They are all devils, even thy holy Princess.
Hild. Peter!
Pet. Yea, Gregory, I will say it to thy face.
’Tis not the Pope she leans on, ’tis the man.
I tell thee Hildebrand, Beatrice loveth thee,
And thou art Pope. O Woman, Woman, Woman!
Thou Satan’s agent for to damn this world!
Hild. Ah, Peter, thou much mistakest Beatrice!
If ever a daughter of the Mother of God