A Card. Kneel, impious Man, ’tis the Lord Pope.
Pet. Hale him out, German Dog, Blasphemer,
He hath insulted the Holy Father.
Amb. (Draws.) Come on ye cowardly Monks, I scorn ye all,
Were he a king I’d bow my knee to him,
An Emperor, an’ I might buss his hand,
But only Pope, why popes have bribed me vain
To slay your betters.
Hild. Silence: am I Pope indeed, why blame this man,
When ye, obedient, insult me with your clamors.