Card. Brunelli. Your Holiness!
Hild. (Rising suddenly and waving his hand imperiously.)
Back! back! This ground be holy!
Brunelli. We be come, my Lord,—
Hild. Back! back! or fear my curse. Sully not
These silent, dreamless ears with impious words
Of earth’s ambitions, Church’s greed and curse.
Desecrate not this peace with life’s mad riot.
’Tis dedicate to memories alone