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46
PIPPA PASSES.

More than one man spoils everything. March straight—
Only, no clumsy knife to fumble for.
Take the great gate, and walk (not saunter) on
Thro’ guards and guards——I have rehearsed it all
Inside the turret here a hundred times.
Don’t ask the way of whom you meet, observe!
But where they cluster thickliest is the door
Of doors; they ’ll let you pass—they ’ll never blab
Each to the other, he knows not the favorite,
Whence he is bound and what ’s his business now.
Walk in—straight up to him; you have no knife:
Be prompt, how should he scream? Then, out with you!
Italy, Italy, my Italy!
You ’re free, you ’re free! Oh mother, I could dream
They got about me—Andrea from his exile,
Pier from his dungeon, Gaultier from his grave!
Mother. Well, you shall go. Yet seems this patriotism
The easiest virtue for a selfish man
To acquire: he loves himself—and next, the world—
If he must love beyond,—but naught between:
As a short-sighted man sees naught midway
His body and the sun above. But you
Are my adored Luigi, ever obedient
To my least wish, and running o’er with love:
I could not call you cruel or unkind.
Once more, your ground for killing him!—then go!
Luigi. Now do you try me, or make sport of me?
How first the Austrians got these provinces…
(If that is all, I ’ll satisfy you soon)