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The treaty ready for your signatures, And will receive your homage and your oaths.—[Exit.

Homage and tribute—these are bitter words!

Less bitter than the Castrucani's sway.

To-day must fix his fate. What is his doom?

Death!

Rather say exile.

Yes, and one week sees him again our chief!

He may be kept strict prisoner.

And keep perpetual terror o'er our heads.

His scaffold is our safety.

We dare not raise that scaffold.

Dare not!

The citizens would rise in his defence.

Not with our swords to teach them what they are.

Why risk a tumult that we well may spare, While Lucca has a dagger?