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GONSALVI.

These are her chiefs—in their consent she yields.

CASTRUCCIO

You see that they are silent. By my voice

Does Lucca speak: she would be glad of peace,
An equal, sure, and honourable peace—
To terms like these she has but one reply—defiance.

GONSALVI.

Florence will teach you better in the field!

CASTRUCCIO.

This to your conqueror: not three weeks have pass'd

Since, in the field, we met. I think you found
More service from your spurs than from your swords.

GONSALVI.

'Twas an unlucky chance of war.

CASTRUCCIO.

Not so, my lord; there was a higher cause—

The right against the wrong. Your army came,
A mercenary and a selfish band,
Some urged by false ambition, some for spoil.
No noble motive noble impulse gave:
Ye were aggressors, and ye fought like such.
I tell you, count, with not a third your numbers
I chased your flying hosts within your gates.

GONSALVI.

I came not for a boast but for an answer—

War or submission.

CASTRUCCIO.

War or submission! sad such choice and stern:

Vast is the suffering—great the wrong of war!