in his stead In his own body and one near of kin, Who made together with him the betrayal. But hitherward stretch out thy hand forthwith, Open mine eyes”;—and open them I did not, And to be rude to him was courtesy. Ah, Genoese! ye men at variance With every virtue, full of every vice! Wherefore are ye not scattered from the world? For with the vilest spirit of Romagna I found of you one such, who for his deeds In soul already in Cocytus bathes, And still above in body seems alive!
Table of Contents
Canto XXXIII
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