_Jul._ To stop perhaps at any wickedness Appears a merit now, and at the time Prudence or policy it often is Which afterward seems magnanimity. The people had deserted thee, and thronged My standard, had I rais’d it, at the first; But once subsiding, and no voice of mine Calling by name each grievance to each man, They, silent and submissive by degrees, Bore thy hard yoke, and, hadst thou but opprest, Would still have borne it: thou hast now deceived; Thou hast done all a foren foe could do, And more, against them; with ingratitude Not hell itself could arm the foren foe— ’Tis forged at home, and kills not from afar. Amid whate’er vain glories fell upon Thy rainbow span of power, which I dissolve, Boast not how thou conferredst wealth and rank, How thou preservedst me, my family, All my distinctions, all my offices, When Witiza was murder’d, that I stand Count Julian at this hour by special grace. The sword of Julian saved the walls of Ceuta, And not the shadow that attends his name It was no badge, no title, that o’erthrew Soldier, and steed, and engine—don Roderigo, The truly and the falsely great here differ, These by dull wealth or daring fraud advance, Him the Almighty calls amidst his people To sway the wills and passions of mankind. The weak of heart and intellect beheld Thy splendour, and adored thee lord of Spain— I rose—Roderigo lords o’er Spain no more. _Rod._ Now to a traitor’s add a boaster’s name. _Jul._ Shameless and arrogant, dost thou believe I boast for pride or pastime? forced to boast, Truth costs me more than falsehood e’er cost thee. Divested of that purple of the soul, That potency, that palm of wise ambition— Cast headlong by thy madness from that high That only eminence ’twixt earth and heaven, Virtue—which some desert, but none despise— Whether thou art beheld again on earth, Whether a captive or a fugitive; Miner or galley-slave, depends on me: But he alone who made me what I am Can make me greater, or can make me less. _Rod._ Chance, and chance only, threw me in thy power, Give me my sword again and try my strength. _Jul._ I tried it in the front of thousands. _Rod._ Death At least vouchsafe me from a soldier’s hand. _Jul._ I love to hear thee ask it—now my own Would not be bitter; no, nor immature. _Rod._ Defy it, say thou rather. _Jul._ Death itself Shall not be granted thee, unless from God; A dole from his and from no other hand. Thou shalt now hear and own thine infamy— _Rod._ Chains, dungeons, tortures—but I hear no more. _Jul._ Silence, thou wretch, live on—aye, live—abhor’d. Thou shalt have tortures, dungeons, chains, enough— They naturally rise and grow around Monsters like thee, everywhere, and for ever.