_Opas_. These are they To whom brave Spaniards must refer their wrongs! _Jul._ Muza, that cruel and suspicious chief, Distrusts his friends more than his enemies, Me more than either; fraud he loves and fears, And watches her still footfall day and night. _Opas_. O Julian! such a refuge! such a race! _Jul._ Calamities like mine alone implore. No virtues have redeemed them from their bonds; Wily ferocity, keen idleness, And the close cringes of ill-whispering want, Educate them to plunder and obey: Active to serve him best whom most they fear, They show no mercy to the merciful, And racks alone remind them of the name. _Opas_. O everlasting curse for Spain and thee! _Jul._ Spain should have vindicated then her wrongs In mine, a Spaniard’s and a soldier’s wrongs. _Opas_. Julian, are thine the only wrongs on earth? And shall each Spaniard rather vindicate Thine than his own? is there no Judge of all? Shall mortal hand seize with impunity The sword of vengeance, from the armory Of the Most High? easy to wield, and starred With glory it appears; but all the host Of the archangels, should they strive at once, Would never close again its widening blade _Jul._ He who provokes it hath so much to rue. Where’er he turn, whether to earth or heaven, He finds an enemy, or raises one. _Opas_. I never yet have seen where long success Hath followed him who warred upon his king. _Jul._ Because the virtue that inflicts the stroke Dies with him, and the rank ignoble heads Of plundering faction soon unite again, And, prince-protected, share the spoil, at rest. ACT I. SCENE 3. _Guard announces a Herald_. OPAS _departs_. _Guard_. A messager of peace is at the gate, My lord, safe access, private audience, And free return, he claims. _Jul._ Conduct him in. [_To Roderigo_, _who enters as Herald_. A messager of peace! audacious man! In what attire appearest thou? a herald’s? Under no garb can such a wretch be safe. _Rod._ Thy violence and fancied wrongs I know, And what thy sacrilegious hands would do, O traitor and apostate!