ROBESPIERRE. Transparent mask! They wish to clog the wheels of government, Forcing the hand that guides the vast machine To bribe them to their duty.--English patriots! Are not the congregated clouds of war Black all around us? In our very vitals Works not the king-bred poison of rebellion? Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings Of wretches, cold of heart, nor awed by fears Of him, whose power directs th' eternal justice? Terror? or secret-sapping gold? The first. Heavy, but transient as the ills that cause it; And to the virtuous patriot render'd light By the necessities that gave it birth: The other fouls the fount of the Republic, Making it flow polluted to all ages; Inoculates the state with a slow venom, That once imbibed, must be continued ever. Myself incorruptible I ne'er could bribe them-- Therefore they hate me. BARRERE. Are the Sections friendly? ROBESPIERRE. There are who wish my ruin--but I'll make them Blush for the crime in blood! BARRERE. Nay--but I tell thee, Thou art too fond of slaughter--and the right (If right it be) workest by most foul means! ROBESPIERRE. Self-centering Fear! how well thou canst ape Mercy! Too fond of slaughter!--matchless hypocrite! Thought Barrere so, when Brissot, Danton died? Thought Barrere so, when through the streaming streets Of Paris red-eyed Massacre, o'er wearied, Reel'd heavily, intoxicate with blood? And when (O heavens!) in Lyons' death-red square Sick fancy groan'd o'er putrid hills of slain, Didst thou not fiercely laugh, and bless the day? Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors, And, like a blood-hound, crouch'd for murder! Now Aloof thou standest from the tottering pillar, Or, like a frighted child behind its mother, Hidest thy pale face in the skirts of--Mercy! BARRERE. O prodigality of eloquent anger! Why now I see thou'rt weak--thy case is desperate! The cool ferocious Robespierre turn'd scolder! ROBESPIERRE. Who from a bad man's bosom wards the blow, Reserves the whetted dagger for his own. Denounced twice--and twice I sav'd his life! [Exit.] BARRERE. The Sections will support them--there's the point! No! he can never weather out the storm-- Yet he is sudden in revenge--No more! I must away to Tallien. [Exit.] [SCENE changes to the House of Adelaide. ADELAIDE enters, speaking to a Servant.] ADELAIDE. Didst thou present the letter that I gave thee? Did Tallien answer, he would soon return? SERVANT. He is in the Tuilleries--with him, Legendre-- In deep discourse they seem'd: as I approach'd He waved his hand, as bidding me retire: I did not interrupt him. [Returns the letter.] ADELAIDE. Thou didst rightly. [Exit Servant.]