_Eust._ Sworn liegemen to their master, and their monarch, They have perform'd their duty, sir. I trust You, who yourself are king, can scarcely blame Poor fellows for their loyalty. 'Tis plain You do not, sir; for now, your royal nature O'erflows in clemency; and setting by All thought of crushing those beneath your feet, Which, in the heat and giddiness of conquest, The victor sometimes is seen guilty of; Our town finds grace and pity at your hands. Your noble bounty, sir, is pleas'd consider Some certain trifles we have suffer'd; such As a bare twelvemonth's siege--a lack of food; Some foolish grey-beards dead by't; some few heaps Of perish'd soldiers; and, humanely weighing These nothings as misfortunes, spare our people: Simply exacting, that six useless citizens, Mere logs in the community, and prized For nothing but their honesty, come forth, Like malefactors, and be gibbetted! _King._ Villain and slave! for this thy daring taunt, (Howe'er before we might incline to listen), We henceforth shut the ear to supplication. _Eust._ Mighty sir! We march'd not forth to supplicate, but die. Trust me, king, We could not covet aught, in your disposal, Would swell our future name with half the glory As this same sentence, which, we thank you for't, You have bestow'd, unask'd. _King._ Conduct them straight to execution! _La Gloire._ [_Advancing to the left of EUSTACHE._] Father! _Eust._ How now? thou shakest! _La Gloire._ 'Tisn't for myself, then.--For my own part, I am a man: but I cannot look on our relations, and my captain, and on you, father, without feeling a something, that makes a woman of me.--But I---- _Eust._ Briefly, boy; what is't? _La Gloire._ Give me thy hand, father! So--[_Kisses it._]--And now, if I part with it, while a puff of breath remains in my body, I shall lose one of the most sorrowful comforts, that ever poor fellow in jeopardy fixed his heart upon. Were I but well assured poor Madelon would recover the news, I could go off as tough as the stoutest. _Rib._ [_Advances to the right of EUSTACHE._] Farewell, old heart! thy body doth incase The noblest spirit soldier e'er could boast, To face grim death withal. Inform our fellows, At the last moment given, on the scaffold, We will embrace, and---- [_A Muffled Drum beats._ ----Hark! the signal beats. _Eust._ Lead on. [_They march up to the Scaffold._ _Soldier._ [_Without._] You cannot pass. _Julia._ [_Without._] Nay, give me way! _Enter JULIA and O'CARROL._ _Julia._ Stay, stay your hands! desist, or---- _King._ How now! Wherefore this boldness? _Julia._ Great and mighty King! Behold a youth much wrong'd. Men do esteem The Monarch's throne as the pure fount and spring Whence justice flows: and here I cry for it. _King._ What is the suit thus urges?