Duty, allegeance, and all respects of what you are, forsake me:
Do you stare on? is this a Theater?
Or shall these kill themselves, like to mad fencers,
To make you sport? keep them asunder, or
By Heaven I'le charge on all.
Grand. Keep the peace,
I am for you, my Lord, and if you'l have me,
I'le act the Constables part.
Aub. Live I to see this?
Will you do that your enemies dare not wish,
And cherish in your selves those furies, which
Hell would cast out? Do, I am ready; kill me,
And these, that would fall willing sacrifices
To any power that would restore your reason,
And make you men again, which now you are not.
Rol. These are your bucklers boy.
Otto. My hinderances;
And were I not confirm'd, my justice in
The taking of thy life, could not weigh down
The wrong, in shedding the least drop of bloud
Of these whose goodness only now protects thee,
Thou should'st feel I in act would only prove my self
What thou in words do'st labour to appear.
Rol. Hear this, and talk again! I'le break through all,
But I will reach thy heart.
Otto. 'Tis better guarded.
Enter Sophia.
Soph. Make way, or I will force it, who are those?
My Sons? my shames; turn all your swords on me,
And make this wretched body but one wound,
So this unnatural quarrel find a grave
In the unhappy womb that brought you forth:
Dare you remember that you had a Mother,
Or look on these gray hairs, made so with tears,
For both your goods, and not with age; and yet
Stand doubtful to obey her? from me you had
Life, Nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons;
And dare you raise them against her, to whom
You owe the means of being what you are?
Otto. All peace is meant to you.