Swet. Yield honour'd Lady, and expect our mercy, [Exit Decius.
We love thy nobleness.
Bond. I thank ye, ye say well;
But mercy and love are sins in Rome and hell.
Swet. Ye cannot scape our strength; ye must yield, Lady,
Ye must adore and fear the power of Rome.
[B]ond. If Rome be earthly, why should any knee
With bending adoration worship her?
She's vitious; and your partial selves confess,
Aspires the height of all impiety:
Therefore 'tis fitter I should reverence
The thatched houses where the Britains dwell
In careless mirth, where the blest houshold gods
See nought but chast and simple purity.
'Tis not high power that makes a place divine,
Nor that the men from gods derive their line.
But sacred thoughts in holy bosoms stor'd,
Make people noble, and the place ador'd.
Swet. Beat the wall deeper.
Bond. Beat it to the center,
We will not sink one thought.
Swet. I'll make ye.
Bond. No.
2. Dau. O mother, these are fearful hours: speak gently.
Enter Petillius.