Hect. Worse for yourself; not for the general state,
And all our common safety, which depends
On freed Antenor's wisdom.
Troil. You would say,
That I'm the man marked out to be unhappy,
And made the public sacrifice for Troy.
Hect. I would say so indeed; for, can you find
A fate more glorious than to be that victim?
If parting from a mistress can procure
A nation's happiness, show me that prince
Who dares to trust his future fame so far,
To stand the shock of annals, blotted thus,—
318 He sold his country for a woman's love!
Troil. O, she's my life, my being, and my soul!
Hect. Suppose she were,—which yet I will not grant,—
You ought to give her up.
Troil. For whom?
Hect. The public.
Troil. And what are they, that I should give up her,
To make them happy? Let me tell you, brother,
The public is the lees of vulgar slaves;
Slaves, with the minds of slaves; so born, so bred.
Yet such as these, united in a herd,
Are called, the public! Millions of such cyphers
Make up the public sum. An eagle's life
Is worth a world of crows. Are princes made
For such as these; who, were one soul extracted
From all their beings, could not raise a man?—
Hect. And what are we, but for such men as these?
'Tis adoration, some say, makes a god:
And who should pay it, where would be their altars,
Were no inferior creatures here on earth?
Even those, who serve, have their expectancies,
Degrees of happiness, which they must share,
Or they'll refuse to serve us.
Troil. Let them have it;
Let them eat, drink, and sleep; the only use
They have of life.