I bore it thus to empire. Here, ’tis true,
No voice will speak men’s thoughts; but far beyond
The limits of your sway, in other scenes,
Where that still, speechless terror hath not reach’d,
Which is your sceptre’s attribute, my deeds
And your reward will live in chronicles
For ever to endure. Yet, yet, respect
Your annals, and the future! Ye will need
A warrior soon, and who will then be yours?
Forget not, though your captive now I stand,