Th’ usurper lives and reigns. I am no king
Until I cast him thence.
Zam. Shall not thy voice
Be as a trumpet to th’ awak’ning land?
Will not the bright swords flash like sun-bursts forth,
When the brave hear their chief?
Gon. Peace, Zamor! peace!
Child of the desert, what hast thou to do
With the calm hour of counsel?
Monarch, pause: