Max. (To Miramon, who has spoken to him) There ’s only one left to oppose it—Charles.
Mir. My lord, you ’d set a scholar’s word against
A general’s in matters of the field?
The count’s opinion, born within a closet,
Would die in open air but for your nursing.
Max. Come, Count, defend your cause.
Char. My cause, my lord?
Max. You are but one against the government.
Canst talk above so big a head? If not,
I fear we ’ll pass this law of blood. Come, come!
Be eloquent! My heart would have you win!
Char. (Very pale and hesitating)
Your majesty—I beg—
Max. Goes it so deep
To your good heart?
Mir. My lord—
Max. Forgive me, Charles,
For pressing you so much. We ’ll rest to-night.
To-morrow there ’ll be time.
Char. (Hastily) No! Not to-morrow!
Sign the decree! Sign it to-night!