Max. We are decided—to pass this law.
Convinced that ’t is the honest course.
(All surprised and relieved but Ignacio, who starts with horror)
Ig. My God!
Mir. Blest majesty, we thank you!
Lab. You do but set
Your name where Heaven’s seal already shines.
Ig. The seal of Hell! O noblest man that breathes
This corrupt air, take back that word of death
Ere it is stamped in black upon your soul!
Mir. (After a silence) An Aztec, sire, and nephew to Juarez.
Max. You think that is a sin? Among our friends
Are many whose nearest kinsmen nobly served
The lost Republic. Hear us, Ignacio.
This law is subject to a firm condition:
Each officer shall make report to us,
And every captive who deserves not death
Shall have our pardon.
Ig. Then, you ’ll pardon two
Now at Savarro, Trevino and Mendorez,
Both doomed to die at sunrise!
Mir. Ravagers!
Brigands! Ay, murderers!