Salm. (Following him) I love you, sire.
Lop. (Eagerly) So do we all! Your majesty, believe us!
Mir. Canst not spare one who have so many true?
Max. Forgive me, friends. This treachery ’s the night
Wherein your hearts of gold beat out like stars!
Lop. My life is yours, my lord!
Max. Thanks, dear Lopez. (Takes his hand)
In friendship lies the joy superlative,
And nearest Heaven. We touch God’s hand whene’er
We clasp a friend’s.
... But now we must take counsel.
Salm. No, sire, we must take action. Pardon me,
But our sole hope of safety lies in flight.
Max. What! Leave the town to sack and ruin? No!
Desert the poor inhabitants, so long our friends?
And all our wounded, sick and dying? Never!
Salm. But if you stay, my lord, you sacrifice
The living with the dying.
Max. Oh, Heaven, Heaven!