Hud. I know
Whence starts this softness. Mercy has no fane
Where you leave offering.
Cor. I know you too!
By holy Heaven, your head was never bared
In Justice' temple! You now seek my fall,
Because I've turned at last to check the hand
That rifles Goldusan. Is 't not enough
That I've unjewelled all her treasured hills
To alien avarice—that her forests bleed
The priceless sap of all primeval Springs
Into your golden stream? But I must lay
My people under bond,—sell them as slaves
To buy your stolen railways!
Hud. Stolen, sir?
I've paid——
Cor. I know what you have paid! You've sent
Your henchmen creeping in the night, to buy
At beggar's price our toil-built roads, and where
You could not buy, you bribed and thieved, till all
Was yours!
Hud. What of my toil, that built the lines
Through half your provinces?
Cor. You paid yourself!
Took from my governors, half gulls, half thieves
Of your own breed, a hundred times the worth
Of every graded foot, in lands and mines
And water-power that holds the prisoned light
Of robbed futurity! Now we must buy
Once more those tracks, long over-bought,—pay you
A value centuple for every mile,—
Pay you in bonds—bonds in hell's verity—
Whose interest will outrun each reckoned year
The summed returns from our fool's purchase! No!
That is my word while I am Goldusan!
Hud. You wake too late. I'll tell you so, my lord,
Since this imprudent burst thrusts courtesy
From court. Your ministers have given assent——
Cor. Have given! You'll over-steal enough
To quit their boldest price!
Hud. I'll not defend
Your chosen servants, sir.
Cor. My servants! Oh,
What State is free from scuttling greed that bores
For treasure through the stanchest hold?