Her. A prisoner!
Meg. You can not ask his freedom! That would give
My foes clear argument to pluck me bare,
And set me outlawed on the rebel side
Of this deplored division.
Her. Oh, not free!
And in your power!
Meg. To hold him prisoner,—that
I'd undertake, and make the action good
Even to this bloody council.
Her. You'd dare that?
Meg. My policy is open, and I'd dare
To put it into deed that must commend me
To their unwilling justice. To do more
Would disarray all sense,—be fullest like
The idiot's gesture that disrobes the wretch
Of his last sanity.
Her. Megario....
Meg. What secret is so dear these costly sighs,
Like gentle pickets ever reinforced,
Let it not pass?
Her. A secret? No!
Meg. But yes.
I push me by its fragile guardians,
And hear it beating in its citadel.