CAMILLE. What's the trouble?
DANTON. I am sick of humanity. I vomit men.
HÉRAULT. You are not so sick of women, it seems?
DANTON. The women at least are frank enough to be merely themselves and nothing more. They are what we all are: animals. They seek pleasure directly, and never lie to themselves and cover up their instincts with the cloak of reason. I hate the hypocrisy of the intelligence, the sanguinary idiocy of these idealists, these dictators of impotence, who call the natural needs corruption, and pretend to deny nature, in order to flatter their own monstrous egotism and their mad desire for destruction. Oh, if I could only be a brute, an honest out-and-out brute, with the frank desire to love others so long as they allow me a place in the sun!
CAMILLE. Yes, we fairly reek with hypocrisy.
DANTON. The most odious of hypocrisies: the hypocrisy of the dagger. The virtuous guillotine!
PHILIPPEAUX. We have destroyed Capet, only in order that Talien, Fouchet, and Collot d'Herbois might repeat their persecutions and massacres as at Bordeaux and Lyon!
CAMILLE. These maniacs have established a new religion—an obligatory and lay religion, giving the proconsuls a free hand to hang, slash, and burn—all in the name of virtue.
DANTON. There is no danger in any state as great as that of the men with principles. They don't try to do good, but to be in the right; no suffering touches them. Their only morality, their only political ideal, is to impose their ideas on others.
HÉRAULT [reciting ironically]: