Collot d'Herbois. No—villainy shall fall. France could not brook
A monarch's sway—sounds the dictator's name
More soothing to her ear?

Bourdon l'Oise. Rattle her chains
More musically now than when the hand
Of Brissot forged her fetters; or the crew 75
Of Hébert thundered out their blasphemies,
And Danton talk'd of virtue?

Robespierre. Oh, that Brissot
Were here again to thunder in this hall,
That Hébert lived, and Danton's giant form
Scowl'd once again defiance! so my soul 80
Might cope with worthy foes.
People of France,
Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the law
Traitors have perish'd countless; more survive:
The hydra-headed faction lifts anew
Her daring front, and fruitful from her wounds, 85
Cautious from past defects, contrives new wiles
Against the sons of Freedom.

Tallien. Freedom lives!
Oppression falls—for France has felt her chains,
Has burst them too. Who traitor-like stept forth
Amid the hall of Jacobins to save 90
Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretch
D'Eglantine?

[[506]] Robespierre. I did—for I thought them honest.
And Heaven forefend that Vengeance e'er should strike,
Ere justice doom'd the blow.

Barrere. Traitor, thou didst.
Yes, the accomplice of their dark designs, 95
Awhile didst thou defend them, when the storm
Lower'd at safe distance. When the clouds frown'd darker,
Fear'd for yourself and left them to their fate.
Oh, I have mark'd thee long, and through the veil
Seen thy foul projects. Yes, ambitious man, 100
Self-will'd dictator o'er the realm of France,
The vengeance thou hast plann'd for patriots
Falls on thy head. Look how thy brother's deeds
Dishonour thine! He the firm patriot,
Thou the foul parricide of Liberty! 105

Robespierre Junior. Barrere—attempt not meanly to divide
Me from my brother. I partake his guilt,
For I partake his virtue.

Robespierre. Brother, by my soul,
More dear I hold thee to my heart, that thus
With me thou dar'st to tread the dangerous path 110
Of virtue, than that Nature twined her cords
Of kindred round us.

Barrere. Yes, allied in guilt,
Even as in blood ye are. O, thou worst wretch,
Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib'd,
Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd 115
Each patriot representative of France?

Bourdon l'Oise. Was not the younger Caesar too to reign
O'er all our valiant armies in the south,
And still continue there his merchant wiles?