Freron. They took from me my ticket of admission—
Expell'd me from their sittings.—Now, forsooth, 90
Humbled and trembling re-insert my name.
But Freron enters not the Club again
'Till it be purged of guilt:—'till, purified
Of tyrants and of traitors, honest men
May breathe the air in safety. 95
[Shouts from without.
Barrere. What means this uproar! if the tyrant band
Should gain the people once again to rise—
We are as dead!
Tallien. And wherefore fear we death?
Did Brutus fear it? or the Grecian friends
Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword, 100
And died triumphant? Caesar should fear death,
Brutus must scorn the bugbear.
(Shouts from without—Live the Convention!—Down with the Tyrants!)
Tallien. Hark! again
The sounds of honest Freedom!
Enter Deputies from the Sections.
Citizen. Citizens! representatives of France!
Hold on your steady course. The men of Paris 105
Espouse your cause. The men of Paris swear
They will defend the delegates of Freedom.
Tallien. Hear ye this, Colleagues? hear ye this, my brethren?
And does no thrill of joy pervade your breasts?
My bosom bounds to rapture. I have seen 110
The sons of France shake off the tyrant yoke;
I have, as much as lies in mine own arm,
Hurl'd down the usurper.—Come death when it will,
I have lived long enough. [Shouts without.
Barrere. Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom 115
Of the still evening—harbinger of death,
Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale
Thunders through Paris— [Cry without—Down with the Tyrant!