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
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
Of the still evening harbinger of death
Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale
Thunders through Paris
Cry without
Down with the tyrant!
Enter
LECOINTRE.
LECOINTRE.
So may eternal justice blast the foes
Of France! so perish all the tyrant brood,
As Robespierre has perish'd! Citizens,
Caesar is taken.