Louis—Nemours!... He was a conspirator. But his death.... His crime was proved. But under his scaffold his children's tears.... Thrice against his lord he had taken up arms. His life-blood spattered them. Yet his death was but just.
Francis—Cruel, cruel King!
Louis—Just, but severe; I confess it: I punished ... but no, I have committed crimes. In mid-air the fatal knot has strangled my victims; in murderous pits they have been stabbed with steel; the waters have put an end to them, the earth has acted as their jailer. Prisoners buried beneath these towers groan forgotten in their depths.
Francis—Oh! since there are wrongs which you can still repair, come!
Louis—Where to?
Francis—Let us set free those prisoners.
Louis—Statecraft forbids.
Francis [kneeling before the King]—Charity orders: come, and save your soul.
Louis—And risk my crown! As a king, I cannot.