Ruy Blas: You vile, rapacious gang of quarrelling thieves!
What! Can you rob the dead? Here by the grave
Of the great empire that was Spain, you sit,
Like greedy vultures, preying on her corpse!
We were the conquerors of the world, but now
Our army dwindled to four thousand men
That never get their arms, their food, their pay,
Is but a mob of brigands, and they live
By pillaging their wretched countrymen.
Our hardy peasantry is crushed beneath
A load of taxes and monopolies,
But not a ducat of the revenue
Is spent on Spain. Bankrupt in wealth and power,
Dead to all sense of honour, justice, right,
She lies, while you, you foul hyenas, snarl
Over her stricken body.
[Turning to the Count of Camporeal, and the Counsellor who was quarrelling with him, he says sternly:
Let me not see
Either of you again at court.
[As they depart, Ruy Blas speaks to the other consternated Counsellors:
Every man
Who will not serve Spain honestly must go.
If there are any who will work with me
In building up our country's power and fame,
On equal laws for rich and poor alike,
I shall be pleased to meet them in this room
In two hours' time.
[All the CounsellorS go out, bowing low to Ruy Blas as they pass by him. When he is alone, the Queen comes from behind the tapestry; her face is radiant with joy.
The Queen: You spoke to them as I would like to speak
Were I a man. Oh, let me take, dear Duke,
This loyal hand, so strong, and so sincere.
Ruy Blas: How did you hear me, madam?
The Queen (showing a secret door): In this place
That Philip made to watch his counsellors.
How often have I seen poor Carlos here,
Listening to the villains robbing him,
And ruining the state!
Ruy Blas: What did he say?