[Julian greatly moved, goes towards him.
Rod. Upon my knee, my conqueror, I implore—
Upon the earth, before thy feet [starts back]—hard heart!
Jul. Audacious! hast thou never heard that prayer
And scorn’d it? ’tis the last thou shouldst repeat.
Upon the earth! upon her knees! O God!
Rod. Resemble not a wretch so lost as I:
Be better; O! be happier; and pronounce it.
Jul. I swerve not from my purpose: thou art mine,
Conquered; and I have sworne to dedicate
—Like a torne banner on my chapel’s roof—
Thee to that power from whom thou hast rebelled.
Expiate thy crimes by prayer, by penances—
Rod. Hasten the hour of trial, speak of peace.
[Julian looks sternly on the ground and does not answer.
Pardon me not, then—but with purer lips
Implore of God, who would hear thee, to pardon.
Jul. Hope it I may—pronounce it—O Roderigo!
Ask it of him who can; I too will ask,
And, in my own transgressions, pray for thine.
Rod. One name I dare not—