Ram. If thou still lovest, as I know thou dost,
Thy king—
Osma. I love him; for he owes me much,
Brave soul! and cannot, though he would, repay.
Service and faith, pure faith and service hard,
Throughout his reign, if these things be desert,
These have I borne toward him, and still bear.
Ram. Come, from thy solitary eiry come,
And share the prey, so plenteous and profuse,
Which a less valorous brood will else consume.
Much fruit is shaken down in civil storms:
And shall not orderly and loyal hands
Gather it up? (Loud shouts.) Again! and still refuse?
How different are those citizens without
From thee! from thy serenity! thy arch,
Thy firmament, of intrepidity!
For their new lord, whom they have never served,
Afraid were they to shout, and only struck
The pavement with their ferrules and their feet:
Now they are certain of the great event
Voices and hands they raise, and all contend
Who shall be bravest in applauding most.
Knowest thou these?
Osma. Their voices I know well—
And can they shout for him they would have slain?
A prince untried they welcome; soon their doubts
Are blown afar.
Ram. Yes, brighter scenes arise.
The disunited he alone unites,
The weak with hope he strengthens, and the strong
With justice.
Osma. Wait: praise him when time hath given
A soundness and consistency to praise:
He shares it amply who bestows it right.
Ram. Doubtest thou?
Osma. Be it so: let us away;
New courtiers come—
Ram. And why not join the new?
Let us attend him, and congratulate;
Come on: they enter.
Osma. This is now my post
No longer: I could face them in the field,
I cannot here.