Jul. Not, if I purposed or desired to live,
My own dishonour would I e’er proclaim
Amid vindictive and reviling foes.
Muza. Calling us foes, avows he not his guilt?
Condemns he not the action we condemn,
Owning it his, and owning it dishonour?
’Tis well my cares pressed forward, and struck home.
Jul. Why smilest thou? I never saw that smile
But it portended an atrocious deed.
Muza. After our manifold and stern assaults,
With every tower and battlement destroyed,
The walls of Ceuta still were strong enough—
Jul. For what? who boasted now her brave defence,
Or who forbade your entrance, after peace?
Muza. None: for who could? their engines now arose
To throw thy sons into the arms of death.
For this erect they their proud crests again.
Mark him at last turn pale before a Moor.
Jul. Imprudent have they been, their youth shall plead.
Abd. O father, could they not have been detained?
Muza. Son, thou art safe and wert not while they lived.
Abd. I feared them not.