_Ren._ During this execution, Durand, you Must in the midst keep your battalia fast: And, Theodore, be sure to plant the cannon That may command the streets; This done, we'll give the general alarm, Apply petards, and force the ars'nal gates; Then fire the city round in several places, Or with our cannon, if it dare resist, Batter to ruin. But, above all, I charge you, Shed blood enough; spare neither sex nor age, Name nor condition: if there lives a senator After to-morrow, though the dullest rogue That e'er said nothing, we have lost our ends. If possible, let's kill the very name Of senator, and bury it in blood.
_Jaf._ _[Aside to R.]_ Merciless, horrid slave! Ay, blood enough! Shed blood enough, old Renault! how thou charm'st me!
_Ren._ But one thing more, and then farewell, till fate Join us again, or sep'rate us forever: But let us all remember, We wear no common cause upon our swords: Let each man think, that on his single virtue, Depends the good and fame of all the rest; Eternal honour, or perpetual infamy. You droop, sir. _[To Jaffier._
_Jaf._ (L. C.) No: with most profound attention I've heard it all, and wonder at thy virtue.
_Ren._ Let's consider, That we destroy oppression--avarice; A people nursed up equally with vices And loathsome lusts, which nature most abhors, And such as, without shame, she cannot suffer.
_Jaf._ (L.) _[Aside,]_ Oh, Belvidera! take me to thy arms, Ard show me where's my peace, for I have lost it.
_Ren._ (L. C.) Without the least remorse, then, let's resolve With fire and sword t'exterminate these tyrants, Under whose weight this wretched country labours.
_Pierre._ (R.) And may those Powers above, that are propitious To gallant minds, record this cause, and bless it!
_Ren._ (L.) Thus happy, thus secure of all we wish for, Should there, my friends, be found among us one False to this glorious enterprise, what fate, What vengeance, were enough for such a villain!
_Elliot._ (R. C.) Death here, without repentance--hell hereafter!
_Ren._ (C.) Let that be my lot, if, as here I stand, Listed by fate among her darling sons, Tho' I had one only brother, dear by all The strictest ties of nature, Joined in this cause, and had but ground to fear He meant foul play; may this right hand drop from me, If I'd not hazard all my future peace, And stab him to the heart before you! Who, Who would do less! Would'st thou not, Pierre, the same?