_Rub._ Shall he be shot, my lord?

_Cor._ Shot? No. But kept close prisoned.

_Rub._ That is mercy You have denied the blood of Goldusan.

Why grant it to a.s.saria?

_Var._ In him swells A strength was never in LeVal. I urge His instant death.

_Cor._ No, friends. He is a son Of our great neighbor, and his death would wound The courtesy of nations that is kept By lenience unabraded.

_Var._ Breath so bold Will from a prison fan the treachery Whose flame would die without it.

_Her._ Father, speak!

_Cor._ We'll hear our friend, a.s.saria's majesty, If he have word for us.

_Hud._ I pray your highness To let no ghostly and unfounded fear Of my a.s.saria----

_Cor._ Fear, my lord?

_Hud._ I mean No more than ask you to be just, nor let My presence here enforce your chivalry To do your country wrong. Think of your people, Not the approval of a gazing land Whose distant nod is given in ignorance Of your stern cause.

_Her._ Here's not my father! So The clock runs backward, and time ends.

_Meg._ [_To Cordiaz_] Your highness, My voice is not so loud as others here, But could I send it far as sound may go, It should take mercy's part in this debate.

_Var._ You need no trump, my lord. A limpet's whistle Would tell us where you stand.

_Meg._ I stand with Cordiaz, His majesty of Goldusan!

_Cor._ This matter Is not for open market. Come, my friends, Let us go in. Please you to walk before.

[_Rubirez, Ziralay, Vardas, and Megario enter the house, upper left.

Their majesties linger at entrance. Guildamour retreats on path, upper right. Officers go off, lower left. Hernda and Senora Ziralay wait unnoticed, right_]

_Cor._ Is 't kindly done, my lord, to pose your station In public against mine?

_Hud._ My neutral words You've packed with import all your own. I strive To bend not right or left, but keep my way As even as Justice.

_Her._ [_To Senora_] Justice! There's a stone That was my father.

_Cor._ Yet, my lord, this prince Is of your house.

_Hud._ Is it for Cordiaz To teach me mercy?

_Cor._ By my soul!

_Hud._ I know Whence starts this softness. Mercy has no fane Where you leave offering.

_Cor._ I know you too!

By holy Heaven, your head was never bared In Justice' temple! You now seek my fall, Because I've turned at last to check the hand That rifles Goldusan. Is 't not enough That I've unjewelled all her treasured hills To alien avarice--that her forests bleed The priceless sap of all primeval Springs Into your golden stream? But I must lay My people under bond,--sell them as slaves To buy your stolen railways!

_Hud._ Stolen, sir?

I've paid----

_Cor._ I know what you have paid! You've sent Your henchmen creeping in the night, to buy At beggar's price our toil-built roads, and where You could not buy, you bribed and thieved, till all Was yours!

_Hud._ What of _my_ toil, that built the lines Through half your provinces?

_Cor._ You paid yourself!

Took from my governors, half gulls, half thieves Of your own breed, a hundred times the worth Of every graded foot, in lands and mines And water-power that holds the prisoned light Of robbed futurity! Now we must buy Once more those tracks, long over-bought,--pay you A value centuple for every mile,-- Pay you in bonds--bonds in h.e.l.l's verity-- Whose interest will outrun each reckoned year The summed returns from our fool's purchase! No!

That is my word while I am Goldusan!

_Hud._ You wake too late. I'll tell you so, my lord, Since this imprudent burst thrusts courtesy From court. Your ministers have given a.s.sent----

_Cor._ Have _given_! You'll over-steal enough To quit their boldest price!

_Hud._ I'll not defend Your chosen servants, sir.

_Cor._ _My_ servants! Oh, What State is free from scuttling greed that bores For treasure through the stanchest hold?

_Hud._ This moral chant comes late from you, my lord, Who've fingered heavily in many a pie Spiced in the devil's kitchen.

_Cor._ But to sell My people! Pay you this devouring price For stock that hardy yields the groaning third Of interest on your bonds! What shall we do To pay it? Rob our treasury, and ask Our worn-out slaves to fill it up again?

Not ask, but goad and lash,--for you must have Your own--you honest mortgagees of babes Unborn----

_Hud._ Is all the scarlet on our hands?

What of that mountain province, sold entire To foreign pockets, and the dwellers there Torn up like shrieking roots and cast abroad To fasten where they could?

_Cor._ And where was that But in your h.e.l.l-mouthed mines? You wanted slaves And got them.

_Her._ I shall die, Senora!

_Sen._ Listen!

_Hud._ The tyrant Cordiaz grown pitiful?

Then stones are b.u.t.ter, alabaster is Uncrumpled down. You should have wept before The Pueblo strike, then fewer corpses had Gone out to sea.

_Cor._ Don't name that thing to me!

Don't speak of it! I will not bear that curse!

_Hud._ Mine aged convert, lies it in your will, Or juster Heaven's?

_Cor._ 'Twas your property My troops defended--and Rubirez lied.

Swore that the men foamed mad as tusked beasts, And must be trashed to place,--men who had asked No more than bread when you shut up your doors----

_Hud._ Not I, my friend.