 | Durazzo |  |
SCENE II.
The Street.Enter Two Citizens.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Here are sharp doings, neighbour. The Moors are
coming to attack us; and every honest tradesman, who
works like a slave, is expected to fight like a devil.
SECOND CITIZEN.
For my part, though I have no objection to fighting,
when I'm in the humour, I don't like those sudden
demands upon my valour.
FIRST CITIZEN.
What do you intend?
SECOND CITIZEN.
Truly, to take care of myself, as a good subject and
a pious Christian ought. But where is Durazzo in this
season of danger?
FIRST CITIZEN.
A heavy suspicion hangs over him, since the spies
were seized and the Moor's dispatches to Lord Garcia
discovered. Ha! look, if here be not the rest of our
neighbours.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Well, what is the latest news?
THIRD CITIZEN.
The enemy are expected to-morrow, and a notice is
posted up in the public square, requesting that no
person, gentle or simple, will be dastardly enough to
leave the city in its distress.
SECOND CITIZEN.
No, no; we shall leave it before the distress comes on,
and so fulfil the proclamation.—But yonder is the General
himself.
THIRD CITIZEN.
He has been calling at every house, and making
harangues in every crowd, to prove what a fine thing
it is to get run through the stomach for a patriot.
SECOND CITIZEN.
My stomach has no appetite for cold steel:—so he
may prove what he likes; but he shall never prove me
a fool: so here goes for warmer food.
[Going.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Nay, let us not desert him before his face; for now
that he is found to be an innocent man, and a brave
man, he is entitled to some attention.—Let us hear him
run away like gentlemen.
Enter Alonzo.
ALONZO.
How now, friends; whither haste you?
SECOND CITIZEN.
From the city,
Whose gates are threaten'd by th'invading Moor.
ALONZO.
And haste you from the city threaten'd thus?
SECOND CITIZEN.
We dare not stay.
ALONZO.
Were you not born here?
SECOND CITIZEN.
Truly,
Grenada gave us birth.
ALONZO.
It took some time
To train you up to the full state of manhood;
And all that time you pass'd here?
SECOND CITIZEN.
You have guess'd
Aright.
ALONZO.
Your trades you learned and practised here?
We did.
ALONZO.
And now, on the first show of danger,
Before a sword is drawn, or a spear broken—
Nay, even before an enemy appears—
The place that gave you birth, that bred you up
To man's condition, taught you trades to rise by,
Was mother, nurse, instructor, patron to you,
Is shunn'd like an infected house, because
You hold the noble attribute of life
Worth all the virtues in the calendar.
FIRST CITIZEN.
We know the city long, and love it well,
But cannot bring it help.
ALONZO.
Not with your backs to 't.—
I thought the sturdy tough plebeian heart
Made, like the oak, for storms; it used to be.
Your bodies you should consecrate to death,
Rather than shame them thus. What can you hope
From flight? to starve—to be pursued—be trodden
In some dark ditch, like frogs, or wheezing reptiles,
Where you had cough'd and croak'd the night before
From cold and terror. Is it thus you bring
Of fear, not anger? Hang your heads for shame,
And crawl into some kennel, which the dogs
Have left, to bark at the rude noise of war:
The holes they shun will serve to shelter you.
SECOND CITIZEN.
What could our numbers do?
ALONZO.
What could the rest,
If all, like you, were bent to save themselves?
FIRST CITIZEN.
We had no leader.
ALONZO.
Had you not the cause
Or an endanger'd country? How! no leader!
What leader had you when you ran away?
Oh! you can run by instinct; but, to stand
When danger threatens, is an art you know not.
Yet, come! reform this error, and repair
Straight to the citadel; there call for arms,
And, with the noblest of your countrymen,
Aspire to use 'em nobly.
FIRST CITIZEN.
What say you?
I care not if I go.
THIRD CITIZEN.
Nor I.
ALL.
Nor we.
ALONZO.
Those words become your gallant hearts. Now, now
You talk like Spaniards, and the Moor hath lost
His spell upon you. Come! and, as we go,
Invite your friends, your children, all who know
And love you, to partake this great exploit.
If we survive and conquer, 'twill be fame;
If we perform and die, 'twill still be fame;
And fame ennobled by the sacrifice
Great natures know to make, when great demands
Inspire the choice of dying. Follow me:
Bring with you blows; strike, as the trumpet sounds,
Through all the field. The Moor will meet you fiercely;
'Tis his impetuous policy, and instinct:
But, when your desperation looks at him,
He'll stand aghast; his noisy troops will pause
Of panic, like some thundering cataract
Bound up in frost, as silent as the power
That smote it in the air. Now for Grenada.
[Exeunt.
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