How often hast thou braved my peaceful court,
Filled it with noisy brawls, and windy boasts;
And with past service, nauseously repeated,
Reproached even me, thy prince?
_Dor._ And well I might, when you forgot reward,
The part of heaven in kings; for punishment
Is hangman's work, and drudgery for devils.--
I must, and will reproach thee with my service,
Tyrant!--It irks me so to call my prince;
But just resentment, and hard usage, coined
The unwilling word; and, grating as it is,
Take it, for 'tis thy due.
_Seb._ How, tyrant?
_Dor._ Tyrant.
_Seb._ Traitor!--that name thou canst not echo back;
That robe of infamy, that circumcision
Ill hid beneath that robe, proclaim thee traitor;
And, if a name
More foul than traitor be, 'tis renegade.
_Dor._ If I'm a traitor, think,--and blush, thou tyrant,--
Whose injuries betrayed me into treason,
Effaced my loyalty, unhinged my faith,
And hurried me, from hopes of heaven, to hell.
All these, and all my yet unfinished crimes,
When I shall rise to plead before the saints,
I charge on thee, to make thy damning sure.
_Seb._ Thy old presumptuous arrogance again,
That bred my first dislike, and then my loathing.--
Once more be warned, and know me for thy king.
_Dor._ Too well I know thee, but for king no more.
This is not Lisbon; nor the circle this,
Where, like a statue, thou hast stood besieged
By sycophants and fools, the growth of courts;
Where thy gulled eyes, in all the gaudy round,
Met nothing but a lie in every face,
And the gross flattery of a gaping crowd,
Envious who first should catch, and first applaud,
The stuff of royal nonsense: When I spoke,
My honest homely words were carped and censured
For want of courtly style; related actions,
Though modestly reported, passed for boasts;
Secure of merit if I asked reward,
Thy hungry minions thought their rights invaded,
And the bread snatched from pimps and parasites.
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