Still vex your councils, shake your public safety,
And make the robes of government you wear
Hateful to you, as these base chains to me.

_Duke._ Pardon, or death?

_Pier._ Death! honourable death!

_Ren._ Death's the best thing we ask, or you can give;
No shameful bonds, but honourable death.

_Duke._ Break up the council. Captain, guard your prisoners.
Jaffier, you're free, but these must wait for judgment.

[_exeunt all the Senators._

_Pier._ Come, where's my dungeon? Lead me to my straw:
It will not be the first time I've lodg'd hard
To do the senate service.

_Jaf._ Hold, one moment.

_Pier._ Who's he disputes the judgment of the senate?
Presumptuous rebel--on-- [_strikes Jaffier._

_Jaf._ By heav'n, you stir not!
I must be heard; I must have leave to speak.
Thou hast disgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow:
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice?
But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me,
For I am fallen beneath the basest injuries:
Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,
With pity and with charity behold me:
But, as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,
Listen with mildness to my supplications.

_Pier._ What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat,
That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely? Hence! I know thee not:
Leave, hypocrite.

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