Mon. It matters not. We have deeper things to speak of.—
Know'st thou that we have traitors in our councils?
Pro. I know some voice in secret must have warn'd
De Couci; or his scatter'd bands had ne'er
So soon been marshall'd, and in close array
Led hence as from the field. Hast thou heard aught
That may develope this?
Mon. The guards we set
To watch the city-gates have seized, this morn,
One whose quick fearful glance, and hurried step
Betray'd his guilty purpose. Mark! he bore
(Amidst the tumult deeming that his flight
Might all unnoticed pass) these scrolls to him,
The fugitive Provençal. Read and judge!
Pro. Where is this messenger?
Mon. Where should he be?—
They slew him in their wrath.
Pro.Unwisely done!
Give me the scrolls. [He reads
Now, if there be such things
As may to death add sharpness, yet delay
The pang which gives release; if there be power
In execration, to call down the fires
Of yon avenging heaven, whose rapid shafts
But for such guilt were aimless; be they heap'd
Upon the traitor's head!—Scorn make his name
Her mark for ever!
Mon. In our passionate blindness,
