In reason good, which justified my deed.
With women the heart argues, not the mind.
But, for thy children's death, I stand assoil'd—
I saved them, meant them honor; but thy friends
Rose, and with fire and sword assailed my house
By night; in that blind tumult they were slain.
To chance impute their deaths, then, not to me.
MEROPE.
Such chance as kill'd the father, kill'd the sons.
POLYPHONTES.
One son at least I spared, for still he lives.
MEROPE.
Tyrants think him they murder not they spare.
POLYPHONTES.
Not much a tyrant thy free speech displays me.
MEROPE.
Thy shame secures my freedom, not thy will.
POLYPHONTES.
Shame rarely checks the genuine tyrant's will.
MEROPE.
One merit, then, thou hast; exult in that.
POLYPHONTES.
Thou standest out, I see, repellest peace.
MEROPE.
Thy sword repell'd it long ago, not I.
