Theogenes monologue (Act 4) — Numantia

If love paternal hath no longer sway To check the fearful deed which I intend; Think, O my sons, if I can now give way, When thoughts of honour with my purpose blend! O poignant is the grief, the sore dismay, We feel when Life must have a sudden end; But mine is more, since I by Fate's decree Your cruel executioner must be! Ye shall not live, O children of my soul, To be the Romans' slaves, nor shall their power, However much it rage beyond control, Above our lives and yours in triumph tower. The shortest road which leadeth to the goal Of our dear Liberty in this sad hour, Which Heaven offers us with piteous breath, Conducts us only to the arms of Death. Nor thou, dear consort, sweetest of thy race, Shalt suffer peril from the Roman bands; Nor shall they soil thy modesty and grace With eyes lascivious, or with ruthless hands! My sword shall snatch thee from this foul disgrace, Their schemes shall baffled be by my commands, And this shall be the guerdon of their lust, To triumph o'er Numantia in the dust! Thou, dear, belovèd consort, it was I Who first advised that we, with one accord, Should rather perish than as cravens lie Beneath the terror of the Roman sword; I will not therefore be the last to die, Nor shall my children here.