Naaman monologue (Act 1) — The House of Rimmon: A Drama in Four Acts

My King, there is no curse as terrible As that which lights a bosom-fire for him Who gives away his honour, to prolong A craven life whose every breath is shame! If I betray the men who follow me, The city that has put her trust in me, The country to whose service I am bound, What king can shield me from my own deep scorn, What god release me from that self-made hell? The tender mercies of Assyria I know; and they are cruel as creeping tigers. Give up Damascus, and her streets will run Rivers of innocent blood; the city's heart, That mighty, labouring heart, wounded and crushed Beneath the brutal hooves of the wild Bull, Will cry against her captain, sitting safe Among the nobles, in some pleasant place. I shall be safe,--safe from the threatened wrath Of unknown gods, but damned forever by The men I know,--that is the curse I fear.