_Mont_. Cheaply you sin, and punish crimes with ease,
Not as the offended, but the offenders please;
First injure heaven, and, when its wrath is due,
Yourselves prescribe it how to punish you.
_Odm_. What numbers of these holy men must come?
_Piz_. You shall not want, each village shall have some;
Who, though the royal dignity they own,
Are equal to it, and depend on none.
_Guy_. Depend on none! you treat them sure in state,
For 'tis their plenty does their pride create.
_Mont_. Those ghostly kings would parcel out my power,
And all the fatness of my land devour.
That monarch sits not safely on his throne
Who bears, within, a power that shocks his own.
They teach obedience to imperial sway,
But think it sin if they themselves obey.
_Vasq_. It seems, then, our religion you accuse,
And peaceful homage to our king refuse.
_Mont_. Your Gods I slight not, but will keep my own;
My crown is absolute, and holds of none.
I cannot in a base subjection live,
Nor suffer you to take, though I would give.
_Cort_. Is this your answer, sir?
_Mont_.--This, as a prince,
Bound to my people's and my crown's defence,
I must return; but, as a man, by you
Redeemed from death, all gratitude is due.
_Cort_. It was an act my honour bound me to:
But what I did, were I again to do,
I could not do it on my honour's score,
For love would now oblige me to do more.
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