OPAS. Rather say, perhaps
My place of refuge will receive me soon.
Could I extend it even to thy crimes,
It should be open; but the wrath of heaven
Turns them against thee, and subverts thy sway:
It leaves thee not, what wickedness and woe
Oft in their drear communion taste together,
Hope and repentance.

ROD. But it leaves me arms,
Vigour of soul and body, and a race
Subject by law, and dutiful by choice,
Whose hand is never to be holden fast
Within the closing cleft of gnarled creeds;
No easy prey for these vile mitred Moors.
I, who received thy homage, may retort
Thy threats, vain prelate, and abase thy pride.

OPAS. Low must be those whom mortal can sink lower,
Nor high are they whom human power may raise.

ROD. Judge now: for, hear the signal.

OPAS. And derides
The buoyant heart the dubious gulfs of war?
Trumpets may sound, and not to victory.

ROD. The traitor and his daughter feel my power.

OPAS. Just God! avert it!