Saving command of yours.

_Count._ Command of mine?

_Com._ You hesitate to give it?

_Count._ 'T is a use,
This, of the war, you know. It is so sweet
To pardon when we conquer; and their hate
Is quickly turned to friendship in the hearts
That throb beneath the steel. Ah, do not seek
To take this noble privilege from those
Who risked their lives for your sake, and to-day
Are generous because valiant yesterday.

_Com._ Let him be generous who fights for himself,
My lord! But these--and it rests upon their honor--
Have fought at our expense, and unto us
Belong the prisoners.

_Count._ You may well think so,
Doubtless, but those who met them front to front,
Who felt their blows, and fought so hard to lay
Their bleeding hands upon them, they will not
So easily believe it.

_Com._ And is this
A joust for pleasure then? And doth not Venice
Conquer to keep? And shall her victory
Be all in vain?