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Our lives were precious to him; must he die?

The nobles are too strong.

'Tis for your sake they are his enemies. He might have shared their power, and kept ye slaves.

We have been much oppress'd; until he came, No one could sit in quiet at his door. Money and blood were the perpetual cry Of our small tyrants.

So will it be again, If your protector perish.

He shall not die!

The nobles will not listen to your prayers.

We will try threats.

Threats are as vain as prayers—ye must try deeds.

What can we do? We are unarm'd and weak!

But strong in your good cause. Oh, ye are strong, If ye would know your strength!

When he was free, we could defy the world.