The Mayor.
Why, what should be the end of war
But reasonable terms of peace?
To kick at pricks is not my way,
I'm made of common human clay;
When at your breast the lance you feel
It is but reason to give place;—
With but a switch to parry steel,
'Tis just to make a volte-face;
Left of your cause the sole defender,
It is the wisest to surrender.
Brand.
Two things are noticeable here.
First, that you call me strong. Of men
I have the larger part.
The Mayor.
That's clear.
Brand.
Now, possibly: but when shall rise
The great dread day of sacrifice,
Who will have more supporters <g>then</g>?
The Mayor.
Of sacrifice? Why, goodness me,
That's just the day we never see
At least, the sacrifice no worse is
Than drafts upon good people's purses;
The age is too humane to bring
Any more costly offering.
And what's most vexing is, that I
Myself have all along been noted
Of those who the Humane promoted
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