CATILINA.
Stød til? I vover ej? O, venner, venner, –
jeg skulde agte jer, ifald I bored
det åbne bryst igennem, som I truer.
Er ej en gnist af mod da i jer længer?
CATILINE.
Thrust! Thrust! You dare not? Oh, my friends, my friends,--
I should respect you, if you plunged your daggers
In this uncovered bosom, as you threaten.
Is there no spark of courage in your souls?
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