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    R O M E. A hall in a Palace. ALESSANDRA and CASTIGLIONE

         ALESSANDRA. Thou art sad, Castiglione.
         CASTIGLIONE.                                             Sad! not I.
Oh, Im the happiest, happiest  man in Rome!
A few days more, thou knowest, my Alessandra,
Will make thee mine. Oh, I am very happy!
         ALESSANDRA. Methinks thou hast a singular way of showing
Thy happiness! what ails thee, cousin of mine?
Why didst thou sigh so deeply?
         CASTIGLIONE.                  Did I sigh?
I was not conscious of it. It is a fashion,
A silly a most silly fashion I have
When  I am very happy. Did I sigh? [sighing.]
          ALESSANDRA. Thou didst. Thou art not well. Thou hast indulged
Too much of late, and I am vexed to see it.
Late hours and wine, Castiglione, these
Will ruin thee! thou art already altered
Thy looks are haggard nothing so wears away
The constitution as late hours and wine.
         CASTIGLIONE [musing.] Nothing, fair cousin, nothing not even deep sorrow
Wears it away like evil hours and wine.
I will amend.
          ALESSANDRA. Do it! I would have thee drop
Thy riotous company, too fellows low born
Ill suit the like with old Di Broglios heir
And Alessandras husband.
       CASTIGLIONE.             I will drop them.
       ALESSANDRA. Thou wilt thou must. Attend thou also more
To thy dress and equipage they are over plain
For thy lofty rank and fashion much depends
Upon appearances.
         CASTIGLIONE. Ill see to it.
         ALESSANDRA. Then see to it! pay more attention, sir,
To a becoming carriage much thou wantest
In dignity.
        CASTIGLIONE. Much, much, oh much I want
In  proper dignity.
         ALESSANDRA. [haughtily.] Thou mockest me, sir!
        CASTIGLIONE. [abstractedly.] Sweet, gentle Lalage!
        ALESSANDRA.                                                               Heard I aright?
I speak to him he speaks of Lalage!
Sir Count! [places her hand on his shoulder.] what art thou dreaming? he�s not well!
What ails thee, sir?
         CASTIGLIONE. [starting.] Cousin! fair cousin! madam!
I crave thy pardon�� indeed I am not well��
Your hand from off my shoulder, if you please.
This air is most oppressive! Madam the Duke!

                                        ENTER DI BROGLIO

         DI BROGLIO. My son, Ive news for thee! hey? whats the
[observing ALESSANDRA.]
I the pouts? Kiss her, Castiglione! kiss her,
You dog! and make it up, I say, this minute!
Ive news for you both. Politian is expected
Hourly in Rome Politian, Earl of Leicester!
Well have him at the wedding. T is his first visit
To the imperial city.
        ALESSANDRA. What! Politian
Of Britain, Earl of Leicester?
        DI BROGLIO.                 The same, my love.
Well have him at the wedding. A man quiet  young
In years, but grey in fame. I have not seen him,
But Rumor speaks of him as of a prodigy
Pre‑eminent in arts and arms, and wealth,
And high descent. We�ll have him at the wedding.
       ALESSANDRA. I have heard much of this Politian.
Gay, volatile, and giddy is he not?
And little given to thinking.
         DI BROGLIO.              Far from it, love.
No branch, they say, of all philosophy
So deep abstruse he has not mastered it.
Learned has a few are learned.
          ALESSANDRA.                T is very strange!
I have known men have seen Politian
And sought his company. They speak of him
As of one who entered madly into life,
Drinking the cup of pleasure to the dregs.
         CASTIGLIONE. Ridiculous! Now I have seen Politian
And know him well nor learned nor mirthful he.
He is a dreamer and a man shut out
From common passions.
         DI BROGLIO.          Children, we disagree.
Let us go forth and taste the fragrant air
Of the garden. Did I dream, or did I hear
Politian was a melancholy man?



A ladys apartment, with a window open and looking into a garden. LALAGE, in deep mourning, reading at a table on which lie some books and a hand mirror. In the background, JACINTA (a servant maid) leans care�lessly upon a chair.

           LALAGE. Jacinta! is it thou?
          JACINTA. [pertly.] Yes, Maam, Im here.
          LALAGE. I did not know, Jacinta, you were in waiting.
Sit down! let no my presence  trouble you
Sit down! for I am humble, most humble.
         JACINTA. [aside.]                                  �T is time.
                                                   [JACINTA seats herself in a side-long
                                                   manner upon the chair, resting her
                                                   elbows upon the back, and regarding
                                                   her mistress with a contemptuous look.
                  LALAGE, continues to read.]
          LALAGE. It in another climate, so he said,
Bore a bright golden flower, but not i this soil!
                                  [pausesturns over some leaves, and  resumes.]
No lingering winters there, nor snow, nor shower
But Ocean ever to refresh mankind
Breathes the shrill spirit of the western wind.
Oh, beautiful! most beautiful! how like
To what my fevered soul doth dream of Heaven!
Oh happy land! [pauses.] She died! the maiden died!
O still more happy maiden who couldst die!
          [JACINTA returns no answer, and LALAGE presently resumes.]
              Again! a similar tale
Told of a beauteous dame beyond the sea!
Thus speaketh one Ferdinand in the words of the play
She died full young one Bossola answers him
I think not so her infelicity
Seemed to have years too many Ah, luckless lady!
Jacinta! [Still not answer.]
          Heres a far sterner story
But like oh, very like in its despair
Of that Egyptian queen, winning so easily
A thousand hearts losing at length her own.
She died. Thus endeth the history and her maids
Lean over her and weep two gentle maids
With gentle names Eiros and Charmion!
Rainbow and Dove! Jacinta!
        JACINTA. [pettishly.]                Madam, what is it?
        LALAGE. Wilt thou, my good Jacinta, be so kind
As go down in the library and bring me

The Holy Evangelists.
       JACINTA.               Pshaw!                                                [Exit.]
       LALAGE.                              If there be balm
For the wounded spirit in Gilead it is there!
Dew in the night‑time of my bitter trouble
Will there be found���dew sweeter far than that
Which hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill.�

                       [Re‑enter JACINTA, and throws a volume on the  table.]
       JACINTA. There, maam,s the book. Indeed she is very troublesome. [aside.]
      LALAGE. [astonished.] What didst thou say, Jacinta? Have I done aught   
To grieve thee or to vex thee? I am sorry.
For thou hast served me long and ever been
Trustworthy and respectful. [resumes her reading.]
       JACINTA.                   I cant believe
She has any more jewels no no she gave me all.      [aside.]
       LALAGE. What didst thou say, Jacinta? Now I bethink me
Thou hast not spoken lately of thy wedding.
How fares good Ugo? and when is it to be?
Can I do aught? is there no farther aid
Thou needest, Jacinta?
         JACINTA.               Is there no farther aid!
Thats meant for me. [aside.] Im sure, Madam, you need not
Be always throwing those jewels in my teeth.
         LALAGE. Jewels! Jacinta, now indeed, Jacinta,
I thought not of the jewels.
         JACINTA.                  Oh! perhaps not!
But then I might have sworn it. After all,
There's Ugo says the ring is only paste,
For hes sure the Count Castiglione never
Would have given a real diamond to such as you;
And at the best Im certain, Madam you cannot
Have use for jewels now. But I might have sworn it.             [Exit.]
                                  [LALAGE bursts into tears and leans her head
                                  upon the tableafter a short pause raises it.]
         LALAGE. Poor Lalage! and is it come to this?
Thy servant maid! but courage! t is but a viper
Whom thou hast cherished to sting thee to the soul!
             [Taking up the mirror.]
Ha! here at leasts a friend too much a friend
 In earlier days�� a friend will not deceive thee.
Fair mirror and true! now tell me (for thou canst)
A tale a pretty tale and heed thou not
Though it be rife with woe. It answers me.
It speaks of sunken eyes, and wasted cheeks,
And Beauty long deceased remembers me
Of Joy departed Hope, the Seraph Hope,
Inurned and entombed! now, in a tone
Low, sad, and solemn, but most audible,
Whispers of early grave untimely yawning
For ruined maid. Fair mirror and true! thou liest not!
Thou hast no end to gain no heart to break
Castiglione lied who said he loved
Thou true he false! false! false!
                                 [While she speaks, a MONK enters her
                                 apartment, and approaches unobserved.]
          MONK.                                       Refuge thou hast,
Sweet daughter! in Heaven. Think of eternal things!
Give up thy soul to penitence, and pray!
          LALAGE. [arising hurriedly.] I cannot pray! My soul is at war with God!
The frightful sounds of merriment below
Disturb my senses go! I cannot pray
The sweet airs from the garden worry me!�
Thy presence grieves me go! thy priestly raiment
Fills me with dread thy ebony crucifix
With horror and awe!
          MONK             Think of thy precious soul!
          LALAGE. Think of my early days! think of my father
And mother in Heaven! think of our quiet home,
And the rivulet that ran before the door!
Think of my little sisters! think of them!
And think of me! think of my trusting love
And confidence his vows my ruin think think
Of my unspeakable misery! begone!
Yet stay! yet stay! what was it thou saidst of prayer
And penitence? Didst thou not speak of faith
And vows before the throne?
        MONK.                            I did.
        LALAGE.                                T is well.
There is a vow were fitting should be made
A sacred vow, imperative, and urgent,
A solemn vow!
          MONK.    Daughter, this zeal is well!
          LALAGE. Father, this zeal is anything but well!
Hast thou a crucifix fit for this thing?
A crucifix whereon to register 
This sacred vow ?              [He hands her is own.]
                              Not that!Oh! no!no! no ! [shuddering.]                                              
Not that! Not that I tell thee, holy man,
Thy raiments and thy ebony cross affright me!
Stand back! I have a crucifix myself,
I have a crucifix! Methinks t were fitting.
The deed the vow the symbol of the deed
And the deeds register should tally, father!
                                     [Draws a cross‑handled dagger and raises it on high.]
Behold the cross wherewith a vow like mine
Is written in Heaven!
          MONK.            Thy words are madness, daughter,
And speak a purpose unholy thy lips are livid
Thine eyes are wild tempt not the wrath divine!
Pause ere too late! oh, be not be not rash!
Swear not the oath oh, swear it not!
        LALAGE.                                       T is sworn!


             An apartment in a palace. POLITIAN and BALDAZZAR

          BALDAZZAR. Arouse thee now, Politian!
Thou must not nay indeed, indeed, thou shalt not
Give way unto these humors. Be thyself!
Shake off the idle fancies that beset thee,
And live, for now thou diest!
          POLITIAN.                    Not so, Baldazzar!
Surely I live.
         BALDAZZAR. Politian, it doth grieve me
To see thee thus.
          POLITIAN. Baldazzar, it doth grieve me
To give thee cause for grief, my honored friend.
Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do?
At thy behest I will shake off that nature
Which from my forefathers I did inherit,
Which with my mothers milk I did imbibe,
And be no more Politian, but some other.
Command me, sir!
         BALDAZZAR. To the field then to the field
To the senate or the field.
          POLITIAN.                Alas! alas!
There is an imp would follow me even there!
There is an imp hath followed me even there!
There iswhat voice was that?
         BALDAZZAR.                                I heard it not.
I heard not any voice except thine own,
And the echo of thine own.
         POLITIAN.                  Then I but dreamed.
         BALDAZZAR. Give not thy soul to dreams: the camp the court
Befit thee Fame awaits the Glory calls
And her the trumpet‑tongued, thou wilt not hear
In hearkening to imaginary sounds
And phantom voices.
         POLITIAN.        It is a phantom voice!
Didst thou not hear it then?
         BALDAZZAR.             I heard it not.
         POLITIAN. Thou heardst it not! Baldazzar speak no more
To me, Politian, of thy camps and courts.
Oh! I am sick, sick, sick, even unto death,
Of the hollow and high‑sounding vanities
Of the populous Earth! Bear with me yet awhile!
We have been boys together school‑fellows
And now are friends yet shall not be so long
For in the eternal city thou shalt do me
A kind and gentle office, and a Power
A Power august, benignant and supreme
Shall then absolve thee of all farther duties
Unto thy friend.
         BALDAZZAR. Thou speakest a fearful riddle
I will not understand.
          POLITIAN.       Yet now as Fate
Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low,
The sands of Time are changed to golden grains
And dazzle me, Baldazzar. Alas! alas!
I cannot die, having within my heart
So keen a relish for the beautiful
As hath been kindled within it. Methinks the air
Is balmier now than it was wont to be
Rich melodies are floating in the winds
A rarer loveliness bedecks the earth
And with a holier lustre the quiet moon
Sitteth in heaven. Hist! hist! thou canst not say
Thou hearest not now, Baldazzar?
         BALDAZZAR.                          Indeed I hear not.
         POLITIAN.  Not hear it! listen now! listen! the faintest sound
And yet the sweetest that ear ever heard!
A ladys voice! and sorrow in the tone!
Baldazzar, it oppresses me like a spell!
Again! again! how solemnly it falls
Into my heart of hearts! that eloquent voice
Surely I never heard yet it were well
Had I but heard it with its thrilling tones
In earlier days!
          BALDAZZAR. I myself hear it now.
Be still! the voice, if I mistake not greatly,
Proceeds from yonder lattice which you may see
Very plainly through the window it belongs,
Does it not? unto this palace of the Duke.
The singer is undoubtedly beneath
The roof of his Excellency and perhaps
Is even that Alessandra of whom he spoke
As the betrothed of Castiglione,
His son and heir.
         POLITIAN. Be still! it comes againI
        VOICE. [very faintly.]
                                  And is thy heart so strong
                                   As for to leave me thus
                                   Who hath loved thee so long
                                   In wealth and wo among?
                                   And is thy heart so strong
                                   As for to leave me thus?
                                                Say nay say nay!
          BALDAZZAR. The song is English, and I oft have heard it
In merry England never so plaintively
Hist! hist! it comes again!
         VOICE. [more loudly.]
                                              �Is it so strong
                                   As for to leave me thus
                                   Who hath loved thee so long
                                     In wealth and wo among?
                                   And is thy heart so strong
                                   As for to leave me thus?
                                             Say nay say nay!
            BALDAZZAR. T is hushed and all is still!
            POLITIAN.                                                   All is not still.
            BALDAZZAR. Let us go down.
            POLITIAN.                                 Go down, Baldazzar, go!
            BALDAZZAR.The hour is growing late the Duke awaits us,
Thy presence is expected in the hall
Below. What ails thee, Earl Politian?
          VOICE. [distinctly.]
                                   �Who hath loved thee so long,
                                     In wealth and wo among,
                                     And is thy heart so strong?
                                                 Say nay say nay!
            BALDAZZAR. Let us descend! t is time. Politian, give
These fancies to the wind. Remember, pray,
Your bearing lately savored much of rudeness
Unto the Duke. Arouse thee! and remember!
           POLITIAN. Remember? I do. Lead on! I do remember. [going.]    
Let us descend. Believe me, I would give,
Freely would give the broad lands of my earldom
To look upon the face hidden by yon lattice
To gaze upon that veiled face, and hear
Once more that silent tongue.
         BALDAZZAR.                  Let me beg you, sir,
Descend with me�� the Duke may be offended.
Let us go down, I pray you.
         VOICE.  [loudly.]       �Say nay say nay!
         POLITIAN. [aside.]T is strange! t is very strange methought the voice.
 Chimed in with my desires and bade me stay! [approaching the window.]
Sweet voice! I heed thee, and will surely stay.
Now be this Fancy, by Heaven, or be it Fate,
Still will I not descend. Baldazzar, make
Apology unto the Duke for me;
I go not down to‑night.
         BALDAZZAR.      Your lordships pleasure
Shall be attended to. Good‑night, Politian.
         POLITIAN. Good‑night, my friend, good‑night.



      The gardens of a palace Moonlight. LALAGE and POLITIAN

       LALAGE. And dost thou speak of love
To me, Politian? dost thou speak of love
To Lalage? ah, wo ah, wo is me!
This mockery is most cruel most cruel indeed!
       POLITIAN. Weep not! oh, sob not thus! thy bitter tears
Will madden me. Oh, mourn not, Lalage
Be comforted! I know I know it all,
And still I speak of love. Look at me, brightest,
And beautiful Lalage! turn here thine eyes!
Thou askest me if I could speak of love,
Knowing what I know, and seeing what I have seen.
Thou askest me that and thus I answer thee
Thus on my bended  knee I answer thee.                    [kneeling.]
Sweet Lalage, I love  theelove theelove thee;
Thro good and ill thro weal and woe I love thee;
Not mother, with her first-born on her knee,
Thrills with intenser love than I for thee.
Not on Gods altar, in any time or clime,
Burned there a holier fire than burneth now
Within my spirit for thee. And do I love?                           [arising.]
Even for thy woes I love thee even for thy woes
Thy beauty and thy woes.
         LALAGE.                  Alas, proud Earl,
Thou dost forget thyself, remembering me!
How, in thy fathers halls, among the maidens
Pure and reproachless, of thy princely line,
Could the dishonored Lalage abide?
Thy wife, and with a tainted memory
My seared and blighted name, how would it tally
With the ancestral honors of thy house,
And with thy glory?
       POLITIAN.     Speak not to me of glory!
I hate I loathe the name; I do abhor
The unsatisfactory and ideal thing.
Art thou not Lalage and I Politian?
Do I not love art thou not beautiful
What need we more? Ha! glory! now speak not of it.
By all I hold most sacred and most solemn
By all my wishes now my fears hereafter
By all I scorn on earth and hope in heaven
There is no deed I would more glory in,
Than in thy cause to scoff at this same glory
And trample it under foot. What matters it
What matters it, my fairest, and my best,
That we go down unhonored and forgotten
Into the dust�� so we descend together.
Descend together�� and then�� and then perchance��
       LALAGE. Why dost thou pause, Politian?

       POLITIAN.                                                    And then perchance
Arise together, Lalage, and roam
The starry and quiet dwellings of the blest,
And still
        LALAGE. Why dost thou pause, Politian?
       POLITIAN. And still together together.
       LALAGE.                                                Now, Earl of Leicester!
Thou lovest me, and in my heart of hearts
I feel thou lovest me truly.
         POLITIAN.                Oh, Lalage!  [throwing himself upon 
                                                                 his knee.]
And thou lovest me?
         LALAGE.          Hist! hush! within the gloom
Of yonder trees methought a figure past
A spectral figure, solemn, and slow, and noiseless
Like the grim shadow Conscience, solemn and noiseless.
                                                                         [Walks across and returns.]
I was mistakent was but a giant bough
Stirred by the autumn wind. Politian!
          POLITIAN. My Lalage my love! why art thou moved?
Why dost thou turn so pale? Not Conscienceself,
Far less a shadow which thou likenest to it,
Should shake the firm spirit thus. But the night wind
Is chilly and these melancholy boughs
Throw over all things a gloom.
         LALAGE                           Politian!
Thou speakest to me of love. Knowest thou the land
With which all tongues are busy a land new found
Miraculously found by one of Genoa
A thousand leagues within the golden west?
A fairy land of flowers, and fruit, and sunshine,
And crystal lakes, and over‑arching forests,
And mountains, around whose towering summits the winds
Of Heaven untrammelled flow which air to breathe
Is Happiness now, and will be Freedom hereafter
In days that are to come?
          POLITIAN.                O, wilt thou wilt thou
Fly to that Paradise my Lalage, wilt thou
Fly thither with me? There Care shall be forgotten,
And Sorrow shall be no more, and Eros be all.
And life shall then be mine, for I will live
For thee, and in thine eyes and thou shalt be
No more a mourner but the radiant Joys
Shall wait upon thee, and the angel Hope
Attend thee ever; and I will kneel to thee
And worship thee, and call thee my beloved,
My own, my beautiful, my love, my wife,
My all;oh, wilt thou wilt thou, Lalage,
Fly thither with me?
       LALAGE.          A deed is to be done
Castiglione lives!
      POLITIAN.     And he shall die!                                          [Exit.]
      LALAGE. [after a pause.] and he shall die! alas!
Castiglione die? Who spoke the words?
Where I am what was it he said? Politian!
Thou art not gone thou art not gone, Politian.
I feel thou art not gone yet dare not look,
Lest I behold thee not; thou couldst not go
With those words upon thy lips O, speak to me!
And let me hear thy voice one word one word,
To say thou art not gone, one little sentence,
To say how thou dost scorn�� how thou dost hate
My womanly weakness. Ha! ha! thou art not gone
O speak to me! I knew thou wouldst not go!
I knew thou wouldst not, couldst not, durst not go.
Villain, thou art not gone thou mockest me!
And thus I clutch thee thus! He is gone, he is gone
Gone gone. Where am I? t is wellt is very well!
So that the blade be keen the blow be sure,
T is well, t is very well alas! alas!                                        [Exit.]


                                   The suburbs. POLITAN alone.

        POLITIAN. This weakness grows upon me. I am faint,
And much I fear me ill it will not do
To die ere I have lived! �� Stay� stay thy hand,
O Azrael, yet awhile! Prince of the Powers
Of Darkness and the Tomb, O pity me!
O pity me! let me not perish now,
In the budding of my Paradisal Hope!
Give me to live yet yet a little while:
T is I who pray for life I who so late
Demanded but to die! what sayeth the Count?

                                     ENTER BALDAZZAR.

         BALDAZZAR. That knowing no cause of quarrel or of feud
Between the Earl Politian and himself,
He doth decline your cartel.
         POLITIAN.                             What didst thou say?
What answer was it you brought me, good Baldazzar?
With what excessive fragrance the zephyr comes
Laden from yonder bowers! a fairer day,
Or one more worthy Italy, methinks
No mortal eyes have seen! what said the Count?
         BALDAZZAR. That he, Castiglione, not being aware
Of any feud existing, or any cause
Of quarrel between your lordship and himself
Cannot accept the challenge.
        POLITIAN.                       It is most true
All this is very true. When saw you, sir,
When saw you now, Baldazzar, in the frigid
Ungenial Britain which we left so lately,
A heaven so calm as this so utterly free
From the evil taint of clouds? and he did say?
          BALDAZZAR. No more, my lord, than I have told you, sir:
The Count Castiglione will not fight,
Having no cause for quarrel.
         POLITIAN.                     Now this is true
All very true. Thou art my friend, Baldazzar,
And I have not forgotten it thou lt do me
A piece of service; wilt thou go back and say
Unto this man, that I, the Earl of Leicester,
Hold him a villain? thus much, I prythee, say
Unto the Count it is exceeding just
He should have cause for quarrel.
          BALDAZZAR.                        My lord! my friend!
          POLITIAN. [aside.]T is he he comes himself ! [aloud.] Thou reasonest well.
I know what thou wouldst say not send the message
Well! I will think of it I will not send it.
Now prythee, leave me hither doth come a person
With whom affairs of a most private nature
I would adjust.
           BALDAZZAR. I go  to‑morrow we meet,
Do we not? at the Vatican.
           POLITIAN.                      At the Vatican.     [Exit BALDAZZAR.]

                                     ENTER CASTIGLIONE.

            CASTIGLIONE. The Earl of Leicester here!
            POLITIAN. I am the Earl of Leicester, and thou seest,
Dost thou not? that I am here.
            CASTIGLIONE.            My lord, some strange,
Some singular mistake misunderstanding
Hath without doubt arisen: thou hast been urged
Thereby, in heat of anger, to address
Some words most unaccountable, in writing,
To me, Castiglione; the bearer being
Baldazzar, Duke of Surrey. I am aware
Of nothing which might warrant thee in this thing,
Having given thee no offence. Ha! am I right?
T was a mistake? undoubtedly we all
Do err at times.
         POLITIAN. Draw, villain, and prate no more!
         CASTIGLIONE. Ha! draw? and villain? have at thee then at once,
Proud Earl!                                                                           [draws.]
        POLITIAN. [drawing.] Thus to the expiatory tomb,
Untimely sepulchre, I do devote thee
In the name of Lalage!
        CASTIGLIONE. [letting fall his sword and recoiling to the extremity of the stage.]
                                    of Lalage!
Hold off thy sacred hand avaunt I say!
Avaunt I will not fight thee indeed I dare not.
        POLITIAN. Thou wilt not fight with me didst say, Sir Count?
Shall I be baffled thus? �� now this is well;
Didst say thou darest not? Ha!
        CASTIGLIONE.                  I dare notdare not
 Hold off thy hand with that beloved name
So fresh upon thy lips I will not fight thee
I cannot� dare not
        POLITIAN.      Now by my halidom
I do believe thee! coward, I do believe thee!
        CASTIGLIONE. Ha! coward! this may not be!
                                        [Clutches his sword and staggers towards 
                                        POLITIAN, but his purpose is changed
                                        before reaching him, and he falls upon his
                                        knee at the feet of the Earl.]
                                                                                    Alas! my lord,
It is it is most true. In such a cause
I am the veriest coward. O pity me!
        POLITIAN. [greatly softened.] Alas! I do indeed I pity thee.
        CASTIGLIONE. And Lalage
        POLITIAN.                               Scoundrel!arise and die!
        CASTIGLIONE. It needeth not be thus thus O let me die
Thus on my bended knee. It were most fitting
That in this deep humiliation I perish.
For in the fight I will not raise a hand
Against thee, Earl of Leicester. Strike thou home[baring his bosom.]
Here is no let or hindrance to thy weapon
Strike home. I will not fight thee.
         POLITIAN.                            Nows Death and Hell!
Am I not am I not sorely grievously tempted
To take thee at thy word? But mark me, sir!
Think not to fly me thus. Do thou prepare
For public insult in the streets before
The eyes of the citizens. Ill follow thee
Like an avenging spirit Ill follow thee
Even unto death. Before those whom thou lovest
Before all Rome, Ill taunt thee, villain Ill taunt thee,
Dost hear? with cowardice thou wilt not fight me?
Thou lies! thou shalt!                                                             [Exit.]
          CASTIGLIONE. Now this indeed is just!
Most righteous, and most just, avenging Heaven!