Castiglione

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. Now s’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. I’ll follow thee— Like an avenging spirit I’ll follow thee Even unto death. Before those whom thou lovest— Before all Rome I’ll taunt thee, villain,—I’ll taunt thee, Dost hear? with cowardice—thou wilt not fight me? Thou liest! thou shalt! [Exit.

CASTIGLIONE. Now this indeed is just! Most righteous, and most just, avenging Heaven!