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? ’Twas 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 not—dare 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.