and so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; be thou reveng’d on men, and let me live. Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again: he is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. 1101 Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine, were not revenge sufficient for me; no, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves, it could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. is as a fury to torment my soul; [Lifting his hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death:to thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me! Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me? Clif. Thy father hath Rut. But 'twas ere I was born. Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; lest, in revenge thereof,-since God is just,— Ah, let me live in prison all my days; and when I give occasion of offence, then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. Clif. No cause? Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. W. SHAKESPEARE 1 102 ARCAS SEEING MEROPE WITH THE AXE UPLIFTED AGAINST ÆPYTUS Arc. Mer. HAT do I see? WHAT Therefore no words! A murderer at death's door. Arc. Mer. Arc. Mer. A murderer? And a captive to the dear next-of-kin to him he murdered. Stand and let vengeance pass! thou know'st not whom thou strik'st... Arc. Unhappy one! thou strik'st- Hold, O Queen, hold! I know his crime. A most just blow. Stand off! Thy son! Arc. No, by the gods, thou slay'st Mer. Arc. Mer. Ah!... [she lets the axe drop and falls insensible] Arc. EPYTUS (awaking) Who are these? What shrill, ear-piercing scream wakes me thus kindly from the perilous sleep wherewith fatigue and youth had bound mine eyes, even in the deadly palace of my foe?— Arcas! Thou here? O my dear master! O my child, my charge belov'd, welcome to life! as dead we held thee, mourn'd for thee as dead. 1103 Ep. In word I died, that I in deed might live. But who are these? Arc. Ep. And, Arcas!-but I tremble! Arc. Messenian maidens, friends. Boldly ask. Merope. Ep. That black-robed, swooning figure?... Ep. O mother! mother! Ep. No, by the Gods, alive and like to live! Ep. 1104 LORD TALBOT, EARL OF SHREWSBURYJOHN HIS SON S my name Talbot? and am I your son? Jon. and shall I fly? O, if you love my mother, dishonour not her honourable name, to make a bastard and a slave of me! your loss is great, so your regard should be; rather than life preserved with infamy. 1105 Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb? Joh. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb. Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go. Joh. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. Tal. Part of thy father may be saved in thee. Joh. No part of him but will be shame in me. Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it. If death be so apparent, then both fly. Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight and die? Joh. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son, Come, side by side together live and die; W. SHAKESPEARE 1106 Mac. IF MACBETH-LADY MACBETH F it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well that tears shall drown the wind.-I have no spur and falls on the other.-How now, what news? 1107 L.M. He has almost supp'd; why have you left the chamber? Know you not, he has? Mac. Hath he asked for me? L. M. L. M. Mac. L. M. he hath honoured me of late; and I have bought which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Was the hope drunk, such I account thy love. From this time to be the same in thine own act and valour, Prithee peace: none. What beast was 't then, that made you break this enterprise to me? when you durst do it, then you were a man; and, to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both: they have made themselves, and that their fitness now does unmake you. I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums, and dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you have done to this. 1108 Mac. L. M. If we should fail, We fail! but screw your courage to the sticking-place, |