We grant, thou canst out-scold us; face the cull,
We hold our time too precious to be spent

With such a babbler.

Pand. Give me leave to speak.

Faul. No, I will speak.

Lewis. We will attend to neither.

Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war

Plead for our interests, and our king here.

Faul. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start

An echo with the clamor of thy drum,

And even at hand a drum is ready braced,
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine;
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine rattle the welkin's ear,

And pluck the deep-mouthed thunder; for at hand
(Not trusting to this halting legate here,

Whom he hath used rather for sport than need,)

Is warlike John: and in his forehead sits

A bare-ribbed death, whose office is this day

To feast upon whole thousands of the French.

Lewis. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
Faul. And thou shalt find it, dauphin, do not doubt.

Ex. CCXLIV.-VILLAINY OUTWITTED.-DIALOGUE FROM ·

THE WIFE.

ST. PIERRE, FERRARDO.

St. Pier. Are we alone?

KNOWLES.

Fer. What's this?

St. Pier. Are we alone! where are the craven minions That overpowered me in the corridor,

And at thy bidding dragged me hither?

Fer. Pshaw!

Art thou no wiser than to heed them? know'st not

'Twas done upon my instruction-mine-thy friend's?

St. Pier. Are we alone?

Fer. We are alone.

St. Pier. Art sure

That door is unattended? that no minions

Watch it without?

Fer. I am.

St. Pier. Wilt lock it?

Fer. [Locking it and returning.] There!
St. Pier. [Springing upon him.] Villain!
Fer. What means this violence?

St. Pier. You struck me

When I contended with the recreants,

That smite this moment what the one before

They fawned upon!-Across their arms you struck
And felled me with the blow!-now take it back!
Fer. Stop! you'll repent it if you strike!

St. Pier. I tell thee,

I ne'er received a blow from mortal man

But I did pay it back with interest!-One by one
I have parted with those virtues of a man
Which precept doth inculcate; but one grace
Remains the growth of nature-the true shoot
Abuse could not eradicate, and leave

The trunk and root alive,—one virtue-manhood!
The brow whereon doth sit disdain of threat,
Defiance of aggression, and revenge

For contumely. You did strike me! Come!
I must have blow for blow!

Fer. [Drawing his dagger.] Let fall thy hand
Upon my person-lo, my dagger's free,

And I will sheathe it in thy heart !

St. Pier. I care not,

So I die quits with thee!

Fer. I would not kill thee,

So don't advance thy hand! Nay, listen first,
And then, if thou wilt, strike me!-Strike!-abuse

Thy friend, who, when he struck thee, was thy friend

As much as he is now, or ever was:

Who struck thee but that he should seem thy foe,
To hide indeed how much he was thy friend.
St. Pier. How came I yesternight

To sleep in the chamber of the duke? And why
This morning, when I left the ante-room,

Was I assaulted by thy minions?

Fer. Pshaw!

Enough, thou slept'st where thou didst sleep, next chamber To the duke's wife, and thereby mad'st thy fortune.

For

every ducat of the sum I named

Is thine-but render me one service more.

St. Pier. Name it.

Fer. Just write for me, in boasting vein, Confession thou did'st pillow yesternight There, where the honor of the duke forbids That head save his should lie.

Why do you gaze? 'Tis easily done.

St. Pier. It is.

Fer. It takes but pen and ink, and here they are; Make use of time! the hour that is not used

Is lost, and might have been the luckiest,
Converted to account: what ponder'st thou?
St. Pier. [Writing.] Have you done?
Fer. I have.

St. Pier. And so

Have I-a fair commencement! better far
Continuation! and the winding up

The fairest of the whole! howsoe'er of that

Your highness shall be judge:-'sdeath, here's a word
I did not mean to write, for one I wanted!

I needs must take it out.-I pray your highness
Lend me a knife.

Fer. I have not one.

St. Pier. Well, then,

Your dagger-if the edge of it is sharp.

Fer. There 'tis.

St. Pier. And there is the confession, duke,

Sign it.

Fer. Why, this is my confession!

St. Pier. Aye,

Indeed, your highness?

Fer. Word for word.

St. Pier. You'll own

I'm something of a clerk-I hardly hoped

It would have pleased your highness! My lord duke, Sign the confession.

Fer. Why?

St. Pier. It pleases me.

If that contents thee not, I'm in thy power,

And I'd have thee in mine!

I am frank with you.

Your highness sees

Fer. Can it be you, St. Pierre?

St. Pier. No-it is you!-and not the peasant lad, Whom fifteen years ago in evil hour

You chanced to cross upon his native hills,

In whose quick eye you saw the subtile spirit
Which suited you, and tempted it; who took
Your hint, and followed you to Mantua
Without his father's knowledge-his old father
Who, thinking that he had a prop in him

Man could not rob him of, and Heaven would spare,
Blessed him one night, ere he laid down to sleep,
And waking in the morning found him gone!

[FERRARDO attempts to rise.]

Move not, or I shall move-you know me!

Fer. Nay,
I'll keep my seat. St. Pierre, I trained thee like
A cavalier!

St. Pier. You did-you gave me masters,
And their instructions quickly I took up

As they did lay them down! I got the start

Of my contemporaries!-not a youth

Of whom could read, write, speak, command a weapon,

Or rule a horse with me! you gave me all

All the equipments of a man of honor,

But you did find a use for me, and made
A slave, a profligate of me.

I charge you, keep your seat!
Fer. You see I do!

[FERRARDO about to rise.]

St. Pierre, be reasonable!-you forget
There are ten thousand ducats.

St. Pier. Give me, duke,

The eyes that looked upon my father's face!
The hands that helped my father to his wish!
The feet that flew to do my father's will!
The heart that bounded at my father's voice!
And say that Mantua were built of ducats,
And I could be its duke at cost of these,

I would not give them for it! Mark me, duke!
I saw a new-made grave in Mantua,

And on the head-stone read my father's name ;-
To seek me, doubtless, hither he had come-

To seek the child that had deserted him-

And died here,-ere he found me.

Heaven can tell how far he wandered else!

Upon that grave I knelt an altered man,

And rising thence, I fled from Mantua. Nor had returned But tyrant hunger drove me back again

To thee to thee!--My body to relieve

At cost of my dear soul! I have done thy work,
Do mine! and sign me that confession straight.
I'm in your power, and I'll have thee in mine!
Fer. Art thou indeed in earnest!

St. Pier. Look in my eyes.

Fer. Saint Pierre, perhaps I have underpaid thee?
St. Pier. Sign!

Fer. I'll double the amount!

St. Pier. Come, sign!

Fer. Saint Pierre,

Will forty thousand ducats please thee?

St. Pier. There's

The dial, and the sun is shining on it-
The shadow is on the very point of twelve-
My case is desperate! Your signature
Of vital moment is unto my peace!
My eye is on the dial! Pass the shadow
The point of noon, the breadth of but a hair
As can my eye discern-and, that unsigned,
The steel is in thy heart-I speak no more!
Fer. Saint Pierre !-Not speak ?—Saint Pierre!
St. Pier. Is it signed?

Fer. [Writing hurriedly.] It is!

Ex. CCXLV.-THIRD SCENE FROM ION.

ION, AGENOR, PHOCION.

TALFOURD.

[ION forgives PHOCION's attempt to assassinate him.]
Enter ION and AGENOR.

Agen. Wilt thou not in to rest?

Ion. My rest is here

Beneath the greatness of the heavens, which awes
My spirit, tossed by sudden change, and torn

By various passions, to repose. Yet age

Requires more genial nourishment-pray seek it-
I will but stay thee to inquire once more

If any symptom of returning health

Bless the wan city?

Agen. No: the perishing