I'll crush thy swelling pride—I'll still thy vaunting—
I'll do a deed of blood—Why shrink I thus?
If, by some spell or magick sympathy,
Piercing the lifeless figure on that wall
Could pierce his bosom too, would I not cast it?
(Throwing a dagger against the wall.)
Shall groans and blood affright me? No, I'll do it.
Tho' gasping life beneath my pressure heav'd,
And my soul shudder'd at the horrid brink,
I would not finch.—Fy, this recoiling nature!
O that his sever'd limbs were strew'd in air,
So as I saw him not!
(Enter Rezenvelt behind, from the glass door. De Monfort turns round, and on seeing him starts back, then drawing his sword, rushes furiously upon him.)
Now open villany, now open hate!
Defend thy life.
Rez.De Monfort, thou art mad.
De Mon. Speak not, but draw. Now for thy hated life!
(They fight: Rezenvelt parries his thrusts with great skill, and at last disarms him.)
Rez. No, Monfort, but I'll take away your sword.
Not as a mark of disrespect to you,
But for your safety. By to-morrow's eve
