Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/406

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Like crannied vermin,—no! but fresh, and young,
And hopeful featured. Ha! by Heaven you weep!
Tears, human tears! Do you repent you then
Of a curs'd torturer's office? Why shouldst join,—
Tell me,—the league of devils? Confess—confess—
The lie!

 Gersa. Lie!—but begone all ceremonious points
Of honor battailous! I could not turn
My wrath against thee for the orbed world.

 Ludolph. Your wrath weak boy? Tremble at mine, unless
Retraction follow close upon the heels
Of that late stounding insult! Why has my sword
Not done already a sheer judgment on thee?
Despair, or eat thy words! Why, thou wast nigh
Whimpering away my reason! Hark'e, sir,
It is no secret, that Erminia,
Erminia, sir, was hidden in your tent,—
O bless'd asylum! Comfortable home!
Begone! I pity thee; thou art a gull,
Erminia's last new puppet!

 Gersa. Furious fire!
Thou mak'st me boil as hot as thou canst flame!
And in thy teeth I give thee back the lie!
Thou liest! Thou, Auranthe's fool! A wittol!

 Ludolph. Look! look at this bright sword;
There is no part of it, to the very hilt,
But shall indulge itself about thine heart!
Draw! but remember thou must cower thy plumes,
As yesterday the Arab made thee stoop.

 Gersa. Patience! Not here; I would not spill thy blood