Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/332

a silver flagon of water. ANNICCA seizes it and raises it to RIBERA S lips. He takes it from her hand and drinks.

RTBERA.

How your hand trembles !
See, mine is firm. You had spilt it o er my beard
Had I not saved it. Thanks. I am strong again.
I am very old for such a steady grasp.
Why, girl, most men as hoary as thy father
Are long since palsied. But my firm touch comes
From handling of the brush. I am a painter,
The Spagnoletto

[As he speaks his name he suddenly throws off his apathy, rises to his full height, and casts the flagon to the ground.

Ah, the Spagnoletto,
Disgraced, abandoned! My exalted name
The laughing-stock of churls; my hearthstone stamped
With everlasting shame ; my pride, my fame,
Mine honor where are they ? With yon spilt water,
Fouled in the dust, sucked by the thirsty air.
Now, by Christ s blood, my vengeance shall be huge
As mine affront. I will demand full justice
From Philip. We will treat as King with King.
He shall be stripped of rank and name and wealth,