Page:Passions 2.pdf/369

Rh

''Her. (to'' Ethwald.) Now, thou fell ruthless lion, that hast made With bloody rage thy native forest waste! The spearmen are upon thee! to the strife Turn thy rough breast: thou canst no more escape.

Ethw. Quick to thy villain's work, thou wordy coward, Who in the sick man's chamber seek'st the fame Thou dar'st not in th' embattled field attain! I am prepar'd to front thee and thy mates Her. The sick man's chamber! darest thou, indeed. Begrimed as thou art with blood and crimes, 'Gainst man committed, human rights assume? Thou art a hideous and envenom'd snake, Whose wounded length, even in his noisome hole, Men fiercely hunt, for love of human kind; And, wert thou scotch'd to the last ring of life, E'en that poor remnant of thy curs'd existence Should be trode out i' th' dust.