SITTAH.
Embellish—
SALADIN.
But their fine-wrought filligree
In my rude hand would break. It is for those
That can contrive them to employ such weapons:
They ask a practised wrist. But chance what may,
Well as I can—
SITTAH.
Trust not yourself too little.
I answer for you, if you have the will.
Such men as you would willingly persuade us
It was their swords, their swords alone that raised them.
The lion’s apt to be ashamed of hunting
In fellowship of the fox—’tis of his fellow
Not of the cunning that he is ashamed.
SALADIN.
You women would so gladly level man
Down to yourselves. Go, I have got my lesson.
SITTAH.
What—must I go?