Mertoun. 'Twixt him and me and Mildred, Heaven be judge!
Can I avoid this? Have your will, my lord!
[He draws and, after a few passes, falls.
Tresham. You are not hurt?
Mertoun. You'll hear me now!
Tresham. But rise!
Mertoun. Ah, Tresham, say I not "you'll hear me now!"
And what procures a man the right to speak
In his defense before his fellow man,
But—I suppose—the thought that presently
He may have leave to speak before his God
His whole defense?
Tresham. Not hurt? It cannot be!
You made no effort to resist me. Where
Did my sword reach you? Why not have returned
[245]My thrusts? Hurt where?
Mertoun. My lord—
Tresham. How young he is!
Mertoun. Lord Tresham, I am very young, and yet
I have entangled other lives with mine.
Do let me speak, and do believe my speech!
That when I die before you presently,—