Seb. O patience, heaven!
Dor. Beware of patience, too;
That's a suspicious word. It had been proper,
Before thy foot had spurned me; now 'tis base:
Yet, to disarm thee of thy last defence,
I have thy oath for my security.
The only boon I begged was this fair combat:
Fight, or be perjured now; that's all thy choice.
Seb. Now can I thank thee as thou would'st be thanked. [Drawing.
Never was vow of honour better paid,
If my true sword but hold, than this shall be.
The sprightly bridegroom, on his wedding night,
More gladly enters not the lists of love:
416 Why, 'tis enjoyment to be summoned thus.
Go, bear my message to Henriquez ghost;
And say, his master and his friend revenged him.
Dor. His ghost! then is my hated rival dead?
Seb. The question is beside our present purpose:
Thou seest me ready; we delay too long.
Dor. A minute is not much in either's life,
When there's but one betwixt us; throw it in,
And give it him of us who is to fail.
Seb. He's dead; make haste, and thou may'st yet o'ertake him.
Dor. When I was hasty, thou delayed'st me longer—
I pr'ythee let me hedge one moment more
Into thy promise: For thy life preserved,
Be kind; and tell me how that rival died,
Whose death, next thine, I wished.
Seb. If it would please thee, thou shouldst never know;
But thou, like jealousy, enquir'st a truth,
Which, found, will torture thee.—He died in fight;
Fought next my person; as in concert fought;
Kept pace for pace, and blow for every blow;
Save when he heaved his shield in my defence,
And on his naked side received my wound.
Then, when he could no more, he fell at once;
But rolled his falling body cross their way,
And made a bulwark of it for his prince.
Dor. I never can forgive him such a death!