Mor. Oh! your name hath stirr’d
His soul amidst his tents, and he had vow’d,
Long ere we met, to cross his sword with yours,
Till one or both should fall. There hath been death
Since then, amongst us; he will seek revenge.
And his revenge—forgive me!—oh! forgive!
—I could not bear that thought!
Aym. Now must the glance
Of a brave man strike me to the very dust!
Ay, this is shame.