And struck amain. The man I drew it on,
Seeing the coming blow, caught hold of it,
And struck it back on me; I, yet more skilful,
With God’s good help did so present myself
That, when he struck at me, my own dagger’s point
Return’d into its sheath, as here you see it.
Enough, I heard the cry of ‘Alguazils!’
Ran off, and, entering the first open door,
Now ask for sanctuary at your feet.
Fel. I think it is your trepidation