LUIS. Yes, I have heard
Of that cave, and every word
Made my hair to stand on end.
Those who in the neighbourhood
Dwell, see wonders every day.
PAUL. Since, 'mid terror and dismay,
In your melancholy mood
You will no one hear or see,
Ever locked within your room,
It is plain you have not come
Aught to learn, how strange they be,
Of these things. It doth appear
Other work you are about.
Satisfy my foolish doubt,
And say why we have come here.
LUIS. to your questions thus I yield:
Yes, I forced you, as you mention,
From your house, and my intention
Was to kill you in the field;
But I thought it best instead
You to make my steps attend
As my comrade and my friend,
Shaking off the mortal dread
Which forbad me to endure
Any stranger, and in fine,
That your arms being joined with mine,
I might feel the more secure.
Many a land, both far and near,
Passing through you fared right well;
And now answering I will tell
Why it is that we come here.
And 'tis this: I come to slay
Here a man who did me wrong,
'Tis for this I pass along,
Muffled in this curious way,
Hiding country, dress, and name;
And the night suits best for me,
For my powerful enemy
Can the first position claim
In the land. Since I avow
Why I hither have been led,
Listen now how I have sped
In my project until now.
I three days ago was brought
To this city in disguise,
For two nights, beneath the skies,
I my enemy have sought
In his street and at his door;
Twice a muffled figure came
And disturbed me in my aim,
Twice he called and stalked before
Him I followed in the street;
But when I the figure neared,
Suddenly he disappeared
As if wings were on his feet.
I this third night have brought you,
That should this mysterious shape
Come again, he sha'nt escape,
Being caught between us two;
Who he is we then can see.
PAUL. Two? who are they?
LUIS. You and I.
PAUL. I'm not one.
LUIS. Not one? How? Why?
PAUL. No, sir, no. I cannot be
One, nor half a one. These stories
Faith! would frighten fifty Hectors;
What know I of Lady Spectres,
Or of Lord Don Purgatories?
All through life I've kept aloof
From the other world's affairs,
Shunning much superfluous cares;
But, my courage put to proof,
Bid me face a thousand men,
And if I don't cut and run
From the thousand, nay, from one,
Never trust to me again.
For I think it quite a case
Fit for Bedlam, if so high,
That a man would rather die,
Than just take a little race.
Such a trifle! Sir, to me
Life is precious; leave me here,
Where you'd find me, never fear.
LUIS. Here's the house; to-night I'll be,
Philip, your predestined fate.
Now we'll see if heaven pretends
To defend him, and defends.—
Watch here, you, beside the gate.
* * * * *