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XIV. A NOBLE REVENGE
BY PHILIP MASSINGER Rutilio, an Italian, flying from his native land, reaches
Lisbon, and is forced into a street fight with a young Portuguese nobleman whom he runs through and leaves for dead. To escape capture, he rushes through an open door into a house hard by. It belongs to Guiomar, sister of Manuel du Sosa, the governor of Lisbon, and mother of Duarte, a gifted and high-spirited young man, but overbearing and quarrelsome. The feuds which he
wantonly provokes cause his mother great anxiety. The scene is a bedroom in the house of Guiomar.
Enter Guiomar and her Servants.
Haste and seek him, Go all, and everywhere ; I'll not to bed Till you return him. Take away the lights too ; The moon lends me too much to find my fears, And those devotions I am to pay Are written in my heart, not in this book, And I shall read them there without a taper.
[She kneels in prayer. Exeunt Servants with lights. Enter Rutilio. He moves cautiously, feeling his way, and
speaks in a low voice. Rutilio. I am pursued; all the ports are stopped too; Not any hope to escape ; behind, before me, On either side, I am beset-cursed fortune ! Redeemed from one affliction to another. Would I had made the greedy waves my tomb And died obscure and innocent! not, as Nero, Smeared o'er with blood. Whither have my fears brought
I am got into a house ; the doors all open ;
Murmur nor whisper?
Who's that ?
By the voice 20 This is a woman.
Guiomar. Stephano, Jasper, Julia ! Who waits there?
Rutilio [aside]. 'Tis the lady of the house ; I'll fly to her protection. Guiomar [rising]. Speak, what are you? Rutilio. Of all that ever breathed, a man most wretched.
Guiomar. I am sure you are a man of most ill manners; You could not with so little reverence else
26 Press to my private chamber. Whither would you ? Or what do you seek for ? Rutilio.
Gracious woman, hear me : I am a stranger, and in that I answer All your demands; a most unfortunate stranger 30 That, called unto it by my enemy's pride, Have left him dead i' the streets. Justice pursues me, And for that life I took unwillingly And in a fair defence, I must lose mine, Unless you in your charity protect me.
Guiomar. Are you a Castilian ?
I ask not
this stir not:
The blest saints pay for me The infinite debt I owe you !
How he quakes! Thus far I feel his heart beat. (Aloud.] Be of comfort ; Once more I give my promise for your safety. All men are subject to such accidents,
55 Especially the valiant : [aside] and who knows not But that the charity I afford this stranger My only son elsewhere may stand in need of ?
Enter Page, Officers, and Servants, with the body of
Guiomar's son Duarte. Lights are brought in. First Servant. Now, madam, if your wisdom ever could Raise up defences against floods of sorrow
60 That haste to overwhelm you, make true use of Your great discretion.
Second Servant. Your only son
65 To press into it for his apprehension.
Guiomar (sinking into a chair). Oh !
Stand off : My sorrow is so dear and precious to me That you must not partake it; suffer it, Like wounds that do bleed inward, to dispatch me. 70 (A side.] O my Duarte, such an end as this Thy pride long since did prophesy. Thou art dead; And, to increase my misery, thy sad mother Must make a wilful shipwreck of her vow, Or thou fall unavenged. My soul 's divided ; 75 And piety to a son and true performance Of hospitable duties to my guest, That are to others angels, are my Furies : Vengeance knocks at my heart, but my word given Denies the entrance. Is no medium left
80 But that I must protect the murderer Or suffer in that faith he made his altar ? Motherly love, give place; the fault, made this way, To keep a vow to which high heaven is witness, Heaven may be pleased to pardon.
Enter Manuel du Sosa, Doctors, and Surgeons.
'Tis too late.
Oh, forbear! Search for the murderer, and remove the body And, as you think fit, give it burial.
90 Wretch that I am, uncapable of all comfort ! And therefore I entreat my friends and kinsfolk And you, my lord, for some space to forbear Your courteous visitations. Manuel.
We obey you [They all leave her and take away the body. Rutilio [aside]. My spirits come back and now despair resigns
95 Her place again to hope. Guiomar.
Whate'er thou art To whom I have given means of life, to witness With what religion I have kept my promise, Come fearless forth : but let thy face be covered That I hereafter be not forced to know thee ; For motherly affection may return, My vow once paid to heaven. [Rutilio comes forth with
his face covered.] Thou hast taken from me The respiration of my heart, the light Of my swoln eyes, in his life that sustained me : Yet my word given to save you I make good, 105 Because what you did was not done with malice. You are not known; there is no mark about you That can discover you ; let not fear betray you : With all convenient speed you can, ily from me, That I may never see you; and that want Of means may be no let unto your journey, There are a hundred crowns. [She gives him a purse.] You
are at the door now, And so, farewell for ever. Rutilio [kneeling]
Let me first fall Before your feet and on them pay the duty I owe your goodness : next, all blessings to you, 115 And heaven restore the joys I have bereft you With full increase hereafter ! (He rises.] Living, be The goddess styled of hospitality! [Ēxeunt severally.
XV. ANTONIO AND SHYLOCK
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
SCENE I. THE SECOND ARROW.
Antonio is a rich merchant in the city of Venice, which was
once one of the great trading cities of the world. He is one of the most generous of men, never weary of doing his friends a kindness, lending without interest to those who are in difficulty, and spending large sums in relieving
poor debtors. His greatest friend is Bassanio, a soldier and scholar,
frank and open, but careless of his money and heavily in
debt. The scene is a street in Venice.
Enter Antonio and Bassanio.
Antonio. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honour, be assured, My purse, my person, my extremest means, 15 Lie all unlocked to your occasións.
Bassanio. In my schooldays, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the self-same flight The selfsame way with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by adventuring both, 20