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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.
Guiomar. He's not i' the house ?
Servants.

No, madam.
Guiomar.

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

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me ?

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I am got into a house ; the doors all open ;
This, by the largeness of the room, the hangings,
And other rich adornments glistering through
The sable mask of night, says it belongs
To one of means and rank. No servant stirring ?

Murmur nor whisper?
Guiomar.

Who's that ?
Rutilio [aside].

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.

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Your house is now my sanctuary; and the altar
I gladly would take hold of, your sweet mercy.
By all that 's dear unto you, by your virtues
And by your innocence that needs no forgiveness,
Take pity on me.

Guiomar. Are you a Castilian ?
Rutilio. No, madam ; Italy claims my birth.
Guiomar.

I ask not
With purpose to betray you; if you were
Ten thousand times a Spaniard, the nation
We Portugals most hate, I yet would save you,
If it lay in my power. Lift up these hangings; 45
Behind my bed's head there's a hollow place,
Into which enter. [Rutilio conceals himself ] So; but from

this stir not:
If the officers come, as you expect they will do,
I know they owe such reverence to my lodgings
That they will easily give credit to me
And search no further.
Rutilio.

The blest saints pay for me The infinite debt I owe you !

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Guiomar [aside].

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
My Lord Duarte 's slain.
First Officer.

His murderer,
Pursued by us, was by a boy discovered
Entering your house, and that induced us

65 To press into it for his apprehension.

Guiomar (sinking into a chair). Oh !
First Servant. Sure her heart is broke.
Officer

Madam!
Guiomar.

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.

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Enter Manuel du Sosa, Doctors, and Surgeons.
Manuel.

'Tis too late.
He's gone, past all recovery : now my reproof
Were but unseasonable when I should give comfort ;
And yet remember, sister-
Guiomar.

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.

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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.
Bassanio. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate ;
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged
From such a noble rate ; but my chief care
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts,

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Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,
I owe the most, in money and in love ;
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburthen all my plots and purposes
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

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

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