CLARIN. Well, except to run away,
I am anything but nimble;--
Truly a retiring person.
MOSCON and CLARIN. Sir . . . .
CYPRIAN. No more: your gabble irks me.--
How? What's this? Two noble friends,
Who in blood, in birth, in lineage,
Are to-day of Antioch all
Its expectancy, the city's
Eye of fashion, one the son
Of the Governor, of the princely
House Colalto, one the heir,
Thus to peril, as of little
Value, two such precious lives
To their country and their kindred?
LELIUS. Cyprian, although respect
Which on many grounds I give thee,
Holds my sword suspended thus
In due deference for an instant,--
To the scabbard's calm repose
It hath got no power to win it.
Thou of science knowest more,
Than the duel, pretermitting
This, that when two nobles meet
In the field, no power can link them
Friends again, save this, that one
Must his life give as a victim.
FLORUS. This I also say, and ask thee,
With thy people, that thou quittest,
Leaving us to end our quarrel
Without any help or hindrance.
CYPRIAN. Though it seems to you my calling
Makes me know the laws but little
Of the duel -- that strict code
Valour and vain pride have written,
You are wrong, for I was born
With the obligations fitting
Rank like yours, to know in truth
Infamy and honour's limits.
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