Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/406

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OTHO THE GREAT.
Like crannied vermin,—no! but fresh, and young,And hopeful featured. Ha! by Heaven you weep!Tears, human tears! Do you repent you thenOf a curs'd torturer's office? Why shouldst join,—Tell me,—the league of devils? Confess—confess—The lie!
 Gersa. Lie!—but begone all ceremonious pointsOf honor battailous! I could not turnMy wrath against thee for the orbed world.
 Ludolph. Your wrath weak boy? Tremble at mine, unlessRetraction follow close upon the heelsOf that late stounding insult! Why has my swordNot done already a sheer judgment on thee?Despair, or eat thy words! Why, thou wast nighWhimpering away my reason! Hark'e, sir,It is no secret, that Erminia,Erminia, sir, was hidden in your tent,—O bless'd asylum! Comfortable home!Begone! I pity thee; thou art a gull,Erminia's last new puppet!
 Gersa. Furious fire!Thou mak'st me boil as hot as thou canst flame!And in thy teeth I give thee back the lie!Thou liest! Thou, Auranthe's fool! A wittol!
 Ludolph. Look! look at this bright sword;There is no part of it, to the very hilt,But shall indulge itself about thine heart!Draw! but remember thou must cower thy plumes,As yesterday the Arab made thee stoop.
 Gersa. Patience! Not here; I would not spill thy blood
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