Fer. I am.

St. Pier. Wilt lock it?

Fer. [Locking it and returning.] There!
St. Pier. [Springing upon him.] Villain!
Fer. What means this violence?

St. Pier. You struck me

When I contended with the recreants,

That smite this moment what the one before

They fawned upon!-Across their arms you struck
And felled me with the blow!-now take it back!
Fer. Stop! you'll repent it if you strike!
St. Pier. I tell thee,

I ne'er received a blow from mortal man

But I did pay it back with interest!-One by one
I have parted with those virtues of a man
Which precept doth inculcate; but one grace
Remains the growth of nature-the true shoot
Abuse could not eradicate, and leave

The trunk and root alive,-one virtue-manhood!
The brow whereon doth sit disdain of threat,
Defiance of aggression, and revenge

For contumely. You did strike me! Come!
I must have blow for blow!

Fer. [Drawing his dagger.] Let fall thy hand
Upon my person-lo, my dagger's free,

And I will sheathe it in thy heart!

St. Pier. I care not,

So I die quits with thee!

Fer. I would not kill thee,

So don't advance thy hand! Nay, listen first,
And then, if thou wilt, strike me!-Strike!-abuse

Thy friend, who, when he struck thee, was thy friend
As much as he is now, or ever was:

Who struck thee but that he should seem thy foe,
To hide indeed how much he was thy friend.

St. Pier. How came I yesternight

To sleep in the chamber of the duke? And why
This morning, when I left the ante-room,

Was I assaulted by thy minions?

Fer. Pshaw!

Enough, thou slept'st where thou didst sleep, next chamber To the duke's wife, and thereby mad'st thy fortune.

For every ducat of the sum I named

Is thine-but render me one service more.

St. Pier. Name it.

Fer. Just write for me, in boasting vein, Confession thou did'st pillow yesternight There, where the honor of the duke forbids That head save his should lie.

Why do you gaze? 'Tis easily done.

St. Pier. It is.

Fer. It takes but pen and ink, and here they are; Make use of time! the hour that is not used Is lost, and might have been the luckiest, Converted to account: what ponder'st thou? St. Pier. [Writing.] Have you done? Fer. I have.

St. Pier. And so

Have I-a fair commencement! better far
Continuation! and the winding up

The fairest of the whole! howsoe'er of that
Your highness shall be judge:-'sdeath, here's a word
I did not mean to write, for one I wanted!

I needs must take it out.-I pray your highness
Lend me a knife.

Fer. I have not one.

St. Pier. Well, then,

Your dagger-if the edge of it is sharp.

Fer. There 'tis.

St. Pier. And there is the confession, duke,

I'm something of a clerk-I hardly hoped

It would have pleased your highness! My lord duke Sign the confession.

Fer. Why?

St. Pier. It pleases me.

If that contents thee not, I'm in thy power,

And I'd have thee in mine! Your highness sees

I am frank with you.

Fer. Can it be you, St. Pierre?

St. Pier. No-it is you!-and not the peasant lad,

Whom fifteen years ago in evil hour

You chanced to cross upon his native hills,

In whose quick eye you saw the subtile spirit
Which suited you, and tempted it; who took
Your hint, and followed you to Mantua
Without his father's knowledge-his old father
Who, thinking that he had a prop in him

Man could not rob him of, and Heaven would spare,
Blessed him one night, ere he laid down to sleep,
And waking in the morning found him gone!

[FERRARDO attempts to rise.] Move not, or I shall move- -you know me! Fer. Nay,

I'll keep my seat. St. Pierre, I trained thee like
A cavalier!

St. Pier. You did-you gave me masters,
And their instructions quickly I took up

As they did lay them down! I got the start

Of my contemporaries!-not a youth

Of whom could read, write, speak, command a weapon,
Or rule a horse with me! you gave me all-

All the equipments of a man of honor,——

But you did find a use for me, and made
A slave, a profligate of me.

I charge you, keep your seat!
Fer. You see I do!

[FERRARDO about to rise.]

St. Pierre, be reasonable!-you forget
There are ten thousand ducats.

St. Pier. Give me, duke,

The eyes that looked upon my father's face!
The hands that helped my father to his wish!
The feet that flew to do my father's will!
The heart that bounded at my father's voice!
And say that Mantua were built of ducats,
And I could be its duke at cost of these,

I would not give them for it! Mark me, duke!

I saw a new-made grave in Mantua,

And on the head-stone read my father's name ;—
To seek me, doubtless, hither he had come--

To seek the child that had deserted him-

And died here,—ere he found me.

Heaven can tell how far he wandered else!

Upon that grave I knelt an altered man,

And rising thence, I fled from Mantua. Nor had returned But tyrant hunger drove me back again

To thee-to thee!--My body to relieve

At cost of my dear soul! I have done thy work,
Do mine! and sign me that confession straight.
I'm in your power, and I'll have thee in mine!
Fer. Art thou indeed in earnest!

St. Pier. Look in my eyes.

Fer. Saint Pierre, perhaps I have underpaid thee?
St. Pier. Sign!

Fer. I'll double the amount!

St. Pier. Come, sign!

Fer. Saint Pierre,

Will forty thousand ducats please thee?

St. Pier. There's

The dial, and the sun is shining on it-
The shadow is on the very point of twelve-
My case is desperate! Your signature
Of vital moment is unto my peace!
My eye is on the dial! Pass the shadow
The point of noon, the breadth of but a hair
As can my eye discern-and, that unsigned,
The steel is in thy heart-I speak no more!
Fer. Saint Pierre !--Not speak?—Saint Pierre !
St. Pier. Is it signed?

Fer. [Writing hurriedly.] It is!

Ex. CCXLV.-THIRD SCENE FROM ION.

ION, AGENOR, PHOCION.

TALFOURD.

[ION forgives PHOCION's attempt to assassinate him.]

Enter ION and AGENOR.

Agen. Wilt thou not in to rest?

Ion. My rest is here

Beneath the greatness of the heavens, which awes
My spirit, tossed by sudden change, and torn
By various passions, to repose. Yet age

Requires more genial nourishment-pray seek it—
I will but stay thee to inquire once more
If any symptom of returning health

Bless the wan city?

Agen. No: the perishing

Lift up

their painful heads to bless thy name,

And their eyes kindle as they utter it;

But still they perish.

Ion. So!-give instant order,

The rites which shall confirm me in my throne,
Be solemnized to-morrow.

Agen. How! so soon,

While the more sacred duties to the dead
Remain unpaid?

Ion. Let them abide my time

They will not tarry long. I see them gaze
With wonder on me- -do my bidding now,
And trust me till to-morrow. Pray go in,

The night will chill thee else.
Agen. Farewell, my lord!

Ion. Now all is stillness in my breast-how soon
To be displaced by more profound repose,

In which no thread of consciousness shall live
To feel how calm it is!-O lamp serene,
Do I lift up to thee undazzled eyes
For the last time? Shall I enjoy no more
Thy golden haziness, which seemed akin
To my young fortune's dim felicity?
And when it coldly shall embrace the urn
That shall contain my ashes, will no thought
Of all the sweet ones cherished by thy beams,
Awake to tremble with them? Vain regret!
The pathway of my duty lies in sunlight.
And I would tread it with as firm a step,
Though it should terminate in cold oblivion,
As if Elysian pleasures at its close

Gleamed palpable to sight as things of earth.
Who
passes there?

| Exit.]

[Enter PHOCION, who strikes at Iox with a dagger.] Pho. This to the king of Argos! [ION struggles with him, siezes the dagger, which he throws away.]

Ion. I will not fall by thee, poor wavering novice In the assassin's trade!-thy arm is feeble.

[He confronts PHOCION.] Phocion!-Was this well aimed? thou didst not mean

Pho. I meant to take thy life, urged by remembrance Of yesterday's great vow.

Ion. And couldst thou think

I had forgotten?