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Enter Baldazzar. Baldazzar. That knowing no cause of quarrel or of
feud Between the Earl Politian and himself, He doth decline your cartel.
Pol. What didst thou say?
Bal. That he, Castiglione, not being aware
Pol. It is most true
When saw you, sir,
Bal. No more, my lord, than I have told you, sir :
Pol. Now this is true
Unto this man, that I, the Earl of Leicester,
friend Fol. (aside). 'Tis he- he comes himself! (Aloud.)
Thou reasonest well.
not send the message Well! — I will think of it - I will not send it. Now prithee, leave me
- hither doth come a person
to-morrow we meet,
Enter Castiglione. Cas. The Earl of Leicester here !
Pol. I am the Earl of Leicester, and thou seest,
Cas. My lord, some strange,
Having given thee no offence. Ha!-- am I right?
Pol. Draw, villain, and prate no more !
Proud Earl ! (Draws.)
Pol (drawing). Thus to the expiatory tomb,
of the stage).
Pol. Thou wilt not fight with me didst say, Sir Count?
Cas. I dare not dare not
Pol. Now by my halidom
Cas. Ha! — coward ! this may not be !
his purpose is changed before reaching him, and he
Alas! my lord,
Cas. It needeth not be - thus - thus - O let me die Thus on my bended knee. It were most fitting That in this deep humiliation I perish. For in the fight I will not raise a hand Against thee, Earl of Leicester. Strike thou home
(baring his bosom). Here is no let or hinderance to thy weapon Strike home. I will not fight thee.
Fol. Now s'Death and Hell ! Am I not — am I not sorely – grievously tempted To take thee at thy word ? But mark me, sir : Think not to fly me thus. Do thou prepare For public insult in the streets - before The eyes of the citizens. I'll follow thee Like an avenging spirit I'll follow thee Even unto deaih. Before those whoin thou lovest Before all Rome I'll taunt thee, villain -I'll taunt thee, Dost hear? with cowardice — thou wilt not fight me? Thou liest! thou shalt !
(Exit.) Cas. Now this indeed is just ! Most righteous, and most just, avenging Heaven.
POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.*
SONNET – TO SCIENCE.
CIENCE! true daughter of Old Time thou art !
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing ? Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood, The Elfin from the green grass, and from me The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
* Private reasons — some of which have reference to the sin of plagiarism, and others to the date of Tennyson's first poems — have induced me, after some hesitation, to rcpublish these, the crude compositions of my carliest boyhood. They are printed verbatim, without alteration from the original edition, the date of which is too remote to be judiciously acknowledged.
E. A. P.