Classic Poem

SCENE VIII. — Before the Main Gate of Dunley Tower Parties go fighting over the ground .

Enter Lord W OLD and Lord D UNLEY , meeting

W OLD . The man I seek!
D UN . Aha! Sir Bridegroom here?
We fear he's somewhat late
W OLD . The murdered blood,
And virgin's wrongs sit heavy on thy soul,
And cramp thy arm!
D UN . Thy sword to thy curse, and I
Defy them both.
D UN . Oh! am I slain by thee! Zebra — remember — —

Enter M OUNTNORRIS .

W OLD . Well met, my friend! How speed we? I have spent
Too much o' my general care on this one point.
M OUNT . We've cleared the camp o' them. But I've restrained;
Our men from rash pursuit. Now that the foe
Have lost their chief, they'll scarce come back on us.
Yet must we stand prepared. I'll see this done.
And now, my Lord, I should have told you first, —
Dunley Tower's in our hands. The Lady's there.
W OLD . Hold your men ready. We go back to Wold.
Is yon the dawn?
M OUNT . Not yet. You're hurt, my Lord?
You bleed so.
W OLD . Where? My arm? Why, what a gash!
Come to this tent, and bind it up for me.
I must not lose blood: I must run no risk
Of not being back at Wold by break of day.