Classic Poem

SCENE IV.

Enter Tibalt.

Where shall I hide my ignominious Head?
I hate the Light, and cannot bear myself.
— Curse on the Weakness which betray'd my Virtue.
How am I fall'n from Honour! O my Soul —
And how become the Instrument of Hell,
To murder Innocence which never wrong'd me!
— Drawn by a Woman to forego my Faith
To worthy Ulfinore — to mingle Poison
Ev'n for my General's Bride! — Rejoice, Prometheus ;
Thy Vulture will be mine; my Guilt is blacker:
Thy Crime was only stealing Heav'nly Fire,
Which mine extinguishes , in murd'ring Birtha ,
Form'd of Celestial Beams! — Earth groans beneath me:
Hell, Hell, I feel Thee Here. — Ha, Ulfinore?
I'd rather meet Alecto with her Whips,
Than my offended Friend. — Gape, Earth, and hide me.

Enter Ulfinore.

U LFINORE .

'Twas He, the Wretch! — Now aid me, Heav'n and Justice!
Far as the flaming Limits of the World
I'll follow Thee, or punish thy Transgression, —
The Center shall not hide thee from my Arm,
While Vengeance whets my Sword and Justice guides it.