210 A DRAMATIC SKETCH. 



Fran. — Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! a renegade, eh ? 

 I might have wrought the kindness you implore, 

 But that to do such kindness to the worm 

 Who calls me renegade to my face. 

 Sot, were to cheat myself, and rob revenge. 

 A renegade, eh ? presumptuous thing ! 

 Thy sire's disgrace, thou image of his groom ! 



Clan. — What Moor begat thee, renegade ! that thou, 

 Tho' fathered by a Christian, prov'st a Moor ? 



Fran. — Hurry him hence, or he will drive me mad. 

 And so extort the kindness that he craves ; 

 Heap chains on chains to crush his spirit down. 

 And goad him hourly how his parents feel. 

 Bestow him safely — you respect your lives ! 



{Exeunt Guards with Claudio. The Chiefs and others following. 

 Francisco comes forward in disorder, and soliloquises.) 

 Breath, breath, proud spirit ! breath, — nor choke me quite : 

 Down, swelling passion ! down, — and leave, for shame, 

 A conqueror's soul unconquered of a boy ! {With contempt.) 

 The plagues of Egypt settle on her head, 

 This witch, this prophetess, that dogg'd our march, 

 Like a demoniac starting from the tombs ! 

 What fatal inspiration sent her forth 

 To hail our landing with the croak of doom ? 

 " When thou art bearded by a Christian youth. 

 And call'd a renegade to thy face — 

 Then, lost Francisco ! then," the maniac cried. 

 Calamity impends — defeat, and death ! 

 'Tis singular as fate — now, like a knell, 

 That braggart's taunts are ringing in mine ears. 

 What boot my honours, my most high estate. 

 My faith abjur'd, and fortune, for the change. 

 If this rash boy has summ'd my lease of days. 

 And cut me short of paradise on earth ? — (Muses ) 

 Last night the moon glar'd fearfully and strange. 

 Belted around with circles of pale light, 

 Breadth unto breadth succeeding — and the stars 

 Made signals through the void — great Nature seem'd 

 Electrical with portent ; on my mind. 

 Crowding prognostication and dire thought ! 

 But come what may, come whatsoever can — 

 All ills in life, or woes beyond the grave — 

 The die is cast, and I must on — on — on ! 

 Out, chill foreboding ! Terror- shaking qualms ! 

 Decision's blight — Ambition ! thou alone 

 Fill up the mighty compass of my soul ! 

 Form me a perfect renegade in this. 

 To stand absolv'd of every human tie. 

 And be stone-dead to pity or remorse. 

 Avaunt ! away ! imeasy whispers, hence ! 

 Blood me cry— be greatness my reward ! 



(Exit in & transport of €i;gitment.) 



