My son and keep in mind that I can shoot. -go. My bow! Ges. Give him a single arrow. [Sarnem gives the bow, and Verner retires with Albert.] [To an attendant.] Tell. Is 't so you pick an arrow, friend? That's all the use 't is fit for ! Ges. Let him have another. [Breaks it.] [Tell examines it.] Tell. Why, 't is better than the first, But yet not good enough for such an aim As I'm to take. 'Tis heavy in the shaft: I'll not shoot with it! [Throws it away.] Let me see my quiver! Bring it! 'Tis not one arrow in a dozen I'd take to shoot with at a dove, much less A dove like that! Ges. It matters not. Show him the quiver. [Tell kneels, and while picking out an arrow, conceals one under his garment.] Tell. See if the boy is ready. Ver. He is. Tell. I'm ready too!- Keep silence, for [to the people] Heaven's sake! and do not stir. And let me have Your prayers—your prayers! — and be my witness, That if his life's in peril from my hand, 'Tis only for the chance of saving it. Now, friends, for mercy's sake, keep motionless And silent! [Tell shoots; in a moment after, Verner, with the apple on the arrow's point, comes in, leading Albert.] Ver. Thy boy is safe! no hair of him is touched! Alb. Father, I'm safe! your Albert's safe! Dear father, [Albert opens his father's vest, and an arrow drops: Tell starts, fixes his eyes on Albert, and exclaims,] Tell. My boy! my boy! Ges. For what Hid you that arrow in your breast? Speak, slave! Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy! Liberty Would, at thy downfall, shout from every peak! COWARDICE AND BOASTING. W. SHAKSPEARE. [Enter Falstaff.] P. Henry. Welcome, Jack! Where hast thou been? Falstaff. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too!-marry and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy! Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether socks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue! Is there no virtue extant ? [He drinks.] P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter?-pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun?-if thou didst, then behold that compound. Fal. You rogue! here 's lime in this sack, too! There is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man. Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime it a villanous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack! die when thou wilt; if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring! There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old. God help the while! —a bad world, I say! I would I were a weaver; I could sing all manner of songs. A plague of all cowards, I say still! P. Hen. How now, wool-sack? - what mutter you ? Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects before thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more! You Prince of Wales! P. Hen. Why! — what's the matter? answer me to that! P. Hen. If ye call me coward, I'll stab thee! Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee hanged ere I call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders; you care not who sees your back. Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing!—give me them that will face me! P. Hen. What's the matter? Fal. What's the matter?-here be four of us have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? where is it? Fal. Where is it? - taken from us, it is; a hundred upon four of us. P. Hen. What! a hundred, man? Fal. I am a rogue if I were not at half sword with a dozen of them two hours together! I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler cut through and through, my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce signum! I never dealt better since I was a man. All would not do. A plague of all cowards! P. Hen. Speak, sir Jack, how was it? Fal. We four set upon some dozen-and bound them every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew; and, as we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us, and unbound the rest, and then came in the others. P. Hen. What! fought you with them all? Fal. All? I know not what you call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish! if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged creature ! P. Hen. I pray Heaven, you have not murdered some of them. Fal. Nay, that's past praying for! I have peppered two of them; two, I'm sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram suits! I tell thee what, Hal-if I tell thee a lie, call me a horse! Thou knowest my old ward; here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me P. Hen. What! four? thou saidst but two even now. Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee four. These four came allafront, and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus. P. Hen. Seven!—why, there were but four, even now! Fal. In buckram? P. Hen. Ay, four in buckram suits. Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else! Dost thou hear me, Hal? P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee, too, Jack. Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram that I told thee of P. Hen. So, two more already! Fal. Their points being broken, they began to give me ground. But I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid. P. Hen. O monstrous ! - eleven buckram men grown out of two! Fal. But, as it happened, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back, and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand! P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable! Why, thou clay-brained, knotty-pated fool! thou tallow-keech! Fal. What! art thou mad? art thou mad?. - is not the truth the truth? P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason! What sayest thou to this? Fal. What! upon compulsion? No; were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion! Give you a reason on compulsion!--if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion! I P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. Thou sanguine coward! thou horse-back-breaker! thou huge hill of flesh! Fal. Away, you starveling! you elf-skin! you dried neats' tongue! you stock-fish! O, for breath to utter what is like thee!—you tailor's yard! you bow-case! you vile standing tuck! P. Hen. Well, breathe a while, and then to it again; and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this. Poins and I saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth. Mark, now, how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four; and, with a word, outfaced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house; and, Falstaff, you carried your mountain sides away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard a calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword, as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight! What trick, what device, what starting hole, canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame ? ter; Fal. Ha, ha, ha! I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why, hear me, my master. Was it for me to kill the heir apparent? should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou know'st I am as valiant as Hercules; but beware instinct! the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matI was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better on myself, and thee, during my life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap to the doors! watch to-night, pray tomorrow! Gallants! lads! boys! hearts of gold! all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What! shall we be merry? shall we have a play extempore? 1 P. Hen. Content; and the argument shall be thy running away. Fal. Ah no more of that, Hal, an thou lov'st me! THE INDIAN'S WRONGS. N. T. MONROE. ONTARIA, an Indian chief. | UONO, a young Indian woman. SCENE: The shore of a lake, surrounded by deep woods. Ontaria standing beneath an aged oak, his tomahawk, bow and arrows, lying neglected at his feet. Ontaria. My father's land hath felt the white man's tread; His step hath echoed on our hunting-grounds, And scared the wild deer from his forest home. curse, Let it feed Upon his heart, till it shall gain new strength To revel in the bosoms of his sons! And may he die unhonored, and his bones. Lie whitening on the plains which once were ours' [Enter Uono.] Uono. Why stands Ontaria thus in solitude? Ont. Ontaria sought for food, But found it not. The hunter now may roam The forest paths, and not a single deer |