_Vic._ Oh shame! oh shame! Why do I walk abroad By daylight, when the very sunshine mocks me, And voices, and familiar sights and sounds Cry hide thyself! O what a thin partition Doth shut out from the curious world the knowledge Of evil deeds that have been done in darkness. Disgrace has many tongues. My fears are windows Through which all eyes seem gazing. Every face Expresses some suspicion of my shame, And in derision seems to smile at me! _Hyp._ Did I not caution thee? Did I not tell thee I was but half persuaded of her virtue? _Vic._ And yet, Hypolito, we may be wrong, We may be over-hasty in condemning! The Count of Lara is a damnéd villain. _Hyp._ And therefore is she damnéd, loving him. _Vic._ She does not love him! ’Tis for gold—for gold! _Hyp._ Aye, but remember, in the public streets He shows a golden ring the gipsy gave him, A serpent with a ruby in its mouth. _Vic._ She had that ring from me! God! she is false! But I will be revenged! The hour is passed. Where stays the coward? _Hyp._ Nay, he is no coward; A villain, if thou will, but not a coward. I’ve seen him play with swords: it is his pastime. And therefore be not over-confident, He’ll task thy skill anon. Look, here he comes. (_Enter Lara, followed by Francisco._) _Lara._ Good evening, gentlemen. _Hyp._ Good evening, count. _Lara._ I trust I have not kept you long in waiting? _Vic._ Not long, and yet too long. Are you prepared? _Lara._ I am. _Hyp._ It grieves me much to see this quarrel Between you, gentlemen. Is there no way Left open to accord this difference, But you must make one with your swords? _Vic._ None! none! I do intreat thee, dear Hypolito, Stand not between me and my foe. Too long Our tongues have spoken. Let these tongues of steel End our debate. Upon your guard, Sir Count! (_They fight. Victorian disarms the Count._) _Vic._ Your life is mine; and what shall now withhold me From sending your vile soul to its account? _Lara._ Strike! strike! _Vic._ You are disarmed. I will not kill you! I will not murder you. Take up your sword. (_Francisco hands the Count his sword, and Hypolito interposes._)