BASHVILLE. He would not take my answer; thrust the door Back in my face; gave me the lie i' the throat; Averred he felt your presence in his bones. I said he should feel mine there too, and felled him; Then fled to bar your door. LYDIA. O lover's instinct! He felt my presence. Well, let him come in. We must not fail in courage with a fighter. Unlock the door. LUCIAN. Stop. Like all women, Lydia, You have the courage of immunity. To strike _you_ were against his code of honor; But _me_, above the belt, he may perform on T' th' height of his profession. Also Bashville. BASHVILLE. Think not of me, sir. Let him do his worst. Oh, if the valor of my heart could weigh The fatal difference twixt his weight and mine, A second battle should he do this day: Nay, though outmatched I be, let but my mistress Give me the word: instant I'll take him on Here--now--at catchweight. Better bite the carpet A man, than fly, a coward. LUCIAN. Bravely said: I will assist you with the poker. LYDIA. No: I will not have him touched. Open the door. BASHVILLE. Destruction knocks thereat. I smile, and open. [BASHVILLE _opens the door_. _Dead silence._ CASHEL _enters, in tears_. _A solemn pause._ CASHEL. You know my secret? LYDIA. Yes. CASHEL. And thereupon You bade your servant fling me from your door. LYDIA. I bade my servant say I was not here. CASHEL [_to_ BASHVILLE]. Why didst thou better thy instruction, man? Hadst thou but said, "She bade me tell thee this," Thoudst burst my heart. I thank thee for thy mercy. LYDIA. Oh, Lucian, didst thou call him "drunk with slaughter"? Canst thou refrain from weeping at his woe? CASHEL [_to_ LUCIAN]. The unwritten law that shields the amateur Against professional resentment, saves thee. O coward, to traduce behind their backs Defenceless prizefighters! LUCIAN. Thou dost avow Thou art a prizefighter. CASHEL. It was my glory. I had hoped to offer to my lady there My belts, my championships, my heaped-up stakes, My undefeated record; but I knew Behind their blaze a hateful secret lurked. LYDIA. Another secret? LUCIAN. Is there worse to come? CASHEL. Know ye not then my mother is an actress? LUCIAN. How horrible! LYDIA. Nay, nay: how interesting! CASHEL. A thousand victories cannot wipe out That birthstain. Oh, my speech bewrayeth it: My earliest lesson was the player's speech In Hamlet; and to this day I express myself More like a mobled queen than like a man Of flesh and blood. Well may your cousin sneer! What's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba?