Fight without guns, and spearless, to the death. Let them be brought. LUCIAN. They fight not to the death, But under strictest rules: as, for example, Half of their persons shall not be attacked; Nor shall they suffer blows when they fall down, Nor stroke of foot at any time. And, further, That frequent opportunities of rest With succor and refreshment be secured them. CETEWAYO. Ye gods, what cowards! Zululand, my Zululand: Personified Pusillanimity Hath ta'en thee from the bravest of the brave! LUCIAN. Lo, the rude savage whose untutored mind Cannot perceive self-evidence, and doubts That Brave and English mean the self-same thing! CETEWAYO. Well, well, produce these heroes. I surmise They will be carried by their nurses, lest Some barking dog or bumbling bee should scare them. CETEWAYO _takes his state_. _Enter_ PARADISE LYDIA. What hateful wretch is this whose mighty thews Presage destruction to his adversaries? LORD WORTHINGTON. 'Tis Paradise. LYDIA. He of whom Cashel spoke? A dreadful thought ices my heart. Oh, why Did Cashel leave us at the door? _Enter_ CASHEL LORD WORTHINGTON. Behold! The champion comes. LYDIA. Oh, I could kiss him now, Here, before all the world. His boxing things Render him most attractive. But I fear Yon villain's fists may maul him. WORTHINGTON. Have no fear. Hark! the king speaks. CETEWAYO. Ye sons of the white queen: Tell me your names and deeds ere ye fall to. PARADISE. Your royal highness, you beholds a bloke What gets his living honest by his fists. I may not have the polish of some toffs As I could mention on; but up to now No man has took my number down. I scale Close on twelve stun; my age is twenty-three; And at Bill Richardson's Blue Anchor pub Am to be heard of any day by such As likes the job. I don't know, governor, As ennythink remains for me to say. CETEWAYO. Six wives and thirty oxen shalt thou have If on the sand thou leave thy foeman dead. Methinks he looks scornfully on thee. [_To_ CASHEL] Ha! dost thou not so? CASHEL. Sir, I do beseech you To name the bone, or limb, or special place Where you would have me hit him with this fist. CETEWAYO. Thou hast a noble brow; but much I fear Thine adversary will disfigure it. CASHEL. There's a divinity that shapes our ends Rough hew them how we will. Give me the gloves. THE MASTER OF THE REVELS. Paradise, a professor. Cashel Byron, Also professor. Time! [_They spar._ LYDIA. Eternity It seems to me until this fight be done.