CASHEL. Murder! I would I had. Yon cannibal Hath forty thousand lives; and I have ta'en But thousands thirty-nine. I tell thee, Lydia, On the impenetrable sarcolobe That holds his seedling brain these fists have pounded By Shrewsb'ry clock an hour. This bruised grass And caked mud adhering to my form I have acquired in rolling on the sod Clinched in his grip. This scanty reefer coat For decency snatched up as fast I fled When the police arrived, belongs to Mellish. 'Tis all too short; hence my display of rib And forearm mother-naked. Be not wroth Because I seem to wink at you: by Heaven, 'Twas Paradise that plugged me in the eye Which I perforce keep closing. Pity me, My training wasted and my blows unpaid, Sans stakes, sans victory, sans everything I had hoped to win. Oh, I could sit me down And weep for bitterness. LYDIA. Thou wretch, begone. CASHEL. Begone! LYDIA. I say begone. Oh, tiger's heart Wrapped in a young man's hide, canst thou not live In love with Nature and at peace with Man? Must thou, although thy hands were never made To blacken others' eyes, still batter at The image of Divinity? I loathe thee. Hence from my house and never see me more. CASHEL. I go. The meanest lad on thy estate Would not betray me thus. But 'tis no matter. [_He opens the door._ Ha! the police. I'm lost. [_He shuts the door again._ Now shalt thou see My last fight fought. Exhausted as I am, To capture me will cost the coppers dear. Come one, come all! LYDIA. Oh, hide thee, I implore: I cannot see thee hunted down like this. There is my room. Conceal thyself therein. Quick, I command. [_He goes into the room._ With horror I foresee, Lydia, that never lied, must lie for thee. _Enter_ POLICEMAN, _with_ PARADISE _and_ MELLISH _in custody_, BASHVILLE, _constable_s, _and others_ POLICEMAN. Keep back your bruised prisoner lest he shock This wellbred lady's nerves. Your pardon, ma'am; But have you seen by chance the other one? In this direction he was seen to run. LYDIA. A man came here anon with bloody hands And aspect that did turn my soul to snow. POLICEMAN. 'Twas he. What said he? LYDIA. Begged for sanctuary. I bade the man begone. POLICEMAN. Most properly. Saw you which way he went? LYDIA. I cannot tell. PARADISE. He seen me coming; and he done a bunk. POLICEMAN. Peace, there. Excuse his damaged features, lady: He's Paradise; and this one's Byron's trainer, Mellish.