Give me back the light of mine eyes,
Mine only daughter!
My only one! He hurled her over the cliffs!
Avenge me, lads; you are young!
4th Voice. We will, we will: why smit'st him not, thou with the
pole-axe?
3d Voice. Nay, now, the first blow costs most, and heals last;
Besides, the dog's a priest at worst.
C. Saym. Mass! How the shaveling rascal stands at bay!
There's not a rogue of them dare face his eye!
True Domini canes! 'Ware the bloodhound's teeth, curs!
Preacher. What! Are ye afraid? The huntsman's here at last
Without his whip! Down with him, craven hounds!
I'll help ye to't. [Springs from the stone.]
Gent. Ay, down with him! Mass, have these yelping boors
More heart than I? [Spurs his horse forward.]
Mob. A knight! a champion!
Voice. He's not mortal man!
See how his eyes shine! 'Tis the archangel!
St. Michael come to the rescue! Ho! St. Michael!
[He lunges at Conrad. Gerard turns the lance aside, and throws his
arms round Conrad.]
Ger. My master! my master! The chariot of Israel and the horses
thereof!
Oh call down fire from Heaven!
[A peasant strikes down Gerard.
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