Replies

Romneyo and Giuliana, Redux

OBAMA
Romney, the hate I bear thee can afford
No better term than this,—thou art a villain.

ROMNEYO
Obama, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting: villain am I none;
Therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me not.

OBAMA
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.

ROMNEYO
I do protest, I never injured thee,
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
And so, good Obama,—which name I tender
As dearly as my own,—be satisfied.

CONSERVATO
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla stoccata carries it away.

Draws

Obama, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

OBAMA
What wouldst thou have with me?

CONSERVATO
Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine
lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you
shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the
eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher
by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your
ears ere it be out.

OBAMA
I am for you. (ed. note “I had best not break a nail.”)

Drawing

ROMNEYO
Gentle Conservato, put thy rapier up. (ed. note “I care not for this business of nail-breaking.”)

CONSERVATO
Come, sir, your passado.

They fight

ROMNEYO
Draw, Bohnero; beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
Obama, Conservato, the prince expressly hath
Forbidden bandying in the streets:
Hold, Obama! good Conservato!

OBAMA under ROMNEYO’s arm stabs CONSERVATO, and flies with his followers

CONSERVATO
I am hurt.
A plague o’ both your houses! I am sped.
Is he gone, and hath nothing?

BOHNERO
What, art thou hurt?

CONSERVATO
Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, ‘tis enough.
Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
Exit Page

ROMNEYO
Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

CONSERVATO
No, ‘tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
church-door; but ‘tis enough,’twill serve: ask for
me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man.
I am peppered, I warrant, for this world.
A plague o’both your houses!
‘Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic!
Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.

ROMNEYO
I thought all for the best.

CONSERVATO
Help me into some house, Bohnero,
Or I shall faint. A plague o’ both your houses!
They have made worms’ meat of me: I have it,
And soundly too: your houses!

Exeunt CONSERVATO and BOHNERO