thy lover. [_He charges the Zulus._

LYDIA. Hercules
Cannot withstand him. See: the king is down;
The tallest chief is up, heels over head,
Tossed corklike o'er my Cashel's sinewy back;
And his lieutenant all deflated gasps
For breath upon the sand. The others fly
In vain: his fist o'er magic distances
Like a chameleon's tongue shoots to its mark;
And the last African upon his knees
Sues piteously for quarter. [_Rushing into_ CASHEL'S _arms_.]
Oh, my hero: Thou'st saved us all this day.

CASHEL. 'Twas all for thee.

CETEWAYO. [_trying to rise_]. Have I been struck by lightning?

LUCIAN. Sir, your conduct
Can only be described as most ungentlemanly.

POLICEMAN. One of the prone is white.

CASHEL. 'Tis Paradise.

POLICEMAN. He's choking: he has something in his mouth.

LYDIA [_to_ CASHEL]. Oh Heaven! there is blood upon your hip.
You're hurt.

CASHEL. The morsel in yon wretch's mouth
Was bitten out of me.

[_Sensation._ LYDIA _screams and swoons in_ CASHEL'S _arms_.

ACT III

_Wiltstoken. A room in the Warren Lodge_

LYDIA _at her writing table_

LYDIA. O Past and Present, how ye do conflict
As here I sit writing my father's life!
The autumn woodland woos me from without
With whispering of leaves and dainty airs
To leave this fruitless haunting of the past.
My father was a very learned man.
I sometimes think I shall oldmaided be
Ere I unlearn the things he taught to me.

_Enter_ POLICEMAN

POLICEMAN. Asking your ladyship to pardon me
For this intrusion, might I be so bold
As ask a question of your people here
Concerning the Queen's peace?

LYDIA. My people here
Are but a footman and a simple maid;
And both have craved a holiday to join
Some local festival. But, sir, your helmet
Proclaims the Metropolitan Police.

POLICEMAN. Madam, it does; and I may now inform you
That what you term a local festival
Is a most hideous outrage 'gainst the law,
Which we to quell from London have come down:
In short, a prizefight. My sole purpose here
Is to inquire whether your ladyship
Any bad characters this a