Praised be the gods who have brought me safe—to die
Beside thee. Nay, but kneel not—rise, and fly
Ere death take hold on thee too. Bid the child
Kiss me. The ways all round are wide and wild—
Ye may win safe away. They deemed me dead—
My last friends left—who saw me fallen, and fled
No shame is theirs—they fought to the end. But ye,
Fly: not your love can keep my life in me—
Not even the sight and sense of you so near.
SABRINA.
How can we fly, father?
ESTRILD.
She would not fear—
Thy very child is she—no heart less high
Than thine sustains her—and we will not fly.
LOCRINE.
So shall their work be perfect. Yea, I know
Our fate is fallen upon us, and its woe.
Yet have we lacked not gladness—and this end
Is not so hard. We have had sweet life to friend,
And find not death our enemy. All men born
Die, and but few find evening one with morn
As I do, seeing the sun of all my life
Lighten my death in sight of child and wife.
I would not live again to lose that kiss,
And die some death not half so sweet as this.
[Dies.
ESTRILD.
Thou thought’st to cleave in twain my life and
To cast my hand away in death, Locrine?
See now if death have drawn thee far from me!