Still crying out, Leonida, my loue!
Then, as his death were limited by hers,
He sacrifiz’d his life vnto her loue:
For there (vnluckily) he slew himselfe.
Sfor. The King’s displeas’d, my Lord.
Iag. No matter: I’me glad I touch’d his conscience
To the quicke. Did you not see
How my relation chang’d his countenance,
As if my words ingendred in his brest
Some new-bred passions?