Phil. Oh Alonzo, to add to my Distraction, Must I find thee a sharer in my Fate?
Alon. It is my Duty, Sir, to die with you.—
But, Sir, my Princess
Has here—a more than equal claim to Grief;
And Fear for her dear Safety will deprive me
Of this poor Life, that shou’d have been your Sacrifice.
Enter Zarrack with a Dagger; gazes on Philip.
Phil. Kind Murderer, welcome! quickly free my Soul, And I will kiss the sooty Hand that wounds me.
Zar. Oh, I see you can be humble.
Phil. Humble! I’ll be as gentle as a Love-sick Youth, When his dear Conqu’ress sighs a Hope into him, If thou wilt kill me!—Pity me and kill me.
Zar. I hope to see your own Hand do that Office.
Phil. Oh, thou wert brave indeed, If thou wou’dst lend me but the use of one.
Zar. You’ll want a Dagger then.
Phil. By Heaven, no, I’d run it down my Throat, Or strike my pointed Fingers through my Breast.