—hold thy commanding Hand, and do not kill me, who wou’d not hurt thee to regain my Kingdom— He snatches her in his Arms, she reels.
Bac. Hah—a Woman’s Voice,—what art thou? Oh my Fears!
Queen. Thy Hand has been too cruel to a Heart—whose Crime was only tender Thoughts for thee.
Bac. The Queen! What is’t my sacrilegious Hand has done!
Queen. The noblest Office of a gallant Friend, thou’st sav’d my Honour, and hast given me Death.
Bac. Is’t possible! ye unregarding Gods, is’t possible?
Queen. Now I may love you without Infamy, and please my dying Heart by gazing on you.
Bac. Oh, I am lost—for ever lost—I find my Brain turn with the wild confusion.
Queen. I faint—oh, lay me gently on the Earth. Lays her down.
Bac. Who waits— Turns in Rage to his Men.