Are. We had lost our worthiest end else Phidias.
Phi. Canst thou hold out a while?
Are. To torture him
Anger would give me leave, to live an age yet;
That man is poorly spirited, whose life
Runs in his bloud alone, and not in's wishes,
And yet I swell, and burn like flaming Ætna,
A thousand new found fires are kindled in me,
But yet I must not die this four hours Phidias.
Phi. Remember who dies with thee, and despise death.
Are. I need no exhortation, the joy in me
Of what I have done, and why, makes poyson pleasure,
And my most killing torments mistresses.
For how can he have time to dye, or pleasure
That falls as fools unsatisfied, and simple?
Phi. This that consumes my life, yet keeps it in me,
Nor do I feel the danger of a dying,
And if I but endure to hear the curses
Of this fell Tyrant dead, I have half my Heaven.
Are. Hold thy soul fast but four hours Phidias,
And thou shalt see to wishes beyond ours,
Nay more beyond our meanings.
Phi. Thou hast steel'd me:
Farewel Aretus, and the souls of good men,
That as ours do, have left their Roman bodies
In brave revenge for vertue, guide our shadows,
I would not faint yet.
Are. Farewel Phidias
And as we have done nobly, gods look on us.—
[Exeunt severally.