Abd. Do, and ask her pardon.
Ori. No, I have liv'd too long, to have my faith
(My tri'd faith) call'd in question, and by him
That should know true affection is too tender
To suffer an unkind touch, without ruine;
Study ingratitude, all, from my example;
For to be thankful now, is to be false.
But be it so, let me dye, I see you wish it;
Yet dead for truth, and pities sake, report
What weapon you made choice of, when you kild me.
Vel. She faints.
Abd. What have ye done?
Ori. My last breath cannot
Be better spent, than to say I forgive you;
Nor is my death untimely, since with me
I take along, what might have been hereafter
In scorn delivered for the doubtful issue
Of a suspected mother.
Vel. Oh, she's gone.
Abd. For ever gone. Are you a man?
Abd. Open her mouth, and power this Cordial in it;
If any spark of life be unquench'd in her,
This will recover her.
Vel. 'Tis all in vain,
She's stiffe already: live I, and she dead?