Thier. Thou mak'st me smile
I[n] the heighth of my calamities, as if
There could be the addition of an Atome,
To the gyant-body of my miseries.
But try, for I will hear thee, all sit down, 'tis death
To any that shall dare to interrupt him
In look, gesture, or word.
Mart. And such attention
As is due to the last, and the best story
That ever was deliver'd, will become you,
The griev'd Ordella, (for all other titles
But take away from that) having from me
Prompted by your last parting groan, enquir'd,
What drew it from you, and the cause soon learn'd:
For she whom barbarism could deny nothing,
With such prevailing earnestness desir'd it,
'Twas not in me, though it had been my death,
To hide it from her, she I say, in whom
All was, that Athens, Rome, or warlike Sparta,
Have registred for good in their best Women:
But nothing of their ill, knowing her self
Mark'd out, (I know not by what power, but sure
A cruel one) to dye, to give you children;
Having first with a setled countenance
Look'd up to Heaven, and then upon her self,
(It being the next best object) and then smil'd,
As if her joy in death to do you service,
Would break forth, in despight of the much sorrow
She shew'd she had to leave you: and then taking
Me by the hand, this hand which I must ever
Love better than I have done, since she touch'd it,
Go said she, to my Lord, (and to goe to him
Is such a happiness I must not hope for)
And tell him that he too much priz'd a trifle
Made only worthy in his love, and her
Thankful acceptance, for her sake to rob
The Orphan Kingdom of such guardians, as
Must of necessity descend [from] him;
And therefore in some part of recompence
Of his much love, and to shew to the world
That 'twas not her fault only, but her fate,
That did deny to let her be the mother
Of such most certain blessings: yet for proof,
She did not envy her, that happy her,
That is appointed to them, her [q]uick end
Should make way for her, which no sooner spoke,
But in a moment this too ready engine
Made such a battery in the choisest Castle
That ever nature made to defend life,
That strait it shook, and sunk.
Thier. Stay, dares any
Presume to shed a tear before me? or
Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit:
To do so for her? I have done, now on.
Mart. Fall'n thus, once more she smil'd, as if that death
For her had studied a new way to sever
The soul and body, without sense of pain;
And then tell him (quoth she) what you have seen,
And with what willingness 'twas done: for which
My last request unto him is, that he
Would instantly make choice of one (most happy
In being so chosen) to supply my place,
By whom if heaven bless him with a daughter,
In my remembrance let it bear my name
Which said she dy'd.
Thier. I hear this, and yet live;
Heart! art thou thunder proof, will nothing break thee?
She's dead, and what her entertainment may be
In th'other world without me is uncertain,
And dare I stay here unresolv'd?
Brun. Dear son.
Prot. Great King.
Thier. Unhand me, am I fall'n
So low, that I have lost the power to be
Disposer of my own life?
Mart. Be but pleas'd
To borrow so much time of sorrow, as
To call to mind her last request, for whom
(I must confess a loss beyond expression)
You turn your hand upon your self, 'twas hers
And dying hers, that you should live and happy
In seeing little models of your self,
By matching with another, and will you
Leave any thing that she desir'd ungranted?
And suffer such a life that was [l]aid down
For your sake only to be fruitless?