[Cry within.
Should be so sound, and mine, whom thou hast wrong'd,
So broken: Hark I am pursued: you gods
I'le take this offer'd means of my escape:
They have no mark to know me, but my wounds,
If she be true; if false, let mischief light
On all the world at once. Sword, print my wounds
Upon this sleeping boy: I ha' none I think
Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee.
[Wounds him.
Bell. Oh death I hope is come, blest be that hand, It meant me well; again, for pities sake.
Phi. I have caught my self,
[Phi. falls.
The loss of bloud hath stayed my flight. Here, here,
Is he that stroke thee: take thy full revenge,
Use me, as I did mean thee, worse than death:
I'le teach thee to revenge this luckless hand
Wounded the Princess, tell my followers
Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me,
And I will second thee: Get a reward.
Bell. Fly, fly my Lord and save your self.
Phi. How's this?
Wouldst thou I should be safe?
Bell. Else it were vain
For me to live. These little wounds I have,
Ha' not bled much, reach me that noble hand,
I'le help to cover you.