What dost thou mean? thou canst not fight:
The blows thou mak'st at me are quite besides;
And those I offer at thee, thou spread'st thine arms,
And tak'st upon thy breast, Alas! defenceless.
Asp. I have got enough, And my desire; there's no place so fit for me to die as here.
Enter Evadne.
Evad. Amintor; I am loaden with events That flie to make thee happy; I have joyes
[Her hands bloody with a knife.
That in a moment can call back thy wrongs,
And settle thee in thy free state again;
It is Evadne still that follows thee, but not her
mischiefs.
Amint. Thou canst not fool me to believe agen;
But thou hast looks and things so full of news that
I am staid.
Evad. Noble Amintor, put off thy amaze;
Let thine eyes loose, and speak, am I not fair?
Looks not Evadne beauteous with these rites now?
Were those hours half so lovely in thine eyes,
When our hands met before the holy man?
I was too foul within to look fair then;
Since I knew ill, I was not free till now.
Amint. There is presage of some important thing
About thee, which it seems thy tongue hath lost:
Thy hands are bloody, and thou hast a knife.
Evad. In this consists thy happiness and mine;
Joy to Amintor, for the King is dead.