Ant. Madam, I will not swell, like a tragedian,
In forcèd passion of affected strains. 110
If I had present power of ought but pitying you,
I would be as ready to redress your wrongs
As to pursue your love. Throngs of thoughts
Crowd for their passage; somewhat I will do.
Reach me thy hand; think this is honour’s bent,
To live unslavèd, to die innocent.
Mel. Let me entreat a favour, gracious love.
Be patient, see me die; good, do not weep:
Go sup, sweet chuck, drink, and securely sleep.
Ant. I’faith I cannot; but I’ll force my face 120
To palliate my sickness.
Mel. Give me thy hand. Peace on thy bosom dwell:
That’s all my woe can breathe. Kiss: thus, farewell.
Ant. Farewell: my heart is great of thoughts; stay, dove:
And therefore I must speak: but what? O love!
By this white hand: no more: read in these tears,
What crushing anguish thy Antonio bears.
[Antonio kisseth Mellida’s hand: then Mellida goes from the grate.
Mel. Good night, good heart.
Ant. Thus heat from blood, thus souls from bodies part. 129
Enter Piero and Strotzo.