Lady Len. Then come,—yet[239] stay! ascend,—yet let us part.
I fear,—yet know not what I fear.
Your love s precious, yet mine honour’s dear.
Men. If I do stain thy honour with foul lust,
May thunder strike me to show Jove is just!
Lady Len. Then come, my lord; on earth your vow is given. 40
This aid I’ll lend you.
[He throws up a ladder of cords, which she makes fast to some part of the window; he ascends, and at top falls.
Men. Thus I mount my heaven:
Receive me, sweet!
Lady Len. O me, unhappy wretch!
How fares your honour? Speak, fate-cross’d lord!
If life retain his seat within you, speak!
Else like that Sestian dame, that saw her love
Cast by the frowning billows on the sands,
And lean death, swoll’n big with the Hellespont,
In bleak Leander’s body—like his love,
Come I to thee. One grave shall serve us both!
Men. Stay, miracle of women! yet I breathe. 50
Though death be entered in this tower of flesh,
He is not conqueror; my heart stands out,
And yields to thee, scorning his tyranny!
Lady Len. My doors are vow’d shut, and I cannot help you.
Your wounds are mortal; wounded is mine honour
If there the town-guard find you. Unhappy dame!
Relief is perjur’d,—my vow kept, shame!
What hellish destiny did twist my fate!
Men. Rest seize thine eyelids; be not passionate;
Sweet, sleep secure; I’ll remove myself, 60
That viper Envy shall not spot thy fame:
I’ll take that poison with me, my soul’s rest,
For like a serpent I’ll creep on my breast.