Isa. O, my offended lord, lift up your eyes:
But yet avert them from my loathèd sight.
Had I with you enjoyed the lawful pleasure,
To which belongs nor fear nor public shame,
I might have lived in honour, died in fame!
Your pardon on my falt’ring knees I beg, 190
Which shall confirm more peace unto my death
Than all the grave instructions of the Church.
Rob. Pardon belongs unto my holy weeds,
Freely thou hast it.
Farewell, my Isabella! let thy death
Ransom thy soul. O die a rare example!
The kiss thou gavest me in the church, here take;
As I leave thee, so thou the world forsake!
[Exit Roberto.
Car.[312] Rare accident, ill welcome, noble lord.
Madam, your executioner desires you to forgive him. 200
Isa. Yes, and give him too. What must I do, my friend?
Exec. Madam, only tie up your hair.
Isa. O, these golden nets,
That have ensnared so many wanton youths,
Not one but has been held a thread of life,
And superstitiously depended on.
Now to the block we must vail! What else?
Exec. Madam, I must entreat you, blind your eyes.
Isa. I have lived too long in darkness, my friend;
And yet mine eyes, with their majestic light,
Have got new muses in a poet’s sprite. 210
They have been more gazed at than the god of day:
Their brightness never could be flatterèd,
Yet thou command’st a fixèd cloud of lawn
To eclipse eternally these minutes of light.
What else?
Exec. Now, madam, all’s done,
And when you please, I’ll execute my office.