Flam. I have held it
A wretched and most miserable life,
Which is not able to die.
Vit. Oh, but frailty!
Yet I am now resolv'd; farewell, affliction!
Behold, Brachiano, I that while you liv'd
Did make a flaming altar of my heart
To sacrifice unto you, now am ready
To sacrifice heart and all. Farewell, Zanche!
Zan. How, madam! do you think that I 'll outlive you;
Especially when my best self, Flamineo,
Goes the same voyage?
Flam. O most loved Moor!
Zan. Only, by all my love, let me entreat you,
Since it is most necessary one of us
Do violence on ourselves, let you or I
Be her sad taster, teach her how to die.
Flam. Thou dost instruct me nobly; take these pistols,
Because my hand is stain'd with blood already:
Two of these you shall level at my breast,
The other 'gainst your own, and so we 'll die
Most equally contented: but first swear
Not to outlive me.
Vit. and Zan. Most religiously.
Flam. Then here 's an end of me; farewell, daylight.
And, O contemptible physic! that dost take
So long a study, only to preserve
So short a life, I take my leave of thee. [Showing the pistols.
These are two cupping-glasses, that shall draw
All my infected blood out. Are you ready?
Both. Ready.
Flam. Whither shall I go now? O Lucian, thy ridiculous purgatory! to
find Alexander the Great cobbling shoes, Pompey tagging points, and
Julius Cæsar making hair-buttons, Hannibal selling blacking, and
Augustus crying garlic, Charlemagne selling lists by the dozen, and
King Pepin crying apples in a cart drawn with one horse!
Whether I resolve to fire, earth, water, air,
Or all the elements by scruples, I know not,
Nor greatly care.—Shoot! shoot!
Of all deaths, the violent death is best;
For from ourselves it steals ourselves so fast,
The pain, once apprehended, is quite past.
[They shoot, and run to him, and tread upon him.