Ama. D'ye hear, sir? pray let the jailor
Be turn'd out of his place, for letting them speak to
One another.
Amph. See, Zoranzo, where they sit
In triumph o'er our deaths.
Ama. S'life, sir, they are
Whispering, d'ye see
Yonder? Executioner, why don't you
Strike off their heads, and let them whisper then.
Sir, you're melancholy.
Duke. I am indeed.
Zor. Now, Amphelia, to heaven and you I truly
Vow, my love is still the same to cruel Amarissa.
Amph. Heaven and you witness the same for me:
My heart is still that undeserving duke's.
Exec. Come, which of you will die first?
Zor. Hast thou not
Skill enough to strike our heads off together?
Ama. Executioner, let them not have that
Satisfaction; pray, sir, let that woman
Die first, that damned Zoranzo may have
Two deaths; it will be one to him to see
Her die; shall it be so, sir?
Duke. What you please.