Exec. Come, lady, you must lay down your head
First, the duke says.
Amph. That word's the sharpest axe
That I shall feel.
Exec. Have you said all? [Both kneel as at prayers.
Amph. To earth I have,
But not to heaven.
Farewell, dear friend, for one short minute.
Zor. My soul
Shall hasten after yours.
Ama. S'life! jailor, will you
Let them speak to one another again?
Amph. Executioner, now I am ready.
Duke. Hold,
The prisoner shall die first.
Zor. With all my
Heart, I am ready.
Duke. Nay, it is not you
I mean, sir; rise; 'tis I that am the prisoner,
I will make you a present, take your life,
Your love; nay, and my dukedom too: and to
Oblige you most of all, executioner,
Strike off my head, for I am weary of it.