BREMO.
I’ll suck the sweetness from thy marrow-bones.
AMADINE.
Ah spare, ah spare to shed my guiltless blood!
BREMO.
With this my bat will I beat out thy brains;
Down, down, I say, prostrate thyself upon the ground.
AMADINE.
Then, Mucedorus, farewell, my hoped joys, farewell!
Yea, farewell life, and welcome present death!
[She kneels.]
To thee, O God, I yield my dying ghost.
BREMO.
Now, Bremo, play thy part.
How now, what sudden change is this?
My limbs do tremble, and my sinews shake,
My weak’ned arms have lost their former force.
Ah, Bremo, Bremo, what a foil hast thou,
That yet at no time ever wast afraid
To dare the greatest gods to fight with thee,
[He strikes.]
And now wants strength for one down-driving blow?
Ah, how my courage fails, when I should strike!
Some new-come spirit abiding in my breast,
Saith, Spare her, Bremo, spare her, do not kill.
Shall I spare her, which never spared any?
To it, Bremo, to it; essay again.
I cannot wield my weapon in my hand,
Methinks I should not strike so fair a one,
I think her beauty hath bewitch’d my force,
Or else within me alter’d nature’s course.
Ay, woman, wilt thou live i’ th’ woods with me?
AMADINE.
Fain would I live, yet loth to live in woods.