Despatch, for our time limited is past.
Erastus.
Alas, how can he but be short, whose tongue
Is fast tied with galling sorrow?
Farewell, Perseda; no more but that for her:
Inconstant Soliman, no more but that for him:
Unfortunate Erastus, no more but that for me:
Lo, this is all; and thus I leave to speak.
[Then they strangle him.
Piston.
Marry, sir, this is
A fair warning for me to get me gone.
[Exit Piston.
Soliman.
O, save his life, if it be possible;
I will not lose him for my kingdom's worth.
Ah, poor Erastus! art thou dead already?
What bold presumer durst be so resolved
For to bereave Erastus' life from him,
Whose life to me was dearer than mine own?
Was't thou? and thou?—Lord Marshal, bring them hither;
And at Erastus' hand let them receive
The stroke of death, whom they have spoil'd of life.
What, is thy hand too weak? then mine shall help
To send them down to everlasting night,
To wait upon thee through eternal shade;
Thy soul shall not go mourning hence alone:
Thus die, and thus; for thus you murther'd him.