SCENE III.
Enter the Tyrant [and Soldiers] at a farther door, which opened, brings them to the tomb, where the lady lies buried. The tomb here discovered, richly set forth.
Tyr. Softly, softly!
Let's give this place the peace that it requires;
The vaults e'en chide our steps with murmuring sounds,
For making bold so late: it must be done.
1st Sol. I fear nothing but the whorish ghost of a quean I kept once; she swore she would so haunt me, I should never pray in quiet for her, and I have kept myself from church these fifteen years to prevent her.
Tyr. The monument woos me: I must run and kiss it.
Now trust me, if the tears do not e'en stand
Upon the marble: what slow springs have I!
'Twas weeping to itself before I came;
How pity strikes e'en through insensible things,
And makes them shame our dulness.
Thou house of silence and the calms of rest,
After tempestuous life, I claim of thee
A mistress, one of the most beauteous sleepers
That ever lay so cold, not yet due to thee
By natural death, but cruelly forc'd hither,
Many a year before the world could spare her!
We miss her amongst the glories of our court,
When they be number'd up. All thy still strength,
Thou grey-ey'd monument, shall not keep her from us!
Strike, villain! though the echo rail us all
Into ridiculous deafness; pierce the jaws
Of this cold ponderous creature.
2d Sol. Sir!
2d Sol. I shall not hold the axe fast, I'm afraid, sir.
Tyr. O shame of men, a soldier and so fearful?
2d Sol. 'Tis out of my element to be in a church, sir.
Give me the open field, and turn me loose, sir.