Tyr. Remove the stone, that I may see my mistress!
Set to your hands, you villains, and that nimbly,
Or the same axe shall make you all fly open!
All. O good my lord!
Tyr. I must not be delay'd.
1st Sol. This is ten thousand times worse than entering on a breach:
'Tis the first stone that ever I took off
From any lady; marry, I have brought 'em many:
Fair diamonds, sapphires, rubies. [They raise the stone.
Tyr. O bless'd object!
I never shall be weary to behold thee;
I could eternally stand thus and see thee.
Why, 'tis not possible, death should look so fair.
Life is not more illustrious[470], when health smiles on't;
She's only pale, the colour of the court,
And most attractive; mistresses most strive for't;
And their lascivious servants most affect it.
Lay to your hands again!
All. My lord?
Tyr. Take up her body!
1st Sol. How, my lord?
Tyr. Her body.
1st Sol. She's dead, my lord.