Aur. Machi'vel, thy hand, I can't repent, farewell:
My burthened conscience sinks me down to hell.
[Dies.
Mach. I cannot tarry long, farewell; we'll meet,
Where we shall never part: if here be any
My life has injur'd, let your charity
Forgive declining Machi'vel: I'm sorry.
Ant. His penitence works strongly on my temper.
Off, disguise; see, falling count, Antonio forgives thee.
Mach. Antonio? O my shame!
Can you, whom I have injur'd most, pardon my guilt?
Give me thy hand yet nearer: this embrace
Betrays thee to thy death: ha, ha, ha!
[Stabs him.
So weeps the Egyptian monster when it kills,
Wash'd in a flood of tears; couldst ever think
Machi'vel's repentance could come from his heart?
No, down, Colossus, author of my sin,
And bear the burthen mingled with thine own,
To finish thy damnation.
Enter the King, Aurelia, Evadne, Old Tailor.
King. Accursed villain! thou hast murther'd him,
That holds not one small drop of royal blood,
But what is worth thy life.