“Ye deadly instruments of other’s ill,
Grant one request, which dying I do craue:
Since ye be bent this royall blood to spill,
Send me not hence with torture to the graue:
’Tis life ye seeke, the only thing I haue:
Which yet shall vade on wings of willing breath,
Since better tis to die then liue in death.”
148.
By this they with maine strength do me compell,
Strengthlesse for breath to yeeld to their intent: