Mes. Yes, Sir.

Arb. How does he? is he well?

Mes. In perfect health.

Arb. Take that for thy good news.

[Gives money.

[Reads.

1 Gent. The king starts back.

Mar. His blood goes back as fast.

2 Gent. And now it comes again.

Mar. He alters strangely.

Arb. The hand of Heaven is on me: Be it far
From me to struggle! If my secret sins
Have pull’d this curse upon me, lend me tears
Enow to wash me white, that I way feel
A child-like innocence within my breast!
Which, once perform’d, oh, give me leave to stand
As fix’d as constancy herself; my eyes
Set here unmoved, regardless of the world,
Though thousand miseries encompass me!

Mar. This is strange!—Sir, how do you?

Arb. Mardonius! my mother—

Mar. Is she dead?

Arb. Alas, she’s not so happy! Thou dost know
How she hath labour’d, since my father died,
To take by treason hence this loathed life,
That would but be to serve her. I have pardon’d,
And pardon’d, and by that have made her fit
To practise new sins, not repent the old.
She now had hired a slave to come from thence,
And strike me here; whom Gobrias, sifting out,
Took, and condemn’d, and executed there.
The careful’st servant! Heaven, let me but live
To pay that man! Nature is poor to me,
That will not let me have as many deaths
As are the times that he hath saved my life,
That I might die ’em over all for him.

Mar. Sir, let her bear her sins on her own head;
Vex not yourself.

Arb. What will the world,
Conceive of me? with what unnatural sins
Will they suppose me laden, when my life
Is sought by her, that gave it to the world?
But yet he writes me comfort here: My sister,
He says, is grown in beauty and in grace;
In all the innocent virtues that become
A tender spotless maid: She stains her cheeks
With mourning tears, to purge her mother’s ill;
And ’mongst that sacred dew she mingles prayers,
Her pure oblations, for my safe return.—
If I have lost the duty of a son;
If any pomp or vanity of state
Made me forget my natural offices;
Nay, further, if I have not every night
Expostulated with my wand’r’ing thoughts,
If aught unto my parent they have err’d,
And call’d ’em back; do you direct her arm
Unto this foul dissembling heart of mine.
But if I have been just to her, send out
Your power to compass me, and hold me safe
From searching treason; I will use no means
But prayer: For, rather suffer me to see
From mine own veins issue a deadly flood,
Than wash my dangers off with mother’s blood.

Mar. I ne’er saw such sudden extremities.

[Exeunt.