Pan. Oh, you wrong me more in this
Than in your rage you did: You mock me now.
Arb. Never forgive me, then; which is the worst
Can happen to me.
Pan. If you be in earnest,
Stand up, and give me but a gentle look,
And two kind words, and I shall be in
Heaven.
Arb. Rise you then too: Here I acknowledge thee,
My hope, the only jewel of my life,
The best of sisters,
dearer than my breath,
A happiness as high as I could think;
And when my actions call thee otherwise,
Perdition
light upon me!
Pan. This is better
Than if you had not frowned; it comes to me
Like mercy at the block; And when I leave
To
serve you with my life, your curse be with me.
Arb. Then thus I do salute thee; and again,
To make this knot the stronger. Paradise
Is there! It may be,
you are yet in doubt;
This third kiss blots it out.—I wade in sin,
[Aside.
Take her away; see her a prisoner
In her own chamber, closely, Gobrias!
Pan. Alas, sir, why?
Arb. I must not stay the answer. Do it.
Gob. Good sir!
Arb. No more! Do it, I say!
Mar. This is better and better.
Pan. Yet, hear me speak.
Arb. I will not hear you speak.—
Away with her! Let no man think to speak
For such a creature; for she is
a witch,
A poisoner, and a traitor!
Gob. Madam, this office grieves me.
Pan. Nay, ’tis well;
The king is pleased with it.
Arb. Bessus, go you along too with her. I will prove
All this that I have said, if I may live
So long. But I
am desperately sick;
For she has given me poison in a kiss:
She had it ’twixt her lips; and with her eyes
She
witches people. Go, without a word!
[Exeunt Gobrias, Panthea, Bessus, and Spaconia.
Like Fate itself, cutting what threads I pleased,
Decree such an unworthy end of me,
And all my glories? What am I, alas,
That you oppose me! If my secret thoughts
Have ever harboured swellings against you,
They could not hurt you; and it is in you
To give me sorrow, that will render me
Apt to receive your mercy: Rather so,
Let it be rather so, than punish me
With such unmanly sins. Incest is in me
Dwelling already; and it must be holy,
That pulls it thence.—Where art, Mardonius!
Mar. Here, sir.
Arb. I pray thee, bear me, if thou canst.
Am I not grown a strange weight?
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