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Arb. This woman shall carry no more letters back to your love Panthea; by Heaven she shall not; I say she shall not. Mar. This would make a saint swear like a soldier, and a soldier like Termagant. Tigr. This beats me more, king, than the blows you gave me. Arb. Take em away both, and together let them prisoners be, strictly and closely kept; or, sirrah, your life shall answer it; and let nobody speak with em hereafter. Tigr. Well, I am subject to you, Spa. This is th imprisonment I have lookd for always, [Exeunt Tigranes, Spaconia, Bacurius. Mar. Sir, have you done well now? Arb. Dare you reprove it? Mar. No. Arb. You must be crossing me. Mar. I have no letters, sir, to anger you, Arb. How darst thou so often forfeit thy life? Mar. Yes, and I know you wo not; or, if you do, youll miss it quickly. Arb. Why? Mar. Who shall tell you of these childish follies, when I am dead? who shall put-to his power to draw those virtues out of a flood of humours, when they are drownd, and make em shine again? No, cut my head off: Then you may talk, and be believed, and grow worse, and have your too self-glorious temper rockd into a dead sleep, and the kingdom with you; till foreign swords be in your throats, and slaughter be everywhere about you, like your flatterers. Do, kill me! Arb. Prythee, be tamer, good Mardonius. Enter GOBRIAS. Mar. There comes a good man; love him too; hes temperate; you may live to have need of such a virtue: Rage is not still in fashion. Arb. Welcome, good Gobrias. Gob. My service, and this letter, to your grace. Arb. From whom? Gob. From the rich mine of virtue and beauty, Arb. She is in prison, Gobrias, is she not? |
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