Mel. His spirit is but poor that can be kept
From death for want of weapons.
Is not my hand a weapon
sharp enough
To stop my breath? or, if you tie down those,
I vow, Amintor, I will never eat,
Or drink, or
sleep, or have to do with that
That may preserve life! This I swear to keep.
Lys. Look to him though, and bear those bodies in.
May this a fair example be to me,
To rule with temper: For,
on lustful kings,
Unlook’d-for, sudden deaths from heaven are sent;
But curst is he that is their instrument.
[Exeunt.