I'll boast my innocence above,
And let them see a soul they could not sully,
I shall be there before my father's ghost,
That yet must languish long in frosts and fires,
For making me unhappy by his crime.--
Stand oft, and let me take my fill of death; [_Struggling again._
For I can hold my breath in your despite,
And swell my heaving soul out when I please.
_Alv._ Heaven comfort you!
_Seb._ What, art thou giving comfort!
Wouldst thou give comfort, who hast given despair?
Thou seest Alonzo silent; he's a man.
He knows, that men, abandoned of their hopes,
Should ask no leave, nor stay for sueing out
A tedious writ of ease from lingering heaven,
But help themselves as timely as they could,
And teach the Fates their duty.
_Dor._ [_To_ ALV. _and_ ANT.] Let him go;
He is our king, and he shall be obeyed.
_Alv._ What, to destroy himself? O parricide!
_Dor._ Be not injurious in your foolish zeal,
But leave him free; or, by my sword, I swear
To hew that arm away, that stops the passage
To his eternal rest.
_Ant._ [_Letting go his hold._] Let him be guilty of his own death, if
he pleases; for I'll not be guilty of mine, by holding him.
[_The King shakes off_ ALV.
_Alv._ [_To_ DOR.] Infernal fiend,
Is this a subject's part?
_Dor._ 'Tis a friend's office.
He has convinced me, that he ought to die;
And, rather than he should not, here's my sword,
To help him on his journey.
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