This was to him, of all the joys that might Revive his heart, the chiefest joy of all, That to declare the faithful heart which he Did bear to her, fortune so well did fall, That in her love he should both live and die. After these words he stay'd, and spake no more, But joyfully beholding us each one, His words and cheer amazed us so sore, That still we stood; when forthwith thereupon: But, why slack you, quoth he, to do the thing For which you come? make speed, and stay no more: Perform your master's will. Now tell the king He hath his life, for which he long'd so sore: And with those words himself with his own hand Fast'ned the bands about his neck. The rest Wond'ring at his stout heart, astonied[79] stand To see him offer thus himself to death. What stony breast, or what hard heart of flint Would not relent to see this dreary sight? So goodly a man, whom death nor fortune's dint Could once disarm, murder'd with such despite; And in such sort bereft, amidst the flowers Of his fresh years, that ruthful was to seen: "For violent is death, when he devours Young men or virgins, while their years be green." Lo! now our servants seeing him take the bands, And on his neck himself to make them fast; Without delay set to their cruel hands, And sought to work their fierce intent with haste. They stretch the bloody bands; and when the breath Began to fail his breast, they slack'd again: Thrice did they pull, and thrice they loosed him, So did their hands repine against their hearts: And ofttimes loosed to his greater pain. "But date of death, that fixed is so fast, Beyond his course there may no wight extend;" For strangled is this noble Earl at last, Bereft of life, unworthy such an end. CHORUS. O damned deed! RENUCHIO. What, deem you this to be All the sad news that I have to unfold? Is here, think you, end of the cruelty That I have seen? CHORUS. Could any heavier woe Be wrought to him, than to destroy him so? RENUCHIO. What, think you this outrage did end so well? The horror of the fact, the greatest grief, The massacre, the terror is to tell. CHORUS. Alack! what could be more? they threw percase The dead body to be devour'd and torn Of the wild beasts. RENUCHIO. Would God it had been cast a savage prey To beasts and birds: but lo, that dreadful thing Which e'en the tiger would not work, but to Suffice his hunger, that hath the tyrant king Withouten ruth commanded us to do, Only to please his wrathful heart withal. Happy had been his chance, too happy, alas! If birds or beasts had eaten up his corpse, Yea, heart and all within this cup I bring, And am constrained now unto the face Of his dear lady to present the same. CHORUS. What kind of cruelty is this you name? Declare forthwith, and whereunto doth tend This farther plaint.