TYR. Begone, or never see life more! I'll send thee far enough from court. Memphonius! Where's he now? MEM. Ever at your highness' service. TYR. How dar'st thou be so near, when we have threaten'd Death to thy fellow? Have we lost our power, Or thou thy fear? Leave us in time of grace: 'Twill be too late anon. MEM. I think 'tis so with thee already. [_Aside._ TYR. Dead! And I so healthful! There's no equality in this. Stay! MEM. Sir! TYR. Where is that fellow brought the first report to us? MEM. He waits without. TYR. I charge thee give command, That he be executed speedily, As thou'lt stand firm thyself. MEM. Now, by my faith, His tongue has help'd his neck to a sweet bargain. [_Exit_ MEMPHONIUS. TYR. Her own fair hand so cruel! Did she choose Destruction before me? was I no better? How much am I exalted to my face, And when I would be grac'd, how little worthy! There's few kings know how rich they are in goodness, Or what estate they have in grace and virtue: There is so much deceit in glosers' tongues, The truth is taken from us; we know nothing But what is for their purpose. That's our stint; We are allow'd no more. O wretched greatness! I'll cause a sessions for my flatterers, And have them all hang'd up. 'Tis done too late. O, she's destroy'd, married to death and silence, Which nothing can divorce--riches nor laws, Nor all the violence that this frame can raise. I've lost the comfort of her sight for ever, I cannot call this life that flames within me, But everlasting torment lighted up, To show my soul her beggary. A new joy Is come to visit me in spite of death! It takes me of that sudden, I'm asham'd Of my provision, but a friend will bear. Within there! _Enter_ SOLDIERS. 1ST SOL. Sir? 2D SOL. My lord! TYR. The men I wish'd for for secresy and employment. Go, give order that Govianus be releas'd. 4TH SOL. Releas'd, sir? TYR. Set free; and then I trust he will fly the kingdom, And never know my purpose. Run, sir! [_Exit_ 4TH SOLDIER. You Bring me the keys of the cathedral. 1ST SOL. Are you so holy now, do you curse all day, And go to pray at midnight? [_Aside and Exit._ TYR. Provide you, sirs, close lanthorns and a pickaxe. Away: be speedy. 2D SOL. Lanthorns and a pickaxe? Does he mean to bury himself alive too? [_Exeunt_ 2D _and_ 3D SOLDIERS.