GOV. I smile at thee. Draw all the deaths that ever mankind suffer'd Unto one head to help thine own invention, And make my end as rare as this thy sin, And full as fearful to the eyes of women, My spirit shall fly singing to his lodging, In midst of that rough weather. Doom me, tyrant! Had I fear'd death, I'd never appear'd noble, To seal this act upon me, which e'en honours me, Unto my mistress' spirit: it loves me for't. I told my heart 'twould prove destruction to't, Who (hearing 'twas for her) charg'd me to do't. _Enter the_ GHOST, _in the same form as the body in_ _the chair_. TYR. Thy glories shall be shorten'd, who's within there? [_He sees the_ GHOST. I call'd not thee, thou enemy to firmness, Mortality's earthquake! GOV. Welcome to mine eyes, As is the dayspring from the morning's womb Unto that wretch, whose nights are tedious! As liberty to captives, health to labourers, And life still to old people never weary on't, So welcome art thou to me! The deed's done, Thou queen of spirits! he has his end upon him: Thy body shall return to rise again, For thy abuser falls, and has no power To vex thee farther. GHOST. My truest love! Live ever-honoured here, and bless'd above, TYR. O, if there be a hell for flesh and spirit, 'Tis built within this bosom-- _Enter_ NOBLES. My lords, treason! GOV. Now, death, I'm for thee; welcome! TYR. Your king's poison'd! MEM. The King of heaven be prais'd for it! TYR. Lay hold on him-- On Govianus! MEM. E'en with the best loves And truest hearts that ever subjects owed. TYR. How's that? I charge you all, lay hands on him. MEM. Look you, my lord, your will shall be obey'd: Here comes another, we'll have his hand too. _Enter_ HELVETIUS. HEL. You shall have both mine, if that work go forward, Beside my voice and knee. TYR. Helvetius! Then my destruction was confirm'd amongst 'em; Premeditation wrought it. O my torments! ALL. Live Govianus long our virtuous king! [_Flourish._ TYR. That thunder strikes me dead. GOV. I cannot better Reward my joys than with astonish'd silence; For all the wealth of words is not of power To make up thanks for you, my honoured lords: I'm like a man pluck'd up from many waters, That never look'd for help, and am here placed Upon this cheerful mountain, where prosperity Shoots forth her richest beam. MEM. Long-injured lord! The tyranny of his actions grew so weighty, His life so vicious-- HEL. To which this is witness, Monster in sin!--this, the disquieted body Of my too resolute child in honour's war.