PHIL. That humour like a flower soon will fade; Once did mine own thoughts sing to that delight, Till love and you reform'd my barbarousness: Therefore, dear lady, pity my wounded heart. MAR. A surgeon here for this love-wounded man! How deep's your ulcer'd orifice, I pray you tell? PHIL. Quite thorough my heart. MAR. 'Tis strange, and look so well! Yet ladies' eyes have power to murder men, And with one smile to make them whole again. Achilles' lance to a hair; but do you love me, prince? PHIL. Dearer than my soul. MAR. Would I could love you! PHIL. Madam, so you may. MAR. As yet I cannot: therefore let me go. PHIL. O, do not leave me, grant me but one request, And here I vow by that divinest power, The salt-sea's glorious issue, whose bright sphere Rules my sick heart, and knows my chaste intent, That if you please to impose on me that task Which neither man nor monster can achieve, Which even angels have a dread to touch, Deeds which outstretch all possibility, 'Sfoot, more than can be thought--and I'll effect, Or else I'll perish in th' accomplishment. MAR. Let your request fit virgin-modesty, And you obey your vow, I am content To give your thoughts contented happiness. PHIL. 'Tis but a kiss I ask, a minute's joy. MAR. Now Cupid help thee; is thy grief for this? Keep thy strong vow, and freely take a kiss. [_He kisses her._ PHIL. I have obtain'd my heaven, and in this touch I feel the breath of all deliciousness: Then freely give the sentence of my work, Muster up all the engines of your wit, Teach Juno rules beyond maliciousness; Whate'er it be, I'll die but I'll perform it. MAR. Thou shalt not kill thyself, nor fight with monsters, Nor bring the great Turk's beard[172] to show thy zeal: Thy life thou shalt not hazard for my love, Nor will I tie thee to an endless task: But even with ease and gentle-tangled knots, Thou shalt entwine thy clue of miseries. PHIL. Let it have passage, madam: give me my doom. MAR. Then, Philocles, knit silence to my words, And mark thy doom; for thus my stricter will Loads grief upon thy vainer levity. Hence, for the space and compass of one year, Thou shalt abjure the liberty of speech; Thou shalt not speak for fully twelvemonth's space, For friend nor foe, for danger nor for death; But live, like air, with silent emptiness. Break thou this vow, I'll hold thee for a villain: And all the world shall know thy perjury. PHIL. Be heaven and earth a witness of my vow And mine eternal silence!--I am dumb.