W. RASH. How can you sleep so sound, and hear such groans, So horrid and so tedious to the ear, that I Was frighted hither by the sound? O sister, Here lies a gentleman that lov'd you too dearly And himself too ill, as by his death appears. I can report no farther without tears. Assist me now. [_Aside to_ LONGFIELD. LONG. When he came first, death startled in his eyes; His hand had not forsook the dagger-hilt, But still he gave it strength, as if he fear'd He had not sent it home unto his heart. GERT. Enough, enough! If you will have me live, give him no name; Suspicion tells me 'tis my Geraldine: But be it whom it will, I'll come to him, To suffer death as resolute as he. [_Exit_ GERTRUDE. W. RASH. Did not I tell you 'twould take? Down, sir, down.[188] GERA. I guess what you'd have me do. LONG. O, for a little blood to besprinkle him! W. RASH. No matter for blood, I'll not suffer her to come near him till the plot have ta'en his full height. GERA. A scarf o'er my face, lest I betray myself. _Enter_ GERTRUDE _below_. W. RASH. Here, here, lie still, she comes. Now, Mercury, be propitious. GERT. Where lies this spectacle of blood? This tragic scene? W. RASH. Yonder lies Geraldine. GERT. O, let me see him with his face of death! Why do you stay me from my Geraldine? W. RASH. Because, unworthy as thou art, thou shalt not see The man now dead, whom living thou didst scorn. The worst part that he had deserv'd thy best; But yet contemn'd, deluded, mock'd, despis'd by you, Unfit for aught but for the general work Which you were made for, man's creation. GERT. Burst not my heart, before I see my love, Brother, upon my knees, I beg your leave, That I may see the wound of Geraldine: I will embalm his body with my tears, And carry him unto his sepulchre. From whence I'll never rise, but be interr'd In the same dust he shall be buried in. LONG. I do protest she draws sad tears from me. I prythee, let her see her Geraldine. [_Aside._ GERT. Brother, if e'er you lov'd me as a sister, Deprive me not the sight of Geraldine. W. RASH. Well, I am contented you shall touch his lips, But neither see his face nor yet his wound. GERT. Not see his face? W. RASH. Nay, I have sworn it to the contrary: Nay, hark you, farther yet. GERT. What now? W. RASH. But one kiss--no more. GERT. Why, then, no more. W. RASH. Marry, this liberty I'll give you: If you intend to make any speech of repentance Over him, I am content, so it be short. GERT. What you command is law, and I obey. JOYCE. Peace, give ear to the passion. [_Aside._]