+Ort.+ And so thou shalt, brave girl. +Arb.+ Now, duke, good night to you, and the devil Send you good rest. +Art.+ Hold, brother. +Arb.+ Who's that? +Art.+ 'Tis I thy injur'd sister, come to make The first hole in that base duke's heart; it is My right. +Arb.+ Begin, begin then, that I may Make an end. +Art.+ Stay, brother, not too fast, Has he said his prayers? +Arb.+ His pray'rs! why none But the devil will hear them. Come, come, sister, Give me the dagger again; you waste time. +Art.+ And so I will, the duke shan't die. +Arb.+ How, not die? +Art.+ Not die, I say. +Arb.+ Then you are his whore all this while, and wou'd Have him live, that you may be so still. +Art.+ Brother, Another word so foul, I'll strike this dagger Through your heart, Therefore hear me speak. Know then, 'Tis I that cannot love the duke, which he Would never tell you, knowing 'twould make you angry With me. +Arb.+ Nay then I'll kill you for fooling A brother and your reputation thus. +Duke.+ Hold, Arbatus, she says it but to save My life. 'Tis I have fooled you both, therefore Strike here. +Arb.+ And so I will, then. +Art.+ Hold, brother; Pull not a load of sins upon your head; 'Tis I have been to blame, indeed I have, With loving him too much. +Arb.+ Then thou shalt die. +Duke.+ Hold, sir, heaven will frown on you for ever, If you shed one drop of that pure blood; upon My word, 'tis I. +Arb.+ Keep not my tortur'd soul Thus in suspense. One of you tell me true, And that quickly too, else I will destroy You both, and that's the surest way not To mistake. +Duke.+ Then be assur'd 'tis I. +Art.+ Brother, 'Tis not, 'tis I. +Arb.+ Heyday! heyday! I know Not what to do or say. [_Throws down his sword and goes away._ +Ort.+ So, he is dead, I hope. +Arb.+ No more than you are. +Ort.+ How so? +Arb.+ Come, My lord, as you go, I'll tell you. [_Exeunt +Arbatus+ and +Ortellus+._ +Duke.+ O Artabella, why didst take my sin Upon thyself, hiding thy innocence With a face of guilt? My death had been not Punishment enough, because I have wrong'd So fair a life as yours. Which way to ask Forgiveness, I can't tell; there are no pardons for Such sins as mine; the only way to do Thee right, is this. [_Offers to kill himself._ +Art.+ Hold, sir, my life Shall follow yours, if you strike. +Duke.+ Why would'st thou Have me live? +Art.+ Because I love you, sir. +Duke.+ And that's the only reason I would die. +Art.+ Why, would it be kindly done to show My eyes your blood?