_Are_. Sir, they did plot together to take hence This harmless life; should it pass unreveng'd, I should to earth go weeping: grant me then (By all the love a Father bears his Child) Their custodies, and that I may appoint Their tortures and their death. _Di_. Death? soft, our Law will not reach that, for this fault. _King_. 'Tis granted, take 'em to you, with a Guard. Come Princely _Pharamond_, this business past, We may with more security go on to your intended match. _Cle_. I pray that this action lose not _Philaster_ the hearts of the people. _Di_. Fear it not, their overwise heads will think it but a trick. [_Exeunt Omnes_. _Actus Quintus. Scena Prima_. _Enter_ Dion, Cleremont, _and_ Thrasiline. _Thra_. Has the King sent for him to death? _Di_. Yes, but the King must know, 'tis not in his power to war with Heaven. _Cle_. We linger time; the King sent for _Philaster_ and the Headsman an hour ago. _Thra_. Are all his wounds well? _Di_. All they were but scratches; but the loss of bloud made him faint. _Cle_. We dally Gentlemen. _Thra_. Away. _Di_. We'l scuffle hard before he perish. [_Exeunt_. _Enter_ Philaster, Arethusa, _and_ Bellario. _Are_. Nay dear _Philaster_ grieve not, we are well. _Bell_. Nay good my Lord forbear, we are wondrous well. _Phi_. Oh _Arethusa_! O _Bellario_! leave to be kind: I shall be shot from Heaven, as now from Earth, If you continue so; I am a man, False to a pair of the most trusty ones That ever earth bore, can it bear us all? Forgive and leave me, but the King hath sent To call me to my death, Oh shew it me, And then forget me: And for thee my boy, I shall deliver words will mollifie The hearts of beasts, to spare thy innocence. _Bell_. Alas my Lord, my life is not a thing Worthy your noble thoughts; 'tis not a life, 'Tis but a piece of child-hood thrown away: Should I out-live, I shall then out-live Vertue and honour. And when that day comes, If ever I should close these eyes but once, May I live spotted for my perjury, And waste my limbs to nothing. _Are_. And I (the woful'st maid as ever was, Forc'd with my hands to bring my Lord to death) Do by the honour of a Virgin swear, To tell no hours beyond it. _Phi_. Make me not hated so. _Are_. Come from this prison, all joyful to our deaths.