_Dor._ Thou glorious minister of the Power I serve! (For thou art more than mortal,) is 't for me, Poor sinner, thou art pleased awhile to leave Thy heavenly habitation, and vouchsafest, Though glorified, to take my servant's habit?-- For, put off thy divinity, so look'd My lovely Angelo. _Ang._ Know, I am the same; And still the servant to your piety. Your zealous prayers and pious deeds first won me (But 'twas by His command to whom you sent them) To guide your steps. I tried your charity, When in a beggar's shape you took me up, And clothed my naked limbs, and after fed, As you believed, my famish'd mouth. Learn all, By your example, to look on the poor With gentle eyes! for in such habits, often, Angels desire an alms[52]. I never left you, Nor will I now; for I am sent to carry Your pure and innocent soul to joys eternal, Your martyrdom once suffer'd; and before it, Ask any thing from me, and rest assured, You shall obtain it. _Dor._ I am largely paid For all my torments. Since I find such grace, Grant that the love of this young man to me, In which he languisheth to death, may be Changed to the love of heaven. _Ang._ I will perform it; And in that instant when the sword sets free Your happy soul, his shall have liberty. Is there aught else? _Dor._ For proof that I forgive My persecutor, who in scorn desired To taste of that most sacred fruit I go to; After my death, as sent from me, be pleased To give him of it. _Ang._ Willingly, dear mistress. _Mac._ I am amazed. _Anton._ I feel a holy fire, That yields a comfortable heat within me; I am quite alter'd from the thing I was. See! I can stand, and go alone; thus kneel To heavenly Dorothea, touch her hand With a religious kiss. [_Kneels._ _Re-enter_ SAPRITIUS _and_ THEOPHILUS. _Sap._ He is well now, But will not be drawn back. _Theoph._ It matters not, We can discharge this work without his help. But see your son. _Sap._ Villain! _Anton._ Sir, I beseech you, Being so near our ends, divorce us not. _Theoph._ I'll quickly make a separation of them: Hast thou aught else to say? _Dor._ Nothing, but to blame Thy tardiness in sending me to rest; My peace is made with heaven, to which my soul Begins to take her flight: strike, O! strike quickly; And, though you are unmoved to see my death, Hereafter, when my story shall be read, As they were present now, the hearers shall Say this of Dorothea, with wet eyes, "She lived a virgin, and a virgin dies." [_Her head is struck off._ _Anton._ O, take my soul along, to wait on thine! _Mac._ Your son sinks too. [_Antoninus falls._ _Sap._ Already dead!