_Theoph._ Art posting to thy centre? down, hell-hound! down! Me thou hast lost. That arm, which hurls thee hence, [_Harpax disappears._ Save me, and set me up, the strong defence In the fair Christian quarrel! _Enter_ ANGELO. _Ang._ Fix thy foot there, Nor be thou shaken with a Cæsar's voice, Though thousand deaths were in it; and I then Will bring thee to a river, that shall wash Thy bloody hands clean and more white than snow; And to that garden where these blest things grow, And to that martyr'd virgin, who hath sent That heavenly token to thee: spread this brave wing, And serve, than Cæsar, a far greater king. [_Exit._ _Theoph._ It is, it is, some angel. Vanish'd again! Oh, come back, ravishing boy! bright messenger! Thou hast, by these mine eyes fix'd on thy beauty, Illumined all my soul. Now look I back On my black tyrannies, which, as they did Outdare the bloodiest, thou, blest spirit, that lead'st me, Teach me what I must do, and, to do well, That my last act the best may parallel[57]. [_Exit._ FOOTNOTES: [47] Speaking of the remainder of this act, Gifford says, "there may be (and probably are) finer passages in our dramatic poets, but I am not acquainted with them." [48] Mac. _Strange affection! Cupid once more hath changed his shafts with Death, And kills, instead of giving life._] This is a beautiful allusion to a little poem among the _Elegies_ of Secundus. Cupid and Death unite in the destruction of a lover, and in endeavouring to recover their weapons from the body of the victim, commit a mutual mistake, each plucking out the "shafts" of the other. The consequences of this are prettily described: _Missa peregrinis sparguntur vulnera nervis, Et manus ignoto sævit utrinque malo. Irrita Mors arcus validi molimina damnat, Plorat Amor teneras tam valuisse manus; Foedabant juvenes primus in pulvere malas Oscula quas, heu, ad blanda vocabat Amor. Canicies vernis florebat multa corollis Persephone crinem vulserat unde sibi. Quid facerent? falsas procul abjecere sagittas, De pharetra jaculum prompsit uterque novum. Res bona! sed virus pueri penetravit in arcum; Ex illo miseros tot dedit ille neci._ Lib. ii. Eleg. 6. The fable, however, is very ancient.--GIFFORD. [49] _Apostata._] Our old writers usually said, _apostata, statua_, &c. where we now say, _apostate, statue_. [50] _Which did require a Hercules to get it._] This beautiful description of Elysium, as Mr. Gilchrist observes to me, has been imitated by Nabbes, in that very poetic rhapsody, _Microcosmus_: some of the lines may be given: