No such matter; it was _my_ doing. You shouldn't ha' ran at me in that fashion with a real sword--I thought it had been one o' your sham ones. MIDDLETON. Away! HEYWOOD. See! his face changes--lift him up! (_they raise and support him_) Here--place your hand upon his side--here, here-- Close over mine, and staunch the flowing wound! MARLOWE (_delirious_.) Bright is the day--the air with glory teems-- And eagles wanton in the smile of Jove: Can these things be, and Marlowe live no more! O Heywood! Heywood! I had a world of hopes About that woman--now in my heart they rise Confused, as flames from my life's coloured map, That burns until with wrinkling agony Its ashes flatten, separate, and drift Through gusty darkness. Hold me fast by the arm! A little aid will save me:--See! she's here! I clasp thy form--I feel thy breath, my love-- And know thee for a sweet saint come to save me! Save!--is it death I feel--it cannot be death? JACCONOT (_half aside_.) Marry, but it can!--or else your sword's a foolish dog that dar'n't bite his owner. MARLOWE. O friends--dear friends--this is a sorry end-- A most unworthy end! To think--O God!-- To think that I should fall by the hand of one Whose office, like his nature, is all baseness, Gives Death ten thousand stings, and to the Grave A damning victory! Fame sinks with life! A galling--shameful--ignominious end! (_sinks down_). O mighty heart! O full and orbed heart, Flee to thy kindred sun, rolling on high! Or let the hoary and eternal sea Sweep me away, and swallow body and soul! JACCONOT. There'll be no "encore" to either, I wot; for thou'st led an ill life, Master Marlowe; and so the sweet Saint thou spok'st of, will remain my fair game--behind the scenes. MARLOWE. Liar! slave! sla---- Kind Master Heywood, You will not see me die thus!--thus by the hand And maddening tongue of such a beast as that! Haste, if you love me--fetch a leech to help me-- Here--Middleton--sweet friend--a bandage here-- I cannot die by such a hand--I will not-- I say I will not die by that vile hand! Go bring Cecilia to me--bring the leech-- Close--close this wound--you know I did it myself-- Bring sweet Cecilia--haste--haste--instantly-- Bring life and time--bring heaven!--Oh, I am dying!-- Some water--stay beside me--maddening death, By such a hand! O villain! from the grave I constantly will rise--to curse! curse! curse thee! (_Rises_--_and falls dead_.) MIDDLETON. Terrible end! HEYWOOD. O God!--he is quite gone! JACCONOT (_aghast_.) 'Twas dreadful--'twas! Christ help us! and lull him to sleep in's grave. I stand up for mine own nature none the less. (_Voices without_) What noise is that? _Enter_ OFFICERS. CHIEF OFFICER. This is our man--ha! murder has been here! You are our prisoner--the gallows waits you! JACCONOT.