_Charl._ Uncle, for all the wealthy benefits My death advances you, grant me but this: Your mediation for the guiltless life Of Castabella, whom your conscience knows As justly clear as harmless innocence. _D'Am._ Freely. My mediation for her life And all my interest in the world to boot; Let her but in exchange possess me of The resolution that she dies withal. --The price of things is best known in their want. Had I her courage, so I value it: The Indies should not buy't out o' my hands. _Charl._ Give me a glass of water. _D'Am._ Me of wine.-- This argument of death congeals my blood. Cold fear, with apprehension of thy end, Hath frozen up the rivers of my veins.-- [Servant _brings him a glass of wine._ I must drink wine to warm me and dissolve The obstruction; or an apoplexy will Possess me.--Why, thou uncharitable knave, Dost thou bring me blood to drink? The very glass Looks pale and trembles at it. _Ser._ 'Tis your hand, my lord. _D'Am._ Canst blame me to be fearful, bearing still The presence of a murderer about me? [Servant _gives_ CHARLEMONT _a glass of water._ _Charl._ Is this water? _Ser._ Water, sir. _Charl._ Come, thou clear emblem of cool temperance, Be thou my witness that I use no art To force my courage nor have need of helps To raise my spirits, like those of weaker men Who mix their blood with wine, and out of that Adulterate conjunction do beget A bastard valour. Native courage, thanks. Thou lead'st me soberly to undertake This great hard work of magnanimity. _D'Am._ Brave Charlemont, at the reflexion of Thy courage my cold fearful blood takes fire, And I begin to emulate thy death. [Executioner _comes forward._ --Is that thy executioner? My lords, You wrong the honour of so high a blood To let him suffer by so base a hand. _Judges._ He suffers by the form of law, my lord. _D'Am._ I will reform it. Down, you shag-haired cur.[179] The instrument that strikes my nephew's blood Shall be as noble as his blood. I'll be Thy executioner myself. _1st Judge._ Restrain his fury. Good my lord, forbear. _D'Am._ I'll butcher out the passage of his soul That dares attempt to interrupt the blow. _2nd Judge._ My lord, the office will impress a mark Of scandal and dishonour on your name. _Charl._ The office fits him: hinder not his hand, But let him crown my resolution with An unexampled dignity of death. Strike home. Thus I submit me. [_Is made ready for execution._ _Cast._ So do I. In scorn of death thus hand in hand we die. _D'Am._ I ha' the trick on't, nephew. You shall see How easily I can put you out of pain.--Oh! [_As he raises up the axe he strikes out his own brains, and staggers off the scaffold._ _Exe._ In lifting up the axe I think he's knocked his brains out. _D'Am._ What murderer was he that lifted up My hand against my head? _1st Judge._ None but yourself, my lord.