[Evadne rises.]

     Hadst thou been thus, thus excellently good,
     Before that devil-king tempted thy frailty,
     Sure thou hadst made a star.  Give me thy hand: 
     From this time I will know thee; and as far
     As honor gives me leave, be thy Amintor. 
     When we meet next, I will salute thee fairly,
     And pray the gods to give thee happy days: 
     My charity shall go along with thee,
     Though my embraces must be far from thee. 
     I should have killed thee, but this sweet repentance
     Locks up my vengeance:  for which thus I kiss thee—­

     [Kisses her.]

     The last kiss we must take; and would to Heaven
     The holy priest that gave our hands together
     Had given us equal virtues!  Go, Evadne;
     The gods thus part our bodies.  Have a care
     My honor falls no farther:  I am well, then.

Evadne—­All the dear joys here, and above hereafter, Crown thy fair soul!  Thus I take leave, my lord; And never shall you see the foul Evadne, Till she have tried all honored means, that may Set her in rest and wash her stains away.

     FROM ‘BONDUCA’

     THE DEATH OF THE BOY HENGO

     [Scene:  A field between the British and the Roman camps.]

     Caratach—­How does my boy?

     Hengo—­I would do well; my heart’s well;
     I do not fear.

     Caratach—­My good boy!

Hengo—­I know, uncle, We must all die:  my little brother died; I saw him die, and he died smiling; sure, There’s no great pain in’t, uncle.  But pray tell me, Whither must we go when we are dead?

     Caratach [aside]—­Strange questions! 
     Why, the blessed’st place, boy! ever sweetness
     And happiness dwell there.

     Hengo—­Will you come to me?

     Caratach—­Yes, my sweet boy.

     Hengo—­Mine aunt too, and my cousins?

     Caratach—­All, my good child.

     Hengo—­No Romans, uncle?

     Caratach—­No, boy.

     Hengo—­I should be loath to meet them there.

     Caratach—­No ill men,
     That live by violence and strong oppression,
     Come thither:  ’tis for those the gods love, good men.

Hengo—­Why, then, I care not when I go, for surely I am persuaded they love me:  I never Blasphemed ’em, uncle, nor transgressed my parents; I always said my prayers.

     Caratach—­Thou shalt go, then;
     Indeed thou shalt.

     Hengo—­When they please.

     Caratach—­That’s my good boy! 
     Art thou not weary, Hengo?

     Hengo—­Weary, uncle! 
     I have heard you say you have marched all day in armor.