ACT V.--SCENE I.

_Enter_ CASSANDRA _and_ SOSIBIUS.

_Sosib._ And what have you determined?

_Cas._ He shall die.

_Sosib._ A wholesome resolution. Have you fixed The time?

_Cas._ He daily dies, by hours and moments; All vital nourishment but air is wanting. Three rising days and two descending nights Have changed the face of heaven by turns, But brought no kind vicissitude to him; His state is still the same, with hunger pinched, Waiting the slow approaches of his death; Which, halting onwards, as his life goes back, Still gains upon his ground.

_Sosib._ But ere fate reach him, The mercy of the king may interpose. You have the signet?

_Cas._ Yes, in your despite.

_Sosib._ Be not displeased,--suppose he should escape?

_Cas._ Suppose he should have wings: impossible!

_Sosib._ Yet, keepers have been bribed. To whom can Ptolemy Impute that crime, but you?

_Cas._ He may; but let him if he dares.-- Come, statesman, do not shuffle in your pace; You would expose me to the people's hatred, By hurrying on this act of violence: You know a little thing provokes the crowd Against a mistress; she's the public mark: Therefore content yourself; I will be safe, Nor shall the prisoner die a speedier death, Than what my doom decreed; unless the king Reverse his orders, by my messenger.

_Sosib._ May I presume to ask you, whom you sent?

_Cas._ Thy son, unknown to thee; for so I charged him; And this the promised hour of his return.--Nay, wonder not; I chose him with design, that, whatsoe'er The king ordains, you both should share the event, And stand or fall with me. Ponder on that, and leave me!

_Sosib._ [_Aside._] What can she mean? She neither kills, nor saves. [_Exit_ SOSIBIUS.

_Cas._ Now tell me, heart, now answer for thyself! What wilt thou do, and what dost thou desire?-- His life? No, he's ungrateful; or, his death? I tremble at that word.--What then? His love!-- His love! my heart. What! by restraint and famine? Are these the means to compass thy design?-- Revenge! My hand's so soft, his heart so hard, The blow recoils, and hurts me while I strike. Like the mad viper, scourged into a rage, I shoot into myself my fatal sting.

_Enter Mariner._

_Mar._ The ship is ready, when you please to sail, And waits but your command: The wind stands fair.

_Cas._ Be secret, and attend my farther pleasure.-- [_Gives him a Purse, and exit Mariner._ So; this was time well managed: In three days To hire a vessel, put my wealth on board, Send off the observing son, and fool the father.-- See him I will, to sound his last resolves, If love can soften him, or fear can bow. If both should fail, the ungrateful wretch shall find Rage has no bounds in slighted womankind. [_Exit._