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That only way is left us to die free.
Cleom. All's lost for which I once desired to live. Panth. Come to our business then. Be speedy, sir, And give the word; I'll be the first, to charge The grim foe, death.
Cleom. Fortune, thou hast reduced me very low, To do the drudgery of fate myself. What! not one brave Egyptian! not one worthy To do me manly right in single combat! To fall beneath my fury?-for that's justice: But then to drag me after:-for, to die, And yet in death to conquer, is my wish. Clean. Then have your wish: The gods at last are kind,
And have provided you a sword that's worthy
Clean. Not such a foe, but such a friend am I.
Cleom. Then enter we into each other's breasts. 'Tis a sharp passage, yet a kind one too. But, to prevent the blind mistake of swords, Lest one drop first, and leave his friend behind, Both thrust at once, and home, and at our hearts: Let neither stand on guard, but let our bosoms Lie open to each other in our death,
As in our life they were.
Clean. I seal it thus.
[Kiss and embrace. Panth. And where's my part? You shut me out, like churls,
While you devour the feast of death betwixt you. Cleom. Cheer up thy soul, and thou shalt die, Pantheus,
But in thy turn; there's death enough for all.
But, as I am thy master, wait my leisure,
Cleom. Then this to our next happy meeting.
[They both push together, then stagger backwards, and fall together in each other's Arms. Clean. Speak, have I served you to your wish, my
Cleom. Yes, friend-thou hast I have thee in my heartSay -art thou sped?
Clean. I am,--'tis my last breath.
Cleom. And mine-then both are happy.
[Both die. Panth. So, this was well performed, and soon dispatched; Both sound asleep already,
And farewell both for one short moment.
[He falls on his Sword, and lies at the foot of
Enter SOSIBIUS, CASSANDRA, and Egyptians. Sosib. 'Twas what my heart foreboded: There he lies, Extended by the man whom best he loved! A better friend than son.
Cas. What's he, or thou? or Ptolemy? or Egypt? Or all the world, to Cleomenes lost?
Sosib. Then I suspected right. If my revenge Can ease my sorrow, this the king shall know, That thou may'st reap the due reward of treason, And violated love.
Cas. Thy worst, old dotard.
I wish to die; but if my mind should change,
Sosib. The king's arrival shall decide our fate.—
Let his armed figure on his tomb be set,
SPOKEN BY MRS BRACEGIRDLE.
THIS day, the Poet, bloodily inclined,
* William Fuller was an informer, who pretended, about this time, to make discovery of a formidable plot, by the Jacobites, against the government. But his luck was not so great as that of his prototype, Titus Oates; for the House of Commons finding him unable to produce the witnesses, to whom he referred for support of his tale, on the 24th February 1691, declared him "a notorious impostor, a cheat, and a false accuser, having scandalized their Majesties, and their government, abused this house, and falsely accused several persons of honour and quality." Fuller was prosecuted by the Attorney General for this offence, and punished by the pillory; notwithstanding which he did not profit by Mrs Bracegirdle's legacy, so as to make "his next plot more clear ;" for, in 1702, he was sentenced to the same painful elevation, for publishing an impudent forgery, concerning the birth of the Prince of Wales, son to James II.-See State Trials, vol. VI. p. 442; and the Jourmals of the House of Commons, for February 1691.
I give my judgment, craving all your mercies,
• Of Wickham I can learn nothing; but the nature of his imposture is easily to be gathered from the text.