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Thou hast kindly done. I'll do a Boman justice — thou shalt die! Haste, and dispatch 'em both immediately. Whose death your cruelty, or fear, will show. Go, then, dispatch him first who was my son! Swear but to save his life, I'll "yield my own.
Nor tears, nor pray'rs, thy life, or his, shall buy. And, since he'll want defense when I am gone, I will, to save his life, defend my own. This justice parricides like thee should have! Villains, that death you have deserv'd is near! I were that parricide of whom he spoke, Did not my piety prevent your stroke. I am not with these shows of duty won.

Will you yet pardon my unwilling crime! By no intreaties, by no length of time,. I can no longer be your enemy: In short, now kill me, sir, or pardon me. In this your silence my hard fate appears. I'll answer you when I can speak for tears. But, till I can.
My heart's not made of marble, nor of brass. Did I for you a cruel death prepare, And have you, — have yon, made my life your earel There is a shame contracted by my faults. Which hinders me to speak my secret thoughts. And I will tell you (when that shame's, remov'd), You are not better by my daughter lov'd. And part of me was just to him before. Since by you I live, I, for your sake, your family forgive.

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