Heroism

crown, My spirit shall hover for thee. Prithee, haste. Dorigen Stay, Sophocles⁠—with this tie up my sight; Let not soft nature so transformed be, And lose her gentler sexed humanity, To make me see my lord bleed. So, ’tis well; Never one object underneath the sun Will I behold before my Sophocles: Farewell; now teach the Romans how to die. Martius Dost know what ’tis to die? Sophocles Thou dost not, Martius, And, therefore, not what ’tis to live; to die Is to begin to live. It is to end An old, stale, weary work, and to commence A newer and a better. ’Tis to leave Deceitful knaves for the society Of gods and goodness. Thou thyself must part At last from all thy garlands, pleasures, triumphs, And prove thy fortitude what then ’t will do. Valerius But art not grieved nor vexed to leave thy life thus? Sophocles Why should I grieve or vex for being sent To them I ever loved best? Now I’ll kneel, But with my back toward thee; ’tis the last duty This trunk can do the gods. Martius Strike, strike, Valerius, Or Martius’ heart will leap out at his mouth. This is a man, a woman. Kiss thy lord, And live with all the freedom you were wont. O love! thou doubly hast afflicted me With virtue and with beauty. Treacherous heart, My hand shall cast thee quick into my urn, Ere thou transgress this knot of piety. Valerius What ails my brother? Sophocles Martius, O Martius, Thou now hast found a way to conquer me. Dorigen O star of Rome! what gratitude can speak Fit words to follow such a deed as this? Martius This admirable duke, Valerius, With his disdain of fortune and of death, Captived himself, has captivated me, And though my arm hath ta’en his body here, His soul hath subjugated Martius’ soul. By Romulus, he is all soul, I think; He hath no flesh, and spirit cannot be gyved;