Yet we must part.

 Aust. And think you to excuse

   A meditated wrong to excellence,

   By giving it acknowledgment and praise?

   Rather pretend insensibility;

   Feign that thou dost not see like other men;

   So may abhorrence be exchang'd for wonder,

   Or men from cursing fall to pity thee.

 Count. You strive in vain; no power on earth can shake me.

   I grant my present purpose seems severe,

   Yet are there means to smooth severity,

   Which you, and only you, can best apply.

 Aust. Oh no! the means hang there, there by your side:

   Enwring your fingers in her flowing hair,

   And with that weapon drink her heart's best blood;

   So shall you kill her, but not cruelly,

   Compar'd to this deliberate, lingering murder.

 Count. Away with this perverseness! Get thee to her;

   Tell her my heart is hers; here deep engrav'd

   In characters indelible, shall rest

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