But in thy brest if eny spark remaine Of thy dere love. If ever yet I coulde So moche of thee deserve, or at the least If with my last desire I may obtaine This at thy handes, geve me this one request And let me not spend my last breath in vaine. My life desire I not, which neither is In thee to geve nor in my self to save, Althoughe I wolde. Nor yet I aske not this As mercye for myne Erle in ought to crave, Whom I to well do knowe howe thou hast slayen. No, no, father, thy hard and cruell wronge With pacience as I may I will sustaine In woefull life which now shall not be longe. But this one suite, father, if unto me Thou graunt, though I cannot the same reacquite Th'immortall goddes shall render unto thee Thy due reward and largely guerdon it, That sins it pleased thee not thus secretly I might enjoy my love, his corps and myne May nathelesse together graved be And in one tombe our bodies both to shrine With which this small request eke do I praie That on the same graven in brasse thou place This woefull epitaphe which I shall saye, That all lovers may rue this mornefull case; Loe here within one tombe where harbor twaine Gismonda Quene and Countie Pallurine! She loved him, he for her love was slayen, For whoes revenge eke lyes she here in shrine. [GISMONDA _dieth_
TANCRED. O me alas, nowe do the cruell paines Of cursed death my dere daughter bereave. Alas whie bide I here? the sight constraines Me woefull man this woefull place to leaue.
TANCRED _cometh out of_ GISMOND'S _Chamber_.
TANCRED. O dolorous happe, ruthefull and all of woe Alas I carefull wretche what resteth me? Shall I now live that with these eyes did soe Beholde my daughter die? what, shall I see Her death before my face that was my lyfe And I to lyve that was her lyves decay? Shall not this hand reache to this hart the knife That maye bereve bothe sight and life away, And in the shadowes darke to seke her ghoste And wander there with her? shall not, alas, This spedy death be wrought, sithe I have lost My dearest ioy of all? what, shall I passe My later dayes in paine, and spende myne age In teres and plaint! shall I now leade my life All solitarie as doeth bird in cage, And fede my woefull yeres with waillfull grefe? No, no, so will not I my dayes prolonge To seke to live one houre sith she is gone: This brest so can not bende to suche a wronge, That she shold dye and I to live alone. No, this will I: she shall have her request And in most royall sorte her funerall Will I performe. Within one tombe shall rest Her earle and she, her epitaph withall Graved thereon shal be. This will I doe And when these eyes some aged teres have shed The tomb my self then will I crepe into And with my blood all bayne their bodies dead. This heart there will I perce, and reve this brest The irksome life, and wreke my wrathful ire Upon my self. She shall have her request, And I by death will purchace my desyre.