Phil. Mother—and Moor, farewel, I’ll visit you again; and if I do, My black Infernal, I will conjure you.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace.
Enter Abdelazer and Zarrack.
Zar. Osmin (my Lord) by this has done his Task, And Philip is no more among the living: Will you not rest to night?
Abd. Is this a time for Sleep and Idleness—dull Slaves?
Zar. The Bus’ness we have Order, Sir, to do, We can without your Aid.
Enter Osmin.
Abd. Osmin!
Thy ominous Looks presage an ill Success;
Thy Eyes no joyful News of Murders tell:
I thought I shou’d have seen thee drest in Blood—
Speak! Speak thy News—
Say that he lives, and let it be thy last.