Marlowe (furiously).
Blast! blast and scatter
Thy body to ashes! Off! I'll have his ghost!
(rushes at Jacconot—they fight—Marlowe disarms him; but Jacconot wrests Marlowe's own sword from his hand, and stabs him—Marlowe falls)
Middleton.
Marlowe (clasping his forehead).
Who's down?—answer me, friends—is't I?—
Or in the maze of some delirious trance,
Some realm unknown, or passion newly born—