Mal. Not half an hour since.
King. Mad now! now frantic!
When all my hopes are at the highest pitch
To enjoy her beauties! talk no more; thou liest.
[Enter Gazetto.
Gaz. May it please your Majesty—
King. Curses consume thee—oh—
[Strikes him.
Gaz. It is dispatch’d, the Queen is lost, never to be found.
King. Wave upon wave,