Gun. And the same cup you taste.
Ses. Cut Cables then;
For I shall never sleep nor know what peace is,
Till I have pluckt her heart out;
All within. Oh main there. [Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.
Enter Ferrant, Ronvere, Castruccio, Villio, and Guard.
Ron. You are too gentle, Sir. [Flourish Cornets.
Fer. You are too careless:
The creatures I have made, no way regard me:
Why should I give you names, titles of honor,
Rob families to fill your private houses.
For your advancement, draw all curses on me,
Wake tedious winter nights, to make them happy
That for me break no slumber?
Ron. What we can,
We dare do.
Fer. Why is your Soverigns life then
(In which you live, and in whose fall your honors,
Your wealth, your pomp, your pride, and all must suffer)
No better guarded? Oh my cruel Stars,
That mark me out a King, raising me on
This pinnacle of greatness, only to be
The nearer blasting!