Sign of some death which every other death
Sucks of its horrors, and proclaim to me
That it is Herod for whose sake ’tis done.
Alex.
Be you then the Death-Angel?
Sameas.
Or for him
Or for myself! I swear’t! Can I not hinder
This ghastly plan, my impotence I’ll punish
With murder of myself (with a gesture towards his breast) ere that day comes,