The sword, that slew you, should revenge your death;
For I should soon o'ertake you in the way,
To quit myself before you reached the shades,
And told your tale to Minos.
Cleom. Then I must hear; but swear, swear first, I charge thee,
That, when I have pronounced, thou wilt no more
Prolong thy prattle with some new excuse;
And pr'ythee cut it short, because I faint,
And long to kill thee first—Oh, I am going!
A rising vapour rumbles in my brains,