Car. Peace! Good my lord, in death do not provoke her. 130
Isa. Servant,
Low as my destiny I kneel to thee,
[To Sago.
Honouring in death thy manly loyalty;
And what so e’er become of my poor soul,
The joys of both worlds evermore be thine.
Commend me to the noble Count Gniaca,
That should have shared thy valour and my hatred:
Tell him I pray his pardon, and—
Medina, art [thou] yet inspired from heaven?
Show thy Creator’s image: be like Him, 140
Father of mercy.
Med. Head’s-man, do thine office.
Isa. Now God lay all thy sins upon thy head,
And sink thee with them to infernal darkness,
Thou teacher of the furies’ cruelty!
Car. O madam, teach yourself a better prayer;
This is your latest hour.
Isa. He is mine enemy, his sight torments me;
I shall not die in quiet.
Med. I’ll be gone: off with her head there!
[Exit.