Thou answer’st not! Oh, heaven! thy looks are fraught
With prophecies of woe!
Gon. Alas! too true
The omens they reveal!
Mat. Of woe to whom?
Gon. Oh! why hath such a task of bitterness
Fallen to my lot?
Ant. Thou wouldst be pitiful,
And thou art cruel. Close this dread suspense;
Speak! I adjure thee, in the name of God!