QUEN
I, I, 'tis I
Whose soul is torn in pieces, till I send
This harlot home.
CARDINAL
More murders! Save the Lady.
BALTHAZAR
Rampant? Let the Constable make a mittimus <60>.
MEDINA
Keep them asunder.
CARDINAL
How is it royal son?
KING
I feel no poison yet, only mine eyes
Are putting out their lights. Me thinks I feel
Death's icy fingers stroking down my face.
And now I'm in a mortal cold sweat.
QUEEN
Dear my Lord.
KING
Hence, call in my physicians.
MEDINA
Thy physician tyrant,
Dwells yonder, call on him or none.
KING
Bloody Medina, stab'st thou Brutus too?