King. Dispatch, his voyce is horrid in our eares; Kill him, hurle all, and in him kill my feares.
Eugen. I would thy feares were ended.
King. Why thus delay you?
Dam. The stones are soft as spunges.
Anton. Not any stone here Can raze his skin.
Dam. See, Sir.
Cosmo. Thankes, heavenly preservation.
King. Mockt by a hell-hound!
Omnes. This must not be endur'd, Sir.
King. Unbinde the wretch; Naile him to the earth with Irons. Cannot death strike him? New studied tortures shall.