Har. Fliest thou,
Base coward? Tis not thy heels can save thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Albumazar, Pandolfo, Cricca.
Cri. O, O!
Pan. What ails thee, Cricca?
Cri. I am dead, I am dead.
Trouble yourself no more.
Pan. What! dead, and speak'st?
Cri. Only there's left a little breath to tell you.
Pan. Why, where art hurt?