Hor. To wait on you;
So many great sins must not wait with few.
Queen-M. Keep me in prison! dare you, lords?
Alv. O no!
Were your cause strong, we would not arm you so;
But honour fainting needeth many hands;
Kingdoms stand safe when mischief lies in bands.
You must to prison.
[Exeunt.
Queen-M. Must I! must I! Slave,
I'll damn thee, ere thou triumph'st o'er my grave.
[Exit with a guard.
SCENE III.
Manet Eleazar.
Ele. Do, do, my jocund spleen
It does, it will, it shall. I have at one throw
Rifled away the diadem of Spain;
'Tis gone, and there's no more to set but this
At all. Then, at this last cast, I'll sweep up
My former petty losses, or lose all,
Like to a desperate gamester.