Enter Zarack.
Zar. My lord.
Ele. Where's Balthazar?
Zar. A-drumming.
Ele. I have made them rave and curse, and so guard her.
Your court shall be this prison; guard her, slaves,
With open eyes: defy me! see my veins
Struck't out, being overheated with my blood,
Boiling in wrath; I'll tame you.
Isa. Do, do.
Ele. Ha,
I will! and once more fill a kingdom's throne.
Spain, I'll new-mould thee: I will have a chair
Made all of dead men's bones; and the ascents
Shall be the heads of Spaniards set in ranks:
I will have Philip's head, Hortenzo's head,
Mendoza's head, thy mother's head, and this—
This head, that is so cross, I'll have't.
The scene wants actors; I'll fetch more, and clothe it
In rich cothurnal pomp: a tragedy
Ought to be grave: graves this shall beautify.
Moor, execute to th' life my dread commands;
Vengeance, awake, thou hast much work in hand.
[Exit.
Zar. I am weary of this office and this life;
It is too thirsty, and I would your blood
Might 'scape the filling out. By heaven, I swear,
I scorn these blows and his rebukes to bear.
Isa. O Zarack, pity me; I love thee well;
Love deserves pity; pity Isabel.