Fall down upon thy knees, and ask forgiveness.
Lod. O! thou hast been a most prodigious comet;
But I’ll cut off your train: kill the Moor first.
Vit. Cor. You shall not kill her first; behold my breast;
I will be waited on in death: my servant
Shall never go before me.
Gasp. Are you so brave?
Vit. Cor. Yes, I shall welcome death
As princes do some great embassadours;
I’ll meet thy weapon half way.