Each wind stir up against thee, fiend! the ashes
Of her whom yesternight you gave the flames?
Slay thee, thou fool! Why, now, what devil is it
That palters with thee, to believe that thou
Canst do such deeds and live!
Say. I am unarmed;
'Twere craven thus to strike me at advantage.
Aylmere (with a scornful laugh and throwing away the dagger).
Why, so it were! Hence, toy!
But those the tiger hath against thee!—Now