 | The Sad One |  |
Scæn. 2.
Enter Clarimont solus.Break heart and burst! My Father murdered,
And in the midst of all his hopes of life!
Methinks I see millions of Furies stand
Ready to catch my Rages sacrifice:
O for a man that could invent more plagues
Then hell could hold—
I have conceiv'd of wrong, and am grown great
Already: O sweet Revenge! I humbly thee intreat
Be my Griefs midwife; let the mother die,
So thou bringst forth her long'd for progenie.
Methinks I feel the Villain grow within me,
And spread through all my veins:
How I could murder now, poison, or stab!
My head is full of mischief, sulphur and flaming pitch
Shall be but mercy to those deaths I'le give.
Exit.
| The Sad One | |