_1 Gent_.

The King starts back.

_Mar_.

His blood goes back as fast.

_2 Gent_. And now it comes again.

_Mar_.

He alters strangely.

_Arb_.

The hand of Heaven is on me, be it far from me to struggle, if my
secret sins have pull'd this curse upon me, lend me tears now to
wash me white, that I may feel a child-like innocence within my
breast; which once perform'd, O give me leave to stand as fix'd
as constancy her self, my eyes set here unmov'd, regardless of
the world though thousand miseries incompass me.

_Mar_.

This is strange, Sir, how do you?

_Arb_.

Mardonius, my mother.