Olympia monologue (Act 3) — Tamburlaine the Great — Part 2

Death, whither art thou gone, that both we live? Come back again, sweet Death, and strike us both! One minute and our days, and one sepulchre Contain our bodies! Death, why com'st thou not Well, this must be the messenger for thee: [Drawing a dagger.] Now, ugly Death, stretch out thy sable wings, And carry both our souls where his remains.-- Tell me, sweet boy, art thou content to die? These barbarous Scythians, full of cruelty, And Moors, in whom was never pity found, Will hew us piecemeal, put us to the wheel, Or else invent some torture worse than that; Therefore die by thy loving mother's hand, Who gently now will lance thy ivory throat, And quickly rid thee both of pain and life.