Enter ZENOCRATE, AGYDAS, ANIPPE, with others.
AGYDAS. Madam Zenocrate, may I presume
To know the cause of these unquiet fits
That work such trouble to your wonted rest?
'Tis more than pity such a heavenly face
Should by heart's sorrow wax so wan and pale,
When your offensive rape by Tamburlaine
(Which of your whole displeasures should be most)
Hath seem'd to be digested long ago.
ZENOCRATE. Although it be digested long ago,
As his exceeding favours have deserv'd,
And might content the Queen of Heaven, as well
As it hath chang'd my first-conceiv'd disdain;
Yet since a farther passion feeds my thoughts
With ceaseless and disconsolate conceits,
Which dye my looks so lifeless as they are,
And might, if my extremes had full events,
Make me the ghastly counterfeit of death.
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