Oh, oh!

Nefretiri:

[Nefretiri is sorting through various veils and scarves]
This is for the temple ceremony... this is for my wedding night! Memnet:
You will never wear it. Nefretiri:
[surprised]
Why not? Memnet:
I have brought you a cloth more revealing... send them away. Nefretiri:
[nodding to her servants]
Go then, while I hear what this puckered old persimmon has to say. Memnet:
For thirty years, I have been silent. Now, all the kings of Egypt, cry out to me, from their tombs, "Let no Hebrew sit upon our throne." Nefretiri:
What are you saying? Memnet:
Rameses has the blood of many kings. Nefretiri:
And Moses? Memnet:
He is lower than the dust. Not one drop of royal blood flows through his veins. He is the son of Hebrew slaves. Nefretiri:
I'll have you torn into so many pieces, even the vultures wont find them. Who hatched this lie? Rameses? Memnet:
Rameses does not know, [three seconds] Memnet:
yet. Nefretiri:
You will repeat this to Bithiah. Memnet:
Bithiah drew a slave child, from the Nile, called him son and Prince of Egypt, blinding herself to the truth and the pain of an empty womb. Nefretiri:
Were you alone, with, Bithiah? Memnet:
A little girl led me to the Hebrew woman, Yochabel, that the child might be suckled by his true mother. Nefretiri:
Take care, old frog. You croaked too much, against Moses! Memnet:
Would you mingle the blood of slaves, with your own? Nefretiri:
He will be my husband. I shall have no other. [Memnet then shows Nefretiri the Hebrew cloth, she had been kept hidden, for thirty years. Memnet got it, when she and Bithiah, were alone] Memnet:
Then, use this, to wrap your firstborn. Torn from a Levite's robe. It was Moses' swaddling cloth. Nefretiri:
And your shrowd. Do you think I care whose son he is? Memnet:
Rameses cares. Nefretiri:
You won't live to tell him. Memnet:
[Memnet's final line, as Nefretiri pushed her off the roof, in anger and killing her]
Oh, oh!