[_The Revengers' dance: at the end steal out their_ _swords, and these four kill the four at the_ _table, in their chairs. It thunders._ VEN. Mark, thunder! Dost know thy cue, thou big-voic'd crier? Dukes' groans are thunder's watchwords. HIP. So, my lords, you have enough. VEN. Come, let's away, no lingering. HIP. Follow! go! [_Exeunt._ VEN. No power is angry when the lustful die; When thunder claps, heaven likes the tragedy. [_Exit_ VENDICE. LUS. O, O! _Enter the other masque of intended murderers, step-sons,_ _Bastard, and a fourth man, coming in_ _dancing. The duke recovers a little in voice, and_ _groans, calls_, A guard! treason! _at which_ _they all start out of their measure, and, turning_ _towards the table, they find them all to be murdered_. SPU. Whose groan was that? LUS. Treason! a guard! AMB. How now? all murder'd! SUP. Murder'd! 4TH NOBLE. And those his nobles? AMB. Here's a labour sav'd; I thought to have sped him. 'Sblood, how came this? SPU. Then I proclaim myself; now I am duke. AMB. Thou duke! brother, thou liest. SPU. Slave! so dost thou. 4TH NOBLE. Base villain! hast thou slain my lord and master? _Enter the first men._ VEN. Pistols! treason! murder! Help! guard my lord the duke! HIP. Lay hold upon these traitors. LUS. O! VEN. Alas! the duke is murder'd. HIP. And the nobles. VEN. Surgeons! surgeons! Heart! does he breathe so long? [_Aside._ ANT. A piteous tragedy! able to make[118] An old man's eyes bloodshot. LUS. O! VEN. Look to my lord the duke. A vengeance throttle him! [_Aside._ Confess, thou murd'rous and unhallow'd man, Didst thou kill all these? 4TH NOBLE. None but the bastard, I. VEN. How came the duke slain, then? 4TH NOBLE. We found him so. LUS. O villain! VEN. Hark! LUS. Those in the masque did murder us. VEN. La you now, sir-- O marble impudence! will you confess now? 4TH NOBLE. 'Sblood, 'tis all false. ANT. Away with that foul monster, Dipp'd in a prince's blood. 4TH NOBLE. Heart! 'tis a lie. ANT. Let him have bitter execution. VEN. New marrow! no, it cannot be express'd.[119] How fares my lord the duke? LUS. Farewell to all; He that climbs highest has the greatest fall. My tongue is out of office. VEN. Air, gentlemen, air. Now thou'lt not prate on't, 'twas Vendice murder'd thee. [_Whispers in his ear._ LUS. O! VEN. Murder'd thy father. [_Whispers._ LUS. O! [_Dies._