_Ot._ No more resist his fury, no rage can Add to his mischief done. [_Dyes._ _Sop._ Take spirit my _Otto_, Heaven will not see thee dye thus. _Mat._ He is dead, and nothing lives but death of every goodness. _Sop._ Oh he hath slain his Brother, curse him heaven. _Rol._ Curse and be cursed, it is the fruit of cursing, _Latorch_, take off here, bring too, of that blood To colour o're my shirt, then raise the Court And give it out how he attempted us In our bed naked: shall the name of Brother Forbid us to inlarge our state and powers? Or place affects of blood above our reason? That tells us all things good against another, Are good in the same line against a Brother. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Gisbert, Baldwin. _Gis._ What affairs inform these out-cries? _Aub._ See and grieve. _Gis._ Prince _Otto_ slain! _Bal._ Oh execrable slaughter! What hand hath author'd it? _Aub._ Your Scholars, _Baldwin_. _Bald._ Unjustly urg'd, Lord _Aubrey_, as if I, For being his Schoolmaster, must own this doctrine, You are his Counsellours, did you advise him To this foul parricide? _Gis._ If rule affect this licence, who would live To worse, than dye in force of his obedience? _Bal._ Heavens cold and lingring spirit to punish sin, And humane blood so fiery to commit it, One so outgoes the other, it will never Be turn'd to fit obedience. _Aub._ Burst it then With his full swing given, where it brooks no bound, Complaints of it are vain; and all that rests To be our refuge (since our powers are strengthless) Is to conform our wills to suffer freely, What with our murmurs we can never master; Ladys, be pleased with what heavens pleasure suffers, Erect your princely countenances and spirits, And to redress the mischiefs now resistless, Sooth it in shew, rather than curse or cross it; Which all amends, and vow to it your best, But till you may perform it, let it rest. _Gis._ Those temporizings are too dull and servile, To breath the free air of a manly soul, Which shall in me expire in execrations, Before for any life I sooth a murtherer. _Bal._ Pour lives before him, till his own be dry Of all lives services and humane comforts; None left that looks at heaven is half so base To do those black and hellish actions grace. _Enter_ Rollo, Lat. Ham. _and Guard_. _Rol._ Haste _Latorch_ And raise the Citie as the Court is rais'd, Proclaiming the abhor'd conspiracy In plot against my life. _Lat._ I haste my Lord. [_Exit._ _Rol._ You there that mourn upon the justly slain, Arise and leave it if you love your lives, And hear from me what (kept by you) may save you.