Sal. The king hath dispossest himselfe of vs, We will not lyne his thin-bestained cloake With our pure Honors: nor attend the foote That leaues the print of blood where ere it walkes. Returne, and tell him so: we know the worst Bast. What ere you thinke, good words I thinke were best Sal. Our greefes, and not our manners reason now Bast. But there is little reason in your greefe. Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his priuiledge Bast. 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no mans else Sal. This is the prison: What is he lyes heere? P. Oh death, made proud with pure & princely beuty, The earth had not a hole to hide this deede Sal. Murther, as hating what himselfe hath done, Doth lay it open to vrge on reuenge Big. Or when he doom'd this Beautie to a graue, Found it too precious Princely, for a graue Sal. Sir Richard, what thinke you? you haue beheld, Or haue you read, or heard, or could you thinke? Or do you almost thinke, although you see, That you do see? Could thought, without this obiect Forme such another? This is the very top, The heighth, the Crest: or Crest vnto the Crest Of murthers Armes: This is the bloodiest shame, The wildest Sauagery, the vildest stroke That euer wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage Presented to the teares of soft remorse Pem. All murthers past, do stand excus'd in this: And this so sole, and so vnmatcheable, Shall giue a holinesse, a puritie, To the yet vnbegotten sinne of times; And proue a deadly bloodshed, but a iest, Exampled by this heynous spectacle Bast. It is a damned, and a bloody worke, The gracelesse action of a heauy hand, If that it be the worke of any hand Sal. If that it be the worke of any hand? We had a kinde of light, what would ensue: It is the shamefull worke of Huberts hand, The practice, and the purpose of the king: From whose obedience I forbid my soule, Kneeling before this ruine of sweete life, And breathing to his breathlesse Excellence The Incense of a Vow, a holy Vow: Neuer to taste the pleasures of the world, Neuer to be infected with delight, Nor conuersant with Ease, and Idlenesse, Till I haue set a glory to this hand, By giuing it the worship of Reuenge Pem. Big. Our soules religiously confirme thy words. Enter Hubert. Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you, Arthur doth liue, the king hath sent for you Sal. Oh he is bold, and blushes not at death, Auant thou hatefull villain, get thee gone Hu. I am no villaine Sal. Must I rob the Law? Bast. Your sword is bright sir, put it vp againe Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murtherers skin Hub. Stand backe Lord Salsbury, stand backe I say By heauen, I thinke my sword's as sharpe as yours. I would not haue you (Lord) forget your selfe, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Least I, by marking of your rage, forget Your Worth, your Greatnesse, and Nobility