They dare but vtter the least syllable,
Or smallest title of inueteracie,
They shall not breathe a minute. Must a Prince
Be checkt, and schooled, pursued and scolded at,
For executing Iustice?
Nic. Royall, Sir.
Be pleased, to cast away these Discontents.
Iago’s sorrie for his bold offence.
The Queene repents her too, and all the Court
Is clowded o’r with griefe: your sadnesse, Sir,