Mother. Thy son slew mine, and I'll revenge his death.
Gov. Look, Katherine, look!—thy son gave mine these wounds.
Mother. O leave to grieve me, I am grieved enough.
Gov. O! that my sighs could turn to lively breath; And these my tears to blood, that he might live.
Mother. Who made them enemies?20
Gov. I know not, and that grieves me most of all.
Mother. My son loved thine.
Gov. And so did Lodowick him.
Mother. Lend me that weapon that did kill my son, And it shall murder me.
Gov. Nay, madam, stay; that weapon was my son's, And on that rather should Ferneze die.