Mar.
And now you take new rage into your eies,
As you would looke us all out of the Land.
Arb.
I doe confesse it, will that satisfie,
I prethee get thee gone.
Mar.
Sir I will speake.
Arb.
Will ye?
Mar.
It is my dutie,
I feare you will kill your selfe: I am a subject,
And you shall doe me wrong in't: tis my cause,
And I may speake.