Serv. Shall we kill him?
Alber. No, I'll not be so unhospitable; but Sir,
By my life, I vow to take assurance from you,
That right hand never more shall strike my son.
Menti. That will be easily protested.
Alber. Not easily, when it must be exacted, and a bloody seal to't.
Bind him, and cut off's right hand presently:
Fair words shall never satisfie foul deeds.
Chop's hand off.
Menti. You cannot be so unrighteous, to your own honor.
Phy. O Sir, collect your self;
And recall your bloody purpose.
Alber. My intents of this nature, do ever come to action.
Chirur. Then I must fetch another stickler.— [Exit.
Alber. Yet I do grieve at heart;
And I do curse thy Father heartily,
That's the cause of my dishonor; sending thee
In such an hour, when I am apt for mischief:
Apt, as a Dutchman after a Sea-fight,
When his enemy kneels afore him; come dispatch.
Phys. Intreat him, Noble Sir.