Age. How black the day begins!
Dor. Can you blame it, and look upon such a deed as shall be done this morning?
Nis. Does the Prince suffer to day?
Dor. Within this hour they say.
Agen. Well, they that are most wicked are most safe: 'twill be a strange justice, and a lamentable, gods keep us from the too soon feeling of it.
Doria. I care not if my throat were next: for to live still, and live here, were but to grow [f]at for the Shambles.
Nis. Yet we must do it, and thank 'em too, that our lives may be accepted.
Age. Faith I'll go starve [my] self, or grow diseas'd to shame the hangman; for I am sure he shall be my Herald, and quarter me.
Dor. I, a plague on him, he's too excellent at Arms.