Gab. I shall die the better,
Thus let me seek my grave, and my shames with me.
Mar. Nor shalt thou go alone my noble Mistris:
Why should I live, and thou dead?
Lord. Save the wench there.
Mar. She is, I hope; and all my sins here written.
Duke. This was a fatal night.
Gent. Heaven has his working,
Which we cannot contend against.
Duke. Alas!
Gent. Your Grace has your alas too.
Duke. Would 't were equal;
For thou hast lost an honest noble childe.
Gent. 'T is heir enough has lost a good remembrance.