Thier. You are too much libertine.
Theod. The fortune of the fool perswades my laughter
More than his cowardize; was ever Rat
Ta'en by the tail thus? ha, ha, ha.
Thier. Forbear I say.
Prot. No eye looks this way, I will wink and strike,
Lest I betray my self. [Behind the State stabs Theodoret.
Theo. Ha, did you not see one near me?
Thier. How near you, why do you look so pale, brother?
Treason, treason.
Memb. Oh my presage! Father.
Ordella. Brother.
Mart. Prince, Noble Prince.
Thier. Make the gates sure, search into every angle
And corner of the Court, oh my shame! Mother,
Your Son is slain, Theodoret, noble Theodoret,
Here in my arms, too weak a Sanctuary
'Gainst treachery and murder, say, is the Traitor taken?