[Umbra] Friar. Back, coward murtherers, back!

Omnes. Defend us heaven! Exeunt all but the first.

First Murd. Come ye not on?

Buss. No, slave! nor goest thou off.

Stand you so firme?

[Strikes at him with his sword.]

Will it not enter here? 45

You have a face yet. So! in thy lifes flame

I burne the first rites to my mistresse fame.