Cant. Wouldst call a villain son? A man condemned?
Whose headsman waits even now?
Ade. What has he done?
God does not lie, and 'twas his hand that writ
This countenance to mark a noble mind,
And not to be a villain's fair decoy.
Ah, murder him, but the same axe will strike
My life away, for never shall he go
From out my arms!
One of her women. Come, dearest lady.