Ag. What sodaine chaunce thee towards vs hath brought?
Dir. A lamentable chance. O wrath of heau’ns!
O Gods too pittiles! Cæs. What monstrous happ
Wilt thou recount? Dir. Alas too hard mishapp!
When I but dreame of what mine eies beheld,
My hart doth freeze, my limmes do quiuering quake,
I senceles stand, my brest with tempest tost
Killes in my throte my wordes, ere fully borne.
Dead, dead he is: be sure of what I say,
This murthering sword hath made the man away.