Clark. Stand out: whither goe you?
Buz. To stand out.
Clark. Stand there.
Mac. Now what can he say?
Hen. First, my Lord, heare mee: My brother & I lying in one bed together, And he just under us—
Buz. In my fleabitten Trundle bed.[52]
Clark. Peace, sirra.
Hen. About midnight I awaking,
And this Buzzano too, my brother in his sleepe
Thus cryde out, "Oh, twas I that murtherd him,
This hand that killd him"!
Gyr. Heard you this, sirra?
Buz. As sure as I heare you now.