Alq. And you'le be sworne 'twas he that so cryde out?
Buz. If I were going to be hangd Ide sweare.
Clark. Forbeare the Court. [Exit Buzzano.
Mac. All this is but presumption: if this be all
The shott you make against him your bullets stick
In a mud wall, or if they meete resistance
They backe rebound & fly in your owne face.
Med. Bring your best forces up, for these are weak ones.
Hen. Then here I throw my glove & challenge him
To make this good upon him: that at comming home
He first told me my father dyed in France,
Then some hours after that he was not dead
But that he left him in Lorraine at Nancy,
Then at Chaalons in Burgundy, & lastly
He said to Don Fernando he was in Paris.
Fer. He did indeed.
Mac. What then?
Hen. Then, when in's chamber we were going to bed,
He suddenly lookd wild, catchd me by the hand
And, falling on his knees, with a pale face
And troubled conscience he confessed he killd him,
Nay, swore he basely murtherd him.
Mac. What say you to this?