Fer. Part them, part them!
Hen. Let me see his heart Panting upon my weapons point; then part us. Oh, pray, forbeare the roome.
Fer. Fy, Fy! two Brothers.
Two Eaglets of one noble Aery,
Pecke out each others eyes!—Welcome from France!
How does your honourd father?
Man. Well, my Lord: I left him late in Paris.
Hen. So, so; in Paris!
Hath he 3 bodyes? Lorraine, Burgundy, & Paris!
My Lord, his Highnes putts into your hand
A sword of Justice: draw it forth, I charge you
By the oath made to your king, to smite this Traytour,
The murtherer of my father!
Man. I?
Hen. Yes, thou: Thou, slave, hast bene his Executioner.
Man. Where? when?
Hen. There, there; in France.
Man. Oh heavenly powers!