Phil. Who lifts his arme at him strikes at my brest.
Rod. Why have you thus ring'd me about with swords?
Phil. To shew thee thou must dye.
Rod. What have I done That thus you labour my destruction?
Pem. Thou wer't a party in all Burbons wrongs.
Ferd. Falsely term'd Ferdinand a Ravisher.
Pem. Set discord 'twixt these kings.
Phil. Practised my death.
Pem. Villayne for this our swords shall stop thy breath.
Ferd. Stand not to argue, let's all runne at him.