Hor. O my true-breasted father, my ears
Have suck’d in poison, deadly poison:
Murder Andrea! O inhuman practice!
Had not your reverend years been present here,
I should have poniarded the villain’s bowels,
And shoved his soul out to damnation.
Murder Andrea! honest lord! impious villains!
Jer. I like thy true heart, boy; thou lov’st thy friend:
It is the greatest argument and sign,
That I begot thee, for it shows thou ’rt mine.