Lus. O, O!
Enter the other masque of intended murderers, step-sons, Bastard, and a fourth man, coming in dancing. The duke recovers a little in voice, and groans, calls, A guard! treason! at which they all start out of their measure, and, turning towards the table, they find them all to be murdered.
Spu. Whose groan was that?
Lus. Treason! a guard!
Amb. How now? all murder'd!
Sup. Murder'd!
4th Noble. And those his nobles?
Amb. Here's a labour sav'd;
I thought to have sped him. 'Sblood, how came this?
Spu. Then I proclaim myself; now I am duke.
Amb. Thou duke! brother, thou liest.