Ven. Softly, my lord, and you may take 'em twisted.
Lus. I care not how.
Ven. O! 'twill be glorious
To kill 'em doubled, when they're heap'd. Be soft, my lord.
Lus. Away! my spleen is not so lazy: thus and thus
I'll shake their eyelids ope, and with my sword
Shut 'em again for ever. Villain! strumpet!
Duke. You upper guard, defend us!
Duch. Treason! treason!
Duke. O, take me not in sleep!
I have great sins; I must have days,
Nay, months, dear son, with penitential heaves
To lift 'em out, and not to die unclear.
O, thou wilt kill me both in heaven and here.
Lus. I am amaz'd to death.
Duke. Nay, villain, traitor,
Worse than the foulest epithet; now I'll gripe thee
E'en with the nerves of wrath, and throw thy head
Amongst the loyal[60] guard.
Enter Nobles and [Duchess's] Sons.