[♦] Sec. Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal.
Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.
Sec. Murd. My voice is now the king’s, my looks mine own.
Clar. How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!
[165] Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale?
[♦] Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
[♦] Both. To, to, to—
[♦] Clar. To murder me?
[♦] Both. Ay, ay.
[170] Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,