60 About it; for it stands me much upon,
[♦] To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. [Exit Catesby.
[♦] I must be married to my brother’s daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.
[♦] Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
65 Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
[♦] So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin:
[♦] Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.
Re-enter Page, with TYRREL.
Is thy name Tyrrel?