Enter two [Murtherers] dragging in the Cardenall [of Loraine].
CARDINALL Murder me not, I am a Cardenall.
1 Wert thou the Pope thou mightst not scape from us.
CARDINALL What, will you fyle your handes with Churchmens bloud?
2 Shed your bloud, O Lord no: for we entend to strangle you.
CARDINALL Then there is no remedye but I must dye?
1 No remedye, therefore prepare your selfe.
CARDINALL Yet lives My brother Duke Dumaine, and many moe: To revenge our deaths upon that cursed King, Upon whose heart may all the furies gripe, And with their pawes drench his black soule in hell.
1 Yours my Lord Cardinall, you should have saide.
Now they strangle him.
So, pluck amaine, He is hard hearted, therfore pull with violence. Come take him away.
Exeunt.
