For your owne sakes (Poore Soules!) you had not best Beleeve, my fury was so much supprest I'th'heat of the last Scene, as now you may Boldly, and safely too, cry downe our Play! For if you dare, but Murmure one false Note, Here in the House, or going to take Bote; By Heav'n, I'le mowe you off, with my long Sword; Yeo'man, and Squire, Knight, Lady, and her Lord! With reason too; for since my whole part lies I'th' Play, to Kill the King's chiefe Enemies; How can you scape? (be your owne Judges) when You lay sad plots, to begger the Kings-Men.
