1 SERVANT.
How is it with my most afflicted Mistress?

WIFE.
Why do I now recover? Why half live?
To see my children bleed before mine eyes?
A sight able to kill a mothers breast
Without an executioner! what, art thou
Mangled too?

1 SERVANT.
I, thinking to prevent what his quick mischiefs
Had so soon acted, came and rusht upon him.
We struggled, but a fouler strength then his
O'er threw me with his arms; then did me bruize me
And rent my flesh, and robd me of my hair,
Like a man mad in execution;
Made me unfit to rise and follow him.

WIFE.
What is it has beguild him of all grace
And stole away humanity from his breast?
To slay his children, purpose to kill his wife,
And spoil his servants.

[Enter two guards.]

AMBO.
Sir, please you leave this most accursed place,