Do, spurn me, and this Hand thus justly arm'd,
Shall like a Thunder-bolt, breaking the Clouds,
Divide his Body from his Soul--stand back--
[_To the Guards_.
Spurn _Abdelazer_!--

_Phil_. Death, shall we bear this Insolence?

_Alon_. Great Sir, I think his Sentence was unjust.
[_To the_ King.

_Men_. Sir, you're too partial to be judge in this,
And shall not give your Voice.

_Abd_. Proud Cardinal--but he shall--and give it loud.
And shall not!--who shall hinder him?

_Phil_. This--and cut his Wind-pipe too.
[_Offers to draw_.
To spoil his whisp'ring.
[Abd. _offers to draw, his Attendants do the same_.

_King_. What means this Violence?
Forbear to draw your Swords--'tis we command.

_Abd_. Sir, do me Justice, I demand no more.
[_Kneels, and offers his Sword_.
And at your Feet we lay our Weapons down.

_Men_. Sir, _Abdelazer_ has had Justice done,