Mac.  Where are these gentlemen? sett ’em both to a Barre
And opposite, face to face:  a Confrontation
May perhaps daunt th’offender & draw from him
More then he’de utter.  You accuse your Brother
As murtherer of your father:  where’s the proofe?

Hen.  First call my fathers man in.

Clark.  What’s his name?

Hen. Buzzano.

Clark.  Call Buzzano in!

    Enter Buzzano.

Buz.  Here I am, here.

Clark.  Stand out:  whither goe you?

Buz.  To stand out.

Clark.  Stand there.

Mac.  Now what can he say?

Hen.  First, my Lord, heare mee:  My brother & I lying in one bed together, And he just under us—­

Buz.  In my fleabitten Trundle bed.[52]

Clark.  Peace, sirra.

Hen.  About midnight I awaking,
And this Buzzano too, my brother in his sleepe
Thus cryde out, “Oh, twas I that murtherd him,
This hand that killd him”!

Gyr.  Heard you this, sirra?

Buz.  As sure as I heare you now.

Alq.  And you’le be sworne ’twas he that so cryde out?

Buz.  If I were going to be hangd Ide sweare.

Clark.  Forbeare the Court.
                                  [Exit Buzzano.

Mac.  All this is but presumption:  if this be all
The shott you make against him your bullets stick
In a mud wall, or if they meete resistance
They backe rebound & fly in your owne face.

Med.  Bring your best forces up, for these are weak ones.

Hen.  Then here I throw my glove & challenge him
To make this good upon him:  that at comming home
He first told me my father dyed in France,
Then some hours after that he was not dead
But that he left him in Lorraine at Nancy,
Then at Chaalons in Burgundy, & lastly
He said to Don Fernando he was in Paris.

Fer.  He did indeed.

Mac.  What then?

Hen.  Then, when in’s chamber we were going to bed,
He suddenly lookd wild, catchd me by the hand
And, falling on his knees, with a pale face
And troubled conscience he confessed he killd him,
Nay, swore he basely murtherd him.

Mac.  What say you to this?

Alq.  Now he comes close up to you.

Man.  He is my murtherer
For I am none, so lett my Innocence guard me. 
I never spake with a distracted voice;
Nere fell to him on my knees; spake of no father,
No murtherd father.  He’s alive as I am,
And some foule divell stands at the fellowes elbow,
Jogging him to this mischefe.  The Villaine belyes me,
And on my knees, my lord, I beg that I
And my white Innocence may tread the path
Beaten out before us by that man, my brother. 
Command a case of rapiers to be sent for,
And lett me meete his daring.  I know him valiant;
But I am doubly armd, both with a Courage
Fiery as his can be, and with a cause
That spitts his accusation full in the face.