Come, sir, though this show handsome in you, being his son, yet the law must have its course.
_Simon_.

And if I tell ye the law shall not have its course, cannot ye be content?
Courage, father; shall such things as these apprehend a man?
Which of ye will venture upon me ?--Will you, Mr.Constable self-elect?
or you, sir, with a pimple on your nose, got at Oxford by hard drinking, your only badge of loyalty?
_Gray_.

'Tis a brave youth--I cannot strike at him.
_Simon_.

Father, why do you cover your face with your hands?
Why do you fetch your breath so hard?
See, villains, his heart is burst! O villains, he cannot speak.

One of you run for some water; quickly, ye knaves; will ye have your throats cut?
[_They both slink off_.
How is it with you, Sir Walter?
Look up, sir, the villains are gone.
He hears me not, and this deep disgrace of treachery in his son hath touched him even to the death.