SCENE XXII.
Reading edition
Enter [423] two Murderers, dragging in the Cardinal. Card. Murder me not; I am a cardinal. First Murd. Wert thou the Pope thou might'st not scape from us. Card. What, will you file your hands with churchmen's blood? Sec. Murd. Shed your blood! O Lord, no! for we intend to strangle you. Card. Then there is no remedy, but I must die? First Murd. No remedy; therefore prepare yourself. Card. Yet lives my brother Duke Dumaine, and many mo, To revenge our deaths upon that cursèd king; Upon whose heart may all the Furies gripe,10 And with their paws drench his black soul in hell! First Murd. Yours, my Lord Cardinal, you should have said.— [They strangle him. So, pluck amain: He is hard-hearted; therefore pull with violence. Come, take him away. [Exeunt with the body.