Away with me, all you whose souls abhor
Th' uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house;
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.

BIGOT.
Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there!

PEMBROKE.
There tell the king he may inquire us out.

[Exeunt LORDS.]

BASTARD.
Here's a good world!--Knew you of this fair work?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,
Art thou damn'd, Hubert.

HUBERT.
Do but hear me, sir.

BASTARD.
Ha! I'll tell thee what;
Thou'rt damn'd as black--nay, nothing is so black;
Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer:
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.

HUBERT.
Upon my soul,--