murthered to [sic];
This toole shall write, subscribe, and seale their death
And send them safely to another world.
But then my sister, and my man at home,
Will not conceale it when the deede is done.
Tush, one for love, the other for reward,
Will never tell the world my close intent.
My conscience saith it is a damned deede
To traine one foorth, and slay him privily.
Peace, conscience, peace, thou art too scripulous [sic];
Gaine doth attend[6] this resolution.
Hence, dastard feare! I must, I can, I will,
Kill my best friend to get a bag of gold.
They shall dye both, had they a thousand lives;
And therefore I will place this hammer here,
And take it as I follow Beech up staires,
That suddenlie, before he is aware,
I may with blowes dash out his hatefull braines.—
Hoe, Rachell, bring my cloake; look to the house,
I will returne againe immediately.

Rach. Here it is brother, I pray you stay not long; Guesse[7] will come in, 'tis almost supper time. [Ex. Ra.

Mer. Let others suppe, ile make a bloudier feast
Then ever yet was drest in Merryes house.
Be like thy selfe then, have a merrie hart,
Thou shalt have gold to mend thy povertie,
And after this live ever wealthilie.

Then Merry must passe to Beeches shoppe, who must sit in his shop, and Winchester his boy stand by: Beech reading.

What, neighbour Beech, so godly occupied?

Beech. I, maister Merry; it were better reade, Then meditate on idle fantasies.

Mer. You speake the trueth; there is a friend or two Of yours making merry in my house, And would desire to have your company.

Beech. Know you their names?

Mer. No truely, nor the men. I never stoode to question them of that, But they desire your presence earnestlie.

Beech. I pray you tell them that I cannot come,
Tis supper time, and many will resort
For ware at this time, above all other times;
Tis Friday night besides, and Bartholomew eve,
Therefore good neighbour make my just excuse.

Mer. In trueth they told me that you should not stay, Goe but to drinke, you may come quick againe,— But not and if my hand and hammer hold. [(To the) people.

Beech. I am unwilling, but I do not care, And if I go to see the Company.

Mer. Come quickly then, they think we stay too long.

Beech. Ile cut a peece of cheese to drink withall.

Mer. I, take the farewell of your cutting knife,
Here is a hand shall helpe to cut your throate,
And give my selfe a fairing[8] from your chest.—
What are you ready, will you goe along?

Beech. I, now I am; boy, looke you tend the shoppe; If any aske, come for me to the Bull. I wonder who they are that aske for me.

Mer. I know not that, you shall see presentlie.
Goe up those staires, your friends do stay above.—
Here is that friend shall shake you by the head,
And make you stagger ere he speake to you.

    Then being in the upper Rome Merry strickes
    him in the head fifteene times.

Now you are safe, I would the boy were so;
But wherefore wish I, for he shall not live?
For if he doe, I shall not live myselfe.

[Merry wiped [sic] his face from blood.

Lets see what mony he hath in his purse.
Masse heres ten groates, heres something for my pains.
But I must be rewarded better yet.

Enter Rachell and Harry Williams.

Wil. Who was it, Rachell, that went up the staires?

Rach. It was my brother, and a little man Of black complexion, but I know him not.

Wil. Why do you not then carry up a light, But suffer them to tarry in the darke?

Rach. I had forgot, but I will beare one up. [Exit up.

Wil. Do so, I prethee; he will chide anon. [Exit.

[Rachell speaketh to her Brother.

Rach. Oh brother, brother, what have you done?

Mer. Why, murtherd one that would have murtherd me.

Rach. We are undone, brother, we are undone. What shall I say, for we are quite undone?

Mer. Quiet thy selfe, sister; all shalbe well. But see in any case you do not tell, This deede to Williams nor to any one.

Rach. No, no, I will not; was't not maister Beech?

Mer. It was, it is, and I will kill his man, [Exit Rach. Or in attempting doe the best I can.

Enter Williams and Rachell.

Wil. What was the matter that you cride so lowde?

Rach. I must not tell you, but we are undone.

Wil. You must not tell me, but we are undone! Ile know the cause wherefore we are undone. [Exit up.

Rach. Oh would the thing were but to doe againe! The thought thereof doth rent my hart in twaine. [She goes up.

Williams to Merry above.

Wil. Oh maister, maister, what have you done?

Mer. Why slaine a knave that would have murtherd me; Better to kill, then to be kild my selfe.

Wil. With what? wherewith? how have you slaine the man?

Mer. Why, with this hammer I knockt out his braines.

Wil. Oh it was beastly so to butcher him.
If any quarrell were twixt him and you,
You should have bad him meete you in the field,
Not like a coward under your owne roofe
To knock him downe as he had bin an oxe,
Or silly sheepe prepard for slaughter house.
The Lord is just, and will revenge his blood,
On you and yours for this extremitie.
I will not stay an hower within your house,
It is the wickedst deed that ere was done.

Mer. Oh, sir, content your selfe, all shall be well; Whats done already cannot be undone.

Rach. Oh would to God, the deed were now to do,
And I were privie to your ill intent,
You should not do it then for all the world.
But prethie, Harry, do not leave the house,
For then suspition will arise thereof,
And if the thing be knowne we are undone.

Wil. Forsake the house! I will not stay all night, Though you will give the wealth of Christendome.

Mer. But yet conceale it, for the love of God; If otherwise, I know not what to do.

Wil. Here is my hand, ile never utter it; Assure your selfe of that, and so farewell.

Mer. But sweare to me, as God shall help thy soule, Thou wilt not tell it unto any one.

Wil. I will not sweare, but take my honest worde,
And so farewell. My soule assureth me [Exit Merry and Rach.
God will revenge this damn'd iniquitie.
What shall become of me unhappie wretch?
I dare not lodge within my Maisters house,
For feare his murthrous hand should kill me too.
I will go walke and wander up and downe,
And seeke some