[ACT THE SECOND.]
[SCENE I.]
Enter Rachell and Merry.
Rach. Oh my deare brother, what a heap of woe,
Your rashnesse hath powrd downe upon your head!
Where shall we hide this trumpet of your shame,
This timelesse ougly map of crueltie?
Brother, if Williams do reveale the truth,
Then brother, then, begins our sceane of ruthe.
Mer. I feare not Williams, but I feare the boy, Who knew I fetcht his maister to my house.
Rach. What, doth the boy know whereabouts you dwell?
Mer. I, that tormentes me worse than panges of hell:— He must be slaine to, else hele utter all.
Rach. Harke, brother, harke, me thinkes I here on[12] call.
Mer. Go downe and see; pray God my man keep close;
If he prove long-tongd then my daies are done.
The boy must die, there is no helpe at all;
For on his life my verie life dependes.
Besides I cannot compasse what I would,
Unlesse the boy be quicklie made away.
This that abridgde his haplesse maisters daies,
Shall leave such sound memorials one [sic] his head,
That he shall quite forget who did him harme,
Or train'd his master to this bloodie feast.—
Why, how now, Rachell? who did call below?
Enter Rachell.
Rach. A maide that came to have a pennie loafe.
Mer. I would a pennie loafe cost me a pound, Provided Beeches boy had eate his last.
Rach. Perchance the boy doth not remember you.
Mer. It may be so,—but ile remember him. [To people. And send him quicklie with a bloodie scrowle, To greete his maister in another world.
Rach. Ile go to Beeches on a faind excuse, To see if he will ask me for his maister.
Mer. No, get you up, you shall not stir abroade, And when I call, come quicklie to the dore.
Rach. Brother, or that, or any thing beside, To please your mind, or ease your miserie. [Exit.
Mer. I am knee-deepe, ile wade up to the wast,
To end my hart of feare, and to atteine
The hoped end of my intention.
But I maie see, if I have eyes to see,
And if my understanding be not blind,
How manie dangers do alreadie waight,
Upon my steppes of bold securitie.
Williams is fled, perchaunce to utter all;
Thats but perchance, naie rather flatlie no.
But should he tell, I can but die a death;
Should he conceale, the boy would utter it;
The boy must die, there is no remedie.
[The boy sitting at his maisters dore.
Win. I wonder that my maister staies so long; He had not wont to be abroade so late. Yonder comes one; I thinke that same is he.
Mer. I see the boye sits at his maisters doore. Or now, or never; Merry, stir thy selfe, And rid thy hart from feare and jealousie.— Thomas Winchester, go quicklie to your shoppe: What, sit you still? your maister is at hand.
[When the boy goeth into the shoppe Merrie striketh six blowes
on his head & with the seaventh leaves the hammer sticking in his
head; the boy groaning must be heard by a maide who must crye to
her Maister.
[Merrie flieth.
Mai. Oh God I thinke theres theeves in Beeches shop.
Enter one in his shirt and a maide, and comming to Beeches shop findes the boy murthered.
Nei. What cruell hand hath done so foule a deede,
Thus to bemangle a distressed youth
Without all pittie or a due remorse!
See how the hammer sticketh in his head,
Wherewith this honest youth is done to death!
Speak, honest Thomas, if any speach remaine:
What cruell hand hath done this villanie?
He cannot speake, his senses are bereft.
Hoe, neighbour Loney! pray come downe with speede,
Your tennant Beeches man is murthered.
Loney sleeping. What, would you have some mustard?
Nei. Your tennant Beeches man, is murthered.
Lo. Whose smothered, I thinke you lack your wit What, neighbor? what make[13] you here so late? [Out at a window.
Nei. I was affrighted by a sodaine crie, And comming downe saw maister Beeches man, Thus with a hammer sticking in his head. [Comes to win.
Loney. Ah wo is me for Thomas Winchester, The truest soule that ever maister had! Wheres maister Beech?
Neigh. Nay, no body can tell: Did you see any running from the dore, When you lookt out and heard the youngman crie?
Maid. Yes I saw two trulie to my thinking, but they ranne away as fast as their hands could beare them.—By my troth twas so darke I could see no bodie.—[To people. Praie God Maister Beech hath not hurt his boy in his patience and if he have he must be hangd in his choller.
Lo. I dare be sworne he would not strike him thus,
Praie God his Maister be not slaine himselfe.
The night growes late, and we will have this course
Be watch'd all night; to morrow we shall see
Whence sprang this strange uncivill crueltie.
Nei. Neighbour good night.
Lon. Neighbors all good night.
Ma. Praie God I never see so sad a sight.
[Exeunt omnes.
Enter Merry knocking at the doore, and Rachell comes downe.
Mer. Oh sister, sister, now I am pursu'd!
The mightie clamour that the boy did make,
Hath raisde the neighbours round about the street:
So that I know not where to hide my selfe.
Ra. What, brother! have you kild Beeches boy?
Mer. No, no, not I, but yet another hath. Come, come to bed, for feare we be descri'd: The fearfullest night that ever Merry knew!
[Exeunt.