[SCENE IV.]
Enter three or foure neighbours together.
1 Neigh. Neighbours, tis bruted all about the towne
That Robert Beech, a honest Chaundelor,
Had his man deadly wounded yester night,
At twelve a clock, when all men were a sleepe.
2. Where was his maister, when the deed was done?
3. No man can tell, for he is missing to,
Some men suspect that he hath done the fact,
And that for feare the man is fled away;
Others, that knew his honest harmlesse life,
Feare that himselfe is likewise made away.
4. Then let commaundement every where be given,
That sinkes and gutters, privies, crevises,
And every place where blood may be conceald,
Be throughly searcht, swept, washt, and neerely sought,
To see if we can finde the murther out.
And least that Beech be throwne into the Thames,
Let charge be given unto the watermen
That, if they see the body of a man,
Floting in any place about the Thames,
That straight they bring it unto Lambert Hill,
Where Beech did dwell when he did live in health.
1 Neigh. Ile see this charge performd immediatly.
4. Now let us go to Maister Beeches shop, [Exit. To see if that the boy can give us light, Of those suspitions which this cause doth yeeld.
2. This is the house; call Maister Loney forth.
3. Hoe, Maister Loney! doth the boy yet live?
Enter Loney.
Or can he utter who hath done him wrong.
Lo. He is not dead but hath a dying life, For neither speech, nor any sense at all, Abideth in the poore unhappie youth.
4. Here [sic] you of anie where his Maister is?
Lo. No, would we could; we all, that knew his life, Suspect him not for any such offence.
4. Bring forth the boy, that we may see his wounds.
[Bringes him forth in a chaire with a hammer sticking in his head.
What say the Surgeons to the youngmans woundes?
Lo. They give him over, saying everie wound, Of sixe, whereof theres seav'n in his head, Are mortall woundes and all incurable.
[They survey his woundes.
Enter Merrie and Williams.
Mer. How now, good Harry, hast thou hid my fault?
The boy that knew I train'd his Maister forth,
Lies speechlesse, and even at the point of death.
If you prove true, I hope to scape the brunt.
Will. Whie, feare not me, I have conceal'd it yet, And will conceale it, have no doubt of me.
Mer. Thanks, gentle Harry, thou shalt never lacke;
But thou and I will live as faithfull friendes,
And what I have, shalbe thine owne to use.
There is some monie for to spend to-day,
I know you meane to goe and see the faire.
Will. I faine would go, but that I want a cloake.
Mer. Thou shalt not want a cloake, or ought beside,
So thou wilt promise to be secret. [Gives him his cloake.
Here, take my Cloake, ile weare my best my selfe.
But where did you lie this last night?
Wil. At the three Cranes, in a Carmans hay loft, But ile have better lodging soone at night.
Mer. Thou wilt be secret. I will go and see, [Exit Willi.
What stir they keepe about Beeches shop,
Because I would avoyde suspition. [Go to them.
God save you, Gentlemen! is this the boy
That is reported to be murthered?
4. He is not dead outright, but pleas'd it God, Twere better he had left this wicked world, Then to live thus in this extremitie.
Mer. A cruell hand no doubt that did the deede. Whie pull you not the hammer from his head?
4. That must not be before the youth be dead,
Because the crowner and his quest may see,
The manner how he did receive his death.
Beare hence the bodie, and endevor all,
To finde them out that did the villanie.
[Exeunt omnes: manet Merrie.
Mer. Do what you can, cast all your wits about,
Rake kennells, gutters, seeke in everie place,
Yet I will overgoe your cunning heads,
If Williams and my sister hold their tongues.
My neighbours holdes not me in least suspect,
Weighing of my former conversation.
Were Beeches boy well conveid awaie,
Ide hope to overblow this stormie day.
[Exit.
[SCENE V.]
Enter Falleria, Sostrata, Allenso, Pertillo, and two Murtherers booted.
Fall. Now little cooze, you are content to goe,
From me your Unckle and your loving Aunt,
Your faithfull cozen, and your dearest friendes:
And all to come to be a skilfull man,
In learned artes and happy sciences?
Per, I am content, because it pleaseth you.
My father bid I should obey your will,
And yeelde my selfe to your discretion:
Besides my cozen gave me yesternight,
A prettie nag to ride to Padua.
Of all my friends Allenso loves me best.
Fall. I thinke thou art inspir'd with prophesie: [To the people. He loves thee better then I would he did.— Why, wherefore think you so, my prettie Nephew?
Per. Because he taught me how to say my prayers,
To ride a horse, to start the fearfull hare.
He gave this dagger to me yester night,
This little Ring, and many pretie things;
For which, kind cooze, I rest your true debtor,
And one day I will make you recompence.
Fall. I, with thy lands and goods thou leav'st behinde.
Allen. Pray, father, let me go along with him.— Now, by the Saviour of my sinfull soule, [To the people. I do not like those fellowes countenance.
Fall. Sonne be content, weele go a seavenight hence,
And see him in his universitie weedes.
These will conduct him safely to the place;
Be well assured they'l have a care of him—
That you shall never see Pertillo more. [To the people.
Allen. Father, I pray you to withdraw your selfe, Ide have a word or two in secresie.
[They speake together.
Sost. Come living image of thy dead mother,
And take my loving farewell, ere we part.
I love thee dearly for thy fathers sake,
But for thy mothers dote with jealousie.
Oh I do feare, before I see thy face,
Or thou or I shall taste of bitternesse.
Kisse me, sweete boy, and, kissing, folde thine Aunte
Within the circle of thy little armes.
I neede not feare, death cannot offer wrong;
The majestie of thy presaging face,
Would vanquish him, though nere so terrible.
The angry Lionesse that is bereav'd
Of her imperious crew of forrest kings,
Would leave her furie, and defend thee safe
From Wolves, from Panthers, Leopards, and Shee Beares,
That live by rapine, stealth and crueltie.
Therefore to God I do commend thy state,
Who will be sure to guard thee tenderly.
And now to you, that carry hence this wealth,
This precious Jewell, this unprized good,
Have a regarde to use him carefully,
When he is parted from that serious care,
Which was imployde for his securitie.
I urge it not, that I misdoubt your truth;
I hope his Unckle doth perswade himselfe
You will be courteous, kinde, and affable.
Ther's some rewarde for hoped carefulnesse.
Allen. Now by my soule I do suspect the men,
Especially the lower of the two:
See, what a hollow discontented looke
He casts, which brings apparant cause of feare:
The other, though he seeme more courteous,
Yet dooth his lookes presadge this thought in me.
As if he scorn'd to thinke on courtesie.
Fall. Upon my life, my sonne you are to blame,
The gentlemen are honest, vertuous,
And will protect Pertillo happily.
These thoughts proceed out of aboundant love,
Because you grieve to leave his company.
If ought betide him otherwise then well,
Let God require due vengaunce on my head,
And cut my hopes from all prosperitie.
Allen. A heavie sentence, full of wondrous feare:
I cannot choose but credit such a vowe.
Come hether then, my joy, my chiefest hopes,
My second selfe, my earthly happinesse,
Lend me thy little prety cherry lip,
To kisse me, cozen; lay thy little hand
Upon my cheeke, and hug me tenderly.
Would the cleere rayes of thy two glorious sunnes
Could penetrate the corners of my heart,
That thou might see how much I tender thee.
My friends, beholde, within this little bulke
Two perfect bodyes are incorporate;
His life holdes mine, his heart conteines my hart,
His every lim containes my every part;
Without his being I can never be,
He being dead, prepare to bury me.
Oh thou immortall mover of the spheares
Within their circled revolusions,
Whose glorious image this small orphant beares,
Wrought by thy all-sufficient majestie,
Oh never suffer any wicked hand
To harme this heavenly workmanship of thine,
But let him live, great God, to honor thee
With vertuous life and spotlesse pietie!
Per. Cease, my kind cooze; I cannot choose but weepe, To see your care of my securitie.
Allen.—Knewst thou my reason, that perswades my hart,
Thou wouldst not wonder, why I grieve to part:
But yet I would suspect my fathers vowe,
Did any other make it by your leave.
Fall. What have you done? this lothnesse to depart,
Seemes you were trained up in tediousnesse,
Thou knowst not when and where to make an end.
Take him my friends, I know you will discharge
The hope and trust that I repose in you.
Both. Assure your selfe, in every circumstance.
Fall. Then to your horses quicklie, speedily, Else we shall put our fingers in the eye, And weepe for kindnesse till tomorrow morne.
Per. Farewell good Unckle, Aunt, and loving cooze.
[Sostratus [sic] kisseth the boy weeping.
Allen. Farewell.—I fear me everlastinglie.
[Exeunt Sostratus and Allenso.
[One of the Murtherers takes Falleria by the sleeve.
1 mu. You meane not now to have him murthered?
Fall. Not murthered, what else? kill him, I say: But wherefore makes thou question of my will?
Mur. Because you wisht that God should be revenged, If any ill betide the innocent.
Fall. Oh that was nothing but to blind the eyes Of my fond sonne, which loves him too too well.
Mer. It is enough, it shall be surely done.
[Exeunt om.
[SCENE VI.]
Enter Merry and Rachel with a bag.
Mer. What, hast thou sped? have you bought the bag?
Rach. I, brother, here it is; what is't to do?
Mer. To beare hence Beeches body in the night.
Rach. You cannot beare so great a waight your selfe, And tis no trusting of another man.
Mer. Yes well enough, as I will order it.
Ile cut him peece-meale; first his head and legs
Will be one burthen; then the mangled rest,
Will be another, which I will transport,
Beyond the water in a Ferryboate,
And throw it into Paris-garden ditch,[16]
Fetch me the chopping knife, and in the meane
Ile move the fagots that do cover him.
[Remove the Fagots.
Rach. Oh can you finde in hart to cut and carve, His stone-colde flesh, and rob the greedy grave, Of his dissevered blood-besprinkled lims?
Mer. I, mary can I:—fetch the chopping knife.
Rach. This deed is worse, then when you took his life. [Exit.
Mer. But worse, or better, now it must be so, Better do thus than feele a greater woe.
Enter Rach.
Here is the knife, I cannot stay to see
This barbarous deed of inhumanitie. [Exit Rachel.
[Merry begins to cut the body, and bindes the armes behinde his back with Beeches garters; leaves out the body, covers the head and legs againe.
Enter Truth.
Yee glorious beames of that bright-shining lampe
That lights the starre-bespangled firmament,
And dimnes the glimmering shadowes of the night,
Why doost thou lend assistance to this wretch,
To shamble forth with bold audacitie
His lims, that beares thy makers semblance!
All you the sad spectators of this Acte,
Whose harts do taste a feeling pensivenesse
Of this unheard of, savadge massacre,
Oh be farre of to harbour such a thought
As this audacious murtherer put in ure![17]
I see your sorrowes flowe up to the brim,
And overflowe your cheekes with brinish teares,
But though this sight bring surfet to the eye,
Delight your eares with pleasing harmonie,[18]
That eares may counterchecke your eyes, and say,
Why shed you teares, this deede is but a playe?
His worke is done, he seekes to hide his sinne;
Ile waile his woe before his woe begin. [Exit Trueth.
Mer. Now will I high me to the water side,
And fling this heavie burthen in a ditche,
Whereof my soule doth feele so great a waight
That it doth almost presse me downe with feare.