SCENE I.
Enter [104] Barabas and Ithamore. Bells within.
Bar. There is no music to [105] a Christian's knell: How sweet the bells ring now the nuns are dead, That sound at other times like tinkers' pans? I was afraid the poison had not wrought; Or, though it wrought, it would have done no good, For every year they swell, and yet they live; Now all are dead, not one remains alive.
Itha. That's brave, master, but think you it will not be known?
Bar. How can it, if we two be secret?
Itha. For my part fear you not.10
Bar. I'd cut thy throat if I did.
Itha. And reason too. But here's a royal monastery hard by; Good master, let me poison all the monks.
Bar. Thou shalt not need, for now the nuns are dead They'll die with grief.