Rod. Will none of ye obey?
Ped. What Devils vex ye?
The fears ye live in and the hourly dangers
Will be delights to these: those have their ends,
But these outlive all time, and all repentance:
And if it creep into your conscience once,
Be sure ye lock that close.
Rod. Why stand ye gazing?
Ped. Farewel sleep, peace, all that are humane comforts,
Better ye had been Trees, or Stones, and happier;
For those die here, and seek no further being,
Nor hopes, nor punishments.
Rod. Rots take ye, Rascals.
Jaq. What would you have us do?
Rod. Dispatch the prater.
Jaq. And have religious blood hang on our consciences?
We are bad enough already: sins enough
To make our graves even loath us.
Rod. No man love me?
Lop. Although I be a thief, I am no hangman;
They are two mens trades, and let another execute.
Lay violent hands on holy things?