Scæna Secunda.
Enter Petillius.
Pet. What do I ail, i'th' name of heaven I did but see her,
And see her die: she stinks by this time strongly,
Abominably stinks: she was a woman,
A thing I never car'd for: but to die so,
So confidently, bravely, strongly; Oh the devil,
I have the bots, by —— she scorn'd us strangely,
All we could do, or durst do; threatned us
With such a noble anger, and so governed
With such a fiery spirit ——; the plain bots;
A —— upon the bots, the love-bots: hang me,
Hang me even out o'th' way, directly hang me.
Oh penny pipers, and most painful penners
Of bountiful new Ballads, what a subject,
What a sweet subject for your silver sounds,
Is crept upon ye!
Enter Junius.
Jun. Here he is; have at him. [Sings.
She set the sword unto her Breast,
great pity it was to see,
That three drops of her Life-warm bloud,
run trickling down her knee.
Art thou there, bonny boy? and i'faith how dost thou?
Petil. Well, gramercie, how dost thou? h'as found me,
Sented me out: the shame the devil ow'd me.
H'as kept his day with. And what news, Junius?
Jun. It was an old tale ten thousand times told,
Of a young Lady was turned into mold,
Her life it was lovely, her death it was bold.