Boy. Then to your self Sir, comes this Letter.
Mer. From whom my pretty boy?
Boy. From him that was your servant, but no more
Shall that name ever be, for he is dead,
Grief of your purchas'd anger broke his heart,
I saw him dye, and from his hand receiv'd
This paper with a charge to bring it hither,
Read it, and satisfie your self in all.
LETTER.
Merch. Sir that I have wronged your love, I must confess, in which I have purchast to my self, besides mine own undoing, the ill opinion of my friends, let not your anger, good Sir, outlive me, but suffer me to rest in peace with your forgiveness; let my body (if a dying man may so much prevail with you) be brought to your daughter, that she may [truely] know my hot flames are now buried, and withall, receive a testimony of the zeal I bore her virtue: farewell for ever, and be ever happy.
Jasper.
Gods hand is great in this, I do forgive him,
Yet am I glad he's quiet, where I hope
He will not bite again: boy bring the bo[d]y,
And let him have his will, if that be all.
Boy. 'Tis here without Sir.
Mer. So Sir, if you please
You may conduct it in, I do not fear it.
Hum. I'll be your Usher boy, for though I say it,
He ow'd me something once, and well did pay it. [Exeunt.