Orl. Out upon them rampallions. I'll keep my self safe enough out of their fingers, but what say my pritty jolly composed gallants that censure every thing more desperate than it is dangerous; what say they?
Lav. Marry they are laying wagers, what death you shall die; one offers to lay five hundred pounds; And yet he had but a groat about him, & that was in two twopences too to any man that wou'd make it up a shilling; that you were kil'd with a Pistoll charg'd with white Powder; another offerd to pawn his soul for five shillings, and yet no body wou'd take him, that you were stab'd to death, and shou'd die with more wounds than Cæsar.
Orl. And who shou'd be the Butchers that shou'd do it? Montague and his associates?
Lav. So 'tis conjectured.
La-p. And believe it, sweet Prince, it is to be feared, and therefore prevented.
Orl. By turning his purpose on himself, were not that the way?
Lav. The most direct path for your safety. For where doth danger sit more furious than in a desperate man?
La-p. And being you have declined his means, you have increast his malice.
Lav. Besides the generall report that steems in every mans breath, and stains you all over with infamy, that Time the devourer of all things cannot eat out.