Dua. Fear not, I will be carefull. [Exeunt.
Enter Leopold, Zabulon, Bravo.
Zab. I have brought him Sir, a fellow that will do it Though Hell stood in his way, ever provided You pay him for't.
Leop. He has a strange aspect, And looks much like the figure of a hang-man In a table of the Passion.
Zab. He transcends
All precedents, believe it, a flesh'd ruffian,
That hath so often taken the Strappado,
That 'tis to him but as a lofty trick
Is to a tumbler: he hath perused too
All Dungeons in Portu[g]al, thrice seven years
Rowed in the Galleys for three several murthers,
Though I presume that he has done a hundred,
And scap't unpunisht.
Leop. He is much in debt to you, You set him off so well. What will you take Sir To beat a fellow for me, that thus wrong'd me?
Bra. To beat him say you?
Leop. Yes, beat him to lameness, To cut his lips or nose off; any thing, That may disfigure him.
Bra. Let me consider? Five hundred pistolets for such a service I think were no dear penniworth.
Zab. Five hundred! Why there are of your Brother-hood in the City, I'le undertake, shall kill a man for twenty.