Bra. Kill him? I think so; I'le kill any man For half the mony.
Leop. And will you ask more For a sound beating than a murther?
Bra. I Sir,
And with good reason, for a dog that's dead,
The Spanish proverb says, will never bite:
But should I beat or hurt him only, he may
Recover, and kill me.
Leo. A good conclusion,
The obduracie of this rascal makes me tender.
I'le run some other course, there's your reward
Without the employment.
Bra. For that as you please Sir; When you have need to kill a man, pray use me, But I am out at beating. [Exit.
Zab. What's to be done then?
Leop. I'le tell thee Zabulon, and make thee privy To my most near designs: this stranger, which Hippolyta so dotes on, was my prisoner When the last Virgin, I bestowed upon her, Was made my prize; how he escaped, hereafter I'le let thee know; and it may be the love He bears the servant, makes him scorn the Mistris.
Zab. 'Tis not unlike; for the first time he saw her
His looks exprest so much, and for more proof
Since he came to my Ladys house, though yet
He never knew her, he hath practis'd with me
To help him to a conference, without
The knowledge of Hippolyta; which I promis'd.
Leop. And by all means perform it for their meeting,
But work it so, that my disdainful Mistris
(Whom, notwithstanding all her injuries,
'Tis my hard fate to love) may see and hear them.
Zab. To what end Sir?