Bea. And that ’twas but a plot betwixt them two.
Tyse. O, ay, ay, he gaged his life with it; but know,
When all approach’d the test, Shatewe[104] denied
He saw or heard of any such complot,
Or of Freevill; so that his own defence
Appeared so false, that, like a madman’s sword,
He stroke his own heart; he hath the course of law,
And instantly must suffer. But the jest
(If hanging be a jest, as many make it) 110
Is to take notice of one Mulligrub,
A sharking vintner.
Free. What of him, sir?
Tyse. Nothing but hanging: the whoreson slave is mad before he hath lost his senses.
Free. Was his fact[105] clear and made apparent, sir?
Tyse. No, faith, suspicious; for ’twas thus protested:
A cloak was stol’n; that cloak he had; he had it,
Himself confess’d, by force; the rest of his defence
The choler of a justice wronged in wine, 120
Join’d with malignance of some hasty jurors,
Whose wit was lighted by the justice’ nose;
The knave was cast.
But, Lord, to hear his moan, his prayers, his wishes,
His zeal ill-timèd, and his words unpitied,
Would make a dead man rise and smile,
Whilst he observed how fear can make men vile.
Cri. Shall we go meet the execution?
Bea. I shall be ruled by you.
Tyse. By my troth, a rare motion;[106] you must haste,
For malefactors goes like the world, upon wheels. 130