Lord Av. Ey, that will aske much breyne, much project.
Denis. Sir, Shall we poppe him in som privy?
Lord Av. Duble injurye,
To praye upon the soule and after deathe
Doo to the body such discoortesy;
It neather savours of a generous spyritt
Nor that which wee call manly.
Denis. Anythinge
For a quiett lyfe,[115] but this same wryneckt deathe,
That which still spoyles all drinkinge, 'tis a thinge
I never coold indure; as you are noble
Keepe still my wind pype open.
Lord Av. Out of many Museings[116] for boath our safetyes I have fownd One that's above the rest most probable.
Denis. What, what, I praye, Syr?
Lord Av. Interupt mee not:
Staye I should nowe begett a stratagem
To save myne owne lyfe, myne estate and goodds,
Ey, and secure thee too.
Denis. 'Twere excellent, Syr.
Lord Av. I have project for all these, as willingly To lengthen boathe our lyves, and limitt us Tyme to repent his deathe.
Denis. But howe, I praye, Syr?