D'Av. Guilt, thoughe it weare a smooth and peacefull face, Yet is within full of seditious thoughts That makes continuall follie. [Exit.
Enter Fryar Richard with Fryar Jhon upon his backe.
Fr. Rich. This is the porch that leades into the hall;
Heare rest for thyne and myne own better ease.
This havinge done, to prevent deathe and shame
By the same stepps I'l back the way I came.
[Fryer sett up and left. Exit.
Enter Denis half unredy.
Denis. This is the penalty belonges to servyce:
Masters still plott to theire owne private ends,
And wee that are theire slaves and ministers
Are cheef still in the troble; they ingrosse
The pleasure and the proffitt, and wee only
The swett and payne. My Lord hath doon a mischeef
And nowe I must not sleepe.—What art thou?
None of the howse sure, I should knwe thy face then:
Beesydes my Lord gives no such lyverye.
Nowe in the name of heaven, what art thou? speake,
Speake if thou beest a man! or if a ghost
Then glyde hence lyke a shadowe! tis the—oh!—
The fryar hathe nimbly skipt back over the wall,
Hath lyke a surly Justyce bensht himself
And sitts heare to accuse uss! where's my Lord?
Helpe, Helpe! his murdered ghost is com from Hell
On earth to cry Vindicta![143]
Enter L. D'Averne.
D'Av. What clamors this?
Denis. Oh Syr—
D'Av. Why, howe is't, Denis?