Rach. No, no, I will not; was't not maister Beech?
Mer. It was, it is, and I will kill his man, [Exit Rach. Or in attempting doe the best I can.
Enter Williams and Rachell.
Wil. What was the matter that you cride so lowde?
Rach. I must not tell you, but we are undone.
Wil. You must not tell me, but we are undone! Ile know the cause wherefore we are undone. [Exit up.
Rach. Oh would the thing were but to doe againe! The thought thereof doth rent my hart in twaine. [She goes up.
Williams to Merry above.
Wil. Oh maister, maister, what have you done?
Mer. Why slaine a knave that would have murtherd me; Better to kill, then to be kild my selfe.