Wil. With what? wherewith? how have you slaine the man?
Mer. Why, with this hammer I knockt out his braines.
Wil. Oh it was beastly so to butcher him.
If any quarrell were twixt him and you,
You should have bad him meete you in the field,
Not like a coward under your owne roofe
To knock him downe as he had bin an oxe,
Or silly sheepe prepard for slaughter house.
The Lord is just, and will revenge his blood,
On you and yours for this extremitie.
I will not stay an hower within your house,
It is the wickedst deed that ere was done.
Mer. Oh, sir, content your selfe, all shall be well; Whats done already cannot be undone.
Rach. Oh would to God, the deed were now to do,
And I were privie to your ill intent,
You should not do it then for all the world.
But prethie, Harry, do not leave the house,
For then suspition will arise thereof,
And if the thing be knowne we are undone.
Wil. Forsake the house! I will not stay all night, Though you will give the wealth of Christendome.
Mer. But yet conceale it, for the love of God; If otherwise, I know not what to do.
Wil. Here is my hand, ile never utter it; Assure your selfe of that, and so farewell.
Mer. But sweare to me, as God shall help thy soule, Thou wilt not tell it unto any one.
Wil. I will not sweare, but take my honest worde,
And so farewell. My soule assureth me [Exit Merry and Rach.
God will revenge this damn'd iniquitie.
What shall become of me unhappie wretch?
I dare not lodge within my Maisters house,
For feare his murthrous hand should kill me too.
I will go walke and wander up and downe,
And seeke some rest, untill the day appeare.
At the Three Cranes,[9] in some Haye loft ile lye,
And waile my maisters comming miserie.