[Exeunt.
[ACT THE SECOND.]
[SCENE I.]
Enter Rachell and Merry.
Rach. Oh my deare brother, what a heap of woe,
Your rashnesse hath powrd downe upon your head!
Where shall we hide this trumpet of your shame,
This timelesse ougly map of crueltie?
Brother, if Williams do reveale the truth,
Then brother, then, begins our sceane of ruthe.
Mer. I feare not Williams, but I feare the boy, Who knew I fetcht his maister to my house.
Rach. What, doth the boy know whereabouts you dwell?
Mer. I, that tormentes me worse than panges of hell:— He must be slaine to, else hele utter all.
Rach. Harke, brother, harke, me thinkes I here on[12] call.
Mer. Go downe and see; pray God my man keep close;
If he prove long-tongd then my daies are done.
The boy must die, there is no helpe at all;
For on his life my verie life dependes.
Besides I cannot compasse what I would,
Unlesse the boy be quicklie made away.
This that abridgde his haplesse maisters daies,
Shall leave such sound memorials one [sic] his head,
That he shall quite forget who did him harme,
Or train'd his master to this bloodie feast.—
Why, how now, Rachell? who did call below?