[Exit.
[SCENE II.]
Enter two Murtherers with Pertillo.
Per. I am so wearie in this combrous wood, That I must needes go sit me downe and rest.
1 Mur. What were we best? to kill him unawares, Or give him notice what we doe intend?
2 Mur. Whie then belike you meane to do your charge, And feel no tast of pittie in your hart.
1 Mur. Of pittie, man! that never enters heere,
And if it should, Ide threat my craven heart
To stab it home for harbouring such a thought.
I see no reason whie I should relent;
It is a charitable vertuous deede,
To end this princkocke[19] from this sinfull world.
2 Mur. Such charitie will never have reward,
Unlesse it be with sting of conscience;
And thats a torment worse than Sisipus,
That rowles a restlesse stone against the hill.
1 Mur. My conscience is not prickt with such conceit.
2 Mur. That shews thee further off from hoped grace.