2 mur. The lands and goods, thy father left his sonne, Do hale thee on to thy destruction.
Per. Oh needy treasure, harme-begetting good! That safety[23] should procure the losse of blood!
2 mur. Those lands and goods, thy father got with paine, Are swords wherewith his little sonne is slaine.
1 mu. Then let our swords let out his guiltlesse life.
Per. Sweete, sowre, kinde, cruell, hold thy murthering knife, And here [sic] me speake, before you murther me.
2 mu. Feare not, sweet child, he shall not murther thee.
1 mu. No, but my sword shall let his puddings forth.
Per. First here me speake, thou map of Butcherie:
Tis but my goods and lands my Unckle seekes;
Having that safely, he desires no more.
I do protest by my dead parents soules,
By the deare love of false Fallerios sonne,
Whose heart, my heart assures me, will be griev'd
To heare his fathers inhumanitie,
I will forsake my countrie, goods, and lands,
I, and my selfe will even change my selfe,
In name, in life, in habit, and in all,
And live in some farre-moved continent,
So you will spare my weake and tender youth,
Which cannot entertaine the stroake of death
In budding yeares and verie spring of life.
1 Mur. Leave of these bootlesse protestations,
And use no ruth-enticing argumentes,
For if you do, ile lop you lim by lim,
And torture you for childish eloquence.
2 Mur. Thou shalt not make his little finger ake.