Duke. Come then away:—but, gentlemen beholde, A bloody sight, and murtherous spectacle!
2 Mur. Oh, God, forgive me all my wickednesse And take me to eternall happinesse!
Duke. Harke one of them hath some small sparke of life, To kindle knowledge of their sad mishaps.
Allen. Ah gratious Lord, I know this wretched child, And these two men that here lye murthered.
Vesu. Do you, Allenso?
Allen. I, my gracious Lord:
It was Pertillo my dead Unckles sonne.
Now have my feares brought forth this fearefull childe
Of endlesse care, and everlasting griefe!
Duke. Lay hands upon Allenso, Gentlemen. Your presence doth confirme you had a share In the performance of this crueltie.
Allen. I do confesse I have so great a share
In this mishap, that I will give him thankes,
That will let foorth my sorrow-wounded soule
From out this goale of lamentation.
Duke. Tis now too late to wish for hadiwist.[28] Had you withheld your hand from this attempt, Sorrow had never so imprisoned you.
Allen. Oh my good Lord, do not mistake my case,
And yet my griefe is sure infallible.
The Lord of heaven can witnesse with my soule,
That I am guiltelesse of your wrong suspect,
But yet not griefelesse that the deed is done.