Con. We partly doe; when saw you maister Beech?
Mer. I doe not well remember who you meane.
Con. Not Beech, the Chaundler upon Lambert hill?
Mer. I know the man, but saw him not this fortnight.
Con. I would you had not, for your sisters sake,
For yours, for his, and for his harmlesse boy.
Be not obdurate in your wickednesse;
Confession drawes repentance after it.
Mer. Well, maister Constable, I doe confesse,
I was the man that did them both to death:
As for my sister and my harmlesse man,
I doe protest they both are innocent.
Con. Your man is fast in hold, and hath confest
The manner how, and where, the deede was done;
Therefore twere vaine to colour anything.
Bring them away.
Rach. Ah brother, woe is me!
Mer. I comfortlesse will helpe to comfort thee.
[Exeunt.