Vir. Hark ye.[431]
Eug. O, my lord, conscience!
Vir. Fie! never talk of conscience; and for law, thou art free; for all men think him dead, and his father will be ashamed to follow it, having already given him for dead; and then, who can know it? Come, be wise, five hundred crowns I'll give.
Eug. Well, 'tis poverty that does it, and not I: when shall I be paid?
Vir. When thou hast done it.
Eug. Well, give me your hand for it, my lord.
Vir. Thou shalt.
Eug. In writing, to be paid when I have poisoned him; and think it done.
Vir. Now thou speak'st like thyself: come in, I'll give it thee.