Two Lamentable Tragedies The one, of the murther of Maister Beech, a Chaundler in Thames-streete, and his boye, done by Thomas Merry. The other of a young childe murthered in a Wood by two Ruffins, with the consent of his Vnckle |
 | Two Lamentable Tragedies |  |
I haue in vaine past through each stately streete,
And blinde-fold turning of this happie towne,
For wealth, for peace, and goodlie gouernement,
Yet can I not finde out a minde, a heart
For blood and causelesse death to harbour in;
They all are bent with vertuous gainefull trade,
To get their needmentes for this mortall life,
And will not soile their well addicted harts:
With rape, extortion, murther, or the death,
Of friend or foe, to gaine an Empery.
I cannot glut my blood delighted eye;
With mangled bodies which do gaspe and grone,
Readie to passe to faire Elizium,
Nor bath my greedie handes in reeking blood,
Of fathers by their children murthered:
When all men else do weepe, lament and waile,
The sad exploites of fearefull tragedies,
It glads me so, that it delightes my heart,
To ad new tormentes to their bleeding smartes.
Enter Auarice.
But here comes Auarice, as if he sought,
Some busie worke for his pernicious thought:
Aua.
Why what carst thou, I seeke for one I misse.
Ho.
I may supplie the man you wish to haue.
Aua.
Thou seemes to be a bold audatious knaue,
I doe not like intruding companie,
That seeke to vndermine my secrecie.
Ho.
Mistrust me not I am thy faithfull friend.
Aua.
Many say so, that proue false in the end.
Ho.
But turne about and thou wilt know my face,
Aua.
It may be so, and know thy want of grace,
What Homicide thou art the man I seeke:
I reconcile me thus vpon thy cheeke.
Kisse, imbrace.
Hadst thou nam'd blood and damn'd iniquitie,
I had for borne to bight so bitterlie.
Hom.
Knowst thou a hart wide open to receiue,
A plot of horred desolation,
Tell me of this, thou art my cheefest good,
And I will quaffe thy health in bowles of blood.
Aua.
I know two men, that seeme two innocents,
Whose lookes surueied with iuditiall eyes:
Would seeme to beare the markes of honestie,
But snakes finde harbour mongst the fairest flowers,
Then neuer credit outward semblaunces:
Enter Trueth.
I know their harts relentlesse mercilesse,
And will performe through hope of benefit:
More dreadfull things then can be thought vpon.
Hom.
If gaine will draw, I prethy then allure,
Their hungrie harts with hope of recompence,
But tye dispaire vnto those moouing hopes,
Vnleast a deed of murther farther it,
Then blood on blood, shall ouertake them all,
And we will make a bloodie feastiuall.
Coue.
The plots are laide, the keyes of golden coine,
Hath op'd the secret closets of their harts,
Inter, insult, make captiue at thy will,
Yonder is truth, she commeth to bewaile,
The times and parties that we worke vpon.
Hom.
Why let her weepe, lament, and morne for me,
We are right bred of damn'd iniquitie,
And will go make a two-folde Tragedie.
Exeunt.
Truth.
Goe you disturbers of a quiet soule,
Sad, greedy, gaping, hungrie Canibals,
That ioy to practise others miseries:
Gentles, prepare your teare bedecked eyes,
To see two shewes of lamentation,
Besprinckled euery where with guiltlesse blood,
Of harmlesse youth, and pretie innocents,
Our Stage doth weare habilliments of woe,
Truth rues to tell the truth of these laments:
The one was done in famous London late,
Within that streete whose side the riuer Thames
Doth striue to wash from all impuritie:
But yet that siluer streame can neuer wash,
The sad remembrance of that cursed deede,
Perform'd by cruell Merry on iust Beech,
And his true boye poore Thomas Winchester,
The most here present, know this to be true:
Would truth were false, so this were but a tale,
The other further off, but yet too neere,
To those that felt and did the crueltie:
Neere Padua this wicked deed was done,
By a false Vncle, on his brothers sonne,
Left to his carefull education,
By dying Parents, with as strict a charge,
As euer yet death-breathing brother gaue:
Looke for no mirth, vnlesse you take delight,
In mangled bodies, and in gaping wounds,
Bloodily made by mercy wanting hands,
Truth will not faine, but yet doth grieue to showe,
This deed of ruthe and miserable woe.
I liue in meane and discontented state,
But wherefore should I thinke of discontent:
I am belou'd, I haue a pretty house,
A louing sister, and a carefull man,
That doe not thinke their dayes worke well at end,
Except it bring me in some benefit:
And well frequented is my little house,
With many guestes and honest passengers,
Enter Beech and a friend.
Which may in time aduance my humble state,
To greater wealth and reputation.
And here comes friends to drinke some beare or ale,
Sit in his shop.
They are my neighbours, they shall haue the best,
Ne.
Come neighbor Beech lets haue our mornings draught
And wele go drinke it at yong Merries house:
They say he hath the best in all this towne,
Besides they say he is an honest man,
And keepes good rule and orders in his house.
Beech.
He's so indeede, his conuersation,
Is full of honest harmlesse curtesie:
I dare presume, if that he be within,
Hele serue vs well, and keepe vs company,
See where he is, go in, ile follow you.
Striue curtesie.
Nay straine no curtesie you shall goe before.
Mer.
Your welcome neighbour, you are welcome sir,
I praie sit downe, your verie welcome both:
Beech.
We thanke you for it, and we thinke no lesse,
Now fill two cans of your ould strongest beare:
That make so manie loose their little wits,
And make indentures as they go along.
Mer.
Hoe sister Rachell:
Rach.
I come presently.
Enter Rachell.
Mer.
Goe draw these gentlemen two Cans of beare,
Your negligence that cannot tend the shop,
Will make our customers forsake the house.
Wheres Harry Williams that he staies not here.
My selfe was busie dressing vp the house,
As for your man he is not verie well:
But sitteth sleeping by the kitchen fier.
Mer.
If you are busie get you vp againe,
Exit.
Ile draw my neighbours then their drinke my selfe,
Ile warrant you as good as any mans,
And yet no better, many haue the like.
Exit for Beare.
Neigh.
This showes him for a plaine and honest man,
That will not flatter with too many wordes:
Some shriltong'd fellowes would haue cogd and faind,
Saying ile draw the best in Christendome.
Beech.
Hees none of those, but beares an honest minde,
And shames to vtter what he cannot proue.
Enter Merry.
But here he comes, is that the best you haue,
Mer.
It is the best vpon mine honest worde.
Beech.
Then drinke to vs.
Mer.
I drinke vnto you both.
Nei., Beech.
We pledge you both, and thanke you hartelie.
Beech.
Heres to you sir.
Neigh.
I thanke you,
Maister Beech drinkes, drinke Neighbour.
Neigh.
Tis good indeed and I had rather drinke,
Such beare as this as any Gascoine wine:
But tis our English manner to affect
Strange things, and price them at a greater rate,
Then home-bred things of better consequence.
Mer.
Tis true indeede, if all were of your minde,
My poore estate would sooner be aduanc'd:
And our French Marchants seeke some other trade.
Beech.
Your poore estate, nay neighbour say not so,
For God be thanked you are well to liue.
Mer.
Not so good neighbour, but a poore young man,
That would liue better if I had the meanes:
But as I am, I can content my selfe,
Till God amend my poore abilitie.
Neigh.
In time no doubt, why man you are but young,
And God assure your selfe hath wealth in store,
If you awaight his will with patience.
Thankes be to God I liue contentedlie,
And yet I cannot boast of mightie wealth:
But yet Gods blessings haue beene infinit,
And farre beyond my expectations,
My shop is stor'd, I am not much in debt;
And here I speake it where I may be bold,
I haue a score of poundes to helpe my neede,
If God should stretch his hand to visit me,
With sicknesse, or such like aduersity.
Neigh.
Enough for this, now neighbour whats to pay,
Mer.
Two pence good sir.
Beech.
Nay pray sir forbeare,
Ile pay this reckoning for it is but small.
Neigh.
I will not striue since yee will haue it so.
Beech.
Neighbour farewell.
Exit Beech and neigh.
Mer.
Farewell vnto you both.
His shop is stor'd he is not much indebt.
He hath a score of poundes to helpe his neede,
I and a score too if the trueth were knowne:
I would I had a shop so stor'd with wares,
And fortie poundes to buy a bargaine with,
When as occasion should be offered me,
Ide liue as merrie as the wealthiest man;
That hath his being within London walles,
I cannot buy my beare, my bread, my meate:
My fagots, coales, and such like necessaries,
At the best hand, because I want the coine,
That manie misers coafer vp in bagges,
Hauing enough to serue their turnes besides:
Ah for a tricke to make this Beeches trash,
Forsake his cofer and to rest in mine,
I marrie sir, how may that tricke be done:
Marrie with ease and great facilitie,
I will inuent some new-found stratagem,
To bring his coyne to my possession;
What though his death relieue my pouertie,
Gaine waites on courage, losse on cowardice.
Pan.
Brother and sister, pray you both drawe neere,
And heere my will, which you haue promised
Shall be performde with wished prouidence,
This little Orphant I must leaue behinde,
By your direction to be gouerned.
As for my wife and I, we do awaite,
The blessed houre when it shall please the Lord,
To take vs to the iust Ierusalem.
Our chiefest care is for that tender boye,
Which we should leaue discomfortlesse behinde,
But that we do assure vs of your loue,
And care to guide his weake vnhable youth,
In pathes of knowledge grace and godlinesse:
As for the riches of this mortall life,
We leaue enough foure hundreth pounds a yeare,
Besides two thousand pounds to make a stocke,
In money, Iewels, Plate, and houshold stuffe,
Which yearely rents and goods we leaue to you,
To be surrendered into his hands,
When he attaines to yeeres of discreation.
My Will imports thus much, which you shall heare,
And you shall be my sole Executor.
Fall.
Brother and sister how my hart laments,
To see your weake and sicke afflicted limmes,
Neere ouercome with dyrefull malladies,
The God of heauen can truely testifie,
Which to speake plaine, is nere a whit at all.
To the people.
Which knowes the secret corners of my heart,
But for the care you do impose on me,
For the tuition of your little sonne,
Thinke my kinde brother, I will meditate,
Both day and night, how I may best fulfill,
And see him posted quickly after you.
To the people.
Arm.
Enough kinde brother, we assure vs so,
Else would we seeke another friend abroade,
To do our willes and dying Testament,
Nature and loue will haue a double care,
To bring him vp with carefull dilligence,
As best beseemes one of such parentage.
Fall.
Assure your selfe the safest course I can,
Shall be prouided for your little sonne,
He shall be sent vnto the King of heauen.
To the people.
Sostr.
Feare not good brother, and my louing sister,
But we will haue as tender care of him,
As if he were our owne ten thousand times:
God will be father of the fatherlesse,
And keepe him from all care and wretchednesse.
Allenso.
Vnckle and Aunt take comfort, I will see,
My little coozen haue no iniurie.
Pan., Ar.
We thanke you all, come let the Will be read.
Fall.
If it were seald, I would you both were dead.
Scriue.
Then giue attention, I will read the Will.
Reade the UUill.
In the name of God, Amen. I, &c.
Pan.
Thus if my sonne miscarry, my deare brother,
You and your sonne shall then enioy the land,
And all the goods which he should haue possessd,
Fall.
If he miscarry, brother God forbid,
God blesse mine Nephew, that thine eyes may see,
Thy childrens children with prosperity:
I had rather see the little vrchin hangd,
To the people.
Then he should liue, and I forgoe the land.
Ar.
Thankes gentle brother, husband seale the Will.
Pand.
Giue me a Pen and Inke, first to subscribe,
I write so ill through very feeblenesse,
That I can scarcely know this hand for mine,
But that you all can witnesse that it is.
Scri.
Giue me the seale: I pray sir take it of,
And do confirme it for your Testament.
Pand.
With all my hart: here brother keepe my Will,
And I referre me to the will of God,
Praying him deale aswell with you and yours,
As you no doubt will deale with my poore child:
Come my Pertillo, let me blesse thee boy,
And lay my halfe dead hand vpon thy head,
God graunt those dayes that are cut off in me,
With ioy and peace may multiply in thee:
Be slowe to wrath, obey thy Vnckle still,
Submit thy selfe vnto Gods holy will,
In deede and word, see thou be euer true,
So brother, childe, and kinsfolkes all adue.
He dyeth.
Per.
Ah my deere mother, is my father dead?
Ar.
I my sweete Boye, his soule to heauen is fled,
But I shall after him immediatly,
Then take my latest blessing ere I dye,
Come let me kisse thy little tender lips,
Cold death hath tane possession of thy mother.
Let me imbrace thee in my dying armes,
And pray the lord protect thee from al harmes:
Brother, I feare, this childe when I am gone,
Wil haue great cause of griefe & hideous feare:
You will protect him, but I prophecie,
His share will be of woe and misery:
But mothers feares do make these cares arise,
Come boye and close thy mothers dying eyes.
Brother and sister, here the latest words,
That your dead sister leaues for memory:
If you deale ill with this distressed boye,
God will reuenge poore orphants iniuries,
If you deale well, as I do hope you will,
God will defend both you and yours from ill.
Farewell, farewell, now let me breath my last,
Into his dearest mouth, that wanteth breath,
And as we lou'd in life imbrace in death;
Tender my Boye when we are laide in clay.
Dyeth.
Allen.
Gods holy Angell guide your louing soules,
Vnto a place of endlesse happinesse.
Sostr.
Amen, Amen, ah what a care she had,
Of her small Orphant, she did dying pray,
To loue her childe, when she was laide in claye.
Scr.
Ah blame her not although she held it deare,
She left him yonge the greater cause of feare.
Fall.
Knew she my minde, it would recall her life,
To the people.
And like a staring Commet she would mooue,
Our harts to thinke of desolation,
Scriuenor, haue you certified the will?
Scri.
I haue.
Fall.
Then theres two Duckets for your paines.
Scri.
Thankes gentle sir, and for this time farewell.
Exit.
Sost.
Come prety coozen, cozened by grim death,
Of thy most carefull parents all too soone,
Weepe not sweete boy, thou shalt haue cause to say,
Thy Aunt was kinde, though parents lye in claye.
Pert.
But giue me leaue first to lament the losse,
Of my deere Parents, nature bindeth me,
To waile the death of those that gaue me life,
And if I liue vntill I be a man,
I will erect a sumptuous monument,
And leaue remembrance to ensuing times,
Of kinde Pandino and Armenia.
Allen.
That shall not neede, my father will erect,
That sad memoriall of their timeles death,
And at that tombe we will lament and say
Soft lye the bones of faire Armenia.
Fall.
Surcease Allenso, thats a bootelesse cost,
The Will imports no such iniunction:
I will not spend my little Nephewes wealth,
In such vaine toyes, they shall haue funerall,
But with no stately ceremoniall pompe,
Thats good for nought but fooles to gase vppon;
Allen.
His land, why father you haue land enough,
And more by much then I do know to vse:
I would his vertues would in me suruiue,
So should my Vnckle seeme in me aliue,
But to your will I doe submit my selfe,
Do what you please concerning funeralls.
Fall.
Come then away, that we may take in hand,
To haue possession of my brothers land,
His goods and all vntill he come of age:
To rule and gouerne such possessions.
That shalbe neuer or ile misse my marke,
Till I surrender vp my life to death:
And then my sonne shalbe his fathers heire,
And mount aloft to honors happy chaire.
Exeunt: Omnes.
Enter Merry solus.
Beech hath a score of pounds to helpe his neede,
And I may starue ere he will lend it me:
But in dispight ile haue it ere I sleepe,
Although I send him to eternall rest,
But shallow foole, thou talkst of mighty things,
And canst not compasse what thou dost conceiue:
Stay let me see, ile fetch him to my house,
And in my garret quickly murther him:
The night conceales all in her pitchie cloake,
And none can open what I meane to hide,
But then his boy will say I fetcht him foorth:
I am resolu'd, he shall be murthered to,
This toole shall write, subscribe, and seale their death,
And send them safely to another world:
But then my sister, and my man at home,
Will not conceale it when the deede is done,
Tush one for loue, the other for reward,
Will neuer tell the world my close intent,
My conscience saith it is a damned deede:
To traine one foorth, and slay him priuily,
Gaine doth attended this resolution,
Hence dastard feare, I must, I can, I will,
Kill my best friend to get a bag of gold:
They shall dye both, had they a thousand liues,
And therefore I will place this hammer here,
And take it as I follow Beech vp staires,
That suddenlie before he is aware,
I may with blowes dash out his hatefull braines,
Hoe Rachell, bring my cloake, looke to the house,
I will returne againe immediatly.
Rach.
Here it is brother, I pray you stay not long,
Guesse will come in, 'tis almost supper time.
Ex. Ra.
Mer.
Let others suppe, ile make a bloudier feast,
Then euer yet was drest in Merryes house,
Be like thy selfe, then haue a merrie hart,
Thou shalt haue gold to mend thy pouertie,
And after this, liue euer wealthilie.
Then Merry must passe to Beeches shoppe, who must sit in his shop, and Winchester his boy stand by: Beech reading.
What neighbour Beech, so godly occupied?
Beech.
I maister Merry it were better reade,
Then meditate on idle fantasies.
Mer.
You speake the trueth: there is a friend or two
Of yours, making merry in my house,
And would desire to haue your company.
Beech.
Know you their names?
Mer.
No truely nor the men.
I neuer stoode to question them of that,
But they desire your presence earnestlie.
Beech.
I pray you tell them that I cannot come,
Tis supper time, and many will resort,
For ware at this time, aboue all other times;
Tis Friday night besides, and Bartholmew eue,
Therefore good neighbour make my iust excuse.
Mer.
In trueth they told me that you should not stay,
But not and if my hand and hammer hold.
People.
Beech.
I am vnwilling, but I do not care,
And if I go to see the company.
Mer.
Come quickly then, they thinke we stay too long,
Beech.
Ile cut a peece of Cheese to drinke withall.
Mer.
I take the farewell of your cutting knife,
Here is a hand shall helpe to cut your throate:
And giue my selfe a fairing from your chest:
What are you ready wi'l you goe along?
Beech.
I now I am, boy looke you tend the shoppe,
If any aske, come for me to the Bull:
I wonder who they are that aske for me.
Mer.
I know not that, you shall see presentlie,
Goe vp those staires, your friends do stay aboue,
Here is that friend shall shake you by the head,
And make you stagger ere he speake to you.
Then being in the vpper Rome Merry strickes him in the head fifteene times.
Now you are safe, I would the boy were so,
But wherefore wish I, for he shall not liue,
For if he doe, I shall not liue my selfe.
Merry wiped his face from blood.
Lets see what mony he hath in his purse,
Masse heres ten groates, heres something for my paine,
But I must be rewarded better yet.
Enter Rachell and Harry Williams.
Wil.
Who was it Rachell that went vp the staires?
Rach.
It was my brother, and a little man
Of black complexion, but I know him not.
Wil.
Why do you not then carry vp a light,
But suffer them to tarry in the darke.
Rach.
I had forgot, but I will beare one vp.
Exit vp.
Wil.
Do so I prethee, he will chide anon.
Exit.
Rachell speaketh to her brother.
Rachell.
Oh brother, brother, what haue you done?
Mer.
Why murtherd one that would haue murtherd me.
We are vndone, brother we are vndone,
What shall I say for we are quite vndone.
Mer.
Quiet thy selfe sister, all shalbe well,
But see in any case you do not tell,
This deede to Williams nor to any one:
Rach.
No, no, I will not, was't not maister Beech?
Mer.
It was, it is, and I will kill his man,
Exit Rach.
Or in attempting doe the best I can.
Enter Williams and Rachell.
Wil.
What was the matter that you cride so lowde?
Rach.
I must not tell you, but we are vndone:
VVill.
You must not tell me, but we are vndone,
Ile know the cause wherefore we are vndone.
Exit vp.
Rach.
Oh would the thing were but to doe againe,
The thought thereof doth rent my hart in twaine,
Williams to Merry aboue.
She goes vp.
Wil.
Oh maister, maister, what haue you done?
Mer.
Why slaine a knaue that would haue murtherd me.
Better to kill, then to be kild my selfe.
Wil.
With what? where with? how haue you slaine the mā?
Mer.
Why with this hammer I knockt out his braines.
VVil.
Oh it was beastly so to butcher him,
If any quarrell were twixt him and you:
You should haue bad him meete you in the field,
Not like a coward vnder your owne roofe;
To knock him downe as he had bin an oxe,
Or silly sheepe prepard for slaughter house:
The Lord is iust, and will reuenge his blood,
On you and yours for this extremitie.
I will not stay an hower within your house,
It is the wickedst deed that ere was done.
Mer.
Oh sir content your selfe, all shall be well,
Whats done already, cannot be vndone.
Rach.
Oh would to God, the deed were now to do,
And I were priuie to your ill intent,
You should not do it then for all the world.
But prethie Harry do not leaue the house,
And if the thing be knowne we are vndone.
VVil.
Forsake the house, I will not stay all night,
Though you will giue the wealth of Christendome.
Mer.
But yet conceale it, for the loue of God,
If otherwise, I know not what to do.
VVil.
Here is my hand, ile neuer vtter it,
Assure your selfe of that, and so farewell.
Mer.
But sweare to me, as God shall helpe thy soule,
Thou wilt not tell it vnto any one.
VVil.
I will not sweare, but take my honest worde,
And so farewell, my soule assureth me,
Exit Merry and Rach.
God will reuenge this damn'd iniquitie.
What shall become of me vnhappie wretch?
I dare not lodge within my Maisters house,
For feare his murthrous hand should kill me too,
I will go walke and wander vp and downe,
And seeke some rest, vntill the day appeare:
At the Three-Cranes, in some Haye loft Ile lye,
And waile my Maisters comming miserie.
Exit.
Enter Fallerio solus.
Fall.
I haue possession of my brothers goods,
His tennants pay me rent, acknowledge me
To be their Landlord, they frequent my house,
With Turkeys, Capons, Pigeons, Pigges and Geefe,
And all to gaine my fauour and good will.
His plate, his Iewels, hangings, houshould stuffe,
May well beseeme to fit a demie King,
His stately buildings, his delightfull walkes,
His fertile Meadowes, and rich ploughed lands,
His well growne woods and stor'd Fishing ponds,
Brings endlesse wealth, besides continuall helpe,
To keepe a good and hospitable house:
And shall I ioy these pleasures but a time,
Nay brother, sister, all shall pardon me,
Before Ile sell my selfe to penurie.
The lands and goods, vntill his sonne attain'de,
To riper yeares to weld and gouerne them,
Then openly thou canst not do him wrong,
He liuing: there's the burthen of the song.
Call it a burthen, for it seemes so great
And heauie burthen, that the boy should liue,
And thrust me from this height of happinesse:
That I will not indure so heauie waight,
But shake it off, and liue at libertie,
Free from the yoake of such subiection,
The boy shall dye, were he my fathers sonne,
Before Ile part with my possession.
Ile call my sonne, and aske his good aduice,
How I may best dispatch this serious cause:
Hoe sir Allenso?
Alle.
Father.
Fall.
Hearken sonne,
I must intreate your furtherance and aduise,
About a thing that doth concerne vs neere,
First tell me how thou doost affect in heart,
Little Pertillo, thy dead Vnckles sonne.
Allen.
So well good father, that I cannot tell,
Whether I loue him dearer then my selfe:
And yet if that my heart were calde to count,
I thinke it would surrender me to death,
Ere young Pertillo should sustaine a wrong.
Fall.
How got his safetie such a deepe regarde
Within your heart, that you affect it so?
Allen.
Nature gaue roote, loue, and the dying charge,
Of his dead father, giues such store of sap,
Vnto this tree of my affection,
That it will neuer wither till I dye.
Fall.
But nature, loue, and reason, tels thee thus,
Thy selfe must yet be neerest to thy selfe.
Allen.
His loue dooth not estrange me from my selfe,
But doth confirme my strength with multitudes,
Of benefits, his loue will yeelde to me.
Fall.
Beware to foster such pernicious snakes,
Allen.
He is a Doue, a childe, an innocent,
And cannot poyson, father though he would.
Fall.
I will be plainer, know Pertillos life,
Which thou doost call, a Doue, an innocent:
A harmlesse childe, and, and I know not what,
Will harme thee more, then any Serpent can,
I, then the very sight of Basiliskes.
Allen.
Father, you tell me of a strange discourse,
How can his life produce such detriment,
As Basiliskes, whose onely sight is death?
Fall.
Harken to me, and I will tell thee how:
Thou knowst his fathers goods, his houses, lands,
Haue much aduaunc'd our reputation,
In hauing but their vsage for a time,
If the boy liue, then like to sencelesse beasts,
Like longd eard Asses, and riche laden Mules,
We must resigne these treasures to a boye,
And we like Asses feede on simple Haye:
Make him away, they shall continue ours,
By vertue of his fathers Testament,
The Iewels, castles, medowes, houses, lands,
Which thy small cozen, should defeate thee of,
Be still thine owne, and thou aduance thy selfe,
Aboue the height of all thine Auncestours.
Allen.
But if I mount by murther and deceite,
Iustice will thrust aspiring thoughts belowe,
And make me caper for to breake my neck:
After some wofull lamentation,
Of my obedience to vnlawfulnesse:
I tell you plaine, I would not haue him dye,
Might I enioy the Soldans Emperie.
Fall.
What wilt thou barre thy selfe of happinesse,
Stop the large streame of pleasures which would flowe,
And still attend on thee like Seruingmen:
Preferre the life of him that loues thee not,
Before thine owne, and my felicitie.
Ide rather choose to feede on carefulnesse,
To ditche, to delue, and labour for my bread,
Nay rather choose to begge from doore to doore,
Then condiscend to offer violence,
To young Pertillo in his innocence,
I know you speake, to sound what mightie share,
Pertillo hath in my affection.
Fall.
In faith I do not, therefore prethie say,
Will thou consent to haue him made away.
Allen.
Why then in faith, I am ashamde to thinke,
I had my being from so foule a lumpe
Of adulation and vnthankfulnesse,
Ah, had their dying praiers no auaile
Within your hart? no, damnd extorcion,
Hath left no roome for grace to harbor in,
Audacious sinne, how canst thou make him say,
Consent to make my brothers sonne away.
Fall.
Nay if you ginne to brawle, withdraw your selfe,
But vtter not the motion that I made,
As you loue me, or do regarde your life.
Allen.
And as you loue my safetie, and your soule,
Let grace, and feare of God, such thoughts controule.
Fall.
Still pratling, let your grace and feare alone,
And leaue me quickly to my priuate thoughts,
Or with my sworde Ile open wide a gate,
For wrath and bloudie death to enter in.
Allen.
Better you gaue me death and buriall,
Then such foule deeds should ouerthrow vs all.
Fall.
Still are you wagging that rebellious tounge,
Ile dig it out for Crowes to feede vpon,
If thou continue longer in my sight.
Exit Allenso.
He loues him better then he loues his life,
Heres repetition of my brothers care,
Of sisters chardge, of grace, and feare of God,
Feare dastards, cowards, faint hart run-awayes,
Ile feare no coulours to obteine my will,
Though all the fiends in hell were opposite,
Be blinde, wante sences, and be euer lame,
Then be tormented with such discontent,
This resignation would afflict me with,
Be blithe my boy, thy life shall sure be done,
Before the setting of the morrowe sunne.
Enter Auarice and Homicide bloody.
Hom.
Make hast, runne headlong to destruction,
I like thy temper, that canst change a heart,
From yeelding flesh, to Flinte and Adamant,
Thou hitst it home, where thou doost fasten holde,
Nothing can seperate the loue of golde.
Aua.
Feare no relenting, I dare pawne my soule,
(And thats no gadge, it is the diuels due)
He shall imbrew his greedie griping hands,
In the dead bosome of the bloodie boy,
And winde himselfe, his sonne, and harmlesse wife,
In endlesse foldes of sure destruction.
Now Homicide, thy lookes are like thy selfe,
For blood, and death, are thy companions,
Let my confounding plots but goe before,
And thou shalt wade vp to the chin in gore.
Homi.
I finde it true, for where thou art let in,
There is no scrupule made of any sinne,
The world may see thou art the roote of ill,
For but for thee, poore Beech had liued still.
Exeunt.
Enter Rachel and Merry.
Rach.
Oh my deare brother, what a heape of woe,
Your rashnesse hath powrd downe vpon your head:
Where shall we hide this trumpet of your shame,
This timelesse ougly map of crueltie?
Brother, if UUilliams do reueale the truth,
Then brother, then, begins our sceane of ruthe.
Mer.
I feare not VVilliams but I feare the boy,
Who knew I fetcht his maister to my house.
Rach.
What doth the boy know wherabouts you dwel?
I that tormentes me worse then panges of hell,
He must be slaine to, else hele vtter all.
Rach.
Harke brother, harke, me thinkes I here on call.
Mer.
Go downe and see, pray God my man keep close:
If he proue long-tongd then my daies are done,
The boy must die, there is no helpe at all:
For on his life, my verie life dependes,
Besides I cannot compasse what I would,
Vnlesse the boy be quicklie made away,
This that abridgde his haplesse maisters daies,
Shall leaue such sound memorials one his head,
That he shall quite forget who did him harme,
Or train'd his maister to this bloodie feast:
Why how now Rachell? who did call below?
Enter Rachell.
Rach.
A maide that came to haue a pennie loafe.
Mer.
I would a pennie loafe cost me a pound,
Prouided Beeches boy had eate his last.
Rach.
Perchaunce the boy doth not remember you.
Mer.
It maie be so, but ile remember him.
to people.
And send him quicklie with a bloodie scrowle,
To greete his maister in another world.
Rach.
Ile goe to Beeches on a faind excuse,
To see if he will aske me for his maister.
Mer.
No, get you vp, you shall not stir abroade,
And when I call, come quicklie to the dore.
Rach.
Brother, or that, or any thing beside,
To please your minde, or ease your miserie.
Exit.
Mer.
I am knee deepe, ile wade vp to the wast,
To end my hart of feare, and to attaine,
The hoped end of my intention?
But I maie see, if I haue eyes to see,
And if my vnderstanding be not blind,
How manie dangers do alreadie waight,
Vpon my steppes of bold securitie,
Williams is fled, perchaunce to vtter all,
Thats but perchance, naie rather flatlie no,
Should he conceale, the boy would vtter it,
The boy must die, there is no remedie.
The boy sitting at his maisters dore.
VVin.
I wonder that my maister staies so long,
He had not wont to be abroade so late:
Yonder comes one, I thinke that same is he.
Mer.
I see the boye sits at his maisters doore,
Or now, or neuer, Merry stir thy selfe,
And rid thy hart from feare and iealousie:
Thomas Winchester go quicklie to your shoppe,
What sit you still, your maister is at hand.
When the boy goeth into the shoppe Merrie striketh six blowes on his head & with the seauenth leaues the hammer sticking in his head, the boy groaning must be heard by a maide who must crye to her maister.
Merrie flieth.
Mai.
Oh God I thinke theres theeues in Beeches shop.
Enter one in his shirt and a maide, and comming to Beeches shop findes the boy murthered.
Nei.
What cruell hand hath done so foule a deede,
Thus to bemangle a distressed youth:
Without all pittie or a due remorse,
See how the hammer sticketh in his head,
Wherewith this honest youth is done to death,
Speake honest Thomas, if any speach remaine,
What cruell hand hath done this villanie:
He cannot speake, his sences are bereft,
Hoe neighbour Loney, pray come downe with speede,
Your tennant Beeches man is murthered.
Loney sleeping.
What would you haue some Mustard?
Nei.
Your tennant Beeches man, is murthered.
Lo.
Whose smothered, I thinke you lack your wit,
Out at a window
What neighbor? what make you here so late?
Nei.
I was affrighted by a sodaine crie,
And comming downe found maister Beeches man,
Thus with a hammer sticking in his head.
Comes downe.
Ah wo is me for Thomas Winchester,
The truest soule that euer maister had,
Wheres maister Beech?
Neigh.
Nay, no body can tell:
Did you see any running from the dore,
When you lookt out and heard the young man crie,
Maid.
Yes I saw two trulie to my thinking, but they
Ranne away as fast as their hands could beare them:
By my troth twas so darke I could see no bodie,
To people.
Pray God maister Beech hath not hurt his boy in his patience
And if he haue he must be hangd in his choller.
Lo.
I dare be sworne he would not strike him thus,
Praie God his maister be not slaine himselfe.
The night growes late, and we will haue this course
Be watch'd all night, to morrow we shall see,
Whence sprang this strange vnciuill crueltie.
Nei.
Neighbour good night.
Lon.
Neighbors all good night.
Ma.
Praie God I neuer see so sad a sight.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Merry knocking at the doore, and Rachell comes downe.
Mir.
Oh sister, sister, now I am pursu'd,
The mightie clamour that the boy did make,
Hath raisde the neighbours round about the street:
So that I know not where to hide my selfe.
Ra.
What brother, haue you kild Beeches boy?
Mer.
No, no, not I, but yet another hath,
Come, come to bed, for feare we be discri'd:
The fearefullest night that euer Merry knew.
Exeunt.
Enter Falleria and two Ruffaines.
Fall.
Seeme it not strange resolued gentleman,
That I thus priuatelie haue seuered you,
To open secret sorrowes of my hart:
Thinke not I do intend to vndermine,
Your passed liues, although you know I am,
A man to whom the true vnpartiall sworde,
Of equall iustice is deliuered,
Therefore sweare both, as you respect your soules,
First to conceale, and next to execute,
What I reueale, and shall enioyne you to.
Both.
So you rewarde vs, whatsoeuer it be,
We vowe performance, and true secresie.
Fall.
There go aside, yee seeming semblances,
Of equall iustice, and true pietie,
And lay my hearts corrupted Cytadell,
Wide open to your thoughts to looke into.
Know I am nam'd Fallerio, to deceiue
The world with shew of truth and honestie,
But yet nor truth, nor honestie abides,
Within my thoughts, but falshood, crueltie,
Blood sucking Auarice, and all the sinnes,
That hale men on to bloodie stratagems,
Like to your selues, which care not how you gaine,
By blood, extorcion, falshood, periurie,
So you may haue a pleasing recompence:
They start.
Start not aside, depart not from your selues,
I know your composition is as mine,
Of bloud, extortion, falshood, periurie,
True branded with the marke of wickednesse.
1. Ruffin.
Be not so bitter, we are they indeede,
That would depriue our fathers of their liues,
So we were sure to haue a benefit:
I way no more the murthring of a child,
Drag'd from the sucking bosome of his mother,
Then I respect to quaffe a boule of wine,
Vnto his health, that dearely loueth me.
2. Ruff.
Where golde rewardeth, were apparent death
Before mine eyes, bolde, hartie, visible,
Ide wrastle with him for a deadly fall,
Or I would loose my guerdon promised:
Ide hang my brother for to weare his coate,
That all that sawe me might haue cause to say,
There is a hart more firme then Adamant,
To practise execrable butcheries.
I know that well for were I not assur'd,
Of your performance in this enterprice,
I would not ope the closet of my brest,
To let you know my close intention,
There is a little boy, an vrchin lad,
That stands betweene me and the glorious rayes,
Of my soule-wishing sunne of happinesse:
There is a thicket ten miles from this place,
Whose secret ambush, and vnvsed wayes,
Doth seeme to ioyne with our conspiracie,
There murther him, and when the deed is done,
Cast his dead body in some durtie ditch,
And leaue him for the Fowles to feed vpon:
Do this, here is two hundreth markes in golde,
To harten on your resolution:
Two hundreth more, after the deed is done,
Ile pay you more for satisfaction.
1. Ruff.
Swones her's rewards would make one kill himselfe,
To leaue his progenie so rich a prize,
Were twentie liues engadged for this coine,
Ide end them all, to haue the money mine.
2. Ruff.
Who would not hazard life, nay soule and all,
For such a franke and bounteous pay-maister,
Sblood, what labour is't to kill a boy,
It is but thus, and then the taske is done,
It grieues me most, that when this taske is past,
I haue no more to occupie my selfe,
Two hundreth markes to giue a paltrie stab,
I am impacient till I see the brat.
Fall.
That must be done with cunning secrecie,
I haue deuisde to send the boye abroade,
With this excuse, to haue him fostred,
In better manners then this place affoords,
My wife, though loath indeed to part with him,
Yet for his good, she will forgoe her ioy,
With hope in time to haue more firme delights,
Which she expects from young Pertillos life.
Call you him Pertillo, faith leaue out the T.
Fall.
Why so?
Ruff.
Because Perillo will remaine,
For he shall surely perish if I liue:
What do you call the father of the child?
Fall.
Why man, he hath no father left aliue.
1. Ruff.
Yes such a father, that doth see and know,
How we do plot this little infants woe.
To the people.
2. Ruff.
Why then his little sonne is much to blame,
That doth not keepe his father company.
When shall we haue deliuerie of the boy?
Fall.
To morrow morning by the breake of day,
And you must sweare youle see him safely brought,
Vnto the place that I do send him to.
2. Ruff.
That may we safely, for you meane to send
Him to the wood, and there his iourney ends:
Both soule and limbes shall haue a place to rest,
In earth the last, the first in Abrams brest.
Fall.
Come gentlemen, this night go rest with me,
To morrow end Pertillos tragedie.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Merry and Rachell.
Mer.
Sister, now all my golde expected hopes,
Of future good, is plainely vanished,
And in her stead, grim visadged dispaire,
Hath tane possession of my guiltie heart,
Desire to gaine, began this desperate acte,
Now plaine apparance of destruction,
Of soule and body, waights vpon my sinne,
Although we hide our sinnes from mortall men,
Whose glasse of knowledge is the face of man,
The eye of heauen beholdes our wickednesse,
And will no doubt reuenge the innocent.
Rach.
Ah, do not so disconsolate your selfe,
Nor adde new streames of sorrow to your griefe,
Which like a spring tide ouer-swels the bankes,
Least you do make an inundation,
And so be borne away with swiftest tides,
I am your sister, though a silly Maide,
Ile be your true and faithfull comforter.
Mer.
Rachel, I see thy loue is infinite,
And sorrow had so borne my thoughts away,
That I had almost quite forgot my selfe,
Helpe me deare sister to conuey from hence,
The spectacle of inhumanitie.
Rach.
Whether would you conuey this lumpe of dust,
Vntimely murthred by your lucklesse hand.
Mer.
To the lowe roome, where we will couer it,
With Fagots, tell the euening doe approche:
In the meane time I will bethinke my selfe,
How I may best conuey it foorth of doores,
For if we keepe it longer in the house,
The sauour will be felt throughout the streete,
Which will betray vs to destruction.
Oh what a horror brings this beastlinesse,
This chiefe of sinnes, this selfe accusing crime
Of murther: now I shame to know my selfe,
That am estrang'd so much from that I was,
True, harmlesse, honest, full of curtesie,
Now false, deceitfull, full of iniurie:
Hould thou his heeles, ile beare his wounded head,
Would he did liue, so I my selfe were dead.
Bring downe the body, and couer it ouer with Faggots, himselfe.
Rach.
Those little stickes, do hide the murthred course,
But stickes, nor ought besides, can hide the sinne:
He sits on high, whose quick all seeing eye,
Cannot be blinded by mans subtilties.
Mer.
Looke euery where, can you discerne him now?
Rach.
Not with mine eye, but with my heart I can.
Mer.
That is because thou knowest I laide him there,
To guiltinesse each thought be getteth feare:
But go my true, though wofull comforter,
Wipe vp the blood in euery place aboue,
I know all houses will be searcht anon:
Then burne the clothes, with which you wipe the ground
That no apparant signe of blood be found.
Rach.
I will, I will, oh would to God I could,
As cleerely wash your conscience from the deed,
As I can cleanse the house from least suspect,
Of murthrous deed, and beastly crueltie.
Mer.
Cease to wish vainely, let vs seeke to saue,
Our names, our fames, our liues, and all we haue.
Exeunt.
Enter three or foure neighbours together.
1. Neigh.
Neighbours, tis bruted all about the towne,
That Robert Beech a honest Chaundelor,
Had his man deadly wounded yester night,
At twelue a clock, when all men were a sleepe.
2.
Where was his maister, when the deed was done.
3.
No man can tell, for he is missing to,
Some men suspect that he hath done the fact,
And that for feare the man is fled away,
Others, that knew his honest harmlesse life,
Feare that himselfe is likewise made away.
4.
Then let commaundement euery where be giuen,
That sinkes and gutters, priuies, creuises,
And euery place, where blood may be conceald,
Be throughly searcht, swept, washt, and neerely sought,
To see if we can finde the murther out:
And least that Beech be throwne into the Thames,
Let charge be giuen vnto the Watermen,
That if they see the body of a man,
Floting in any place about the Thames,
That straight they bring it vnto Lambert hill,
Where Beech did dwell when he did liue in health.
1. Neigh.
Ile see this charge performd immediatly.
4.
Now let vs go to Maister Beeches shop,
Exit.
To see if that the boy can giue vs light,
Of those suspitions which this cause doth yeeld.
This is the house call maister Loney forth,
3.
Hoe maister Loney, doth the boy yet liue,
Ent. Loney
Or can he vtter who hath done him wrong.
Lo.
He is not dead but hath a dying life,
For neither speech, nor any sence at all,
Abideth in the poore vnhappie youth.
4.
Here you of anie where his maister is.
Lo.
No would we could, we all that knew his life,
Suspect him not for any such offence.
4.
Bring forth the boy, that we may see his wounds.
Bringes him forth in a chaire, with a hammer sticking in his head.
What say the Surgions to the yongmans woundes,
Lo.
They giue him ouer, saying euerie wound
Of sixe, whereof ther's seauen in his head,
Are mortall woundes and all incurable.
They suruey his woundes.
Enter Merrie, and Williams.
Mer.
How now good Harry, hast thou hid my fault?
The boy that knew I train'd his maister forth:
Lies speechlesse, and euen at the point of death,
If you proue true, I hope to scape the brunt,
VVill.
Whie feare not me, I haue conceal'd it yet,
And will conceale it, haue no doubt of me.
Mer.
Thankes gentle Harry, thou shalt neuer lacke,
But thou and I will liue as faithfull friendes,
And what I haue, shalbe thine owne to vse:
There is some monie for to spend to day,
I know you meane to goe and see the faire.
Wil.
I faine would go, but that I want a cloake.
Mer.
Thou shalt not want a cloake, or ought beside,
So thou wilt promise to be secret:
Giue him his cloake.
Here take my cloake, ile weare my best my selfe,
But where did you lie this last night?
Wil.
At the three Cranes, in a Carmans hay-loft,
But ile haue better lodging soone at night,
Thou wilt be secret, I will go and see,
Exit Willi.
What stir they keepe about Beeches shop,
Because I would auoyde suspition.
Go to them.
God saue you gentlemen, is this the boy
That is reported to be murthered?
4.
He is not dead outright, but pleas'd it God.
Twere better he had left this wicked world,
Then to liue thus in this extremitie.
Mer.
A cruell hand no doubt that did the deede,
Whie pull you not the hammer from his head.
4.
That must not be before the youth be dead,
Because the crowner and his quest may see,
The manner how he did receiue his death:
Beare hence the bodie, and endeuor all,
To finde them out that did the villanie.
Exeunt omnes: manet Merrie.
Mer.
Do what you can, cast all your wits about,
Rake kennells, gutters, seeke in euerie place,
Yet I will ouergoe your cunning heads,
If VVilliams and my sister hold their tongues:
My neighbours holdes not me in least suspect,
Weighing of my former conuersation:
Were Beeches boy well conueid awaie,
Ide hope to ouerblow this stormie day.
Exit.
Enter Falleria, Sostrata, Allenso, Pertillo: and two Murtherers booted.
Fall.
Now little cooze, you are content to goe
From me your vnckle and your louing Aunt,
Your faithfull cozen and your dearest friendes:
And all to come to be a skilfull man,
In learned artes and happie sciences.
Per.
I am content, because it pleaseth you,
My father bid I should obey your will,
And yeelde my selfe to your discretion;
Besides my cozen gaue me yesternight,
A prettie Nag to ride to Padua,
Fall.
I thinke thou art inspir'd with prophesie,
To the people.
He loues thee better then I would he did:
Why wherefore thinke you so my pretie Nephew?
Per.
Because he taught me how to say my prayers,
To ride a horse, to start the fearefull Hare,
He gaue this dagger to me yester night,
This little Ring, and many pretie things:
For which, kinde cooze, I rest your true debtor,
And one day I will make you recompence.
Fall.
I, with thy lands and goods thou leau'st behinde.
Alen.
Pray father let me go along with him:
Now by the sauiour of my sinfull soule,
To the people.
I do not like those fellowes countenance.
Fall.
Sonne be content, weele go a seaue night hence,
And see him in his vniuersitie weedes:
These will conduct him safely to the place,
Be well assured they'l haue a care of him,
That you shall neuer see Pertillo more.
To the people.
Allen.
Father, I pray you to withdraw your selfe,
Ide haue a word or two in secresie.
They speake together.
Sost.
Come liuing image of thy dead mother,
And take my louing farewell, ere we part,
I loue thee dearly for thy fathers sake,
But for thy mothers, doate with iealousie,
Oh I do feare, before I see thy face,
Or thou, or I, shall taste of bitternesse:
Kisse me sweete boy, and kissing folde thine Aunte,
Within the circle of thy little armes,
I neede not feare, death cannot offer wrong,
The maiestie of thy presaging face,
Would vanquish him though nere so terrible,
The angrie Lionesse that is bereau'd,
Of her imperious crew of forrest kings,
Would leaue her furie and defend thee safe,
From Wolues, from Panthers, Leopards, and shee Beares,
That liue by rapine, stealth, and crueltie,
Who will be sure to guarde thee tenderly.
And now to you, that carry hence this wealth,
This precious iewell, this vnprized good,
Haue a regarde to vse him carefully,
When he is parted from that serious care,
Which was imployde for his securitie:
I vrge it not, that I misdoubt your truth,
I hope his Vnckle doth perswade himselfe,
You will be courteous, kinde and affable,
Ther's some rewarde for hoped carefulnesse.
Allen.
Now by my soule I do suspect the men,
Especially the lower of the two:
See what a hollow discontented looke
He casts, which brings apparant cause of feare,
The other, though he seeme more courteous,
Yet dooth his lookes presadge this thought in me,
As if he scorn'd to thinke on courtesie.
Fall.
Vpon my life, my sonne you are to blame,
The gentlemen are honest, vertuous,
And will protect Pertillo happily:
These thoughts proceed out of aboundant loue,
Because you grieue to leaue his company:
If ought betide him otherwise then well,
Let God require due vengaunce on my head,
And cut my hopes from all prosperitie.
Allen.
A heauie sentence, full of wondrous feare,
I cannot choose but credit such a vowe,
Come hether then, my ioy, my chiefest hopes.
My second selfe, my earthly happinesse,
Lend me thy little prety cherry lip,
To kisse me cozen, lay thy little hand
Vpon my cheeke, and hug me tenderly,
Would the cleere rayes of thy two glorious sunnes,
Could penetrate the corners of my heart,
That thou might see, how much I tender thee.
My friends beholde within this little bulke,
His life holdes mine, his heart conteines my hart,
His euery lim, containes my euery part:
Without his being, I can neuer be,
He being dead, prepare to burie me.
Oh thou immortall mouer of the spheares,
Within their circled reuolusions,
Whose glorious image this small orphant beares,
Wrought by thy all sufficient Maiestie,
Oh neuer suffer any wicked hand,
To harme this heauenly workmanship of thine,
But let him liue, great God to honour thee,
With vertuous life, and spotlesse pietie.
Per.
Cease my kinde cooze, I cannot choose but weepe,
To see your care of my securitie.
Allen.
Knewst thou my reason, that perswades my hart,
Thou wouldst not wonder, why I grieue to part:
But yet I would suspect my fathers vowe,
Did any other make it by your leaue.
Fall.
What haue you done, this lothnesse to depart,
Seemes you were trained vp in tediousnesse,
That know not when and where to make an end:
Take him my friends, I know you will discharge,
The hope and trust that I repose in you.
Both.
Assure your selfe, in euery circumstance.
Fall.
Then to your horses, quicklie, speedily,
Else we shall put our fingers in the eye,
And weepe for kindnesse till to morrow morne.
Per.
Farewell good Vnckle, Aunt, and louing cooze.
Sostratus kisseth the boy weeping.
Allen.
Farewell, I feare me euerlastinglie.
Exeunt Sostratus and Allenso.
One of the murtherers takes Falleria by the sleeue.
1. mu.
You meane not now to haue him murthered?
Fall.
Not murthered, what else? kill him I say,
But wherefore makest thou question of my will?
Because you wisht that God should be reueng'd
If any ill be tide the innocent.
Fall.
Oh that was nothing but to blind the eyes,
Of my fond sonne, which loues him too too well.
Mur.
It is enough, it shall be surely done.
Exeunt om.
Enter Merry and Rachel with a bag.
Mer.
What hast thou sped? haue you bought the bag?
Rach.
I brother, here it is, what is't to do?
Mer.
To beare hence Beeches body in the night.
Rach.
You cannot beare so great a waight your selfe,
And 'tis no trusting of another man.
Mer.
Yes well enough, as I will order it,
Ile cut him peece-meale, first his head and legs
Will be one burthen, then the mangled rest,
Will be another, which I will transport,
Beyond the water in a Ferry boate,
And throw it into Paris-garden ditch.
Fetch me the chopping-knife, and in the meane
Ile moue the Fagots that do couer him.
Remooue the Fagots.
Rach.
Oh can you finde in hart to cut and carue,
His stone colde flesh, and rob the greedy graue,
Of his disseuered blood be sprinckled lims?
Mer.
I mary can I fetch the chopping knife.
Rach.
This deed is worse, thē whē you tooke his life.
Exit.
Mer.
But worse, or better, now it must be so,
Better do thus, then feele a greater woe.
Ent. Rach.
Here is the knife, I cannot stay to see,
This barbarous deed of inhumanitie.
Exit Rachel.
Merry begins to cut the body, and bindes the armes behinde his backe with Beeches garters, leaues out the body, couers the head and legs againe.
Enter Truth.
Yee glorious beames of that bright-shining lampe,
That lights the starre bespangled firmament,
Why doost thou lend assistance to this wretch,
To shamble forth with bolde audacitie,
His lims, that beares thy makers semblance.
All you the sad spectators of this Acte,
Whose harts do taste a feeling pensiuenesse,
Of this vnheard of sauadge Massacre:
Oh be farre of, to harbour such a thought,
As this audacious murtherer put in vre,
I see your sorrowes flowe vp to the brim,
And ouerflowe your cheekes with brinish teares,
But though this sight bring surfet to the eye,
Delight your eares with pleasing harmonie,
That eares may counterchecke your eyes, and say,
Why shed you teares, this deede is but a playe:
His worke is done, he seekes to hide his sinne,
Ile waile his woe, before his woe begin.
Exit Trueth.
Mer.
Now will I high me to the water side,
And fling this heauie burthen in a ditche,
Whereof my soule doth feele so great a waight,
That it doth almost presse me downe with feare,
Enter Rachell.
Harke Rachel: I will crosse the water straight,
And fling this middle mention of a man,
Into some ditch, then high me home againe,
To rid my house of that is left behinde.
Rach.
Where haue you laide the legs & battered head?
Mer.
Vnder the fagots, where it lay before,
Helpe me to put this trunke into the bag.
Rach.
My heart will not endure to handle it,
The sight here of doth make me quake for feare.
Mer.
Ile do't my selfe, onely drie vp the blood,
And burne the clothes as you haue done before.
Exit.
Rach.
I feare thy soule will burne in flames of hell,
Vnlesse repentance wash away thy sinne,
With clensing teares of true contrition:
Ah did not nature ouersway my will,
Exit.
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 vnawares,
Or giue him notice what we doe intend?
2. Mur.
Whie then belike you meane to do your charge
And feele no tast of pittie in your heart.
1. Mur.
Of pittie man, that neuer enters heere,
And if it should, Ide threat my crauen hart,
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 from this sinfull world.
2. Mur.
Such charitie will neuer haue reward,
Vnlesse it be with sting of conscience:
And that's a torment worse then 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.
1. Mur.
Grace me no graces, I respect no grace,
But with a grace, to giue a gracelesse stab,
To chop folkes legges and armes off by the stumpes,
To see what shift theile make to scramble home:
Pick out mens eyes, and tell them thats the sport,
Of hood-man-blinde, without all sportiuenesse,
If with a grace I can performe such pranckes,
My hart will giue mine agents many thankes.
2. Mur.
Then God forbid I should consort my selfe,
With one so far from grace and pietie:
Least being found within thy companie,
I should be partner of thy punishment.
1. Mur.
When wee haue done what we haue vow'd to do,
My hart desires to haue no fellowship,
With those that talke of grace of godlinesse:
I nam'd not God vnleast 'twere with an othe,
Sence the first houre that I could walke alone,
By heauen thou art a damned hipocrite:
For thou hast vow'd to kill that sleeping boy,
And all to gaine two hundreth markes in gold,
I know this purenesse comes of pure deceit,
To draw me from the murthering of the child,
That you alone might haue the benefit,
You are too shallow, if you gull me so,
Chop of my head to make a Sowsing-tub,
And fill it full of tripes and chitterlinges.
2. Mur.
That thou shalt see my hart is far from fraud,
Or vaine illusion in this enterprize,
Which doth import the safetie of our soules,
There take my earnest of impietie.
Giue him his mony.
Onely forbeare to lay thy iuder handes,
Vpon the poore mistrustlesse tender child,
As for our vowes, feare not their violence,
God will forgiue on hartie penitence.
1. Mur.
Thou Eunuch, Capon, dastard, fast and loose,
Thou weathercocke of mutabilitie,
White liuered Paisant, wilt thou vowe and sweare,
Face and make semblance with thy bagpipe othes,
Of that thou neuer meanst to execute?
Pure cowardice for feare to crack thy necke,
With the huge Caos of thy bodies waight,
Hath sure begot this true contrition,
Then fast and pray, and see if thou canst winne,
A goodlie pardon for thy hainous sinne,
As for the boy, this fatall instrument,
Was mark'd by heauen to cut his line of life,
And must supplie the knife of Atropos,
And if it doe not, let this maister peece,
(Which nature lent the world to wonder at)
Be slit in Carbonadoes for the iawes,
Of some men-eating hungrie Canniball:
By heauen ile kill him onely for this cause,
For that he came of vertuous Auncestors,
But by that God, which made that wondrous globe,
Wherein is seene his powerfull dietie,
Thou shalt not kill him maugre all thy spight:
Sweare, and forsweare thy selfe ten thousand times,
Awake Pertillo, for thou art betrai'd,
This bloody slaue intends to murther thee.
Draw both.
1. Mur.
Both him, and all, that dare to rescue him.
Per.
Wherefore? because I slept without your leaue?
Forgiue my fault, Ile neuer sleepe againe.
2. mur.
No child, thy wicked Vnckle hath suborn'd,
Both him and me to take thy life away:
Which I would saue, but that this hellish impe,
Will not consent to spare thy guiltlesse blood.
Per.
Why should Falleria seeke to haue my life.
2. mur.
The lands and goods, thy father left his sonne,
Do hale thee on to thy destruction.
Per.
Oh needy treasure, harme be getting good,
That safely should procure the losse of blood.
2. mu.
Those lands and goods, thy father got with paine,
Are swords where with his little sonne is slaine.
1. mu.
Then let our swords let out his guitlesse life.
Per.
Sweete, sowre, kinde, cruell, holde thy murthering knife,
And here 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 foorth.
Per.
First here me speake, thou map of Butcherie,
Tis but my goods and lands my Vnckle seekes,
Hauing that safely, he desires no more,
I do protest by my dead parents soules,
By the deare loue of false Fallerios sonne,
Whose heart, my heart assures me, will be grieu'd,
To heare his fathers inhumanitie:
I will forsake my countrie, goods, and lands,
I and my selfe, will euen change my selfe,
In name, in life, in habit, and in all,
And liue in some farre moued continent,
So you will spare my weake and tender youth,
In budding yeares, and verie spring of life.
1. Mur.
Leaue of these bootlesse protestations,
And vse no ruth entising argumentes,
For if you doe, ile lop you lim by lim,
And torture you for childish eloquence.
2. Mur.
Thou shalt not make his little finger ake.
1. Mur.
Yes euery part, and this shall prooue it true.
Runnes Pertillo in with his sworde.
Per.
Oh I am slaine, the Lord forgiue thy fact,
And giue thee grace to dye with penitence.
Dyeth.
2. Mur.
A treacherous villaine, full of cowardise,
Ile make thee know that thou hast done amisse.
1. m.
Teach me that knowledge when you will or dare.
They fight and kill one another, the relenter hauing some more life, and the other dyeth.
1. mur.
Swoones I am peppered, I had need haue salt,
Or else to morrow I shall yeeld a stincke,
Worse then a heape of durty excrements:
Now by this Hilt, this golde was earn'd too deare:
Ah, how now death, wilt thou be conquerour?
Then vengeance light on them that made me so,
And ther's another farewell ere I goe.
Stab the other murtherer againe.
2. mur.
Enough, enough, I had my death before.
A hunt within.
Enter the Duke of Padua, Turqualo, Vesuvio, Alberto, &c.
Duke.
How now my Lords, was't not a gallant course,
Beleeue me sirs, I neuer saw a wretch,
Make better shift to saue her little life:
The thickets full of buskes and scratching bryers,
A mightie dewe, a many deepe mouth'd hounds,
Let loose in euery place to crosse their course,
And yet the Hare got cleanly from them all:
I would not for a hundred pound in faith,
For we will winde a merry hunters horne,
And start her once againe to morrow morne.
Tarq.
In troth my Lord, the little flocked hound,
That had but three good legs to further him,
Twas formost still, and surer of his sent,
Then any one in all the crie besides.
Vesu.
But yet Pendragon gaue the Hare more turnes.
Alber.
That was because he was more polliticke,
And eyed her closely in her couerts still:
They all did well, and once more we will trie,
The subtile creature with a greater crie,
Enter Allenso boored.
Duke.
But say, what well accomplishd Gentleman,
Is this that comes into our company?
Vesu.
I know him well, it is Fallerios sonne,
Pandynos brother (a kinde Gentleman)
That dyed, and left his little pretty sonne,
Vnto his fathers good direction.
Duke.
Stand close awhile, and ouer heare his wordes,
He seemes much ouer-gone with passion.
Alen.
Yee timorous thoughts that guide my giddy steps,
In vnknowne pathes of dreadfull wildernesse,
Why traitor-like do you conspire to holde,
My pained heart, twixt feare and iealousie,
My too much care hath brought me carelesly,
Into this woody sauadge labyrinth,
And I can finde no waye to issue out,
Feare hath so dazeled all my better part,
That reason hath forgot discreations art:
But in good time, see where is company.
Kinde Gentlemen, if you vnlike my selfe,
Are not incumbred with the circling wayes,
Of this erronious winding wildernesse,
I pray you to direct me foorth this wood,
And shew the pathe that leades to Padua.
Duke.
We all are Paduans, and we all intend,
Allen.
I will attend vpon you presently.
See the bodyes.
Duke.
Come then away, but gentlemen beholde,
A bloody sight, and murtherous spectacle.
2. Mur.
Oh God forgiue 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.
Alen.
Ah gratious Lord, I know this wretched child,
And these two men that here lye murthered.
Vesu.
Do you Alenso?
Allen.
I my gracious Lord.
It was Pertillo my dead Vnckles sonne:
Now haue my feares brought forth this fearefull childe,
Of endlesse care, and euerlasting griefe.
Duke.
Lay hands vpon Alenso Gentlemen,
Your presence doth confirme you had a share,
In the performance of this crueltie.
Alen.
I do confesse I haue so great a share,
In this mishap, that I will giue him thankes,
That will let foorth my sorrow wounded soule,
From out this goale of flamentation.
Duke.
Tis now too late to wish for hadiwist,
Had you withheld your hand from this attempt,
Sorrow had neuer so imprisoned you.
Allen.
Oh my good Lord, you do mistake my case,
And yet my griefe is sure infallible,
The Lord of heauen can witnesse with my soule,
That I am guiltlesse of your wrong suspect,
But yet not griefelesse that the deed is done.
Duke.
Nay if you stand to iustifie your selfe,
This Gentleman whose life dooth seeme to stay,
Within his body tell he tell your shame,
Shall testifie of your integritie:
Speake then thou sad Anatomy of death,
Who were the agents of your wofulnesse.
2. Mur.
O be not blinded with a false surmise,
For least my tongue should faile to end the tale.
Know young Allenso is as innocent,
As is Fallerio guiltie of the crime.
He, he it was, that with foure hundreth markes,
Whereof two hundred he paide presently,
Did hire this damn'd villaine and my selfe,
To massacre this harmelesse innocent:
But yet my conscience toucht with some remorse,
Would faine haue sau'd the young Pertillos life,
But he remorselesse would not let him liue,
But vnawares thrust in his harmlesse brest,
That life bereauing fatall instrument:
Which cruell deede I seeking to reuenge,
Haue lost my life, and paid the slaue his due
Rewarde, for spilling blood of Innocents:
Surprise Fallerio author of this ill,
Saue young Allenso, he is guiltlesse still.
Dyeth.
Allen.
Oh sweetest honie mixt with bitter gall,
Oh Nightingale combinde with Rauens notes,
Thy speech is like a woodward that should say,
Let the tree liue, but take the roote away.
As though my life were ought but miserie,
Hauing my father slaine for infamie.
Duke.
What should incite Fallerio to deuise,
The ouerthrowe of this vnhappie boy.
Vesu.
That may be easily guest my gracious Lord,
To be the lands Pandino left his sonne,
Which after that the boy were murthered,
Discend to him by due inheritance.
Duke.
You deeme aright, see gentlemen the fruites
Of coueting to haue anothers right,
Oh wicked thought of greedie couetice,
Could neither nature, feare of punishment,
Scandall to wife and children, nor the feare,
Of Gods confounding strict seueritie,
Allay the head-strong furie of thy will,
Beware my friends to wish vnlawfull gaine.
And ouerthrowe the actor vnawares,
For first Fallerios life must satisfie,
The large effusion of their guiltlesse bloods,
Traind on by him to these extremities,
Next, wife and children must be disposest,
Of lands and goods, and turnde to beggerie,
But most of all, his great and hainous sinne,
Will be an eye sore to his guiltlesse kinne.
Beare hence away these models of his shame,
And let vs prosecute the murtherer,
With all the care and dilligence we can.
Two must be carrying away Pertillo.
Allen.
Forbeare a while, to beare away my ioy,
Which now is vanisht, since his life is fled,
And giue me leaue to wash his deadly wound,
With hartie teares, out-flowing from those eyes,
Which lou'd his sight, more then the sight of heauen:
Forgiue me God for this idolatrie.
Thou vgly monster, grim imperious death,
Thou raw-bonde Iumpe of foule deformitie.
Reguardlesse instrument of cruell fate,
Vnparciall Sergeant, full of treacherie,
Why didst thou flatter my ill boding thoughts,
And flesh my hopes with vaine illusions:
Why didst thou say, Pertillo should not dye,
And yet, oh yet, hast done it cruelly:
Oh but beholde, with what a smiling cheere,
He intertain'd thy bloody harbinger:
See thou transformer of a heauenly face,
To Ashie palenesse and vnpleasing lookes,
That his faire countenance still reteineth grace,
Of perfect beauty in the very graue,
The world would say such beauty should not dye,
Yet like a theefe thou didst it cruelly:
Ah, had thy eyes deepe sunke into thy head,
Beene able to perceiue his vertuous minde,
With awfull grace, and pleasing maiestie:
Thou wouldest not then haue let Pertillo die,
Nor like a theefe haue slaine him cruellie.
Ineuitable fates, could you deuise,
No meanes to bring me to this pilgrimage,
Full of great woes and sad calamities,
But that the father should be principall,
To plot the present downfall of the sonne:
Come then kinde death and giue me leaue to die,
Since thou hast slaine Pertillo cruellie.
Du.
Forbeare Allenso harken to my doome,
Which doth concerne thy fathers apprehension,
First we enioyne thee vpon paine of death,
To giue no succour to thy wicked sire,
But let him perrish in his damned sinne,
And pay the price of such a trecherie:
See that with speede the monster be attach'd,
And bring him safe to suffer punishment,
Preuent it not, nor seeke not to delude,
The officers to whom this charge is giuen,
For if thou doe, as sure as God doth liue:
Thy selfe shall satisfie the lawes contempt,
Therefore forward about this punishment.
Exeunt omnes manet Allenso.
Al.
Thankes gratious God that thou hast left the meanes
To end my soule from this perplexitie,
Not succour him on paine of present death:
That is no paine, death is a welcome guest,
To those whose harts are ouerwhelm'd with griefe,
My woes are done, I hauing leaue to die,
And after death liue euer ioyfullie.
Exit.
Enter Murther and Couetousnesse.
Mur.
Now Auarice I haue well satisfied,
My hungry thoughtes with blood and crueltie:
Now all my melanchollie discontent,
With what thy pollicie hath brought to passe,
Yet am I not so throughlie satisfied:
Vntill I bring the purple actors forth,
And cause them quaffe a bowle of bitternesse,
That father, sonne, and sister brother may,
Bring to their deathes with most assur'd decay.
Aua.
That wilbe done without all question,
For thou hast slaine Allenso with the boy:
And Rachell doth not wish to ouerliue,
The sad remembrance of her brothers sinne,
Leaue faithfull loue, to teach them how to dye,
That they may snare their kinsfolkes miserie.
Exeunt.
Enter Merrie and Rachell vncouering the head and legges.
Mer.
I haue bestow'd a watrie funerall,
On the halfe bodie of my butchered friend,
The head and legges Ile leaue in some darke place,
I care not if they finde them yea or no.
Ra.
Where do you meane to leaue the head and legs,
Mer.
In some darke place nere to Bainardes castle,
Ra.
But doe it closelie that you be not seene,
For all this while you are without suspect.
Mer.
Take you no thought, ile haue a care of that,
Onelie take heede you haue a speciall care,
To make no shew of any discontent,
Nor vse too many words to any one.
Puts on his cloake taketh vp the bag.
I will returne when I haue left my loade,
Be merrie Rachell halfe the feare is past.
Ra.
But I shall neuer thinke my selfe secure,
Exit.
This deede would trouble any quiet soule,
To thinke thereof, much more to see it done,
Such cruell deedes can neuer long be hid,
Although we practice nere so cunningly,
Lo he is my brother, I will couer it,
And rather dye then haue it spoken rife,
Lo where she goes, betrai'd her brothers life.
Exit.
Enter Williams and Cowley.
Co.
Why how now Harry what should be the cause,
That you are growne so discontent of late:
Your sighes do shew some inward heauinesse,
Your heauy lookes, your eyes brimfull of teares,
Beares testimonie of some secret griefe,
Reueale it Harry, I will be thy friend,
And helpe thee to my poore habillity.
Wil.
If I am heauie, if I often sigh,
And if my eyes beare recordes of my woe,
Condemne me not, for I haue mightie cause,
More then I will impart to any one.
Co.
Do you misdoubt me, that you dare not tell
That woe to me, that moues your discontent.
Wil.
Good maister Cowley you were euer kinde,
But pardon me, I will not vtter it,
To any one, for I haue past my worde,
And therefore vrge me not to tell my griefe.
Cow.
But those that smother griefe too secretly,
May wast themselues in silent anguishment,
And bring their bodies to so low an ebbe,
That all the world can neuer make is flowe,
Vnto the happy hight of former health:
Then be not iniurious to thy selfe,
To wast thy strength in lamentation,
But tell thy case, wele seeke some remedie.
Wil.
My cause of griefe is now remedilesse,
And all the world can neuer lessen it,
Then since no meanes can make my sorrowes lesse,
Suffer me waile a woe which wants redresse.
Cow.
Yet let me beare a part in thy lamentes,
I loue thee not so ill, but I will mone,
Wil.
Nay, if you are so curious to intrude,
Your selfe to sorrow, where you haue no share,
I will frequent some vnfrequented place,
Where none shall here nor see my lamentations.
Cow.
And I will follow where soeuer thou goe,
Exit.
I will be partner of thy helplesse woe.
Exit.
Enter two Watermen.
1.
Will ist not time we should go to our boates,
And giue attendance for this Bartlemew tide:
Folkes will be stirring early in the morning.
2.
By my troth I am indifferent whether I go or no.
If a fare come why so, if not, why so, if I haue not their
money, they shall haue none of my labour.
1.
But we that liue by our labours, must giue attendance,
But where lyes thy Boate?
2.
At Baynards castle staires.
1.
So do's mine, then lets go together.
2.
Come, I am indifferent, I care not so much for going,
But if I go with you, why so: if not, why so.
He falles ouer the bag.
Sblood what rascall hath laide this in my way?
1.
A was not very indifferent that did so, but you are so
permentorie, to say, why so, and why so, that euery one is
glad to do you iniurie, but lets see, what is it?
Taking the Sack by the end, one of the legs and head drops out.
Good Lord deliuer vs, a mans legges, and a head with manie
wounds.
2.
Whats that so much, I am indifferent, yet for mine
owne part, I vnderstand the miserie of it, if you doe, why
so, if not, why so.
1.
By my troth I vnderstand no other mistery but this,
It is a strange and very rufull sight,
But prethee what doost thou conceit of it.
2.
In troth I am indifferent for if I tell you, why so, it not
1.
If thou tell me, Ile thanke thee, therefore I prithee
tell me.
2.
I tell you I am indifferent, but to be plaine with you,
I am greeued to stumble at the hangmans budget.
1.
At the hangmans budget, why this is a sack.
2.
And to speake indifferently, it is the hang-mans
Budget, and because he thought too much of his labour to
set this head vpon the bridge, and the legs vpon the gates,
he flings them in the streete for men to stumble at, but if I
get him in my boate, Ile so belabour him in a stretcher,
that he had better be stretcht in one of his owne halfe peny
halters: if this be a good conceit, why so, if not, why so.
1.
Thou art deceiu'd, this head hath many wounds,
And hoase and shooes remaining on the legs,
Bull alwayes strips all quartered traitors quite.
2.
I am indifferent whether you beleeue me or no,
these were not worth taking off, and therfore he left them
on, if this be likely why so, if not, why so.
1.
Nay then I see you growe from worse to worse,
I heard last night, that one neere Lambert hill
Was missing, and his boye was murthered,
It may be this is a part of that same man:
What ere it be, Ile beare it to that place.
2.
Masse I am indifferent, Ile go along with you,
If it be so, why so, if not why so.
Exeunt.
Enter three neighbors knocking at Loneys doore: Loney comes.
1.
Hoe maister Loney, here you any newes,
What is become of your Tennant Beech?
Lon.
No truely sir, not any newes at all.
2.
What hath the boy recouered any speach,
To giue vs light of these suggestions,
That do arise vpon this accident.
Lon.
There is no hope he should recouer speech,
The wiues do say, he's ready now to leaue
3.
Me thinkes if Beech himselfe be innocent,
That then the murtherer should not dwell farre off,
The hammer that is sticking in his head,
Was borrowed of a Cutler dwelling by,
But he remembers not, who borrowed it:
He is committed that did owe the hammer,
But yet he standes vppon his innocence,
And Beeches absence causeth great suspition.
Lo.
If Beech be faulty, as I do not thinke,
I neuer was so much deceiu'd before,
Oh had you knowne his conuersation,
You would not haue him in suspition.
3.
Diuels seeme Saints, and in this hatefull times,
Deceite can beare apparraunt signes of trueth,
And vice beare shew of vertues excellence.
Enter the two VVatermen.
1.
I pray is this maister Beeches house?
Lo.
My friend this same was maister Beeches shop,
We cannot tell whether he liue or no.
1.
Know you his head and if I shew it you,
Or can you tell what hose or shooes he ware,
At that same time when he forsooke the shoppe.
3.
What haue you head, and hose, and shooes to show,
And want the body that should vse the same.
1.
Behold this head, these legges, these hose and shooes,
And see if they were Beeches yea or no.
Lo.
They are the same, alas what is become,
Of the remainder of this wretched man.
1. VVat.
Nay that I know not, onelie these we found,
As we were comming vp a narrow lane,
Neere Baynardes Castle, where we two did dwell,
And heering that a man was missing hence,
We thought it good to bring these to this place,
3.
Thankes my good friendes, ther's some thing for your paines,
2. Wat.
We are indifferēt, whether you giue vs any thing
or nothing, and if you had not, why so, but since you haue,
why so.
Leaue your repining sir we thanke you hartely.
3.
Farewell good fellowes, neighbour now be bold,
Exeunt VVatermen.
They dwell not farre that did this bloodie deed,
As God no boubt will at the last reueale:
Though they conceale it nere so cunninglie,
All houses, gutters, sincks and creuices,
Haue carefullie beene sought for, for the blood.
Yet theres no instaunce found in any place.
Enter a Porter and a gentleman.
But who is that, that brings a heauy loade,
Behinde him on a painefull porters backe.
Gen.
Praie gentlemen which call you Beeches shoppe?
3. Neig.
This is the place, what wold you with the man?
Gen.
Nothing with him, I heare the man is dead,
And if he be not, I haue lost my paines.
Lo.
Hees dead indeede, but yet we cannot finde,
What is become of halfe his hopelesse bodie,
His head and legges are found but for the rest,
No man can tell what is become of it.
Gen.
Then I doe thinke I can resolue your doubt,
And bring you certaine tydings of the rest,
And if you know his doublet and his shirt:
As for the bodie it is so abus'd.
That no man can take notice whoes it was,
Set downe this burthen of anothers shame,
What do you know the doublet and the shirt.
Ex. Porter.
Lo.
This is the doublet, these the seuered limmes,
Which late were ioyned to that mangled trunke:
Lay them together see if they can make,
Among them all a sound and solid man.
3. neigh.
They all agree, but yet they cannot make,
That sound and whole, which a remorsles hand
Hath seuered with a knife of crueltie:
But say good sir, where did you finde this out?
Gent.
Walking betime by Paris-garden ditch,
Hauing my Water Spaniell by my side,
Where this same trunke lay drowned in a ditch,
My Spaniell gan to sent, to barke, to plunge,
Into the water and came foorth againe,
And fawnd on me, as if a man should say,
Helpe out a man that heere lyes murthered.
At first I tooke delight to see the dog,
Thinking in vaine some game did there lye hid,
Amongst the Nettles growing neere the banke:
But when no game, nor any thing appear'd,
That might produce the Spaniell to this sport,
I gan to rate and beate the harmlesse Cur,
Thinking to make him leaue to follow me,
But words, nor blowes, could mooue the dog away,
But still he plung'd, he diu'd, he barkt, he ran
Still to my side, as if it were for helpe:
I seeing this, did make the ditch be dragd,
Where then was found this body as you see,
With great amazement to the lookers on.
3.
Beholde the mightie miracles of God,
That sencelesse things should propagate their sinne,
That are more beastiall farre then beastlinesse,
Of any creature most insensible.
2 neigh.
Cease we to wonder at Gods wondrous works,
And let vs labour for to bring to light,
Those masked fiends that thus dishonor him:
This sack is new, and loe beholde his marke
Remaines vpon it, which did sell the bag,
Amongst the Salters we shall finde it out,
When, and to whom, this bloody bag was sold.
3.
Tis very likely, let no paines be spar'd,
To bring it out, if it be possible,
Twere pitty such a murther should remaine
Vnpunished, mongst Turkes and Infidels.
1. neigh.
Sirs, I do know the man that solde this bag,
And if you please, Ile fetch him presently?
Gent.
With all our harts, how say you Gentlemen?
3.
I pray you do it, we will tarry heere:
Exit 1. neigh.
And let the eyes of euery passenger
Be satisfied, which may example be,
How they commit so dreadfull wickednesse.
Ent. wom.
And please your maisterships the boy is dead.
3. neigh.
Tis very strange, that hauing many wounds,
So terrible, so ghastlie, which is more,
Hauing the hammer sticking in his head,
That he should liue and stirre from Friday night,
To Sunday morning, and euen then depart,
When that his Maisters mangled course were found,
Bring him foorth too, perchance the murtherers
May haue their hearts touched with due remorse,
Viewing their deeds of damned wickednesse.
Bring forth the boye and lay him by Beech.
1. neigh.
Here is the Salters man that solde the bag,
Gent.
My friend, how long since did you sell that bag?
And vnto whom, if you remember it?
Sal.
I sould the bag good sir but yesterday,
Vnto a maide, I do not know her name.
3. neigh.
Nor where she dwels.
Sal.
No certeinly.
2. neigh.
But what apparell had she on her back?
Sal.
I do not well remember what she wore,
But if I saw her I should know her sure.
3. neigh.
Go round about to euery neighbors house,
And will them shew their maides immediatly:
God graunt we may finde out the murtherers.
Go to one house, and knock at doore, asking,
Bring forth such maides as are within your house.
1. housekeeper.
I haue but one, ile send her downe to you.
3. neigh.
Is this the maide.
Come out maide.
Salt.
No sir, this is not she.
Go to another, &c.
How many maides do dwell within this house?
2. house.
Her's nere a woman here, except my wife.
Go to Merryes.
3. neigh.
Whose house is this?
An honest ciuill mans, cald Maister Merry,
Who I dare be sworne, would neuer do so great a murther
But you may aske heere to for fashion sake.
Rachel sits in the shop.
3.
How now faire maide, dwels any here but you?
Thou hast too true a face for such a deed.
Rach.
No gentle sir, my brother keepes no more.
3. neigh.
This is not she?
Salt.
No truly gentlemā.
Ex. R.
3.
This will not serue, we cannot finde her out,
Bring in those bodyes, it growes towards night,
God bring these damn'd murtherers at length to light.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Merry and Rachel.
Mer.
Why go the neighbours round about the streete
To euery house? what hast thou heard the cause?
Rach.
They go about with that same Salters man,
Of whom I bought the bag but yesterday,
To see if he can know the maide againe
Which bought it, this I thinke the very cause.
Mer.
How were my sences ouercome with feare,
That I could not foresee this ieopardy:
For had I brought the bag away with me,
They had not had this meanes to finde it out.
Hide thee aboue least that the Salters man,
Take notice of thee that thou art the maide,
And by that knowledge we be all vndone.
Rach.
That feare is past, I sawe, I spake with him,
Yet he denies that I did buy the bag:
Besides, the neighbors haue no doubt of you,
Saying you are an honest harmelesse man,
And made enquirie heere for fashion sake.
Mer.
My former life, deserues their good conceits,
Were it not blemisht with this treacherie.
My heart is merier then it was before,
For now I hope the greatest feare is past,
The hammer is denyed, the bag vnknowne,
Now there is left no meanes to bring it out,
Rach.
When saw you Harry Williams?
Me.
Why to day
I met him comming home from Powles Crosse,
Where he had beene to heare a Sermon.
Rach.
Why brought you not the man along with you
To come to dinner, that we might perswade
Him to continue in his secrecie.
Mer.
I did intreate him, but he would not come,
But vow'd to be as secret as my selfe.
Rach.
What, did he sweare?
Mer.
What neede you aske me that?
You know we neuer heard him sweare an othe.
But since he hath conceal'd the thing thus long,
I hope in God he will conceale it still.
Rach.
Pray God he do, and then I haue no doubt,
But God will ouerpasse this greeuous sinne,
If you lament with true vnfained teares,
And seeke to liue the remnant of your yeares,
In Gods true feare with vpright conscience.
Mer.
If it would please him pardon this amisse,
And rid my body from the open shame,
That doth attend this deed, being brought to light,
I would endeuour all my comming dayes,
To please my maker, and exalt his praise:
But it growes late, come bring me to my bed,
That I may rest my sorrow charged head.
Rach.
Rest still in calme secure tranquillitie,
And ouer-blowe this storme of mightie feare,
With pleasant gales of hoped quietnesse,
Go when you will, I will attend, and pray,
To send this wofull night a cheerefull day.
Exeunt.
Enter Falleria and Sostrata weeping.
Fall.
Passe ore these rugged surrowes of laments,
And come to plainer pathes of cheerefulnesse,
Cease thy continuall showers of thy woe,
This duskie cloudes of thy vniust dispaire,
Farre from thy hart, and let a pleasing hope,
Of young Pertillos happy safe returne,
Establish all your ill deuining thoughts,
So shall you make me cheerefull that am sad,
And feede your hopes with fond illusions.
Sos.
I could be so, but my diuided soule,
Twixt feare and hope of young Pertillos life,
Cannot ariue at the desired port,
Of firme beleefe, vntill mine eyes do see,
Him that I sent to know the certainetie.
Fal.
To know the certaintie, of whom, of what,
Whome, whether when, or whereabout I praie,
Haue you dispatcht a frustrate messenger,
By heauen, and earth, my heart misguiseth me,
They will preuent my cunning pollicie.
To the people.
Why speake you not what winged Pegasus,
Is posted for your satisfaction.
Sos.
Me thinkes my speach reueales a hidden feare,
And that feare telles me, that the childe is dead.
Fall.
By sweete S. Andrew and my fathers soule,
I thinke the peeuish boy be too too well:
But speake, who was your passions harbinger.
Sos.
One that did kindle my misdoubting thoughtes,
With the large flame of his timiddity.
Fall.
Oh then I know the tinder of your feare,
Was young Allenso your white honnie sonne:
Confusion light vpon his timerous head,
For broching this large streame of fearefulnesse,
And all the plagues that damned furies feele,
For their forepassed bold iniquities:
Afflict you both for thus preuenting me.
Sos.
Preuenting you, of what, Fallerio speake,
For if you doe not, my poore hart will breake.
Fall.
Why of the good that I had purposed,
To young Pertillo, which I would conceale,
Sost.
If it were good, then we affect him deare,
And would adde furtherance to your enterprise.
Fall.
I say your close ease-dropping pollicies,
Haue hindred him of greater benefits,
Then I can euer do him after this:
If he liue long, and growe to riper sinne,
To the people
Heele cursse you both, that thus haue hindered
His freedome from this goale of sinfull flesh:
But let that passe, when went your harebrainde sonne,
That Cuckow vertue-singing, hatefull byrde,
To guarde the safetie of his better part,
Which he hath pend within the childish coope,
Of young Pertillos sweete securitie.
Sost.
That louely sonne, that comfort of my life,
That roote of vertuous magnamitie,
That doth affect with an vnfained loue,
That tender boy, which vnder heauens bright eye,
Deserueth most to be affected deare,
Went some two houres after the little boy
Was sent away, to keepe at Padua.
Fall.
What is a louelie? he's a loathsome toade,
A one eyde Cyclops, a stigmaticke brat,
That durst attempt to contradict my will,
And prie into my close intendements.
Enter Alenso sad.
Mas here a comes, his downcast sullen looke,
Is ouer waigh'd with mightie discontent,
I hope the brat is posted to his sire,
That he is growne so lazie of his pace:
Forgetfull of his dutie, and his tongue,
Is euen fast tyde with strings of heauinesse.
Come hether boye, sawst thou my obstacle,
That little Dromus that crept into my sonne,
With friendly hand, remoou'd and thrust away,
Say I, and please me with the sweetest note,
That euer relisht in a mortals mouth.
I am a Swan that singe before I dye,
Your note of shame and comming miserie.
Fall.
Speake softly sonne, let not thy mother heare,
She was almost dead before for very feare.
Alen.
Would I could roare as instruments of warre,
Wall battring Cannons, when the Gun-powder
Is toucht with part of Etnas Element,
Would I could bellow like enraged Buls,
Whose harts are full of indignation,
To be captiu'd by humaine pollicie:
Would I could thunder like Almightie Ioue,
That sends his farre heard voice to terrific,
The wicked hearts of earthly cittizens:
Then roaring, bellowing, thundring, I would say,
Mother lament, Pertillos made away.
Sost.
What is he dead, God giue me leaue to die,
And him repentance for his treacherie.
Falleth downe and dyeth.
Fall.
Neuer the like impietie was done,
A mother slaine, with terror of the sonne:
Helpe to repaire the damadge thou hast made,
And seeke to call back life with dilligence.
Allen.
Call back a happie creature to more woe,
That were a sinne, good Father let her go:
O happy I, if my tormenting smart,
Could rend like her's, my griefe afflicted heart,
Would your hard hart extend vnto your wife,
To make her liue and euerdying life.
What is she dead? oh then thrice happy she,
Whose eyes are bard from our callamitie.
Fall.
I all too soone, thou viper, paracide,
But for thy tongue thy mother had not dyde,
That belching voyce, that harsh night-rauen sound,
Vntimely sent thy mother to the ground,
Vpbraid my fault, I did deceiue my brother,
Cut out thy tongue, that slue thy carefull mother.
Allen.
God loue my soule, as I in heart reioyce,
See how in steade of teares and hartie sighes:
Of foulded armes and sorrow speaking lookes,
I doe behold with cheerefull countenance,
The liuelesse roote of my natiuitie:
And thanke her hasty soule that thence did goe,
To keepe her from her sonne and husbandes woe.
Now father giue attention to my tale:
I will not dip my griefe deciphering tongue,
In bitter wordes of reprehension,
Your deeds haue throwne more mischiefes on your head
Then wit or reason can remoue againe:
For to be briefe, Pertillo, oh that name
Cannot be nam'de without a hearty sigh,
Is murthered, and,
Fal.
What and, this newes is good.
Allen.
The men which you suborn'd to murther him.
Fal.
Better and better, then it cannot out,
Vnlesse your loue will be so scripulous,
That it will ouerthrowe your selfe and me.
Allen.
The best is last, and yet you hinder me,
The Duke of Padua hunting in the wood:
Accompanied with Lordes and gentlemen,
Fal.
Swones what of that? what good can come of that?
Allen.
Was made acquainted by the one of them,
(That had some little remnant of his life:)
With all your practice and conspiracie?
Fall.
I would that remnant had fled quicke to hell,
To fetch fierce findes to rend their carcases,
Rather then bring my life in ieopardie:
Is this the best, swones doe you mocke me sonne,
And make a iest at my calamitie.
Allen.
Not I good father, I will ease your woe,
If you but yeeld vnto my pollicie.
Fal.
Declare it then, my wits are now to seeke,
That peece of life hath so confounded mee,
That I am wholly ouercome with feare.
Allen.
The duke hath vow'd to prosecute your life,
But I will crosse his resolusion:
And keepe you from his furie well enough,
Ile weare your habit, I will seeme the man,
That did suborne the bloodie murtherers,
I will not stir from out this house of woe,
But waight the comming of the officers,
And answere for you fore the angrie Duke,
And if neede be suffer your punishment.
Fall.
Ile none of that, I do not like the last,
I loue thee dearer then I doe my life,
And all I did, was to aduance thy state,
To sunne bright beames of shining happinesse.
Allen.
Doubte not my life, for when I doe appeare
Before the duke, I being not the man,
He can inflict no punishment on mee.
Fall.
Mas thou saiest true, a cannot punish thee,
Thou wert no actor of their Tragædie:
But for my beard thou canst not counterfet,
And bring gray haires vppon thy downy chinne,
White frostes are neuer seene in summers spring.
Allen.
I bought a beard this day at Padua,
Such as our common actors vse to weare:
When youth would put on ages countenaunce,
So like in shape, in colour, and in all,
To that which growes vpon your aged face,
That were I dressed in your abilimentes,
Your selfe would scarcely know me from your selfe.
Fal.
That's excellent, what shape hast thou deuis'd,
To be my vizard to delude the worlde.
Allen.
Why thus, ile presentlie shaue off your haire,
And dresse you in a lowlie shepheardes weede,
Then you will seeme to haue the carefull charge,
Of some wealth bringing rich and fleecy flocke,
And so passe currant from suspition.
Fall.
This care of thine my sonne doth testifie,
Nature in thee hath firme predominance,
Can shake thee with their strongest violence:
In this disguise, ile see the end of thee,
That thou acquited, then maist succour me.
Allen.
I am assur'd to be exempt from woe.
People.
This plot will worke my certaine ouerthrow.
Fall.
I will beare hence thy mother, and my wife,
Vntimely murthered with true sorrowes knife.
Exit.
Allen.
Vntimely murthered, happy was that griefe,
Which hath abridg'd whole numbers, numberlesse:
Of hart surcharging deplorations.
She shall haue due and christian funerall,
And rest in peace amongst her auncestors,
As for our bodies, they shall be inter'd,
In rauening mawes, of Rauens, Puttockes, Crowes,
Of tatlin Magpies, and deathes harbingers,
That wilbe glutted with winde shaken limmes,
Of blood delighting hatefull murtherers:
And yet these many winged sepulchers,
Shall turne to earth, so I, and father shall,
At last attaine to earth by funerall,
Well I will prosecute my pollicy,
That wished death may end my miseries.
Exit.
Enter Cowley, and Williams.
Cow.
Still in your dumpes, good Harry yet at last,
Vtter your motiue of this heauinesse:
Why go you not vnto your maisters house?
What are you parted? if that be the cause,
I will prouide you of a better place.
Wil.
Who roues all day, at length may hit the marke,
That is the cause, because I cannot stay,
With him whose loue, is dearer then my life.
Cow.
Why fell you out? why did you part so soone?
Wil.
We fell not out, but feare hath parted vs.
Cow.
What did he feare your truth or honest life?
Wil.
No, no, your vnderstanding is but dimme,
We both were fearefull, and we both did part,
Because indeed we both were timerous.
Cow.
What accident begot your mutuall feare?
VVil.
That which my hart hath promis'd to conceale.
Cow.
Why now you fall into your auncient vaine.
VVil.
Tis vaine to vrge me from this silent vaine,
I will conceale it, though it breed my paine.
Cow.
It seemes to be a thing of consequence,
And therefore prithie Harry for my loue,
Open this close fast clasped mysterie.
VVil.
Were I assur'd my heart should haue release,
Of secret torment, and distemperature,
I would reueale it to you specially,
Whom I haue found my faithfull fauorite.
Cow.
Good Harrie Williams make no doubt of that,
Besides, your griefe reueald may haue reliefe,
Beyond your present expectation:
Then tell it Harry, what so ere it be,
And ease your hart of horror, me of doubt.
UUil.
What haue you heard of Beech of Lambert hill?
And of his boy which late were murthered.
Cow.
I heard, and sawe, their mangled carcases.
UUil.
But haue you heard of them that murthered them?
Cow.
No, would I had, for then Ide blase their shame,
And make them pay due penance for their sinne.
UUil.
This I misdoubted, therefore will forbeare,
To vtter what I thought to haue reueald.
Cow.
Knowst thou the actors of this murthrous deed,
And wilt conceale it now the deed is done?
Alas poore man, thou knowest not what thou doost,
Thou hast incur'd the danger of the lawe,
And thou mongst them must suffer punishment,
Vnlesse thou do confesse it presentlie.
VVil.
What? shall I then betray my maisters life?
Cow.
Better then hazard both thy life and soule,
To boulster out such barbarous villanie.
VVil.
My maister vnawares escapt my mouth,
But what the Lord doth please shall come to light,
Cannot be hid by humaine pollicie:
His haplesse hand hath wrought the fatall end,
Of Robert Beech and Thomas UUinchester.
Cow.
Could he alone do both those men to death?
Hadst thou no share in execution?
VVil.
Nor knew not of it, till the deed was done.
Cow.
If this be true, thou maist escape with life;
Confesse the truth vnto the officers,
And thou shalt finde the fauour of the lawe.
VVil.
If I offended, 'twas my Maisters loue,
That made me hide his great transgressions:
But I will be directed as you please,
So saue me God, as I am innocent.
Exeunt.
Enter Alenso in Falleriaes apparrell and herd, Falleria shauen in shepheards habilliments.
Fal.
Part of my selfe, now seemst thou wholy me,
And I seeme neither like my selfe, nor thee:
Thankes to thy care, and this vnknowne disguise.
I like a shepheard now must learne to know,
When to lead foorth my little bleating flock,
To pleasing pastures, and well fatting walkes,
In stormie time to driue them to the lee,
To cheere the pretie Lambes, whose bleating voice,
Doth craue the wished comfort of their dams,
To sound my merry Bag-pipe on the downes,
In shearing times poore shepheards festiuals,
And lastlie, how to driue the Wolfe away,
That seeke to make the little Lambes their pray.
Allen.
Ah haue you care to driue the Wolfe away,
From sillie creatures wanting intellecte,
And yet would suffer your deuouring thoughts,
To suck the blood of your dead brothers sonne,
Pertillo was, which you haue fed vpon,
But things past helpe may better be bewaild
With carefull teares, then finde a remedie,
Therefore for feare our practise be espide,
Let vs to question of our husbandrie,
How many Lambes fell from the middle flock,
Since I my selfe did take the latter view.
Enter Vesuuio, Turqual. Alberto.
Fall.
Some viue and twenty, whereof two are dead,
But three and twenty scud about the fields,
That glads my hart to ze their iollitie.
Vesu.
This is the man, conferring of his Lambes,
That slew a Lambe worth all his flock besides.
Alen.
When is the time to let the Weathers blood,
The forward spring, that had such store of grasse,
Hath fild them full of ranke vnwholsome blood,
Which must be purg'd, else when the winter comes,
The rot will leaue me nothing but their skinnes.
Fall.
Chil let om blood, but yet it is no time,
Vntill the zygne be gone below the hart.
Vesu.
Forbeare a while this idle businesse,
And talke of matters of more consequence.
Fall.
Che tell you plaine, you are no honest man,
To call a shepheards care an idle toye,
What though we haue a little merry sport,
With flowrie gyrlonds, and an Oaten pipe,
And iolly friskins on a holly-day,
Yet is a shepheards cure, a greater carke,
Then sweating Plough-men with their busie warke.
Vesu.
Hence leaue your sheepish ceremoniall,
And now Fallerio, in the Princes name,
I do arrest you, for the cruell murther
Of young Pertillo left vnto your charge,
Which you discharged with a bloody writ,
Sign'd by the hands of those you did suborne:
Nay looke not strange, we haue such euidence,
That cannot be deluded any way:
Allen.
Alas my Lords, I know not what you say,
As for my Nephew, he I hope is well,
I sent him yesterday to Padua.
Alber.
I, he is well, in such a vengers handes,
As will not winck at your iniquity.
Allen.
By heauen and earth my soule is innocent,
Say what you will, I know my conscience.
Fal.
To be afflicted with a scourge of care,
Which my oreweaning rashnesse did infflict.
Turq.
Come beare him hence, expostulate no more,
That heart that could inuent such treachery,
Can teach his face to braue it cunninglie.
Alen.
I do defie your accusations,
Let me haue iustice I will answere it.
Vesuu.
So beare him hence, I meane to stay behinde,
To take possession of his goods and landes:
For the Dukes vse, it is too manifest.
Allen.
I hope youle answere anything you doe,
My Lord Vesuuio you shall answere it:
And all the rest that vse extremities.
Alber.
I to the Dukes Exchecker not to you.
Exeunt omnes manet Falleria.
Fal.
Thus shades are caught when substances are fled,
Indeede they haue my garments, but my selfe,
Am close enough from their discouerie,
But not so close but that my verie soule,
Is ract with tormentes for Pertillos death;
I am Acteon, I doe beare about
My hornes of shame and inhumanitie,
My thoughts, like hounds which late did flatter me:
With hope of great succeeding benefits.
Now gin to teare my care-tormented heart,
With feare of death and tortring punishment,
These are the stings when as our consciences,
Are stuf'd and clogd with close concealed crimes,
And striue to beare a smoother countenaunce:
Then rugged care would willingly permit,
Ile to the Court to see Allenso free,
That he may then relieue my pouertie.
Exit.
Enter Constable, three watchmen with Halberdes.
Con.
Who would haue thought of all the men aliue,
That Thomas Merry would haue done this deede:
So full of ruth and monstrous wickednesse.
1. wat.
Of all the men that liue in London walles.
I would haue thought that Merry had bin free,
2. wat.
Is this the fruites of Saint-like Puritans,
I neuer like such damn'd hipocrisie.
3. wat.
He would not loase a sermon for a pound,
An oath he thought would rend his iawes in twaine,
An idle word did whet Gods vengeance on:
And yet two murthers were not scripulous,
Such close illusions God will bring to light,
And ouerthrowe the workers with his might.
Con.
This is the house, come let vs knocke at dore,
I see a light they are not all in bed:
Knockes, Rachell comes downe.
How now faire maide, is your brother vp?
Rach.
He's not within sir, would you speake with him?
Con.
You doe but iest, I knew he is within,
And I must needes go vppe and speake with him.
Rach.
In deede good sir, he is in bed asleepe,
And I was loath to trouble him to night.
Con.
Well sister, I am sorry for your sake,
But for your brother, he is knowne to be
A damned villaine and an hipocrite,
Rachell, I charge thee in her highnesse name,
To go with vs to prison presently.
Rach.
To prison sir, alas what haue I done?
Con:
You know that best, but euery one doe know,
And his poore boy that dwelt at Lambert hill.
Rach.
I murthered, my brother knowes that I
Did not consent to either of their deathes.
Con.
That must be tride, where doth your brother lye?
Rach.
Here in his bed, me thinks he's not a sleepe.
Con.
Now maister Merry, are you in a sweate.
Throwes his night cap away.
Merry
sigh.
No verily, I am not in a sweate.
Con.
Some sodaine feare affrights you, whats the cause?
Mer.
Nothing but that you wak'd me vnawares.
Con.
In the Queenes name I doe commaund you rise,
And presently to goe along with vs.
Riseth vp.
Mer.
With all my hart, what doe you know the cause?
Con.
We partly doe, when saw you maister Beech?
Mer.
I doe not well remember who you meane.
Con.
Not Beech the chaundler vpon 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 harmelesse 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 harmelesse 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 any thing,
Bring them away.
Rach.
Ah brother woe is me,
Mer.
I comfortlesse will helpe to comfort thee.
Exeunt.
Enter Trueth.
Weepe, weepe poore soules, & enterchange your woes,
Now Merry change thy name and countenance:
Smile not, thou wretched creature, least in scorne,
Thou smile to thinke on thy extremities,
Thy sisters death neede not increase the coumpt,
For thou couldst neuer number them before:
Gentles helpe out with this suppose I pray,
And thinke it truth for Truth dooth tell the tale.
Merry by lawe conuict, as principall,
Receiues his doome, to hang till he be dead,
And afterwards for to be hangd in chaines:
Williams and Rachell likewise are conuict
For their concealement, UUilliams craues his booke,
And so receaues a brond of infamie.
But wretched Rachels sexe denies that grace,
And therefore dooth receiue a doome of death,
To dye with him, whose sinnes she did conceale.
Your eyes shall witnesse of their shaded tipes,
Which many heere did see perform'd indeed:
As for Fallerio, not his homelie weedes,
His beardlesse face, nor counterfetted speech,
Can shield him from deserued punishment:
But what he thinkes shall rid him from suspect,
Shall drench him in more waues of wretchednesse,
Pulling his sonne into relentlesse iawes,
Of hungrie death, on tree of infamie:
Heere comes the Duke that doomes them both to die,
Next Merries death shall end this Tragedie.
Exit.
Enter Duke, Vesuuio, Turq. Alberto: and Fallerio disguised.
Duke.
Where is that Syren, that incarnate fiend,
Monster of Nature, spectacle of shame,
Blot and confusion of his familie,
False seeming semblance of true-dealing trust,
I meane Fallerio bloody murtherer:
Hath he confest his cursed treacherie,
Or will he stand to prooue his innocence.
Vesu.
We haue attach'de Fallerio gracious Lord,
And did accuse him with Pertillos death:
Neither the meanes, nor author of the same,
His mightie vowes and protestations,
Do almost seeme to pleade integritie,
But that we all do know the contrarie.
Fall.
I know your error stricks your knowledge blinde,
His seeming me, doth so delude your minde.
People.
Duke.
Then bring him forth, to answer for himselfe,
Since he stands stoutly to denie the deed:
Alberto and other fetch Alenso.
His sonne can witnesse, that the dying man,
Accusde Fallerio for his treacherie,
Stand forth thou close disguised hipocrite,
And speake directlie to these articles,
First, didst thou hire two bloodie murtherers
To massacre Pertillo in a wood?
Alen.
I neuer did suborne such murtherers,
But euer lou'd Pertillo as my life.
Duke.
Thy sonne can witnesse to the contrarie.
Alen.
I haue no sonne to testifie so much.
Fal.
No, for his grauitie is counterfeit,
Pluck of his beard, and you will sweare it so.
Vesu.
Haue you no sonne? doth not Alenso liue?
Alen.
Alenso liues, but is no sonne of mine.
Alber.
Indeed his better part had not his source,
From thy corrupted vice affecting hart,
For vertue is the marke he aimeth at.
Duke.
I dare be sworne that Sostrata would blush,
Shouldst thou deny Alenso for thy sonne.
Alen.
Nay did she liue, she would not challenge me,
To be the father of that haplesse sonne.
Turq.
Nay, then anon you will denie your selfe,
To be your selfe, vniust Fallerio.
Alen.
I do confesse my selfe, to be my selfe,
But will not answere to Fallerio.
Duke.
Not to Fallerio, this is excellent,
You are the man was cal'd Fallerio.
He neuer breathed yet that cal'd me so,
Except he were deceiu'd as you are now.
Duke.
This impudence shall not excuse your fault,
You are well knowne to be Fallerio,
The wicked husband of dead Sostrata,
And father to the vertuous Alenso,
And euen as sure as all these certeinties,
Thou didst contriue thy little Nephewes death.
Alen.
True, for I am nor false Fallerio,
Husband, nor father, as you do suggest,
And therefore did not hire the murtherers:
Which to be true acknowledge with your eyes.
Puls off his disguise.
Duke.
How now my Lords, this is a myracle,
To shake off thirtie yeares so sodeinlie,
And turne from feeble age to flourishing youth.
Alb.
But he my Lord that wrought this miracle,
Is not of power to free himselfe from death,
Through the performance of this suddaine change.
Duke.
No, were he the chiefest hope of Christendome,
He should not liue for this presumption:
Vse no excuse, Alenso for thy life,
My doome of death shall be irreuocable.
Alen.
Ill fare his soule, that would extenuate
The rigor of your life confounding doome:
I am prepar'd with all my hart to die,
For thats th'end of humaine miserie.
Duke.
Then thus, you shall be hang'd immediatly,
For your illusion of the Magistrates,
With borrowed shapes of false antiquitie.
Alen.
Thrice happy sentence, which I do imbrace,
With a more feruent and vnfained zeale,
Then an ambicious rule desiring man,
Would do a Iem bedecked Diadem,
Which brings more watchfull cares and discontent,
Then pompe, or honor, can remunerate:
When I am dead, let it be said of me,
Fal.
That were a freedome worse then seruitude,
To cruell Turke, or damned Infidell:
Most righteous Iudge, I do appeale for Iustice,
Iustice on him that hath deserued death,
Not on Alenso, he is innocent.
Alen.
But I am guiltie of abbetting him,
Contrarie to his Maiesties Edict,
And therefore death is meritorious.
Fall.
I am the wretch that did subborne the slaues,
To murther poore Pertillo in the wood,
Spare, spare, Alenso, he is innocent.
Duke.
What strange appeale is this, we know thee not,
None but Fallerio is accusde hereof.
Alen.
Then father get you hence, depart in time,
Least being knowne you suffer for the crime.
Fal.
Depart, and leaue thee clad in horrors cloake,
And suffer death for true affection:
Although my soule be guiltie of more sinne,
Then euer sinfull soule were guiltie of:
Yet fiends of hell would neuer suffer this,
I am thy father, though vnworthy so:
Oh still I see these weedes do seare your eyes:
I am Fallerio, make no doubt of me.
Put off.
Though thus disguisde, in habite, countenance,
Only to scape the terror of the lawe.
Alen.
And I Alenso that did succour him,
Gainst your commaundement, mightie Soueraigne:
Ponder your oath, your vowe, as God did liue,
I should not liue, if I did rescue him:
I did, God liues, and will reuenge it home,
If you defer my condigne punishment.
Duke.
Assure your selues you both shall suffer death:
But for Fallerio, he shall hang in chaines,
After he's dead, for he was principall.
Fall.
Vnsauerie Woormewood, Hemlock, bitter gall,
Brings no such bad, vnrelisht, sower taste,
Brings to the eares of poore Fallerio.
Not for my selfe but for Allensoes sake,
Whome I haue murthered by my trechery:
Ah my dread Lord, if any little sparke,
Of melting pittie doth remaine aliue,
And not extinguisht by my impious deedes,
Oh kindle it vnto a happie flame,
To light Allenso from this miserie;
Which through dim death he's like to fall into.
Allen.
That were to ouerthrow my soule and all,
Should you reuerse this sentence of my death:
My selfe would play the death man on my selfe,
And ouertake your swift and winged soule,
Ere churlish Caron had transported you,
Vnto the fields of sad Proserpina.
Duke.
Cease, cease Fallerio, in thy bootlesse prayers,
I am resolu'd, I am inexorable,
Uesuuio, see their iudgement be performde,
And vse Alenso with all clemencie:
Prouided that the lawe be satisfied.
Exit Duke and Alberto.
Vesu.
It shall be done with all respectiuenesse,
Haue you no doubt of that my gratious Lord.
Fal.
Here is a mercie mixt with equitie,
To shew him fauour, but cut off his head.
Alen.
My reuerend father, pacifie your selfe,
I can, and will, indure the stroake of death,
Were his appearance nere so horrible,
To meete Pertillo in another world.
Fal.
Thou shouldst haue tarried vntill natures course
Had beene extinct, that thou oregrowne with age,
Mightst die the death of thy progenitors,
Twas not thy meanes he died so soddenly,
But mine, that causing his, haue murthred thee.
Alen.
But yet I slew my mother, did I not?
Fal.
I, with reporting of my villanie,
Had force enough to giue a sodaine death:
Ah sister, sister, now I call to minde,
Thy dying wordes now prou'd a prophesie,
If you deale ill with this distressed childe:
God will no doubt reuenge the innocent,
I haue delt ill, and God hath tane reuenge.
Allen.
Now let vs leaue remembrance of past deedes,
And thinke on that which more concerneth vs.
Fal.
With all my hart thou euer wert the spur,
Which prict me on to any godlinesse:
And now thou doest indeuor to incite,
Me make my parting peace with God and men:
I doe confesse euen from my verie soule,
My hainous sinne and grieuous wickednesse,
Against my maker manie thousand waies:
Abimo cordis I repent my selfe,
Of all my sinnes against his maiestie:
And heauenly father lay not to my charge,
The death of poore Pertillo and those men,
Which I suborn'd to be his murtherers,
When I appeare before thy heauenlie throne,
To haue my sentence, or of life or death.
Uesu.
Amen, amen, and God continue still,
These mercie mouing meditations.
Allen.
And thou great God which art omnipotent,
Powerfull enough for to redeeme our soules:
Euen from the verie gates of gaping hell,
Forgiue our sinnes, and wash away our faults;
In the sweete riuer of that precious blood,
Which thy deare sonne did shed in Galgotha,
For the remission of all contrite soules.
Fal.
Forgiue thy death my thrice beloued sonne.
Allen.
I doe, and father pardon my misdeedes,
Of disobedience and vnthankfullnesse.
Fal.
Thou neuer yet wert disobedient,
Vnlesse I did commaund vnlawfulnesse,
Thou art too bounteous thus to guerdon me.
Allen.
Come let vs kisse and thus imbrace in death,
Euen when you will come bring vs to the place:
Where we may consumate our wretchednesse,
And change it for eternall hapinesse.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Merry and Rachel to execution with Officers with Halberdes, the Hangman with a lather. &c.
Mer.
Now sister Rachell is the houre come,
Wherein we both must satisfie the law,
For Beeches death and harmelesse Winchester:
Weepe not sweete sister, for that cannot helpe,
I doe confesse fore all this company,
That thou wert neuer priuie to their deathes,
But onelie helpest me when the deede was done,
To wipe the blood and hide away my sinne,
And since this fault hath brought thee to this shame,
I doe intreate thee on my bended knee,
To pardon me for thus offending thee.
Rach.
I doe forgiue you from my verie soule,
And thinke not that I shed these store of teares,
For that I price my life, or feare to dye,
Though I confesse the manner of my death,
Is much more grieueuous then my death it selfe;
But I lament for that it hath beene said,
I was the author of this crueltie,
And did produce you to this wicked deede,
Whereof God knowes that I am innocent.
Mer.
Indeed thou art, thy conscience is at peace,
Goe vp the lather.
And feeles no terror for such wickednesse,
Mine hath beene vexed but is now at rest,
For that I am assur'd my hainous sinne:
Shall neuer rise in iudgement gainst my soule,
But that the blood of Iesus Christ hath power,
One thing good people, witnesse here with me,
That I do dye in perfect charitie,
And do forgiue, as I would be forgiuen,
First of my God, and then of all the world:
Cease publishing that I haue beene a man,
Train'd vp in murther, or in crueltie,
For fore this time, this time is all too soone,
I neuer slue or did consent to kill,
So helpe me God as this I speake is true:
I could say something of my innocence,
In fornication and adulterie,
But I confesse the iustest man aliue
That beares about the frailtie of a man,
Cannot excuse himselfe from daily sinne,
In thought, in word, and deed, such was my life,
I neuer hated Beech in all my life,
Onely desire of money which he had,
And the inciting of that foe of man,
That greedie gulfe, that great Lauiathan,
Did halle me on to these callamities,
For which, euen now my very soule dooth bleede:
God strengthen me with patience to endure,
This chastisement, which I confesse too small
A punishment for this my hainous sinne:
Oh be couragious sister, fight it well,
We shall be crown'd with immortallitie.
Rach.
I will not faint, but combat manfully,
Christ is of power to helpe and strengthen me.
Officer.
I pray make hast, the hower is almost past.
Mer.
I am prepar'd, oh God receiue my soule,
Forgiue my sinnes, for they are numberlesse,
Receiue me God, for now I come to thee.
Turne of the Lather: Rachel shrinketh.
Offi.
Nay shrinke not woman, haue a cheerefull hart.
Rach.
I, so I do, and yet this sinfull flesh,
Will be rebellious gainst my willing spirit.
Although they seeme the staires of infamie:
Let me be merror to ensuing times,
And teach all sisters how they do conceale,
The wicked deeds, of brethren, or of friends,
I not repent me of my loue to him,
But that thereby I haue prouoked God,
To heauie wrath and indignation,
Which turne away great God, for Christes sake.
Ah Harry Williams, thou wert chiefest cause,
That I do drinke of this most bitter cup,
For hadst thou opened Beeches death at first,
The boy had liu'd, and thou hadst sau'd my life:
But thou art bronded with a marke of shame,
And I forgiue thee from my very soule,
Let him and me, learne all that heare of this,
To vtter brothers or their maisters misse,
Conceale no murther, least it do beget,
More bloody deeds of like deformitie.
Thus God forgiue my sinnes, receiue my soule,
And though my dinner be of bitter death,
I hope my soule shall sup with Iesus Christ,
And see his presence euerlastingly.
Dyeth.
Offi.
The Lord of heauen haue mercy on her soule,
And teach all other by this spectacle,
To shunne such dangers as she ran into,
By her misguided taciturnitie:
Cut downe their bodies, giue hers funerall,
But let his body be conueyed hence,
To Mile-end greene, and there be hang'd in chaines.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Truthe.
Tru.
See here the end of lucre and desire
Of riches, gotten by vnlawfull meanes,
What monstrous euils this hath brought to passe,
Your scarce drie eyes giue testimoniall,
To open scandall, and contemptuous death.
Enter Homicide and Couetousnesse.
But heere come they that wrought these deeds of ruthe,
As if they meant to plot new wickednesse:
Whether so fast, you damned miscreants?
Yee vaine deluders of the credulous,
That seeke to traine men to destruction.
Mur.
Why we will on, to set more harmes a flote,
That I may swim in riuers of warme blood,
Out-flowing from the sides of Innocents.
Coue.
I will intice the greedie minded soule,
To pull the fruite from the forbidden tree:
Yet Tantall like, he shall but glut his eye,
Nor feede his body with salubrious fruite,
Tru.
Hence Stigmaticks, you shall not harbor heare;
To practice execrable butcheries:
My selfe will bring your close designes to light,
And ouerthrow your vilde conspiracies,
No hart shall intertaine a murthrous thought,
Within the sea imbracing continent,
Where faire Eliza Prince of pietie,
Doth weare the peace adorned Diadem.
Coue.
Mauger the worst, I will haue many harts,
That shall affect my secret whisperings,
The chinck of golde is such a pleasing crie,
That all men wish to heare such harmony,
And I will place sterne murther by my side,
That we may do more harmes, then haughty pride.
Homi.
Truth, now farewell, hereafter thou shalt see,
Ile vexe thee more with many tragedies.
Truth.
The more the pitty, would the hart of man,
Were not so open wide to entertaine,
The harmfull baites, of selfe deuouring sinne,
But from the first vnto the latter times,
It hath and will be so eternally,
Now it remaines to haue your good aduice,
There is a Barke that newly rigd for sea,
Vnmand, vnfurnishd with munition:
She must incounter with a greater foe,
Then great Alcydes slue in Lerna Lake,
Would you be pleasd to man this willing barke,
With good conceits of her intencion,
To store her with the thundring furniture,
Of smoothest smiles, and pleasing plaudiats,
She shall be able to endure the shock,
Of snarling Zoylus, and his cursed crue,
That seekes to sincke her in reproches waues,
And may perchance obteine a victorie,
Gainst curious carpes, and fawning Parasites:
But if you suffer her for want of ayde,
To be orewhelmd by her insulting foes,
Oh then she sinckes, that meant to passe the flood,
With stronger force to do her countrie good:
It resteth thus, whether she liue or dye,
She is your Beades-man euerlastinglie.
FINIS.
Rob. Yarington.
Laus Deo.
| Two Lamentable Tragedies | |