A Collection Of Old English Plays, Vol. IV. | Page 6

not although she held it deare; She left him yonge, the greater cause of feare.
Fall. Knew she my mind, it would recall her life, [To the people. And like a staring Commet she would moove Our harts to think of desolation.-- Scrivenor, have you certified the Will?
Scri. I have.
Fall. Then theres two Duckets for your paines.
Scri. Thankes, gentle sir, and for this time farewell. [Exit.
Sost. Come pretty coozen, cozened by grim death Of thy most carefull parents all too soone; Weepe not, sweete boye, thou shalt have cause to say, Thy Aunt was kinde, though parents lye in claye.
Pert. But give me leave first to lament the losse, Of my deere parents, nature bindeth me, To waile the death of those that gave me life, And if I live untill I be a man, I will erect a sumptuous monument, And leave remembrance to ensuing times Of kind Pandino and Armenia.
Allen. That shall not neede; my father will erect That sad memoriall of their timeles[5] death, And at that tombe we will lament and say Soft lye the bones of faire Armenia.
Fall. Surcease,_ Allenso_; thats a booteless cost, The Will imports no such iniunction: I will not spend my little Nephewes wealth, In such vaine toyes; they shall have funerall, But with no stately ceremoniall pompe, Thats good for nought but fooles to gase uppon. Live thou in hope to have thine unckles land.
Allen. His land! why, father, you have land enough, And more by much then I do know to use: I would his vertues would in me survive, So should my Unckle seeme in me alive. 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 have possession of my brothers land, His goods and all untill he come of age To rule and governe such possessions.-- That shalbe never, or ile misse my marke, Till I surrender up my life to death: And then my Sonne shalbe his fathers heire, And mount aloft to honors happy chaire.
[Exeunt omnes.

[SCENE III.]
_Enter Merry, solus_.
Beech hath a score of pounds to helpe his neede, And I may starve ere he will lend it me: But in dispight ile have 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 conceive. 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 resolv'd he shall be murthered to [_sic_]; 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 love, the other for reward, Will never tell the world my close intent. My conscience saith it is a damned deede To traine one foorth, and slay him privily. Peace, conscience, peace, thou art too scripulous [_sic_]; Gaine doth attend[6] 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 lives; And therefore I will place this hammer here, And take it as I follow Beech up staires, That suddenlie, before he is aware, I may with blowes dash out his hatefull braines.-- Hoe, Rachell, bring my cloake; look to the house, I will returne againe immediately.
Rach. Here it is brother, I pray you stay not long; Guesse[7] will come in, 'tis almost supper time. [_Ex. Ra_.
Mer. Let others suppe, ile make a bloudier feast Then ever yet was drest in Merryes house. Be like thy selfe then, have a merrie hart, Thou shalt have gold to mend thy povertie, And after this live ever 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 have your company.
Beech. Know you their names?
Mer. No truely, nor the men. I never 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, above all other times; Tis Friday night besides, and Bartholomew eve, Therefore good neighbour make my just excuse.
Mer. In trueth they told me that you should not stay, Goe but