r Gef_. Marke how the mischeife lookes.

_Alex_. I doe defie thy mallice, thou falce Judge.
Goe to; my [Mrs.] I appeal to, she that knowes my vertue and Integrity.

_Sir Hu_. Away with him toth Jayle: a publique Sessions may [ere] long
from thence deliver him to the gallowes.

_Const_. Come, Sir.
[_Exeunt Const, and Alex_.

_Sir Hu_. Madam, for you and for your Sonn, your crimes
Being soe manifest, I wish you would
Prepare your selves for heaven. Meantime you must remaine
Saffe prissoners untill the Judges sitt,
Who best may give a sentence on your fact.

_Tho_. And what for me?

_Sir Gef_. I, what for him, Mr Justice?

_Sir Hu_. Sure your words
Rather proceed from some distraction
Then from similitude of truth. You may
Begon, we do quitt you.

_Tho_. And Ile quit my selfe
Of what you will not, [of] my hated life.
You have condemnd a lady who may claime
As many slaves to wait on her in death
As the most superstitious _Indian_ prince
(That carries servants to attend ith grave)
Can by's prerogative; nor shall she want
Waiters, while you and I, my reverend Judg,
Are within reach of one another.
[_Offers att the Record_.

_Suc_. Death, Sir!
Dare you presume to draw before us men
Of stout performance?

_Sir Gef_. You sir, weele have you hangd to, sir, with the Steward.

_Sir Hu_. We doe forgive him; twas his passion.
Tis manly to forbeare infirmities
In noble soules.
Away with the delinquents, officers![133]

_Sir Gef_.[134] I charge you looke to them: there is
some rescue intended, I warrant you.

_Con_. Sir, yonder are some six or seaven without,
Attird like Masquers, that will not be denied
Admittance.

_Sir Hu_. What are they?

_Con_. [Faith[135]] we know not,
Nor will they tell us, only this they say:
Heareing of the lady _Marlowe's_ condemnation,
They are come
With shew of death to make her more prepard fort.

_Sir Hu_. We will deny none of her freinds to see her;
They can intend noe rescue.

_Con_. Noe, my life ont, sir: they come unarm'd.

_Sir Hu_. Be still; letts see this misterie.

_Florish, Horrid Musike. Enter Death, Gri., and Furies_.

_Gri_. If in charnell houses, Caves,
Horrid grots and mossie graves,
Where the mandraks hideous howles
Welcome bodies voide of soules,
My power extends, why may not I
Hugg those who are condemd to dy?
Grimme _Dispaire_, arise and bring
_Horror_ with thee and the king
Of our dull regions