--
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