away,
That I had almost quite forgot my selfe.
Helpe me, deare sister, to convey from hence
The spectacle of inhumanitie.

_Rach_. Whether would you convey this lumpe of dust
Untimely murthered by your lucklesse hand?

_Mer_. To the lowe roome, where we will cover it,
With Fagots, till the evening doe approche:
In the meane time I will bethinke my selfe,
How I may best convey it foorth of doores;
For if we keepe it longer in the house,
The savour will be felt throughout the streete,
Which will betray us to destruction.
Oh what a horror brings this beastlinesse,
This chiefe of sinnes, this self-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 injurie.
Hould thou his heeles, ile bear his wounded head:
Would he did live, so I myself were dead!

[_Bring down the body, and cover it over 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_. Look every 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 begetteth feare.
But go, my true, though wofull comforter,
Wipe up the blood in every place above,
So that no drop be found about the house:
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 us seeke to save
Our names, our fames, our lives and all we have.

[_Exeunt_.

[SCENE IV.]

_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 twelve 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 t