nefit.
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. [_Give him his mony_.
Onely forbeare to lay thy ruder handes
Upon the poore mistrustlesse tender child.
As for our vowes, feare not their violence;
God will forgive on hartie penitence.

1 _Mur_. Thou Eunuch, Capon, Dastard, fast and loose,
Thou weathercocke of mutabilitie,
White-livered Paisant, wilt thou vowe and sweare,
Face and make semblance with thy bagpipe othes
Of that thou never meanst to execute?
Pure cowardice, for feare to cracke 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 heaven to cut his line[20] of life,
And must supplie the knife of _Atropos_,
And if it doe not, let this maister-piece
(Which nature lent the world to wonder at)
Be slit in Carbonadoes[21] for the jawes
Of some men-eating hungrie Canniball.
By heaven ile kill him onely for this cause,
For that he came of vertuous Auncestors.

2 _m_. But by that God which made that wondrous globe,
Wherein is seene his powerfull dietie,[22]
Thou shalt not kill him maugre all thy spight.
Sweare, and forsweare thyselfe ten thousand times.
Awake _Pertillo_, for thou art betrai'd;
This bloody slave intends to murther thee. [_Draw both_.

1 _mur_. Both him, and all, that dare to rescue him.

_Per_. Wherefore? because I slept without your leave?
Forgive my fault, ile never sleepe againe.

2 _Mur_. No Child, thy wicked Unckle hath suborn'd
Both him and me to take thy life away,
Which I would save, but that this hellish impe
Will not content to spare thy guiltlesse blood.

_Per_. Why should _Falleria_ seeke to have 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-begetting good!
That safety[23] should procure the losse of blood!

2 _mur_. Those lands and goods, thy father got with paine,
Are swords wherewith his little sonne is slaine.

1 _mu_. Then let our swords let out his guiltlesse life.

_Per_. Sweete, sowre, kinde, cruell, hold thy murthering knife,
And he