_Fall_. Hearken to me, and I will tell thee how; Thou knowst his fathers goods, his houses, lands, Have much advaunc'd our reputation, In having but their usage for a time. If the boy live, then like to sencelesse beasts, Like longd-eard Asses and riche-laden Mules, We must resign these treasures to a boye, And we like Asses feede on simple haye: Make him away, they shall continue ours By vertue of his fathers Testament,-- The iewels, castles, medowes, houses, lands, Which thy small cozen should defeate thee of, Be still thine owne, and thou advance thy selfe, Above the height of all thine Auncestours. _Allen_. But if I mount by murther and deceite, Iustice will thrust aspiring thoughts belowe, And make me caper for to breake my neck, After some wofull lamentation Of my obedience to unlawfulnesse. I tell you plaine, I would not have him dye, Might I enjoy the _Soldans_ Emperie. _Fall_. What, wilt thou barre thy selfe of happinesse? Stop the large streame of pleasures which would flowe, And still attend on thee like Servingmen? Preferre the life of him that loves thee not Before thine owne and my felicitie? _Allen_. Ide rather choose to feede on carefulnesse, To ditche, to delve, and labour for my bread, Nay rather choose to begge from doore to doore, Then condiscend to offer violence To young _Pertillo_ in his innocence. I know you speake, to sound what mightie share _Pertillo_ hath in my affection. _Fall_. In faith I do not; therefore, prethie, say, Wilt thou consent to have him made away? _Allen_. Why, then in faithe I am ashamde to think, I had my being from so foule a lumpe Of adulation and unthankfulnesse. Ah, had their dying praiers no availe Within your hart? no, damnd extorcion Hath left no roome for grace to harbor in! Audacious sinne, how canst thou make him say Consent to make my brothers sonne away? _Fall_. Nay if you ginne to brawle, withdrawe your selfe, But utter not the motion[10] that I made, As you love me, or do regarde your life. _Allen_. And as you love my safetie and your soule, Let grace and feare of God, such thoughts controule. _Fall_. Still pratling! let your grace and feare alone, And leave me quickly to my private thoughts, Or with my sword ile open wide a gate, For wrath and bloudie death to enter in. _Allen_. Better you gave me death and buriall, Then such foule deeds should overthrow us all.