_Mer_. I would a pennie loafe cost me a pound, Provided _Beeches_ boy had eate his last. _Rach_. Perchance the boy doth not remember you. _Mer_. It may be so,--but ile remember him. [_To people_. And send him quicklie with a bloodie scrowle, To greete his maister in another world. _Rach_. Ile go to _Beeches_ on a faind excuse, To see if he will ask me for his maister. _Mer_. No, get you up, you shall not stir abroade, And when I call, come quicklie to the dore. _Rach_. Brother, or that, or any thing beside, To please your mind, or ease your miserie. [_Exit_. _Mer_. I am knee-deepe, ile wade up to the wast, To end my hart of feare, and to atteine The hoped end of my intention. But I maie see, if I have eyes to see, And if my understanding be not blind, How manie dangers do alreadie waight, Upon my steppes of bold securitie. _Williams_ is fled, perchaunce to utter all; Thats but perchance, naie rather flatlie no. But should he tell, I can but die a death; Should he conceale, the boy would utter it; The boy must die, there is no remedie. [_The boy sitting at his maisters dore_. _Win_. I wonder that my maister staies so long; He had not wont to be abroade so late. Yonder comes one; I thinke that same is he. _Mer_. I see the boye sits at his maisters doore. Or now, or never; _Merry_, stir thy selfe, And rid thy hart from feare and jealousie.-- _Thomas Winchester_, go quicklie to your shoppe: What, sit you still? your maister is at hand. [_When the boy goeth into the shoppe Merrie striketh six blowes on his head & with the seaventh leaves the hammer sticking in his head; the boy groaning must be heard by a maide who must crye to her Maister. [Merrie flieth_. _Mai_. Oh God I thinke theres theeves in _Beeches_ shop. _Enter one in his shirt and a maide, and comming to Beeches shop findes the boy murthered_. _Nei_. What cruell hand hath done so foule a deede, Thus to bemangle a distressed youth Without all pittie or a due remorse! See how the hammer sticketh in his head, Wherewith this honest youth is done to death! Speak, honest _Thomas_, if any speach remaine: What cruell hand hath done this villanie? He cannot speake, his senses are bereft. Hoe, neighbour _Loney_! pray come downe with speede, Your tennant _Beeches_ man is murthered. _Loney sleeping_. What, would you have some mustard? _Nei_. Your tennant _Beeches_ man, is murthered. _Lo_. Whose smothered, I thinke you lack your wit What, neighbor? what make[13] you here so late? [_Out at a window_. _Nei_. I was affrighted by a sodaine crie, And comming downe saw maister _Beeches_ man, Thus with a hammer sticking in his head. [_Comes to win_. _Loney_. Ah wo is me for _Thomas Winchester_, The truest soule that ever maister had! Wheres maister _Beech_? _Neigh_. Nay, no body can tell: Did you see any running from the dore, When you lookt out and heard the youngman crie?