_Lord Av_. Trifle not; The sinne will proove more serious. To a conscience Startled with blood and murder, what a terror Is in the deede, being doone, which bredd before Boathe a delight and longing! This sadd spectacle Howe itt affrights mee! _Denis_. Letts remove itt then. _Lord Av_. The sinne it self, the churches malediction, As doone to one of a sequestred lyfe And holly order, the lawes penalty, Being duble forfeture of lyfe and state, Reproach, shame, infamy, all these incur'd Through my inconsiderate rashnes! _Denis_. My lyfe, too. Howe to prevent the danger of all these? _Lord Av_. Ey, that will aske much breyne, much project. _Denis_. Sir, Shall we poppe him in som privy? _Lord Av_. Duble injurye, To praye upon the soule and after deathe Doo to the body such discoortesy; It neather savours of a generous spyritt Nor that which wee call manly. _Denis_. Anythinge For a quiett lyfe,[115] but this same wryneckt deathe, That which still spoyles all drinkinge, 'tis a thinge I never coold indure; as you are noble Keepe still my wind pype open. _Lord Av_. Out of many Museings[116] for boath our safetyes I have fownd One that's above the rest most probable. _Denis_. What, what, I praye, Syr? _Lord Av_. Interupt mee not: Staye I should nowe begett a stratagem To save myne owne lyfe, myne estate and goodds, Ey, and secure thee too. _Denis_. 'Twere excellent, Syr. _Lord Av_. I have project for all these, as willingly To lengthen boathe our lyves, and limitt us Tyme to repent his deathe. _Denis_. But howe, I praye, Syr? _Lord Av_. Ey, there's the difficulty; but nowe I hav't. Betwixt us and the cloyster's but one wall, And that of no greate height; coold wee in private Conveighe this fryar into the monastery, It might be then imadgind som of them Might bee his deathe's-man; which might seeme more probable Bycause, as I had late intelligens, There hathe bin stryfe amongst them. _Denis_. Better still. _Lord Av_. Now howe can wee incurr the least suspect? For what should hee doo from the fryary, Or what seeke heere att this unseasoned hower? _Denis_. I apprehende thee; and, to further this, In the backe yard there is a ladder, Syr: Mount him upon my back, and I'l conveighe him Where som, not wee, shall answer for his death. _Lord Av_. As desperate wounds still must have desperate cure, So all rash mischeiffes shuld have suddeine shiftes. Wee'I putt it to ye venter. _Denis_. Mount him then; I'l once trye if the ventur of a ladder Can keepe mee from the halter. [_Exeunt_.[117] Explicit Actus 3. _Actus 4_. SCENA PRIMA. _Enter the Clowne_.