_Mat._ My honour ever seek thee for thy justice, Oh 'twas a deed of high and brave adventure, A justice even for heaven to envy at, Farewel my sorrows, and my tears take truce, My wishes are come round: Oh bloody Brother, Till this hour never beauteous; till thy life, Like a full sacrifi[c]e for all thy mischiefs, Flow'd from thee in these rivers, never righteous: Oh how my eyes are quarri'd with their joys now! My longing heart even leaping out for lightness! But dye thy black sins with thee, I forgive thee. _Aub._ Who did this deed? _Ham._ I, and I'le answer it. [_Dies._ _Edi._ He faints, oh that same cursed knife has kill'd him. _Aub._ How? _Edi._ He snatch'd it from my hand, for whom I bore it, And as they grappl'd. _Aub._ Justice is ever equal, Had it not been on him, th'adst dy'd too honest. Did you know of his death? _Edi._ Yes, and rejoyce in't. _Aub._ I'me sorry for your youth then; though the strictness Of Law shall not fall on you, that of life Must presently, go to a Cloyster, carry her, And there for ever lead your life in penitence. _Edi._ Best Father to my soul, I give you thanks, Sir, And now my fair revenges have their ends, My vows shall be my kin, my prayers my friends. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Latorch, _and_ Juglers. _Lat._ Stay there, I'le step in and prepare the Duke. _Nor._ We shall have brave rewards? _Fis._ That is without question. _Lat._ By this time where's my huffing friend Lord _Aubrey_? Where's that good Gentleman? oh, I could laugh now, And burst my self with meer imagination; A wise man, and a valiant man, a just man; To suffer himself be juggl'd out of the world, By a number of poor Gipseys? farewel Swash-buckler, For I know thy mouth is cold enough by this time; A hundred of ye I can shave as neatly, And ne'r draw bloud in shew: now shall my honour, My power and vertue walk alone: my pleasure Observ'd by all, all knees bend to my worship, All sutes to me as Saint of all their fortunes, Prefer'd and crowded to, what full place of credit, And what place now? your Lordship? no, 'tis common, But that I'le think to morrow on; now for my business. _Aub._ Who's there? _Lat._ Dead, my Master dead? _Aubrey_ alive too? _Gua._ _Latorch_, Sir. _Aub._ Seize his body. _Lat._ My Master dead? _Aub._ And you within this halfhour, Prepare your self good Devil, you must to it, Millions of gold shall not redeem thy mischief, Behold the Justice of thy practice, villain; The mass of murthers thou hast drawn upon us: Behold thy doctrine; you look now for reward, Sir, To be advanc'd, I'm sure, for all your labours? And you shall have it, make his gallows higher By ten foot at the least, and then advance him.