_Lel._ I was in such a fright before thou cam'st, Yond' old mad fellow (it will make thee laugh, Though it feared me) has talkt so wildly here-- Sirrah, he rush'd in at my doors, and swore He was my Father, and I think believ'd it; But that he had a Sword, and threatned me-- I' faith he was good sport, good, thrust him out, That thou and I may kiss together; wilt thou? _Fath._ Are you her Champion? and with these fair words Got in to rescue her from me? [_Offers to run at him._ _Ang._ Hold, Sir, I swear I do not harbour such a thought, I speak it not, for that you have two Swords, But for 'tis truth. _Lel._ Two Swords, my _Angelo_? Think this, that thou hast two young brawny arms And ne'r a Sword, and he has two good Swords, And ne'r an arm to use 'em; rush upon him, I could have beaten him with this weak Body, If I had had the spirit of a man. _Ang._ Stand from me, and leave talking, or, by Heaven, I'll trample thy last damning word out of thee. _Fath._ Why do you hinder me then? stand away, And I will rid her quickly. _Lel._ Would I were Clear of this business, yet I cannot pray. _Ang._ Oh, be advis'd, why you were better kill her If she were good, convey her from this place, Where none but you, and such as you appoint, May visit her; where, let her hear of nought But death and damning, which she hath deserv'd, Till she be truly, justly sorrowful, And then lay mercy to her, who does know But she may mend? _Fath._ But whither should I bear her? _Ang._ To my house, 'Tis large, and private, I will lend it you. _Fath._ I thank you, Sir, and happily it fits With some design I have: but how shall we Convey her? _Lel._ Will they carry me away? _Fath._ For she will scratch and kick, and scream so loud That people will be drawn to rescue her. _Ang._ Why? none can hear her here but her own maid, Who is as fast as she. _Fath._ But in the street? _Ang._ Why, we will take 'em both into the Kitchen, There bind 'em, and then gag 'em, and then throw 'em Into a Coach I'll bring to the back-door, And hurry 'em away. _Fath._ It shall be so, I owe you much for this, and I may pay you, There is your Sword, lay hold upon her quickly, This way with me, thou disobedient Child, Why does thy stubborn heart beat at thy breast? Let it be still, for I will have it search'd Till I have found a Well of living tears Within it, that shall spring out of thine eyes, And flow all o'r thy Body foul'd with sin, Till it have wash'd it quite without a stain. [_They drag her._ _Lel._ Help, help, ah! ah! Murther, I shall be murthered, I shall be murthered. _Fath._ This helps thee not. _Lel._ Basely murthered, basely. _Fath._ I warrant you. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._