Big. Out dunghill: dar'st thou braue a Nobleman? Hub. Not for my life: But yet I dare defend My innocent life against an Emperor Sal. Thou art a Murtherer Hub. Do not proue me so: Yet I am none. Whose tongue so ere speakes false, Not truely speakes: who speakes not truly, Lies Pem. Cut him to peeces Bast. Keepe the peace, I say Sal. Stand by, or I shall gaul you Faulconbridge Bast. Thou wer't better gaul the diuell Salsbury. If thou but frowne on me, or stirre thy foote, Or teach thy hastie spleene to do me shame, Ile strike thee dead. Put vp thy sword betime, Or Ile so maule you, and your tosting-Iron, That you shall thinke the diuell is come from hell Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a Villaine, and a Murtherer? Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none Big. Who kill'd this Prince? Hub. 'Tis not an houre since I left him well: I honour'd him, I lou'd him, and will weepe My date of life out, for his sweete liues losse Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villanie is not without such rheume, And he, long traded in it, makes it seeme Like Riuers of remorse and innocencie. Away with me, all you whose soules abhorre Th' vncleanly sauours of a Slaughter-house, For I am stifled with this smell of sinne Big. Away, toward Burie, to the Dolphin there P. There tel the king, he may inquire vs out. Ex. Lords. Ba. Here's a good world: knew you of this faire work? Beyond the infinite and boundlesse reach of mercie, (If thou didst this deed of death) art y damn'd Hubert Hub. Do but heare me sir Bast. Ha? Ile tell thee what. Thou'rt damn'd as blacke, nay nothing is so blacke, Thou art more deepe damn'd then Prince Lucifer: There is not yet so vgly a fiend of hell As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this childe Hub. Vpon my soule Bast. If thou didst but consent To this most cruell Act: do but dispaire, And if thou want'st a Cord, the smallest thred That euer Spider twisted from her wombe Will serue to strangle thee: A rush will be a beame To hang thee on. Or wouldst thou drowne thy selfe, Put but a little water in a spoone, And it shall be as all the Ocean, Enough to stifle such a villaine vp. I do suspect thee very greeuously Hub. If I in act, consent, or sinne of thought, Be guiltie of the stealing that sweete breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, Let hell want paines enough to torture me: I left him well