or nycenes dare not, tast what's sweete,
Alyke made for all pallats.

_Lord Av_. Howe the slave
Insults in his damnation! cease the wretch,
I can indure no lonnger.

_Fr. Jhon_. Such as ban
Proffred delights may, if they please, refuse;
What's borne with mee I will make bold to use.

_Lord Av_. And I what thou weart borne too, that's a halter.
Pull without feare or mercy, strangle him
With all his sinnes about him; t'were not else
A revendge worthe my fury.

[_Fry: strangled_.

_Dennis_. I dare nowe
Lodge him a whole night by my syster's syde,
Hee's nowe past strompetting.

_Lord Av_. Tis night with him,
A longe and lastinge night.

_Denis_. Hee lyes as quiet.
You did well, Fryare, to putt on your cleane linnen;
Twill serve you as a shrowde for a new grave.
Whither shall wee lyft his body?

_Lord Av_. I am on the suddeine
Growne full of thoughts; the horror of the fact
Breedes strange seditions in mee.

_Denis_. Hee perhapps
But counterfetts dead sleep. I'l hollowe to him
To see if I can wake him.

_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_. 'Tw