Y. ART. No friend of mine. I was my own
To murther my chaste wife, that lov’d me so!
In life she lov’d me dearer than her life:
What husband here but would wish such a wife?
I hear the officers with hue and cry;
She saved my life but now, and now I die.
And welcome, death! I will not stir from hence;
Death I deserv’d, I’ll die for this offence.
Enter BRABO, with OFFICERS, MISTRESS SPLAY, and HUGH.
BRA. Here is the murderer; and, Reason’s
You have the warrant: sirs, lay hands on him;
Attach the slave, and lead him bound to death.
HUGH. No, by my faith, Master Brabo, you have the better heart, at least you should have; I am sure you have more iron and steel than I have; do you lay hands on him; I promise you I dare not.
BRA. Constables, forward; forward, officers;
I will not thrust my finger in the fire.
Lay hands on him, I say: why step you back?
I mean to be the hindmost, lest that any
Should run away, and leave the rest in peril.
Stand forward: are you not asham’d to fear?
Y. ART. Nay, never strive; behold, I yield myself.
I must commend your resolution
That, being so many and so weapon’d,
Dare not adventure on a man unarm’d.
Now, lead me to what prison you think best.
Yet use me well; I am a gentleman.
HUGH. Truly, Master Arthur, we will use you as well as heart can think; the justices sit to-day, and my master is chief: you shall command me.
BRA. What! hath he yielded? if he had withstood
This curtle-axe of mine had cleft his head;
Resist he durst not, when he once spied me.
Come, lead him hence: how lik’st thou this, sweet witch?
This fellow’s death will make our mistress rich.
MRS SPLAY. I say, I care not who’s dead
So by their lives or deaths we two may thrive.
HUGH. Come, bear him away.
A Room, in Justice Season’s House.
Enter JUSTICE REASON, OLD
and OLD MASTER LUSAM.
JUS. Old Master Arthur and Master Lusam, so
It is that I have heard both your complaints,
But understood neither, for, you know,
Legere et non intelligere negligere est.
O. ART. I come for favour, as a father should,
Pitying the fall and ruin of his son.
O. LUS. I come for justice, as a father should,
That hath by violent murder lost his daughter.
JUS. You come for favour, and you come for justice:
Justice with favour is not partial,
And, using that, I hope to please you both.
O. ART. Good Master Justice, think upon my son.
O. LUS. Good Master Justice, think upon my daughter.
JUS. Why, so I do; I think upon them both;
But can do neither of you good;
For he that lives must die, and she that’s dead
Cannot be revived.