Y. ART.  No friend of mine.  I was my own soul’s foe,
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 man,
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 us,
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 or alive,
So by their lives or deaths we two may thrive.

HUGH.  Come, bear him away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Room, in Justice Season’s House.

Enter JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR,
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.