[Exeunt omnes:  manet Merrie.

Mer.  Do what you can, cast all your wits about,
Rake kennells, gutters, seeke in everie place,
Yet I will overgoe your cunning heads,
If Williams and my sister hold their tongues. 
My neighbours holdes not me in least suspect,
Weighing of my former conversation. 
Were Beeches boy well conveid awaie,
Ide hope to overblow this stormie day.

[Exit.

[SCENE V.]

Enter Falleria, Sostrata, Allenso, Pertillo,
and two Murtherers booted.

Fall.  Now little cooze, you are content to goe,
From me your Unckle and your loving Aunt,
Your faithfull cozen, and your dearest friendes: 
And all to come to be a skilfull man,
In learned artes and happy sciences?

Per, I am content, because it pleaseth you. 
My father bid I should obey your will,
And yeelde my selfe to your discretion: 
Besides my cozen gave me yesternight,
A prettie nag to ride to Padua. 
Of all my friends Allenso loves me best.

Fall.  I thinke thou art inspir’d with prophesie:  [To the people.  He loves thee better then I would he did.—­ Why, wherefore think you so, my prettie Nephew?

Per.  Because he taught me how to say my prayers,
To ride a horse, to start the fearfull hare. 
He gave this dagger to me yester night,
This little Ring, and many pretie things;
For which, kind cooze, I rest your true debtor,
And one day I will make you recompence.

Fall.  I, with thy lands and goods thou leav’st behinde.

Allen.  Pray, father, let me go along with him.—­ Now, by the Saviour of my sinfull soule, [To the people.  I do not like those fellowes countenance.

Fall.  Sonne be content, weele go a seavenight hence,
And see him in his universitie weedes. 
These will conduct him safely to the place;
Be well assured they’l have a care of him—­
That you shall never see Pertillo more. [To the people.

Allen.  Father, I pray you to withdraw your selfe, Ide have a word or two in secresie.

[They speake together.

Sost.  Come living image of thy dead mother,
And take my loving farewell, ere we part. 
I love thee dearly for thy fathers sake,
But for thy mothers dote with jealousie. 
Oh I do feare, before I see thy face,
Or thou or I shall taste of bitternesse. 
Kisse me, sweete boy, and, kissing, folde thine Aunte
Within the circle of thy little armes. 
I neede not feare, death cannot offer wrong;
The majestie of thy presaging face,
Would vanquish him, though nere so terrible. 
The angry Lionesse that is bereav’d
Of her imperious crew of forrest kings,
Would leave her furie, and defend thee safe
From Wolves, from Panthers, Leopards, and Shee Beares,