Per.  Why should Falleria seeke to have my life?

2 mur.  The lands and goods, thy father left his sonne, Do hale thee on to thy destruction.

Per.  Oh needy treasure, harme-begetting good!  That safety[23] should procure the losse of blood!

2 mur.  Those lands and goods, thy father got with paine, Are swords wherewith his little sonne is slaine.

1 mu.  Then let our swords let out his guiltlesse life.

Per.  Sweete, sowre, kinde, cruell, hold thy murthering knife, And here [sic] me speake, before you murther me.

2 mu.  Feare not, sweet child, he shall not murther thee.

1 mu.  No, but my sword shall let his puddings forth.

Per.  First here me speake, thou map of Butcherie: 
Tis but my goods and lands my Unckle seekes;
Having that safely, he desires no more. 
I do protest by my dead parents soules,
By the deare love of false Fallerios sonne,
Whose heart, my heart assures me, will be griev’d
To heare his fathers inhumanitie,
I will forsake my countrie, goods, and lands,
I, and my selfe will even change my selfe,
In name, in life, in habit, and in all,
And live in some farre-moved continent,
So you will spare my weake and tender youth,
Which cannot entertaine the stroake of death
In budding yeares and verie spring of life.

1 Mur.  Leave of these bootlesse protestations,
And use no ruth-enticing argumentes,
For if you do, ile lop you lim by lim,
And torture you for childish eloquence.

2 Mur.  Thou shalt not make his little finger ake.

1 Mur.  Yes, every part, and this shall proove it true.
                    [Runnes Perillo in with his sworde.

Per.  Oh I am slaine, the Lord forgive thy fact!  And give thee grace to dye with penitence. [Dyeth.

2 Mur.  A treacherous villaine, full of cowardise!  Ile make thee know that thou hast done amisse.

1 m.  Teach me that knowledge when you will or dare.

    [They fight and kill one another; the relenter
    having some more life, and the other dyeth.

1 mur.  Swoones, I am peppered, I had need have salt,
Or else to morrow I shall yeeld a stincke,
Worse then a heape of dirty excrements. 
Now by this Hilt, this golde was earn’d too deare: 
Ah, how now death, wilt thou be conquerour? 
Then vengeance light on them that made me so,
And ther’s another farewell ere I goe.
               [Stab the other murtherer againe.

2 mur.  Enough, enough, I had my death before.

[A hunt within.

Enter the Duke of Padua, Turqualo, Vesuvio, Alberto, &c.