1 housekeeper.  I have but one, ile send her down to you.

3 neigh.  Is this the maide? [Come out maide.

Salt.  No, sir, this is not she. [Go to another, &c.  How many maides do dwell within this house?

2 house.  Her’s nere a woman here, except my wife. [Go to Merryes.

3 neigh.  Whose house is this?

Lo.  An honest civill mans, cald Maister Merry, Who I dare be sworne, would never do so great a murther; But you may aske heere to for fashion sake.

[Rachell sits in the shop.

3.  How now, faire maide, dwels any here but you?  Thou hast too true a face for such a deed.

Rach.  No, gentle sir; my brother keepes no more.

3 neigh.  This is not she?

Salt.  No truly, gentleman.

[Ex.  R.

3.  This will not serve; we cannot finde her out.  Bring in those bodyes, it growes towards night; God bring these damn’d murtherers at length to light!

[Exeunt omnes.

[SCENE V.]

Enter Merry and Rachell.

Mer.  Why go the neighbours round about the streete To every house? what hast thou heard the cause?

Rach.  They go about with that same Salters man, Of whom I bought the bag but yesterday, To see if he can know the maide againe Which bought it:  this I think the very cause.

Mer.  How were my senses overcome with feare,
That I could not foresee this jeopardy! 
For had I brought the bag away with me,
They had not had this meanes to finde it out. 
Hide thee above least that the Salters man
Take notice of thee that thou art the maide,
And by that knowledge we be all undone.

Rach.  That feare is past, I sawe, I spake with him,
Yet he denies that I did buy the bag;
Besides the neighbours have no doubt of you,
Saying you are an honest harmelesse man,
And made enquirie heere for fashion sake.

Mer.  My former life deserves their good conceits,
Which is not blemisht with this treacherie. 
My heart is merier then it was before,
For now I hope the greatest feare is past. 
The hammer is denyed, the bag unknowne;
Now there is left no meanes to bring it out,
Unless our selves proove Traitors to our selves.

Rach.  When saw you Hary Williams?

Me.  Why, to day; I met him comming home from Powles Crosse, Where he had beene to heare a Sermon.

Rach.  Why brought you not the man along with you To come to dinner, that we might perswade Him to continue in his secrecie?

Mer.  I did intreate him, but he would not come, But vow’d to be as secret as my selfe.

Rach.  What, did he sweare?

Mer.  What neede you aske me that? 
You know we never heard him sweare an othe. 
But since he hath conceal’d the thing thus long,
I hope in God he will conceale it still.