Denis.  Anythinge For a quiett lyfe,[115] but this same wryneckt deathe, That which still spoyles all drinkinge, ’tis a thinge I never coold indure; as you are noble Keepe still my wind pype open.

Lord Av.  Out of many Museings[116] for boath our safetyes I have fownd One that’s above the rest most probable.

Denis.  What, what, I praye, Syr?

Lord Av.  Interupt mee not: 
Staye I should nowe begett a stratagem
To save myne owne lyfe, myne estate and goodds,
Ey, and secure thee too.

Denis.  ’Twere excellent, Syr.

Lord Av.  I have project for all these, as willingly To lengthen boathe our lyves, and limitt us Tyme to repent his deathe.

Denis.  But howe, I praye, Syr?

Lord Av.  Ey, there’s the difficulty; but nowe I hav’t. 
Betwixt us and the cloyster’s but one wall,
And that of no greate height; coold wee in private
Conveighe this fryar into the monastery,
It might be then imadgind som of them
Might bee his deathe’s-man; which might seeme more probable
Bycause, as I had late intelligens,
There hathe bin stryfe amongst them.

Denis.  Better still.

Lord Av.  Now howe can wee incurr the least suspect?  For what should hee doo from the fryary, Or what seeke heere att this unseasoned hower?

Denis.  I apprehende thee; and, to further this,
In the backe yard there is a ladder, Syr: 
Mount him upon my back, and I’l conveighe him
Where som, not wee, shall answer for his death.

Lord Av.  As desperate wounds still must have desperate cure, So all rash mischeiffes shuld have suddeine shiftes.  Wee’I putt it to ye venter.

Denis.  Mount him then; I’l once trye if the ventur of a ladder Can keepe mee from the halter.

[Exeunt.[117]

Explicit Actus 3.

Actus 4.

SCENA PRIMA.

    Enter the Clowne.

Clowne.  I have left a full coort behynde mee, Mildewe pleidinge of the one syde, my mayster on the other, and the lawyers fendinge and prooveinge on boathe; there’s such yeallinge and ballinge, I know not whether it made any deafe to heare it, but I am suer I was almost sicke to see’t.  Whyle they are brablinge in the cittye I am sent backe to the villadge to cheire up the too younge mermaydes; for synce theire throates have bin rincht with salt water they singe with no lesse sweatenes.  But staye; I spy a fisherman drawinge his nett upp to the shore; I’l slacke som of my speede to see how hee hathe spedd since the last tempest.

    Enter the Fisherman.

Fisher.  I see hee that nought venters nothinge gaynes;
Hee that will bee awake when others sleepe
May sometymes purchase what may give him rest,
When other loyterers shalbe forct to ryse
Or perish through meare want; as, for example,
Although the tempest frighted hence the fishe,
I have drag’d some thinge without finne or skale
May make mee a good markett.  Lett mee better
Surveigh my pryze; ’tis of good weight I feele;
Now should it bee some treasure I weare mayde.