The things we do!

_Wil_. What was the matter that you cride so lowde?
_Rach_. I must not tell you, but we are undone.
_Wil_. You must not tell me, but we are undone!
Ile know the cause wherefore we are undone. [_Exit up_.
_Rach_. Oh would the thing were but to doe againe!
The thought thereof doth rent my hart in twaine. [_She goes up_.
_Williams to Merry above_.
_Wil_. Oh maister, maister, what have you done?
_Mer_. Why slaine a knave that would have murtherd me;
Better to kill, then to be kild my selfe.
_Wil_. With what? wherewith? how have you slaine the man?
_Mer_. Why, with this hammer I knockt out his braines.
_Wil_. Oh it was beastly so to butcher him.
If any quarrell were twixt him and you,
You should have bad him meete you in the field,
Not like a coward under your owne roofe
To knock him downe as he had bin an oxe,
Or silly sheepe prepard for slaughter house.
The Lord is just, and will revenge his blood,
On you and yours for this extremitie.
I will not stay an hower within your house,
It is the wickedst deed that ere was done.


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