The things we do!

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.


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