The things we do!

I did, God lives, and will revenge it home,
If you defer my condigne punishment.
_Duke_. Assure your selves, you both shall suffer death:
But for _Fallerio_, he shall hang in chaines
After he's dead, for he was principall.
_Fall_. Unsaverie Woormewood, Hemlock, bitter gall,
Brings no such bad, unrelisht, sower taste,
Unto the tongue as this death-boding voice,
Brings to the eares of poore _Fallerio_,
Not for myselfe but for _Allensoes_ sake,
Whome I have murthered by my trechery.
Ah my dread Lord, if any little sparke
Of melting pittie doth remaine alive,
And not extinguisht by my impious deedes,
Oh kindle it unto a happie flame,
To light _Allenso_ from this miserie
Which through dim death he's like to fall into.
_Allen_. That were to overthrow my soule and all.
Should you reverse this sentence of my death,
My selfe would play the death-man on my selfe
And overtake your swift and winged soule,
Ere churlish _Caron_ had transported you
Unto the fields of sad _Proserpina_.
_Duke_. Cease, cease, _Fallerio_, in thy bootlesse prayers.


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