The things we do!

_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.


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