[SCENE IV.]

Enter three neighbors knocking at Loneys doore: Loney comes.

1. Hoe, Maister Loney! here you any newes What is become of your Tennant Beech?

Lon. No truely, sir, not any newes at all.

2. What, hath the boy recovered any speach, To give us light of these suggestions That do arise upon this accident?

Lon. There is no hope he should recover speech; The wives do say he's ready now to leave This greevous world, full-fraught with treacherie.

3. Methinkes if Beech himselfe be innocent, That then the murtherer should not dwell farre off; The hammer that is sticking in his head, Was borrowed of a Cutler dwelling by, But he remembers not who borrowed it: He is committed that did owe[33] the hammer, But yet he standes uppon his innocence; And Beeches absence causeth great suspition.

Lo. If Beech be faulty, as I do not thinke, I never was so much deceiv'd before. Oh had you knowne his conversation, You would not have him in suspition.

3. Divels seeme Saints, and in these[34] hatefull times, Deceite can beare apparraunt signes of trueth, And vice beare shew of vertues excellence.

Enter the two Watermen.

1. Pray is this Maister Beeches house?

Lo. My friend this same was maister Beeches shop: We cannot tell whether he live or no.

1. Know you his head and if I shew it you? Or can you tell me what hose or shooes he ware, At that same time when he forsooke the shoppe?

3. What, have you head, and hose, and shooes to show, And want the body that should use the same?

1. Behold this head, these legges, these hose and shooes, And see if they were Beeches, yea or no.

Lo. They are the same; alas, what is become, Of the remainder of this wretched man!

1 Wat. Nay that I know not; onelie these we found, As we were comming up a narrow lane, Neere Baynardes Castle, where we two did dwell; And heering that a man was missing hence, We thought it good to bring these to this place,

3. Thankes, my good friendes; ther's some thing for your paines.

2 Wat. We are indifferent, whether you give us anything or nothing; and if you had not, why so; but since you have, why so.

1 Wat. Leave your repining: Sir, we thanke you hartely.

3. Farewell good fellowes.—Neighbour, now be bold: [Exeunt Watermen. They dwell not farre that did this bloodie deed, As God no doubt will at the last reveale, Though they conceale it nere so cunninglie. All houses, gutters, sincks and crevices Have carefully been sought for, for the blood; Yet theres no instaunce found in any place.

Enter a Porter and a Gentleman.

But who is that that brings a heavy loade, Behinde him on a painefull porters backe?

Gen. Praie, Gentlemen, which call you Beeches shoppe?

2 Neig. This is the place; what wold you with the man?

Gen. Nothing with him; I heare the man is dead, And if he be not, I have lost my paines.

Lo. Hees dead indeede, but yet we cannot finde What is become of halfe his hopelesse bodie. His head and legges are found, but for the rest, No man can tell what is become of it.

Gen. Then I doe thinke I can resolve your doubt And bring you certain tydings of the rest, And if you know his doublet and his shirt. As for the bodie it is so abus'd That no man can take notice whoes it was. Set downe this burden of anothers shame. What, do you know the doublet and the shirt?

[Ex. Porter.

Lo. This is the doublet, these the seuered limmes, Which late were ioyned to that mangled trunke: Lay them together, see if they can make Among them all a sound and solid man.

3 neigh. They all agree, but yet they cannot make That sound and whole which a remorsles hand Hath severed with a knife of crueltie. But say, good sir, where did you finde this out?

Gent. Walking betime by Paris Garden ditch, Having my Water Spaniell by my side, When we approach'd unto that haplesse place Where this same trunke lay drowned in a ditch, My Spaniell gan to sent, to bark, to plunge Into the water, and came foorth againe, And fawnd one me, as if a man should say, Helpe out a man that heere lyes murthered. At first I tooke delight to see the dog, Thinking in vaine some game did there lye hid Amongst the Nettles growing neere the banke; But when no game, nor anything appear'd, That might produce the Spaniell to this sport, I gan to rate and beate the harmlesse Cur, Thinking to make him leave to follow me; But words, nor blowes, could moove the dog away, But still he plung'd, he div'd, he barkt, he ran Still to my side, as if it were for helpe. I seeing this, did make the ditch be dragd, Where then was found this body as you see, With great amazement to the lookers on.

3. Beholde the mightie miracles of God, That sencelesse things should propagate their sinne That are more bestiall farre then beastlinesse Of any creature most insensible!

2. Neigh. Cease we to wonder at Gods wondrous works, And let us labour for to bring to light Those masked fiends that thus dishonor him. This sack is new, and, loe! beholde his marke Remaines upon it, which did sell the bag. Amongst the Salters we shall finde it out When, and to whom, this bloody bag was sold.

3. Tis very likely, let no paines be spar'd, To bring it out, if it be possible; Twere pitty such a murther should remaine Unpunished mongst Turkes and Infidels.

1. neigh. Sirs, I do know the man that solde this bag, And if you please, Ile fetch him presently?

Gent. With all our hearts. How say you gentlemen? Perchance the murther thus may come to light.

3. I pray you do it, we will tarry heere: [Exit 1. neigh. And let the eyes of every passenger Be satisfied, which may example be How they commit such dreadfull wickednesse.

Ent. wom. And please your maisterships, the boy is dead.

3. neigh. Tis very strange that having many wounds So terrible, so ghastlie; which is more, Having the hammer sticking in his head; That he should live and stirre from Friday night, To Sunday morning, and even then depart, When that his Maisters mangled course were found. Bring him foorth too; perchance the murtherers May have their hearts touched with due remorse, Viewing their deeds of damned wickednesse. [Bring forth the boye and laye him by Beech.

1 neigh. Here is the Salters man that solde the bag.

Gent. My friend, how long since did you sell that bag? And unto whom, if you remember it?

Sal. I sould the bag, good sir, but yesterday, Unto a maide; I do not know her name.

3 neigh. Nor where she dwels.

Sal. No certeinly.

2 neigh. But what apparell had she on her back?

Sal. I do not well remember what she wore, But if I saw her I should know her sure.

3 neigh. Go round about to every neighbours house, And will them shew their maides immediately: God grant we may finde out the murtherers. [Go to one house, and knock at doore, asking. Bring forth such maides as are within your house!

1 housekeeper. I have but one, ile send her down to you.

3 neigh. Is this the maide? [Come out maide.

Salt. No, sir, this is not she. [Go to another, &c. How many maides do dwell within this house?

2 house. Her's nere a woman here, except my wife. [Go to Merryes.

3 neigh. Whose house is this?

Lo. An honest civill mans, cald Maister Merry, Who I dare be sworne, would never do so great a murther; But you may aske heere to for fashion sake.

[Rachell sits in the shop.

3. How now, faire maide, dwels any here but you? Thou hast too true a face for such a deed.

Rach. No, gentle sir; my brother keepes no more.

3 neigh. This is not she?

Salt. No truly, gentleman.

[Ex. R.

3. This will not serve; we cannot finde her out. Bring in those bodyes, it growes towards night; God bring these damn'd murtherers at length to light!

[Exeunt omnes.