The most here present, know this to be true:
Would _Truth_ were false, so this were but a tale!
The other further off, but yet too neere,
To those that felt and did the crueltie:
Neere _Padua_ this wicked deed was done,
By a false Uncle, on his brothers sonne,
Left to his carefull education
By dying Parents, with as strict a charge
As ever yet death-breathing brother gave.
Looke for no mirth, unlesse you take delight,
In mangled bodies, and in gaping wounds,
Bloodily made by mercy-wanting hands.
Truth will not faine, but yet doth grieve to showe,
This deed of ruthe and miserable woe.

[_Exit_.



[ACT THE FIRST.]

[SCENE I.]


_Enter Merry_.

I live in meane and discontented state,
But wherefore should I think of discontent?
I am belov'd, I have a pretty house,
A loving sister, and a carefull man,