_Rach_. To prison, sir? alas, what have I done?

_Con_. You know that best, but every one doe know
You and your brother murthered Maister _Beech_,
And his poore boy that dwelt at _Lambert hill_.

_Rach_. I murthered? my brother knowes that I,
Did not consent to either of their deathes.

_Con_. That must be tride; where doth your brother lye?

_Rach_. Here in his bed; me thinks he's not a sleepe.

_Con_. Now, Maister _Merry_, are you in a sweate?
[_Throwes his night cap away_.

_Merry sigh_. No verily, I am not in a sweate.

_Con_. Some sodaine feare affrights you; whats the cause?

_Mer_. Nothing but that you wak'd me unawares.

_Con_. In the Queenes name I doe commaund you rise,
And presently to goe along with us.
[_Riseth up_.

_Mer_. With all my hart; what, doe you know the cause?

_Con_. We partly doe; when saw you maister _Beech_?