_Mer_. Why slaine a knave that would have murtherd me;
Better to kill, then to be kild my selfe.

_Wil_. With what? wherewith? how have you slaine the man?

_Mer_. Why, with this hammer I knockt out his braines.

_Wil_. Oh it was beastly so to butcher him.
If any quarrell were twixt him and you,
You should have bad him meete you in the field,
Not like a coward under your owne roofe
To knock him downe as he had bin an oxe,
Or silly sheepe prepard for slaughter house.
The Lord is just, and will revenge his blood,
On you and yours for this extremitie.
I will not stay an hower within your house,
It is the wickedst deed that ere was done.

_Mer_. Oh, sir, content your selfe, all shall be well;
Whats done already cannot be undone.

_Rach_. Oh would to God, the deed were now to do,
And I were privie to your ill intent,
You should not do it then for all the world.
But prethie, _Harry_, do not leave the house,
For then suspition will arise thereof,
And if the thing be knowne we are undone.

_Wil_. Forsake the house! I will not stay all night,