Be still thine owne, and thou advance thy selfe,
Above the height of all thine Auncestours.

_Allen_. But if I mount by murther and deceite,
Iustice will thrust aspiring thoughts belowe,
And make me caper for to breake my neck,
After some wofull lamentation
Of my obedience to unlawfulnesse.
I tell you plaine, I would not have him dye,
Might I enjoy the _Soldans_ Emperie.

_Fall_. What, wilt thou barre thy selfe of happinesse?
Stop the large streame of pleasures which would flowe,
And still attend on thee like Servingmen?
Preferre the life of him that loves thee not
Before thine owne and my felicitie?

_Allen_. Ide rather choose to feede on carefulnesse,
To ditche, to delve, and labour for my bread,
Nay rather choose to begge from doore to doore,
Then condiscend to offer violence
To young _Pertillo_ in his innocence.
I know you speake, to sound what mightie share
_Pertillo_ hath in my affection.

_Fall_. In faith I do not; therefore, prethie, say,
Wilt thou consent to have him made away?

_Allen_. Why, then in faithe I am ashamde to think,
I had my being from so foule a lumpe