Drag'd from the sucking bosome of his mother,
Then I respect to quaffe a boule of wine,
Unto his health, that dearely loveth me.

2 _Ruff_. Where golde rewardeth, were apparent death,
Before mine eyes, bolde, hartie, visible,
Ide wrastle with him for a deadly fall,
Or I would loose my guerdon promised.
Ide hang my brother for to wear his coate,
That all that saw me might have cause to say,
There is a hart more firme then Adamant,
To practise execrable butcheries.

_Fall_. I know that well, for were I not assur'd
Of your performance in this enterprice,
I would not ope the closet of my brest,
To let you know my close intention.
There is a little boy, an urchin lad,
That stands betweene me and the glorious rayes,
Of my soule-wishing sunne of happinesse.
There is a thicket ten miles from this place,
Whose secret ambush and unused wayes
Doth seeme to ioyne with our conspiracie:
There murther him, and when the deed is done,
Cast his dead body in some durtie ditch,
And leave him for the fowles to feed upon.
Do this, here is two hundreth markes in golde,
To harten on your resolution:
Two hundreth more, after the deed is done,
Ile pay you more for satisfaction.