1 _Ruff_. Swones her's rewards would make one kill himselfe,
To leave his progenie so rich a prize!
Were twentie lives engadged for this coine,
Ide end them all, to have the money mine.

2 _Ruff_. Who would not hazard life nay soule and all,
For such a franke and bounteous pay-maister?
Sblood! what labor is't to kill a boy?
It is but thus, and then the taske is done.
It grieves me most, that when this taske is past,
I have no more to occupie my selfe.
Two hundred markes to give a paltrie stab!
I am impatient till I see the brat.

_Fall_. That must be done with cunning secrecie,
I have devisde to send the boye abroade,
With this excuse, to have him fostered,
In better manners than this place affoords.
My wife, though loath indeed to part with him,
Yet for his good, she will forgoe her joy,
With hope in time to have more firme delights,
Which she expects from young _Pertillos_ life.

2 _Ruff_. Call you him _Pertillo_, faith leave out the _T_.

_Fall_. Why so?

_Ruff_. Because _Perillo_ will remaine,
For he shall surely perish if I live.