Fetch me the chopping knife, and in the meane
Ile move the fagots that do cover him.
[_Remove the Fagots_.

_Rach_. Oh can you finde in hart to cut and carve,
His stone-colde flesh, and rob the greedy grave,
Of his dissevered blood-besprinkled lims?

_Mer_. I, mary can I:--fetch the chopping knife.

_Rach_. This deed is worse, then when you took his life. [_Exit_.

_Mer_. But worse, or better, now it must be so,
Better do thus than feele a greater woe.

_Enter Rach_.

Here is the knife, I cannot stay to see
This barbarous deed of inhumanitie. [_Exit Rachel_.

[_Merry begins to cut the body, and bindes the armes
behinde his back with Beeches garters; leaves out the
body, covers the head and legs againe_.

_Enter Truth_.

Yee glorious beames of that bright-shining lampe
That lights the starre-bespangled firmament,
And dimnes the glimmering shadowes of the night,
Why doost thou lend assistance to this wretch,