_Allen_. Ah gratious Lord, I know this wretched child,
And these two men that here lye murthered.

_Vesu_. Do you, _Allenso_?

_Allen_. I, my gracious Lord:
It was _Pertillo_ my dead Unckles sonne.
Now have my feares brought forth this fearefull childe
Of endlesse care, and everlasting griefe!

_Duke_. Lay hands upon _Allenso_, Gentlemen.
Your presence doth confirme you had a share
In the performance of this crueltie.

_Allen_. I do confesse I have so great a share
In this mishap, that I will give him thankes,
That will let foorth my sorrow-wounded soule
From out this goale of lamentation.

_Duke_. Tis now too late to wish for hadiwist.[28]
Had you withheld your hand from this attempt,
Sorrow had never so imprisoned you.

_Allen_. Oh my good Lord, do not mistake my case,
And yet my griefe is sure infallible.
The Lord of heaven can witnesse with my soule,
That I am guiltelesse of your wrong suspect,
But yet not griefelesse that the deed is done.