The wicked hearts of earthly citizens!
Then roaring, bellowing, thundring, I would say,
Mother, lament, _Pertillos_ made away!

_Sost_. What, is he dead? God give me leave to die,
And him repentance for his treacherie!
[_Falleth down and dyeth_.

_Fall_. Never the like impietie was done:
A mother slaine, with terror of the sonne!
Helpe to repaire the damadge thou hast made,
And seeke to call back life with dilligence.

_Allen_. Call back a happy creature to more woe!
That were a sinne: good Father, let her go.
0 happy I, if my tormenting smart,
Could rend like her's, my griefe-afflicted heart!
Would your hard hart extend unto your wife,
To make her live an everdying life?
What, is she dead? oh, then thrice happy she,
Whose eyes are bard from our callamitie!

_Fall_. I, all too soone, thou viper, paracide!
But for thy tongue thy mother had not dyde:
That belching voice, that harsh night-raven sound,
Untimely sent thy mother to the ground:
Upbraid my fault, I did deceive my brother;
Cut out thy tongue, that slue thy carefull mother.

_Allen_. God love my soule, as I in heart rejoyce