The Tragedy of
Couldst not thou have poyson'd him?
Jul.
'Tis weakenesse,
Too much to thinke what should have bin done,
I go, I know not whether.
Card.
Wherefore com'st thou hither?
Bos.
That I might finde a great man, (like your selfe,)
Not out of his wits (as the Lord Ferdinand)
To remember my service.
Card.
I'll have thee hew'd in peeces.
Bos.
Make not your selfe such a promise of that life
Which is not yours, to dispose of.
Car.
Who plac'd thee here.
Bos.
Her lust, as she intended.
Card.
Very well, now you know me for your fellow murderer.
Bos.
And wherefore should you lay faire marble colours,
Upon your rotten purposes to me?
Unlesse you imitate some that do plot great Treasons,
And when they have done, go hide themselves i'th' graves,
Of those were Actors in't?
Card.
No more,
There is a fortune attends thee.
Bos.
Shall I go sue to fortune any longer?
'Tis the fooles Pilgrimage.
Card.
I have honors in store for thee.
Bos.
There are a many wayes that conduct to seeming
Honor, and some of them very durty ones.
Card.
Throw to the divell
Thy mellancholly, the fire burnes well,
What neede we keepe a stirring of it, and make
A greater smoother? thou wilt kill Antonio?
Bos.
Yes.
Card.
Take up that body.
Bos.
I thinke I shall
Shortly grow the common Beare, for Church-yards?
Card.
I will allow thee some dozen of attendants,
To aide thee in the murther.
Bos.
Oh, by no meanes,
Phisitians that apply horse-leiches to any rancke swelling,
Use to cut of their tailes, that the blood may run through them
The
