The one, of the Murther of Maister Beech A Chaundler in
Thames-streete, and his boye, done by Thomas Merry.

The other of a Young childe murthered in a Wood by two Ruffins, with the consent of his Vnckle.

By ROB.  YARINGTON.

LONDON.

Printed for Mathew Lawe, and are to be solde at his Shop in Paules Church-yarde neere vnto S. Austines Gate, at the signe of the Foxe_. 1601.

Two Tragedies in One.

    Enter Homicide, solus.

I have in vaine past through each stately streete,
And blinde-fold turning of this happie towne,
For wealth, for peace, and goodlie government,
Yet can I not finde out a minde, a heart
For blood and causelesse death to harbour in;
They all are bent with vertuous gainefull trade,
To get their needmentes for this mortall life,
And will not soile their well-addicted harts
With rape, extortion, murther, or the death
Of friend or foe, to gaine an Empery. 
I cannot glut my blood-delighted eye
With mangled bodies which do gaspe and grone,
Readie to passe to faire Elizium,
Nor bath my greedie handes in reeking blood
Of fathers by their children murthered: 
When all men else do weepe, lament and waile,
The sad exploites of fearefull tragedies,
It glads me so, that it delightes my heart,
To ad new tormentes to their bleeding smartes.

    Enter Avarice.

But here comes Avarice, as if he sought,
Some busie worke for his pernicious thought: 
Whether so fast, all-griping Avarice?

Ava.  Why, what carst thou?  I seeke for one I misse.

Ho.  I may supplie the man you wish to have.

Ava.  Thou seemes to be a bold audatious knave;
I doe not like intruding companie,
That seeke to undermine my secrecie.

Ho.  Mistrust me not; I am thy faithfull friend.

Ava.  Many say so, that prove false in the end.

Ho.  But turne about and thou wilt know my face.

Ava.  It may be so, and know thy want of grace. 
What! Homicide? thou art the man I seeke: 
I reconcile me thus upon thy cheeke. [Kisse, imbrace. 
Hadst thou nam’d blood and damn’d iniquitie,
I had forborne to bight so bitterlie.

Hom.  Knowst thou a hart wide open to receive,
A plot of horred desolation? 
Tell me of this, thou art my cheefest good,
And I will quaffe thy health in bowles of blood.

Ava.  I know two men, that seem two innocents,
Whose lookes, surveied with iuditiall eyes,
Would seeme to beare the markes of honestie;
But snakes finde harbour mongst the fairest flowers,
Then never credit outward semblaunces.

    Enter[4] Trueth.

I know their harts relentlesse, mercilesse,
And will performe through hope of benefit: 
More dreadfull things then can be thought upon.