1. Ruffian.
Lord Cardinal.—

Beauf.
Ay.—Tread soft.—Heard you no Noise?

2. Ruffian.
The Bell.

Beauf.
No other Sound?

1. Ruffian.
Not any; my good Lord.

Beauf.
No Noise, before you enter'd?

1. Ruffian.
None at all.

Beauf.
It may be so.—And yet, it hollow'd loud!—
Imaginary Terrours!—Hence!—Is Age
So quick of Hearing?—Come, my Friends:
Are you prepared?

2. Ruffian.
So bent on Vengeance;
That We think, Stifling is too mild a Death.

Beauf.
No:—No Bloodshed!—

1. Ruffian.
Does he sleep sound?

Beauf.
No labouring Man more sound.—
But,—you must use main Force.

1. Ruffian.
We know his Strength.

Beauf.
There lies the Door.

2. Ruffian.
Come:—Set the Lanthorn.

Beauf.
But;
Be sure, you leave no Signs of Violence:—

2. Ruffian.
None.

Beauf.
And, lay the Bed;—and place the Pillows, after.—
Turn the Lock gently;—very gently!—So.—
  Can Murder be a crying Offence; and Heaven
Permit such Fellows, daily, to traffick in it?—
Or, is it human Laws, alone, conspire
To make it Criminal?—But, hold!—'Tis doing.—
He struggles!—Now;—all your Might:—Dispatch!—No Respite!—
Force:—Wretches; more Force!—Weigh on his Breast.—
Smother that Groan!—His Mouth;—his Nostrils: Quick!—
Dastardly Miscreants!—Still I hear him breathe.—
Finish, at once!—Oh, 'tis a tedious While!—
So.—Now, he lies quiet.—Yes.—At last, 'tis over!—
Examine;—carefully:—Feel every Pulse.—

Leave not One doubtfull Token.—Quite extinguish
Life!—Is it done?

1. Ruffian.
To all Intents.

Beauf.
Quite dead?

2. Ruffian.
We answer for it.

Beauf.
Yet;—I see no Blood
Upon your Hands!—

2. Ruffian.
You did injoin us.—

Beauf.
True!—
I had forgot.—And, have you smooth'd the Bed?

1. Ruffian.
We have:—And, drawn the Curtains, round:—

2. Ruffian.
And, laid him,
With his Face upward.

Beauf.
Right!—Away!—The private Door is open.—

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