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"Fletcher's Works (1 of 10) - the Custom of the Country"

_ I will not be long absent.
_Doct._ That I wish too;
For till you have more strength, I would not have you
To be too bold.
_Dua._ Fear not, I will be carefull. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Leopold, Zabulon, Bravo.
_Zab._ I have brought him Sir, a fellow that will do it
Though Hell stood in his way, ever provided
You pay him for't.
_Leop._ He has a strange aspect,
And looks much like the figure of a hang-man
In a table of the Passion.
_Zab._ He transcends
All precedents, believe it, a flesh'd ruffian,
That hath so often taken the Strappado,
That 'tis to him but as a lofty trick
Is to a tumbler: he hath perused too
All Dungeons in _Portu[g]al_, thrice seven years
Rowed in the Galleys for three several murthers,
Though I presume that he has done a hundred,
And scap't unpunisht.
_Leop._ He is much in debt to you,
You set him off so well. What will you take Sir
To beat a fellow for me, that thus wrong'd me?
_Bra._ To beat him say you?
_Leop._ Yes, beat him to lameness,
To cut his lips or nose off; any thing,
That may disfigure him.
_Bra._ Let me consider?
Five hundred pistolets for such a service
I think were no dear penniworth.


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