And see, he comes. My Lord--

_Gan_. O _Dydier_,
Resolve me where & howe thou hast disposd
The most false bodye of my falsest frende.

_Did_. The ravenous earthe, that eatts what it hathe fedd,
Hathe swallowd it.

_Gan_. But where? what peice of earthe
Couldst thou fynde badd enough to hyde hys bones.
If in some flowrye meade th'ast hym interrd
The poyson of hys synns will choake the sprynge,
And, if thou hast not layd hym deepe enoughe,
Corrupt the ayre & cause a generall plauge.

_Did_. Bothe those are, Sir, prevented by the dytche,
Whose deepe banks seeme to be halfe bottomlesse,
Where he is layd a rottinge.

_Gan_. Without all helpe! counsayle in thys were daungerous.

_Did_. Sir, I was fryer & clarke & all my selfe;
None mournd but nyghte, nor funerall tapers bore
But erringe starres.

_Gan_. And they did erre indeed
To shewe their lights at hys curst funerall.
Did not a dog bewray thee?