_Pen._ Ye are welcome; and pray see me; see me well, Ye shall not see me long.
_Petill._ I hope so, _Penyus_; The gods defend, Sir.
_Pen._ See me, and understand me: This is he Left to fill up your triumph; he that basely Whistled his honour off to th' wind; that coldly Shrunk in his politick head, when _Rome_ like reapers Sweat blood, and spirit, for a glorious harvest, And bound it up, and brought it off: that fool, That having gold and copper offer'd him, Refus'd the wealth, and took the wast: that soldier That being courted by loud fame and fortune, Labour in one hand, that propounds us gods, And in the other, glory that creates us, Yet durst doubt, and be damned.
_Petill._ Yet the blackest May be washt white again.
_Petill._ Your leave, Sir, And I beseech ye note me; for I love ye, And bring [along] all comfort: Are we gods, Alli'd to no infirmities? are our natures More than mens natures? when we slip a little Out of the way of virtue, are we lost? Is there no medicine called Sweet mercy?
_Pen._ None, _Petillius_; There is no mercy in mankind can reach me, Nor is it fit it should; I have sinn'd beyond it.
_Petill._ Forgiveness meets with all faults.
_Pen._ 'Tis all faults, All sins I can commit, to be forgiven: 'Tis loss of whole man in me, my discretion To be so stupid, to arrive at pardon.
_Pen._ He's a brave Gentleman, A valiant, and a loving; and I dare say He would, as far as honor durst direct him, Make even with my fault, but 'tis not honest, Nor in his power: examples that may nourish Neglect and disobedience in whole bodies. And totter the estates and faiths of armies, Must not be plaid withall; nor out of pitty Make a General forget his duty: Nor dare I hope more from him than is worthy.
_Petill._ So would sullen children, Women that want their wills, slaves, disobedient, That fear the law, die. Fie, great Captain; you A man to rule men, to have thousand lives Under your Regiment, and let your passion Betray your reason? I bring you all forgiveness, The noblest kind commends, your place, your honour.
_Pen._ Prethee no more; 'tis foolish: didst not thou? By ---- thou didst, I over-heard thee, there, There where thou standst now, deliver me for rascal, Poor, dead, cold coward, miserable, wretched, If I out-liv'd this ruine?