_Leid_. I must confes my errour; The beastly coldnes of the drowsy Burgers Put me past all my aymes.
_Bar_. O, they are sweet Jewells! He that would put his confidence in Turnops[173] And pickled Spratts--Come, yet resume your Courage, Pluck up that leaden hart and looke upon mee; _Modesbargen's_ fledd, and what we lockt in him Too far of from their subtle keys to open, Yf we stand constant now to one another And in our soules be true.
_Leid_. That comes too late, Sir, Too late to be redeemd: as I am unfortunate In all that's gone before, in this--
_Leid_. O, In this, this last and greatest--
_Leid_. Most miserable. I have confessd. Now let your eies shoot through me And if there be a killing anger sinck me.
_Leid_. 'Tis done: this traitor tongue has don it, This coward tongue.
_Bar_. How I could cursee thee, foole, despise thee, spurne thee, But thou art a thing not worthie of mine anger. A frend! a dog: a whore had byn more secreat, A common whore a closer Cabinet. Confest! upon what safety, thou trembling aspyn, Upon what hope? Is there ought left to buoy us But our owne confidence? What frends now follow us, That have the powre to strike of theis misfortunes, But our owne constant harts? Where were my eies, My understanding, when I tooke unto me A fellow of thy falce hart for a frend? Thy melting mind! foold with a few faire words Suffer those secreats that concerne thy life, In the Revealer not to be forgiven too, To be pluckt from thy childes hart with a promise, A nod, a smile! thyself and all thy fortunes Through thy base feare made subject to example! Nor will the shott stay there, but with full violence Run through the rancke of frends, disperse and totter The best and fairest hopes thy fame was built on.
_Leid_. What have I done, how am I foold and cozend! What shall redeeme me from this Ignoraunce!
_Bar_. Not any thing thou aymst at, thou art lost: A most unpittied way thou falst.
_Leid_. Not one hope To bring me of? nothing reservd to cleere me From this cold Ignoraunce?
_Bar_. But one way left, But that thy base feare dares not let thee look on; And that way will I take, though it seeme steepe And every step stuck with affrights and horrours, Yet on the end hangs smyling peace and honour, And I will on.