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.

Leid.  Propound and take[174] me with ye.

Bar.  Dye uncompelld, and mock their preparations, Their envyes and their Justice.

Leid.  Dye?

Bar.  Dye willingly,
Dye sodainely and bravely:  So will I: 
Then let ’em sift our Actions from our ashes. 
I looke to-morrow to be drawne before ’em;
And doe you thinck, I, that have satt a Judge
And drawne the thred of life to what length I pleasd,
Will now appeare a Prisoner in the same place? 
Tarry for such an ebb?  No, Leidenberch: 
The narrowest dore of death I would work through first
Ere I turne Slave to stick their gawdy triumphes.

Leid.  Dye, did you say? dye wilfully?

Bar.  Dye any way,
Dye in a dreame:  he that first gave us honours
Allowes us also safe waies to preserve ’em,
To scape the hands of infamy and tirrany. 
We may be our owne Justice:  he that loses
His Creadit (deere as life) through doubt or faintness
Is guilty of a doble death, his name dies;
He is onely pious that preserves his heire
His honour when he’s dead.

Leid.  ’Tis no great paine.