Rach.  I doe forgive you from my verie soule,
And thinke not that I shed these store of teares,
For that I price my life, or feare to dye,
Though I confesse the manner of my death
Is much more grievous then my death it selfe;
But I lament for that it hath beene said
I was the author of this crueltie
And did produce you to this wicked deede,
Whereof God knowes that I am innocent.

Mer.  Indeede thou art; thy conscience is at peace,
                                [Goe up the lather. 
And feeles no terror for such wickednesse;
Mine hath beene vexed but is now at rest,
For that I am assur’d my hainous sinne
Shall never rise in judgement gainst my soule,
But that the blood of Jesus Christ hath power
To make my purple sinne as white as Snowe. 
One thing, good people, witnesse here with me,
That I doe dye in perfect charitie,
And do forgive, as I would be forgiven
First of my God and then of all the world. 
Cease publishing that I have beene a man
Train’d up in murther or in crueltie,
For fore this time, this time is all too soone,
I never slue or did consent to kill;
So helpe me God as this I speake is true! 
I could say something of my innocence,
In fornication and adulterie,
But I confesse the iustest man alive,
That beares about the frailtie of a man,
Cannot excuse himselfe from daily sinne
In thought, in word, and deed.  Such was my life. 
I never hated Beech in all my life,
Onely desire of money which he had,
And the inciting of that foe of man,
That greedie gulfe, that great Leviathan,
Did halle [sic] me on to these callamities;
For which, even now my very soule dooth bleede. 
God strengthen me with patience to endure
This chastisement, which I confesse too small
A punishment for this my hainous sinne. 
Oh be couragious, sister! fight it well! 
We shall be crown’d with immortallitie.

Rach.  I will not faint, but combat manfully; Christ is of power to helpe and strengthen me.

Officer.  I pray make hast; the hower is almost past.

Mer.  I am prepar’d; oh God, receive my soule;
Forgive my sinnes, for they are numberlesse. 
Receive me, God, for now I come to thee!
               [Turne of the Lather.  Rachel shrinketh.

Offi.  Nay shrinke not, woman; have a cheerefull hart.

Rach.  I, so I do, and yet this sinfull flesh
Will be rebellious gainst my willing spirit. 
Come, let me clime these steps that lead to heaven,
Although they seeme the staires of infamie: 
Let me be merror to ensuing times,
And teach all sisters how they do conceale,
The wicked deeds of brethren, or of friends. 
I not repent me of my love to him,
But that thereby I have provoked God
To heavie wrath and indignation;