Bes.

  Why your Majesty looks as well in my opinion, as ever you did
  since you were born.

Arb.

  But thou appear’st to me after thy grant,
  The ugliest, loathed detestable thing
  That I ever met with.  Thou hast eyes
  Like the flames of Sulphur, which me thinks do dart
  Infection on me, and thou hast a mouth
  Enough to take me in where there do stand
  Four rows of Iron Teeth.

Bes.

I feel no such thing, but ’tis no matter how I look, Pie do my business as well as they that look better, and when this is dispatch’d, if you have a mind to your Mother, tell me, and you shall see I’le set it hard.

Arb.

  My Mother!  Heaven forgive me to hear this,
  I am inspir’d with horrour:  now I hate thee
  Worse than my sin, which if I could come by
  Should suffer death Eternal ne’re to rise
  In any breast again.  Know I will die
  Languishing mad, as I resolve, I shall,
  E’re I will deal by such an instrument: 
  Thou art too sinful to imploy in this;
  Out of the World, away.

Bes.

  What do you mean, Sir?

Arb.

  Hung round with Curses, take thy fearful flight
  Into the Desarts, where ’mongst all the Monsters
  If thou find’st one so beastly as thy self,
  Thou shalt be held as innocent.

Bes.

  Good Sir.

Arb.

  If there were no such instruments as thou,
  We Kings could never act such wicked deeds: 
  Seek out a man that mocks Divinity,
  That breaks each precept both of God and man,
  And natures too, and does it without lust,
  Meerly because it is a law, and good,
  And live with him:  for him thou canst not spoil. 
  Away I say, I will not do this sin.

[Exit Bessus.

  I’le press it here, till it do break my breast,
  It heaves to get out, but thou art a sin,
  And spight of torture I will keep thee in.

ACTUS QUARTUS.

Enter Gobrias, Panthea, and Spaconia.

Gob.

  Have you written Madam?

Pan.

  Yes, good Gobrias.

Gob.

  And with a kindness, and such winning words
  As may provoke him, at one instant feel
  His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness?

Pan.

  I have sent words enough, if words may win him
  From his displeasure; and such words I hope,
  As shall gain much upon his goodness, Gobrias. 
  Yet fearing they are many, and a womans,
  A poor belief may follow, I have woven
  As many truths within ’em to speak for me,
  That if he be but gracious, and receive ’em—­

Gob.