Mar.

God put into your bosome temperate thoughts,
He leave you though I feare.

Exit.

Arb.

Goe, thou art honest,
Why should the hastie errors of my youth
Be so unpardonable, to draw a sinne
Helpelesse upon me?

Enter Gobrius.

Gob.

  There is the King, now it is ripe.

Arb.

  Draw neere thou guiltie man,
  That are the author of the loathedst crime
  Five ages have brought forth, and heare me speake
  Curses incurable, and all the evils
  Mans bodie or his spirit can receive
  Be with thee.

Gob.

Why Sir doe you curse me thus?

Arb.

  Why doe I curse thee, if there be a man
  Subtill in curses, that exceedes the rest,
  His worst wish on thee.  Thou hast broke my hart.

Gob.

  How Sir?  Have I preserv’d you from a childe,
  From all the arrowes, malice or ambition
  Could shoot at you, and have I this for pay?

Arb.

  Tis true thou didst preserve me, and in that
  Wert crueller then hardned murderers
  Of infants and their mothers; thou didst save me
  Onely till thou hadst studdied out a way
  How to destroy me cunningly thy selfe: 
  This was a curious way of torturing.

Gob.

  What doe you meane?

Arb.

  Thou knowst the evils thou hast done to me,
  Dost thou remember all those witching letters
  Thou sentst unto me to Armenia,
  Fild with the praise of my beloved Sister,
  Where thou extolst her beautie; what had I
  To doe with that, what could her beautie be
  To me, and thou didst write how well shee lov’d me,
  Doest thou remember this:  so that I doated
  Something before I saw her.

Gob.

  This is true.

Arb.

  Is it, and I when I was returnd thou knowst
  Thou didst pursue it, till thou woundst mee into
  Such a strange, and unbeleev’d affection,
  As good men cannot thinke on.

Gob.

  This I grant, I thinke I was the cause.

Arb.

  Wert thou?  Nay more, I thinke thou meantst it.

Gob.

  Sir I hate a lie. 
  As I love God and honestie, I did: 
  It was my meaning.

Arb.

  Be thine owne sad Judge,
  A further condemnation will not need: 
  Prepare thy selfe to die.

Gob.

  Why Sir to die?

Arb.

  Why wouldst thou live, was ever yet offender
  So impudent, that had a thought of mercy
  After confession of a crime like this? 
  Get out I cannot, where thou hurlst me in,
  But I can take revenge, that’s all the sweetnesse
  Left for me.