_Arb_.
Be sorrie then,
True sorrow is alone, grieve by thy selfe.
_Mar_.
I pray you let mee see your sword put up
Before I goe; Ile leave you then.
_Arb_.
Why so?
What follie is this in thee? is it not
As apt to mischiefe as it was before?
Can I not reach it thinkest thou? these are toyes
For children to be pleas'd with, and not men;
Now I am safe you thinke: I would the booke
Of Fate were here, my sword is not so sure,
But I should get it out, and mangle that
That all the destinies should quite forget
Their fix't decrees, and hast to make us new
Farre other Fortunes mine could not be worse,
Wilt thou now leave me?
_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.
_Gob_.
Now is the time, heare me but speake.
_Arb_.
No, yet I will be farre more mercifull
Then thou wert to me; thou didst steale into me,
And never gavest me warning: so much time
As I give thee now, had prevented thee
For ever. Notwithstanding all thy sinnes,
If thou hast hope, that there is yet a prayer
To save thee, turne, and speake it to your selfe.
_Gob_.
Sir, you shall know your sinnes before you doe um
If you kill me.
_Arb_.