_Fr. R_. Of all Infirmityes belonginge to us I hould those woorst that will not lett a man Rest in his bedd a-nights. And I of that, By reason of a late could I have gott, Am at this instant guilty; which this rushinge From a warme bedd in these wild frosty nights Rather augments then helpes; but all necessityes Must bee obeyde. But soft, there's one before mee: By this small glimpse of moone light I perceave him To bee Fryar _Jhon_, my antient adversary.[140] Why _Jhon_? why _Jhon_? what! not speake! why, then I see 'tis doon of malyce, and of purpose Only to shame mee, since hee knowes the rest Take notyce what a loose man I am growne. Nay prithee, sweete fryar _Jhon_, I am in hast, Horrible hast; doo but release mee nowe, I am thy frend for ever. What! not heare! Feigne to bee deaf of purpose, and of slight! Then heare is that shall rouse you. Are you falne? [_Eather[141] strykes him with a staffe or casts a stone_. What, and still mute and sylent? nay, not styrr? I'l rowse you with a vengance! not one limbe To doo his woonted offyce, foot nor hand? Not a pulse beatinge, no breathe? what no motion? Oh mee of all men lyvinge most accurst! I have doon a fearefull murder, which our former Inveterate hate will be a thousand testats That I for that insidiated his lyfe. The deedes apparant and the offens past pardon. There's nowe no waye but fly: but fly! which way? The cloyster gates are all bar'd and fast lockt; These suddeine mischieffes shuld have suddeine shifts. About it breyne and in good tyme. I hate![142] Suspitious rumors have bene lately spread And more then whispered of th'incontinent love Fryar _Jhon_ boare to the knight's Lady. Had I meanes Howe to conveighe his body o'er the wall To any or the least part of the howse, It might bee thought the knight in jelosy Had doone this murder in a just revendge. Let me surveighe th'ascent: happy occation! To see howe redy still the devill is To helpe his servants! heare's a ladder left: Upp, Fryare, my purpose is to admitt you nowe Of a newe cloyster. I will sett his body Upright in the knights porche and leave my patron To answer for the falt, that hath more strength Then I to tugge with Benches. [_Exit. Carry him up_. _Enter the knight, half unredy, his Lady after him_. _D'Avern_. Ho, _Denis_! _Lady_. Give mee reason, I intreate, Of these unquiet sleepes. _D'Av_. You dogg mee, Lady, Lyke an Ill genius. _Lady_. You weare woont to call mee Your better angel. _D'Av_. So I shall doo still, Would you beetake you to your quiet sleepes And leave mee to my wakinges. _Lady_. There beelonges Unto one bedd so sweete a sympathy, I canott rest without you. _D'Av_. To your chamber! There may growe els a woorse antypathy Beetwixt your love and myne: I tell you, Lady, Myne is no woman's busines. No reply: Your least insured presence att this tyme Will but begett what you would loathe to beare, Quarrell and harshe unkindnes.