_Sor._ You do not know Sir With what remorse I ask, nor with what weariness I groan and bow under this load of honour, And how my soul sighs for the beastly services, I have done his pleasures, these be witness with me, And from your piety believe me Father, I would as willingly unclothe my self Of title, that becomes me not I know; Good men, and great names best agree together; Cast off the glorious favours, and the trappings Of sound and honour, wealth and promises, His wanton pleasures have flung on my weakness, And chuse to serve my countries cause and vertues, Poorly and honestly, and redeem my ruines, As I would hope remission of my mischiefs. _Rug._ Old and experienc'd men, my Lord _Sorano_, Are not so quickly caught with gilt hypocrisie, You pull your claws in now and fawn upon us, As lyons do to intice poor foolish beasts; And beasts we should be too if we believ'd ye, Go exercise your Art. _Sor._ For Heaven sake scorn me not, Nor adde more Hell to my afflicted soul Than I feel here; as you are honourable, As you are charitable look gently on me, I will no more to Court, be no more Devil, I know I must be hated even of him That was my Love now, and the more he loves me For his foul ends, when they shall once appear to him, Muster before his conscience and accuse him, The fouler and the more falls his displeasure, Princes are fading things, so are their favours. _Mar._ He weeps again, his heart is toucht sure with remorse. _Sor._ See this, and give me fair attention good my Lord, And worthy Father see, within this viol The remedy and cure of all my honour, And of the sad Prince lyes. _Rug._ What new trick's this? _Sor._ 'Tis true, I have done Offices abundantly Ill and prodigious to the Prince _Alphonso_, And whilst I was a knave I sought his death too. _Rug._ You are too late convicted to be good yet. _Sor._ But Father, when I felt this part afflict me, This inward part, and call'd me to an audit Of my misdeeds and mischiefs-- _Mar._ Well, go on Sir. _Sor._ O then, then, then what was my glory then Father? The favour of the King, what did that ease me? What was it to be bow'd to by all creatures? Worship[t], and courted, what did this avail me? I was a wretch, a poor lost wretch. _Mar._ Still better. _Sor._ Till in the midst of all my grief I found Repentance, and a learned man to give the means to it, A Jew, an honest and a rare Physician, Of him I had this Jewel; 'tis a Jewel, And at the price of all my wealth I bought it: If the King knew it I must lose my head, And willingly, most willingly I would suffer, A child may take it, 'tis so sweet in working. _Mar._ To whom would you apply it? _Sor._ To the sick Prince, It will in half a day dissolve his melancholy.