_Fred._ And I love thee still, pity thy wrongs, and dote upon thy person. _Evan._ To set my woman on me 'twas too base, Sir. _Fred._ Abominable vile. _Evan._ But I shall fit him. _Fred._ All reason and all Law allows it to ye, And ye are a fool, a tame fool, if you spare him. _Evan._ You may speak now, and happily prevail too, And I beseech your Grace be angry with me. _Fred._ I am at heart. She staggers in her faith, And will fall off I hope, I'll ply her still. Thou abused innocence, I suffer with thee, If I should give him life, he would still betray thee; That fool that fears to dye for such a Beauty, Would for the same fear sell thee unto misery. I do not say he would have been Bawd himself too. _Evan._ Follow'd thus far? nay then I smell the malice, It tastes too hot of practis'd wickedness, There can be no such man, I am sure no Gentleman; Shall my anger make me whore, and not my pleasure? My sudden inconsiderate rage abuse me? Come home again, my frighted faith, my vertue, Home to my heart again; he be a Bawd too? _Fred._ I will not say he offered fair _Evanthe._ _Evan._ Nor do not dare, 'twill be an impudence, And not an honour for a Prince to lye; Fye, Sir, a person of your rank to trifle, I know you do lye. _Fred._ How? _Evan._ Lye shamefully, and I could wish myself a man but one day, To tell you openly you lye too basely. _Fred._ Take heed, wild fool. _Evan._ Take thou heed, thou tame Devil, Thou all _Pandora_'s Box in a Kings figure, Thou hast almost whor'd my weak belief already, And like an Engineer blown up mine honour; But I shall countermine, and catch your mischief, This little Fort you seek, I shall man nobly, And strongly too, with chaste obedience To my dear Lord, with vertuous thoughts that scorn ye. Victorious _Thomyris_ ne'r won more honour In cutting off the Royal head of _Cyrus_, Than I shall do in conquering thee; farewel, And if thou canst be wise, learn to be good too. 'Twill give thee nobler lights than both thine eyes do; My poor Lord and my self are bound to suffer, And when I see him faint under your sentence, I'll tell ye more, it may be then I'll yield too. _Fred._ Fool unexampled, shall my anger follow thee? [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Rugio, _and Fryar_ Marco, _amazed._ _Rugio._ Curst on our sights, our fond credulities, A thousand curses on the Slave that cheated us, The damn'd Slave. _Mar._ We have e'n sham'd our service, Brought our best care and loyalties to nothing, 'Tis the most fearful poyson, the most potent, Heaven give him patience; Oh it works most strongly, And tears him, Lord.