_Tob._ The cold, the cold I cry, and I cry truly, Not one sleeve, nor a cape of a cloak to warm me. _Wild._ What miserable fools were we! _Tob._ We had e'en best, gentlemen, Every man chuse his rope again, and fasten it, And take a short turn to a better fortune, To be bawds to our miseries, and put our own lights out! _Wild._ Prethee Sexton lets have a fire at thy house. A good fire, we'll pay thee some way for't, I am stone cold. _Sex._ Alas I pity you, come quickly Gentlemen. _Wild._ Sure I ha been in a dream, I had no Mistriss, Nor gold, nor cloaths, but am a ringing rascal. _Tob._ Fellows in affliction, let's take hands all, Now are we fit for tumblers. _Enter_ Lurcher _and others_, bringing in Algripe. _Lur._ So, so, presently his sleep will leave him. And wonder seize upon him, Bid 'em within be ready. _Ju._ What sound's this? What horrid dinne? what dismal place is this? I never saw before, and now behold it; But by the half light of a Lamp, that burns here: My spirits shake, tremble through my body; Help, help, _Enter two Furies, with black Tapers._ Mercy protect me, my soul quakes, What dreadful apparitions! how I shudder! _1. 2. Fu. Algripe._ _Ju._ What are you? _1._ We are hellhounds, hellhounds, that have commission From the Prince of darkness, To fetch thy black soul to him. _Ju._ Am I not alive still? _1._ Thou art, but we have brought thee instruments Will quickly rid thy miserable life, Stabb. _2._ Poyson. _1._ Hang thy self, this choice is offer'd. _2._ Thou canst not hope for heaven; thy base soul is Lost to all hope of mercy. [_1._] Quickly, quickly, The torments cool. [_2._] And all [the Fiends] expect thee. Come with us to that pit of endless horror, Or we will force thee. _Ju._ Oh, oh, oh. _1._ Groans are too late, sooner the ravisher, Whose soul is hurl'd into eternal frost, Stung with the force of twenty thousand winters, To punish the distempers of his blood, Shall hope to get from thence, than thou avoid The certainty of meeting hell where he is. Shall murderers be there for ever dying, Their souls shot through with Adders, torn on Engines, Dying as many deaths for killing one, Could any imagination number them, As there be moments in eternity: And shall that Justice spare thee, that hast slain, Murdered by thy extortion so many? _Ju._ Oh, oh. _2._ Do execution quickly, or we'll carry thee alive to hell. _Ju._ Gently, gentle devils, do not force me To kill my self, nor do not you do't for me; Oh let me live, I'll make amends for all. _1._ Tell us of thy repentance? perjur'd villain, Pinch off his flesh, he must be whipt, salted and whipt. _Ju._ Oh misery of miseries!