_Went._ Sir, keep your jests for those who relish them! (Does he enjoy their confidence?) 'T is kind To tell me what the Council does. _Pym._ You grudge That I should know it had resolved on war Before you came? no need: you shall have all The credit, trust me! _Went._ Have the Council dared-- They have not dared ... that is--I know you not. Farewell, sir: times are changed. _Pym._ --Since we two met At Greenwich? Yes: poor patriots though we be, You cut a figure, makes some slight return For your exploits in Ireland! Changed indeed, Could our friend Eliot look from out his grave! Ah, Wentworth, one thing for acquaintance' sake, Just to decide a question; have you, now, Felt your old self since you forsook us? _Went._ Sir! _Pym._ Spare me the gesture! you misapprehend. Think not I mean the advantage is with me. I was about to say that, for my part, I never quite held up my head since then-- Was quite myself since then: for first, you see, I lost all credit after that event With those who recollect how sure I was Wentworth would outdo Eliot on our side. Forgive me: Savile, old Vane, Holland here, Eschew plain-speaking: 't is a trick I keep. _Went._ How, when, where, Savile, Vane, and Holland speak, Plainly or otherwise, would have my scorn, All of my scorn, sir ... _Pym._ ... Did not my poor thoughts Claim somewhat? _Went._ Keep your thoughts! believe the King Mistrusts me for their prattle, all these Vanes And Saviles! make your mind up, o' God's love, That I am discontented with the King! _Pym._ Why, you may be: I should be, that I know, Were I like you. _Went._ Like me? _Pym._ I care not much For titles: our friend Eliot died no lord, Hampden 's no lord, and Savile is a lord; But you care, since you sold your soul for one. I can 't think, therefore, your soul's purchaser Did well to laugh you to such utter scorn When you twice prayed so humbly for its price, The thirty silver pieces ... I should say, The Earldom you expected, still expect, And may. Your letters were the movingest! Console yourself: I 've borne him prayers just now From Scotland not to be oppressed by Laud, Words moving in their way: he 'll pay, be sure, As much attention as to those you sent. _Went._ False, sir! Who showed them you? Suppose it so, The King did very well ... nay, I was glad When it was shown me: I refused, the first! John Pym, you were my friend--forbear me once! _Pym._ Oh, Wentworth, ancient brother of my soul, That all should come to this! _Went._ Leave me! _Pym._ My friend, Why should I leave you?