SCENE VI.--_The Hall of_ Frankford’s _House_. Nicholas _discovered_. Nicholas. Here’s a circumstance. A man be made cuckold in the time That he’s about it. An the case were mine, As ’tis my master’s,--’sblood that he makes me swear!-- I would have placed his action, entered there; I would, I would. _Enter_ Frankford. Frankford. Oh! oh! Nicholas. Master, ’sblood! master! master! Frankford. O me unhappy! I have found them lying Close in each other’s arms, and fast asleep. But that I would not damn two precious souls, Bought with my Saviour’s blood, and send them, laden With all their scarlet sins upon their backs, Unto a fearful judgment, their two lives Had met upon my rapier. Nicholas. ’Sblood, master, what, have you left them sleeping still? let me go wake them. Frankford. Stay, let me pause a while. O God! O God! that it were possible To undo things done; to call back yesterday! That Time could turn up his swift sandy glass, To untell the days, and to redeem these hours! Or that the sun Could, rising from the west, draw his coach backward, Take from the account of time so many minutes, Till he had all these seasons called again, Those minutes, and those actions done in them, Even from her first offence; that I might take her As spotless as an angel in my arms! But, oh! I talk of things impossible, And cast beyond the moon.[1.38] God give me patience! For I will in and wake them. [_Exit_. Nicholas. Here’s patience perforce;[1.39] He needs must trot afoot that tires his horse. _Enter_ Wendoll, _running over the stage in a night-gown_, Frankford _after him with a sword drawn; a_ Maid-servant _in her smock stays his hand, and clasps hold on him_. Frankford _pauses for a while_. Frankford. I thank thee, maid; thou, like the angel’s hand, Hast stayed me from a bloody sacrifice.[1.40] [_Exit_ Maid-servant. Go, villain, and my wrongs sit on thy soul As heavy as this grief doth upon mine! When thou record’st my many courtesies, And shalt compare them with thy treacherous heart, Lay them together, weigh them equally, ’Twill be revenge enough. Go, to thy friend A Judas: pray, pray, lest I live to see Thee, Judas-like, hanged on an elder-tree. _Enter_ Mistress Frankford _in her night attire_. Mistress Frankford. Oh, by what word, what title, or what name, Shall I entreat your pardon? Pardon! oh! I am as far from hoping such sweet grace As Lucifer from heaven. To call you husband-- O me, most wretched! I have lost that name, I am no more your wife. Nicholas. ’Sblood, sir, she swoons. Frankford. Spare thou thy tears, for I will weep for thee: And keep thy countenance, for I’ll blush for thee. Now, I protest, I think ’tis I am tainted, For I am most ashamed; and ’tis more hard For me to look upon thy guilty face, Than on the sun’s clear brow. What wouldst thou speak?