But am so far from that foul thing he nam’d,
That could I think I had a secret Thought
That tended that way, I would search it—thus— [Goes to stab himself.
Cleo. What mean you by this Desperation?
Silv. Oh, take away this Woman from my sight. [Pointing to Cleonte.
For she will finish what this has ill begun. [Holds his Dagger up.
Franc. Thus low, Sir, for you Mercy I must kneel; [Kneels.
Which yet I must despair of, when you know
[How very very wicked] I have been. [Weeps.
Cleonte, Sir, is chaste as Angels are.