Gob.
Sir I hate a lie.
As I love God and honestie, I did:
It was my meaning.
Arb.
Be thine owne sad Judge,
A further condemnation will not need:
Prepare thy selfe to die.
Gob.
Why Sir to die?
Arb.
Why wouldst thou live, was ever yet offender
So impudent, that had a thought of mercy
After confession of a crime like this?
Get out I cannot, where thou hurlst me in,
But I can take revenge, that's all the sweetnesse
Left for me.
Gob.
Now is the time, heare me but speake.