Lato. Why should this trouble you?
Rol. It does, and must do till I find ease.
Lato. Consider then, and quickly;
And like a wise man, take the current with you,
Which once turn'd head, will sink you; blest occasion
Offers her self in thousand safeties to you;
Time standing still to point you out your purpose,
And resolution (the true child of Vertue)
Readie to execute: what dull cold weakness
Has crept into your bosom, whose meer thoughts
Like tempests, plowing up the sayling Forests,
Even with their swing were wont to shake down hazards.
What is't, your Mothers tears?
Rol. Pray thee be patient.
Lat. Her hands held up? her prayers, or her curses?
Oh power of paper dropt through by a woman!
Take heed the Souldiers see it not; 'tis miserable,
In Rollo below miserable; take heed your friends,
The sinews of your cause, the strength you stir by,
Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed
Your own repentance (like a passing-bell)
Too late, and too loud, tell the world y'are perisht:
What noble spirit, eager of advancement,
Whose imployment is his plough; what sword whose sharpness
Waits but the arm to wield it; or what hope,
After the world has blown abroad this weakness,
Will move again, or make a wish for Rollo?
Rol. Are we not friends again by each oath ratified,
Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts?
Lat. Poor hearts then.
Rol. Our worthier friends.
Lat. No friends Sir, to your honour;
Friends to your fall: where is your understanding,
The noble vessel that your full soul sail'd in,
Rib'd round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruin'd,
The tempest of a womans sighs has sunk it.
Friendship, take heed Sir, is a smiling harlot
That when she kisses, kills, a soder'd friendship
Piec'd out with promises; O painted ruine!
Rol. Latorch, he is my Brother.