Mar. He weeps again, his heart is toucht sure with remorse.
Sor. See this, and give me fair attention good my Lord,
And worthy Father see, within this viol
The remedy and cure of all my honour,
And of the sad Prince lyes.
Rug. What new trick's this?
Sor. 'Tis true, I have done Offices abundantly
Ill and prodigious to the Prince Alphonso,
And whilst I was a knave I sought his death too.
Rug. You are too late convicted to be good yet.
Sor. But Father, when I felt this part afflict me,
This inward part, and call'd me to an audit
Of my misdeeds and mischiefs—
Mar. Well, go on Sir.
Sor. O then, then, then what was my glory then Father?
The favour of the King, what did that ease me?
What was it to be bow'd to by all creatures?
Worship[t], and courted, what did this avail me?
I was a wretch, a poor lost wretch.
Mar. Still better.
Sor. Till in the midst of all my grief I found
Repentance, and a learned man to give the means to it,
A Jew, an honest and a rare Physician,
Of him I had this Jewel; 'tis a Jewel,
And at the price of all my wealth I bought it:
If the King knew it I must lose my head,
And willingly, most willingly I would suffer,
A child may take it, 'tis so sweet in working.