[Exeunt.
Enter Rugio, and Fryar Marco, amazed.
Rugio. Curst on our sights, our fond credulities,
A thousand curses on the Slave that cheated us,
The damn'd Slave.
Mar. We have e'n sham'd our service,
Brought our best care and loyalties to nothing,
'Tis the most fearful poyson, the most potent,
Heaven give him patience; Oh it works most strongly,
And tears him, Lord.
Rug. That we should be so stupid
To trust the arrant'st Villain that e'r flatter'd,
The bloodiest too, to believe a few soft words from him,
And give way to his prepar'd tears.
Within, Alphonso. Oh, Oh, Oh.
Rug. Hark, Fryar Marco, hark, the poor Prince, that
we should be such Block-heads,
As to be taken with his drinking first!
And never think what Antidotes are made for!
Two wooden sculls we have, and we deserve to be hang'd for't;
For certainly it will be laid to our charge;
As certain too, it will dispatch him speedily,
Which way to turn, or what to—
Mar. Let's pray, Heavens hand is strong.
Rug. The poyson's strong, you would say.