Are. Dear Sir be patient yet, or stay that hand.
King. Sirs, strip that boy.
Di. Come Sir, your tender flesh will try your constancie.
Bell. O kill me gentlemen.
Di. No, help Sirs.
Bell. Will you Torture me?
King. Hast there, why stay you?
Bell. Then I shall not break my vow, You know just gods, though I discover all.
King. How's that? Will he confess?
Di. Sir, so he says.