Sep. He was poor.
Pho. And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit.
Sep. I am afraid you will once more—
Pho. Help to raise thee:
Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier,
And put on resolution like a man,
A noble Fate waits on thee.
Sep. I now feel
My self returning Rascal speedily.
O that I had the power—