Tam. O, servant, help, and save me from the gripes
Of shame and infamy. Our love is knowne;
Your Monsieur hath a paper where is writ
Some secret tokens that decipher it.30
Buss. What cold dull Northern brain, what foole but he,
Durst take into his Epimethean breast
A box of such plagues as the danger yeelds
Incur'd in this discovery? He had better
Ventur'd his breast in the consuming reach35
Of the hot surfets cast out of the clouds,