Fri. O, my too rigid Fate, to place me thus on such a dangerous Precipice, that wheresoe’re I turn my self for help, I see my Ruin still before mine Eyes.
[Seems to weep.
Bon. [Pausing.] Stay—The Command which thy Medea sent thee, was to kill thy only dearest Friend, was it not?
Fri. Alas! it was.
Bon. Then here, all Friendship dies between us; thus hast thou kill’d thy Friend, and satisfied that infernal Hag, thy cursed Mistress, who thus commanded thee: Away, I say, begon, and never see me more.
Fri. Ha!
Bon. Yes, base ungrateful Wretch, farewel, (Offers to go) —Yet stay, and since that Sacred Tie of Friendship’s broke, know thou, most vile of Men, that Bonvile’s now thy Enemy; therefore do thou draw and guard thy spotted Life.
Fri. How, Friend!
Bon. Friend didst thou call me? On forfeit of thy Life that word no more; the very Name of Friend from thee, shall be a Quarrel: How can I tell but that thou lovest my Wife, and therefore feign’d this damn’d Design to draw me from her Arms?
Fri. How! wrong thy Wife? O no, I never had a Thought so vile! Yet you must forgive me, indeed you must, by all that once was dear to me; and what I dare not mention more, by Love and Honour, I implore thy Pardon—Still art thou deaf to my Complaints?—Nay, then upon my Knee, I will enforce thy Pity. Behold me, Bonvile, prostrate at thy Feet, crawling for Mercy, swimming in Tears, and almost drown’d with Shame; extend thy Arm to help me, as thou’rt a Man, be God-like in thy Nature, and raise me from the Grave; turn thy Eyes on me, and sink me not with Frowns; O save me, save me, or I fall for ever.
Bon. As soon shall Heav’n reverse the Fate of Hell, as I recal what I have said, or plant thee in my Breast again.