Adultery ... nay, Tab, you pitched me as I flung!
One word, I 'll up with fist ... No, sweet spouse, hold your tongue!
"I 'm hasting to the end. The Book, sirs—take and read!
You have my history in a nutshell,—ay, indeed!
It must off, my burden! See,—slack straps and into pit,
Roll, reach the bottom, rest, rot there—a plague on it!
For a mountain 's sure to fall and bury Bedford Town,
'Destruction'—that 's the name, and fire shall burn it down!
Oh, 'scape the wrath in time! Time 's now, if not too late.
How can I pilgrimage up to the wicket-gate?