Enan. Would y'have me then [to] kill my selfe, and die, And goe I know not to what places there?
Petron. What places dost thou feare? Th'ill-favoured lake they tell thee thou must passe, And the[92] blacke frogs that croake about the brim?
Enan. O, pardon, Sir, though death affrights a woman, Whose pleasures though you timely here divine, The paines we know and see.
Petron. The paine is lifes; death rids that paine away.
Come boldly, there's no danger in this foord;
Children passe through it. If it be a paine
You have this comfort that you past it are.
Enan. Yet all, as well as I, are loath to die.
Petron. Judge them by deed, you see them doe't apace.
Enan. I, but 'tis loathly and against their wils.
Petron. Yet know you not that any being dead
Repented them and would have liv'd againe.
They then there errors saw and foolish prayers,
But you are blinded in the love of life;
Death is but sweet to them that doe approach it.
To me, as one that tak'n with Delphick rage,
When the divining God his breast doth fill,
He sees what others cannot standing by,
It seemes a beauteous and pleasant thing.—
Where is my deaths Phisitian?
Phisi. Here, my Lord.
Petron. Art ready?