FREEWILL.
Yea, but can they then go no more?
IMAGINATION.
Oh, no, man; the wrest is twist so sore,
For as soon as they have said In manus tuas once,
By God, their breath is stopped at once.
FREEWILL.
Why, do they pray in that place there?
IMAGINATION.
Yea, sir, they stand in great fear,
And so fast tangled in that snare,
It falleth to their lot to have the same share.
FREEWILL.
That is a knavish sight to see them totter on a beam.