Time. Nay, I must carry you into Vulcan's fire,
Where you shall be tried unto the uttermost.
Seeing Lust against Trust did daily conspire,
To dust he shall turn for all his great boast!
Both of you shall have one rigorous host;
Come therefore with speed, Time cannot tarry:
To the end of your felicity I will you carry.
Treas. If there be no remedy, then there is no shift.
Lust. He must needs go, that is driven by the devil's drift;
Ah! Cock's precious sides, what fortune is this!