Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done:
You fled for vantage, every one will swear;
[♦] But, if I bow, they’ll say it was for fear.
30 There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If the first hour I shrink and run away.
Here on my knee I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserved with infamy.
Tal. Shall all thy mother’s hopes lie in one tomb?
35 John. Ay, rather than I’ll shame my mother’s womb.