a friend.

_Amint_. Forgive what I have done;
For I am so ore-gone with injuries
Unheard of, that I lose consideration
Of what I ought to do--oh--oh.

_Mel_. Do not weep; what is't?
May I once but know the man
Hath turn'd my friend thus?

_Amint_. I had spoke at first, but that.

_Mel_. But what?

_Amint_. I held it most unfit
For you to know; faith do not know it yet.

_Mel_. Thou seest my love, that will keep company
With thee in tears; hide nothing then from me;
For when I know the cause of thy distemper,
With mine own armour I'le adorn my self,
My resolution, and cut through thy foes,
Unto thy quiet, till I place thy heart
As peaceable as spotless innocence. What is it?

_Amint_. Why, 'tis this--it is too big
To get out, let my tears make way a while.

_Mel_. Punish me strangely heaven, if he escape