_Rach_. I doe forgive you from my verie soule,
And thinke not that I shed these store of teares,
For that I price my life, or feare to dye,
Though I confesse the manner of my death
Is much more grievous then my death it selfe;
But I lament for that it hath beene said
I was the author of this crueltie
And did produce you to this wicked deede,
Whereof God knowes that I am innocent.
_Mer_. Indeede thou art; thy conscience is at peace,
[_Goe up the lather_.
And feeles no terror for such wickednesse;
Mine hath beene vexed but is now at rest,
For that I am assur'd my hainous sinne
Shall never rise in judgement gainst my soule,
But that the blood of _Jesus Christ_ hath power
To make my purple sinne as white as Snowe.
One thing, good people, witnesse here with me,
That I doe dye in perfect charitie,
And do forgive, as I would be forgiven
First of my God and then of all the world.
Cease publishing that I have beene a man
Train'd up in murther or in crueltie,
For fore this time, this time is all too soone,
I never slue or did consent to kill;
So helpe me God as this I speake is true!
I could say something of my innocence,
In fornication and adulterie,
But I confesse the iustest man alive,
That beares about the frailtie of a man,
Cannot excuse himselfe from daily sinne
In thought, in word, and deed.
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