Stay, sir.
I hope you have made your will.
If not,'tis no great matter.
A broken cavalier has seldom much He can bequeath; an old worn peruke, A snuffbox with a picture of Prince Rupert, A rusty sword he'll swear was used at Naseby, Though it ne'er came within ten miles of the place; And if he's very rich, A cheap edition of the _Icon Basilike_, Is mostly all the wealth he dies possest of.
You say few prayers, I fancy;-- So to it again.

[_They fight again._ LOVEL _is disarmed._ _Lovel_.

You had best now take my life.

I guess you mean it.
_John_ (_musing_).

No:--Men will say I fear'd him, if I kill'd him.
Live still, and be a traitor in thy wish, But never act thy thought, being a coward.
That vengeance, which thy soul shall nightly thirst for, And this disgrace I've done you cry aloud for, Still have the will without the power to execute.
So now I leave you, Feeling a sweet security.