scene 5
BUTLER
Foul villain, can thy pitchy-colored soul
Permit thine ear to hear her causeless doom,
And not enforce thy tongue that tale control,
That must unjustly bring her to her tomb?
Oh, Salome, thou hast thyself repaid
For all the benefits that thou hast done:
Thou art the cause I have the queen betrayed,
Thou hast my heart to darkest falsehood won.
I am condemned, Heav'n gave me not my tongue
To slander innocents, to lie, deceive:
To be the hateful instrument to wrong,
The earth of greatest glory to bereave.
My sin ascends and doth to Heaven cry,
It is the blackest deed that ever was:
And there doth sit an angel notary,
That doth record it down in leaves of bra**.
Oh, how my heart doth quake: Achitophel,
Thou founds a means thyself from shame to free
And sure my soul approves thou didst not well;
All follow some, and I will follow thee. [Exit.]