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dagger from under his clothes, stabs himself)

Rud. Now, take your will of me, and drag my corse Thro' mire and dust; your shameless fury now Can do me no disgrace.

Urston. (advancing.) Rash, daring, thoughtless wretch! dost thou so close A wicked life in hardy desperation?

Rud. Priest, spare thy words: I add not to my sins That of presumption, in pretending now To offer up to Heaven the forced repentance Of some short moments for a life of crimes.

Urst. My son, thou dost mistake me: let thy heart Confession make

Glot. (interrupting Urst.) Yes, dog! Confession make Of what thou'st done with Orra; else I'll spurn thee, And cast thy hateful carcase to the kites.

Nay, nay, forbear; such outrage is unmanly. El. Oh, Rudigere! thou art a dying man, And we will speak to thee without upbraiding. Confess, I do entreat thee, ere thou goest