You shall have your desire. A blessing come along with it. Lord Card. [repeats] "You see, my Lords, what all earth's glory is, Rightly defined in me, uncertain breath: "A dream of threescore years to the long sleeper, "To most not half the time. Beware ambition; "And you Lord Cardinal labor to perfect "Good purposes begun, be what you seem, "But 'tis a pain more than the pangs of death ""Twould come more calm than an evening's peace, “Unto the man, that ever should enjoy thee. Duch. "My lov'd Lord, "Let your confirm'd opinion of my life, 66 My love, my faithful love, seal an assurance "Of quiet to your spirit, that no forgetfulness "Can cast a sleep so deadly on my senses, "To draw my affections to a second liking.” Lord Card. "It has ever been the promise, and the spring "Of my great love to thee. For, once to marry "Is honorable in woman, and her ignorance "I here expect a work of thy great faith: My soul and it shall fly to heaven together: "Seal to my spirit that quiet satisfaction, "And I go hence in peace." Duch. "Then here I vow, never Lord Card. Why, Madam Duch. I can go no further. Lord Card. What, have you forgot your vow? Duch. I have, too certainly. Lord Card. Your vow? that cannot be; it follows now, Just where I left. Duch. My frailty gets before it; Nothing prevails but ill. Lord Card. What ail you, Madam? NO WIT HELP LIKE A WOMAN'S. A COMEDY. BY THOMAS MIDDLETON. Virtuous Poverty. 'Life, had he not his answer? what strange impudence Governs in man, when lust is lord of him! Thinks he me mad? 'cause I have no monies on earth, That I'll go forfeit my estate in heaven, And live eternal beggar? he shall pardon me; That's my soul's jointure; I'll starve ere I sell that. Wake, wake, and let not patience keep thee poor, Wipe the salt dew from off thy careful eyes, Good and Ill Fortune. O my blessing! I feel a hand of mercy lift me up Out of a world of waters, and now sets me And scarce can feed himself: the streams of fortune, To lift his arm to his posterities' blessing. About his temples, but all will not do: For till some happy means relieve his state, There he must stick and bide the wrath of fate. Parting in Amity. Let our Parting Be full as charitable as our meeting was; And nuptial strifes, may not feed fat with ours. Meeting with a Wife supposed Dead. Mother's Forgiveness. Moth. Why do your words start back? are they afraid Of her that ever lov'd them? Philip. I have a suit to you, Madam. Moth. You have told me that already; pray, what is 't? I shall be abler, then command and use it. To set my pleasures free; while you lay captive. You use me like a stranger: pray, stand up. Philip. Rather fall flat: I shall deserve yet worse. Moth. Whate'er your faults are, esteem me still a friend; Or else you wrong me more in asking pardon Than when you did the wrong you ask'd it for: And since you have prepar'd me to forgive you. Pray let me know for what; the first fault's nothing. Philip. Here comes the wrong then that drives home the rest. I saw a face at Antwerp, that drew me From conscience and obedience; in that fray I lost my heart, I must needs lose my way. And that yourself was dead.-You see the wrong. I forgive thee As freely as thou didst it. For alas, This may be call'd good dealing, to some parts That love and youth plays daily among sons. THE WITCH: A TRAGI-COMEDY. BY THOMAS MIDDLETON. HECATE, and the other Witches, at their Charms. Hec. Titty and Tiffin, Suckin And Pidgen, Liard and Robin! White spirits, black spirits, grey spirits, red spirits, Devil-toad, devil-ram, devil-cat, and devil-dam, Why Hoppo and Stadlin, Hellwain and Puckle! Stad. Here, sweating at the vessel. Hec. Boil it well. Hop. It gallops now. Hec. Are the flames blue enough, Or shall I use a little seeten* more? Stad. The nips of Fairies upon maids' white hips Are not more perfect azure. Hec. Tend it carefully. Send Stadlin to me with a brazen dish, Stad. Here's Stadlin and the dish. Hec. Here take this unbaptized brat : Boil it well-preserve the fat: You know 'tis precious to transfer In moonlight nights, o'er steeple tops, Mountains, and pine trees, that like pricks, or stops, Seem to our height: high towers, and roofs of princes, Like wrinkles in the earth: whole provinces Appear to our sight then even like A russet mole upon some lady's cheek. When hundred leagues in air, we feast and sing, Dance, kiss, and coll, use everything: What young man can we wish to pleasure us, But we enjoy him in an Incubus? Thou know'st it, Stadlin? Stad. Usually that's done. Hec. Away, in. Go feed the vessel for the second hour. Hec. They're down his throat,t His mouth cramm'd full; his ears and nostrils stuft. * Seething. The dead Child's. |