Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/280

Alm. Heavens!
What thing shall I appear unto the world?
Here might my ignorance find some excuse,
But, there,95
I was distracted. None, but one enrag'd
With anger to a savageness, would e'er
Have drawn a sword upon such gentle sweetness.
Be kind, and kill me—kill me, one of you!
Kill me, if't be but to preserve my wits.100
Dear Iphigene, take thy revenge, it will
Not misbecome thy sex at all; for 'tis
An act of pity, not of cruelty,
Thus to despatch a miserable man.

Fran. And thou wouldst be more miserable yet,105
While, like a bird made prisoner by itself,
Thou beat'st and beat'st thyself 'gainst everything,
And dost pass by that which should let thee out.

Alm. Is it my fault,
Or heaven's? Fortune, when she would play upon me,110
Like ill musicians, wound me up so high,
That I must crack sooner than move in tune.

Fran. Still you rave;
While we for want of present help may perish.

Alm. Right.115
A surgeon! I'll go find one instantly.
The enemy too!—I had forgot!
O, what fatality govern'd this night![Exit

Fran. How like an unthrift's case will mine be now?
For all the wealth he loses shifts but's place;120
And still the world enjoys it: and so will 't you,
Sweet Iphigene, though I possess you not.

Iph. What excelleuce of nature's this! Have you
So perfectly forgiv'n already, as to
Consider me a loss? I doubt which sex125
I shall be happier in. Climates of friendship
Are not less pleasant, 'cause they are less scorching,
Than those of love; and under them we'll live:
Such precious links of that we'll tie our souls
Together with, that the chains of the other130
Shall be gross fetters to it.

Fran. But I fear
I cannot stay the making. O, would you
Had never undeceiv'd me! for I had died