Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/255

I'll court my lord in absence; take off for you
The little strangenesses virgins wear at first———
Look to the Palatine![Iphigene swoons85

Mor. How is't, my dearest Iphigene?[Aside

Iph. Not well, I would retire.

Gen. A qualm?

Lord. His colour stole away; sank down as water
In a weather-glass pressed by a warm hand.90

Mens. A cordial of kind looks———

Enter a Trumpet blinded

From the king!

Mor. Let us withdraw, and hear him.[Exeunt

 

Scene IV
Enter Brennoralt, Doran, Raguelin

Dor. Yes, to be married! What, are you mute now?

Bren. Thou cam'st too hastily upon me, put'st
So close the colours to mine eye, I could
Not see. It is impossible.

Dor. Impossible?
If 'twere impossible, it should be otherwise;5
What can you imagine there of constancy,
Where 'tis so much their nature to love change,
That, when they say but what they are, they excuse
Themselves for what they do?

Bren. She hardly knows him yet, in such an instant.10

Dor. O, you know not how fire flies, when it does catch
Light matter, woman.

Bren. No more of that! She is yet
The most precious thing in all my thoughts.
If it be so,
I am a lost thing in the world, Doran.[Studies15

Dor. How?

Bren. Thou wilt in vain persuade me to be other.
Life, which to others is a good, that they
Enjoy, to me will be an evil, I
Shall suffer in.20

Dor. Look on another face: that's present remedy.

Bren. How ill thou dost conclude!
'Cause there are pestilent airs, which kill men suddenly
In health, must there be sovereign, as suddenly
To cure in sickness? 't never was in nature.[Exit25