Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/449

 COUNTESS OP WINCHILSEA 311 �Has sown amongst us, the foul seeds of vice, �They shall not thrive, or bear their fruits in Rhodes. �Month. My lord, you take the best, and surest method, By setting such a pattern as your conduct, Who lead, before your forty 'th year's arriv'd, A life, that aged Hermitts cannot reach to. �Aub. I wou'd do so, but speak of that no more. This night, I talk'd to Vilmarin and Linian, 10 �And freindly counsail'd them, to leave their vices, At which they smil'd and said they'd be more secret My Confessour too, 'ere he left my Clossett, Pour'd out a flood of tears, and cry'd beware, Beware hypocrisy, that sin of Devills. It something troubles me to know the meaning, But I have trespass'd on thy rest too long, Only remember this, to tell Capriccio, When next he's drunk, I'll have him sleep Without his Souldiers office. 20 �Good-night Monthaleon. �Mont. Good-night my Lord, and rest compose your thoughts. [Exeunt severally. �ACT IV SCENE I �Marina's Chamber. She appears drest in her Woman's habbitt �Mar. I've wept enough, and now farwell, for ever, Farwell my good, my great, my gen'rous Master Farwell these walls, where I have felt more sorrow Than all the stones can count, that make the pile. Farwell Rivalto, Auther of my ruine ; The world farwell, and, all itts vain delusions. Yett, there's one farwell more, cou'd I but speak itt, But oh ! 'twere vain, to say farwell false Blanfort, Since in my heart, I bear him with me still, ��� �