Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/138

118 Iol. How so?

Ari. Dost think he shall not feel the weight of this,

As well as poor Thersames?

Iol. Shall we then kill him, too, at the same instant?

Ari. And say the prince made an unlucky thrust.

Iol. Right.

Ari. Dull, dull, he must not die so uselessly.

As when we wipe off filth from any place,

We throw away the thing that made it clean;

So, this once done, he's gone.

Thou know'st

The people love the prince: to their rage something

The state must offer up. Who fitter than

Thy rival and my enemy?

Iol. Rare!

Our witness will be taken.

Ari. Pish! let me

Alone. The giants that made mountains ladders,

And thought to take great love by force, were fools:

Not hill on hill, but plot on plot, does make

Us sit above, and laugh at all below us.

Boy. Madam, 'twill make you melancholy,

I'll sing the prince's song; that's sad enough.

Agl. What you will, sir.

No, no, fair heretic, it needs must be But an ill love in me, And worse for thee.

For were it in my power, To love thee now this hour More than I did the last;

'Twould then so fall, I might not love at all. Love that can flow, and can admit increase, Admits as well an ebb, and may grow less.

True love is still the same: the torrid zones, And those more frigid ones, It must not know;