Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/150

130 heavy after death, as your private retir'd ones: look if he

be not reduc'd to the state of a courtier of the second form

now, and cannot stand upon his own legs, nor do anything

without help! Hum! and what's become of the great

prince in prison, as they call it now, the toy within us

that makes us talk and laugh and fight. Ay, why, there's

it. Well, let him be what he will, and where he will, I'll

make bold with the old tenement here. Come, sir, come

along.

Zir. All's fast too here—

They sleep to-night i' their winding-sheets, I think;

There's such a general quiet. O, here's light,

I warrant;

For lust does take as little rest as care

Or age—courting her glass, I swear. Fie! that's

A flatterer, madam!

In me you shall see trulier what you are.

Orb. What make you up at this strange hour, my lord?

Zir. My business is my boldness' warrant, madam.

And I could well afford t' have been without

It now, had heav'n so pleas'd.

Orb. 'Tis a sad prologue.

What follows, in the name of virtue?

Zir. The king.

Orb. Ay, what of him? is well, is he not?

Zir. Yes.

If to be free from the great load we sweat

And labour under here on earth, be to

Be well, he is.

Orb. Why, he's not dead, is he?

Zir. Yes, madam, slain; and the prince too.

Orb. How? where?

Zir. I know not; but dead they are.

Orb. Dead?

Zir. Yes, madam.

Orb. Didst see them dead?

Zir. As I see you alive.

Orb. Dead!

Zir. Yes, dead.

Orb. Well, we must all die;