Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/170

150 Ther. Well,

I will still obey, though I must fear it will

Be with me but as 'tis with tortured men,

Whom states preserve only to rack again.

Zir. All 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 you;

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 on's journey to the other world

Be to be well, he is.

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

Zir. Yes, madam, dead.

Orb. How? where?

Zir. I do not know particulars.

Orb. Dead!

Zir. Yes, madam.

Orb. Art sure he's dead?

Zir. Madam, I know him as certainly dead,

As I know you too must die hereafter.

Orb. Dead!

Zir. Yes, dead.

Orb. We must all die.

The sisters spin no cables for us mortals;

They're Thread, and Time, and Chance.