Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/185



Samorat. my lords,

May not this harsh business yet be left undone?

Must you hate me, because I love your sister?

And can you hate at no less rate than death?

Philatel. No, at no less:

Thou art the blaster of our fortunes;

The envious cloud that darkens all our day.

While she thus prodigally and fondly throws

Away her love on thee, she has not where

Withal to pay a debt unto the Prince.

Samorat. Is this all?

Torcular. Faith,

What, if in short we do not think you worthy

Of her?

Samorat. I swear that shall not make a quarrel.

I think so too;

Have urg'd it often to myself;

Against myself have sworn't as oft to her.

Pray, let this satisfy.

Philatel. Sure, Torcular, he thinks we come to talk.

Look you, sir.

And, brother, since his friend has fail'd him,

Do you retire.

Torcular. Excuse me, Philatel;

I have an equal interest in this,

And fortune shall decide it.

Philatel. It will not need; he's come.

Orsabrin. Mercury protect me! what are these?

The brothers of the highway!