Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/194

174 I must attempt this wall. O, a lucky door,

And open!

Where am I now? A garden, and

A handsome house!

If't be thy will, a porch to't, and I'm made;

'Twill be the better lodging of the two.

Phemilia. O, welcome, welcome, sir!

My lady hath been in such frights for you.

Orsabrin. Hum! for me!

Phemilia. And thought you would not come to-night.

Orsabrin. Troth, I might very well have fail'd her.

Phemilia. She's in the gallery, alone i' th' dark.

Orsabrin. Good, very good.

Phemilia. And is so melancholy.

Orsabrin. Hum!

Phemilia. Have you shut the garden doors?

Come, I'll bring you to her; enter, enter.

Orsabrin. Yes, I will enter:

He who has lost himself, makes no great venter.

Sabrina. Oh, welcome!

Welcome, as open air to prisoners;

I have had such fears for you.

Orsabrin. She's warm, and soft as lovers' language:

She spoke, too, prettily. Now have I forgot

All the danger I was in.

Sabrina. What have you done to-day, my better part?

Orsabrin. Kind little rogue!

I could say the finest things to her, methinks;

But then she would discover me:

The best way will be to fall to quietly.

Sabrina. How now, my Samorat!

What saucy heat hath stol'n into thy blood,