Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/197

] A scratch: it is within, to see this beauty;

For by all circumstance it was her brother

Whom my unlucky sword found out to-day.

Sabrina. Oh, my too cruel fancy!

Samorat. It was indeed

Thy sword, but not thy fault; I am the cause

Of all these ills. Why do you weep, Sabrina?

Sabrina. Unkind unto thyself and me,

The tempest this sad news has rais'd within me

I would have laid with tears, but thou disturb'st me.

O Samorat,

Hadst thou consulted but with love as much

As honour, this had never been.

Samorat. I have no love for thee, that has not had

So strict an union with honour still,

That in all things they were concern 'd alike;

And, if there could be a division made,

It would be found, honour had here the leaner share:

'Twas love that told me 'twas unfit that you

Should love a coward.

Sabrina. These handsome words

Are now as if one bound up wounds with silk,

Or with fine knots, which do not help the cure,

Or make it heal the sooner. O Samorat,

This accident lies on our love like to

Some foul disease which, though it kill it not,

Yet will't destroy the beauty; disfigure't so,

That 'twill look ugly to the world hereafter.

Samorat. Must then the acts of fate be crimes of men?

And shall a death he pull'd upon himself

Be laid on others?

Remember, sweet, how often you have said

It in the face of heaven, that 'twas no love,

Which length of time or cruelty of chance

Could lessen or remove. Oh, kill me not

That way, Sabrina! This is the nobler.

Take it, and give it entrance anywhere

But here; for you so fill that place, that you

Must wound yourself.

Orsabrin. Am I so slight a thing?

So bankrupt? So unanswerable in this world

That, being principally in the debt,

Another must be call'd upon, and I