Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/200

180 Sabrina. Run, run, Phemilia, to the garden walls,

And meet my Samorat. Tell him, O tell him—anything.

Charge him, by all our loves,

He instantly take horse and put to sea.

There is more safety in a storm, than where

My brother is.

Thieves. A prize! A prize! A prize!

Peridor. Bring him forth, bring him forth.

Welcome, welcome, mortal wight, To the mansion of the night. Good or bad, thy life discover; Truly all thy deeds declare; For about thee spirits hover, That can tell, tell what they are. Pinch him, if he speak not true; Pinch him, pinch him black and blue.

Peridor. What art thou?

Stramador. I was a man.

Peridor. Of whence?

Stramador. The court.

Peridor. Whither now bound?

Stramador. To my own house.

Peridor. Thy name?

Stramador. Stramador.

Peridor. O, you fill a place about

His grace, and keep out men of parts, d'you not?

Stramador. Yes.

Peridor. A foolish utensil of state

Which, like old plate upon a gaudy day,

'S brought forth to make a show, and that is all:

For of no use y'are. Y' had best deny this.

Stramador. O no!

Peridor. Or that you do want wit,

And then talk loud, to make that pass for it.

You think there is no wisdom but in form,

Nor any knowledge like to that of whispers.