Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/247

] This was a misbecoming piece of love:

Women would manage a disaster better.

[Iphigene weeps and sighs again Again? thou art unkind!

Thy goodness is so great it makes thee faulty:

For, while thou think'st to take the trouble from me,

Thou givest me more by giving me thine too.

Iph. Alas! I am indeed an useless trifle,

A dull, dull thing; for, could I now do anything

But grieve and pity, I might help. My thoughts

Labour to find a way; but, like to birds

In cages, though they never rest, they are

But where they did set out at first.

Gao. My lords, your pardon. The prisoner must retire.

I have receiv'd an order from the king

Denies access to any.

Iph. He cannot be

So great a tyrant.

Alm. I thank him; nor can

He use me ill enough. I only grieve

That I must die in debt—a bankrupt! Such

Thy love hath made me: my dear Iphigene,

Farewell. It is no time for ceremony.

Show me the way I must.

Iph. Grief strove with such disorder to get out,

It stopp'd the passage, and sent back my words

That were already on the place.

Mel. Stay, there

Is yet a way.

Iph. Oh, speak it!

Mel. But there is

Danger in't, Iphigene—to thee high danger.

Iph. Fright children in the dark with that, and let

Me know it. There is no such thing in nature,

If Almerin be lost.

Mel. Thus then: you must

Be taken pris'ner too, and by exchange

Save Almerin.

Iph. How can that be?

Mel. Why [He studies, then calls to the Gaoler]

Step in,