Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/254

234 The subject being of so fine a nature,

It not submits itself to sense, but 'scapes

The trials which conclude all common doubts.

Fran. My lord, you use me as ill painters paint,

Who, while they labour to make faces fair,

Neglect to make them like.

Iph. Madam,

There is no shipwreck of your virtues near,

That you should throw away any of all

Your excellences to save the dearest, modesty.

Gen. If they

Proceed with us, we can retreat unto

Our expositions and the people's votes.

If they

Refuse us wholly, then we plead the king's

Besieg'd, blocked up so straitly by some few,

Relief can find no way to enter to

The king, or to get out to us.

Exclaim against it loud, till the Polonians

Think it high injustice, and wish us better yet.

Then easily do we rise unto our ends,

And will become their envy through their pity.

At worst you may confirm our party there,

Increase it too. There is one Brennoralt;

Men call him gallant, but a discontent:

My cousin the king hath us'd him ill. Him a handsome

Whisper will draw. The afternoon shall perfect

What we have loosely now resolv'd.

Iph. If in discourse of beauty

(So large an empire) I do wander, it will

Become your goodness, madam, to set me right,

And, in a country, where you yourself is queen,

Not suffer strangers lose themselves.

Gen. What, making revenges, Palatine,

And taking prisoners fair ladies' hearts?

Iph. Yes, my lord,

And have no better fortune in this war

Than in the other; for, while I think to take,

I am surpris'd myself.

Fran. Dissembler, would thou wert!

Mens. You are a courtier, my lord.

The Palatine of Plocence, Almerin,

Will grace the hymenæals:

And that they may be while his stay is here,