Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/259

] Iph. [spying her]. Francelia!

If, through the ignorance of places, I

Have intruded on your privacies, found out

Forbidden paths, 'tis fit you pardon, madam;

For 'tis my melancholy, not I, offends.

Fran. So great a melancholy would well become

Mischances, such as time could not repair.

Those of the war are but the petty cures

Of every coming hour.

Iph. [aside]. Why

Should I not tell her all? since 'tis in her

To save my life? Who knows, but she may be

Gallant so far, as to undo herself

To make another happy?

[Aloud] Madam,

The accidents of war contribute least

To my sad thoughts (if any such I have)—

Imprisonment can never be,

Where the place holds what we must love; and yet

Fran. My lord?

Iph. In this imprisonment

Fran. Proceed,

My lord.

Iph. I dare not, madam.

Fran. I see.

I do disturb you, and enter upon secrets,

Which when I know, I cannot serve you in them.

Iph. O, most of any! You are the cause of all.

Fran. I, my lord?

Iph. You, madam, you alone!

Fran. [aside]. Alas, that 'tis so soon to understand!

Iph. Must not you marry Almerin?

Fran. They tell me 'tis design'd.

Iph. If he have you, I am for ever lost.

Fran. Lost!

The heavens forbid they should design so ill;

Or, when they shall, that I should be the cause!

Iph. [aside]. Ha!

Her eyes are strangely kind: she prompts me excellently.

Stars, be propitious: and I am safe!—

A way I not expected.

Fran. [aside]. His passion labours for vent.

Iph. Is there a hope you will not give yourself

To Almerin?