Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/265

] But a coarse canvas in the naked truth,

Or some slight stuff.

Mor. I have a great mind to taste him.

Sol. Fie! a prisoner?

Mor. By this hand, if I thought

He courted my coronel's mistress in earnest!

Wom. [to Iph.] My lord,

My lord, my lady thinks the jessamine walks

Will be the finer: the freshness of th' morning

Takes off the strength o' th' heat, she says.

Iph. 'Tis well.

Mor. Mew! do it so?

I suspect vildly. We'll follow him, and see

If he be so far qualified towards a soldier,

As to drink a crash in's chamber.

Rag. What are these keys?

Wom. Hark you, I dare not do it.

Rag. How?

Wom. My lady will find

Rag. Scruples? Are my hopes

Become your fears? There was no other way

I should be anything in this lewd world;

And now—'sfoot, I know she longs to see him too.

Wom. Does she?

Rag. Do you think he would desire it else?

Wom. Ay, but

Rag. Why, let me secure it all.

I'll say I found the keys, or stole them. Come.

Wom. Well, if you ruin all now—here, these enter the

garden from the works; that, the privy walks; and that,

the back stairs. Then you know my chamber?

Rag. Yes, I know your chamber.

Bren. He comes not.

One wise thought more, and I return. I cannot

In this act separate the foolish from