Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/266

246 The bold so far, but still it tastes o' th' rash.

Why, let it taste! it tastes of love too; and

To all actions 't gives a pretty relish, that

Rag. My lord?

Bren. O, here!

Rag. 'Sfoot, y'are upon our sentries;

Move on this hand.

Bren. Where are we now?

Rag. Entering part of the fort:

Your lordship must be wet a little.

Bren. Why,

Are there here no guards?

Rag. There needs none: you presently

Must pass a place, where one's an army in

Defence, it is so steep and strait.

Bren. 'Tis well.

Rag. These are the steps of danger. Look to your way,

My lord.

Bren. I do not find such difficulty.

Wait me hereabouts.

So misers look upon their gold, which, while

They joy to see, they fear to lose; the pleasure

O' the sight scarce equalling the jealousy

Of being dispossess'd by others.

Her face is like the Milky Way i' th' sky,

A meeting of gentle lights without name.

Heavens!

Shall this fresh ornament of the world, this precious

Loveliness pass, with other common things,

Amongst the wastes of time? What pity 'twere!

Fran. [waking] Bless me!

Is it a vision, or Brennoralt?

Bren. Brennoralt, lady.

Fran. Brennoralt? innocence guard me!

What is't you have done, my lord?

Bren. Alas! I were