Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/281

] With pleasure, believing I had been your martyr.

Now

Iph. She looks pale! Francelia!

Fran. I cannot stay:

A hasty summons hurries me away,

And—gives—no

Iph. She's gone,

She's gone! Life, like a dial's hand, hath stol'n

From the fair figure, ere it was perceiv'd. [A noise within. Enter Soldiers. She thinks them Almerin What will become of me? Too late, too late

Y'are come: you may persuade wild birds, that wing

The air, into a cage, as soon as call

Her wand'ring spirits back.

Ha!

Those are strange faces: there's a horror in them;

And, if I stay, I shall be taken for

The murtherer. O, in what straits they move,

That wander 'twixt death, fears, and hopes of love!

Bren. Forbear, upon your lives,

The place! There dwells Divinity within it.

All else the castle holds is lawful prize,

Your valour's wages: this I claim as mine.

Guard you the door.

Grd. Coronel, shall you use all the women yourself?

Bren. Away! 'tis unseasonable.

Awake, fair saint, and bless thy poor idolater.

Ha! pale? And cold? And dead ?

The sweetest guest fled—murdered, by heaven!

The purple streams not dry yet!

Some villain has broke in before me,

Robb'd all my hopes; but I will find him out,

And kick his soul to hell. I'll do't.

[Dragging out Iphigene] Speak!

Iph. What should I say?

Bren. Speak, or by all

Iph. Alas! I do confess