Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/294

274 And with a speaking eye command bare heads

And knees. But now

Greatness is but the shadow of the beams

Of prince's favours, nourish'd in extremes;

First taught to creep, and feed on hopes, to live

Upon the glance, and humbly to observe

Each under-minion, till its own desire

Work itself near enough to set itself on fire.

Fain would I make my audit up with heaven,

For 'tis a large one; but the small, vain hopes,

Which yet I have of life and of revenge,

Smother these thoughts within me

Faster than they are born.

A ghostly father!

My minutes are but few, I see by this.

Sir, you are welcome:

I was but now considering how to die,

And, trust me, I do find it something hard.

I shall extremely need some such good help

As yours to do it well.

Fid. Faith, my lord, divines do hold

The way to die well is to live well first.

Clar. Fidelio!

Fid. Not too loud: there's danger in't.

The king has promised life; but none as ye

Must know't: the enemies are too potent,

And must be soft'ned by degrees.

Clar. Why, then,

I see he hath not quite forgot pass'd services.

Fid. Not too much of that:

This is not gratitude; or, if it be, it does

As thankfulness in great ones use[s] to do;

It looks asquint, and seems to turn to favours,

But regards new ends.

Clar. Prithee, unriddle.

Fid. Why, to be short, it is your daughter's beauty,

Not your merit.

Clar. My fears prompt me too quick:

She's not turned whore, is she?

Fid. No; but her honesty is so strait beset,