Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/310

290 Does his mean fortunes truly recompense:

He feels no hot loves, nor no palsy-fears,

No fits of filthy lusts, or of pale jealousies:

He wants, it's true, our clothes, our masks, our diet,

And wants our cares, our fears, and our disquiets.

But this

Is all but raving, and does distemper more.

I'll sleep. [Lies all along on the ground.] Boy, sing the song I gave you.

Hast thou seen the down i' th' air, when wanton blasts have tost it; Or the ship on the sea, when ruder waves have crost it? Hast thou mark'd the crocodile's weeping, or the fox's sleeping? Or hast view'd the peacock in his pride, or the dove by his bride, when he courts for his lechery? O, so fickle, O, so vain, O, so false, so false is she! Flor. Good boy, leave me!

Clar. How now, Florelio, melancholy?

Flor. No, I was studying.

Prithee, resolve me, whether it be better to

Maintain a strong, implicit faith, that can

By no means be opprest?

Or, falling to the bottom at the first,

Arm'd with disdain and with contempts, to scorn the worst?

Clar. This is a subtle one; but why studying about this?

Flor. Faith, I would find a good receipt for the headache,

That's all.

Clar. Hum,

I know uownow [sic] whereabouts you are. No more on't!

I'm come to clear those doubts— Your wife is chaste,

Chaste as the turtle-dove.

Flor. Ha, ha, ha!

Clar. Ha!

Why do you laugh? I know she is: 'tis not