Duke. Do not tremble
At fears of thy own making.
Bran. Nor, great lord,
Make me not bold with death and deeds of ruin,
Because they fear not you; me they must fright;
Then am I best in health: should thunder speak
And none regard it, it had lost the name,
And were as good be still. I'm not like those
That take their soundest sleeps in greatest tempests ;
Then wake I most, the weather fearfullest,
And call for strength to virtue.
to have a being, and to live 'mongst men,
Is a fearful living and a poor one; let a man truly think on't.
To have the toil and griefs of fourscore years
Put up in a white sheet, tied with two knots:
Methinks it should strike earthquakes in adulterers,
When even the very sheets they commit sin in
May prove for aught they know all their last garments.
Did not the duke look up? methought he saw us.—
That's every one's conceit that sees a duke,
If he look stedfastly, he looks straight at them:
When he perhaps, good careful gentleman,
Never minds any, but the look he casts
Is at his own intentions, and his object
Only the public good.
Why should those tears be fetch'd forth? cannot love Be even as well express'd in a good look,
But it must see her face still in a fountain?
It shews like a country maid dressing her head
By a dish of water: come, 'tis an old custom
I did but chide in jest: the best loves use it
Sometimes; it sets an edge upon affection.
When we invite our best friends to a feast,
'Tis not all sweetmeats that we set before 'em ;
There's something sharp and salt, both to whet appetite,
And make 'em taste their wine well: so methinks,
After a friendly sharp and savory chiding,
A kiss tastes wondrous well, and full o' the grape.
Wedlock.
O thou the ripe time of man's misery, wedlock;
When all his thoughts like over-laden trees
Crack with the fruits they bear, in cares, in jealousies.
O that's a fruit that ripens hastily,
After 'tis knit to marriage; it begins,
As soon as the sun shines upon the bride,
A little to shew color.
Marrying the Adulteress, the Husband dead
Is not sin sure enough to wretched man,
But he must bind himself in chains to't? worse!
Must marriage, that immaculate robe of honor,
That renders Virtue glorious, fair, and fruitful,
To her great master, be now made the garment
Of leprosy and foulness? is this penitence,
To sanctify hot lust? what is it otherways
Than worship done to devils? is this the best
Amends that sin can make after her riots?
As if a drunkard, to appease heaven's wrath,
Should offer up his surfeit for a sacrifice:
If that be comely, then lust's offerings are
On wedlock's sacred altar.
MORE DISSEMBLERS BESIDES WOMEN: A COMEDY. BY THOMAS MIDDLETON.
when the heart's above, the body walks here
But like an idle servingman below,
Gaping and waiting for his master's coming.
He that lives fourscore years, is but like one
That stays here for a friend: when death comes, then he goes, and is ne'er seen again.
That follow flesh and blood,
The most ridiculous is to fawn on women;
There's no excuse for that: 'tis such a madness,
There is no cure set down for't; no physician
Ever spent hour about it, for they guess'd
'Twas all in vain, when they first lov'd, themselves,
And never since durst practise: cry heu mihi;
That's all the help they have for't. I'd rather meet
A witch far north than a fine fool in love;
The sight would less afflict me. But for modesty,
I should fall foul in words upon fond man,
That can forget his excellence and honor,
His serious meditations, being the end
Of his creation, to learn well to die;
And live a prisoner to a woman's eye.
Lord Cardinal. Increase of health and a redoubled
To chastity's great soldier: what, so sad, Madam?
The memory of her seven years deceas'd Lord
Springs yet into her eyes, as fresh and full
As at the seventh hour after his departure.
What a perpetual fountain is her virtue !
Too much to afflict yourself with ancient sorrow
Is not so strictly for your strength required:
Your vow is charge enough, believe me 'tis, Madam ;
You need no weightier task.
You heard the last words of my dying Lord.
Lord Card. Which I shall ne'er forget.
Duch. May I entreat
Your goodness but to speak 'em over to me,
As near as memory can befriend your utterance:
That I may think awhile I stand in presence
Of my departing Husband.
Lord Card. What's your meaning
In this, most virtuous Madam?
Duch. 'Tis a courtesy
I stand in need of, Sir, at this time especially;
Urge it no farther yet: as it proves to me,
You shall hear from me; only I desire it
Effectually from you, Sir, that's my request.
Lord Card. I wonder; yet I'll spare to question farther;
You shall have your desire.
Duch. I thank you, Sir:
A blessing come along with it.
Lord Card. [repeats] "You see, my Lords, what all earth's glory is,
"Rightly defined in me, uncertain breath:
"A dream of threescore years to the long sleeper, "To most not half the time. Beware ambition; "Heaven is not reach'd with pride, but with submission. "And you Lord Cardinal labor to perfect
"Good purposes begun, be what you seem,
"Stedfast and uncorrupt, your actions noble,
"Your goodness simple, without gain or art;
"And not in vesture holier than in heart.
"But 'tis a pain more than the pangs of death
"To think that we must part, fellows of life. —
"Thou richness of my joys, kind and dear Princess,
"Death had no sting, but for our separation;
""Twould come more calm than an evening's peace,
"That brings on rest to labours: Thou art so precious,
"I should depart in everlasting envy
"Unto the man, that ever should enjoy thee.
"Oh a new torment strikes his force into me,
"When I but think on't, I am rack'd and torn
"(Pity me) in thy virtues."
Duch. "My lov'd Lord,
"Let your confirm'd opinion of my life,
My love, my faithful love, seal an assurance "Of quiet to your spirit, that no forgetfulness "Can cast a sleep so deadly on my senses,
"To draw my affections to a second liking."
Lord Card. "It has ever been the promise, and the
"Of my great love to thee. For, once to marry
"Is honorable in woman, and her ignorance
"Stands for a virtue, coming new and fresh;
"But second marriage shews desires in flesh;
“Thence lust, and heat, and common custom grows :
"But she's part virgin, who but one man knows.
"I here expect a work of thy great faith:
"At my last parting I can crave no more;
"And with thy vow, I rest myself for ever;
My soul and it shall fly to heaven together:
"Seal to my spirit that quiet satisfaction,
"And I go hence in peace."
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