Are as fore-runners to ensuing pleasures. Can but avail your good Alb. O friend, no more; come, you are slow in haste. Till all her deeds be finish'd. Who, looking in a book, [Aside.-Exeunt. Albert, after the marriage of Carracus, siruck with remorse for the injury he has done to his friend, knocks at Carracus's door, but cannot summon resolution to see him, or to do more than inquire after his welfare. Alb. Conscience, thou horror unto wicked men, Who but a damnn'd one could have done like me 1 And then how constant she did still abide. I then at this would joy, as if my breast With my true friend, but now, when joy should be, In all which time I have not once beheld him. I'll call to know his health, but will not see him; I could not but reveal, and so pour on A Servant opens. Alb. Is the master of the house within ? [He knocks. Serv. Yes, marry, is he, sir: would you speak with him? Is he in health with his late espoused wife? Serv. Both are exceeding well, sir. Alb. I am truly glad on't: farewell, good friend. Serv. I pray you, let's crave your name, sir; I may elso have anger. Alb. You may say, ono Albert, riding by this way, only in. quired their health. Serv. I will acquaint so much. [Exit Servant. Alb. How like a poisonous doctor have I come To inquire their welfare, knowing that myself Have giv'n the potion of their ne'er-recovery ; For which I will afflict myself with torturo over. And since the earth yields not a remedy Able to salve the sores my lust hath made, I'll now take farewell of society, And the abode of men, to entertain a lifo Fitting my fellowship in desart woods, Where beasts like me consort; there may I live, My hateful lust: the trees shall shelter This wretched trunk of mine, upon whose barks And there this short breath of mortality I'll finish up in that repentant state, Where not the allurements of earth's vanities From practising the art of treachery. Thither then, steps, where such content abides, This heavy motto of my misery, Who but a damn'd one could have done like me ? THE TRAGEDY OF NERO. AUTHOR UNCERTAIN Scenical Personation. "Tis better in a play Be Agamemnon, than himself indeed. To hear our poets tell imagin'd fights THE MERRY DEVIL OF EDMONTON, AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. Millisent, the fair daughter of Clare, was betrothed, with the consent of her parents, to Raymond, son of Mounchensey; but the elder Mounchensey, being since fallen in his fortunes, Clare revokes his consent and plots a marriage for his daughter with the rich heir of Jerningham. Peter Fabel, a good magician, who had been Tutor to young Raymond Mounchensey at College, determines by the aid of his art to assist his pupil in obtaining fair Millisent. PETER FABEL, solus. Fub. Good old Mounchensey, is thy hap so ill, Have I so many melancholy nights Watch'd on the top of Peter House highest tower? For want of skill to lose the wench thou lovest ? It has been ascribed without much proof to Shakspeare, and to Michael Drayton. † Enfield. I'll drive the deer from Waltham in their walks, Enter RAYMOND MOUNCHENSEY, young JERNINGHAM, and Jern. I prithee, Raymond, leave these solemn dumps, As mirth herself. If aught in me may thy content procure, It is thy own, thou mayst thyself assure. Raym. Ha! Jerningham, if any but thyself It might have won the credit of mine ear, Jern. If I understand thee I am a villain : What! dost thou speak in parables to thy friend; Fab. (to Jern.) You are the man, sir, must have Millisent, The match is making in the garden now; Her jointure is agreed on, and the old men, Your fathers, mean to launch their pursy bags, But in mean time to thrust Mounchensey off, For color of this new intended match. Fair Millisent to Cheston* must be sent, To take the approbation of a Nun. Ne'er look upon me, lad, the match is done. Jern. Raymond Mounchensey, now I touch thy grief With the true feeling of a zealous friend. • Cheshunt. |