HUMIL

What are the waits of London come? Play in their highest key then. Make the Gods dance cause Joniall mirth Music in heaven for this earth's marriage Is a triumphant concord to us all, To me 'tis seal worser by promise for his daughter, Who in our blood shall sympathise, says I, She shall be ours, bedded, although some Mennace a rivalship, yet the sure carded Gives the trick ours, and we shall win, Since in my mother it does first begin. I and a good one friend. Good reach at stars, y'faith 'tis true. A knight of More-clack to a London widow. I snatch but that which promise says is mine, Have I offended? Right what is wrong. I repent not what is done, come you with me. Yes, whereunto? sith all my Hope's lie level With despair, such milksops in whose breasts, Lingers a lagging hope, to the ̄ is patience sufferable; But to me, horror, and hels black motions tickles Me on to mischiese, and I will— I madame of Twitnam, I have seen him lick out burning fire brands with's tongue, drink two pense from the bottom of a full pottle of ale, fight with a Masty, & stroke his moustaches with his bloody bit ̄ fist, and sing as merrily as the sobrest Querester. Oh I am slain with wonder. Hath this life left in it a little breath, To blow out treason, reek ye clouds of shame, Putrify all imagination, hold her at stern, There let her sink, never to win again, Homers recovery, shall I say and think it? Oh— Have I not been in bed to night, and so Talk idly wanting sleep, or rose from rest, As many troubled do, acting Like life, Awaking dead, for in that flattering fear, Perchance her reputation may be saved. No I am certain in my fear, 'tis true, In yond black closet lies a wicked woman, (I will not say my mother, that names lost) In the twinned brazings of the slave her man. In James his arms, and shall I suffer it? Oh— To blab, it were to harould out my shame, In quartered scutcheon of black obloquy, To murder one were most imparciall; Again to turn hills on this sin, Would write me bawd, but to be nobly satisfied Is a content licenced from equity. The knight shall know it, I will write to him, Startle his bold imagination with pale fear, Rose his revengeful spirit on them both, And make me hopeful of his love neglected, Forgive me world, heavens justice puts me on, And though a son, I'll punish both or none. I am confounded in the search, please your justice be my torture, I have murdered innocence, sorrow is not the way, death is the least, I challenge cruelty and urge the ex actest point of peril, slave that I am to live. I will; this tongue that slandered, It is too much already, was I bewitched, That thus at hud-man blind I dallied With her I honoured? o you times how have you Nursed me, but no more, Humil hath branded on his Mother's name, and Aethyops blackness, and A spotted stain, forgive me that and all. Sir, if I do not, let me die. When I have poisoned her with this confection: Be you cloudy killed with sorrow, 'tis a skin, Will draw to purpose on the straitest glove, But then your promised reward. give order for the banquet, She die sir, if I live, I am a Apothecary. And can knead the past to purpose, she is gone Had she a thousand lives laid up in one. Oh you prophetic Fairies, how dally you, In concaues of our hearts, shamed at my error I thought for ever to be from your sighed, But thinking, truth was blinded, I forethought Some following business, thus I altered Coming as one disguised to save her life, Damed for that fact. You must be poisoned at this feast, 'Tis I must do the deed, o mother, How are you blessed in my return from travel, I that to light bring your offence, so thought, Must be the pardon at your judgement brought. Father be mindful, this presuming knight, Plays with the flame, burns in the candlelight, When we shall furnish to disfurnish him, Of what he yet enjoys. A good one to thy self, to us 'tis seasond, By this the blessing of the holy rights, Relishes in them, they are married, at least Fair for it, I must witness to't, farewell. Well said honest knaves, bear in, but say where John i'th hospital, and's nurse? 'Tis well, away, and Touch touch the tippes of their tongues, with our seller suckets. Married? 'tis ended, and the next pull mine. At a fair fleece, a golden one, the eldest daughter is my hope, what then rests in it, Oh you winged lap-wings, farthest cry, when we come nearest to't. Quando pecus omniam sub umbra ru minat antiquos paulilum vocitamus amores. Mother the noble guest expects you, The present meeting doos neglect it self Where our fair bride is wanting, Pray come in, you do them wrong. Will you be mindful of our marriage, mother? Begin so happily in yours. James, when I put thee from my thought, let me be hud winched from all, fortune, thy partaking gentleness is such, as I do love thee, troth I do. Wottedest what news? The lovers are expulst, and my fair Hope's shine the clearer: what wilt say when I do marry this Knights eldest daughter? She is mine contracted in her father's word. Would. 'Tis the devils office and not mine, to hell obedi ence, if he break his word. He loud me as a king in a play, his servant who were seeing him gives kind applause, but small utility: my father in my childhood loud and left me to the world's eye, in bold necessity, I thank him for it, since he died my mother hath her chance, mine wants the proof, stand by times minion and inconstancy, o. Indeed whats a tinker with out's wench, staff and dog. Hell and damnation. Oh not so fast sir, I am for your raze, and will out strip you, if you run no faster, speak what was this tincker? I, thy master. What for this counsellor, concealing rape and ruin of your child? No, isle to Richmond sir, prevent them there. Your pleasure sir. The bird that greets the dawning of the day, Signs with his wings, the midnights parture, And the sleety dew moistening the cheeks Of morrows welcome: gives earnest of the morn: Yet all secure, adulterate lust dos sleep, And I the hatched young of this trodden hen, Stands Centinel to her idolatry. Blow you swelled winds and crack the battlements, Rouse their incestuous luxury with fear Of whats to come, yet that were my mishap, No silent air fan on them bawdy breath. That as they reek in their licentious love, Devil may seal sure, and Morpheus so pleased, May to their pastime add affliction Delivered by the hand of him thats wronged, And stands indebted to his destiny: Yet are they as the hour, whose sandy minutes Runs out at pleasure till the perjod comes, Fast sleeping, and enjoy their quiet, Rouse the black mischief from thy ebben cell, Land in the bosoms of this twin in lust, Him whose heaped-wrong calls vengeance to be joust. Father. It is my love to you that makes me step Heart-deep in disobedience to my mother. Wretch that I am to think her so, It makes me desperate of priority, Before thinking my beginning to be base, Conceived in such mistrust and frailty, My front hath that impression still, Adding a blush to my distemperature, And I am crest-salne in sanguinity, Pray you believe me, would it were not so. Scarlet is scarlet, and her sin blood read, Will not be washed hence with a sea of water, Is this my hand, or is the fire fire? whose scorching heat dissolves rele ̄ ting mettle, When as it tries the substance; yes, and I Make known my mother is and alien, From my blood, so to fallen off, and perish Even in her pride of bliss, damned be the slave That so attempts her spotless chastity To ruin, I know that yet smooth look, Plotted, contrived, and won her with devise, She never knew a double character till now, But single singler she ever ruled, Even modesty her self, Vesta resigned to her, And virtue hand in hand at barleibreak, Ran the swift course, none but a hound of hell, Hunted this fawn of fortune to his kennel, But my mother, forgetting her degree, Dos captivate love, life and liberty, By one deeds practice, wicked, nay far worse, Fatal disgrace, honours created course. Would. Sir. Is it not so? With shame, devil of mischance whats this? Did I not see their cutted gilded look big? Was I in trance of my belief, would, was I? Can be no juggling in it: can there? Sir I am sorry. My mother's fast asleep, and I awake, am in a tran sive maze, unwitting how to make my peace with God her self and you. Not in bed. Fare you well, rather then be a witness of my wrong, I will not see my self in't, go thou worse then, I'll sacrifice to the devil, that tempted thee, all thy Distempered thoughts, cry mercy to her sects. To spotless innocence be free, say all thy treasons, Built on slippery ice, and thou art frozen cruelty, Sir, for your wrongs, if you remit black torture 'tis My hell, and I appeal to stern rigor, Oh you sonues, Whose true obedience shines in majesty. While mine more ugly then is Vulcan's tithye. Smells ranker then despised Hemlock Curse and ban him, I am your subject to't And every mother, whose snow innocence, Feels soft and tender, as the down on palm, Rate my rebellion with a blisseles name, And for my sake give misadventure aim. Guide them to me, say I am such a son, Through whom a mother is so soon undone, I want virtue in a mother, are you one? Wrong not yourself. You have. By me black fin? no by thy own neglect, made perfect by my true intelligence, and how ever cunning masqued and doned the vissard that so mussled me, I knew not who was in the bed. And holy ones. No, it a subtle strain, so hudwink't truth, I am a traitor if I did not see James your man fast in your arms. No more, much secrecy calls on us, Acquaint me with my father, plead my gilded. We shall with cunning so unfold this business, That our Hope's shall strengthen as they perish, No idle practice, but a serious toil, Must bring home conquest from this long wished spoil. Be quick, carry those sweet meats in, Bid them that in this business have to do, That they attend this rich confectionary, With no common care, the cost continued ̄ mands more love And duty, sir we are fitting to occasion, Would all your guests were come. For charity be swift. Place your plate, and pile your vitriall boales Nest upon nest, These for wines and bear, The other tend the call of altering diet, Sirrah, quoth he, we shall to I trow, And I affirm it true, my shape cast off dos answer sir in few. All happiness live in thy choice, in hers All mischiefs, horror, less our self participate in tender of our choice, freely delivered in the fight of heaven. The wedding dinner breathes his last. Sir, truth is truth, my conscience and religion Binds up in me, and since I do proclaim Detraction from my blood, by her misdeed, Give me leave to report a fly a fly, If it offend the virtue of mine eye. Have I, think you I am flack? Pushed on with hope of beauty and reward, She die had she a life more deer. Then the last spring, sole comfort of the year. But I will cover and prepare.