しまらいおんの日記

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06.THE CHRISTIAN LADY AND THE ANGEL

THE CHRISTIAN LADY AND THE ANGEL.
An Angel, in the guise of a Page, attends on Dorothea.

Dor. My book and taper.
Ang. Here, most holy mistress.
Dor. Thy voice sends forth such music, that I never
Was ravish'd with a more celestial sound.
Were every servant in the world like thee,
So full of goodness, angels would come down
To dwell with us : thy name is Angelo,
And like that name thou art. Get thee to rest;
Thy youth with too much watching is opprest.
Ang. No, my dear lady; I could weary stars,
And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes,
By my late watching, but to wait on you.
When at your prayers you kneel before the altar,
Methinks I'm singing with some quire in heaven,
So blest I hold me in your company;
Therefore, my most lov'd mistress, do not bid
Your boy, so serviceable, to get hence;
For then you break his heart.
Dor. Be nigh me still then.
In golden letters down I'll set that day
Which gave thee to me. Little did I hope
To meet such worlds of comfort in thyself,
This little, pretty body, when I, coming
Forth of the temple, heard my beggar-boy,
My sweet-faced, godly beggar-boy, crave an alms,
Which with glad hand I gave, with lucky hand!
And when I took thee home, my most chaste bosom
Methought was fill'd with no hot wanton fire,
But with a holy flame, mounting since higher,
On wings of cherubirns, than it did before.
Ang. Proud am I, that my lady's modest eye
So likes so poor a servant.
Dor. I have offer'd
Handfuls of gold but to behold thy parents.
I would leave kingdoms, were I queen of some,
To dwell with thy good father : for, the son
Bewitching me so deeply with his presence,
He that begot him must do it ten times more.
I pray thee, my sweet boy, show me thy parents ;
Be not asham'd.
Ang. I am not: I did never
Know who my mother was ; but by yon palace,
Fill'd with bright heavenly courts, I dare assure you,
And pawn these eyes upon it, and this hand,
My father is in heaven ; and, pretty mistress,
If your illustrious hour-glass spend his sand
No worse than yet it does, upon my life,
You and I both shall meet my father there,
And he shall bid you welcome !
Dor. O blessed day !
We all long to be there, but lose the way.
[Exeunt.

Dorothea is executed ; and the Angel visits THEOPHILUS, the Judge that condemned her.

Theoph. {alone). This Christian slut was well,
A pretty one ; but let such horror follow
The next I feed with torments, that when Rome
Shall hear it, her foundation at the sound
May feel an earthquake. How now? (Music.)
Ang. Are you amazed, sir ?
So great a Roman spirit, and doth it tremble ?
Theoph. How cam'st thou in ? to whom thy business ?
Ang. To you.
I had a mistress, late sent hence by you
Upon a bloody errand ; you entreated
That, when she came into that blessed garden
Whither she knew she went, and where, now happy,
She feeds upon all joy, she would send to you
Some of that garden fruit and flowers ; which here,
To have her promise sav'd, are brought by me.
Theoph. Cannot I see this garden ?
Ang. Yes, if the master
Will give you entrance.
[He vanishes.
Theoph. 'Tis a tempting fruit,
And the most bright-cheek'd child I ever view'd;
Sweet-smelling, goodly fruit. What flowers are these ?
In Dioclesian's gardens, the most beauteous
Compar'd with these are weeds : is it not February,
The second day she died ? frost, ice, and snow
Hang on the beard of winter ? where's the sun
That gilds this summer ? pretty, sweet boy, say,
In what country shall a man find this garden ?
My delicate boy, gone! vanish'd! within there,
Julianus! Geta!
Both. My lord.
Theoph. Are my gates shut ?
Geta. And guarded.
Theoph. Saw you not A boy?
Jul. Where?
Theoph. Here he enter'd, a young lad;
A thousand blessings daned upon his eyes;
A smooth-faed glorious thing, that brought this basket.
Geta. No, sir.
Theoph. Away ! but be in reach, if my voice calls you.

Decker.

05.FLIGHT OF WITCHES

FLIGHT OF WITCHES.

Scene, a Field. Enter Hecate, Stadlin, Hoppo, and other Witches
Firestone in the background.

Hec. The moon's a gallant; see how brisk she rides!
Stad. Here's a rich evening, Hecate.
Hec. Ay, is it not, wenches,
To take a journey of five thousand miles ?
Hec. O it will be precious!
Heard you the owl yet?
Stad. Briefly in the copse,
As we came through now.
Hec. 'Tis high time for us then.
Stad. There was a bat hung at my lips three times,
As we came through the woods, and drank her fill:
Old Puckle saw her.
Hec. You are fortunate still;
The very screech-owl lights upon your shoulder,
And woos you like a pigeon. Are you furnished?
Have you your ointments ?
Stad. All.
Hec. Prepare to flight then;
I'll overtake you swiftly.
Stad. Hie thee, Hecate;
We shall be up betimes.
Hec. I'll reach you quickly.
[Exeunt all the Witches except Hecate.
Fire. They are all going a-birding to-night: they talk of fowls in
the air that fly by day; I am sure they'll be a company of foul sluts
there to-night: if we have not mortality after it, I'll be hanged, for
they are able to putrefy it, to infect a whole region. She spies me
now.
Hec. What, Firestone, our sweet son?
Fire. A little sweeter than some of you, or a dunghill were too good for me.
[Aside.
Hec. How much hast here ?
Fire. Nineteen, and all brave plump ones, besides six lizards and three serpentine eggs.
Hec. Dear and sweet boy ! what herbs hast thou ?
Fire. I have some marmartin and mandragon.
Hec. Marmaritin and mandragora, thou wouldst say.
Fire. Here 's panax too, I thank thee, my pan aches I 'm sure, with kneeling down to cut 'em.
Hec. And selago,
Hedge-hysop too : how near he goes my cuttings !
Were they all cropt by moonlight?
Fire. Every blade of 'em,
Or I 'm a moon-calf, mother.
Hec. Hie thee home with them :
Look well to the house to-night; I 'm for aloft.
Fire. Aloft, quoth you ? I would you would break your neck
once, that I might have all quickly !
[Aside.]
Hark, hark, mother ! they are above the steeple already, flying over your head with a noise of musicians.
Hec. They're they indeed. Help, help me; I 'm too late elso.

SONG ABOVE.
Come away, come away,
Hecate, Hecate, come away.
Hec. I come, I come, I come, I come,
With all the speed I may.
Where's Stadlin?
[Voice above.] Here.
Hec. Where 's Puckle?
[Voice above.] Here.
And Hoppo too, and Hellwain too ;
We lack but yon, we lack but you;
Come away, make up the count.
Hec. I will but 'noint and then I mount.
[A spirit like a cat descends.
[Voice above.]
There's one comes down to fetch his dues,
A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood;
And why thou stayest so long, I muse,
Since the air's so sweet and good ?
Hec. O, art thou come ? what news, what news?
Spirit. All goes still to our delight.
Either come or else refuse.
Hec. Now I 'm furnished for the flight.
Fire. Hark, hark, the cat rings a brave treble in her own language!
Hec. [going up.] Now I go, now I fly,
Malkin my sweet spirit and I.
O what a dainty pleasure 'tis
To ride in the air
When the moon shines fair,
And sing and dance, and toy and kiss!
Over woods, high rocks, and mountains,
Over seas, our mistress' fountains;
Over steeples, towers, and turrets,
We fly by night, 'mongst troops of spirits:
No ring of bells to our ear sounds;
No howls of wolves, no yelps of hounds;
No, not the noise of water's breach.
Or cannon's throat our height can reach.
[Voice above.]
No ring of hells, &c.
Fire. Well, mother, I thank your kindness : you must be gambolling in the air, and leave me to walk here, like a fool and a mortal.

Middleton.

04.To this union The good of both the Church and Commonwealth Invite you

Hialas. To this union
The good of both the Church and Commonwealth
Invite you.
Durham. To this unity, a mystery
Of Providence points out a greater blessing
For both these nations, than our human wisdom
Can search into. King Henry hath a daughter,
The Princess Margaret. I need not urge, .

Ford's Perltin Warbeck.

03.What magic hath transform d me from myself

Donusa. What magic hath transformed me from myself?
Where is my virgin pride ? how have I lost
My boasted freedom! what new fire burns up
My scorch'd entrails!! what unknown desires
Invade, and take possession of my soul?

Massinger's Renegado.

02.There are of mad men, as there are of tame

There are of mad men, as there are of tame,
All humour'd not alike. "We have here some
So apish and fantastic, will play with a feather;
And though 't would grieve a soul to see God's image
So blemish'd and defaced, yet do they act
Such antic and such pretty lunacies,
That, spite of sorrow, they will make you smile.
Others again we have like hungry lions,
Fierce as wild bulls, untameable as flies.