Fragmenta aurea A collection of all the incomparable peeces, written by Sir John Suckling. And published by a friend to perpetuate his memory. Printed by his owne copies.
Suckling, John, Sir, 1609-1642.
ACT II.
Enter Sabrina, Orsabrin.
Sab.
OH welcome, welcome, as open aire to prisoners,
I have had such feares for you.
Or.
Shees warme, and soft as lovers language:
Shee spoke too, pretilie;
Now have I forgot all the danger I was in.—
Sab.
What have you done to day (my better part)
Or.
Kind little Rogue!
I could say the finest things to her mee thinks,
But then shee would discover me,
The best way will be to fall too quietly.—
(kisses her)
Sab.
How now my Samorat,
What saucy heat hath stolne into thy bloud,
And heightned thee to this?
I feare you are not well.—
Or.
S'foot! 'tis a Platonique:
Now cannot I so much as talke that way neither.
Sab.
Why are you silent, Sir?
Come I know you have been in the field to day.
Or.
How does shee know that?—
Sab.
If you have kill'd my brother, speake:
It is no new thing that true Love
Should be unfortunate:
Or.
'Twas her brother I kill'd then,
Page 16
Would I were with my Devils agen:
I got well of them,
That will be here impossible.—
Enter Phemillia.
Phe.
Oh! Madam, Madam,
Y'are undone;
The garden walls are scal'd,
A floud of people are entring th'house.
Or.
Good—why here's varietie of ruine yet.—
Sab.
'Tis so,
The Feet of Justice
Like to those of time,
Move quick,
And will destroy I feare as sure:
Oh Sir, what will you do,
There is no ventring forrh,
My Closet is the safest,
Enter there,
While I goe down and meet their fu•ie
Hinder the search if possible.—
Exit.
Or.
Her Closet,
Yea where's that?
And, if I could find it,
What should I do there?
Shee will returne,—
I will venture out.—
Exit.
Enter the Prince, Philatell Phontrell, Companie, Musique.
Phi.
The lightest aires; 'twill make them
More secure,—
Upon my life hee'le visite her to night.—
Musick plaies and sings.
Prince.
Nor shee, nor any lesser light
Appeares,—
The calme and silence 'bout the place,
Perswardes me shee does sleep.
Phi.
It may be not, but hold,
Page 17
It is enough,—let us retire
Behind this Pillar, Phontrell, is thy place,
As thou didst love thy Master shew thy care,
You to th'other Gate,
There's thy Ladder.—
Exeunt.
Enter Sabrina.
Sab.
Come forth my Samorat, come forth,
Our feares were false,
It was the Prince with Musicke,
Samorat, Samorat.,
He sleepes,—Samorat,
Or else hee's gon to find me out
I'th Gallery, Samorat, Samorat, it must be so.—
Exit.
Enter Orsabrin.
Ors.
This house is full of Thresholds,
And Trap-doores,
I have been i'th Cellar,
Where the Maids lie too,
I laid my hand groping for my way
Upon one of them,
And shee began to squeake,
Would I were at Sea agen i'th storme,
Oh! a doore:
Though the Devill were the Porter,
And kept the Gate, I'de out.—
Enter Samorat
Or.
Ha! guarded? taken in a trap?
Nay, I will out,
And there's no other
But this.—
(Retires and d•a•es, runs at him Another p•sse they close.
Sam.
Philatell in ambush on my life-
Enter Sabrina, and Phemillia with a light
Sab.
Where should he be?
Ha!—
Good Heavens what spectacle is this? my Samorat!
Some apparition sure,—
(They discover one another •y the light, throw away their weapons, and e•b•ace.
Sab.
(My wonder does grow higher)
Or.
That which governes ever:
I seldome knew it better.
Sam.
It does amaze me Sir, to find you here.
How entred you this place?
Or.
Forc't by unruly men it'h street.
Sab.
Now the mistake is plaine.
Or.
Are you not hurt?
Sab.
No,—but you bleed?
Or.
I do indeed,
But 'tis not here,
This is a scratch,
It is within to see this beauty;
For by all circumstance, it was her brother,
Whom my unlucky Sword found out to day.
Sab.
Oh! my too cruell fancy.—
(Weepes)
Sam.
It was indeed thy Sword,
But not thy fault,
I am the cause of all these ills.
Why d'you weep Sabrina!—
Sab.
Unkind unto thy selfe, and me,
The tempest, this sad newes has rais'd within me
I would have laid with Sheares,
But thou disturb'st me,
Oh! Samorat.
Had'st thou consulted but with love as much
As honour, this had never been.
Sam.
I have no love for thee that has not had
So strict an union with honour still,
That in all things they were concern'd alike,
And if there could be a division made,
It would be found
Honour had here the leaner share:
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'Twas love that told me 'twas unfit
That you should love a Coward.
Sab.
These handsome words are now
As if one bound up wounds with silke,
Or with fine knots,
Which do not helpe the cure,
Or make it heale the sooner:
Oh! Samorat this accident
Lies on our love,
Like to some foule disease,
Which though it kill it not,
Yet wil't destroy the beauty;
Disfigur't so,
That't will looke ugly to th' world hereafter.—
Sam.
Must then the Acts of Fate be crimes of men?
And shall a death he pul'd upon himselfe,
Be laid on others?
Remember Sweet, how often
You have said it in the face of Heaven,
That 'twas no love,
Which length of time, or cruelty of chance,
Could lessen, or remove,
Oh kill me not that way Sabrina,
This is the nobler;
Take it, and give it entrance any where—
Kneeles and pre∣sents his Sword.
But here,
For you so fill that plaee,
That you must wound your selfe.—
Or.
Am I so slight a thing?
So bankerupt?
So unanswerable in this world?
That being principally i'th debt,
Another must be cal'd upon,
And I not once look't after?
Madam why d'you throw away your Teares]
On one that's irrecoverable?
Ors.
But why on him?
He did not make him so.
Sab
I do confesse my anger is unjust,
But not my sorow Sir,
Forgive these tear•• my Samorat,
The debts of nature must be paid,
Though from the stocke of love:
Should they not Sir?
Sam.
Yes.—
But thus the precious minutes passe,
And time, e're I have breath'd the sighs,
Due to our parting,
Will be calling for me.
Sab.
Parting?—
Sam.
Oh yes Sabrina, I must part,
As day does from the world,
Not to returne till night be gone,
Till this darke Cloud be over,
Here to be found,
Were foolishly to make a present
Of my life unto mine enemy,
Retire into thy Chamber faire,
There thou shalt know all.—
Sab.
I know too much already.—
Exeunt.
Enter Phontrell.
Hold rope for me, and then hold rope for him.
Why, this is the wisdome of the Law now,
A Prince looses a subject, and does not
Think himselfe paid for the loss•,
Till he looses another:
Well I will do my endeavour
To make him a saver;
•or this was Samorat..—
Exit.
Enter Samorat, Orsabrin bleeding.
Sam.
Now by the friendship that I owe thee,
And the Gods beside, I will
Noble youth, were there no danger in thy wound,
Yet would the losse of bloud make thee
Unfit for travell,
My servants waite me for direction,
With them my Surgeon, I'le bring him instantly,
Pray go back.—
Exit.
Enter Philatell, Guard.
Phil.
There.—
(places them at the door•.
You to the other Gate,
The rest follow me.—
Ex.
Enter Orsabrin, Sabrina.
Sab.
Hearke a noise Sir.
This tread's too loud to be my Samorats.
Searchers.
(Which way?—which way)—
(to them.
Some villany in hand,
Step in here Sir, quick, quick.—
Locks him into her Closet.
Enter Philatell, Guard, and passe ore the Stage.
Phi
Looke every where.—
(Philatell dragging out his Sister.
Protect thy brothers murderer?
Tell me where thou hast hid him,
Or by my fathers ashes I will search
In every veine thou hast about thee, for him.—
(O•sab•in •ounces thri•e •t the doore, it •l••s op••.
Enter Orsabrin.
Or.
Ere such a villany should be
The Gods would lend unto a single arme
Such strength, it should have power to punish
An Armie, such as thou art.—
Phi.
Oh! are you here Sir?—
Or.
Yes I am here Sir.—
(sight)
Phil.
Kill her.—
(Shee interpos'd
Or.
Oh! save thy selfe faire excellence,
And leave me to my Fate.—
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Base▪—
Comes behind him, ••t•hes bold of his Armes.
Phi.
So bring him one,
The other is not far,—
Exeunt.
Enter Sabrina, Phemilia.
Sab Run, run, Phemillia
To the Garden walls,
And meet my Samorat,
Tell him, oh tell him any thing,
Charge him by all our loves
He instantly take Horse,
And put to Sea,
There is more safety in a storme,
Then where my brother is.—
Exeunt.
