 | Love's Labyrinth |  |
Scæn. 1.
Enter Menaphon, and Doron.Men:
How mad a thing is Love? It makes us lose
Our senses; whilest we wander in a maze
Of endless torments: sometime with his smiles
The cunning thief doth flatter us with hopes
And tantalize our expectations, when
Strait our winged joyes are gone, and we
Do wrack our selves with future coming fears:
A mistris frowns doth cloud our clearer skie.
17
1.
Fond love no more,Will I adore
Thy feigned Deity.
Go throw thy darts,
At simple hearts,
And prove thy victory.
2.
Whilst I do keepMy harmless sheep,
Love hath no power on me:
'Tis idle soules,
Which he controules,
The busie man is free.
Enter Doron.
Dor.
Ah Menaphon, my Sister Pesana, a pies
On her, I had almost forgot her name, with
Thinking on her business.
Men.
VVhy what's thy business, Doron? tell me, come.
Dor.
My business, 'tis none of my businesse, I tell you,
'Tis my sister Pesana's business.
Men.
VVell, what's her business then? I prethee tell.
Dor.
Ah Sir! she's sick.
Men.
VVhat is she sick of Doron? let me know.
Dor.
VVhy, truly Sir, she's sick of you.
Men.
She sick of me? why, am I a disease?
Dor.
I mean—I mean—she is sick for you.
Men.
That's kindly done of her, Doron, that she
Will be sick for me: I'll make her amends.
Dor.
Will you make her amend, said you? I am
Afraid you'l make her end first; but truly
18
Men.
Hast thou a suit for me? Is it a new one?
Dor.
I say I have a suit to you.
Men.
To me? well, and what is your suit made of?
Dor.
In good sooth, Sir, I must intreat you will
Love my sister as well as you have done.
Men.
No, Doron, love and I are faln out, and he
Will not let me love thy sister or thee either.
Dor.
Nor my sister, nor me neither. Out thou
Caterpiller, thou weasel, thou he dg-hog,
I will make you love me, and my sister too.
Men,
You are out of your suit now Doron, and
I fear you will catch cold, now you are hot.
Exeunt.
| Love's Labyrinth | |