Madrigal And Trulletta | ||
SCENE III.
Buckramo.Farewel!—till then farewel!—so hot, my friend?
So very hot?—no matter—let him cool—
He thinks my reason a meer babe, a suckling,
To need the leading-strings of his advice—
But to th' interment—if I should appear
In this unseemly dress, they'll think I come
To laugh and fleer at their solemnity.
Custom, that great, that venerable tyrant
On such occasions, asks, requires, demands
A coat—a coat!—alas!—I have no coat.
Oh insupportable!—oh heavy hour!
Methinks it now should be a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon, that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at the alteration of my dress—
Of all superfluous cloth necessity
Hath stripp'd me. My incarcerated coat
Lies in that infidel confinement, whence
No captive e'er returns unransom'd—how
To fetch the pris'ner thence puzzles the thought—
Lost in a labyrinth, I wander on
Without a clew to guide—O dark estate
29
With all his boasted intuition, is
More blind than reptile mole—Goosino's counsel
Must guide me thro' this maze.
In this, and the four following lines, our author hath imitated the complaint of Othello for the loss of his wife.
Madrigal And Trulletta | ||