 | The Soddered Citizen |  |
Scæna Secunda
Enter three of the Doctors servants rudely;1 Serv:
Charon,?
77
I come,
2 Serv:
On yon'd side Stix there doth attend thee Charon,
Some grand Magnifico, or ells some Iudge,
Newly deseas'd, I see by's synns, & Roabes,
Both of a scarlett die;
1 Serv:
Wee'le haue him plac'd,
As a red Letter in our Callender,
All. 3.
And this shalbe the Devills holy day;
(Iocondly—stepp aside all
«Ms»od:
See fellowe soule, the Devills are all gone,
[OMITTED] And busily imploy'd, they mynde not vs,
[OMITTED] Lett's eate wee may refreshe our selues,
78
Content,—
(he takes his Phisick)
You are a subtle soule,
Doctor.
Enough, a waye,
exit Mod:
2. Serv:
What hast thou tasted, thou[[illeg.]] audatious Soule,
Of theis forbidden Cates?
Witt:
Yes indeed Pugge.,
And are not you sweete negligent Devills, the whilst,
Doctor.
Nowe somethinge to delight him, that his sences,
May Covett rest, withall some little motion,
Would make his Phisicke worke, more naturally,
Play musicke, lett them enter,.
Softe musick, enter 7 Maskers all in Shrowdes, & tread a solemne measure with changes, the whilst Wittworth daunces an antick mockway, then retires to his chaire &
Witt:
I would there were noe worse Devills in Hell;
(sleepes
Doctor.
Nowe sleepe which only canst, to quiett charme,
The Cares of Kings, tame his vnruly sences;
exeunt omnes
| The Soddered Citizen | |