University of Virginia Library

Scena 3.

Gripus. Hegio. Eccho.
Grip.
Lanch forth sad soule into an Ocean
Of teares, driven by the blustring gales of sighs,
To find the Haven, and seeke safe harbour out,
But stay a while, I thinke I'de neede provide
Some other Pylot for to steere and guid
Thy ballanc't bulk, besides sorrow, and griefe,
For these I feare will strike, and split o'th sands,
Wanting a Compas in their quavering hands.
How ere th' art like to leake, and sinck i'th waves,
Ith' raging Waves of sad despaire, if so
Thy sailes and tacklings thou to flames maist turn
Cast overboard thy hope, thy carkasse burne.
My grief's a boundlesse Sea that knowes no Shore.

Hegio.
O that I were a Basiliske that I
Might venome Daris, or unvenom'd dye.
To some tenebrious dungeon let us hie
Where never day shall be acquainted with us,
Where we'le remaine still in obscurity.
Cursing our fates, and never more behold
Sols radient and splendidious raies; and heare
The melancholly Owle Nictimine,
(The chiefest friend of solitarinesse)
The sullen Dogs, the immitating Apes,
Shall still converse with us, and such dumb things,
To whom nature denies use to sound our names,
Our grifes to blab, or fames to damnifie.

Eccho.
Fie,

Hegio.
We wish for death, we live without all hope,

Eccho.
Hope.

Gripus.
Hopes t'obtaine our loves their are none,

Eccho.
One.

Hegio.
'Tis bootlesse to try againe,

Eccho.
Try againe.

Gripus.
Say, shall we then obtaine reciprocall love?

Eccho.
Love.

Hegio.
Shall we assuredly
Upon a babling Eccho's voice rely?
Alas, he fondly prates, shall we beleev't?

Eccho.
Beleev't.

Gripus.
We will; and as thy tale prove true,
So will we credit Eccho's.

Eccho.
Credit Eccho.

Hegio.
Now as a well is hotter, when the ground
Weare Winters hoary mantle, then when as
Earth decking Flora doth invest the grasse
In Summers tapestry, and Junes parliament roabs
By an Antiperistasin, or by
The cirumambient ayres humidity,
Which in a manner doe besiege it round,
And make th' intrinsique heate unite, and so
Concentre to resist th' invading foe:
So let their coynesse set an edge on us,
And cuspidat our animosities.
Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito,
Yeeld not to ev'les, but 'gainst them stoutlier goe.

Exeunt.