 | Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt |  |
Scæ.a 6a.
Enter Leidenberch, & Boy.Boy.
Shall I help you to bed Sr?
Leid
no my Boy, not yet.
Boy.
'tis late, and I grow sleepie.
Leid
goe to bed then,
for I must wryte, my Childe
Boy.
I had rather watch Sir,
if you sitt vp: for I know you will wake me.
Leid
indeed I will not: goe, I haue much to doe:
prethee to bed: I will not waken thee.
Boy.
pray Sir, leave wryting, till to morrow.
Leid
why Boy?
Boy.
you slept but ill last night: and talkd in yor sleep too
tvmbled, and tooke no rest.
Leid
I ever do soe:
good Boy to bed: my busines is of waight
and must not be defered: good night, sweet Boy.
Boy.
my Father was not wont to be so kind.
to hug me, and to kisse me soe.
Leid.
why do'st thou weep?
Boy.
I cannot tell: But such a tendernes
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or what it is, has crept about my hart, Sir,
and such a sodaine heavynes withall too,
Leid
thou bringst fitt mourners for my Funerall.
Boy.
but why do you weep, Father?
Leid.
ô my Boy
thy teares are dew-drops: sweet as those on roses,
but mine the faint, and yron sweatt of sorrow:
prethee, sweet Child to bed: good rest dwell with thee
and heaven [reserue] returne a blessing: that's my good boy
—Ext Boy.
thy teares are dew-drops: sweet as those on roses,
but mine the faint, and yron sweatt of sorrow:
prethee, sweet Child to bed: good rest dwell with thee
and heaven [reserue] returne a blessing: that's my good boy
How nature rises now, and turnes me woman?
when most I should be man? Sweet hart farwell,
farwell for ever: when we get vs Children
we then doe give or freedoms vp to Fortune,
and loose that native courage we are borne to;
to dye were nothing: simply to leave the light,
no more then going to or beds, and sleeping:
but to leave all these dearnesses behind vs,
these figures of or selues, that we call blessings
is that wc h trobles: Can man beget a thing
that shalbe deerer then himself vnto him?
tush, Leidenberch thinck what thou art to doe:
not to play Niobe, weeping ore hir Children,
[Son abed]
when most I should be man? Sweet hart farwell,
farwell for ever: when we get vs Children
we then doe give or freedoms vp to Fortune,
and loose that native courage we are borne to;
to dye were nothing: simply to leave the light,
no more then going to or beds, and sleeping:
but to leave all these dearnesses behind vs,
these figures of or selues, that we call blessings
is that wc h trobles: Can man beget a thing
that shalbe deerer then himself vnto him?
tush, Leidenberch thinck what thou art to doe:
not to play Niobe, weeping ore hir Children,
vnles that Barnauelt appeere againe
and chide thy dull-cold nature: He is fast:
Sleepe on sweet Child. the whilst thy wreatched Father
prepares him to the yron sleepe of death:
Or is death fabled out, but tirrable
to fright vs from it: or rather is there not
some hid hesperides, some blessed fruites
moated about with death? Thou soule of Cato,
and you brave Romaine speritts, famous more
for yor true resolutions on Yor selues,
then Conquest of the world: behold, and see me
an old man, and a gowne man, with as much hast
and gladnes entertaine this steele, that meetes me,
as ever longing lover, did his Mistris
So, so: yet further: soe.
and chide thy dull-cold nature: He is fast:
Sleepe on sweet Child. the whilst thy wreatched Father
prepares him to the yron sleepe of death:
Or is death fabled out, but tirrable
to fright vs from it: or rather is there not
some hid hesperides, some blessed fruites
moated about with death? Thou soule of Cato,
and you brave Romaine speritts, famous more
for yor true resolutions on Yor selues,
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an old man, and a gowne man, with as much hast
and gladnes entertaine this steele, that meetes me,
as ever longing lover, did his Mistris
So, so: yet further: soe.
Boy
wt hin
oh.
Leid
sure the Boy wakes.
and I shalbe prevented.
Boy.
now heaven blesse me:
ô me: ô me.
Leid
he dreames: and starts with frightings:
I bleed a pace, but cannot fall: 'tis here
this will make wider roome: Sleep gentle Child
and do not looke vpon thy bloody Father,
nor more remember him, then fitts thy fortune:
Now shoot yor spightes: now clap on all yor councells,
here is a constant Frend will not betray me:
I now I faint: mine eies begin to hunt
for that they haue lost for ever: this worlds beutie
ô, oh, ô oh: my long sleepe now h'as ceizd me.
—Enter Boy
Boy.
I heard him groane, and cry: I heard him fall sure
ô there he lyes, in his owne blood: ô Father
ô my deere Father: dead, and bequeathd no blessing:
why did I goe to bed? why was I heavy?
ô I will neuer sleep againe: the house there:
you that are curteous, rise: you that haue Fathers.
ho: Master Prouost: ô my deerest Father
—Enter Prouost & Serut s.
some Surgeons, Surgeons:
Pro.
'twas the Boyes voice, certaine
Ser.
what bloody sight is this? h'as killd himself:
dead: stone cold dead: he needs no art of Surgeons.
Pro.
take of the Boy
Boy.
ô let me dwell here ever.
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for my remissnes, wilbe loaden with it:
bring in the Body: ile to the State instantly:
examine all the wounds, and keep the knives,
the Boy fast too: may be he knowes some circumstaunce
Boy.
ô that I neuer knew againe.
Pro.
in with it.
—Exeunt/
| Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt | |