 | The Soddered Citizen |  |
Scæna [Decima] Nona
Enter Dr. Makewell, & Modestina in a plaine Wastcoate,Doctor:
Where [you] haue you beene faire Virgine? that my search
Which hath beene full of subtle dilligence?
Could not recover you?, till nowe y'are come.
A voluntary, and sadd visitant,.
To looke vppon the ruines of your Servant,?
Mod:
I'ue mingled with the walkinge rowte, that wander
A sadd vnmynded people, such as are
Lead vpp, & downe, they knowe not, care not, whether,
By ffate; not cruell, rather courteous,
To bringe them to a knowledge of themselues,
And others warne, but fruiteles is the yssue,
I hid mee not, misshapinge povertie,
Kept mee vnknowne,
Doctor.
Whoe superficially,
ffor secundary Causes loues, those gone,
Th'affection nimbly followes, but Sr. Wittworth
Propoundinge your pure virtue, as his obiect,
Beheald you, as incapable of change;
Soe is a pretious Iem of equall glory
Vnto a knoweinge man, though the base foyle
(Which prompts the ignorant eye) bee tane awaye;
Mod:
Of this I had faire tryall.,
Doctor:
Then your scorne,
Or terme it gently, your vngentlenes,
Your absence, and refusall, haue soe wrought,
69
A desperate man, or rather void of sence,
Hee's his owne livinge Monument,
Mod:
Good Sr.
Improperly you Consture mee vnkinde,
My love in equall ballance plac'd with his,
A faire proportion held, but had wee mingled,
The knowledge of mine owne vnworthynesse,
Had cau[']s'd a sadnes, wc h in mee, had wrought
Like desperate effects, soe had I beene
A sad continuinge discontent, noe comforte,
70
This Melancholy, which distempers him,
Beinge but a fleame, might easily be purg'd,
And healthfull strength take place,
Doctor.
Alas: his braine
The seate of reason, misaffected, vents
A false, Corrupt, and violent conceite,
Hee knowes not that hee lives, his feeble sence
Remayninge (that scarce shewes it) is misled,
And soe imperiously, that hee belieues,
Hee dyed longe since, & when wee come about him,
To offer cure, or comforte, hee Cryes out
Can dead men eate? why d'ye torment mee thus?
Is there noe quiett in the graue, yee furyes?
Mod:
Haue you a President for this disease?
[Doctor.]
[Oh many, some haue had the like conceite]
[Some haue belieu'd they were huge Gyants growne]
[Some Beares, some Kings, a Vrinall all nose]
[Mod:]
[Is ye. disease incurable?]
[Doctor.]
[O Many;]
[Mod:]
[Is it cureable?]
Doctor.
It is not
The humour like a whirlewinde wantinge vent,
Choakes vpp the braine, & when the wilfull patient,
Refuseth meanes, to voyde it through the pores,
By force wee bore the suture of the braine,
With flaminge Irons leandinge open vent
Vnto those crucifyinge fumes;
Mod:
Oh mee.,
I fainte in his behalfe.,
Docter.
Reserue yor. spiritts,
It rests in you to cure an easier waye,
Harke in your eare,—
Mod:
I'me equally distracted,
Doctor.
Remember for whose sake,
Mod:
I am resolu'd!
Doctor.
Goe shifte you streight, cleane lynnen is prpar'd,
exit Mod:
Nowe if it takes, I shall togeather cure,
My ffriends disease, & this Girles peevishnes,
If the least seeds. of womanly compassion,
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Ioyne your propitious influence wt h my druggs;
exit.
| The Soddered Citizen | |