 | The Jealous Lovers |  |
SCEN. II.
Simo, Asotus, Ballio, Thrasimachus, Hyperbolus, Chærilus, Bomolochus.Sim.
Why is my boy so sad?—Tell me Asotus:
If dissolv'd gold will cure thee, melt a Treasure.
Asot.
O sad mischance!
Sim.
What grieves my hope—my joy.
My staff, my comfort?
Asot.
Wofull accident!
Sim.
Have I not barricadoed all my doores,
And stop't each chink and cranny in my house,
To keep out poverty and lean misfortune?
Where crept this sorrow in?
Asot.
Here, through my heart.
O father, I will tell you such a story
Of such a sad and lamentable nature,
'Twill crack your purse-strings.
Sim.
Ha? what story, boy?
My friend, my deare friend Tyndarus, Sir, is dead.
—And, to augment my sorrow,—kill'd himself.
And yet to adde more to my heap of griefs,
Left me and Ballio—his estate—
Sim.
Alas!
Is not this counterfeit sorrow well exprest?
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But I grieve truely that I grieve in jest:
Sim.
Half his estate to thee, and half to Ballio?
A thousand pities.—Gently rest his bones.
I cannot but weep with thee.
Ball.
Sir, you see
If you had left him nothing, my instructions
Can draw in patrimonies.
Sim.
He is rich
In nothing but a Tutour.—Good Asotus,
Though sorrow be a debt due to the herse
Of a dead friend, and we must wet the turf
Under whose roof he lodges: yet we must not
Be too immoderate.
Asot.
Beare me witnesse, heaven!
I us'd no force of Rhetorick, no perswasions
(What e're the wicked and malicious world
May rashly censure) to instigate these two
To their own deaths. I knew not of the plot,
All of you know that I am ignorant.
Phryn.
Where is my love? shall sorrow rivall me,
Enter Phryne.
And hang about thy neck? If grief be got
Into thy cheeks, I'le clap it out.—Deare chicken,
You sha'not be so sad, indeed you sha' not.
Be merry: by this kisse I'le make you merry.
Asot.
Then wipe my eyes.—Thus when the clouds are gone,
The day again is gilded by the sunne.
| The Jealous Lovers | |