 | The Floating Island |  |
Scena I.
The Scene turnes to the house of Despair. A Table there laid.Enter Desperato.
Desp.
Grow blacker yet my thoughts, grow blacker yet:
Your Plummets have not fadom'd the full depth
Of Passions misery. I have invited them;
But I must chang their Cheere; and make it stronger
Then food and bare discourse. I onely live
For others death, and then I'le fill the heap
With mine own ruine: rather with mine ease:
For now the Passions flow like shoales of Fish
Into my net; they sue to me for Counsel;
Ev'n to me; whose joy is in their death.
Just so the fearful Deere persu'd with dogs,
Flies to the keepers lodg, a surer Fate.
To poyson is dull art; my selfe am sorry
For doing ill so poorly; my design
Is now more glorious; for I'le make them act
Their death upon themselves, and thank me for't
Amidst their groanings. There have been with me
Fancie herselfe, distracted for her Liveby;
Irato, Audax for massacring him;
Sir Timerous and Fuga for impatience
Of their abuse. Unlesse Recorder Memor
Skil'd in the Law, have wayes to scape my Noose,
I doubt of none. I've bid them to a Feast;
But such a one, as Tantalus would shun;
Where I shall feed on all the guests that come.
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