Lingva : Or The Combat of the Tongue, And the fiue Senses For Superiority A pleasant Comoedie |
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| 11. | SCEN. 11. |
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 | Lingva : Or The Combat of the Tongue, And the fiue Senses For Superiority |  |
SCEN. 11.
Visvs. Somnvs.Vis.
Sage Telemus, I now too late admire,
Thy deepe fore-sight and skill in Prophecie,
Who whilome toldst me, that in time to come
Ulisses should depriue me of my sight.
And now the slaue that marcht in Outis name,
Is prou'd Vlisses, and by this deuice,
Hath scapt my hands, and fled away by Sea,
Leauing me desolate in eternall night.
Ah wretched Polypheme, where's all thy hope,
And longing for thy beautious Galatea?
Shee scornd thee once, but now she will detest,
And loath to looke vpon thy darkned face:
Aye me most miserable Polyphemus.
But as for Ulisses, heauen and earth
Send vengeance euer on thy damned head.
In iust reuenge of my great iniurie.
Somnus binds him.
Who is he that dares to touch me? Cyclops come?
Somnus charmes him, he sleepes.
Som.
There rest thy selfe and let thy quiet sleepe,
Restore thy weake immaginations.
| Lingva : Or The Combat of the Tongue, And the fiue Senses For Superiority | |