Fulvius, Gabinus, gave me word last night, Cet. Yes! as you, had I not call'd you. Cet. If the gods had call'd Them to a purpose, they would just have come The kingdom of the senate rent asunder : And the degenerate talking gown run frighted Cat. Spirit of men, Thou heart of our great enterprise, how much I love these voices in thee ! Cet. O the days Of Sylla's sway, when the free sword took leave Cat. And was familiar With entrails, as our augurs Cet. Sons kill'd fathers, Brothers their brothers Cat. And had price and praise : All hate and license giv'n it; all rage reins. Cet. Slaughter bestrid the streets, and stretch'd himself To seem more huge: whilst to his stained thighs The gore he drew flow'd up, and carried down Whole heaps of limbs and bodies through his arch. No age was spar'd, no sex. Cat. Nay, no degree Cet. Not infants in the porch of life were free. Cat. 'Twas crime enough that they had lives. Was dull and poor. As some, the prey. Some fell, to make the number; Cet. The rugged Charon fainted, And ask'd a navy rather than a boat, To ferry over the sad world that came : Is to stand up in Rome. Lent. Nay, urge not that Is so uncertain. Cat. How! Lent. I mean, not clear'd; And therefore not to be reflected on. Cat. The Sybil's leaves uncertain! or the comments, Of our grave, deep, divining men, not clear! Lent. All prophecies, you know, suffer the torture. Cat. But this already hath confess'd, without; And so been weigh'd, examin'd, and compar'd, As 'twere malicious ignorance in him Would faint in the belief. Lent. Do you believe it? Cat. Do I love Lentulus, or pray to see it? Lent. They count from Cinna Cat. And Sylla next- -and so make you the third; Lent. Men mark me more of late as I come forth! Cet. But he, and we, and all, are idle still. It is not augury, nor the Sybil's books But Catiline, that makes it. Cat. I am a shadow To honor'd Lentulus, and Cethegus here THE NEW INN; OR, THE LIGHT HEART. A COMEDY. Lovel discovers to the Host of the New Inn, his Love for the Lady Frances, and his reasons for concealing his Passion from her. Lov. There is no life on earth, but being in love! No intercourse, or trade of sense, or soul, Stalk like a ghost that haunted 'bout a treasure ; Host. But is your name Love-ill, sir, or Love-well? Lov. I do not know it myself, Whether it is. But it is love hath been Host. How then? Lov. I have sent her toys, verses, and anagrams, But knew not whence they came, nor could she guess. And look'd upon her a whole day, admir'd her, Loved her, and did not tell her so, loved still, Look'd still, and loved; and loved, and look'd, and sigh'd; But, as a man neglected, I came off, And unregarded. Host. Could you blame her, sir, When you were silent and not said a word? Lov. O but I loved the more; and she might read it Best in my silence, had she been Host. as melancholic, As you are. Pray you, why would you stand mute, sir? Lov. O thereon hangs a history, mine host. Did you ever know or hear of the Lord Beaufort, Who serv'd so bravely in France? I was his page, And, ere he died, his friend! I follow'd him First in the wars, and in the time of peace Abortives of the fabulous dark cloister, Bearing his aged parent on his shoulders, Rapt from the flames of Troy, with his young son. And press the liberality of heaven Down to the laps of thankful men! But then, Was above all, and left so strong a tye The care of his brave heir and only son! Who being a virtuous, sweet, young, hopeful lord, And debt profess'd, I have made a self-decree, Ne'er to express my person though my passion Burn me to cinders. Lovel in the presence of the Lady Frances, the young Lord Beaufort, and other Guests of the New Inn, defines what Love is. Lov. What else Is love, but the most noble, pure affection |