MASSINGER.
May I taste
The nectar of her lip? I do not give it
The praise it merits: antiquity is too poor
To help me with a simile to express her:
Let me drink often from this living spring,
To nourish new invention.
Emperor of the East.
Sforza. Can any act, though ne’er so loose, that may
Invite or heighten appetite, appear
Immodest or uncomely? Do not move me;
My passions to you are in extremes,
And know no bounds:—come, kiss me.
Marcelia. I obey you.
Sforza. By all the joys of love, she does salute me
As if I were her grandfather! What witch,
With cursèd spells, hath quenched the amorous heat
That lived upon these lips? Tell me, Marcelia,
And truly tell me, is’t a fault of mine
That hath begot this coldness?
Duke of Milan.
Francisco. [Preserving the dead body of Marcelia.]
Your ladyship looks pale;
But I, your doctor, have a ceruse for you.
See, my Eugenia, how many faces
That are adored in court, borrow these helps,
[Paints the cheeks.
And pass for excellence, when the better part
Of them are like to this. Your mouth smells sour, too,
But here is that shall take away the scent,
A precious antidote old ladies use
When they would kiss, knowing their gums are rotten.
[Paints the lips.
These hands, too, that disdained to take a touch
From any lip whose owner writ not lord,
Are now but as the coarsest earth.
Duke of Milan.
Lovell. If then you may be won to make me happy,
But join your lips to mine, and that shall be
A solemn contract.
Lady Allworthy. I were blind to my own good
Should I refuse it [kisses him]; yet, my lord, receive me
As such a one, the study of whose whole life
Shall know no other object but to please you.
New Way to Pay Old Debts.