Mount. I cry you mercy: I am so transported
(Your pardon, noble Brothers) with a business
That doth concern all Malta, that I am
(Anon you'l hear't) almost blind, and deaf.
Lust neither sees nor hears ought but it self:
But I will follow instantly: your cross.
Ast. Not mine. [dropt.
Cast. Nor mine, 'tis yours.
Ast. Cast. Good morrow Brother. [Exeunt.
Mount. White innocent sign, thou do'st abhor to dwell,
So near the dim thoughts of this troubled breast,
[And grace these graceless projects of my heart.]
Enter Zanthia, alias Abdella, with two Letters.
Yet I must wear thee to protect my crimes,
If not for conscience, for hypocrisie,
Some Churchmen so wear Cassocks: Oh my Zan.
My Pearl, that scornes a stain! I mu[ch] repent
All my neglect: let me Ixion like,
Embrace my black cloud, since my Juno is
So wrathful, and averse; thou art more soft
And full of dalliance than the fairest flesh,
And far more loving.
Zan. I, you say so now,
But like a property, when I have serv'd
Your turns, you'll cast me off, or hang me up
For a sign, somewhere.
Mount. May my life then forsake me
Or from my expected bliss, be cast to hell.
Zan. My tongue Sir, cannot lisp to meet you so,
Nor my black cheeck put on a feigned blush,
To make me seem more modest than I am.
This ground-work, will not bear adulterate red,
Nor artificial white, to cozen love.
These dark locks, are not purchas'd, nor these teeth,
For every night, they are my bed-fellows;
No bath, no blanching water; smoothing oyles,
Doth mend me up; and yet Mountferrat, know,
I am as full of pleasure in the touch
As ere a white fac'd puppet of 'em all,
Juicy, and firm, unfledge 'em of their tyres,
Their wires, their partlets; pins, and Periwigs,
And they appear like bald cootes, in the nest;
I can as blithly work in my loves bed,
And deck thy fair neck, with these Jetty chains,
Sing thee asleep, being wearied, and refresh'd,
With the same organ, steal sleep off again.