Bend. Good omen, sir; I wish you in that heaven
Your dream portends you,—
Which presages death.[Aside.
Emp. Thou too wert there;
387 And thou, methought, didst push me from below,
With thy full force, to Paradise.
Bend. Yet better.
Emp. Ha! what's that grizly fellow, that attends thee?
Bend. Why ask you, sir?
Emp. For he was in my dream,
And helped to heave me up.
Bend. With prayers and wishes;
For I dare swear him honest.
Emp. That may be;
But yet he looks damnation.
Bend. You forget
The face would please you better. Do you love,
And can you thus forbear?
Emp. I'll head my people,
Then think of dalliance when the danger's o'er.
My warlike spirits work now another way,
And my soul's tuned to trumpets.