Lady. What shall I doe? I can no longer beare
This flame so mortall; I have wearid heaven
With my entreaties and shed teares enough
To extinguish Aetna, but, like water cast
On coales, they ad unto my former heate
A more outragious fervor. I have tried
All modest meanes to give him notice of
My violent love, but he, more dull then earth,
Either conceives them not or else, possessd
With full affection of my daughter, scornes me.
Tho. Madam, wilt please you to deliver your pleasure?
Lady. Thorowgood,
Not clouds of lightning, or the raging bolt
Heavens anger darts at the offending world,
Can with such horrid rigor peirce the earth
As these sad words I must demonstrate to you
Doe my afflicted brest.—Ime lost; my tongue
When I would speake, like to an Isicle
Disturbd by motion of unruly winds
Shakes to pronounce't, yet freezes to my roofe
Faster by th'agitation.
Tho. Your full Judgment
Could not have found an apter instrument
For the performance of what you designe,
Then I experience how much any man
May become passive in obedience
To the intent of woman, in my truth.
Set the abstrusest comment on my faith
Imagination can resolve, my study
Shall mak't as easie as the plainest lines
Which hearty lovers write.
Enter Timothy.
Tim. Madam, this letter and his humble vowes From your deserving sonn.
Lady. He writes me here he will be here tomorrow. Where left you him?
Tim. At your right worthy Cosens.
Lady. What manner of man is this Mr. Thurston He brings with him?
Tim. A most accomplishd gentleman.