ACT IV., SCENE I.
A Street.
Enter ANSELM.
ANS. What frantic humour doth thus haunt my sense,
Striving to breed destruction in my spirit?
When I would sleep, the ghost of my sweet love
Appears unto me in an angel's shape:
When I'm awake, my fantasy presents,
As in a glass, the shadow of my love:
When I would speak, her name intrudes itself
Into the perfect echoes of my speech:
And though my thought beget some other word,
Yet will my tongue speak nothing but her name.
If I do meditate, it is on her;
If dream of her, or if discourse of her,
I think her ghost doth haunt me, as in times
Of former darkness old wives' tales report.
Enter FULLER.
Here comes my better genius, whose advice
Directs me still in all my actions.
How now, from whence come you?
FUL. Faith, from the street, in which, as I pass'd by,
I met the modest Mistress Arthur's corpse,
And after her as mourners, first her husband,
Next Justice Reason, then old Master Arthur,
Old Master Lusam, and young Lusam too,
With many other kinsfolks, neighbours, friends,
And others, that lament her funeral:
Her body is by this laid in the vault.
ANS. And in that vault my body I will lay!
I prythee, leave me: thither is my way.
FUL. I am sure you jest, you mean not as you say.
ANS. No, no, I'll but go to the church, and pray.