’Twas but a waking dream,
Wherein thou madest thy wishes speak, not her;
In which thy foolish hopes strive to prolong
A wretched being: so sickly children play
With health-loved toys, which for a time delay,
But do not cure the fit.
Rowley.
20.
Changing colour at sudden news.
Why look’st thou red, and pale, and both, and neither?—
Chapman.
21.
Rich Usurer to his Mistress.
I will not ’joy my treasure but in thee,
And in thy looks I’ll count it every hour;
And thy white arms shall be as bands to me,
Wherein are mighty lordships forfeited.—
Then triumph, Leon, richer in thy love.
Than all the hopes of treasure I possess.
Never was happy Leon rich before;
Nor ever was I covetous till now,
That I see gold so ’fined in thy hair.
Chapman.