——— are like the visits of Franciscan friars,
They never come to prey upon us single.
Last Love strongest.
— as we love our youngest children best,
So the last fruit of our affection,
Wherever we bestow it, is most strong,
Most violent, most irresistible;
Since ’tis indeed our latest harvest home,
Last merryment ’fore winter; and we Widows,
As men report of our best picture-makers,
We love the Piece we are in hand with better.
Than all the excellent work we have done before.
Mother’s anger.
Leonora. Ha, my Son!
I’ll be a fury to him; like an Amazon lady,
I’d cut off this right pap that gave him suck,
To shoot him dead. I’ll no more tender him,
Than had a wolf stol’n to my teat in th’ night,
And robb’d me of my milk.
Distraction from guilt.
Leonora (sola). Ha, ha! What say you?
I do talk to somewhat methinks; it may be.
My Evil Genius.—Do not the bells ring?
I’ve a strange noise in my head. Oh, fly in
Come, age, and wither me into the malice
Of those that have been happy; let me have
One property for more than the devil of hell;
Let me envy the pleasure of youth heartily;
Let me in this life fear no kind of ill,
That have no good to hope for. Let me sink,
Where neither man nor memory may find me. (falls to the ground).
Confessor (entering). You are well employ’d, I hope; the best pillow in th’ world
For this your contemplation is the earth
And the best object, Heaven.
Leonora. I am whispering
To a dead friend——
Obstacles.
Let those, that would oppose this union,
Grow ne’er so subtle, and entangle themselves
In their own work, like spiders; while we two
Haste to our noble wishes; and presume,
The hindrance of it will breed more delight,—
As black copartaments shews gold more bright.
Falling out.