Selected quad for the lemma: duty_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A62477
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The Thracian wonder a comical history as it hath been several times acted with great applause / written by John VVebster and VVilliam Rowley.
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Webster, John, 1580?-1625?; Rowley, William, 1585?-1642?
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1661
(1661)
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Wing T1078A; ESTC R20950
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38,225
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60
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your words which I unhappy wretch must undergo were every Lamb increast unto a Flock and every Flock to thousands multiplied I must not love you Ant. You must not Ariad. And worse I must for ever hate you if you name but Love agen I must ingrateful be for all the courtesies you have bestowed Love or the thought of it to me is like the Tallon of a soaring Hawk striking a silly Dove it murthers me Ant. So you are sensible of your own grief but no other pity I am wounded too but you feel it not Ariad. Where are you wounded sir Ant. Even at the heart I 'm wounded for thy Love Ariad. If I could see it bleed I should believ 't Ant. You would I thank you heartily for that Ariad. Sure sir I think you would not fear a wound cold and decaying nature has made you strike-free you have no blood to die with y' are now buried in your skins Sear-cloth and would you warm that monumental Robe at Loves fire in your grave Ant. Scorn'd and abused 't is long of Menalchus go with that hand preserved thee from the wrack of the devouring Billows that ravenous and merciless assembly of salt Drops that charitable hand that long hath been the tender Foster-father to thy wants with that hand now I turn thee off turn thou thy face no more to any house of mine I le burn them all e're they shall cover thee Thou wert my joy but this thy scornful spight Has made me hate where I took most delight Ariad. My sweet Eusanius It is his Loss makes me unfortunate that weighty grief Followed by mercies yet wert thou the chief Where e're thou art Fate in spight send me hither Tho in the arms of Death we meet together Ent. Titterus Sings I loved a Lass alas my folly was full of her coy disdaining I courted her thus what shall I sweet Dolly do for thy dear Loves obtaining At length I did dally so long with my Dolly that Dolly for all her faining Had got such a mountain above her valley that Dolly came home complaining Ariad. Oh misery misery which way should I turn from thee Tit. Ha there 's a foolish Lover upon my life a female heigho ifaith Alas poor heart why dost thou sit dejected pretty soul he is a hard hearted stubborn Clown I warrant him what e're he is but I hold him the wiser man for 't though will he not do filthy churl as he is poor heart would I had a heart could pity thee Ariad. What e're you are sir my miseries have not deserved your scorn I do beseech you leave me with my sorrows for I desire no other company Tit. Ha a good face ifaith a special good face fine Babies in her eyes those lips speak now methinks and say Come kiss me How now Titterus the singing Satyre against all women the Madrigal-maker against good faces Beauties Despiser are you in contemplation now I must not turn my tale sure from Shepherds Roundelays to Epithilamiums and Sonnets and Io's and Heighos this were odd if I should and yet by my troth I think I must for ought I can perceive that thievish god Cupid that useth to steal hearts affections and sighs out of mens bosoms is now crept into mine and spite of my proud heart makes me confess that Love 's a lovely Lad his bringing up is Beauty Who loves him not is mad for I must pay him duty now I 'm sad Hayl to those sweet eyes that shine celestial wonder From thence do flames arise burns my poor heart asunder now it fryes Ariad. Sir you are rustick and no generous spirit to make Calamity your merry Theam Beseech you leave me Tit. Cupid sets a Crown upon those lovely Tresses Oh spoil not with a frown what he so sweetly dresses I le sit down Ariad. You 'l force me then to rise and flie your folly Yet why should you have power to banish me From this free spreading Air that I may claim For mine as well as yours but 't is no matter Take this place to ye where e're you force me go I shall keep still my sad Companion Wo Tit. Nay then have at you in Prose if Meter be no Meter for you you must not leave me thus And as even till this hour I hated women and therefore must needs be the honester man I will not stay you for any ill by my hook and troth la And now do not I know what to say to her neither but you have a good Face white Neck a dainty Cheek soft Hand and I love you if my Nurse had ever taught me better language I could afford it you Ariad. That very word will feather my slow feet and make me flie from you I hate all love and am in love with nought but hate and scorn sorrows and griefs I am exposed to them turned from a Charity that fed me once to naked poverty thrust into the mouth of Fortunes battery to stand all malice that she can shoot at mortal Tit. What heart could be so cruel hand so ungentle Ariad. Old Antimon's till this hour courteous Now most unkinde and spiteful Tit. Why then has Love and Hate mistaken their Quivers to day He that was courteous to women is now turn'd unkinde and I that ever halted am struck most pitifully in love with 'em Here take all the store I have to defend thee from common necessities to feed and lodge I will be thus bountiful though I never have better of thee while I live and I am sorry I am no better furnisht if thou remainest in these fields I le lend thee enough to stock thee with a Flock and give thee day enough for payment too He that should have said I would a bin thus bountiful to day morning I would have said by this time he had bin a witch Fare thee well I have some strange meditations that I desire to be alone my self now some of 'em must out agen howsoever Whither shall I go to escape away from folly For now there 's love I know or else 't is melancholly heigh heigho Yonder lies the Snow but my heart cannot melt it Love shoots from his how and my poor heart hath felt it heigh heigho Exeunt severally Finis Actus secundus ACT. 3. SCENE 1. Enter Pheander with the two Lords from the Oracle Phe. WHat news from Delphos what says the Oracle Wherefore is Thrace thus pesterred with these plagues 1 Th. Lord My Liege we have performed your dread Command yet not command so much as our desire did make our tedious travels to seem short until we heard Apollo's ireful Doom but then Phe. What then nay quick go on I say we long to hear the Oracles Decree 1 Th. Lord Having pronounc't the gods were all displeased With woeful Thrace she said our sorrows spring Was caused by the Transgressions of our King Who 'gainst the Law of Equity and Right Had from his sight abandon'd Chastity But for the time when Plagues and Woes