A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 3 by Various
page 245 of 479 (51%)
page 245 of 479 (51%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
Putt into acte to doe you anye servyce.
_Bus_. Thart a grosse flatterer, and knowe there is More sympathye betwixte mere contraryes Then twixte thy words and wishes. _Did_. Then your knowledge Has no true ryghte doone to it, beinge so greate To be so littill famed. I never hearde That you ere did or durst knowe any thynge But dynner tyme & coronatyon day, The tylters collours & theire pages suytts, But to theire Empresas[88] you styll gave up An Ignoramus. _Bus_. Th'art a parasytte; Thou & thy fortunes wayte uppon my father And like an evyll aungell make hym doe Those fearful thyngs I tremble to delyver. Therefore the love which thou protestest here Can be at best but fayn'd & beares more shewe Of treacherye then zeale. _Did_. How say you by that? _Orl_. _Ganelon's_ servant! Will it not suffyce The mallyce of my starres to presse me downe With a most pondrous wayghte of injuryes But they must keepe me wakinge with the syghte O' th'authors on't, to myxe my sufferings |
|