of Issachar. You
make asses of us, to bear your burthens. When we are young, you put
panniers upon us with your church-discipline; and when we are grown
up, you load us with a wife: after that, you procure for other men,
and then you load our wives too. A fine phrase you have amongst you to
draw us into marriage, you call it--_settling of a man;_ just as when
a fellow has got a sound knock upon the head, they say--_he's
settled:_ Marriage is a settling-blow indeed. They say every thing in
the world is good for something; as a toad, to suck up the venom of
the earth; but I never knew what a friar was good for, till your
pimping shewed me.

_Dom._ Thou shalt answer for this, thou slanderer; thy offences be
upon thy head.

_Gom._ I believe there are some offences there of your planting.
[_Exit_ DOM.] Lord, Lord, that men should have sense enough to set
snares in their warrens to catch polecats and foxes, and yet--
Want wit a priest-trap at their door to lay,
For holy vermin that in houses prey. [_Exit_ GOM.

SCENE III.--_A Bed Chamber._

LEONORA, _and_ TERESA.

_Ter._ You are not what you were, since yesterday;
Your food forsakes you, and your needful rest;
You pine, you languish, love to be alone;
Think much, speak little, and, in speaking, sigh:
When you see Torrismond, you are unquiet;
But, when you see him not, you are in pain.

_Leo._ O let them never love, who never tried!
They brought a paper to me to be signed;
Thinking on him, I quite forgot my name,
And writ, for Leonora, Torrismond.
I went to bed, and to myself I thought
That I would think on Torrismond no more;
Then shut my eyes, but could not shut out him.
I turned, and tried each corner of my bed,
To find if sleep were there, but sleep was lost.
Fev'rish, for want of rest, I rose, and walked,
And, by the moon-shine, to the windows went;
There, thinking to exclude him from my thoughts,
I cast my eyes upon the neighbouring fields,
And, ere I was aware, sighed to myself,--
There fought my Torrismond.

_Ter._ What hinders you to take the man you love?
The people will be glad, the soldiers shout,
And Bertran, though repining, will be awed.

_Leo._ I fear to try new love,
As boys to venture on the unknown ice,
That crackles underneath them while they slide.
Oh, how shall I describe this growing ill!
Betwixt my doubt and love, methinks I stand
Altering, like one that waits an ague fit;
And yet, would this were all!