_Fra_. What? have I slept? some witchcraft did betray My eyes to so much darkenes; yet my dreame Was full of rapture, such as I with all My wakeing sence would flie to meet. Me thought I saw a thousand Cupids slide from heaven, And landing here made this their scene of revells, Clapping their golden feathers which kept tyme While their owne feet strook musike to their dance, As they had trod and touched so many Lutes. This done, within a Cloud formd like a Throne, She to whom love had consecrate this night, My Mistresse, did descend and, comeing toward me, My soule that ever wakes, angrie to see My body made a prisoner and so mock'd, Shook of the chaines of sleepe, least I should loose Essentiall pleasure for a dreame. Tis happie; I will not trust my selfe with ease and silence, But walke and waite her comeing that must bless me. Forgive me, you bright starres, and do not frowne That I have not attended as became One that must live by your kind influence. Not yet appeard? She did comand I should With confidence expect her. Ha! what's here? This Character, was not visible before. _That man's too much compos'd of phleame Will loose his Mistress for a Dreame_. [_Reades_. Tis her's, I know't; she has been here, oh fatall! And finding me asleepe scorn'd to uncharme My dull and cursed silence. This distracts me: Have I so long, with so much Art and study, Labour'd this honour, and obtaind what my Ambition look'd at, her consent; and when The tree it selfe bowed downe its golden fruit And tempted me to gather, must I make My selfe uncapable and be guilty of So black, so base a forfeit? I could teare My eyelids of, that durst let in a Mist So darke and so destroying, must I sleepe At such a tyme that the Divell must be over Watche too! This houre hath blasted such a hope As the Earth never teemd with nor the spring Gave up in smileing blosomes to the breath Of those sweet windes that whisper from the West A tale of triumph to the yeere. I could Dissolve with curseing of my Lathargie. How shall I looke upon her face whose love And bold adventure I have thus rewarded? But passion cannot cure my wound; which must Bleed till I see her, and then either cease, Blest by her pardon, or dismiss a life (Though iust) too poore a Sacrifice for her anger. Where shall I hide my selfe and shame for ever! [_Exit_. _The Fifth Act_. _Enter Sister_. _Sis_. I cannot forgett my carelesse gentleman: his neglect and reproaches have wrought strangely upon me.--Hee's here. _Enter Courtwell_. _Cou_. Is there not a weesill crept into your Chamber, lady? _Sis_. A weesill, sir? _Cou_. A Mounsier sucklegge. _Sis_. Do you take my Chamber for a henns neast? _Cou_. There is a thing that calls himselfe _Device_, One that will break the hart of a post horse To continue a hand gallop with him; your Alamode, Your fighting faery feather'd footed servant,-- When saw you him?