+Don O.+ The tide of my ill fate is swoll'n so high, 'Twill not admit increase of misery; Since, amongst all the curses, there is none So wounds the spirit as privation: For 'tis not where we lie, but whence we fell; The loss of heaven's the greatest pain in hell. When I had sail'd the doubtful course of love, Had safely gain'd my port, and (far above My hopes) the precious treasure had secured For which so many storms I had endur'd: To be so soon from this great blessing torn, That's hard to say, if 'twere first dead or born, May doubtless seem such a transcendent curse, That even the Fates themselves could do no worse: Yet this I bore with an erected face. Since fortune, not my fault, caus'd my disgrace; But now my eyes unto the earth are bent, Conscious of meriting this punishment: For trusting a fond maid's officious care, My life and honour's taken in this snare; And thus I perish on this unseen shelf, Pursu'd by fate, and false unto myself. Flora, when I am dead, I pray present [_He pulls out his tablets._ These tablets to your lady; there she'll find My last request, with reasons which I give, That for my sake she would vouchsafe to live. Give me the candle, Flora. [_+Octavio+ sets the candle on a table, and sits down to write in his tablets._ +Diego.+ A double curse upon all love in earnest, All constant love: 'tis still accompanied With strange disasters, or else ends in that Which is the worst of all disasters--marriage. +Flo.+ Sure, you could wish that everybody living Had such a soul of quicksilver as yours, That can fix nowhere. +Diego.+ Why' 'twould not be the worse for you, dear Flora; You then might hope in time to have your turn, As well as those who have much better faces. +Flo.+ You, I presume, sir, would be one o' th' latest, Which I should hear of; yet 'tis possible That one might see you before you should be Welcome. +Diego.+ She has wit and good-humour, excellent Ingredients to pass away the time; And I have kindness for her person too; But that will end with marriage, and possibly Her good-humour; for I have seldom known The husband and the wife make any music, Though when asunder they can play their parts. Well, friend Diego, I advise you to look Before you leap, for if you should be coupled To a yoke, instead of a yoke-fellow, 'Tis likely you may wear it to your grave. Yet, honest Diego, now I think on't better, Your dancing and your vaulting days are done: Faith, all your pleasures are three storeys high, They are come up to your mouth; you are now For ease and eating, the only joys of life; And there's no cook, no dry-nurse, like a wife.