( 36 )
With silent wings I'll follow you, dear Couz;
Or else, before you, in the Sun-beams buz.
And when to Melancholy Groves you come,
An Airy Ghost, you'l know me by my Hum;
For sound, being Air, a Ghost does well become.
Smi. After a pause. Admirable!
Bayes. At night, into your bosom I will creep,
And Buz but softly if you chance to sleep:
Yet, in your Dreams, I will pass sweeping by,
And then, both Hum and Buz before your eye.
Johns. By my troth, that's a very great promise.
Smi. Yes, and a most extraordinary comfort to boot.
Bayes. Your bed of Love, from dangers I will free;
But most, from love of any future Bee.
And when, with pitie, you heart-strings shall crack,
With emptie arms I'l bear you on my back.
Smi. A pick-a-pack, a pick-a-pack.
Bayes. Ay, I gad, but is not that tuant now, ha? is it not tuant? Here's the end.
Then, at your birth of immortality,
Like any winged Archer, hence I'l fly,
And teach you your first flutt'ring in the Sky.
Johns. O rare! it is the most natural, refin'd fancie this, that ever I heard, I'l swear.
Bayes. Yes, I think, for a dead person, it is a good enough way of making love: for being divested of her Terrestrial part, and all that, she is only capable of these little, pretty, amorous designs that are innocent, and yet passionate. Come, draw your swords.
K. Phys. Come sword, come sheath thy self within this brest,
That only in Lardella's Tomb can rest.
K. Ush. Come, dagger, come, and penetrate this heart,
Which cannot from Lardella's Love depart.
Enter Pallas.
Pal. Hold, stop your murd'ring hands
At Pallases commands:
For
