Ri. coughs.—­Uh, uh!

Do.  Oh, oh!—­Ile shift places to shew more distraction; at the worst my noise shall be within his reach; it may give her notice to returne too.
        [Exit.

[SCENE 6.]

    Sir Francis a sleepe; a table, inke, and paper.  Enter Lady.

La.  I am full of feares, and my owne motion frights me;
This furious love is a strange pilot.  Sir,
Where are you? ha! asleepe! can any dulnes
That is not Death possess a gentleman,
So valiant in desires, when he expects
To meete his Mistresse?  How I blush to raise him! 
Was I not worth thy waking expectation? 
Farewell; yet something that [like?] a charme that’s fastned
To my poore hart restraines me.  Inke and paper! 
Ile leave him a short monument of this shame
And my neglected Love. [Writes. 
He knowes my hand:  farwell, forgetfull Lover.
          
                                [Exit.

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