A01981:141
The saints sacrifice
The saints sacrifice: or, a commentary on the CXVI. Psalm Which is, a gratulatory psalm, for deliverance from deadly distress. By William Gouge, D.D.The saints sacrifice: or, a commentarie on the CXVI. Psalme Which is, a gratulatory psalme, for deliverance from deadly distresse. By William Gouge, D.D.
London: printed by George Miller for Edward Brewster, 1632
Title page typeset from the transcription.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
Cnem. Hence incestuous woman, Thinkest thou to make me wrong my fathers bed, And to commit an act so foul as incest? Tempt me no more; by heaven, by earth and all Th'immortal gods, I'll die a thousand deaths Ere think a thought on it, much less yield unto it, Your damned wit, nor quaint enticing words Shall not prevail, my hate exceeds my love. Exit Cnemon in a rage.
Cnem. Hence incestuous woman, Think'st thou to make me wrong my fathers bed, And to commit an act so foule as incest? Tempt me no more; by heaven, by earth and all Th'immortall gods, I'le die a thousand deaths Ere thinke a thought on't, much lesse yeeld unto it, Your damned wit, nor quaint inticing words Shall not prevaile, my hate exceeds my love. Exit Cnemon in a rage.
Demen. Am I despised thus, and my hot love Requited with disdain, as cold as ice, By such a youngling? he shall know the difference Between a woman's favours and her frowns, And curse too late his foolish modesty: Go Thisbe to the Castle, tell my husband I am not well, entreat him to come to me With all the speed he can.
Demen. Am I despised thus, and my hot love Requited with disdaine, as cold as ice, By such a youngling? he shall know the difference Betweene a womans favours and her frownes, And curse too late his foolish modesty: Goe Thisbe to the Castle, tell my husband I am not well, intreat him to come to me With all the speed he can.
This. I shall sweet Mistress.— Exit Thisbe. Demeneta lies down upon the bed, feigning her self sick.
This. I shall sweet Mistresse.— Exit Thisbe. Demeneta lies down upon the bed, faining her selfe sicke.