till thine eies dassel, and thy spirites fainte, die before his face: then110 this shall be written on thy Tomb, that though thy loue were greater then wisdome could endure, yet thine honour was such, as loue could not violate.--Mileta!
〈Re-enter MILETA and ISMENA.〉
Mileta. I come.
Sapho. It wil not be, I can take no reste, which way soeuer115 I turne.
Mileta. A straunge maladie!
Sapho. Mileta, if thou wilt, a Martiredom. But giue me my lute, and I will see if in songe I can beguile mine owne eies.
Mileta. Here Madame.120
Sapho. Haue you sent for Phao?
Sapho. And to bring simples that will procure sleepe?
Sapho. Foolish wensh, what should the boy doe heere, if he bring125 not remedies with him? you thinke belike I could sleep, if I did but see him. Let him not come at al: yes, let him come: no, it is no matter: yet will I trie, lette him come: doe you heare?
Mileta. Yea Madame, it shall be doone. 〈She comes from the recess.〉 Peace, no noise: shee beginneth to fall asleepe. I will goe130 to Phao.
Isme. Goe speedily: for if she wake, and finde you not heere, shee will bee angry. Sicke folkes are testie, who though they eate nothing, yet they feede on gall.
〈Exit MILETA while ISMENAretires.〉
Sapho. O Cruell Loue! on thee I lay135 My curse, which shall strike blinde the Day:
Neuer may sleepe with veluet hand
Charme thine eyes with Sacred wand;
Thy laylours shalbe Hopes and Feares;
Thy Prison-mates, Grones, Sighes, and Teares;140 Thy Play to weare out weary times,
Phantasticke Passion, Uowes, and Rimes;