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Bel. Oh Melancholly, Who euer yet could sound thy bottome? Finde The Ooze, to shew what Coast thy sluggish care Might'st easilest harbour in. Thou blessed thing, Ioue knowes what man thou might'st haue made: but I, Thou dyed'st a most rare Boy, of Melancholly. How found you him? Arui. Starke, as you see: Thus smiling, as some Fly had tickled slumber, Not as deaths dart being laugh'd at: his right Cheeke Reposing on a Cushion