There’s nothing that can stir me from myself.
What I have done, I have done without repentance,
For death can be no bugbear unto me,
So long as Pharamond is not my headsman.
_Dion._ [_Aside._] Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy maid,
Whene’er thou diest! For this time I’ll excuse thee, 75
Or be thy prologue.
_Phi._ Sir, let me speak next;
And let my dying words be better with you
Than my dull living actions. If you aim
At the dear life of this sweet innocent,
You are a tyrant and a savage monster, 80
[That feeds upon the blood you gave a life to;][3263]
Your memory shall be as foul behind you,
As you are living; all your better deeds
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble; 84
No chronicle shall speak you, though your own,
But for the shame of men. No monument,
Though high and big as Pelion, shall be able
To cover this base murder: make it rich
With brass, with purest gold, and shining jasper,
Like the Pyramides; lay on epitaphs 90
Such as make great men gods; my little marble,
That only clothes my ashes, not my faults,
Shall far outshine it. And for after-issues,
Think not so madly of the heavenly wisdoms,
That they will give you more for your mad rage 95
To cut off, unless it be some snake, or something
Like yourself, that in his birth shall strangle you.
Remember my father, King! There was a fault,
But I forgive it. Let that sin persuade you
To love this lady; if you have a soul, 100
Think, save her, and be saved. For myself,
I have so long expected this glad hour,
So languisht under you, and daily withered,
That, Heaven knows, it is a joy to die;
I find a recreation in’t. 105
_Enter a_ Messenger.
_Mess._ Where is the King?
_King._ Here.
_Mess._ Get you to your strength,
And rescue the Prince Pharamond from danger;
He’s taken prisoner by the citizens,
Fearing[3264] the Lord Philaster.
_Dion._ [_Aside._] Oh, brave followers!
Mutiny, my fine dear countrymen, mutiny! 110
Now, my brave valiant foremen, shew your weapons
In honour of your mistresses!
_Enter a_ Second Messenger.
_2 Mess._ Arm, arm, arm, arm!
_King._ A thousand devils take ’em!
_Dion._ [_Aside._] A thousand blessings on ’em!
_2 Mess._ Arm, O King! The city is in mutiny, 116
Led by an old gray ruffian, who comes on
In rescue of the Lord Philaster.
_King._ Away to the citadel! I’ll see them safe,
And then cope with these burghers. Let the guard 120
And all the gentlemen give strong attendance.
_Exeunt all except_ DION, CLEREMONT, _and_ THRASILINE.
_Cle._ The city up! This was above our wishes.
_Dion._ Ay, and the marriage too. By my life,
This noble lady has deceiv’d us all.
A plague upon myself, a thousand plagues, 125
For having such unworthy thoughts of her dear honour!
Oh, I could beat myself! Or do you beat me,
And I’ll beat you; for we had all one thought.
_Cle._ No no, ’t will but lose time. 129
_Dion._ You say true. Are your swords sharp? —Well, my dear
countrymen What-ye-lacks,[3265] if you continue, and fall not back
upon the first broken skin, I’ll have you chronicled and chronicled,
and cut and chronicled, and all-to be-prais’d and sung in sonnets,
and bawled (135) in new brave ballads, that all tongues shall troll
you in _saecula saeculorum_, my kind can-carriers.
_Thra._ What, if a toy[3266] take ’em i’ th’ heels now, and they run
all away, and cry, “the devil take the hindmost”? 140
_Dion._ Then the same devil take the foremost too, and souse him for
his breakfast! If they all prove cowards, my curses fly among them,
and be speeding! May they have murrains reign to keep the gentlemen
at home unbound (145) in easy frieze! May the moths branch[3267]
their velvets, and their silks only be worn before sore eyes! May
their false lights undo ’em, and discover presses,[3268] holes,
stains, and oldness in their stuffs, and make them shop-rid! 150
May they keep whores and horses, and break; and live mewed up with
necks of beef and turnips! May they have many children, and none like
the father! May they know no language but that gibberish they prattle
to (155) their parcels, unless it be the goatish Latin they write in
their bonds—and may they write that false, and lose their debts!
_Re-enter_ KING.
_King._ Now the vengeance of all the gods confound them! How they
swarm together! (160) What a hum they raise!—Devils choke your
wild throats!—If a man had need to use their valours, he must pay
a brokage for it, and then bring ’em on, and they will fight like
sheep. ’T is Philaster, none but Philaster, must allay this heat.
They will not hear me speak, but (166) fling dirt at me and call me
tyrant. Oh, run, dear friend, and bring the Lord Philaster! Speak him
fair; call him prince; do him all the courtesy you can; commend me to
him. Oh, my (170) wits, my wits! _Exit_ CLEREMONT.
_Dion._ [_Aside._] Oh, my brave countrymen! as I live, I will not buy
a pin out of your walls for this. Nay, you shall cozen me, and I’ll
thank you, and send you brawn and bacon, and soil[3269] you every
long vacation a brace of foremen,[3270] (176) that at Michaelmas
shall come up fat and kicking.
_King._ What they will do with this poor prince, the gods know, and I
fear. 180
_Dion._ [_Aside._] Why, sir, they’ll flay him, and make
church-buckets on’s skin, to quench rebellion; then clap a rivet in’s
sconce, and hang him up for a sign.
_Enter_ CLEREMONT _with_ PHILASTER.
_King._ Oh, worthy sir, forgive me! Do not make 185
Your miseries and my faults meet together,
To bring a greater danger. Be yourself,
Still sound amongst diseases. I have wrong’d you;
And though I find it last, and beaten to it,
Let first, your goodness know it. Calm the people, 190
And be what you were born to. Take your love,
And with her my repentance, all my wishes,
And all my prayers. By the gods, my heart speaks this;
And if the least fall from me not perform’d,
May I be struck with thunder!
_Phi._ Mighty sir, 195
I will not do your greatness so much wrong,
As not to make your word truth. Free the princess
And the poor boy, and let me stand the shock
Of this mad sea-breach, which I’ll either turn,
Or perish with it.
_King._ Let your own word free them. 200
_Phi_ Then thus I take my leave, kissing your hand,
And hanging on your royal word. Be kingly,
And be not mov’d, sir. I shall bring you peace
Or never bring myself back.
_King._ All the gods go with thee. _Exeunt._
[SCENE IV.][3271]
_Enter an old_ Captain _and_ Citizens _with_ PHARAMOND.
_Cap._ Come, my brave myrmidons, let us fall on.
Let your caps swarm, my boys, and your nimble tongues
Forget your mother-gibberish of “what do you lack?”
And set your mouths ope, children, till your palates
Fall frighted half a fathom past the cure 5
Of bay-salt and gross pepper, and then cry
“Philaster, brave Philaster!” Let Philaster
Be deeper in request, my ding-dongs,[3272]
My pairs of dear indentures,[3273] kings of clubs,[3273]
Than your cold water-camlets,[3274] or your paintings 10
Spitted with copper.[3275] Let not your hasty silks,
Or your branch’d cloth of bodkin,[3276] or your tissues,
Dearly belov’d of spiced cake and custards,
Your Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns, tie your affections
In darkness to your shops. No dainty duckers,[3277]
Up with your three-pil’d spirits, your wrought valours;[3278] 16
And let your uncut cholers[3279] make the King feel
The measure of your mightiness. Philaster!
Cry, my rose-nobles,[3280] cry!
_All._ Philaster! Philaster!
_Cap._ How do you like this, my lord prince?
These are mad boys, I tell you; these are things 21
That will not strike their top-sails to a foist,[3281]
And let a man of war, an argosy,
Hull[3282] and cry cockles.[3283]
_Pha._ Why, you rude slave, do you know what you do? 25
_Cap._ My pretty prince of puppets, we do know;
And give your greatness warning that you talk
No more such bug’s-words,[3284] or that solder’d crown
Shall be scratch’d with a musket.[3285] Dear prince Pippin,
Down with your noble blood, or, as I live, 30
I ’ll have you coddled.[3286]—Let him loose, my spirits:
Make us a round ring with your bills, my Hectors,
And let us see what this trim man dares do.
Now, sir, have at you! here I lie;
And with this swashing blow (do you see, sweet prince?) 35
I could hulk[3287] your grace, and hang you up cross-legg’d,
Like a hare at a poulter’s, and do this with this wiper.[3288]
_Pha._ You will not see me murder’d, wicked villains?
_1 Cit._ Yes, indeed, will we, sir; we have not seen one
For a great while.
_Cap._ He would have weapons, would he? 40
Give him a broadside, my brave boys, with your pikes;
Branch me his skin in flowers like a satin,
And between every flower a mortal cut.—
Your royalty shall ravel![3289]—Jag him, gentlemen;
I’ll have him cut to the kell,[3290] then down the seams. 45
O for a whip to make him galloon-laces![3291]
I’ll have a coach-whip.
_Pha._ Oh, spare me, gentlemen!
_Cap._ Hold, hold;
The man begins to fear and know himself.
He shall for this time only be seel’d up,[3292] 50
With a feather through his nose, that he may only
See heaven, and think whither he is going.
Nay, my beyond-sea sir, we will proclaim you:
You would be king!
Thou tender heir apparent to a church-ale,[3293] 55
Thou slight prince of single sarcenet,[3294]
Thou royal ring-tail,[3295] fit to fly at nothing
But poor men’s poultry, and have every boy
Beat thee from that too with his bread and butter!
_Pha._ Gods keep me from these hell-hounds!
_1 Cit._ Shall’s geld him, captain? 61
_Cap._ No, you shall spare his dowcets, my dear donsels;[3296]
As you respect the ladies, let them flourish.
The curses of a longing woman kill
As speedy as a plague, boys. 65
_1 Cit._ I’ll have a leg, that’s certain.
_2 Cit._ I’ll have an arm.
_3 Cit._ I’ll have his nose, and at mine own charge build
A college and clap ’t upon the gate.[3297]
_4 Cit._ I’ll have his little gut to string a kit[3298] with;
For certainly a royal gut will sound like silver.
_Pha._ Would they were in thy belly, and I past 71
My pain once!
_5 Cit._ Good captain, let me have his liver to feed ferrets.
_Cap._ Who will have parcels else? Speak.
_Pha._ Good gods, consider me! I shall be tortur’d. 75
_1 Cit._ Captain, I’ll give you the trimming of your two-hand sword,
And let me have his skin to make false scabbards.
_2 Cit._ He had no horns, sir, had he?
_Cap._ No, sir, he ’s a pollard.[3299]
What wouldst thou do with horns?
_2 Cit._ Oh, if he had had, 80
I would have made rare hafts and whistles of ’em;
But his shin-bones, if they be sound, shall serve me.
_Enter_ PHILASTER.
_All._ Long live Philaster, the brave Prince Philaster!
_Phi._ I thank you, gentlemen. But why are these
Rude weapons brought abroad, to teach your hands 85
Uncivil trades?
_Cap._ My royal Rosicleer,[3300]
We are thy myrmidons, thy guard, thy roarers;[3301]
And when thy noble body is in durance,
Thus do we clap our musty murrions[3302] on,
And trace the streets in terror. Is it peace, 90
Thou Mars of men? Is the King sociable,
And bids thee live? Art thou above thy foe-men,
And free as Phoebus? Speak. If not, this stand[3303]
Of royal blood shall he abroach, a-tilt,
And run even to the lees of honour. 95
_Phi._ Hold, and be satisfied. I am myself;
Free as my thoughts are; by the gods, I am!
_Cap._ Art thou the dainty darling of the King?
Art thou the Hylas to our Hercules?
Do the lords bow, and the regarded scarlets[3304]
Kiss their gumm’d golls,[3305] and cry, “We are your servants”? 101
Is the court navigable and the presence stuck
With flags of friendship? If not, we are thy castle,
And this man sleeps.
_Phi._ I am what I desire to be, your friend;
I am what I was born to be, your prince. 106
_Pha._ Sir, there is some humanity in you;
You have a noble soul. Forget my name,
And know my misery; set me safe aboard
From these wild cannibals, and as I live, 110
I ’ll quit this land for ever. There is nothing,—
Perpetual prisonment, cold, hunger, sickness
Of all sorts, of all dangers, and all together,
The worst company of the worst men, madness, age,
To be as many creatures as a woman, 115
And do as all they do, nay, to despair,—
But I would rather make it a new nature,
And live with all these, than endure one hour
Amongst these wild dogs.
_Phi._ I do pity you.—Friends, discharge your fears; 120
Deliver me the prince. I ’ll warrant you
I shall be old enough to find my safety.
_3 Cit._ Good sir, take heed he does not hurt you;
He is a fierce man, I can tell you, sir.
_Cap._ Prince, by your leave, I ’ll have a surcingle,[3306] 125
And make[3307] you like a hawk. [PHAR.] _strives_.
_Phi._ Away, away, there is no danger in him:
Alas, he had rather sleep to shake his fit off!
Look you, friends, how gently he leads! Upon my word,
He ’s tame enough, he needs no further watching. 130
Good my friends, go to your houses,
And by me have your pardons and my love;
And know there shall be nothing in my power
You may deserve, but you shall have your wishes.
To give you more thanks, were to flatter you.
Continue still your love; and for an earnest, 136
Drink this. [_Gives money._]
_All._ Long mayst thou live, brave prince, brave prince, brave prince!
_Exeunt_ PHIL. _and_ PHAR.
_Cap._ Go thy ways, thou art the king of courtesy!
Fall off again, my sweet youths. Come, 140
And every man trace to his house again,
And hang his pewter up; then to the tavern,
And bring your wives in muffs. We will have music;
And the red grape shall make us dance and rise, boys. _Exeunt._
[SCENE V.][3308]
_Enter_ KING, ARETHUSA, GALATEA, MEGRA, DION, CLEREMONT, THRASILINE,
BELLARIO, _and_ ATTENDANTS.
_King._ Is it appeas’d?
_Dion._ Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night,
As peaceable as sleep. My lord Philaster
Brings on the prince himself.
_King._ Kind gentleman!
I will not break the least word I have given 5
In promise to him. I have heap’d a world
Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope
To wash away.
_Enter_ PHILASTER _and_ PHARAMOND.
_Cle._ My lord is come.
_King._ My son!
Blest be the time that I have leave to call
Such virtue mine! Now thou art in mine arms,
Methinks I have a salve unto my breast 11
For all the stings that dwell there. Streams of grief
That I have wrong’d thee, and as much of joy
That I repent it, issue from mine eyes;
Let them appease thee. Take thy right; take her; 15
She is thy right too; and forget to urge
My vexed soul with that I did before.
_Phi._ Sir, it is blotted from my memory,
Past and forgotten.—For you, prince of Spain,
Whom I have thus redeem’d, you have full leave 20
To make an honourable voyage home.
And if you would go furnish’d to your realm
With fair provision, I do see a lady,
Methinks, would gladly bear you company.
How like you this piece?
_Meg._ Sir, he likes it well, 25
For he hath tried it, and hath found it worth
His princely liking. We were ta’en abed;
I know your meaning. I am not the first
That nature taught to seek a fellow forth;
Can shame remain perpetually in me, 30
And not in others? Or have princes salves
To cure ill names, that meaner people want?
_Phi._ What mean you?
_Meg._ You must get another ship,
To bear the princess and her boy together.
_Dion._ How now! 35
_Meg._ Others took me, and I took her and him
At that all women may be ta’en sometime.
Ship us all four, my lord; we can endure
Weather and wind alike.
_King._ Clear thou thyself, or know not me for father. 40
_Are._ This earth, how false it is! What means is left for me
To clear myself? It lies in your belief.
My lords, believe me; and let all things else
Struggle together to dishonour me.
_Bel._ Oh, stop your ears, great King, that I may speak 45
As freedom would! Then I will call this lady
As base as are her actions. Hear me, sir;
Believe your heated blood when it rebels
Against your reason, sooner than this lady.
_Meg._ By this good light, he bears it handsomely. 50
_Phi._ This lady! I will sooner trust the wind
With feathers, or the troubled sea with pearl,
Than her with any thing. Believe her not.
Why, think you, if I did believe her words,
I would outlive ’em? Honour cannot take 55
Revenge on you; then what were to be known
But death?
_King._ Forget her, sir, since all is knit
Between us. But I must request of you
One favour, and will sadly[3309] be denied.
_Phi._ Command, whate’er it be.
_King._ Swear to be true 60
To what you promise.
_Phi._ By the powers above,
Let it not be the death of her or him,
And it is granted!
_King._ Bear away that boy
To torture; I will have her clear’d or buried.
_Phi._ Oh, let me call my word back, worthy sir!
Ask something else: bury my life and right 66
In one poor grave; but do not take away
My life and fame at once.
_King._ Away with him! It stands irrevocable.
_Phi._ Turn all your eyes on me. Here stands a man, 70
The falsest and the basest of this world.
Set swords against this breast, some honest man,
For I have liv’d till I am pitied!
My former deeds were hateful; but this last
Is pitiful, for I unwillingly 75
Have given the dear preserver of my life
Unto his torture. Is it in the power
Of flesh and blood to carry this, and live? _Offers to stab himself._
_Are._ Dear sir, be patient yet! Oh, stay that hand!
_King._ Sirs, strip that boy.
_Dion._ Come, sir; your tender flesh 80
Will try your constancy.
_Bel._ Oh, kill me, gentlemen!
_Dion._ No.—Help, sirs.
_Bel._ Will you torture me?
_King._ Haste there;
Why stay you?
_Bel._ Then I shall not break my vow,
You know, just gods, though I discover all.
_King._ How’s that? Will he confess?
_Dion._ Sir, so he says. 85
_King._ Speak then.
_Bel._ Great King, if you command
This lord to talk with me alone, my tongue
Urg’d by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts
My youth hath known; and stranger things than these
You hear not often.
_King._ Walk aside with him. 90
[DION _and_ BELLARIO _walk apart._]
_Dion._ Why speak’st thou not?
_Bel._ Know you this face, my lord?
_Dion._ No.
_Bel._ Have you not seen it, nor the like?
_Dion._ Yes, I have seen the like, but readily
I know not where.
_Bel._ I have been often told
In court of one Euphrasia, a lady, 95
And daughter to you; betwixt whom and me
They that would flatter my bad face would swear
There was such strange resemblance, that we two
Could not be known asunder, drest alike.
_Dion._ By Heaven, and so there is!
_Bel._ For her fair sake, 100
Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life
In holy pilgrimage, move to the King,
That I may scape this torture.
_Dion._ But thou speak’st
As like Euphrasia as thou dost look.
How came it to thy knowledge that she lives 105
In pilgrimage?
_Bel._ I know it not, my lord;
But I have heard it, and do scarce believe it.
_Dion._ Oh, my shame! is it possible? Draw near,
That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she,
Or else her murderer?[3310] Where wert thou born? 110
_Bel._ In Syracusa.
_Dion._ What’s thy name?
_Bel._ Euphrasia.
_Dion._ Oh, ’t is just, ’t is she!
Now I do know thee. Oh, that thou hadst died,
And I had never seen thee nor my shame!
How shall I own thee? Shall this tongue of mine 115
E’er call thee daughter more?
_Bel._ Would I had died indeed! I wish it too;
And so I must have done by vow, ere publish’d
What I have told, but that there was no means
To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this, 120
The princess is all clear.
_King._ What, have you done?
_Dion._ All is discovered.
_Phi._ Why then hold you me?
All is discovered! Pray you, let me go. _Offers to stab himself._
_King._ Stay him.
_Are._ What is discovered?
_Dion._ Why, my shame.
It is a woman; let her speak the rest. 125
_Phi._ How? That again!
_Dion._ It is a woman.
_Phi._ Blest be you powers that favour innocence!
_King._ Lay hold upon that lady. [MEGRA _is seized_.]
_Phi._ It is a woman, sir!—Hark, gentlemen,
It is a woman!—Arethusa, take 130
My soul into thy breast, that would be gone
With joy. It is a woman! Thou art fair,
And virtuous still to ages, in despite
Of malice.
_King._ Speak you, where lies his shame?
_Bel._ I am his daughter. 135
_Phi._ The gods are just.
_Dion._ I dare accuse none; but, before you two,
The virtue of our age, I bend my knee
For mercy. [_Kneels._]
_Phi._ [_raising him._] Take it freely; for I know,
Though what thou didst were undiscreetly done, 140
’T was meant well.
_Are._ And for me,
I have a power to pardon sins, as oft
As any man has power to wrong me.
_Cle._ Noble and worthy!
_Phi._ But, Bellario,
(For I must call thee still so,) tell me why 145
Thou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault,
A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds
Of truth outweigh’d it: all these jealousies
Had flown to nothing if thou hadst discovered
What now we know.
_Bel._ My father oft would speak 150
Your worth and virtue; and, as I did grow
More and more apprehensive,[3311] I did thirst
To see the man so prais’d. But yet all this
Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost
As soon as found; till, sitting in my window, 155
Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,
I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates.
My blood flew out and back again, as fast
As I had puft it forth and suckt it in 159
Like breath. Then was I call’d away in haste
To entertain you. Never was a man,
Heav’d from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, rais’d
So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep
From you for ever. I did hear you talk, 165
Far above singing. After you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and search’d
What stirr’d it so: alas, I found it love!
Yet far from lust; for, could I but have liv’d
In presence of you, I had had my end. 170
For this I did delude my noble father
With a feign’d pilgrimage, and drest myself
In habit of a boy; and, for I knew
My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Of having you; and, understanding well 175
That when I made discovery of my sex
I could not stay with you, I made a vow,
By all the most religious things a maid
Could call together, never to be known,
Whilst there was hope to hide me from men’s eyes, 180
For other than I seem’d, that I might ever
Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount,
Where first you took me up.
_King._ Search out a match
Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt,
And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself 185
Wilt well deserve him.
_Bel._ Never, sir, will I
Marry; it is a thing within my vow:
But, if I may have leave to serve the princess,
To see the virtues of her lord and her,
I shall have hope to live.
_Are._ I, Philaster, 190
Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady
Drest like a page to serve you; nor will I
Suspect her living here.—Come, live with me;
Live free as I do. She that loves my lord,
Curst be the wife that hates her! 195
_Phi._ I grieve such virtue should be laid in earth
Without an heir.—Hear me, my royal father:
Wrong not the freedom of our souls so much,
To think to take revenge of that base woman;
Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her free 200
As she was born, saving from shame and sin.
_King._ Set her at liberty.—But leave the court;
This is no place for such.—You, Pharamond,
Shall have free passage, and a conduct home
Worthy so great a prince. When you come there, 205
Remember ’t was your faults that lost you her,
And not my purpos’d will.
_Pha._ I do confess,
Renowned sir.
_King._ Last, join your hands in one. Enjoy, Philaster,
This kingdom, which is yours, and, after me, 210
Whatever I call mine. My blessing on you!
All happy hours be at your marriage-joys,
That you may grow yourselves, over all lands,
And live to see your plenteous branches spring
Wherever there is sun! Let princes learn 215
By this to rule the passions of their blood;
For what Heaven wills can never be withstood. _Exeunt omnes._
THE MAID’S TRAGEDY
BY FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER
[DRAMATIS PERSONAE.]
KING.
LYSIPPUS, brother to the King.
AMINTOR, [a noble Gentleman.]
MELANTIUS, }
DIPHILUS, } brothers to Evadne.
CALIANAX, an old humorous Lord, and father to Aspatia.
CLEON, }
STRATO, } Gentlemen.
DIAGORAS, a servant.
[Lords, Gentlemen, Servants, etc.]
EVADNE, wife to Amintor.
ASPATIA, troth-plight wife to Amintor.
ANTIPHILA, }
OLYMPIAS, } waiting gentlewomen to Aspatia.
DULA, a Lady, [attendant on Evadne.]
[Ladies.]
MASQUERS.
Night, Cynthia, Neptune, Aeolus, [Sea Gods, Winds.]
[SCENE.—_The City of Rhodes._]
ACT I
SCENE I.[3312]
_Enter_ CLEON, STRATO, LYSIPPUS, _and_ DIPHILUS.
_Cle._ The rest are making ready, sir.
_Lys._ So let them; there’s time enough.
_Diph._ You are the brother to the King, my lord;
We ’ll take your word.
_Lys._ Strato, thou hast some skill in poetry; 5
What think’st thou of the masque? Will it be well?
_Stra._ As well as masques can be.
_Lys._ As masques can be!
_Stra._ Yes; they must commend their king, and speak in praise
Of the assembly, bless the bride and bridegroom
In person of some god; they ’re tied to rules 10
Of flattery.
_Cle._ See, good my lord, who is return’d!
_Enter_ MELANTIUS.
_Lys._ Noble Melantius, the land by me
Welcomes thy virtues home to Rhodes;
Thou that with blood abroad buyest our peace!
The breath of kings is like the breath of gods; 15
My brother wisht thee here, and thou art here.
He will be too kind, and weary thee
With often welcomes; but the time doth give thee
A welcome above his or all the world’s.
_Mel._ My lord, my thanks; but these scratcht limbs of mine 20
Have spoke my love and truth unto my friends,
More than my tongue e’er could. My mind’s the same
It ever was to you: where I find worth,
I love the keeper till he let it go,
And then I follow it.
_Diph._ Hail, worthy brother! 25
He that rejoices not at your return
In safety is mine enemy for ever.
_Mel._ I thank thee, Diphilus. But thou art faulty:
I sent for thee to exercise thine arms
With me at Patria; thou cam’st not, Diphilus;
’T was ill.
_Diph._ My noble brother, my excuse 31
Is my king’s strict command, which you, my lord,
Can witness with me.
_Lys._ ’T is most true, Melantius;
He might not come till the solemnities
Of this great match were past.
_Diph._ Have you heard of it? 35
_Mel._ Yes, and have given cause to those that here
Envy my deeds abroad to call me gamesome:
I have no other business here at Rhodes.
_Lys._ We have a masque to-night, and you must tread
A soldier’s measure. 40
_Mel._ These soft and silken wars are not for me:
The music must be shrill and all confus’d
That stirs my blood; and then I dance with arms.
But is Amintor wed?
_Diph._ This day.
_Mel._ All joys upon him! for he is my friend.
Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend: 46
His worth is great; valiant he is and temperate;
And one that never thinks his life his own,
If his friend need it. When he was a boy,
As oft as I return’d (as, without boast, 50
I brought home conquest), he would gaze upon me
And view me round, to find in what one limb
The virtue lay to do these things he heard;
Then would he wish to see my sword, and feel
The quickness of the edge, and in his hand 55
Weigh it. He oft would make me smile at this.
His youth did promise much, and his ripe years
Will see it all perform’d.
_Enter_ ASPATIA, _passing by_.
Hail, maid and wife!
Thou fair Aspatia, may the holy knot
That thou hast tied to-day last till the hand 60
Of age undo ’t! May’st thou bring a race
Unto Amintor, that may fill the world
Successively with soldiers!
_Asp._ My hard fortunes
Deserve not scorn, for I was never proud
When they were good. _Exit._
_Mel._ How’s this?
_Lys._ You are mistaken, sir; 65
She is not married.
_Mel._ You said Amintor was.
_Diph._ ’Tis true; but——
_Mel._ Pardon me; I did receive
Letters at Patria from my Amintor,
That he should marry her.
_Diph._ And so it stood
In all opinion long; but your arrival 70
Made me imagine you had heard the change.
_Mel._ Who hath he taken then?
_Lys._ A lady, sir,
That bears the light about[3313] her, and strikes dead
With flashes of her eye; the fair Evadne,
Your virtuous sister.
_Mel._ Peace of heart betwixt them! 75
But this is strange.
_Lys._ The King, my brother, did it
To honour you; and these solemnities
Are at his charge.
_Mel._ ’T is royal, like himself. But I am sad
My speech bears so unfortunate a sound 80
To beautiful Aspatia. There is rage
Hid in her father’s breast, Calianax,
Bent long against me; and he should not think,
If I could call it back, that I would take
So base revenges, as to scorn the state 85
Of his neglected daughter. Holds he still
His greatness with the King?
_Lys._ Yes. But this lady
Walks discontented, with her watery eyes
Bent on the earth. The unfrequented woods
Are her delight; where, when she sees a bank
Stuck full of flowers, she with a sigh will tell 91
Her servants what a pretty place it were
To bury lovers in; and make her maids
Pluck ’em, and strow her over like a corse.
She carries with her an infectious grief, 95
That strikes all her beholders: she will sing
The mournful’st things that ever ear hath heard,
And sigh, and sing again; and when the rest
Of our young ladies, in their wanton blood,
Tell mirthful tales in course,[3314] that fill the room
With laughter, she will, with so sad a look, 101
Bring forth a story of the silent death
Of some forsaken virgin, which her grief
Will put in such a phrase that, ere she end,
She’ll send them weeping one by one away. 105
_Mel._ She has a brother under my command,[3315]
Like her; a face as womanish as hers;
But with a spirit that hath much outgrown
The number of his years.
_Enter_ AMINTOR.
_Cle._ My lord the bridegroom!
_Mel._ I might run fiercely, not more hastily,
Upon my foe. I love thee well, Amintor; 111
My mouth is much too narrow for my heart;
I joy to look upon those eyes of thine;
Thou art my friend, but my disordered speech
Cuts off my love.
_Amin._ Thou art Melantius; 115
All love is spoke in that. A sacrifice,
To thank the gods Melantius is return’d
In safety! Victory sits on his sword,
As she was wont. May she build there and dwell;
And may thy armour be, as it hath been, 120
Only thy valour and thine innocence!
What endless treasures would our enemies give,
That I might hold thee still thus!
_Mel._ I am poor
In words: but credit me, young man, thy mother 124
Could do no more but weep for joy to see thee
After long absence. All the wounds I have
Fetcht not so much away, nor all the cries
Of widowed mothers. But this is peace,
And that was war.
_Amin._ Pardon, thou holy god
Of marriage-bed, and frown not, I am forc’d,
In answer of such noble tears as those, 131
To weep upon my wedding-day!
_Mel._ I fear thou art grown too fickle; for I hear
A lady mourns for thee, men say, to death,
Forsaken of thee, on what terms[3316] I know not.
_Amin._ She had my promise; but the King forbad it, 136
And made me make this worthy change, thy sister,
Accompanied with graces [far][3317] above[3318] her,
With whom I long to lose my lusty youth
And grow old in her arms.
_Mel._ Be prosperous! 140
_Enter_ Messenger.
_Mess._ My lord, the masquers rage for you.
_Lys._ Cleon, Strato, Diphilus! We are gone.
_Amin._ We’ll all attend you.—
_Exeunt_ LYSIPPUS, CLEON, STRATO, DIPHILUS [_and_ Messenger].
We shall trouble you
With our solemnities.
_Mel._ Not so, Amintor;
But if you laugh at my rude carriage 145
In peace, I’ll do as much for you in war.
When you come thither. Yet I have a mistress
To bring to your delights; rough though I am,
I have a mistress, and she has a heart 149
She says; but, trust me, it is stone, no better;
There is no place that I can challenge in ’t.
But you stand still, and here my way lies. _Exeunt_ [_severally_].
[SCENE II.][3319]
_Enter_ CALIANAX _with_ DIAGORAS.
_Cal._ Diagoras, look to the doors better, for shame! You let in
all the world, and anon the King will rail at me. Why, very well
said.[3320] By Jove, the King will have the show i’ th’ court!
_Diag._ Why do you swear so, my lord? You know he’ll have it here. 6
_Cal._ By this light, if he be wise, he will not.
_Diag._ And if he will not be wise, you are forsworn.
_Cal._ One may wear his heart out with swearing, and get thanks on no
side. I’ll be gone, (11) look to ’t who will.
_Diag._ My lord, I shall never keep them out. Pray, stay; your looks
will terrify them.
_Cal._ My looks terrify them, you coxcombly (15) ass, you! I’ll be
judged by all the company whether thou hast not a worse face than I.
_Diag._ I mean, because they know you and your office.
_Cal._ Office! I would I could put it off! I (20) am sure I sweat
quite through my office. I might have made room at my daughter’s
wedding; they ha’ near kill’d her among them; and now I must do
service for him that hath forsaken her. Serve that will! _Exit._ 25
_Diag._ He’s so humorous[3321] since his daughter
was forsaken! (_Knock within._) Hark, hark!
there, there! so, so! codes, codes![3322] What now?
_Mel._ (_within._) Open the door.
_Diag._ Who’s there? 30
_Mel._ [_within._] Melantius.
_Diag._ I hope your lordship brings no troop with you; for, if you
do, I must return them. [_Opens the door._]
_Enter_ MELANTIUS _and a_ Lady.
_Mel._ None but this lady, sir.
_Diag._ The ladies are all plac’d above, save (35) those that come in
the King’s troop; the best of Rhodes sit there, and there ’s room.
_Mel._ I thank you, sir.—When I have seen you placed, madam, I must
attend the King; but, the masque done, I’ll wait on you again. 40
_Diag._ [_opening another door._] Stand back there!—Room for my Lord
Melantius! (_Exeunt_ MELANTIUS _and_ Lady, _other door_.)—Pray, bear
back—this is no place for such youth and their trulls[3323]—let the
doors shut again.—No!—do your heads itch? I’ll scratch them for 46
you. [_Shuts the door._]—So, now thrust and hang. [_Knocking
within._]—Again! who is ’t now?—I cannot blame my Lord Calianax for
going away; would he were here! He would run (50) raging among them,
and break a dozen wiser heads than his own in the twinkling of an
eye.—What’s the news now?
[_Voice_] _within_. I pray you, can you help me to the speech of the
master-cook? 55
_Diag._ If I open the door, I’ll cook some of your calves-heads.
Peace, rogues! [_Knocking within._]—Again! who is ’t?
_Mel._ (_within._) Melantius.
_Re-enter_ CALIANAX.
_Cal._ Let him not in. 60
_Diag._ O, my lord, I must. [_Opening the door._]—Make room there
for my lord. Is your lady plac’d?
_Re-enter_ MELANTIUS.
_Mel._ Yes, sir.
I thank you.—My Lord Calianax, well met. 65
Your causeless hate to me I hope is buried.
_Cal._ Yes, I do service for your sister here,
That brings my own poor child to timeless death.
She loves your friend Amintor; such another
False-hearted lord as you.
_Mel._ You do me wrong, 70
A most unmanly one, and I am slow
In taking vengeance: but be well advis’d.
_Cal._ It may be so.—Who plac’d the lady there
So near the presence of the King?
_Mel._ I did.
_Cal._ My lord, she must not sit there.
_Mel._ Why? 75
_Cal._ The place is kept for women of more worth.
_Mel._ More worth than she! It misbecomes your age
And place to be thus womanish: forbear!
What you have spoke, I am content to think
The palsy shook your tongue to.
_Cal._ Why, ’t is well, 80
If I stand here to place men’s wenches.
_Mel._ I
Shall quite forget this place, thy age, my safety,
And, through all, cut that poor sickly week
Thou hast to live away from thee.
_Cal._ Nay. I know you can fight for your whore. 85
_Mel._ Bate me the King, and, be he flesh and blood,
He lies that says it! Thy mother at fifteen
Was black and sinful to her.
_Diag._ Good my lord—
_Mel._ Some god pluck threescore years from that fond[3324] man, 89
That I may kill him, and not stain mine honour!
It is the curse of soldiers, that in peace
They shall be brav’d by such ignoble men
As, if the land were troubled, would with tears
And knees beg succour from ’em. Would that blood,
That sea of blood, that I have lost in fight, 95
Were running in thy veins, that it might make thee
Apt to say less, or able to maintain,
Should’st thou say more! This Rhodes, I see, is nought
But a place privileg’d to do men wrong.
_Cal._ Ay, you may say your pleasure.
_Enter_ AMINTOR.
_Amin._ What vile injury 100
Has stirr’d my worthy friend, who is as slow
To fight with words as he is quick of hand?
_Mel._ That heap of age, which I should reverence
If it were temperate, but testy years
Are most contemptible.
_Amin._ Good sir, forbear. 105
_Cal._ There is just such another as yourself.
_Amin._ He will wrong you, or me, or any man,
And talk as if he had no life to lose,
Since this our match. The King is coming in;
I would not for more wealth than I enjoy 110
He should perceive you raging. He did hear
You were at difference now, which hast’ned him.
_Hautboys play within._
_Cal._ Make room there!
_Enter_ KING, EVADNE, ASPATIA, Lords, _and_ Ladies.
_King._ Melantius, thou art welcome, and my love
Is with thee still; but this is not a place 115
To brabble[3325] in.—Calianax, join hands.
_Cal._ He shall not have mine hand.
_King._ This is no time
To force you to ’t. I do love you both:—
Calianax, you look well to your office;—
And you, Melantius, are welcome home. 120
Begin the masque.
_Mel._ Sister, I joy to see you and your choice;
You lookt with my eyes when you took that man.
Be happy in him! _Recorders_[3326] [_play_].
_Evad._ O, my dearest brother,
Your presence is more joyful than this day 125
Can be unto me.
THE MASQUE
NIGHT _rises in mists_.
_Night._ Our reign is come; for in the raging[3327] sea
The sun is drown’d, and with him fell the Day.
Bright Cynthia, hear my voice! I am the Night,
For whom thou bear’st about thy borrowed light.
Appear! no longer thy pale visage shroud, 5
But strike thy silver horns quite through a cloud,
And send a beam upon my swarthy face,
By which I may discover all the place
And persons, and how many longing eyes
Are come to wait on our solemnities. 10
_Enter_ CYNTHIA.
How dull and black am I! I could not find
This beauty[3328] without thee, I am so blind:
Methinks they show like to those eastern streaks,
That warn us hence before the morning breaks.
Back, my pale servant! for these eyes know how 15
To shoot far more and quicker rays than thou.
_Cynth._ Great queen, they be a troop for whom alone
One of my clearest moons I have put on;
A troop, that looks as if thyself and I
Had pluckt our reins in and our whips laid by, 20
To gaze upon these mortals, that appear
Brighter than we.
_Night._ Then let us keep ’em here,
And never more our chariots drive away,
But hold our places and outshine the Day.
_Cynth._ Great queen of shadows, you are pleas’d to speak 25
Of more than may be done. We may not break
The gods’ decrees; but, when our time is come,
Must drive away, and give the Day our room.
Yet, while our reign lasts, let us stretch our power
To give our servants one contented hour, 30
With such unwonted solemn grace and state,
As may forever after force them hate
Our brother’s glorious beams, and wish the Night
Crown’d with a thousand stars and our cold light:
For almost all the world their service bend 35
To Phoebus, and in vain my light I lend,
Gaz’d on unto my setting from my rise
Almost of none but of unquiet eyes.
_Night._ Then shine at full, fair queen, and by thy power
Produce a birth, to crown this happy hour, 40
Of nymphs and shepherds; let their songs discover,
Easy and sweet, who is a happy lover;
Or, if thou woo[3329] ’t, then call thine own Endymion
From the sweet flow’ry bed he lies upon,
On Latmus’ top, thy pale beams drawn away, 45
And of his long night let him make a day.
_Cynth._ Thou dream’st, dark queen; that fair boy was not mine.
Nor went I down to kiss him. Ease and wine
Have bred these bold tales: poets, when they rage,
Turn gods to men, and make an hour an age, 50
But I will give a greater state and glory,
And raise to time a nobler memory
Of what these lovers are.—Rise, rise, I say,
Thou power of deeps, thy surges laid away,
Neptune, great king of waters, and by me, 55
Be proud to be commanded!
NEPTUNE _rises_.
_Nept._ Cynthia, see
Thy word hath fetcht me hither: let me know
Why I ascend.
_Cynth._ Doth this majestic show
Give thee no knowledge yet?
_Nept._ Yes, now I see
Something intended, Cynthia, worthy thee. 60
Go on; I’ll be a helper.
_Cynth._ Hie thee, then,
And charge the Wind fly from his rocky den,
Let loose his subjects; only Boreas,
Too foul for our intentions as he was,
Still keep him fast chain’d: we must have none here 65
But vernal blasts and gentle winds appear,
Such as blow flowers, and through the glad boughs sing
Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring;
These are our music. Next, thy wat’ry race
Bring on in couples (we are pleas’d to grace 70
This noble night), each in their richest things
Your own deeps or the broken vessel brings.
Be prodigal, and I shall be as kind
And shine at full upon you.
_Nept._ Oh, the Wind!
Commanding Aeolus!
_Enter_ AEOLUS _out of a Rock._
_Aeol._ Great Neptune!
_Nept._ He. 75
_Aeol._ What is thy will?
_Nept._ We do command thee free
Favonius and thy milder winds, to wait
Upon our Cynthia; but tie Boreas strait,
He’s too rebellious.
_Aeol._ I shall do it. [_Exit_ AEOLUS.]
_Nept._ Do.
_Aeol._ [_within._] Great master of the flood and all below, 80
Thy full command has taken.—Oh, the Main!
Neptune!
_Nept._ Here.
[_Re-enter_ AEOLUS, _followed by_ FAVONIUS _and other Winds_.]
_Aeol._ Boreas has broken his chain,
And, struggling with the rest, has got away.
_Nept._ Let him alone, I’ll take him up at sea;
I will not long be thence. Go once again, 85
And call out of the bottoms of the main
Blue Proteus and the rest; charge them put on
Their greatest pearls, and the most sparkling stone
The beaten[3330] rock breeds; tell this night is done
By me a solemn honour to the Moon: 90
Fly, like a full sail.
_Aeol._ I am gone. [_Exit._]
_Cynth._ Dark Night,
Strike a full silence, do a thorough right
To this great chorus, that our music may
Touch high as Heaven, and make the east break day
At midnight. _Music._ 95
[FIRST] SONG.
[_During which_ PROTEUS _and other_ Sea-deities _enter._]
Cynthia, to thy power and thee
We obey.
Joy to this great company!
And no day
Come to steal this night away, 100
Till the rites of love are ended,
And the lusty bridegroom say,
Welcome, light, of all befriended!
Pace out, you watery powers below;
Let your feet, 105
Like the galleys when they row,
Even beat.
Let your unknown measures, set
To the still winds, tell to all,
That gods are come, immortal, great, 110
To honour this great nuptial. _The Measure._
SECOND SONG.
Hold back thy hours, dark Night, till we have done;
The Day will come too soon:
Young maids will curse thee, if thou steal’st away,
And leav’st their losses open to the day: 115
Stay, stay, and hide
The blushes of the bride.
Stay, gentle Night, and with thy darkness cover
The kisses of her lover;
Stay, and confound her tears and her shrill cryings,
Her weak denials, vows, and often-dyings; 121
Stay, and hide all:
But help not, though she call.
_Nept._ Great queen of us and Heaven, hear what I bring
To make this hour a full one.[3331]
_Cynth._ Speak, sea’s king. 125
_Nept._ The tunes my Amphitrite joys to have,
When she will dance upon the rising wave,
And court me as she sails. My Tritons, play
Music to lay a storm! I’ll lead the way.
_A Measure_, NEPTUNE _leads it_.
[THIRD] SONG.
To bed, to bed! Come, Hymen, lead the bride, 130
And lay her by her husband’s side;
Bring in the virgins every one,
That grieve to lie alone,
That they may kiss while they may say a maid;
To-morrow ’t will be other kist and said. 135
Hesperus, be long a-shining,
Whilst these lovers are a-twining.
_Aeol._ [_within._] Ho, Neptune!
_Nept._ Aeolus!
[_Re-enter_ AEOLUS.]
_Aeol._ The sea goes high,
Boreas hath rais’d a storm: go and apply
Thy trident; else, I prophesy, ere day 140
Many a tall ship will be cast away.
Descend with all the gods and all their power,
To strike a calm.
_Cynth._ [We thank you for this hour:
My favour to you all.][3332] To gratulate 145
So great a service, done at my desire,
Ye shall have many floods, fuller and higher
Than you have wisht for; and no ebb shall dare
To let the Day see where your dwellings are.
Now back unto your governments in haste, 150
Lest your proud charge should swell above the waste,
And win upon the island.
_Nept._ We obey.
NEPTUNE _descends and the_ Sea-Gods. [_Exeunt_ FAVONIUS _and other_
Winds.]
_Cynth._ Hold up thy head, dead Night; see’st thou not Day?
The east begins to lighten. I must down.
And give my brother place.
_Night._ Oh, I could frown 155
To see the Day, the Day that flings his light
Upon my kingdom and contemns old Night!
Let him go on and flame! I hope to see
Another wild-fire in his axle-tree,
And all fall drencht. But I forget;—speak, queen: 160
The Day grows on; I must no more be seen.
_Cynth._ Heave up thy drowsy head and see
A greater light, a greater majesty,
Between our set[3333] and us! Whip up the team:
The Day breaks here, and yon same flashing stream[3334] 165
Shot from the south. Say, which way wilt thou go?
_Night._ I’ll vanish into mists.
_Cynth._ I into Day.
_Exeunt_ NIGHT _and_ CYNTHIA.
_Finis Masque._
_King._ Take lights there!—Ladies, get the bride to bed.—
We will not see you laid; good night, Amintor:
We ’ll ease you of that tedious ceremony. 170
Were it my case, I should think time run slow.
If thou be’st noble, youth, get me a boy,
That may defend my kingdoms from my foes.
_Amin._ All happiness to you!
_King._ Good night, Melantius. _Exeunt._
ACT II
[SCENE I.][3335]
_Enter_ EVADNE, ASPATIA, DULA, _and other_ Ladies.
_Dula._ Madam, shall we undress you for this fight?
The wars are nak’d that you must make tonight.
_Evad._ You are very merry, Dula.
_Dula._ I should be
Far merrier, madam, if it were with me
As it is with you.
_Evad._ How ’s that?
_Dula._ That I might go 5
To bed with him wi’ th’ credit that you do.
_Evad._ Why, how now, wench?
_Dula._ Come, ladies, will you help?
_Evad._ I am soon undone.
_Dula._ And as soon done:
Good store of clothes will trouble you at both.
_Evad._ Art thou drunk, Dula?
_Dula._ Why, here ’s none but we. 10
_Evad._ Thou think ’st belike there is no modesty
When we’re alone.
_Dula._ Ay, by my troth, you hit my thoughts aright.
_Evad._ You prick me, lady.
_1 Lady._ ’T is against my will.
_Dula._ Anon you must endure more and lie still; 15
You ’re best to practise.
_Evad._ Sure, this wench is mad.
_Dula._ No, faith, this is a trick that I have had
Since I was fourteen.
_Evad._ ’T is high time to leave it.
_Dula._ Nay, now I ’ll keep it till the trick leave me.
A dozen wanton words put in your head 20
Will make you livelier in your husband’s bed.
_Evad._ Nay, faith, then take it.[3336]
_Dula._ Take it, madam! Where?
We all, I hope, will take it that are here.
_Evad._ Nay, then I ’ll give you o’er.
_Dula._ So will I make
The ablest man in Rhodes, or his heart ache. 25
_Evad._ Wilt take my place to-night?
_Dula._ I ’ll hold your cards
Against any two I know.
_Evad._ What wilt thou do?
_Dula._ Madam, we ’ll do ’t, and make ’em leave play too.
_Evad._ Aspatia, take her part.
_Dula._ I will refuse it:
She will pluck down a side;[3337] she does not use it. 30
_Evad._ Why, do, I prithee.
_Dula._ You will find the play
Quickly, because your head lies well that way.
_Evad._ I thank thee, Dula. Would thou couldst instil
Some of thy mirth into Aspatia!
Nothing but sad thoughts in her breast do dwell: 35
Methinks, a mean betwixt you would do well.
_Dula._ She is in love: hang me, if I were so,
But I could run[3338] my country. I love too
To do those things that people in love do.
_Asp._ It were a timeless[3339] smile should prove my cheek. 40
It were a fitter hour for me to laugh,
When at the altar the religious priest
Were pacifying the offended powers
With sacrifice, than now. This should have been
My rite;[3340] and all your hands have been employ’d 45
In giving me a spotless offering
To young Amintor’s bed, as we are now
For you. Pardon, Evadne: would my worth
Were great as yours, or that the King, or he,
Or both, thought so! Perhaps he found me worthless: 50
But till he did so, in these ears of mine,
These credulous ears, he pour’d the sweetest words
That art or love could frame. If he were false,
Pardon it, Heaven! and, if I did want
Virtue, you safely may forgive that too; 55
For I have lost none that I had from you.
_Evad._ Nay, leave this sad talk, madam.
_Asp._ Would I could!
Then I should leave the cause.
_Evad._ See, if you have not spoil’d all Dula’s mirth!
_Asp._ Thou think ’st thy heart hard; but, if thou be’st caught, 60
Remember me; thou shalt perceive a fire
Shot suddenly into thee.
_Dula._ That ’s not so good;
Let ’em shoot anything but fire, I fear ’em not.
_Asp._ Well, wench, thou may’st be taken.
_Evad._ Ladies, good-night; I ’ll do the rest myself. 65
_Dula._ Nay, let your lord do some.
_Asp._ [_singing._]
Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismal yew—
_Evad._ That ’s one of your sad songs, madam.
_Asp._ Believe me, ’t is a very pretty one. 70
_Evad._ How is it, madam?
_Asp._ [_singing._]
Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismal yew;
Maidens, willow-branches bear;
Say I died true. 75
My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth:
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth!
_Evad._ Fie on ’t, madam! The words are so strange, they 80
Are able to make one dream of hobgoblins.—
“I could never have the power”—sing that, Dula.
_Dula._ [singing.]
I could never have the power
To love one above an hour,
But my heart would prompt mine eye 85
On some other man to fly.
Venus, fix mine eyes fast,
Or, if not, give me all that I shall see at last!
_Evad._ So, leave me now.
_Dula._ Nay, we must see you laid. 90
_Asp._ Madam, good night. May all the marriage-joys
That longing maids imagine in their beds
Prove so unto you! May no discontent
Grow ’twixt your love and you! but, if there do,
Inquire of me, and I will guide your moan; 95
Teach you an artificial[3341] way to grieve,
To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord
No worse than I; but, if you love so well,
Alas, you may displease him! so did I.
This is the last time you shall look on me.— 100
Ladies, farewell. As soon as I am dead,
Come all and watch one night about my hearse;
Bring each a mournful story and a tear,
To offer at it when I go to earth;
With flattering ivy clasp my coffin round; 105
Write on my brow my fortune; let my bier
Be borne by virgins, that shall sing by course[3342]
The truth of maids and perjuries of men.
_Evad._ Alas, I pity thee.
_All._ Madam, good night. _Exit_ EVADNE.
_1 Lady._ Come, we ’ll let in the bridegroom.
_Dula._ Where’s my lord? 110
_1 Lady._ Here, take this light.
_Enter_ AMINTOR.
_Dula._ You ’ll find her in the dark.
_1 Lady._ Your lady ’s scarce a-bed yet; you must help her.
_Asp._ Go, and be happy in your lady’s love.
May all the wrongs that you have done to me
Be utterly forgotten in my death! 115
I ’ll trouble you no more; yet I will take
A parting kiss, and will not be denied. [_Kisses_ AMINTOR.]
You ’ll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep
When I am laid in earth, though you yourself
Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself 120
Into this willow-garland, and am prouder
That I was once your love, though now refus’d,
Than to have had another true to me.
So with my prayers I leave you, and must try
Some yet unpractis’d way to grieve and die. _Exit._ 125
_Dula._ Come, ladies, will you go?
_All._ Good night, my lord.
_Amin._ Much happiness unto you all! _Exeunt_ [DULA _and_] Ladies.
I did that lady wrong. Methinks, I feel
A grief shoot suddenly through all my veins;
Mine eyes rain: this is strange at such a time. 130
It was the King first mov’d me to ’t; but he
Has not my will in keeping. Why do I
Perplex myself thus? Something whispers me,
Go not to bed. My guilt is not so great
As mine own conscience, too sensible, 135
Would make me think; I only brake a promise,
And ’t was the King that forc’d me. Timorous flesh,
Why shak’st thou so? Away, my idle fears!
_Re-enter_ EVADNE.
Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye
Can blot away the sad remembrance 140
Of all these things.—Oh, my Evadne, spare
That tender body; let it not take cold!
The vapours of the night will not fall here.
To bed, my love: Hymen will punish us
For being slack performers of his rites. 145
Cam’st thou to call me?
_Evad._ No.
_Amin._ Come, come, my love,
And let us lose ourselves to one another.
Why art thou up so long?
_Evad._ I am not well.
_Amin._ To bed then; let me wind thee in these arms
Till I have banisht sickness.
_Evad._ Good my lord, 150
I cannot sleep.
_Amin._ Evadne, we will watch;
I mean no sleeping.
_Evad._ I ’ll not go to bed.
_Amin._ I prithee, do.
_Evad._ I will not for the world.
_Amin._ Why, my dear love?
_Evad._ Why! I have sworn I will not.
_Amin._ Sworn!
_Evad._ Ay.
_Amin._ How? Sworn, Evadne! 155
_Evad._ Yes, sworn, Amintor; and will swear again,
If you will wish to hear me.
_Amin._ To whom have you sworn this?
_Evad._ If I should name him, the matter were not great.
_Amin._ Come, this is but the coyness of a bride. 160
_Evad._ The coyness of the bride!
_Amin._ How prettily
That frown becomes thee!
_Evad._ Do you like it so?
_Amin._ Thou canst not dress thy face in such a look
But I shall like it.
_Evad._ What look likes[3343] you best?
_Amin._ Why do you ask? 165
_Evad._ That I may show you one less pleasing to you.
_Amin._ How ’s that?
_Evad._ That I may show you one less pleasing to you.
_Amin._ I prithee, put thy jests in milder looks;
It shows as thou wert angry.
_Evad._ So perhaps 170
I am indeed.
_Amin._ Why, who has done thee wrong?
Name me the man, and by thyself I swear,
Thy yet unconquered self, I will revenge thee!
_Evad._ Now I shall try thy truth. If thou dost love me,
Thou weigh’st not anything compar’d with me: 175
Life, honour, joys eternal, all delights
This world can yield, or hopeful people feign,
Or in the life to come, are light as air
To a true lover when his lady frowns,
And bids him, “Do this.” Wilt thou kill this man? 180
Swear, my Amintor, and I ’ll kiss the sin
Off from thy lips.
_Amin._ I wo’ not swear, sweet love.
Till I do know the cause.
_Evad._ I would thou wouldst.
Why, it is thou that wrong’st me; I hate thee;
Thou should’st have kill’d thyself. 185
_Amin._ If I should know that, I should quickly kill
The man you hated.
_Evad._ Know it, then, and do ’t.
_Amin._ Oh, no! what look soe’er thou shalt put on
To try my faith, I shall not think thee false;
I cannot find one blemish in thy face, 190
Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to bed.
If you have sworn to any of the virgins
That were your old companions, to preserve
Your maidenhead a night, it may be done
Without this means.
_Evad._ A maidenhead, Amintor, 195
At my years!
_Amin._ Sure she raves; this cannot be
Her natural temper.—Shall I call thy maids?
Either thy healthful sleep hath left thee long,
Or else some fever rages in thy blood.
_Evad._ Neither, Amintor: think you I am mad, 200
Because I speak the truth?
_Amin._ [Is this the truth?][3344]
Will you not lie with me to-night?
_Evad._ To-night!
You talk as if [you thought][3344] I would hereafter.
_Amin._ Hereafter! yes, I do.
_Evad._ You are deceiv’d.
Put off amazement, and with patience mark 205
What I shall utter, for the oracle
Knows nothing truer. ’T is not for a night
Or two that I forbear thy bed, but ever.
_Amin._ I dream. Awake, Amintor!
_Evad._ You hear right:
I sooner will find out the beds of snakes, 210
And with my youthful blood warm their cold flesh,
Letting them curl themselves about my limbs,
Than sleep one night with thee. This is not feign’d,
Nor sounds it like the coyness of a bride.
_Amin._ Is flesh so earthly to endure all this? 215
Are these the joys of marriage? Hymen, keep
This story, that will make succeeding youth
Neglect thy ceremonies, from all ears;
Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine
To after-ages: we will scorn thy laws, 220
If thou no better bless them. Touch the heart
Of her that thou hast sent me, or the world
Shall know; there ’s not an altar that will smoke
In praise of thee; we will adopt us sons;
Then virtue shall inherit, and not blood. 225
If we do lust, we’ll take the next we meet,
Serving ourselves as other creatures do;
And never take note of the female more,
Nor of her issue.—I do rage in vain;
She can but jest.—Oh, pardon me, my love! 230
So dear the thoughts are that I hold of thee,
That I must break forth. Satisfy my fear;
It is a pain, beyond the hand of death,
To be in doubt. Confirm it with an oath,
If this be true.
_Evad._ Do you invent the form; 235
Let there be in it all the binding words
Devils and conjurers can put together,
And I will take it. I have sworn before,
And here by all things holy do again,
Never to be acquainted with thy bed! 240
Is your doubt over now?
_Amin._ I know too much; would I had doubted still!
Was ever such a marriage-night as this!
You powers above, if you did ever mean
Man should be us’d thus, you have thought a way 245
How he may bear himself, and save his honour:
Instruct me in it; for to my dull eyes
There is no mean, no moderate course to run;
I must live scorn’d, or be a murderer.
Is there a third? Why is this night so calm? 250
Why does not Heaven speak in thunder to us,
And drown her voice?
_Evad._ This rage will do no good.
_Amin._ Evadne, hear me. Thou hast ta’en an oath,
But such a rash one, that to keep it were
Worse than to swear it. Call it back to thee; 255
Such vows as that never ascend to Heaven;
A tear or two will wash it quite away.
Have mercy on my youth, my hopeful youth,
If thou be pitiful! for, without boast,
This land was proud of me. What lady was there, 260
That men call’d fair and virtuous in this isle,
That would have shunn’d my love? It is in thee
To make me hold this worth. Oh, we vain men,
That trust [out][3345] all our reputation
To rest upon the weak and yielding hand 265
Of feeble woman! But thou art not stone;
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doth dwell
The spirit of love; thy heart cannot be hard.
Come, lead me from the bottom of despair
To all the joys thou hast; I know thou wilt; 270
And make me careful lest the sudden change
O’ercome my spirits.
_Evad._ When I call back this oath,
The pains of hell environ me!
_Amin._ I sleep, and am too temperate. Come to bed!
Or by those hairs, which, if thou hadst a soul 275
Like to thy locks, were threads for kings to wear
About their arms——
_Evad._ Why, so perhaps they are.
_Amin._ I’ll drag thee to my bed, and make thy tongue
Undo this wicked oath, or on thy flesh
I’ll print a thousand wounds to let out life! 280
_Evad._ I fear thee not: do what thou dar’st to me!
Every ill-sounding word or threat’ning look
Thou shew’st to me will be reveng’d at full.
_Amin._ It will not sure, Evadne?
_Evad._ Do not you hazard that.
_Amin._ Ha’ ye your champions? 285
_Evad._ Alas, Amintor, think’st thou I forbear
To sleep with thee, because I have put on
A maiden’s strictness? Look upon these cheeks,
And thou shalt find the hot and rising blood
Unapt for such a vow. No; in this heart 290
There dwells as much desire and as much will
To put that wished[3346] act in practice as ever yet
Was known to woman; and they have been shown
Both. But it was the folly of thy youth
To think this beauty, to what land[3347] soe’er 295
It shall be call’d, shall stoop to any second.
I do enjoy the best, and in that height
Have sworn to stand or die. You guess the man.
_Amin._ No; let me know the man that wrongs me so,
That I may cut his body into motes, 300
And scatter it before the northern wind.
_Evad._ You dare not strike him.
_Amin._ Do not wrong me so.
Yes, if his body were a poisonous plant
That it were death to touch, I have a soul
Will throw me on him.
_Evad._ Why, ’tis the King.
_Amin._ The King! 305
_Evad._ What will you do now?
_Amin._ ’Tis not the King!
_Evad._ What did he make this match for, dull Amintor?
_Amin._ Oh, thou hast nam’d a word, that wipes away
All thoughts revengeful! In that sacred name,
“The King,” there lies a terror. What frail man 310
Dares lift his hand against it? Let the gods
Speak to him when they please: till when, let us
Suffer and wait.
_Evad._ Why should you fill yourself so full of heat,
And haste so to my bed? I am no virgin. 315
_Amin._ What devil put it in thy fancy, then,
To marry me?
_Evad._ Alas, I must have one
To father children, and to bear the name
Of husband to me, that my sin may be
More honourable!
_Amin._ What strange thing am I! 320
_Evad._ A miserable one; one that myself
Am sorry for.
_Amin._ Why, show it then in this:
If thou hast pity, though thy love be none,
Kill me; and all true lovers, that shall live
In after ages crost in their desires, 325
Shall bless thy memory, and call thee good,
Because such mercy in thy heart was found,
To rid[3348] a ling’ring wretch.
_Evad._ I must have one
To fill thy room again, if thou wert dead;
Else, by this night, I would! I pity thee. 330
_Amin._ These strange and sudden injuries have fall’n
So thick upon me, that I lose all sense
Of what they are. Methinks, I am not wrong’d;
Nor is it aught, if from the censuring world
I can but hide it. Reputation, 335
Thou art a word, no more!—But thou hast shown
An impudence so high, that to the world
I fear thou wilt betray or shame thyself.
_Evad._ To cover shame, I took thee; never fear
That I would blaze[3349] myself.
_Amin._ Nor let the King 340
Know I conceive he wrongs me; then mine honour
Will thrust me into action, though[3350] my flesh
Could bear with patience. And it is some ease
To me in these extremes, that I know this
Before I toucht thee; else, had all the sins 345
Of mankind stood betwixt me and the King,
I had gone through ’em to his heart and thine.
I have lost[3351] one desire: ’t is not his crown
Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolve[3352]
He has dishonour’d thee. Give me thy hand: 350
Be careful of thy credit, and sin close;[3353]
’T is all I wish. Upon thy chamber-floor
I’ll rest to-night, that morning visitors
May think we did as married people use: 354
And prithee, smile upon me when they come,
And seem to toy, as if thou hadst been pleased
With what we did.
_Evad._ Fear not; I will do this.
_Amin._ Come, let us practise; and, as wantonly
As ever loving[3354] bride and bridegroom met,
Let’s laugh and enter here.
_Evad._ I am content. 360
_Amin._ Down all the swellings of my troubled heart!
When we walk thus intwin’d, let all eyes see
If ever lovers better did agree. _Exeunt._
[SCENE II.][3355]
_Enter_ ASPATIA, ANTIPHILA, _and_ OLYMPIAS.
_Asp._ Away, you are not sad! force it no further.
Good gods, how well you look! Such a full colour
Young bashful brides put on: sure, you are new married!
_Ant._ Yes, madam, to your grief.
_Asp._ Alas, poor wenches!
Go learn to love first; learn to lose yourselves; 5
Learn to be flattered, and believe and bless
The double tongue that did it; make a faith
Out of the miracles of ancient lovers,
Such as spake truth and died in ’t; and, like me,
Believe all faithful, and be miserable. 10
Did you ne’er love yet, wenches? Speak, Olympias:
Thou hast an easy temper, fit for stamp.
_Olym._ Never.
_Asp._ Nor you, Antiphila?
_Ant._ Nor I.
_Asp._ Then, my good girls, be more than women, wise;
At least be more than I was; and be sure 15
You credit any thing the light gives life to,
Before a man. Rather believe the sea
Weeps for the ruin’d merchant, when he roars;
Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sails,
When the strong cordage cracks; rather, the sun 20
Comes but to kiss the fruit in wealthy autumn,
When all falls blasted. If you needs must love,
(Forc’d by ill fate,) take to your maiden-bosoms
Two dead-cold aspics, and of them make lovers.
They cannot flatter nor forswear; one kiss 25
Makes a long peace for all. But man—
Oh, that beast man! Come, let’s be sad, my girls:
That down-cast of thine eye, Olympias,
Shows a fine sorrow.—Mark, Antiphila;
Just such another was the nymph Oenone, 30
When Paris brought home Helen.—Now, a tear;
And then thou art a piece expressing fully
The Carthage queen, when from a cold sea-rock,
Full with her sorrow, she tied fast her eyes 34
To the fair Trojan ships; and, having lost them,
Just as thine does, down stole a tear.—Antiphila,
What would this wench do, if she were Aspatia?
Here she would stand, till some more pitying god
Turn’d her to marble!—’T is enough, my wench!
Show me the piece of needlework you wrought.
_Ant._ Of Ariadne, madam?
_Asp._ Yes, that piece.— 41
This should be Theseus; h’as a cozening face.—
You meant him for a man?
_Ant._ He was so, madam.
_Asp._ Why, then, ’tis well enough.—Never look back;
You have a full wind and a false heart, Theseus.— 45
Does not the story say, his keel was split,
Or his masts spent, or some kind rock or other
Met with his vessel?
_Ant._ Not as I remember.
_Asp._ It should ha’ been so. Could the gods know this,
And not, of all their number, raise a storm? 50
But they are all as evil. This false smile
Was well exprest; just such another caught me.—
You shall not go so.[3356]—
Antiphila, in this place work a quicksand,
And over it a shallow smiling water, 55
And his ship ploughing it; and then a Fear:
Do that Fear to the life,[3357] wench.
_Ant._ ’T will wrong the story.
_Asp._ ’T will make the story, wrong’d by wanton poets,
Live long and be believ’d. But where ’s the lady?
_Ant._ There, madam. 60
_Asp._ Fie, you have mist it here, Antiphila;
You are much mistaken, wench.
These colours are not dull and pale enough
To show a soul so full of misery
As this sad lady’s was. Do it by me, 65
Do it again by me, the lost Aspatia;
And you shall find all true but the wild island.
I stand upon the sea-breach now, and think[3358]
Mine arms thus, and mine hair blown with the wind,
Wild as that desert; and let all about me 70
Tell that I am forsaken. Do my face
(If thou had’st ever feeling of a sorrow)
Thus, thus, Antiphila; strive to make me look
Like Sorrow’s monument; and the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks 75
Groan with continual surges; and behind me,
Make all a desolation. See, see, wenches,
A miserable life[3359] of this poor picture!
_Olym._ Dear madam!
_Asp._ I have done. Sit down; and let us
Upon that point fix all our eyes, that point there. 80
Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden sadness
Give us new souls.
_Enter_ CALIANAX.
_Cal._ The King may do this, and he may not do it:
My child is wrong’d, disgrac’d.—Well, how now, huswives? 84
What, at your ease! Is this a time to sit still?
Up, you young lazy whores, up, or I ’ll swinge you!
_Olym._ Nay, good my lord—
_Cal._ You ’ll lie down shortly. Get you in, and work!
What, are you grown so resty you want heats?
We shall have some of the court-boys do that office. 90
_Ant._ My lord, we do no more than we are charg’d:
It is the lady’s pleasure we be thus
In grief she is forsaken.
_Cal._ There ’s a rogue too,
A young dissembling slave!—Well, get you in.—
I ’ll have a bout with that boy. ’T is high time
Now to be valiant: I confess my youth 96
Was never prone that way. What, made an ass!
A court-stale![3360] Well, I will be valiant,
And beat some dozen of these whelps; I will!
And there ’s another of ’em, a trim cheating soldier; 100
I ’ll maul that rascal; has out-brav’d me twice;
But now, I thank the gods, I am valiant.—
Go, get you in.—I ’ll take a course with all. _Exeunt._
ACT III
[SCENE I.][3361]
_Enter_ CLEON, STRATO, _and_ DIPHILUS.
_Cle._ Your sister is not up yet.
_Diph._ Oh, brides must take their morning’s rest; the night is
troublesome.
_Stra._ But not tedious.
_Diph._ What odds, he has not my sister’s (5) maidenhead to-night?
_Stra._ None; it’s odds against any bridegroom living, he ne’er gets
it while he lives.
_Diph._ You ’re merry with my sister; you ’ll please to allow me the
same freedom with (10) your mother.
_Stra._ She ’s at your service.
_Diph._ Then she ’s merry enough of herself; she needs no tickling.
Knock at the door.
_Stra._ We shall interrupt them. 15
_Diph._ No matter; they have the year before them.
[STRATO _knocks at the door_.]
Good morrow, sister. Spare yourself to-day;
The night will come again.
_Enter_ AMINTOR.
_Amin._ Who ’s there? My brother! I ’m no readier[3362] yet. 20
Your sister is but now up.
_Diph._ You look as you had lost your eyes tonight:
I think you ha’ not slept.
_Amin._ I’ faith I have not.
_Diph._ You have done better, then.
_Amin._ We ventur’d for a boy; when he is twelve, 25
’A shall command against the foes of Rhodes.
Shall we be merry?
_Stra._ You cannot; you want sleep.
_Amin._ ’T is true.—(_Aside._) But she,
As if she had drank Lethe, or had made
Even with Heaven, did fetch so still a sleep, 30
So sweet and sound——
_Diph._ What’s that?
_Amin._ Your sister frets
This morning; and does turn her eyes upon me,
As people on their headsman. She does chafe,
And kiss, and chafe again, and clap my cheeks:
She ’s in another world. 35
_Diph._ Then I had lost: I was about to lay
You had not got her maidenhead to-night.
_Amin._ [_Aside._] Ha! does he not mock me? You ’d lost indeed;
I do not use to bungle.
_Cleo._ You do deserve her.
_Amin._ (_Aside._) I laid my lips to hers, and that wild breath, 40
That was so rude and rough to me last night,
Was sweet as April. I ’ll be guilty too,
If these be the effects.
_Enter_ MELANTIUS.
_Mel._ Good day, Amintor; for to me the name
Of brother is too distant: we are friends, 45
And that is nearer.
_Amin._ Dear Melantius!
Let me behold thee. Is it possible?
_Mel._ What sudden gaze is this?
_Amin._ ’T is wondrous strange!
_Mel._ Why does thine eye desire so strict a view
Of that it knows so well? There ’s nothing here 50
That is not thine.
_Amin._ I wonder much, Melantius,
To see those noble looks, that make me think
How virtuous thou art: and, on the sudden,
’T is strange to me thou shouldst have worth and honour;
Or not be base, and false, and treacherous, 55
And every ill. But——
_Mel._ Stay, stay, my friend;
I fear this sound will not become our loves.
No more; embrace me.[3363]
_Amin._ Oh, mistake me not!
I know thee to be full of all those deeds 59
That we frail men call good; but by the course
Of nature thou shouldst be as quickly chang’d
As are the winds; dissembling as the sea,
That now wears brows as smooth as virgins’ be,
Tempting the merchant to invade his face,
And in an hour calls his billows up, 65
And shoots ’em at the sun, destroying all
’A carries on him.—(_Aside._) Oh, how near am I
To utter my sick thoughts!
_Mel._ But why, my friend, should I be so by nature?
_Amin._ I have wed thy sister, who hath virtuous thoughts 70
Enough for one whole family; and it is strange
That you should feel no want.
_Mel._ Believe me, this is compliment too cunning for me.
_Diph._ What should I be then by the course of nature, 74
They having both robb’d me of so much virtue?
_Stra._ Oh, call the bride, my Lord Amintor,
That we may see her blush, and turn her eyes down.
It is the prettiest sport!
_Amin._ Evadne!
_Evad._ (_within._) My lord?
_Amin._ Come forth, my love;
Your brothers do attend to wish you joy. 80
_Evad._ [_within._] I am not ready yet.
_Amin._ Enough, enough.
_Evad._ [_within._] They ’ll mock me.
_Amin._ Faith, thou shalt come in.
_Enter_ EVADNE.
_Mel._ Good morrow, sister. He that understands
Whom you have wed, need not to wish you joy;
You have enough: take heed you be not proud.
_Diph._ Oh, sister, what have you done? 86
_Evad._ I done! why, what have I done?
_Stra._ My Lord Amintor swears you are no maid now.
_Evad._ Pish!
_Stra._ I’ faith, he does.
_Evad._ I knew I should be mockt. 90
_Diph._ With a truth.
_Evad._ If ’t were to do again,
In faith I would not marry.
_Amin._ (_Aside._) Nor I, by Heaven!
_Diph._ Sister, Dula swears
She heard you cry two rooms off.
_Evad._ Fie, how you talk!
_Diph._ Let ’s see you walk, Evadne. By my troth, 95
You ’re spoil’d.[3364]
_Mel._ Amintor.—
_Amin._ Ha!
_Mel._ Thou art sad.
_Amin._ Who, I? I thank you for that.
Shall Diphilus, thou, and I, sing a catch?
_Mel._ How! 100
_Amin._ Prithee, let ’s.
_Mel._ Nay, that ’s too much the other way.
_Amin._ I ’m so light’ned with my happiness!—
How dost thou, love? Kiss me.
_Evad._ I cannot love you, you tell tales of me. 105
_Amin._ Nothing but what becomes us.—Gentlemen,
Would you had all such wives, and all the world,
That I might be no wonder! You ’re all sad:
What, do you envy me? I walk, methinks,
On water, and ne’er sink, I am so light. 110
_Mel._ ’T is well you are so.
_Amin._ Well! how can I be other,
When she looks thus?—Is there no music there?
Let ’s dance.
_Mel._ Why this is strange, Amintor!
_Amin._ I do not know myself; yet I could wish
My joy were less. 115
_Diph._ I ’ll marry too, if it will make one thus.
_Evad._ (_Aside._) Amintor, hark.
_Amin._ What says my love?—I must obey.
_Evad._ You do it scurvily, ’t will be perceiv’d.
_Cleo._ My lord, the King is here. 120
_Enter_ KING _and_ LYSIPPUS.
_Amin._ Where?
_Stra._ And his brother.
_King._ Good morrow, all!—
Amintor, joy on joy fall thick upon thee!—
And, madam, you are alter’d since I saw you;
I must salute you; you are now another’s. 126
How lik’d you your night’s rest?
_Evad._ Ill, sir.
_Amin._ Indeed,
She took but little.
_Lys._ You ’ll let her take more,
And thank her too, shortly.
_King._ Amintor, wert thou truly honest till 130
Thou wert married?
_Amin._ Yes, sir.
_King._ Tell me, then, how shows
The sport unto thee?
_Amin._ Why, well.
_King._ What did you do?
_Amin._ No more, nor less, than other couples use;
You know what ’t is; it has but a coarse, name.
_King._ But, prithee, I should think, by her black eye, 135
And her red cheek, she should be quick and stirring
In this same business; ha?
_Amin._ I cannot tell;
I ne’er tried other, sir; but I perceive
She is as quick as you delivered.
_King._ Well, you ’ll trust me then, Amintor, to choose 140
A wife for you again?
_Amin._ No, never, sir.
_King._ Why, like you this so ill?
_Amin._ So well I like her.
For this I bow my knee in thanks to you,
And unto Heaven will pay my grateful tribute
Hourly; and do hope we shall draw out 145
A long contented life together here,
And die both, full of grey hairs, in one day:
For which the thanks is yours. But if the powers
That rule us please to call her first away,
Without pride spoke, this world holds not a wife 150
Worthy to take her room.
_King._ I do not like this.—All forbear the room,
But you, Amintor, and your lady.
[_Exeunt all but the_ KING, AMINTOR, _and_ EVADNE.]
I have some speech with you, that may concern
Your after living well. 155
_Amin._ [_Aside._] ’A will not tell me that he lies with her!
If he do, something heavenly stay my heart,
For I shall be apt to thrust this arm of mine
To acts unlawful!
_King._ You will suffer me
To talk with her, Amintor, and not have 160
A jealous pang?
_Amin._ Sir, I dare trust my wife
With whom she dares to talk, and not be jealous. [_Retires._]
_King._ How do you like Amintor?
_Evad._ As I did, sir.
_King._ How ’s that?
_Evad._ As one that, to fulfil your will and pleasure, 165
I have given leave to call me wife and love.
_King._ I see there is no lasting faith in sin;
They that break word with Heaven will break again
With all the world, and so dost thou with me.
_Evad._ How, sir?
_King._ This subtle woman’s ignorance 170
Will not excuse you: thou hast taken oaths,
So great that, methought, they did misbecome
A woman’s mouth, that thou wouldst ne’er enjoy
A man but me.
_Evad._ I never did swear so;
You do me wrong.
_King._ Day and night have heard it. 175
_Evad._ I swore indeed that I would never love
A man of lower place; but, if your fortune
Should throw you from this height, I bade you trust
I would forsake you, and would bend to him
That won your throne. I love with my ambition, 180
Not with my eyes. But, if I ever yet
Toucht any other, leprosy light here
Upon my face! which for your royalty
I would not stain!
_King._ Why, thou dissemblest, and
It is in me to punish thee.
_Evad._ Why, it is in me, 185
Then, not to love you, which will more afflict
Your body than your punishment can mine.
_King._ But thou hast let Amintor lie with thee.
_Evad._ I ha’ not.
_King._ Impudence! he says himself so.
_Evad._ ’A lies.
_King._ ’A does not.
_Evad._ By this light, he does, 190
Strangely and basely! and I ’ll prove it so.
I did not only shun him for a night,
But told him I would never close with him.
_King._ Speak lower; it is false.
_Evad._ I am no man
To answer with a blow; or, if I were, 195
You are the King. But urge me not; ’t is most true.
_King._ Do not I know the uncontrolled thoughts
That youth brings with him, when his blood is high
With expectation and desire of that
He long hath waited for? Is not his spirit, 200
Though he be temperate, of a valiant strain
As this our age hath known? What could he do,
If such a sudden speech had met his blood,
But ruin thee for ever, if he had not kill’d thee?
He could not bear it thus: he is as we, 205
Or any other wrong’d man.
_Evad._ It is dissembling.
_King._ Take him! farewell: henceforth I am thy foe;
And what disgraces I can blot thee with, look for.
_Evad._ Stay, sir!—Amintor!—You shall hear.—Amintor!
_Amin._ [_coming forward._] What, my love. 210
_Evad._ Amintor, thou hast an ingenious[3365] look,
And shouldst be virtuous: it amazeth me
That thou canst make such base malicious lies!
_Amin._ What, my dear wife?
_Evad._ Dear wife! I do despise thee.
Why, nothing can be baser than to sow 215
Dissension amongst lovers.
_Amin._ Lovers! Who?
_Evad._ The king and me—
_Amin._ Oh, God!
_Evad._ Who should live long, and love without distaste,
Were it not for such pickthanks[3366] as thyself.
Did you lie with me? Swear now, and be punisht 220
In hell for this!
_Amin._ The faithless sin I made
To fair Aspatia is not yet reveng’d;
It follows me.—I will not lose a word
To this vile woman: but to you, my King, 224
The anguish of my soul thrusts out this truth:
You ’re a tyrant! and not so much to wrong
An honest man thus, as to take a pride
In talking with him of it.
_Evad._ Now, sir, see
How loud this fellow lied!
_Amin._ You that can know to wrong, should know how men 230
Must right themselves. What punishment is due
From me to him that shall abuse my bed?
Is it not death? Nor can that satisfy,
Unless I send your limbs[3367] through all the land,
To show how nobly I have freed myself. 235
_King._ Draw not thy sword; thou know’st I cannot fear
A subject’s hand; but thou shalt feel the weight
Of this, if thou dost rage.
_Amin._ The weight of that!
If you have any worth, for Heaven’s sake, think
I fear not swords; for, as you are mere man, 240
I dare as easily kill you for this deed,
As you dare think to do it. But there is
Divinity about you that strikes dead
My rising passions: as you are my King,
I fall before you, and present my sword 245
To cut mine own flesh, if it be your will.
Alas, I am nothing but a multitude
Of walking griefs! Yet, should I murder you,
I might before the world take the excuse
Of madness: for, compare my injuries, 250
And they will well appear too sad a weight
For reason to endure. But, fall I first
Amongst my sorrows, ere my treacherous hand
Touch holy things! But why (I know not what
I have to say), why did you choose out me 255
To make thus wretched? There were thousands, fools
Easy to work on, and of state enough,
Within the island.
_Evad._ I would not have a fool;
It were no credit for me.
_Amin._ Worse and worse! 259
Thou, that dar’st talk unto thy husband thus,
Profess thyself a whore, and, more than so,
Resolve to be so still!——It is my fate
To bear and bow beneath a thousand griefs,
To keep that little credit with the world!—
But there were wise ones too; you might have ta’en 265
Another.
_King._ No: for I believ’d thee honest,
As thou wert valiant.
_Amin._ All the happiness[3368]
Bestow’d upon me turns into disgrace.
Gods, take your honesty again, for I 270
Am loaden with it!—Good my lord the King,
Be private in it.
_King._ Thou mayst live, Amintor,
Free as thy king, if thou wilt wink at this,
And be a means that we may meet in secret.
_Amin._ A bawd! Hold, hold, my breast! A bitter curse 275
Seize me, if I forget not all respects
That are religious, on another word
Sounded like that; and through a sea of sins
Will wade to my revenge, though I should call
Pains here and after life upon my soul! 280
_King._ Well, I am resolute[3369] you lay not with her;
And so I leave you. _Exit._
_Evad._ You must needs be prating;
And see what follows!
_Amin._ Prithee, vex me not.
Leave me; I am afraid some sudden start
Will pull a murder on me.
_Evad._ I am gone; 285
I love my life well. _Exit._
_Amin._ I hate mine as much.
This ’t is to break a troth! I should be glad,
If all this tide of grief would make me mad. _Exit._
[SCENE II.][3370]
_Enter_ MELANTIUS.
_Mel._ I ’ll know the cause of all Amintor’s griefs,
Or friendship shall be idle.
_Enter_ CALIANAX.
_Cal._ Oh, Melantius,
My daughter will die!
_Mel._ Trust me, I am sorry:
Would thou hadst ta’en her room!
_Cal._ Thou art a slave,
A cut-throat slave, a bloody treacherous slave! 5
_Mel._ Take heed, old man; thou wilt be heard to rave,
And lose thine offices.
_Cal._ I am valiant grown
At all these years, and thou art but a slave!
_Mel._ Leave!
Some company will come, and I respect 10
Thy years, not thee, so much, that I could wish
To laugh at thee alone.
_Cal._ I ’ll spoil your mirth:
I mean to fight with thee. There lie, my cloak.
This was my father’s sword, and he durst fight.
Are you prepar’d?
_Mel._ Why wilt thou dote thyself 15
Out of thy life? Hence, get thee to bed,
Have careful looking-to, and eat warm things,
And trouble not me: my head is full of thoughts
More weighty than thy life or death can be.
_Cal._ You have a name in war, where you stand safe 20
Amongst a multitude; but I will try
What you dare do unto a weak old man
In single fight. You will give ground, I fear.
Come, draw.
_Mel._ I will not draw, unless thou pull’st thy death 25
Upon thee with a stroke. There ’s no one blow,
That thou canst give hath strength enough to kill me.
Tempt me not so far, then: the power of earth
Shall not redeem thee.
_Cal._ [_Aside._] I must let him alone;
He ’s stout and able; and, to say the truth, 30
However I may set a face and talk,
I am not valiant. When I was a youth,
I kept my credit with a testy trick
I had ’mongst cowards, but durst never fight.
_Mel._ I will not promise to preserve your life,
If you do stay.
_Cal._ [_Aside._] I would give half my land 36
That I durst fight with that proud man a little.
If I had men to hold him, I would beat him
Till he askt me mercy.
_Mel._ Sir, will you be gone?
_Cal._ [_Aside._] I dare not stay; but I will go home, and beat 40
My servants all over for this. _Exit._
_Mel._ This old fellow haunts me.
But the distracted carriage of mine Amintor
Takes deeply on me.[3371] I will find the cause: 44
I fear his conscience cries, he wrong’d Aspatia.
_Enter_ AMINTOR.
_Amin._ [_Aside._] Men’s eyes are not so subtle to perceive
My inward misery: I bear my grief
Hid from the world. How art thou wretched then?
For aught I know, all husbands are like me;
And every one I talk with of his wife 50
Is but a well dissembler of his woes,
As I am. Would I knew it! for the rareness
Afflicts me now.
_Mel._ Amintor, we have not enjoy’d our 54
friendship of late, for we were wont to change
our souls in talk.
_Amin._ Melantius, I can tell thee a good jest
of Strato and a lady the last day.
_Mel._ How was ’t?
_Amin._ Why, such an odd one! 60
_Mel._ I have long’d to speak with you; not of
an idle jest, that’s forc’d, but of matter you are
bound to utter to me.
_Amin._ What is that, my friend?
_Mel._ I have observ’d your words fall from your tongue 65
Wildly; and all your carriage
Like one that strove to shew his merry mood,
When he were ill dispos’d. You were not wont
To put such scorn into your speech, or wear
Upon your face ridiculous jollity. 70
Some sadness sits here, which your cunning would
Cover o’er with smiles, and ’t will not be. What is it?
_Amin._ A sadness here! What cause
Can fate provide for me to make me so? 74
Am I not lov’d through all this isle? The King
Rains greatness on me. Have I not received
A lady to my bed, that in her eye
Keeps mounting fire, and on her tender cheeks
Inevitable[3372] colour, in her heart
A prison for all virtue? Are not you, 80
Which is above all joys, my constant friend?
What sadness can I have? No; I am light,
And feel the courses of my blood more warm
And stirring than they were. Faith, marry too;
And you will feel so unexprest a joy 85
In chaste embraces, that you will indeed
Appear another.
_Mel._ You may shape, Amintor,
Causes to cozen the whole world withal,
And you yourself too: but ’t is not like a friend
To hide your soul from me. ’T is not your nature 90
To be thus idle. I have seen you stand
As you were blasted ’midst of all your mirth;
Call thrice aloud, and then start, feigning joy
So coldly!—World, what do I here? A friend
Is nothing. Heaven, I would ha’ told that man
My secret sins! I ’ll search an unknown land, 96
And there plant friendship; all is withered here.
Come with a compliment! I would have fought,
Or told my friend ’a lied, ere sooth’d[3373] him so.—
Out of my bosom! 100
_Amin._ But there is nothing.
_Mel._ Worse and worse! farewell:
From this time have acquaintance, but no friend.
_Amin._ Melantius, stay: you shall know what that is.
_Mel._ See how you play’d with friendship! Be advis’d
How you give cause unto yourself to say 105
You ha’ lost a friend.
_Amin._ Forgive what I ha’ done;
For I am so o’ergone with injuries
Unheard of, that I lose consideration
Of what I ought to do. Oh, oh!
_Mel._ Do not weep.
What is ’t? May I once but know the man 110
Hath turn’d my friend thus!
_Amin._ I had spoke at first.
But that——
_Mel._ But what?
_Amin._ I held it most unfit
For you to know. Faith, do not know it yet.
_Mel._ Thou see’st my love, that will keep company 114
With thee in tears; hide nothing, then, from me;
For when I know the cause of thy distemper,
With mine old armour I ’ll adorn myself,
My resolution, and cut through thy foes,
Unto thy quiet, till I place thy heart
As peaceable as spotless innocence. 120
What is it?
_Amin._ Why, ’tis this——it is too big
To get out——let my tears make way awhile.
_Mel._ Punish me strangely, Heaven, if he escape
Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this!
_Amin._ Your sister——
_Mel._ Well said.
_Amin._ You will wish ’t unknown, 125
When you have heard it.
_Mel._ No.
_Amin._ Is much to blame,
And to the King has given her honour up,
And lives in whoredom with him.
_Mel._ How’s this?
Thou art run mad with injury indeed;
Thou couldst not utter this else. Speak again;
For I forgive it freely; tell thy griefs. 131
_Amin._ She’s wanton: I am loth to say, a whore,
Though it be true.
_Mel._ Speak yet again, before mine anger grow
Up beyond throwing down. What are thy griefs? 135
_Amin._ By all our friendship, these.
_Mel._ What, am I tame?
After mine actions, shall the name of friend
Blot all our family, and strike the brand
Of whore upon my sister, unreveng’d?
My shaking flesh, be thou a witness for me, 140
With what unwillingness I go to scourge
This railer, whom my folly hath call’d friend?
I will not take thee basely: thy sword [_Draws his sword._] 143
Hangs near thy hand: draw it, that I may whip
Thy rashness to repentance; draw thy sword!
_Amin._ Not on thee, did thine anger go as high
As the wild surges. Thou shouldst do me ease
Here and eternally, if thy noble hand
Would cut me from my sorrows.
_Mel._ This is base
And fearful.[3374] They that use to utter lies 150
Provide not blows but words to qualify[3375]
The men they wrong’d. Thou hast a guilty cause.
_Amin._ Thou pleasest me; for so much more like this
Will raise my anger up above my griefs,
(Which is a passion easier to be borne,) 155
And I shall then be happy.
_Mel._ Take, then, more
To raise thine anger: ’tis mere cowardice
Makes thee not draw; and I will leave thee dead,
However. But if thou art so much prest
With guilt and fear as not to dare to fight, 160
I’ll make thy memory loath’d, and fix a scandal
Upon thy name forever.
_Amin._ [_drawing his sword._] Then I draw,
As justly as our magistrates their swords
To cut offenders off. I knew before
’T would grate your ears; but it was base in you
To urge a weighty secret from your friend, 166
And then rage at it. I shall be at ease,
If I be kill’d; and, if you fall by me,
I shall not long outlive you.
_Mel._ Stay awhile.—
The name of friend is more than family, 170
Or all the world besides: I was a fool.
Thou searching human nature, that didst wake
To do me wrong, thou art inquisitive, 173
And thrusts me upon questions that will take
My sleep away! Would I had died, ere known
This sad dishonour!—Pardon me, my friend! [_Sheaths his sword._]
If thou wilt strike, here is a faithful heart;
Pierce it, for I will never heave my hand
To thine. Behold the power thou hast in me!
I do believe my sister is a whore, 180
A leprous one. Put up thy sword, young man.
_Amin._ How should I bear it, then, she being so?
I fear, my friend, that you will lose me shortly;
[_Sheaths his sword._]
And I shall do a foul act on myself,
Through these disgraces.
_Mel._ Better half the land 185
Were buried quick[3376] together. No, Amintor;
Thou shalt have ease. Oh, this adulterous King,
That drew her to ’t! Where got he the spirit
To wrong me so?
_Amin._ What is it, then, to me,
If it be wrong to you?
_Mel._ Why, not so much. 190
The credit of our house is thrown away.
But from his iron den I’ll waken Death,
And hurl him on this King. My honesty
Shall steel my sword: and on its horrid point
I’ll wear my cause, that shall amaze the eyes
Of this proud man, and be too glitt’ring 196
For him to look on.
_Amin._ I have quite undone my fame.
_Mel._ Dry up thy watery eyes,
And cast a manly look upon my face; 200
For nothing is so wild as I, thy friend,
Till I have freed thee. Still this swelling breast.
I go thus from thee, and will never cease
My vengeance till I find thy heart at peace.
_Amin._ It must not be so. Stay. Mine eyes would tell 205
How loth I am to this; but, love and tears,
Leave me awhile! for I have hazarded
All that this world calls happy.—Thou hast wrought
A secret from me, under name of friend,
Which art could ne’er have found, nor torture wrung 210
From out my bosom. Give it me again;
For I will find it, wheresoe’er it lies,
Hid in the mortal’st part. Invent a way
To give it back.
_Mel._ Why would you have it back?
I will to death pursue him with revenge, 215
_Amin._ Therefore I call it back from thee; for I know
Thy blood so high, that thou wilt stir in this,
And shame me to posterity. Take to thy weapon! [_Draws his sword._]
_Mel._ Hear thy friend, that bears more years than thou.
_Amin._ I will not hear: but draw, or I——
_Mel._ Amintor! 220
_Amin._ Draw, then; for I am full as resolute
As fame and honour can enforce me be:
I cannot linger. Draw!
_Mel._ I do. But is not
My share of credit equal with thine,
It I do stir?
_Amin._ No; for it will be call’d 225
Honour in thee to spill thy sister’s blood,
If she her birth abuse; and, on the King
A brave revenge: but on me, that have walkt
With patience in it, it will fix the name
Of fearful cuckold. Oh, that word! Be quick.
_Mel._ Then, join with me.
_Amin._ I dare not do a sin, 231
Or else I would. Be speedy.
_Mel._ Then, dare not fight with me; for that’s a sin.—
His grief distracts him.—Call thy thoughts again, 234
And to thyself pronounce the name of friend,
And see what that will work. I will not fight.
_Amin._ You must.
_Mel._ [_sheathing his sword._] I will be kill’d first.
Though my passions
Offered the like to you, ’t is not this earth
Shall buy my reason to it. Think awhile, 240
For you are (I must weep when I speak that)
Almost besides yourself.
_Amin._ [_sheathing his sword._] Oh, my soft temper!
So many sweet words from thy sister’s mouth,
I am afraid would make me take her to 245
Embrace, and pardon her. I am mad indeed,
And know not what I do. Yet, have a care
Of me in what thou dost.
_Mel._ Why, thinks my friend
I will forget his honour? or, to save
The bravery of our house, will lose his fame, 250
And fear to touch the throne of majesty?
_Amin._ A curse will follow that; but rather live
And suffer with me.
_Mel._ I will do what worth
Shall bid me, and no more.
_Amin._ Faith, I am sick,
And desperately I hope; yet, leaning thus, 255
I feel a kind of ease.
_Mel._ Come, take again
Your mirth about you.
_Amin._ I shall never do ’t.
_Mel._ I warrant you; look up; we’ll walk together;
Put thine arm here; all shall be well again.
_Amin._ Thy love (oh, wretched!) ay, thy love Melantius; 260
Why, I have nothing else.
_Mel._ Be merry, then. _Exeunt._
_Re-enter_ MELANTIUS.
_Mel._ This worthy young man may do violence
Upon himself; but I have cherisht him
To my best power, and sent him smiling from me,
To counterfeit again. Sword, hold thine edge;
My heart will never fail me.
_Enter_ DIPHILUS.
Diphilus! 266
Thou com’st as sent.
_Diph._ Yonder has been such laughing.
_Mel._ Betwixt whom?
_Diph._ Why, our sister and the King.
I thought their spleens would break; they laught us all
Out of the room. 270
_Mel._ They must weep, Diphilus.
_Diph._ Must they?
_Mel._ They must.
Thou art my brother; and, if I did believe
Thou hadst a base thought, I would rip it out,
Lie where it durst.
_Diph._ You should not; I would first
Mangle myself and find it.
_Mel._ That was spoke 275
According to our strain.[3377] Come, join thy hands to mine,
And swear a firmness to what project I
Shall lay before thee.
_Diph._ You do wrong us both.
People hereafter shall not say there past
A bond, more than our loves, to tie our lives
And deaths together. 281
_Mel._ It is as nobly said as I would wish.
Anon I’ll tell you wonders: we are wrong’d.
_Diph._ But I will tell you now, we’ll right ourselves.
_Mel._ Stay not: prepare the armour in my house; 285
And what friends you can draw unto our side,
Not knowing of the cause, make ready too.
Haste, Diphilus, the time requires it, haste!— _Exit_ DIPHILUS.
I hope my cause is just; I know my blood
Tells me it is; and I will credit it. 290
To take revenge, and lose myself withal,
Were idle; and to scape impossible,
Without I had the fort, which (misery!)
Remaining in the hands of my old enemy
Calianax——but I must have it. See 295
_Re-enter_ CALIANAX.
Where he comes shaking by me!—Good my lord,
Forget your spleen to me. I never wrong’d you,
But would have peace with every man.
_Cal._ ’T is well;
If I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet.
_Mel._ You’re touchy without all cause.
_Cal._ Do, mock me. 200
_Mel._ By mine honour, I speak truth.
_Cal._ Honour! where is ’t?
_Mel._ See, what starts you make
Into your idle hatred, to my love
And freedom to you. I come with resolution
To obtain a suit of you.
_Cal._ A suit of me! 205
’T is very like it should be granted, sir.
_Mel._ Nay, go not hence.
’T is this; you have the keeping of the fort,
And I would wish you, by the love you ought
To bear unto me, to deliver it 310
Into my hands.
_Cal._ I am in hope thou art mad,
To talk to me thus.
_Mel._ But there is a reason
To move you to it: I would kill the King,
That wrong’d you and your daughter.
_Cal._ Out, traitor!
_Mel._ Nay, but stay: I cannot scape, the deed once done, 315
Without I have this fort.
_Cal._ And should I help thee?
Now thy treacherous mind betrays itself.
_Mel._ Come, delay me not;
Give me a sudden answer, or already
Thy last is spoke! Refuse not offered love 320
When it comes clad in secrets.
_Cal._ [_Aside._] If I say
I will not, he will kill me; I do see ’t
Writ in his looks; and should I say I will,
He ’ll run and tell the King.—I do not shun
Your friendship, dear Melantius; but this cause
Is weighty: give me but an hour to think. 326
_Mel._ Take it.—[_Aside._] I know this goes unto the King;
But I am arm’d. _Exit._
_Cal._ Methinks I feel myself
But twenty now again. This fighting fool
Wants policy: I shall revenge my girl, 330
And make her red again. I pray my legs
Will last that pace that I will carry them:
I shall want breath before I find the King. _Exit._
ACT IV
[SCENE I.][3378]
_Enter_ MELANTIUS, EVADNE, _and_ Ladies.
_Mel._ Save you!
_Evad._ Save you, sweet brother.
_Mel._ In my blunt eye, methinks, you look, Evadne—
_Evad._ Come, you would make me blush.
_Mel._ I would, Evadne;
I shall displease my ends else.
_Evad._ You shall, if you
Commend me; I am bashful. Come, sir, how do 5
I look?
_Mel._ I would not have your women hear me
Break into commendation of you; ’t is not
Seemly.
_Evad._ Go wait me in the gallery. _Exeunt_ Ladies.
Now speak.
_Mel._ I ’ll lock the door first.
_Evad._ Why?
_Mel._ I will not have your gilded things, that dance 10
In visitation with their Milan skins,[3379]
Choke up my business.
_Evad._ You are strangely dispos’d, sir.
_Mel._ Good madam, not to make you merry.
_Evad._ No; if you praise me, it will make me sad.
_Mel._ Such a sad commendation I have for you.
_Evad._ Brother, 16
The court hath made you witty, and learn to riddle.
_Mel._ I praise the court for ’t: has it learn’d you nothing?
_Evad._ Me!
_Mel._ Ay, Evadne; thou art young and handsome,
A lady of a sweet complexion, 20
And such a flowing carriage, that it cannot
Choose but inflame a kingdom.
_Evad._ Gentle brother!
_Mel._ ’T is yet in thy repentance, foolish woman,
To make me gentle.
_Evad._ How is this?
_Mel._ ’T is base; 24
And I could blush, at these years, through all
My honour’d scars, to come to such a parley.
_Evad._ I understand you not.
_Mel._ You dare not, fool!
They that commit thy faults fly the remembrance.
_Evad._ My faults, sir! I would have you know, I care not 29
If they were written here, here in my forehead.
_Mel._ Thy body is too little for the story;
The lusts of which would fill another woman,
Though[3380] she had twins within her.
_Evad._ This is saucy:
Look you intrude no more! There ’s your way.
_Mel._ Thou art my way, and I will tread upon thee, 35
Till I find truth out.
_Evad._ What truth is that you look for?
_Mel._ Thy long-lost honour. Would the gods had set me
Rather to grapple with the plague, or stand
One of their loudest bolts! Come, tell me quickly,
Do it without enforcement, and take heed 40
You swell me not above my temper.
_Evad._ How, sir!
Where got you this report?
_Mel._ Where there was people,
In every place.
_Evad._ They and the seconds of it
Are base people: believe them not, they lied. 44
_Mel._ Do not play with mine anger; do not, wretch! [_Seizes her._]
I come to know that desperate fool that drew thee
From thy fair life. Be wise, and lay him open.
_Evad._ Unhand me, and learn manners! Such another
Forgetfulness forfeits your life.
_Mel._ Quench me this mighty humour, and then tell me 50
Whose whore you are; for you are one, I know it.
Let all mine honours perish but I’ll find him
Though he lie lock’d up in thy blood! Be sudden;
There is no facing it; and be not flattered.
The burnt air, when the Dog[3381] reigns, is not fouler 55
Than thy contagious name, till thy repentance
(If the gods grant thee any) purge thy sickness.
_Evad._ Begone! you are my brother; that’s your safety.
_Mel._ I’ll be a wolf first. ’T is, to be thy brother,
An infamy below the sin of coward. 60
I am as far from being part of thee
As thou art from thy virtue. Seek a kindred
’Mongst sensual beasts, and make a goat thy brother;
A goat is cooler. Will you tell me yet?
_Evad._ If you stay here and rail thus, I shall tell you 65
I’ll ha’ you whipt! Get you to your command,
And there preach to your sentinels, and tell them
What a brave man you are: I shall laugh at you.
_Mel._ You’re grown a glorious whore! Where be your fighters? 69
What mortal fool durst raise thee to this daring,
And I alive! By my just sword, he’d safer
Bestrid a billow when the angry North
Ploughs up the sea, or made Heaven’s fire his foe!
Work me no higher. Will you discover yet?
_Evad._ The fellow’s mad. Sleep, and speak sense. 75
_Mel._ Force my swol’n heart no further; I would save thee.
Your great maintainers are not here, they dare not.
Would they were all, and armed! I would speak loud;
Here’s one should thunder to ’em! Will you tell me?—
Thou hast no hope to scape. He that dares most, 80
And damns away his soul to do thee service,
Will sooner snatch meat from a hungry lion
Than come to rescue thee. Thou hast death about thee;—
Has undone thine honour, poison’d thy virtue,
And, of a lovely rose, left thee a canker.[3382] 85
_Evad._ Let me consider.
_Mel._ Do, whose child thou wert,
Whose honour thou hast murdered, whose grave opened,
And so pull’d on the gods that in their justice
They must restore him flesh again and life, 89
And raise his dry bones to revenge this scandal.
_Evad._ The gods are not of my mind; they had better
Let ’em lie sweet still in the earth; they’ll stink here.
_Mel._ Do you raise mirth out of my easiness?
Forsake me, then, all weaknesses of nature, [_Draws his sword._]
That make men women! Speak, you whore, speak truth, 95
Or, by the dear soul of thy sleeping father,
This sword shall be thy lover! Tell, or I’ll kill thee;
And, when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it.
_Evad._ You will not murder me?
_Mel._ No; ’t is a justice, and a noble one, 100
To put the light out of such base offenders.
_Evad._ Help!
_Mel._ By thy foul self, no human help shall help thee,
If thou criest! When I have kill’d thee, as I
Have vow’d to do, if thou confess not, naked 105
As thou hast left thine honour will I leave thee,
That on thy branded flesh the world may read
Thy black shame and my justice. Wilt thou bend yet?
_Evad._ Yes.
_Mel._ Up, and begin your story. 110
_Evad._ Oh, I am miserable!
_Mel._ ’T is true, thou art. Speak truth still.
_Evad._ I have offended: noble sir, forgive me!
_Mel._ With what secure slave?
_Evad._ Do not ask me, sir;
Mine own remembrance is a misery 115
Too mighty for me.
_Mel._ Do not fall back again;
My sword’s unsheathed yet.
_Evad._ What shall I do?
_Mel._ Be true, and make your fault less.
_Evad._ I dare not tell.
_Mel._ Tell, or I’ll be this day a-killing thee.
_Evad._ Will you forgive me, then? 120
_Mel._ Stay; I must ask mine honour first.
I have too much foolish nature in me: speak.
_Evad._ Is there none else here?
_Mel._ None but a fearful[3383] conscience; that’s too many.
Who is ’t?
_Evad._ Oh, hear me gently! It was the King.
_Mel._ No more. My worthy father’s and my services 126
Are liberally rewarded! King, I thank thee!
For all my dangers and my wounds thou hast paid me
In my own metal: these are soldiers’ thanks!—
How long have you liv’d thus, Evadne?
_Evad._ Too long. 130
_Mel._ Too late you find it. Can you be sorry?[3384]
_Evad._ Would I were half as blameless!
_Mel._ Evadne, thou wilt to thy trade again.
_Evad._ First to my grave.
_Mel._ Would gods thou hadst been so blest!
Dost thou not hate this King now? Prithee, hate him: 135
Couldst thou not curse him? I command thee, curse him;
Curse till the gods hear, and deliver him
To thy just wishes. Yet I fear, Evadne,
You had rather play your game out.
_Evad._ No, I feel
Too many sad confusions here, to let in 140
Any loose flame hereafter.
_Mel._ Dost thou not feel, ’mongst all those, one brave anger,
That breaks out nobly, and directs thine arm
To kill this base King?
_Evad._ All the gods forbid it!
_Mel._ No, all the gods require it; 145
They are dishonoured in him.
_Evad._ ’Tis too fearful.
_Mel._ You’re valiant in his bed, and bold enough
To be a stale whore, and have your madam’s name
Discourse for grooms and pages: and hereafter,
When his cool majesty hath laid you by, 150
To be at pension with some needy sir
For meat and coarser clothes; thus far you know
No fear. Come, you shall kill him.
_Evad._ Good sir!
_Mel._ An ’t were to kiss him dead, thou ’dst smother him:
Be wise, and kill him. Canst thou live, and know 155
What noble minds shall make thee, see thyself
Found out with every finger, made the shame
Of all successions, and in this great ruin
Thy brother and thy noble husband broken?
Thou shalt not live thus. Kneel, and swear to help me, 160
When I shall call thee to it; or, by all
Holy in Heaven and earth, thou shalt not live
To breathe a full hour longer; not a thought!
Come ’t is a righteous oath. Give me thy hands,
And, both to Heaven held up, swear, by that wealth 165
This lustful thief stole from thee, when I say it,
To let his foul soul out.
_Evad._ Here I swear it; [_Kneels._]
And, all you spirits of abused ladies,
Help me in this performance!
_Mel._ [_raising her._] Enough. This must be known to none 170
But you and I, Evadne; not to your lord,
Though he be wise and noble, and a fellow
Dares step as far into a worthy action
As the most daring, ay, as far as justice.
Ask me not why. Farewell. _Exit._ 175
_Evad._ Would I could say so to my black disgrace!
Oh, where have I been all this time? How friended,
That I should lose myself thus desperately.
And none for pity show me how I wand’red?
There is not in the compass of the light 180
A more unhappy creature: sure, I am monstrous;
For I have done those follies, those mad mischiefs,
Would dare[3385] a woman. Oh, my loaden soul,
Be not so cruel to me; choke not up
The way to my repentance!
_Enter_ AMINTOR.
Oh, my lord! 185
_Amin._ How now?
_Evad._ My much abused lord! [_Kneels._]
_Amin._ This cannot be!
_Evad._ I do not kneel to live; I dare not hope it;
The wrongs I did are greater. Look upon me,
Though I appear with all my faults.
_Amin._ Stand up.
This is a new way to beget more sorrow; 190
Heaven knows I have too many. Do not mock me:
Though I am tame, and bred up with my wrongs,
Which are my foster-brothers, I may leap,
Like a hand-wolf,[3386] into my natural-wildness, 194
And do an outrage. Prithee, do not mock me.
_Evad._ My whole life is so leprous, it infects
All my repentance. I would buy your pardon,
Though at the highest set,[3387] even with my life:
That slight contrition, that’s no sacrifice 199
For what I have committed.
_Amin._ Sure, I dazzle;
There cannot be a faith in that foul woman,
That knows no god more mighty than her mischiefs.
Thou dost still worse, still number on thy faults,
To press my poor heart thus. Can I believe
There ’s any seed of virtue in that woman 205
Left to shoot up, that dares go on in sin
Known, and so known as thine is? Oh, Evadne!
Would there were any safety in thy sex,
That I might put a thousand sorrows off,
And credit thy repentance! but I must not. 210
Thou hast brought me to that dull calamity,
To that strange misbelief of all the world
And all things that are in it, that I fear
I shall fall like a tree, and find my grave,
Only rememb’ring that I grieve.
_Evad._ My lord, 215
Give me your griefs: you are an innocent,
A soul as white as Heaven; let not my sins
Perish your noble youth. I do not fall here
To shadow by dissembling with my tears,
(As all say women can,) or to make less 220
What my hot will hath done, which Heaven and you
Know to be tougher than the hand of time
Can cut from man’s remembrance; no, I do not;
I do appear the same, the same Evadne,
Drest in the shames I liv’d in, the same monster. 225
But these are names of honour to what I am;
I do present myself the foulest creature,
Most poisonous, dangerous, and despis’d of men,
Lerna[3388] e’er bred or Nilus. I am hell, 229
Till you, my dear lord, shoot your light into me,
The beams of your forgiveness; I am soul-sick,
And wither with the fear of one condemn’d,
Till I have got your pardon.
_Amin._ Rise, Evadne.
Those heavenly powers that put this good into thee
Grant a continuance of it! I forgive thee: 235
Make thyself worthy of it; and take heed,
Take heed, Evadne, this be serious.
Mock not the powers above, that can and dare
Give thee a great example of their justice
To all ensuing ages,[3389] if thou play’st 240
With thy repentance, the best sacrifice.
_Evad._ I have done nothing good to win belief,
My life hath been so faithless. All the creatures,
Made for Heaven’s honours, have their ends, and good ones
All but the cozening crocodiles, false women.
They reign here like those plagues, those killing sores, 246
Men pray against; and when they die, like tales
Ill told and unbeliev’d, they pass away,
And go to dust forgotten. But, my lord,
Those short days I shall number to my rest 250
(As many must not see me) shall, though too late,
Though in my evening, yet perceive a will,
Since I can do no good, because a woman,
Reach constantly at something that is near it:
I will redeem one minute of my age, 255
Or, like another Niobe, I ’ll weep,
Till I am water.
_Amin._ I am now dissolved:
My frozen soul melts. May each sin thou hast,
Find a new mercy! Rise; I am at peace.
Hadst thou been thus, thus excellently good, 260
Before that devil-king tempted thy frailty,
Sure thou hadst made a star. Give me thy hand:
From this time I will know thee; and, as far
As honour gives me leave, be thy Amintor.
When we meet next, I will salute thee fairly, 265
And pray the gods to give thee happy days:
My charity shall go along with thee,
Though my embraces must be far from thee.
I should ha’ kill’d thee, but this sweet repentance
Locks up my vengeance: for which thus I kiss thee— 270
The last kiss we must take: and would to Heaven
The holy priest that gave our hands together
Had given us equal virtues! Go, Evadne;
The gods thus part our bodies. Have a care
My honour falls no farther: I am well, then.
_Evad._ All the dear joys here, and above hereafter, 276
Crown thy fair soul! Thus I take leave, my lord;
And never shall you see the foul Evadne,
Till she have tried all honoured means, that may
Set her in rest and wash her stains away. _Exeunt_ [_severally_]. 280
[SCENE II.][3390]
_A Banquet spread. Enter_ KING _and_ CALIANAX. _Hautboys play within._
_King._ I cannot tell how I should credit this
From you, that are his enemy.
_Cal._ I am sure
He said it to me; and I ’ll justify it
What way he dares oppose—but with my sword.
_King._ But did he break, without all circumstance,
To you, his foe, that he would have the fort, 6
To kill me, and then scape?
_Cal._ If he deny it,
I ’ll make him blush.
_King._ It sounds incredibly.
_Cal._ Ay, so does every thing I say of late.
_King._ Not so, Calianax.
_Cal._ Yes, I should sit 10
Mute, whilst a rogue with strong arms cuts your throat.
_King._ Well, I will try him; and, if this be true,
I ’ll pawn my life I ’ll find it; if ’t be false,
And that you clothe your hate in such a lie,
You shall hereafter dote in your own house, 15
Not in the court.
_Cal._ Why, if it be a lie.
Mine ears are false, for I ’ll be sworn I heard it.
Old men are good for nothing; you were best
Put me to death for hearing, and free him
For meaning it. You would ha’ trusted me 20
Once, but the time is altered.
_King._ And will still,
Where I may do with justice to the world.
You have no witness.
_Cal._ Yes, myself.
_King._ No more,
I mean, there were that heard it.
_Cal._ How? no more!
Would you have more? Why, am not I enough 25
To hang a thousand rogues?
_King._ But so you may
Hang honest men too, if you please.
_Cal._ I may!
’T is like I will do so: there are a hundred
Will swear it for a need too, if I say it——
_King._ Such witnesses we need not.
_Cal._ And ’t is hard 30
If my word cannot hang a boisterous knave.
_King._ Enough.—Where ’s Strato?
_Enter_ STRATO.
_Strato._ Sir?
_King._ Why, where ’s all the company? Call Amintor in;
Evadne. Where ’s my brother, and Melantius?
Bid him come too; and Diphilus. Call all 35
That are without there. _Exit_ STRATO.
If he should desire
The combat of you, ’t is not in the power
Of all our laws to hinder it, unless
We mean to quit ’em.
_Cal._ Why, if you do think
’T is fit an old man and a councillor 40
To fight for what he says, then you may grant it.
_Enter_ AMINTOR, EVADNE, MELANTIUS, DIPHILUS, LYSIPPUS, CLEON, STRATO,
_and_ DIAGORAS.
_King._ Come, sirs!—Amintor, thou art yet a bridegroom,
And I will use thee so; thou shalt sit down.—
Evadne, sit;—and you, Amintor, too;
This banquet is for you, sir.—Who has brought 45
A merry tale about him, to raise laughter
Amongst our wine? Why, Strato, where art thou?
Thou wilt chop out with them unseasonably,
When I desire ’em not.
_Stra._ ’T is my ill luck, sir, so to spend them, then. 50
_King._ Reach me a bowl of wine.—Melantius, thou
Art sad.
_Mel._ I should be, sir, the merriest here,
But I ha’ ne’er a story of mine own
Worth telling at this time.
_King._ Give me the wine.— 55
Melantius, I am now considering
How easy ’t were for any man we trust
To poison one of us in such a bowl.
_Mel._ I think it were not hard, sir, for a knave.
_Cal._ [_Aside._] Such as you are. 60
_King._ I’ faith, ’t were easy. It becomes us well
To get plain-dealing men about ourselves;
Such as you all are here.—Amintor, to thee;
And to thy fair Evadne. [_Drinks._]
_Mel._ [_Aside._] Have you thought
Of this, Calianax?
_Cal._ Yes, marry, have I. 65
_Mel._ And what ’s your resolution?
_Cal._ You shall have it,—
[_Aside._] Soundly, I warrant you.
_King._ Reach to Amintor, Strato.
_Amin._ Here, my love;
[_Drinks and then hands the cup to_ EVADNE.]
This wine will do thee wrong, for it will set
Blushes upon thy cheeks; and, till thou dost 70
A fault, ’t were pity.
_King._ Yet I wonder much
[At] the strange desperation of these men,
That dare attempt such acts here in our state:
He could not scape that did it.
_Mel._ Were he known,
Unpossible.
_King._ It would be known, Melantius. 75
_Mel._ It ought to be. If he got then away,
He must wear all our lives upon his sword:
He need not fly the island; he must leave
No one alive.
_King._ No; I should think no man
Could kill me, and scape clear, but that old man. 80
_Cal._ But I! Heaven bless me! I! should I, my liege?
_King._ I do not think thou wouldst; but yet thou mightst,
For thou hast in thy hands the means to scape,
By keeping of the fort.—He has, Melantius,
And he has kept it well.
_Mel._ From cobwebs, sir, 85
’T is clean swept; I can find no other art
In keeping of it now. ’T was ne’er besieg’d
Since he commanded.
_Cal._ I shall be sure
Of your good word; but I have kept it safe
From such as you.
_Mel._ Keep your ill temper in: 90
I speak no malice; had my brother kept it,
I should ha’ said as much.
_King._ You are not merry.
Brother, drink wine. Sit you all still:—(_Aside._) Calianax,
I cannot trust this. I have thrown out words,
That would have fetcht warm blood upon the cheeks 95
Of guilty men, and he is never mov’d;
He knows no such thing.
_Cal._ Impudence may scape,
When feeble virtue is accus’d.
_King._ ’A must,
If he were guilty, feel an alteration
At this our whisper, whilst we point at him:
You see he does not.
_Cal._ Let him hang himself; 101
What care I what he does? This he did say.
_King._ Melantius, you can easily conceive
What I have meant; for men that are in fault
Can subtly apprehend when others aim 105
At what they do amiss: but I forgive
Freely before this man,—Heaven do so too!
I will not touch thee, so much as with shame
Of telling it. Let it be so no more.
_Cal._ Why, this is very fine!
_Mel._ I cannot tell 110
What ’t is you mean; but I am apt enough
Rudely to thrust into an ignorant fault.
But let me know it. Happily[3391] ’t is nought
But misconstruction; and, where I am clear,
I will not take forgiveness of the gods, 115
Much less of you.
_King._ Nay, if you stand so stiff,
I shall call back my mercy.
_Mel._ I want smoothness
To thank a man for pardoning of a crime
I never knew.
_King._ Not to instruct your knowledge, but to show you 120
My ears are every where; you meant to kill me,
And get the fort to scape.
_Mel._ Pardon me, sir;
My bluntness will be pardoned. You preserve
A race of idle people here about you,
Facers[3392] and talkers, to defame the worth 125
Of those that do things worthy. The man that uttered this
Had perisht without food, be ’t who it will,
But for this arm, that fenc’d him from the foe;
And if I thought you gave a faith to this,
The plainness of my nature would speak more.
Give me a pardon (for you ought to do ’t) 131
To kill him that spake this.
_Cal._ [_Aside._] Ay, that will be
The end of all; then I am fairly paid
For all my care and service.
_Mel._ That old man,
Who calls me enemy, and of whom I 135
(Though I will never match my hate so low)
Have no good thought, would yet, I think, excuse me,
And swear he thought me wrong’d in this.
_Cal._ Who, I?
Thou shameless fellow! didst thou not speak to me
Of it thyself?
_Mel._ Oh, then it came from him! 140
_Cal._ From me! who should it come from but from me?
_Mel._ Nay, I believe your malice is enough;
But I have lost my anger.—Sir, I hope
You are well satisfied.
_King._ Lysippus, cheer
Amintor and his lady.—There ’s no sound 145
Comes from you; I will come and do ’t myself.
_Amin._ [_Aside._] You have done already, sir, for me, I thank you.
_King._ Melantius, I do credit this from him,
How slight soe’er you make ’t.
_Mel._ ’T is strange you should.
_Cal._ ’T is strange ’a should believe an old man’s word 150
That never lied in ’s life!
_Mel._ I talk not to thee.—
Shall the wild words of this distempered man,
Frantic with age and sorrow, make a breach
Betwixt your majesty and me? ’T was wrong
To hearken to him; but to credit him, 155
As much at least as I have power to bear,
But pardon me—whilst I speak only truth,
I may commend myself—I have bestow’d
My careless blood with you, and should be loth
To think an action that would make me lose 160
That and my thanks too. When I was a boy,
I thrust myself into my country’s cause,
And did a deed that pluckt five years from time,
And styl’d me man then. And for you, my King,
Your subjects all have fed by virtue of 165
My arm. This sword of mine hath plough’d the ground,
And reapt the fruit in peace;
And you yourself have liv’d at home in ease.
So terrible I grew, that without swords,
My name hath fetcht you conquest: and my heart 170
And limbs are still the same; my will as great
To do you service. Let me not be paid
With such a strange distrust.
_King._ Melantius,
I held it great injustice to believe
Thine enemy, and did not; if I did, 175
I do not; let that satisfy.—What, struck
With sadness all? More wine!
_Cal._ A few fine words
Have overthrown my truth. Ah, thou ’rt a villain!
_Mel._ (_Aside._) Why, thou wert better let me have the fort:
Dotard, I will disgrace thee thus for ever; 180
There shall no credit lie upon thy words.
Think better, and deliver it.
_Cal._ My liege,
He ’s at me now again to do it.—Speak;
Deny it, if thou canst.—Examine him
Whilst he is hot; for, if he cool again, 185
He will forswear it.
_King._ This is lunacy,
I hope, Melantius.
_Mel._ He hath lost himself
Much, since his daughter mist the happiness
My sister gain’d; and, though he call me foe,
I pity him.
_Cal._ Pity! A pox upon you! 190
_Mel._ Mark his disordered words: and at the masque
Diagoras knows he rag’d and rail’d at me,
And call’d a lady “whore,” so innocent
She understood him not. But it becomes
Both you and me too to forgive distraction: 195
Pardon him, as I do.
_Cal._ I ’ll not speak for thee,
For all thy cunning.—If you will be safe,
Chop off his head; for there was never known
So impudent a rascal.
_King._ Some, that love him,
Get him to bed. Why, pity should not let 200
Age make itself contemptible; we must be
All old. Have him away.
_Mel._ [_Aside._] Calianax,
The king believes you; come, you shall go home,
And rest; you ha’ done well. You ’ll give it up,
When I have us’d you thus a month, I hope. 205
_Cal._ Now, now, ’t is plain, sir; he does move me still.
He says, he knows I ’ll give him up the fort.
When he has us’d me thus a month. I am mad,
Am I not, still?
_All._ Ha, ha, ha!
_Cal._ I shall be mad indeed, if you do thus.
Why should you trust a sturdy fellow there 211
(That has no virtue in him, all ’s in his sword)
Before me? Do but take his weapons from him,
And he ’s an ass; and I am a very fool,
Both with ’em[3393] and without ’em,[3393] as you use me. 215
_All._ Ha, ha, ha!
_King._ ’T is well, Calianax: but if you use
This once again, I shall entreat some other
To see your offices be well discharg’d.—
Be merry, gentlemen.—It grows somewhat late.— 220
Amintor, thou wouldst be a-bed again.
_Amin._ Yes, sir.
_King._ And you, Evadne.—Let me take
Thee in my arms, Melantius, and believe
Thou art, as thou deserv’st to be, my friend
Still and for ever.—Good Calianax, 225
Sleep soundly; it will bring thee to thyself.
_Exeunt all except_ MELANTIUS _and_ CALIANAX.
_Cal._ Sleep soundly! I sleep soundly now, I hope;
I could not be thus else.—How dar’st thou stay
Alone with me, knowing how thou hast us’d me?
_Mel._ You cannot blast me with your tongue, and that ’s 230
The strongest part you have about you.