The Maids Tragedy

Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

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  • Actus primus. Scena prima.
  • Actus Secundus.
  • Actus Tertius.
  • Actus Quartus.
  • Actus Quintus.
  • Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Jayam Subramanian and Distributed
    Proofreaders

                         THE

                    MAIDS TRAGEDY.

       Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

            Persons Represented in the Play.

            King.

            Lysippus, brother to the King.

            Amintor, a Noble Gentleman.

            Evadne, Wife to Amintor.

            Malantius}
            Diphilius} Brothers to Evadne.

            Aspatia, troth-plight wife to Amnitor.

            Calianax, an old humorous Lord, and
                      Father to
    Aspatia.

            Cleon}
            Strato} Gentlemen.

            Diagoras, a Servant.

            Antiphila}
            Olympias} waiting Gentlewomen to Aspatia.

            Dula, a Lady.

            Night}
            Cynthia}
            Neptune}
            Eolus} Maskers.

           * * * * *

    Actus primus. Scena prima.

      Enter Cleon, Strato, Lysippus, Diphilus.

    Cleon. The rest are making ready Sir.

    Strat. 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, What
                    thinkst thou of a Mask? will it be well?

    Strat. As well as Mask can be.

    Lys. As Mask can be?

    Strat. Yes, they must commend their King, and speak
                    in praise of the Assembly, bless the Bride and
                    Bridegroom, in person of some God; th'are tyed
                    to rules of flattery.

    Cle. See, good my Lord, who is return'd!

    Lys. Noble Melantius!

                         [Enter Melantius.

                     The Land by me welcomes thy vertues home to Rhodes,
                     thou that with blood abroad buyest us our peace; the
                     breath of King is like the breath of Gods; 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 this or all the worlds.

    Mel. My Lord, my thanks; but these scratcht limbs of mine have
                     spoke my love and truth unto my friends, more than my
                     tongue ere 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!
                     He that rejoyces 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 armes
                     With me at Patria: thou cam'st not Diphilus: 'Twas
                      ill.

    Diph. My noble brother, my excuse
                     Is my King's strict command, which you my Lord
                     Can witness with me.

    Lys. 'Tis true Melantius,
                     He might not come till the solemnity
                     Of this great match were past.

    Diph. Have you heard of it?

    Mel. Yes, I have given cause to those that
                     Envy my deeds abroad, to call me gamesome;
                      I have no other business here at Rhodes.

    Lys. We have a Mask to night,
                      And you must tread a Soldiers measure.

    Mel. These soft and silken wars are not for me;
                      The Musick must be shrill, and all confus'd,
                      That stirs my blood, and then I dance with armes:
                      But is Amintor Wed?

    Diph. This day. Mel. All joyes upon him, for he is my friend:
                      Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend,
                      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)
                      I brought home conquest, he would gaze upon me,
                      And view me round, to find in what one limb
                      The vertue lay to do those things he heard:
                      Then would he wish to see my Sword, and feel
                      The quickness of the edge, and in his hand
                      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.

    Melan. Hail Maid and Wife!
                     Thou fair Aspatia, may the holy knot
                     That thou hast tyed to day, last till the hand
                     Of age undo't; may'st thou bring a race
                     Unto Amintor that may fill the world
                     Successively with Souldiers.

    Asp. My hard fortunes
                     Deserve not scorn; for I was never proud
                     When they were good.

                         [Exit Aspatia.

    Mel. How's this?

    Lys. You are mistaken, for 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
                      Made me imagine you had heard the change.

    Mel. Who hath he taken then?

    Lys. A Lady Sir,
                      That bears the light above her, and strikes dead
                      With flashes of her eye; the fair Evadne your
                      vertuous Sister.

    Mel. Peace of heart betwixt them: but this is strange.

    Lys. The King my brother did it
                      To honour you; and these solemnities
                      Are at his charge.

    Mel. 'Tis Royal, like himself;
                      But I am sad, my speech bears so unfortunate a sound
                      To beautiful Aspatia; there is rage
                      Hid in her fathers 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
                      Of his neglected daughter: holds he still his greatness
                      with the King?

    Lys. Yes; but this Lady
                      Walks discontented, with her watry eyes
                      Bent on the earth: the unfrequented woods
                      Are her delight; and when she sees a bank
                      Stuck full of flowers, she with a sigh will tell
                      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
                      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 that fill the room
                      With laughter, she will with so sad a look
                      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'l send them weeping one by one away.

    Mel. She has a brother under my command
                      Like her, a face as womanish as hers,
                      But with a spirit that hath much out-grown
                      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,
                      My mouth is much too narrow for my heart;
                       I joy to look upon those eyes of thine;
                      Thou art my friend, but my disorder'd speech cuts off
                      my love.

    Amin. Thou art Melantius;
                      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,
                      Only thy valour and thy innocence.
                      What endless treasures would our enemies give,
                      That I might hold thee still thus!

    Mel. I am but poor in words, but credit me young man,
                      Thy Mother could no more but weep, for joy to see thee
                      After long absence; all the wounds I have,
                      Fetch not so much away, nor all the cryes
                      Of Widowed Mothers: but this is peace;
                      And what was War?

    Amin. Pardon thou holy God
                      Of Marriage bed, and frown not, I am forc't
                      In answer of such noble tears as those,
                      To weep upon my Wedding day.

    Mel. I fear thou art grown too sick; for I hear
                      A Lady mourns for thee, men say to death,
                      Forsaken of thee, on what terms I know not.

    Amin. She had my promise, but the King forbad it,
                      And made me make this worthy change, thy Sister
                      Accompanied with graces above her,
                      With whom I long to lose my lusty youth,
                      And grow old in her arms.

    Mel. Be prosperous.

                         [Enter Messenger.

    Messen. My Lord, the Maskers rage for you.

    Lys. We are gone. Cleon, Strata, Diphilus.

    Amin. Wee'l all attend you, we shall trouble you
                     With our solemnities.

    Mel. Not so Amintor.
                     But if you laugh at my rude carriage
                     In peace, I'le 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,
                     She saies, 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.

                         [Exit.

      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, by Jove the King will have the show
                    i'th' Court.

    Diag. Why do you swear so my Lord?
                    You know he'l have it here.

    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'le be gone, look to't who will.

    Diag. My Lord, I will never keep them out.
                     Pray stay, your looks will terrifie them.

    Cal. My looks terrifie them, you Coxcombly Ass you!
                     I'le be judg'd 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 am sure I sweat
                     quite through my Office, I might have made room at my
                     Daughters Wedding, they had near kill'd her among them.
                     And now I must do service for him that hath forsaken her;
                     serve that will.
                         [Exit Calianax.

    Diag. He's so humourous since his daughter was forsaken:
                     hark, hark, there, there, so, so, codes, codes.
                     What now?
                         [Within. knock within.

    Mel. Open the door.

    Diag. Who's there?

    Mel. Melantius.

    Diag. I hope your Lordship brings no troop with you,
                     for if you do, I must return them.
                         [Enter Melantius.

    Mel. None but this Lady Sir.
                         [And a Lady.

    Diag. The Ladies are all plac'd above, save those that
                     come in the Kings Troop, the best of Rhodes sit there,
                     and there's room.

    Mel. I thank you Sir: when I have seen you plac'd
                     Madam, I must attend the King; but the Mask done, I'le
                     wait on you again.

    Diag. Stand back there, room for my Lord Melantius, pray bear
                     back, this is no place for such youths and their Truls,
                     let the doors shut agen; I, do your heads itch? I'le
                     scratch them for you: so now thrust and hang: again,
                     who is't now? I cannot blame my Lord Calianax for
                     going away; would he were here, he would run raging
                     among them, and break a dozen wiser heads than his
                     own in the twinkling of an eye: what's the news now?

                         [Within.

                      I pray can you help me to the speech of the Master Cook?

    Diag. If I open the door I'le cook some of your Calvesheads.
                      Peace Rogues.—again,—who is't?

    Mel. Melantius within. Enter Calianax to Melantius.

    Cal. Let him not in.

    Diag. O my Lord I must; make room there for my
                      Lord; is your Lady plac't?

    Mel. Yes Sir, I thank you my Lord Calianax: well met,
                      Your causless 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,
                      A most unmanly one, and I am slow
                      In taking vengeance, but be well advis'd.

    Cal. It may be so: who placed the Lady there so near
                      the presence of the King?

    Mel. I did.

    Cal. My Lord she must not sit there.

    Mel. Why?

    Cal. The place is kept for women of more worth. Mel. More worth than she? it mis-becomes your Age
                     And place to be thus womanish; forbear;
                     What you have spoke, I am content to think
                     The Palsey shook your tongue to.

    Cal. Why 'tis well if I stand here to place mens wenches.

    Mel. I shall 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.

    Mel. Bate the King, and be he flesh and blood,
                     He lyes that saies it, thy mother at fifteen
                     Was black and sinful to her.

    Diag. Good my Lord!

    Mel. Some god pluck threescore years from that fond man,
                    That I may kill him, and not stain mine honour;
                    It is the curse of Souldiers, that in peace
                    They shall be brain'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,
                    Were running in thy veins, that it might make thee
                    Apt to say less, or able to maintain,
                    Shouldst thou say more,—This Rhodes I see is nought
                    But a place priviledg'd to do men wrong.

    Cal. I, you may say your pleasure.

                         [Enter Amintor.

    Amint. What vilde injury
                      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.

    Amint. Good Sir forbear.

    Cal. There is just such another as your self.

    Amint. 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,
                     He should perceive you raging, he did hear
                     You were at difference now, which hastned him.

    Cal. Make room there.

      Hoboyes play within.

      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
                     To brabble in; Calianax, joyn hands.

    Cal. He shall not have my 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; begin the Mask.

    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.

    Evad. O my dearest brother!
                      Your presence is more joyful than this day can be unto
                      me.

       The Mask.

      Night rises in mists.

    Nigh. Our raign is come; for in the raging Sea
                     The Sun is drown'd, and with him fell the day:
                     Bright Cinthia hear my voice, I am the Night
                     For whom thou bear'st about thy borrowed light;
                     Appear, no longer thy pale visage shrowd,
                     But strike thy silver horn 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.

                         [Enter Cinthia.

                     How dull and black am I! I could not find
                     This beauty without thee, I am so blind;
                     Methinks they shew like to those Eastern streaks
                     That warn us hence before the morning breaks;
                     Back my pale servant, for these eyes know how
                     To shoot far more and quicker rayes than thou.

    Cinth. Great Queen, they be a Troop for whom alone
                     One of my clearest moons I have put on;
                     A Troop that looks as if thy self and I
                     Had pluckt our rains in, and our whips laid by
                     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 out-shine the day.

      Cinth. Great Queen of shadows, you are
                     pleas'd to speak
                     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 whil'st our raign lasts, let us stretch our power
                     To give our servants one contented hour,
                     With such unwonted solemn grace and state,
                     As may for ever after force them hate
                     Our brothers glorious beams, and wish the night
                     Crown'd with a thousand stars, and our cold light:
                     For almost all the world their service bend
                     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.

    Nigh. Then shine at full, fair Queen, and by thy power
                     Produce a birth to crown this happy hour;
                     Of Nymphs and Shepherds let their songs discover,
                     Easie and sweet, who is a happy Lover;
                     Or if thou woot, then call thine own Endymion
                     From the sweet flowry bed he lies upon,
                     On Latmus top, thy pale beams drawn away,
                     And of this long night let him make a day.

    Cinth. 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;
                     But I will give a greater state and glory,
                     And raise to time a noble 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
                     Be proud to be commanded.

                         [Neptune rises.

    Nep. Cinthia, see,
                      Thy word hath fetcht me hither, let me know why I
                      ascend.

    Cinth. Doth this majestick show
                       Give thee no knowledge yet?

    Nep. Yes, now I see.
                       Something intended (Cinthia) worthy thee;
                       Go on, I'le be a helper.

    Cinth. Hie thee then,
                       And charge the wind flie from his Rockie Den.
                       Let loose thy subjects, only Boreas
                       Too foul for our intention as he was;
                       Still keep him fast chain'd; we must have none here
                       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 musick: next, thy watry race
                       Bring on in couples; we are pleas'd to grace
                       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.

    Nep. Ho the wind
                       Commanding Eolus!

                         [Enter Eolus out of a Rock.

    Eol. Great Neptune!

    Nep. He.

    Eol. What is thy will?

    Nep. We do command thee free
                       Favonius and thy milder winds to wait
                       Upon our Cinthia, but tye Boreas straight;
                       He's too rebellious.

    Eol. I shall do it.

    Nep. Do, great master of the flood, and all below,
                       Thy full command has taken.

    Eol. Ho! the main;
                       Neptune.

    Nep. Here.

    Eol. Boreas has broke his chain,
                      And struggling with the rest, has got away.

    Nep. Let him alone, I'le take him up at sea;
                      He will not long be thence; go once again
                      And call out of the bottoms of the Main,
                      Blew Proteus, and the rest; charge them put on
                      Their greatest pearls, and the most sparkling stone
                      The bearing Rock breeds, till this night is done
                      By me a solemn honour to the Moon;
                      Flie like a full sail.

    Eol. I am gone.

    Cin. Dark night,
                      Strike a full silence, do a thorow right
                      To this great Chorus, that our Musick may
                      Touch high as heaven, and make the East break day
                      At mid-[n]ight.

                         [Musick.

    SONG.
                      Cinthia to thy power, and them we obey.
                      Joy to this great company, and no day
                      Come to steal this night away,
                      Till the rites of love are ended,
                      And the lusty Bridegroom say,
                      Welcome light of all befriended.
                      Pace out you watry powers below, let your feet
                      Like the Gallies when they row, even beat
    .
                      Let your unknown measures set
                      To the still winds, tell to all
                      That Gods are come immortal great,
                      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 blushes open to the day.
                         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;
                         Stay and hide all, but help not though she
                         call
    .

    Nep. Great Queen of us and Heaven,
                      Hear what I bring to make this hour a full one,
                      If not her measure.

    Cinth. Speak Seas King.

    Nep. Thy tunes my Amphitrite joyes to have,
                       When they will dance upon the rising wave,
                       And court me as the sails, my Trytons play
                       Musick to lead a storm, I'le lead the way.

    Song. Measure.

                     To bed, to bed; come Hymen, lead the Bride,
                         And lay her by her Husbands side:
                         Bring in the Virgins every one
                         That grieve to lie alone:
                     That they may kiss while they may say, a maid,
                         To morrow 'twill be other, kist and said:
                         Hesperus be long a shining,
                         Whilst these Lovers are a twining
    .

    Eol. Ho! Neptune!

    Nept. Eolus!

    Eol. The Seas go hie,
                     Boreas hath rais'd a storm; go and applie
                     Thy trident, else I prophesie, ere day
                     Many a tall ship will be cast away:
                     Descend with all the Gods, and all their power to
                     strike a cal[m].

    Cin. A thanks to every one, and to gratulate
                     So great a service done at my desire,
                     Ye shall have many floods fuller and higher
                     Than you have wisht for; no Ebb shall dare
                     To let the day see where your dwellings are:
                     Now back unto your Government in haste,
                     Lest your proud charge should swell above the waste,
                     And win upon the Island.

    Nep. We obey.

                         [Neptune descends, and the Sea-gods.

    Cinth. Hold up thy head dead night; seest thou not day?
                     The East begins to lighten, I must down
                     And give my brother place.

    Nigh. Oh! I could frown
                      To see the day, the day that flings his light
                      Upon my Kingdoms, and contemns old Night;
                      Let him go on and flame, I hope to see
                      Another wild-fire in his Axletree;
                      And all false drencht; but I forgot, speak Queen.
                      The day grows on I must no more be seen.

    Cin. Heave up thy drowsie head agen, and see
                       A greater light, a greater Majestie,
                       Between our sect and us; whip up thy team;
                       The day breaks here, and you some flashing stream
                       Shot from the South; say, which way wilt thou go?

    Nigh. I'le vanish into mists.
                         [Exeunt.

    Cin. I into day. [Finis Mask.

    King. Take lights there Ladies, get the Bride to bed;
                      We will not see you laid, good night Amintor,
                      We'l ease you of that tedious ceremony;
                      Were it [my] case, I should think time run slow.
                      If thou beest noble, youth, get me a boy,
                      That may defend my Kingdom from my foes.

    Amin. All happiness to you.

    King. Good night Melantius.
                         [Exeunt.

    Actus Secundus.

      Enter Evadne, Aspatia, Dula, and other Ladies.

    Dul. Madam, shall we undress you for this fight?
                      The Wars are nak'd that you must make to night.

    Evad. You are very merry Dula.

    Dul. I should be far merrier Madam, if it were with me
                      as it is with you.

    Eva. Why how now wench?

    Dul. Come Ladies will you help?

    Eva. I am soon undone.

    Dul. And as soon done:
                      Good store of Cloaths will trouble you at both.

    Evad. Art thou drunk Dula?

    Dul. Why here's none but we.

    Evad. Thou think'st belike, there is no modesty
                      When we are alone.

    Dul. I by my troth you hit my thoughts aright.

    Evad. You prick me Lady.

    Dul. 'Tis against my will,
                       Anon you must endure more, and lie still.
                       You're best to practise.

    Evad. Sure this wench is mad.

    Dul. No faith, this is a trick that I have had
                       Since I was fourteen.

    Evad. 'Tis high time to leave it.

    Dul. Nay, now I'le keep it till the trick leave me;
                       A dozen wanton words put in your head,
                       Will make you lively in your Husbands bed.

    Evad. Nay faith, then take it.

    Dul. Take it Madam, where?
                      We all I hope will take it that are here.

    Evad. Nay then I'le give you o're.

    Dul. So will I make
                      The ablest man in Rhodes, or his heart to ake.

    Evad. Wilt take my place to night?

    Dul. I'le hold your Cards against any two I know.

    Evad. What wilt thou do?

    Dul. Madam, we'l do't, and make'm leave play too.

    Evad. Aspatia, take her part.

    Dul. I will refuse it.
                     She will pluck down a side, she does not use it.

    Evad. Why, do.

    Dul. You will find the play
                     Quickly, because your head lies well that way.

    Evad. I thank thee Dula, would thou could'st instill
                     Some of thy mirth into Aspatia:
                     Nothing but sad thoughts in her breast do dwell,
                     Methinks a mean betwixt you would do well.

    Dul. She is in love, hang me if I were so,
                     But I could run my Country, I love too
                     To do those things that people in love do.

    Asp. It were a timeless smile should prove my cheek,
                     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 night, and all your hands have been imployed
                     In giving me a spotless offering
                     To young Amintors 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,
                     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
                     Vertue, you safely may forgive that too,
                     For I have left none that I had from you.

    Evad. Nay, leave this sad talk Madam.

    Asp. Would I could, then should I leave the cause.

    Evad. See if you have not spoil'd all Dulas mirth.

    Asp. Thou think'st thy heart hard, but if thou beest
                     caught, remember me; thou shalt perceive a fire shot
                     suddenly into thee.

    Dul. That's not so good, let'm shoot any thing but fire, I
                     fear'm not.

    Asp. Well wench, thou mayst be taken.

    Evad. Ladies good night, I'le do the rest my self.

    Dul. Nay, let your Lord do some.

    Asp. Lay a Garland on my Hearse of the dismal Yew.

    Evad. That's one of your sad songs Madam.

    Asp. Believe me, 'tis a very pretty one.

    Evad. How is it Madam?

      SONG.

    Asp. Lay a Garland on my Hearse of the dismal yew;
                     Maidens, Willow branches bear; say I died true:
                     My Love was false, but I was firm from my hour of birth;
                     Upon my buried body lay lightly gentle earth.

    Evad. Fie on't Madam, the words are so strange, they
                     are able to make one Dream of Hobgoblins; I could never
                     have the power
    , Sing that Dula.

    Dula. I could never have the power
                      To love one above an hour,
                      But my heart would prompt mine eye
                      On some other man to flie;
                      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.

    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,
                     Enquire of me, and I will guide your moan,
                     Teach you an artificial 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:
                     Ladies farewel; 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 Ivie clasp my Coffin round,
                     Write on my brow my fortune, let my Bier
                     Be born by Virgins that shall sing by course
                     The truth of maids and perjuries of men.

    Evad. Alas, I pity thee.
                         [Exit Evadne.

    Omnes. Madam, goodnight.

    1 Lady. Come, we'l let in the Bridegroom.

    Dul. Where's my Lord?

    1 Lady. Here take this light.

                         [Enter Amintor.

    Dul. You'l 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 Ladies love;
                     May all the wrongs that you have done to me,
                     Be utterly forgotten in my death.
                      I'le trouble you no more, yet I will take
                     A parting kiss, and will not be denied.
                     You'l come my Lord, and see the Virgins weep
                     When I am laid in earth, though you your self
                     Can know no pity: thus I wind my self
                      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.

    Dul. Come Ladies, will you go?
                         [Exit Aspatia.

    Om. Goodnight my Lord.

    Amin. Much happiness unto you all.

                         [Exeunt Ladies.

                       I did that Lady wrong; methinks I feel
                       Her grief shoot suddenly through all my veins;
                       Mine eyes run; this is strange at such a time.
                       It was the King first mov'd me to't, but he
                       Has not my will in keeping—why do I
                       Perplex my self thus? something whispers me,
                       Go not to bed; my guilt is not so great
                       As mine own conscience (too sensible)
                       Would make me think; I only brake a promise,
                       And 'twas the King that forc't me: timorous flesh,
                       Why shak'st thou so? away my idle fears.

                         [Enter Evadne.

                      Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye
                      Can blot away the sad remembrance
                      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.
                      Cam'st thou to call me?

    Evad. No.

    Amin. Come, come my Love,
                      And let us lose our selves to one another.
                      Why art thou up so long?

    Evad. I am not well.

    Amint. To bed then let me wind thee in these arms,
                      Till I have banisht sickness.

    Evad. Good my Lord, I cannot sleep.

    Amin. Evadne, we'l watch, I mean no sleeping.

    Evad. I'le not go to bed.

    Amin. I prethee do.

    Evad. I will not for the world.

    Amin. Why my dear Love?

    Evad. Why? I have sworn I will not.

    Amin. Sworn!

    Evad. I.

    Amint. How? Sworn Evadne?

    Evad. Yes, Sworn Amintor, and will swear again
                      If you will wish to hear me. 0 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.

    Evad. The coyness of a 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 you best?

    Amin. Why do you ask?

    Evad. That I may shew you one less pleasing to you.

    Amin. How's that?

    Evad. That I may shew you one less pleasing to you.

    Amint. I prethee put thy jests in milder looks.
                      It shews as thou wert angry.

    Evad. So perhaps I am indeed.

    Amint. Why, who has done thee wrong?
                     Name me the man, and by thy self I swear,
                     Thy yet unconquer'd self, I will revenge thee.

    Evad. Now I shall try thy truth; if thou dost love me,
                     Thou weigh'st not any thing compar'd with me;
                     Life, Honour, joyes 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?
                     Swear my Amintor, and I'le kiss the sin off from
                     thy lips.

    Amin. I will not swear sweet Love,
                     Till I do know the cause.

    Evad. I would thou wouldst;
                     Why, it is thou that wrongest me, I hate thee,
                     Thou shouldst have kill'd thy self.

    Amint. If I should know that, I should quickly kill
                     The man you hated.

    Evad. Know it then, and do't.

    Amint. Oh no, what look soe're thou shalt put on,
                     To try my faith, I shall not think thee false;
                     I cannot find one blemish in thy face,
                     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 at my years?

    Amint. Sure she raves, this cannot be
                     Thy 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,
                     Because I speak the truth?

    Amint. Will you not lie with me to night?

    Evad. To night? you talk as if I would hereafter.

    Amint. Hereafter? yes, I do.

    Evad. You are deceiv'd, put off amazement, and with patience mark
                      What I shall utter, for the Oracle
                      Knows nothing truer, 'tis not for a night
                      Or two that I forbear thy bed, but for ever.

    Amint. I dream,—awake Amintor!

    Evad. You hear right,
                      I sooner will find out the beds of Snakes,
                      And with my youthful blood warm their cold flesh,
                      Letting them curle 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?
                     Are these the joyes 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,
                     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 smoak
                     In praise of thee; we will adopt us Sons;
                     Then vertue shall inherit, and not blood:
                     If we do lust, we'l take the next we meet,
                     Serving our selves 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;
                     So dear the thoughts are that I hold of thee,
                     That I must break forth; satisfie 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:
                      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.
                      Is your doubt over now?

    Amint. 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
                      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?
                      Why does not Heaven speak in Thunder to us,
                      And drown her voice?

    Evad. This rage will do no good.

    Amint. Evadne, hear me, thou hast ta'ne an Oath,
                     But such a rash one, that to keep it, were
                     Worse than to swear it; call it back to thee;
                     Such vows as those never ascend the 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
                     That men call'd fair and vertuous in this Isle,
                     That would have shun'd my love? It is in thee
                     To make me hold this worth—Oh! we vain men
                     That trust out all our reputation,
                     To rest upon the weak and yielding hand
                     Of feeble Women! 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 joyes thou hast; I know thou wilt;
                     And make me careful, lest the sudden change
                     O're-come my spirits.

    Evad. When I call back this Oath, the pains of hell inviron me.

    Amin. I sleep, and am too temperate; come to bed, or by
                      Those hairs, which if thou hast a soul like to thy locks,
                      Were threads for Kings to wear about their arms.

    Evad. Why so perhaps they are.

    Amint. I'le drag thee to my bed, and make thy tongue
                      Undo this wicked Oath, or on thy flesh
                      I'le print a thousand wounds to let out life.

    Evad. I fear thee not, do what thou dar'st to me;
                       Every ill-sounding word, or threatning look
                       Thou shew'st to me, will be reveng'd at full.

    Amint. It will not sure Evadne.

    Evad. Do not you hazard that.

    Amint. Ha'ye your Champions?

    Evad. Alas Amintor, thinkst thou I forbear
                      To sleep with thee, because I have put on
                      A maidens strictness? look upon these cheeks,
                      And thou shalt find the hot and rising blood
                      Unapt for such a vow; no, in this heart
                      There dwels as much desire, and as much will
                      To put that wisht 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 soe're
                      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.

    Amint. No, let me know the man that wrongs me so,
                      That I may cut his body into motes,
                      And scatter it before the Northern wind.

    Evad. You dare not strike him.

    Amint. Do not wrong me so;
                      Yes, if his body were a poysonous plant,
                      That it were death to touch, I have a soul
                      Will throw me on him.

    Evad. Why 'tis the King.

    Amint. The King!

    Evad. What will you do now?

    Amint. 'Tis not the King.

    Evad. What, did he make this match for dull Amintor?

    Amint. 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
                      Dares lift his hand against it? let the Gods
                      Speak to him when they please;
                      Till then let us suffer and wait.

    Evad. Why should you fill your self so full of heat,
                      And haste so to my bed? I am no Virgin.

    Amint. 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.

    Amint. What a strange thing am I!

    Evad. A miserable one; one that my self am sorry for.

    Amint. Why shew 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,
                       Shall bless thy memory, and call thee good,
                       Because such mercy in thy heart was found,
                       To rid a lingring Wretch.

    Evad. I must have one
                       To fill thy room again, if thou wert dead,
                       Else by this night I would: I pity thee.

    Amint. These strange and sudden injuries have faln
                      So thick upon me, that I lose all sense
                      Of what they are: methinks I am not wrong'd,
                      Nor is it ought, if from the censuring World
                       I can but hide it—Reputation,
                      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 thy self.

    Evad. To cover shame I took thee, never fear
                      That I would blaze my self.

    Amint. Nor let the King
                      Know I conceive he wrongs me, then mine honour
                      Will thrust me into action, that my flesh
                      Could bear with patience; and it is some ease
                      To me in these extreams, that I knew this
                      Before I toucht thee; else had all the sins
                      Of mankind stood betwixt me and the King,
                       I had gone through 'em to his heart and thine.
                       I have lost one desire, 'tis not his crown
                       Shall buy me to thy bed: now I resolve
                       He has dishonour'd thee; give me thy hand,
                       Be careful of thy credit, and sin close,
                       'Tis all I wish; upon thy Chamber-floore
                       I'le rest to night, that morning visiters
                       May think we did as married people use.
                       And prethee smile upon me when they come,
                       And seem to toy, as if thou hadst been pleas'd
                       With what we did.

    Evad. Fear not, I will do this.

    Amint. Come let us practise, and as wantonly
                      As ever loving Bride and Bridegroom met,
                      Lets laugh and enter here.

    Evad. I am content.

    Amint. Down all the swellings of my troubled heart.
                      When we walk thus intwin'd, let all eyes see
                      If ever Lovers better did agree.

                         [Exit.

      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 your selves,
                      Learn to be flattered, and believe, and bless
                      The double tongue that did it;
                      Make a Faith out of the miracles of Ancient Lovers.
                      Did you ne're love yet Wenches? speak Olympias,
                      Such as speak truth and dy'd in't,
                      And like me believe all faithful, and be miserable;
                      Thou hast an easie temper, fit for stamp.

    Olymp. Never.

    Asp. Nor you Antiphila?

    Ant. Nor I.

    Asp. Then my good Girles, be more than Women, wise.
                      At least be more than I was; and be sure you credit any
                      thing the light gives light 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 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 aspicks,
                      and of them make Lovers, they cannot flatter nor
                      forswear; one kiss makes a long peace for all; but
                      man, Oh that beast man!
                      Come lets be sad my Girles;
                      That down cast of thine eye, Olympias,
                      Shews a fine sorrow; mark Antiphila,
                      Just such another was the Nymph Oenone,
                      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 tyed fast her eyes
                      To the fair Trojan ships, and having lost them,
                      Just as thine eyes do, 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: 'tis enough my Wench;
                      Shew me the piece of Needle-work you wrought.

    Ant. Of Ariadne, Madam?

    Asp. Yes that piece.
                     This should be Theseus, h'as a cousening 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 ;
                     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?
                      But they are all as ill. This false smile was well
                      exprest;
                      Just such another caught me; you shall not go
                      so Antiphila,
                      In this place work a quick-sand,
                      And over it a shallow smiling Water.
                      And his ship ploughing it, and then a fear.
                      Do that fear to the life Wench.

    Ant. 'Twill wrong the story.

     Asp. 'Twill make the story wrong'd by wanton Poets
                     Live long and be believ'd; but where's the Lady?

    Ant. There Madam.

    Asp. Fie, you have mist it here Antiphila,
                     You are much mistaken Wench;
                     These colours are not dull and pale enough,
                     To shew a soul so full of misery
                     As this sad Ladies was; do it by me,
                     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
                     Mine arms thus, and mine hair blown with the wind,
                     Wild as that desart, and let all about me
                     Tell that I am forsaken, do my face

                     (If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow)
                     Thus, thus, Antiphila strive to make me look
                     Like sorrows monument; and the trees about me,
                     Let them be dry and leaveless; let the Rocks
                     Groan with continual surges, and behind me
                     Make all a desolation; look, look Wenches,
                     A miserable life 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;
                     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?
                     What at your ease? is this a time to sit still? up you
                     young
                     Lazie Whores, up or I'le sweng you.

     Olym. Nay, good my Lord.

    Cal. You'l lie down shortly, get you in and work;
                     What are you grown so resty? you want ears,
                     We shall have some of the Court boys do that Office.

    Ant. My Lord we do no more than we are charg'd:
                     It is the Ladies pleasure we be thus in grief;
                     She is forsaken.

                     Cal. There's a Rogue too,
                     A young dissembling slave; well, get you in,
                     I'le have a bout with that boy; 'tis high time
                     Now to be valiant; I confess my youth
                     Was never prone that way: what, made an Ass?
                     A Court stale? well I will be valiant,
                     And beat some dozen of these Whelps; I will; and there's
                     Another of 'em, a trim cheating souldier,
                     I'le maul that Rascal, h'as out-brav'd me twice;
                     But now I thank the Gods I am valiant;
                     Go, get you in, I'le take a course with all.

                         [Exeunt Omnes.

    Actus Tertius.

      Enter Cleon, Strato, Diphilus.

    Cle. Your sister is not up yet.

    Diph. Oh, Brides must take their mornings rest,
                     The night is troublesome.

    Stra. But not tedious.

    Diph. What odds, he has not my Sisters maiden-head to
                     night?

    Stra. No, it's odds against any Bridegroom living, he
                     ne're gets it while he lives.

    Diph. Y'are merry with my Sister, you'l please to allow
                     me the same freedom with your Mother.

    Stra. She's at your service.

    Diph. Then she's merry enough of her self, she needs
                     no tickling; knock at the door.

    Stra. We shall interrupt them.

    Diph. No matter, they have the year before them.
                     Good morrow Sister; spare your self to day, the night
                     will come again.

                         [Enter Amintor.

    Amint. Who's there, my Brother? I am no readier yet,
                     your Sister is but now up.

    Diph. You look as you had lost your eyes to night; I
                     think you ha' not slept.

    Amint. I faith I have not.

    Diph. You have done better then.

    Amint. We ventured for a Boy; when he is Twelve,
                     He shall command against the foes of Rhodes.

    Stra. You cannot, you want sleep.
                         [Aside.

    Amint. 'Tis true; but she
                     As if she had drunk Lethe, or had made
                     Even with Heaven, did fetch so still a sleep,
                     So sweet and sound.

    Diph. What's that?

    Amint. 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.

    Diph. Then I had lost; I was about to lay, you had not
                     got her Maiden-head to night.

    Amint. Ha! he does not mock me; y'ad lost indeed;
                     I do not use to bungle.

    Cleo. You do deserve her.

    Amint. I laid my lips to hers, and [t]hat wild breath
                     That was rude and rough to me, last night

                         [Aside.

                     Was sweet as April; I'le 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,
                     And that is nearer.

    Amint. Dear Melantius!
                     Let me behold thee; is it possible?

    Mel. What sudden gaze is this?

    Amint. 'Tis wonderous strange.

     Mel. Why does thine eye desire so strict a view
                     Of that it knows so well?
                     There's nothing here that is not thine.

     Amint. I wonder much Melantius,
                     To see those noble looks that make me think
                     How vertuous thou art; and on the sudden
                     'Tis strange to me, thou shouldst have worth and honour,
                     Or not be base, and false, and treacherous,
                     And every ill. But—

     Mel. Stay, stay my Friend,
                     I fear this sound will not become our loves; no more,
                     embrace me.

    Amint. Oh mistake me not;
                     I know thee to be full of all those deeds
                     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,
                     And shoots 'em at the Sun, destroying all
                     He carries on him. O how near am I

                         [Aside.

                     To utter my sick thoughts!

    Mel. But why, my Friend, should I be so by Nature?

     Amin. I have wed thy Sister, who hath vertuous thoughts
                     Enough for one whole family, and it is strange
                     That you should feel no want.

    Mel. Believe me, this complement's too cunning for me.

     Diph. What should I be then by the course of nature,
                     They having both robb'd me of so much vertue?

    Strat. O 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. My Lord!
                         [Within.

    Amint. Come forth my Love,
                     Your Brothers do attend to wish you joy.

    Evad. I am not ready yet.

    Amint. Enough, enough.

     Evad. They'l mock me.

    Amint. 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. O Sister, what have you done!

     Evad. I done! why, what have I done?

    Strat. My Lord Amintor swears you are no Maid now.

    Evad. Push!

    Strat. I faith he does.

    Evad. I knew I should be mockt.

    Diph. With a truth.

    Evad. If 'twere to do again, in faith I would not marry.

    Amint. Not I by Heaven.
                         [Aside.

     Diph. Sister, Dula swears she heard you cry two rooms off.

    Evad. Fie how you talk!

    Diph. Let's see you walk.

    Evad. By my troth y'are spoil'd.

    Mel. Amintor!

    Amint. Ha!

    Mel. Thou art sad.

    Amint. Who I? I thank you for that, shall Diphilus,
                     thou and I sing a catch?

    Mel. How!

    Amint. Prethee let's.

    Mel. Nay, that's too much the other way.

    Amint. I am so lightned with my happiness: how dost
                     thou Love? kiss me.

    Evad. I cannot love you, you tell tales of me.

    Amint. Nothing but what becomes us: Gentlemen,
                     Would you had all such Wives, and all the world,
                     That I might be no wonder; y'are all sad;
                     What, do you envie me? I walk methinks
                     On water, and ne're sink, I am so light.

    Mel. 'Tis well you are so.

    Amint. Well? how can I be other, when she looks thus?
                     Is there no musick there? let's dance.

    Mel. Why? this is strange, Amintor!

     Amint. I do not know my self;
                     Yet I could wish my joy were less.

    Diph. I'le marry too, if it will make one thus.

    Evad. Amintor, hark. [Aside.

    Amint. What says my Love? I must obey.

    Evad. You do it scurvily, 'twill be perceiv'd.

    Cle. My Lord the King is here.

                         [Enter King and Lysi.

    Amint. 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 anothers;
                     How lik't you your nights rest?

    Evad. Ill Sir.

    Amint. I! 'deed she took but little.

    Lys. You'l let her take more, and thank her too shortly.

    King. Amintor, wert thou truly honest
                     Till thou wert Married?

    Amint. Yes Sir.

    King. Tell me then, how shews the sport unto thee?

    Amint. Why well.

    King. What did you do?

    Amint. No more nor less than other couples use;
                     You know what 'tis; it has but a course name.

    King. But prethee, I should think by her black eye,
                     And her red cheek, she should be quick and stirring
                     In this same business, ha?

    Amint. I cannot tell, I ne're try'd other Sir, but I perceive
                     She is as quick as you delivered.

    King. Well, you'l trust me then Amintor,
                     To choose a Wife for you agen?

    Amint. No never Sir.

    King. Why? like you this so ill?

    Amint. 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 to hope we shall draw out
                     A long contented life together here,
                     And die both full of gray 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
                     Worthy to take her room.

    King. I do not like this; all forbear the room
                     But you Amintor and your Lady. I have some speech with
                     You, that may concern your after living well.
                     Amint. He 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 a jealous pang!

    Amint. Sir, I dare trust my Wife
                     With whom she dares to talk, and not be jealous.

    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,
                     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 subtile Womans ignorance
                     Will not excuse you; thou hast taken Oaths
                     So great, methought they did not well become
                     A Womans mouth, that thou wouldst ne're enjoy
                     A man but me.

    Evad. I never did swear so; you do me wrong.

    King. Day and night have heard it.

    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,
                     Not with mine eyes; but if I ever yet
                     Toucht any other, Leprosie 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 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 saies himself so.

    Evad. He lyes.

    King. He does not.

    Evad. By this light he does, strangely and basely, and
                     I'le prove it so; I did not shun him for a night,
                     But told him I would never close with him.

     King. Speak lower, 'tis false.

    Evad. I'm no man to answer with a blow;
                     Or if I were, you are the King; but urge me not, 'tis
                     most true.

    King. Do not I know the uncontrouled thoughts
                     That youth brings with him, when his bloud is high
                     With expectation and desires of that
                     He long hath waited for? is not his spirit,
                     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 ruine thee for ever? if he had not kill'd thee,
                     He could not bear it thus; he is as we,
                     Or any other wrong'd man.

    Evad. It is dissembling.

    King. Take him; farewel; henceforth I am thy foe;
                     And what disgraces I can blot thee, look for.

    Evad. Stay Sir; Amintor, you shall hear, Amintor.

    Amint. What my Love?

    Evad. Amintor, thou hast an ingenious look,
                     And shouldst be vertuous; it amazeth me,
                     That thou canst make such base malicious lyes.

    Amint. What my dear Wife?

    Evad. Dear Wife! I do despise thee;
                     Why, nothing can be baser, than to sow
                     Dissention amongst Lovers.

    Amint. Lovers! who?

    Evad. The King and me.

    Amint. O Heaven!

    Evad. Who should live long, and love without distaste,
                     Were it not for such pickthanks as thy self!
                     Did you lie with me? swear now, and be punisht in hell
                     For this.

    Amint. The faithless Sin I made
                     To fair Aspatia, is not yet reveng'd,
                     It follows me; I will not lose a word
                     To this wild Woman; but to you my King,
                     The anguish of my soul thrusts out this truth,
                     Y'are 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 lyed.

    Amint. You that can know to wrong, should know how
                     Men must right themselves: what punishment is due
                     From me to him that shall abuse my bed!
                     It is not death; nor can that satisfie,
                     Unless I send your lives through all the Land,
                     To shew how nobly I have freed my self.

    King. Draw not thy Sword, thou knowest I cannot fear
                     A subjects hand; but thou shalt feel the weight of this
                     If thou dost rage.

    Amint. The weight of that?
                     If you have any worth, for Heavens sake think
                     I fear not Swords; for as you are meer man,
                     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
                     To cut mine own flesh, if it be your will.
                     Alas! I am nothing but a multitude
                     Of walking griefs; yet should I murther you,
                     I might before the world take the excuse
                     Of madness: for compare my injuries,
                     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
                     To make thus wretched? there were thousand fools
                     Easie to work on, and of state enough within the Island.

    Evad. I would not have a fool, it were no credit for me.

    Amint. Worse and worse!
                     Thou that dar'st talk unto thy Husband thus,
                     Profess thy self 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'ne
                     another.

    King. No; for I believe thee honest, as thou wert valiant.

    Amint. All the happiness
                     Bestow'd upon me, turns into disgrace;
                     Gods take your honesty again, for I
                     Am loaden with it; good my Lord the King, be private
                      in it.

    King. Thou may'st live Amintor,
                     Free as thy King, if thou wilt wink at this,
                     And be a means that we may meet in secret.

    Amint. A Baud! hold my breast, a bitter curse
                     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.

    King. Well I am resolute you lay not with her,
                     And so leave you.

                         [Exit King.

    Evad. You must be prating, and see what follows.

    Amint. Prethee vex me not.
                     Leave me, I am afraid some sudden start
                     Will pull a murther on me.

    Evad. I am gone; I love my life well.

                         [Exit Evadne.

    Amint. I hate mine as much.
                     This 'tis to break a troth; I should be glad
                     If all this tide of grief would make me mad.

                         [Exit.

      Enter Melantius.

    Mel. I'le know the cause of all Amintors griefs,
                     Or friendship shall be idle.

                         [Enter Calianax.

    Cal. O Melantius, my Daughter will die.

    Mel. Trust me, I am sorry; would thou hadst ta'ne her room.

    Cal. Thou art a slave, a cut-throat slave, a bloody treacherous
                      slave.

    Melan. 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
                     Thy years, not thee so much, that I could wish
                     To laugh at thee alone.

    Cal. I'le spoil your mirth, I mean to fight with thee;
                     There lie my Cloak, this was my Fathers Sword,
                     And he durst fight; are you prepar'd?

    Mel. Why? wilt thou doat thy self 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, when you stand safe
                     Amongst a multitude; but I will try
                     What you dare do unto a weak old man
                     In single fight; you'l ground I fear: Come draw.

    Mel. I will not draw, unless thou pul'st thy death
                     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. I must let him alone,
                     He's stout and able; and to say the truth,
                     However I may set a face, and talk,
                     I am not valiant: when I was a youth,
                     I kept my credit with a testie trick I had,
                     Amongst cowards, but durst never fight.

    Mel. I will not promise to preserve your life if you do stay.

    Cal. I would give half my Land that I durst fight with
                     that proud man a little: if I had men to hold, I would
                     beat him, till he ask me mercy.

    Mel. Sir, will you be gone?

    Cal. I dare not stay, but I will go home, and beat my
                     servants all over for this.

                         [Exit Calianax.

    Mel. This old fellow haunts me,
                     But the distracted carriage of mine Amintor
                     Takes deeply on me, I will find the cause;
                     I fear his Conscience cries, he wrong'd Aspatia.

      Enter Amintor.

    Amint. Mens eyes are not so subtil to perceive
                     My inward misery; I bear my grief
                     Hid from the World; how art thou wretched then?
                     For ought I know, all Husbands are like me;
                     And every one I talk with of his Wife,
                     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 friendship of late,
                     for we were wont to charge our souls in talk.

    Amint. Melantius, I can tell thee a good jest of Strato and
                     a Lady the last day.

    Mel. How wast?

    Amint. Why such an odd one.

    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.

    Amint. What is that my friend?

    Mel. I have observ'd, your words fall from your tongue
                     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:
                     Some sadness sits here, which your cunning would
                     Cover o're with smiles, and 'twill not be. What is it?

    Amint. A sadness here! what cause
                     Can fate provide for me, to make me so?
                     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 colour, in her heart
                     A prison for all vertue? are not you,
                     Which is above all joyes, 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
                     In chast embraces, that you will indeed appear another.

    Mel. You may shape, Amintor,
                     Causes to cozen the whole world withal,
                     And your self too; but 'tis not like a friend,
                     To hide your soul from me; 'tis not your nature
                     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'le search an unknown Land,
                     And there plant friendship, all is withered here;
                     Come with a complement, I would have fought,
                     Or told my friend he ly'd, ere sooth'd him so;
                     Out of my bosom.

    Amint. But there is nothing.

    Mel. Worse and worse; farewel;
                     From this time have acquaintance, but no friend.

    Amint. Melantius, stay, you shall know what that is.

    Mel. See how you play'd with friendship; be advis'd
                     How you give cause unto your self to say, You ha'lost
                     a friend.

    Amint. Forgive what I have done;
                     For I am so ore-gone 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
                     Hath turn'd my friend thus?

    Amint. I had spoke at first, but that.

    Mel. But what?

    Amint. I held it most unfit
                     For you to know; faith do not know it yet.

    Mel. Thou seest my love, that will keep company
                     With thee in tears; hide nothing then from me;
                     For when I know the cause of thy distemper,
                     With mine own armour I'le adorn my self,
                     My resolution, and cut through thy foes,
                     Unto thy quiet, till I place thy heart
                     As peaceable as spotless innocence. What is it?

    Amint. Why, 'tis this—it is too big
                     To get out, let my tears make way a while.

    Mel. Punish me strangely heaven, if he escape
                     Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this.

    Amint. Your Sister.

    Mel. Well said.

    Amint. You'l wish't unknown, when you have heard it.

    Mel. No.

    Amint. Is much to blame,
                     And to the King has given her honour up,
                     And lives in Whoredom with him.

    Mel. How, this!
                     Thou art run mad with injury indeed,
                     Thou couldst not utter this else; speak again,
                     For I forgive it freely; tell thy griefs.

    Amint. 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?

    Amint. 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,
                     With what unwillingness I go to scourge
                     This Rayler, whom my folly hath call'd Friend;
                     I will not take thee basely; thy sword
                     Hangs near thy hand, draw it, that I may whip
                     Thy rashness to repentance; draw thy sword.

    Amint. Not on thee, did thine anger swell 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! they that use to utter lyes,
                     Provide not blows, but words to qualifie
                     The men they wrong'd; thou hast a guilty cause.

    Amint. Thou pleasest me; for so much more like this,
                     Will raise my anger up above my griefs,
                     Which is a passion easier to be born,
                     And I shall then be happy.

    Mel. Take then more to raise thine anger. 'Tis meer
                     Cowardize 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,
                     I'le make thy memory loath'd, and fix a scandal
                     Upon thy name for ever.

    Amint. Then I draw,
                     As justly as our Magistrates their Swords,
                     To cut offenders off; I knew before
                     'Twould grate your ears; but it was base in you
                     To urge a weighty secret from your friend,
                     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 out-live you.

    Mel. Stay a while.
                     The name of friend is more than family,
                     Or all the world besides; I was a fool.
                     Thou searching humane nature, that didst wake
                     To do me wrong, thou art inquisitive,
                     And thrusts me upon questions that will take
                     My sleep away; would I had died ere known
                     This sad dishonour; pardon me my friend;
                     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,
                     A Leprous one, put up thy sword young man.

    Amint. How should I bear it then, she being so?
                     I fear my friend that you will lose me shortly;
                     And I shall do a foul action my self
                     Through these disgraces.

    Mel. Better half the Land
                     Were buried quick together; no, Amintor,
                     Thou shalt have ease: O this Adulterous King
                     That drew her to't! where got he the spirit
                     To wrong me so?

    Amint. What is it then to me,
                     If it be wrong to you!

    Mel. Why, not so much: the credit of our house
                     Is thrown away;
                     But from his Iron Den I'le waken death,
                     And hurle him on this King; my honesty
                     Shall steel my sword, and on its horrid point
                     I'le wear my cause, that shall amaze the eyes
                     Of this proud man, and be too glittering
                     For him to look on.

    Amint. I have quite undone my fame.

    Mel. Dry up thy watry eyes,
                     And cast a manly look upon my face;
                     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 my heart at peace.

    Amint. It must not be so; stay, mine eyes would tell
                     How loth I am to this; but love and tears
                     Leave me a while, for I have hazarded
                     All this world calls happy; thou hast wrought
                     A secret from me under name of Friend,
                     Which Art could ne're have found, nor torture wrung
                     From out my bosom; give it me agen,
                     For I will find it, wheresoe're 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.

    Amint. 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.

    Mel. Hear thy friend, that bears more years than thou.

    Amint. I will not hear: but draw, or I——

    Mel. Amintor.

    Amint. Draw then, for I am full as resolute
                     As fame and honour can inforce me be;
                     I cannot linger, draw.

    Mel. I do—but is not
                     My share of credit equal with thine if I do stir?

    Amint. No; for it will be cal'd
                     Honour in thee to spill thy Sisters 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—O that word! be quick.

    Mel. Then joyn with me.

    Amint. I dare not do a sin, 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 agen,
                     And to thy self pronounce the name of friend,
                     And see what that will work; I will not fight.

    Amint. You must.

    Mel. I will be kill'd first, though my passions
                     Offred the like to you; 'tis not this earth
                     Shall buy my reason to it; think a while,
                     For you are (I must weep when I speak that)
                     Almost besides your self.

    Amint. Oh my soft temper!
                     So many sweet words from thy Sisters mouth,
                     I am afraid would make me take her
                     To embrace, and pardon her. I am mad indeed,
                     And know not what I do; yet have a care
                     Of me in what thou doest.

    Mel. Why thinks my friend I will forget his honour, or to save
                     The bravery of our house, will lose his fame,
                     And fear to touch the Throne of Majesty?

    Amint. A curse will follow that, but rather live
                     And suffer with me.

    Mel. I will do what worth shall bid me, and no more.

    Amint. Faith I am sick, and desperately I hope,
                     Yet leaning thus, I feel a kind of ease.

    Mel. Come take agen your mirth about you.

    Amint. I shall never do't.

    Mel. I warrant you, look up, wee'l walk together,
                     Put thine arm here, all shall be well agen.

    Amint. Thy Love, O wretched, I thy Love, Melantius;
                     why, I have nothing else.

    Mel. Be merry then.

                         [Exeunt. Enter Melantius agen.

    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: Diphilus,
                     Thou com'st as sent.

                         [Enter Diphilus.

    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.

    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 my self and find it.

    Mel. That was spoke according to our strain; come
                     Joyn 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.

    Mel. It is as nobly said as I would wish;
                     Anon I'le tell you wonders; we are wrong'd.

    Diph. But I will tell you now, wee'l right our selves.

    Mel. Stay not, prepare the armour in my house;
                     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:
                     To take revenge, and lose my self 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

                         [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. 'Tis well;
                     If I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet.

    Mel. Y'are touchie without all cause.

    Cal. Do, mock me.

    Mel. By mine honour I speak truth.

    Cal. Honour? where is't?

    Mel. See what starts you make into your hatred to my
                     love and freedom to you.—
                     I come with resolution to obtain a suit of you.

    Cal. A suit of me! 'tis very like it should be granted, Sir.

    Mel. Nay, go not hence;
                     'Tis 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 into my hands.

    Cal. I am in hope that 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 Traytor!

    Mel. Nay but stay; I cannot scape, the deed once done,
                     Without I have this fort.

    Cal. And should I help thee? now thy treacherous mind
                     betrays it self.

    Mel. Come, delay me not;
                     Give me a sudden answer, or already
                     Thy last is spoke; refuse not offered love,
                     When it comes clad in secrets.

    Cal. 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'l 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.

    Mel. Take it—I know this goes unto the King,
                     But I am arm'd.
                         [Ex. Melant.

    Cal. Me thinks I feel my self
                     But twenty now agen; this fighting fool
                     Wants Policy; I shall revenge my Girl,
                     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.

    Actus Quartus.

      Enter Melantius, Evadne, and a Lady.

    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 command me; I am bashful;
                     Come Sir, how do I look?

    Mel. I would not have your women hear me
                     Break into commendation of you, 'tis not seemly.

    Evad. Go wait me in the Gallery—now speak.

    Mel. I'le lock the door first.

                         [Exeunt Ladies.

    Evad. Why?

    Mel. I will not have your guilded things that dance in
                     visitation with their Millan skins 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, 'twill make me sad.

    Mel. Such a sad commendation I have for you.

    Evad. Brother, the Court hath made you witty,
                     And learn to riddle.

    Mel. I praise the Court for't; has it learned you nothing?

    Evad. Me?

    Mel. I Evadne, thou art young and handsom,
                     A Lady of a sweet complexion,
                     And such a flowing carriage, that it cannot
                     Chuse but inflame a Kingdom.

    Evad. Gentle Brother!

    Mel. 'Tis yet in thy remembrance, foolish woman,
                     To make me gentle.

    Evad. How is this?

    Mel. 'Tis base,
                     And I could blush at these years, through all
                     My honour'd scars, to come to such a parly.

    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
                     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 she had Twins within her.

    Evad. This is saucy;
                     Look you intrude no more, there lies your way.

    Mel. Thou art my way, and I will tread upon thee,
                     Till I find truth out.

    Evad. What truth is that you look for?

    Mel. Thy long-lost honour: would the Gods had set me
                     One of their loudest bolts; come tell me quickly,
                     Do it without enforcement, and take heed
                     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 lyed.

    Mel. Do not play with mine anger, do not Wretch,
                     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
                     Whose Whore you are, for you are one, I know it.
                     Let all mine honours perish but I'le find him,
                     Though he lie lockt up in thy blood; be sudden;
                     There is no facing it, and be not flattered;
                     The burnt air, when the Dog raigns, is not fouler
                     Than thy contagious name, till thy repentance
                     (If the Gods grant thee any) purge thy sickness.

    Evad. Be gone, you are my Brother, that's your safety.

    Mel. I'le be a Wolf first; 'tis to be thy Brother
                     An infamy below the sin of a Coward:
                     I am as far from being part of thee,
                     As thou art from thy vertue: 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,
                     I'le 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. Y'are grown a glorious Whore; where be your
                     Fighters? what mortal Fool durst raise thee to this
                     daring,
                     And I alive? by my just Sword, h'ad safer
                     Bestride a Billow when the angry North
                     Plows up the Sea, or made Heavens fire his food;
                     Work me no higher; will you discover yet?

    Evad. The Fellow's mad, sleep and speak sense.

    Mel. Force my swollen 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,
                     and damns away his soul to do thee service, will
                     sooner fetch meat from a hungry Lion, than come to
                     rescue thee; thou hast death about thee: h'as
                     undone thine honour, poyson'd thy vertue, and of a
                     lovely rose, left thee a canker.

    Evad. Let me consider.

    Mel. Do, whose child thou wert,
                     Whose honour thou hast murdered, whose grave open'd,
                     And so pull'd on the Gods, that in their justice
                     They must restore him flesh again and life,
                     And raise his dry bones to revenge his scandal.

    Evad. The gods are not of my mind; they had better
                     let 'em lie sweet still in the earth; they'l stink here.

    Mel. Do you raise mirth out of my easiness?
                     Forsake me then all weaknesses of Nature,
                     That make men women: Speak you whore, speak truth,
                     Or by the dear soul of thy sleeping Father,
                     This sword shall be thy lover: tell, or I'le kill thee:
                     And when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it.

    Evad. You will not murder me!

    Mel. No, 'tis a justice, and a noble one,
                     To put the light out of such base offenders.

    Evad. Help!

    Mel. By thy foul self, no humane 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 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.

    Evad. Oh I am miserable.

    Mel. 'Tis 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 too mightie for me.

    Mel. Do not fall back again; my sword's unsheath'd yet.

    Evad. What shall I do?

    Mel. Be true, and make your fault less.

    Evad. I dare not tell.

     Mel. Tell, or I'le be this day a killing thee.

    Evad. Will you forgive me then?

    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 conscience, that's too many. Who is't?

    Evad. O hear me gently; it was the King.

    Mel. No more. My worthy father's and my services
                     Are liberally rewarded! King, I thank thee,
                     For all my dangers and my wounds, thou hast paid me
                     In my own metal: These are Souldiers thanks.
                     How long have you liv'd thus Evadne?

    Evad. Too long.

    Mel. Too late you find it: can you be sorry?

    Evad. Would I were half as blameless.

    Mel. Evadne, thou wilt to thy trade again.

    Evad. First to my grave.

    Mel. Would gods th'hadst been so blest:
                     Dost thou not hate this King now? prethee hate him:
                     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 any loose flame
                     hereafter.

    Mel. Dost thou not feel amongst 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, they are dishonoured in him.

    Evad. 'Tis too fearful.

    Mel. Y'are valiant in his bed, and bold enough
                     To be a stale whore, and have your Madams name
                     Discourse for Grooms and Pages, and hereafter
                     When his cool Majestie hath laid you by,
                     To be at pension with some needy Sir
                     For meat and courser clothes, thus far you know no fear.
                     Come, you shall kill him.

    Evad. Good Sir!

    Mel. And 'twere to kiss him dead, thou'd smother him;
                     Be wise and kill him: Canst thou live and know
                     What noble minds shall make thee see thy self
                     Found out with every finger, made the shame
                     Of all successions, and in this great ruine
                     Thy brother and thy noble husband broken?
                     Thou shalt not live thus; kneel and swear to help me
                     When I shall call thee to it, or by all
                     Holy in heaven and earth, thou shalt not live
                     To breath a full hour longer, not a thought:
                     Come 'tis a righteous oath; give me thy hand,
                     And both to heaven held up, swear by that wealth
                     This lustful thief stole from thee, when I say it,
                     To let his foul soul out.

    Evad. Here I swear it,
                     And all you spirits of abused Ladies
                     Help me in this performance.

    Mel. Enough; this must be known to none
                     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, I as far as Justice.
                     Ask me not why. Farewell.

                         [Exit Mel.

    Evad. Would I could say so to my black disgrace.
                     Oh where have I been all this time! how friended,
                     That I should lose my self thus desperately,
                     And none for pity shew me how I wandred?
                     There is not in the compass of the light
                     A more unhappy creature: sure I am monstrous,
                     For I have done those follies, those mad mischiefs,
                     Would dare a woman. O my loaden soul,
                     Be not so cruel to me, choak not up

                         [Enter Amintor.

                     The way to my repentance. O my Lord.

    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 no new way to beget more sorrow;
                     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 into my natural wilderness,
                     And do an out-rage: pray thee 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, even with my life:
                     That slight contrition, that's no sacrifice
                     For what I have committed.

    Amin. Sure I dazle:
                     There cannot be a faith in that foul woman
                     That knows no God more mighty than her mischiefs:
                     Thou dost still worst, still number on thy faults,
                     To press my poor heart thus. Can I believe
                     There's any seed of Vertue in that woman
                     Left to shoot up, that dares go on in sin
                     Known, and so known as thine is, O 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;
                     Thou hast brought me to the 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 remembring that I grieve.

    Evad. My Lord,
                     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
                     What my hot will hath done, which heaven and you
                     Knows to be tougher than the hand of time
                     Can cut from mans remembrance; no I do not;
                     I do appear the same, the same Evadne,
                     Drest in the shames I liv'd in, the same monster.
                     But these are names of honour, to what I am;
                     I do present my self the foulest creature,
                     Most poysonous, dangerous, and despis'd of men,
                     Lerna e're bred, or Nilus; I am hell,
                     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;
                     Make thy self 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 eyes, if thou plai'st
                     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 heavens honours have their ends, and good ones,
                     All but the cousening Crocodiles, false women;
                     They reign here like those plagues, those killing sores
                     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 dayes I shall number to my rest,
                     (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 some thing that is near it;
                     I will redeem one minute of my age,
                     Or like another Niobe I'le 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,
                     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,
                     And pray the gods to give thee happy dayes:
                     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,
                     The last kiss we must take; and would to heaven
                     The holy Priest that gave our hands together,
                     Had given us equal Vertues: go Evadne,
                     The gods thus part our bodies, have a care
                     My honour falls no farther, I am well then.

    Evad. All the dear joyes here, and above hereafter
                     Crown thy fair soul: thus I take leave my Lord,
                     And never shall you see the foul Evadne
                     Till sh'ave tryed all honoured means that may
                     Set her in rest, and wash her stains away.

                         [Exeunt.

      Banquet. Enter King, Calianax. Hoboyes 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'le justifie 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
                     To kill me, and then escape?

    Cal. If he deny it, I'le make him blush.

    King. It sounds incredibly.

    Cal. I, so does every thing I say of late.

    King. Not so Calianax.

    Cal. Yes, I should sit
                     Mute, whilst a Rogue with strong arms cuts your throat.

    King. Well, I will try him, and if this be true
                     I'le pawn my life I'le find it; if't be false,
                     And that you clothe your hate in such a lie,
                     You shall hereafter doat in your own house, not in the
                     Court.

    Cal. Why if it be a lie,
                     Mine ears are false; for I'le 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 of it; you would ha' trusted me
                     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, my self.

    King. No more I mean there were that heard it.

     Cal. How no more? would you have more? why am
                     Not I enough to hang a thousand Rogues?

    King. But so you may hang honest men too if you please.

    Cal. I may, 'tis 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 'tis hard if my Word cannot hang a boysterous knave.

    King. Enough; where's Strato?

    Stra. Sir!

       Enter Strato.

    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

                         [Exit Strato.

                     That are without there: if he should desire
                     The combat of you, 'tis not in the power
                     Of all our Laws to hinder it, unless we mean to
                     quit 'em.

    Cal. Why if you do think
                     'Tis fit an old Man and a Counsellor,
                     To fight for what he sayes, then you may grant it.

      Enter Amin. Evad. Mel. Diph. [Lisip.] Cle. Stra. Diag.

    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
                     A merry Tale about him, to raise a laughter
                     Amongst our wine? why Strato, where art thou?
                     Thou wilt chop out with them unseasonably
                     When I desire 'em not.

    Strato. 'Tis my ill luck Sir, so to spend them then.

    King. Reach me a boul of wine: Melantlius, thou art sad.

    Amin. I should be Sir the merriest here,
                     But I ha' ne're a story of mine own
                     Worth telling at this time.

    King. Give me the Wine.
                     Melantius, I am now considering
                     How easie 'twere for any man we trust
                     To poyson one of us in such a boul.

    Mel. I think it were not hard Sir, for a Knave.

    Cal. Such as you are.

    King. I' faith 'twere easie, it becomes us well
                     To get plain dealing men about our selves,
                     Such as you all are here: Amintor, to thee
                     And to thy fair Evadne.

    Mel. Have you thought of this Calianax?

                         [Aside.

    Cal. Yes marry have I.

    Mel. And what's your resolution?

    Cal. Ye shall have it soundly?

    King. Reach to Amintor, Strato.

    Amin. Here my love,
                     This Wine will do thee wrong, for it will set
                     Blushes upon thy cheeks, and till thou dost a
                     fault, 'twere pity.

    King. Yet I wonder much
                     Of the strange desperation of these men,
                     That dare attempt such acts here in our State;
                     He could not escape that did it.

    Mel. Were he known, unpossible.

    King. It would be known, Melantius.

    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.

    Cal. But I! heaven bless me: I, should I my Liege?

    King. I do not think thou wouldst, but yet thou might'st,
                     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,
                     'Tis clean swept: I can find no other Art
                     In keeping of it now, 'twas ne're 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,
                     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! Calianax, [Aside.
                     I cannot trust thus: I have thrown out words
                     That would have fetcht warm blood upon the cheeks
                     Of guilty men, and he is never mov'd, he knows
                     no such thing.

    Cal. Impudence may scape, when feeble vertue is accus'd.

    King. He 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,
                     What care I what he does; this he did say.

    King. Melantius, you cannot easily conceive
                     What I have meant; for men that are in fault
                     Can subtly apprehend when others aime
                     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
                     What 'tis you mean, but I am apt enough
                     Rudely to thrust into ignorant fault,
                     But let me know it; happily 'tis nought
                     But misconstruction, and where I am clear
                     I will not take forgiveness of the gods, 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 shew you
                     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,
                     Eaters, and talkers, to defame the worth
                     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't 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)
                     To kill him that spake this.

    Cal. I, 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
                     (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 thy self?

    Mel. O then it came from him.

    Cal. From me! who should it come from but from me?

    Mel. Nay, I believe your malice is enough,
                     But I ha' lost my anger. Sir, I hope you are well
                     satisfied.

    King. Lisip. Chear Amintor and his Lady; there's no sound
                     Comes from you; I will come and do't my self.

    Amin. You have done already Sir for me, I thank you.

    King. Melantius, I do credit this from him,
                     How slight so e're you mak't.

    Mel. 'Tis strange you should.

    Cal. 'Tis strange he should believe an old mans word,
                     That never lied in his life.

    Mel. I talk not to thee;
                     Shall the wild words of this distempered man,
                     Frantick with age and sorrow, make a breach
                     Betwixt your Majesty and me? 'twas wrong
                     To hearken to him; but to credit him
                     As much, at least, as I have power to bear.
                     But pardon me, whilst I speak only truth,
                     I may commend my self—I have bestow'd
                     My careless blood with you, and should be loth
                     To think an action that would make me lose
                     That, and my thanks too: when I was a boy,
                     I thrust my self into my Countries cause,
                     And did a deed that pluckt five years from time,
                     And stil'd me man then: And for you my King,
                     Your subjects all have fed by vertue of my arm.
                     This sword of mine hath plow'd the ground,
                     And reapt the fruit in peace;
                     And your self have liv'd at home in ease:
                     So terrible I grew, that without swords
                     My name hath fetcht you conquest, and my heart
                     And limbs are still the same; my will is 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,
                       I do not, let that satisfie: what struck
                      With sadness all? More Wine!

    Cal. A few fine words have overthrown my truth:
                      Ah th'art a Villain.

    Mel. Why thou wert better let me have the Fort,
                      Dotard, I will disgrace thee thus for ever;

                         [Aside.

                      There shall no credit lie upon thy words;
                      Think better and deliver it.

    Cal. My Liege, he's at me now agen to do it; speak,
                      Deny it if thou canst; examine him
                      Whilst he's hot, for he'l cool agen, 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.

    King. Mark his disordered words, and at the Mask.

    Mel. Diagoras knows he raged, and rail'd at me,
                       And cal'd a Lady Whore, so innocent
                       She understood him not; but it becomes
                       Both you and me too, to forgive distraction,
                       Pardon him as I do.

    Cal. I'le 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 age make it self contemptible; we must
                      be all old, have him away.

    Mel. Calianax, the King believes you; come, you shall go
                     Home, and rest; you ha' done well; you'l give it up
                     When I have us'd you thus a moneth I hope.

    Cal. Now, now, 'tis plain Sir, he does move me still;
                     He sayes he knows I'le give him up the Fort,
                     When he has us'd me thus a moneth: I am mad,
                      Am I not still?

    Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!

    Cal. I shall be mad indeed, if you do thus;
                      Why would you trust a sturdy fellow there
                      (That has no vertue 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 him, and without him, as you use me.

    Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!

    King. 'Tis well Calianax; but if you use
                     This once again, I shall intreat some other
                     To see your Offices be well discharg'd.
                     Be merry Gentlemen, it grows somewhat late.
                     Amintor, thou wouldest be abed again.

    Amin. Yes Sir.

    King. And you Evadne; let me take thee in my arms,
                      Melantius, and believe thou art as thou deservest to
                      be, my friend still, and for ever. Good Calianax,
                      Sleep soundly, it will bring thee to thy self.

                         [Exeunt omnes. Manent Mel. and Cal.

    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 used me?

    Mel. You cannot blast me with your tongue,
                     And that's the strongest part you have about you.

    Cal. I do look for some great punishment for this,
                     For I begin to forget all my hate,
                     And tak't unkindly that mine enemy
                     Should use me so extraordinarily scurvily.

    Mel. I shall melt too, if you begin to take
                      Unkindnesses: I never meant you hurt.

    Cal. Thou'lt anger me again; thou wretched rogue,
                      Meant me no hurt! disgrace me with the King;
                      Lose all my Offices! this is no hurt,
                      Is it? I prethee what dost thou call hurt?

    Mel. To poyson men because they love me not;
                      To call the credit of mens Wives in question;
                      To murder children betwixt me and land; this is
                      all hurt.

    Cal. All this thou think'st is sport;
                      For mine is worse: but use thy will with me;
                      For betwixt grief and anger I could cry.

    Mel. Be wise then, and be safe; thou may'st revenge.

    Cal. I o'th' King? I would revenge of thee.

    Mel. That you must plot your self.

    Cal. I am a fine plotter.

    Mel. The short is, I will hold thee with the King
                      In this perplexity, till peevishness
                      And thy disgrace have laid thee in thy grave:
                      But if thou wilt deliver up the Fort,
                      I'le take thy trembling body in my arms,
                      And bear thee over dangers; thou shalt hold thy wonted
                      state.

    Cal. If I should tell the King, can'st thou deny't again?

    Mel. Try and believe.

    Cal. Nay then, thou can'st bring any thing about:
                       Thou shalt have the Fort.

    Mel. Why well, here let our hate be buried, and
                      This hand shall right us both; give me thy aged breast
                      to compass.

    Cal. Nay, I do not love thee yet:
                       I cannot well endure to look on thee:
                      And if I thought it were a courtesie,
                      Thou should'st not have it: but I am disgrac'd;
                      My Offices are to be ta'ne away;
                      And if I did but hold this Fort a day,
                      I do believe the King would take it from me,
                      And give it thee, things are so strangely carried;
                      Nere thank me for't; but yet the King shall know
                      There was some such thing in't I told him of;
                      And that I was an honest man.

    Mel. Hee'l buy that knowledge very dearly.

                         [Enter Diphilus.

                      What news with thee?

    Diph. This were a night indeed to do it in;
                      The King hath sent for her.

    Mel. She shall perform it then; go Diphilus,
                      And take from this good man, my worthy friend,
                      The Fort; he'l give it thee.

    Diph. Ha' you got that?

    Cal. Art thou of the same breed? canst thou deny
                       This to the King too?

    Diph. With a confidence as great as his.

    Cal. Faith, like enough.

    Mel. Away, and use him kindly.

    Cal. Touch not me, I hate the whole strain: if thou
                       follow me a great way off, I'le give thee up the
                       Fort; and hang your selves.

    Mel. Be gone.

    Diph. He's finely wrought.

                         [Exeunt Cal. Diph.

    Mel. This is a night in spite of Astronomers
                      To do the deed in; I will wash the stain
                      That rests upon our House, off with his blood.

       Enter Amintor.

    Amin. Melantius, now assist me if thou beest
                      That which thou say'st, assist me: I have lost
                      All my distempers, and have found a rage so pleasing;
                      help me.

    Mel. Who can see him thus,
                      And not swear vengeance? what's the matter friend?

    Amin. Out with thy sword; and hand in hand with me
                      Rush to the Chamber of this hated King,
                      And sink him with the weight of all his sins to hell
                      for ever.

    Mel. 'Twere a rash attempt,
                      Not to be done with safety: let your reason
                      Plot your revenge, and not your passion.

    Amint. If thou refusest me in these extreams,
                       Thou art no friend: he sent for her to me;
                       By Heaven to me; my self; and I must tell ye
                       I love her as a stranger; there is worth
                       In that vile woman, worthy things, Melantius ;
                       And she repents. I'le do't my self alone,
                       Though I be slain. Farewell.

    Mel. He'l overthrow my whole design with madness:
                      Amintor, think what thou doest; I dare as much as
                      valour;
                      But 'tis the King, the King, the King, Amintor,
                      With whom thou fightest; I know he's honest,

                         [Aside.

                      And this will work with him.

    Amint. I cannot tell
                     What thou hast said; but thou hast charm'd my sword
                     Out of my hand, and left me shaking here defenceless.

    Mel. I will take it up for thee.

    Amint. What a wild beast is uncollected man!
                      The thing that we call Honour, bears us all
                      Headlong unto sin, and yet it self is nothing.

    Mel. Alas, how variable are thy thoughts!

    Amint. Just like my fortunes: I was run to that
                      I purpos'd to have chid thee for.
                      Some Plot I did distrust thou hadst against the King
                      By that old fellows carriage: but take heed,
                      There is not the least limb growing to a King,
                      But carries thunder in it.

    Mel. I have none against him.

    Amint. Why, come then, and still remember we may
                      not think revenge.

    Mel. I will remember.

    Actus Quintus.

      Enter Evadne and a Gentleman.

    Evad. Sir, is the King abed?

    Gent. Madam, an hour ago.

    Evad. Give me the key then, and let none be near;
                       'Tis the Kings pleasure.

    Gent. I understand you Madam, would 'twere mine.
                       I must not wish good rest unto your Ladiship.

    Evad. You talk, you talk.

    Gent. 'Tis all I dare do, Madam; but the King will wake,
                      and then.

    Evad. Saving your imagination, pray good night Sir.

    Gent. A good night be it then, and a long one Madam;
                      I am gone.

    Evad. The night grows horrible, and all about me
                       Like my black purpose: O the Conscience
                         [King abed.

                       Of a lost Virgin; whither wilt thou pull me?
                       To what things dismal, as the depth of Hell,
                       Wilt thou provoke me? Let no [woman] dare
                       From this hour be disloyal: if her heart
                       Be flesh, if she have blood, and can fear, 'tis a daring
                       Above that desperate fool that left his peace,
                       And went to Sea to fight: 'tis so many sins
                       An age cannot prevent 'em: and so great,
                       The gods want mercy for: yet I must through 'em.
                       I have begun a slaughter on my honour,
                       And I must end it there: he sleeps, good heavens!
                       Why give you peace to this untemperate beast
                       That hath so long transgressed you? I must kill him,
                       And I will do't bravely: the meer joy
                       Tells me I merit in it: yet I must not
                       Thus tamely do it as he sleeps: that were
                       To rock him to another world: my vengeance
                       Shall take him waking, and then lay before him
                       The number of his wrongs and punishments.
                       I'le shake his sins like furies, till I waken
                       His evil Angel, his sick Conscience:
                       And then I'le strike him dead: King, by your leave:

                         [Ties his armes to the bed.

                       I dare not trust your strength: your Grace and I
                       Must grapple upon even terms no more:
                       So, if he rail me not from my resolution,
                       I shall be strong enough.
                       My Lord the King, my Lord; he sleeps
                       As if he meant to wake no more, my Lord;
                       Is he not dead already? Sir, my Lord.

    King. Who's that?

    Evad. O you sleep soundly Sir!

    King. My dear Evadne,
                       I have been dreaming of thee; come to bed.

    Evad. I am come at length Sir, but how welcome?

    King. What pretty new device is this Evadne?
                      What do you tie me to you by my love?
                      This is a quaint one: Come my dear and kiss me;
                      I'le be thy Mars to bed my Queen of Love:
                      Let us be caught together, that the Gods may see,
                      And envy our embraces.

    Evad. Stay Sir, stay,
                       You are too hot, and I have brought you Physick
                       To temper your high veins.

    King. Prethee to bed then; let me take it warm,
                       There you shall know the state of my body better.

    Evad. I know you have a surfeited foul body,
                      And you must bleed.

    King. Bleed!

    Evad. I, you shall bleed: lie still, and if the Devil,
                     Your lust will give you leave, repent: this steel
                     Comes to redeem the honour that you stole,
                     King, my fair name, which nothing but thy death
                     Can answer to the world.

    King. How's this Evadne?

    Evad. I am not she: nor bear I in this breast
                      So much cold Spirit to be call'd a Woman:
                      I am a Tyger: I am any thing
                      That knows not pity: stir not, if thou dost,
                      I'le take thee unprepar'd; thy fears upon thee,
                      That make thy sins look double, and so send thee
                      (By my revenge I will) to look those torments
                      Prepar'd for such black souls.

    King. Thou dost not mean this: 'tis impossible:
                      Thou art too sweet and gentle.

    Evad. No, I am not:
                      I am as foul as thou art, and can number
                      As many such hells here: I was once fair,
                      Once I was lovely, not a blowing Rose
                      More chastly sweet, till tho[u], thou, thou, foul
                      Canker,
                      (Stir not) didst poyson me: I was a world of vertue,
                      Till your curst Court and you (hell bless you for't)
                      With your temptations on temptations
                      Made me give up mine honour; for which (King)
                      I am come to kill thee.

    King. No.

    Evad. I am.

    King. Thou art not.
                      I prethee speak not these things; thou art gentle,
                      And wert not meant thus rugged.

    Evad. Peace and hear me.
                      Stir nothing but your tongue, and that for mercy
                      To those above us; by whose lights I vow,
                      Those blessed fires that shot to see our sin,
                      If thy hot soul had substance with thy blood,
                      I would kill that too, which being past my steel,
                      My tongue shall teach: Thou art a shameless Villain,
                      A thing out of the overchange of Nature;
                      Sent like a thick cloud to disperse a plague
                      Upon weak catching women; such a tyrant
                      That for his Lust would sell away his Subjects,
                      I, all his heaven hereafter.

    King. Hear Evadne,
                      Thou soul of sweetness! hear, I am thy King.

    Evad. Thou art my shame; lie still, there's none about you,
                      Within your cries; all promises of safety
                      Are but deluding dreams: thus, thus, thou foul man,
                      Thus I begin my vengeance.

                         [Stabs him.

    King. Hold Evadne!
                      I do command thee hold.

    Evad. I do not mean Sir,
                     To part so fairly with you; we must change
                     More of these love-tricks yet.

    King. What bloody villain
                      Provok't thee to this murther?

    Evad. Thou, thou monster.

    King. Oh!

    Evad. Thou kept'st me brave at Court, and Whor'd me;
                       Then married me to a young noble Gentleman;
                       And Whor'd me still.

    King. Evadne, pity me.

    Evad. Hell take me then; this for my Lord Amintor;
                      This for my noble brother: and this stroke
                      For the most wrong'd of women.

                         [Kills him.

    King. Oh! I die.

    Evad. Die all our faults together; I forgive thee.

                         [Exit.

      Enter two of the Bed-Chamber.

    1. Come now she's gone, let's enter, the King expects
                      it, and will be angry.

    2. 'Tis a fine wench, we'I have a snap at her one of these
                      nights as she goes from him.

    1. Content: how quickly he had done with her! I see
                      Kings can do no more that way than other mortal people.

    2. How fast he is! I cannot hear him breathe.

    1. Either the Tapers give a feeble light, or he looks very
                      pale.

    2. And so he does, pray Heaven he be well.
                      Let's look: Alas! he's stiffe, wounded and dead:
                      Treason, Treason!

    1. Run forth and call.

                         [Exit Gent.

    2. Treason, Treason!

    1. This will be laid on us: who can believe
                      A Woman could do this?

      Enter Cleon and Lisippus.

    Cleon. How now, where's the Traytor?

    1. Fled, fled away; but there her woful act lies still.

    Cle. Her act! a Woman!

    Lis. Where's the body?

    1. There.

    Lis. Farewel thou worthy man; there were two bonds
                      That tyed our loves, a Brother and a King;
                      The least of which might fetch a flood of tears:
                      But such the misery of greatness is,
                      They have no time to mourn; then pardon me.
                      Sirs, which way went she?

                         [Enter Strato.

    Strat. Never follow her,
                      For she alas! was but the instrument.
                      News is now brought in, that Melantius
                      Has got the Fort, and stands upon the wall;
                      And with a loud voice calls those few that pass
                      At this dead time of night, delivering
                      The innocent of this act.

    Lis. Gentlemen, I am your King.

    Strat. We do acknowledge it.

    Lis. I would I were not: follow all; for this must have
                       a sudden stop.

                         [Exeunt

      Enter Melant. Diph. and Cal. on the wall.

    Mel. If the dull people can believe I am arm'd,
                      Be constant Diphilus; now we have time,
                      Either to bring our banisht honours home,
                      Or create new ones in our ends.

    Diph. I fear not;
                     My spirit lies not that way. Courage Calianax.

    Cal. Would I had any, you should quickly know it.

    Mel. Speak to the people; thou art eloquent.

    Cal. 'Tis a fine eloquence to come to the gallows;
                      You were born to be my end; the Devil take you.
                      Now must I hang for company; 'tis strange
                      I should be old, and neither wise nor valiant.

        Enter Lisip. Diag. Cleon, Strat. Guard.

    Lisip. See where he stands as boldly confident,
                      As if he had his full command about him.

    Strat. He looks as if he had the bet[t]er cause; Sir,
                      Under your gracious pardon let me speak it;
                      Though he be mighty-spirited and forward
                      To all great things; to all things of that danger
                      Worse men shake at the telling of; yet certainly
                      I do believe him noble, and this action
                      Rather pull'd on than sought; his mind was ever
                      As worthy as his hand.

    Lis. 'Tis my fear too;
                     Heaven forgive all: summon him Lord Cleon.

    Cleon. Ho from the walls there.

    Mel. Worthy Cleon, welcome;
                     We could have wisht you here Lord; you are honest.

    Cal. Well, thou art as flattering a knave, though I dare
                      not tell you so.

                         [Aside.

    Lis. Melantius!

    Mel. Sir.

    Lis. I am sorry that we meet thus; our old love
                      Never requir'd such distance; pray Heaven
                      You have not left your self, and sought this safety
                      More out of fear than honour; you have lost
                      A noble Master, which your faith Melantius,
                      Some think might have preserv'd; yet you know best.

    Cal. When time was I was mad; some that dares
                      Fight I hope will pay this Rascal.

    Mel. Royal young man, whose tears look lovely on thee;
                      Had they been shed for a deserving one,
                      They had been lasting monuments. Thy Brother,
                      Whil'st he was good, I call'd him King, and serv'd him
                      With that strong faith, that most unwearied valour;
                      Pul'd people from the farthest Sun to seek him;
                      And by his friendship, I was then his souldier;
                      But since his hot pride drew him to disgrace me,
                      And brand my noble actions with his lust,
                      (That never cur'd dishonour of my Sister,
                      Base stain of Whore; and which is worse,
                      The joy to make it still so) like my self;
                      Thus have I flung him off with my allegiance,
                      And stand here mine own justice to revenge
                      What I have suffered in him; and this old man
                      Wrong'd almost to lunacy.

    Cal. Who I? you'd draw me in: I have had no wrong,
                      I do disclaim ye all.

    Mel. The short is this;
                      'Tis no ambition to lift up my self,
                      Urgeth me thus; I do desire again
                      To be a subject, so I may be freed;
                      If not, I know my strength, and will unbuild
                      This goodly Town; be speedy, and be wise, in a reply.

    Strat. Be sudden Sir to tie
                      All again; what's done is past recal,
                      And past you to revenge; and there are thousands
                      That wait for such a troubled hour as this;
                      Throw him the blank.

    Lis. Melantius, write in that thy choice,
                      My Seal is at it.

    Mel. It was our honour drew us to this act,
                      Not gain; and we will only work our pardon.

    Cal. Put my name in too.

    Diph. You disclaim'd us but now, Calianax.

    Cal. That's all one;
                      I'le not be hanged hereafter by a trick;
                      I'le have it in.

    Mel. You shall, you shall;
                      Come to the back gate, and we'l call you King,
                      And give you up the Fort.

    Lis. Away, away.

                         [Exeunt Omnes.

      Enter Aspatia in mans apparel.

    Asp. This is my fatal hour; heaven may forgive
                     My rash attempt, that causelesly hath laid
                     Griefs on me that will never let me rest:
                     And put a Womans heart into my brest;
                     It is more honour for you that I die;
                     For she that can endure the misery
                     That I have on me, and be patient too,
                     May live, and laugh at all that you can do.
                     God save you Sir.
                         [Enter Servant.

    Ser. And you Sir; what's your business?

    Asp. With you Sir now, to do me the Office
                      To help me to you[r] Lord.

    Ser. What, would you serve him?

    Asp. I'le do him any service; but to haste,
                      For my affairs are earnest, I desire to speak with
                      him.

    Ser. Sir, because you are in such haste, I would be loth
                      delay you any longer: you cannot.

    Asp. It shall become you tho' to tell your Lord.

    Ser. Sir, he will speak with no body.

    Asp. This is most strange: art thou gold proof? there's
                      for thee; help me to him.

    Ser. Pray be not angry Sir, I'le do my best.

                         [Exit.

    Asp. How stubbornly this fellow answer'd me!
                     There is a vile dishonest trick in man,
                     More than in women: all the men I meet
                     Appear thus to me, are harsh and rude,
                     And have a subtilty in every thing,
                     Which love could never know; but we fond women
                     Harbor the easiest and smoothest thoughts,
                     And think all shall go so; it is unjust
                     That men and women should be matcht together.

      Enter Amintor and his man.

    Amint. Where is he!

    Ser. There my Lord.

    Amint. What would you Sir?

    Asp. Please it your Lordship to command your man
                      Out of the room; shall deliver things
                      Worthy your hearing.

    Amint. Leave us.

    Asp. O that that shape should bury falshood in it.

                         [Aside.

    Amint. Now your will Sir.

    Asp. When you know me, my Lord, you needs must guess
                      My business! and I am not hard to know;
                      For till the change of War mark'd this smooth face
                      With these few blemishes people would call me
                      My Sisters Picture, and her mine; in short,
                      I am the brother to the wrong'd Aspatia.

    Amint. The wrong'd Aspatia! would thou wert so too
                      Unto the wrong'd Amintor; let me kiss
                      That hand of thine in honour that I bear
                      Unto the wrong'd Aspatia: here I stand
                      That did it; would he could not; gentle youth
                      Leave me, for there is something in thy looks
                      That calls my sins in a most hideous form
                      Into my mind; and I have grief enough
                      Without thy help.

    Asp. I would I could with credit:
                      Since I was twelve years old I had not seen
                      My Sister till this hour; I now arriv'd;
                      She sent for me to see her Marriage,
                      A woful one: but they that are above,
                      Have ends in every thing; she us'd few words,
                      But yet enough to make me understand
                      The baseness of the injury you did her.
                      That little training I have had is War;
                       I may behave my self rudely in Peace;
                       I would not though; I shall not need to tell you
                       I am but young; and you would be loth to lose
                      Honour that is not easily gain'd again.
                      Fairly I mean to deal; the age is strict
                      For single combats, and we shall be stopt
                      If it be publish't: if you like your sword,
                      Use it; if mine appear a better to you,
                      Change; for the ground is this, and this the time
                      To end our difference.

    Amint. Charitable youth,
                      If thou be'st such, think not I will maintain
                      So strange a wrong; and for thy Sisters sake,
                      Know that I could not think that desperate thing
                      I durst not do; yet to enjoy this world
                      I would not see her; for beholding thee,
                      I am I know not what; if I have ought
                      That may content thee, take it and be gone;
                      For death is not so terrible as thou;
                      Thine eyes shoot guilt into me.

    Asp. Thus she swore
                      Thou would'st behave thy self, and give me words
                      That would fetch tears into mine eyes, and so
                      Thou dost indeed; but yet she bade me watch,
                      Lest I were cousen'd, and be sure to fight ere I
                      return'd.

    Amint. That must not be with me;
                      For her I'le die directly, but against her will never
                      hazard it.

    Asp. You must be urg'd; I do not deal uncivilly with those that
                      Dare to fight; but such a one as you
                      Must be us'd thus.

                         [She strikes him.

    Amint. Prethee youth take heed;
                      Thy Sister is a thing to me so much
                      Above mine honour, that I can endu[r]e
                      All this; good gods—a blow I can endure;
                      But stay not, lest thou draw a timely death upon thy
                      self.

    Asp. Thou art some prating fellow,
                      One that hath studyed out a trick to talk
                      And move soft-hearted people; to be kickt,

                         [She kicks him.

                      Thus to be kickt—why should he be so slow
                         [Aside.
                      In giving me my death?

    Amint. A man can bear
                      No more and keep his flesh; forgive me then;
                       I would endure yet if I could; now shew
                      The spirit thou pretendest, and understand
                      Thou hast no honour to live:

                         [They fight.

                      What dost thou mean? thou canst not fight:
                      The blows thou mak'st at me are quite besides;
                      And those I offer at thee, thou spread'st thine arms,
                      And tak'st upon thy breast, Alas! defenceless.

    Asp. I have got enough,
                     And my desire; there's no place so fit for me to die
                     as here.

      Enter Evadne.

    Evad. Amintor; I am loaden with events
                     That flie to make thee happy; I have joyes

                         [Her hands bloody with a knife.

                     That in a moment can call back thy wrongs,
                     And settle thee in thy free state again;
                     It is Evadne still that follows thee, but not her
                     mischiefs.

    Amint. Thou canst not fool me to believe agen;
                     But thou hast looks and things so full of news that
                     I am staid.

    Evad. Noble Amintor, put off thy amaze;
                      Let thine eyes loose, and speak, am I not fair?
                      Looks not Evadne beauteous with these rites now?
                      Were those hours half so lovely in thine eyes,
                      When our hands met before the holy man?
                      I was too foul within to look fair then;
                      Since I knew ill, I was not free till now.

    Amint. There is presage of some important thing
                      About thee, which it seems thy tongue hath lost:
                      Thy hands are bloody, and thou hast a knife.

    Evad. In this consists thy happiness and mine;
                     Joy to Amintor, for the King is dead.

    Amint. Those have most power to hurt us that we love,
                      We lay our sleeping lives within their arms.
                      Why, thou hast rais'd up mischief to this height,
                      And found out one to out-name thy other faults;
                      Thou hast no intermission of thy sins,
                      But all thy life is a continual ill;
                      Black is thy colour now, disease thy nature.
                      Joy to Amintor! thou hast toucht a life,
                      The very name of which had power to chain
                      Up all my rage, and calm my wildest wrongs.

    Evad. 'Tis done; and since I could not find a way
                      To meet thy love so clear, as through his life,
                      I cannot now repent it.

    Amint. Could'st thou procure the Gods to speak to me,
                      To bid me love this woman, and forgive,
                      I think I should fall out with them; behold
                      Here lies a youth whose wounds bleed in my brest,
                      Sent by his violent Fate to fetch his death
                      From my slow hand: and to augment my woe,
                      You now are present stain'd with a Kings blood
                      Violently shed: this keeps night here,
                      And throws an unknown wilderness about me.

    Asp. Oh, oh, oh!

    Amint. No more, pursue me not.

    Evad. Forgive me then, and take me to thy bed.
                     We may not part.

    Amint. Forbear, be wise, and let my rage go this way.

    Evad. 'Tis you that I would stay, not it.

    Amint. Take heed, it will return with me.

    Evad. If it must be, I shall not fear to meet it; take me home.

    Amint. Thou monster of cruelty, forbear.

    Evad. For heavens sake look more calm;
                      Thine eyes are sharper than thou canst make thy sword.

    Amint. Away, away, thy knees are more to me than violence.
                      I am worse than sick to see knees follow me
                      For that I must not grant; for heavens sake stand.

    Evad. Receive me then._Amint. I dare not stay thy language;
                      In midst of all my anger and my grief,
                      Thou dost awake something that troubles me,
                      And sayes I lov'd thee once; I dare not stay;
                      There is no end of womens reasoning.

                         [Leaves her.

    Evad. Amintor, thou shalt love me once again;
                      Go, I am calm; farewell; and peace for ever.
                      Evadne whom thou hat'st will die for thee.

                         [Kills her self.

    Amint. I have a little humane nature yet
                      That's left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand.
                         [Returns.

    Evad. Thy hand was welcome, but came too late;
                      Oh I am lost! the heavy sleep makes haste.

                         [She dies.

    Asp. Oh, oh, oh!

    Amint. This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feel
                      A stark affrighted motion in my blood;
                      My soul grows weary of her house, and I
                      All over am a trouble to my self;
                      There is some hidden power in these dead things
                      That calls my flesh into'em; I am cold;
                      Be resolute, and bear'em company:
                      There's something yet which I am loth to leave.
                      There's man enough in me to meet the fears
                      That death can bring, and yet would it were done;
                      I can find nothing in the whole discourse
                      Of death, I durst not meet the boldest way;
                      Yet still betwixt the reason and the act,
                      The wrong I to Aspatia did stands up,
                      I have not such a fault to answer,
                      Though she may justly arm with scorn
                      And hate of me, my soul will part less troubled,
                      When I have paid to her in tears my sorrow:
                      I will not leave this act unsatisfied,
                      If all that's left in me can answer it.

    Asp. Was it a dream? there stands Amintor still:
                      Or I dream still.

    Amint. How dost thou? speak, receive my love, and help:
                      Thy blood climbs up to his old place again:
                      There's hope of thy recovery.

    Asp. Did you not name Aspatia?

    Amint. I did.

    Asp. And talkt of tears and sorrow unto her?

    Amint. 'Tis true, and till these happy signs in thee
                      Did stay my course, 'twas thither I was going.

    Asp. Th'art there already, and these wounds are hers:
                      Those threats I brought with me, sought not revenge,
                      But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand,
                       I am Aspatia yet.

    Amint. Dare my soul ever look abroad agen?

    Asp. I shall live Amintor; I am well:
                      A kind of healthful joy wanders within me.

    Amint. The world wants lines to excuse thy loss:
                      Come let me bear thee to some place of help.

    Asp. Amintor thou must stay, I must rest here,
                     My strength begins to disobey my will.
                     How dost thou my best soul? I would fain live,
                     Now if I could: would'st thou have loved me then?

    Amint. Alas! all that I am's not worth a hair from thee.

    Asp. Give me thy hand, mine hands grope up and down,
                     And cannot find thee; I am wondrous sick:
                     Have I thy hand Amintor? Amint. Thou greatest blessing of the world, thou hast.

    Asp. I do believe thee better than my sense.
                     Oh! I must go, farewell.

    Amint. She swounds: Aspatia help, for Heavens sake water;
                      Such as may chain life for ever to this frame.
                      Aspatia, speak: what no help? yet I fool,
                      I'le chafe her temples, yet there's nothing stirs;
                      Some hidden Power tell her that Amintor calls,
                      And let her answer me: Aspatia, speak.
                      I have heard, if there be life, but bow
                      The body thus, and it will shew it self.
                      Oh she is gone! I will not leave her yet.
                      Since out of justice we must challenge nothing;
                      I'le call it mercy if you'l pity me,
                      You heavenly powers, and lend for some few years,
                      The blessed soul to this fair seat agen.
                      No comfort comes, the gods deny me too.
                       I'le bow the body once agen: Aspatia!
                      The soul is fled for ever, and I wrong
                      My self, so long to lose her company.
                      Must I talk now? Here's to be with thee love.

                         [Kills himself.

         Enter Servant.

    Ser. This is a great grace to my Lord, to have the new
                      King come to him; I must tell him, he is entring.
                      O Heaven help, help;

        Enter Lysip. Melant. Cal. Cleon, Diph. Strato.

    Lys. Where's Amintor?

    Strat. O there, there.

    Lys. How strange is this!

    Cal. What should we do here?

    Mel. These deaths are such acquainted things with me,
                     That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand
                     Stiff here for ever; eyes, call up your tears;
                     This is Amintor: heart he was my friend;
                     Melt, now it flows; Amintor, give a word
                     To call me to thee.

    Amint. Oh!

    Mel. Melantius calls his friend Amintor; Oh thy arms
                      Are kinder to me than thy tongue;
                      Speak, speak.

    Amint. What?

    Mel. That little word was worth all the sounds
                      That ever I shall hear agen.

    Diph. O brother! here lies your Sister slain;
                      You lose your self in sorrow there.

    Mel. Why Diphilus, it is
                      A thing to laugh at in respect of this;
                      Here was my Sister, Father, Brother, Son;
                      All that I had; speak once again;
                      What youth lies slain there by thee?

    Amint. 'Tis Aspatia.
                     My senses fade, let me give up my soul
                      Into thy bosom.

    Cal. What's that? what's that? Aspatia!

    Mel. I never did repent the greatness of my heart till now;
                      It will not burst at need.

    Cal. My daughter dead here too! and you have all fine new
                      tricks to grieve; but I ne're knew any but direct
                      crying.

    Mel. I am a pratler, but no more.

    Diph. Hold Brother.

    Lysip. Stop him.

    Diph. Fie; how unmanly was this offer in you!
                     Does this become our strain?

    Cal. I know not what the mat[t]er is, but I am
                     Grown very kind, and am friends with you;
                     You have given me that among you will kill me
                     Quickly; but I'le go home, and live as long as I can.

    Mel. His spirit is but poor that can be kept
                      From death for want of weapons.
                      Is not my hand a weapon good enough
                      To stop my breath? or if you tie down those,
                      I vow Amintor I will never eat,
                      Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that
                      That may preserve life; this I swear to keep.

    Lysip. Look to him tho', and bear those bodies in.
                      May this a fair example be to me,
                      To rule with temper: for on lustful Kings
                      Unlookt for sudden deaths from heaven are sent!
                      But curst is he that is their instrument.

    %THE MAIDS TRAGEDY%.

    The editions prior to the Folio of 1679 are as follows:

    (%A%) The Maides Tragedy. | As it hath beene | divers times Acted at the Blacke-friers by | the Kings Majesties Servants. | London | Printed for Francis Constable and are to be sold | at the white Lyon over against the great North | doore of Pauls Church. 1619.

    (%B%) The Maids Tragedie. | As it hath beene | divers times Acted at the Black-Friers by | the Kings Majesties Servants. | Newly perused, augmented, and inlarged, This second Impression. | London, | Printed for Francis Constable, and are | to be sold at the White Lion in | Pauls Church-yard. 1622.

    (%C%) The Maids Tragedie | As it hath beene | divers times Acted at the Black-Friers by | the Kings Majesties Servants. | Written by Francis Beaumont, and John Fletcher Gentlemen. | The third Impression, Revised and Refined. | London, | Printed by A.M. for Richard Hawkins, and are to bee | sold at his Shop in Chancery-Lane neere | Serjeants-Inne. 1630.

    (%D%) The Maides Tragedie: | as it hath beene | divers times Acted at the Black-Friers by | the Kings Majesties Servants. | Written by Francis Beaumont, and John Fletcher | Gentlemen. | The fourth Impression, Revised and Refined. | Printed by E.G. for Henry Shepherd, and are to be sold at the | signe of the Bible in Chancery lane. 1638.

    (%E%) The Maids Tragedie. | As it hath beene | Divers times Acted at the Black-| Friers, by the Kings | Majesties Servants. | Written by Francis Beaumont, and | John Fletcher Gentlemen. | The fifth Impression, Revised and Refined. | London Printed by E.P. for William Leake, and are to be sold at his | shop in Chancery-lane, neare the Rowles. 1641.

    (%F%) The | Maids Tragedy, | as it hath been divers times Acted at the Black-| Friers, by the Kings Majesties Servants: | written by Francis Beaumont and | John Fletcher, Gentlemen. | The sixth Impression, Revised and Corrected exactly by the Original. | London Printed for William Leake, at the Crown in Fleet-street, be | tween the two Temple Gates. 1650.

    (%G%) The Maids Tragedy, | as it hath been divers times | Acted | at the Black-Friers, | by the | Kings Majesties Servants. | Written by Francis Beaumont, | and John Fletcher, Gentlemen. | The sixth Impression, Revised and Corrected exactly | by the Original. | London, | Printed in the Year 1661.

    In the following notes each of these quartos is referred to by the capital letter prefixed to it in the above list. A—F contain a wood-cut representing Amintor stabbing Aspatia.

    p. I, l. 3. A—G] Speakers. l. 6. A and B omit] a Noble
         Gentleman. C after the list of Speakers adds the following verses, repeated
         with variations of spelling in D—G]

    The Stationers Censure.

      Good Wine requires no Bush, they say,
      And I, No Prologue such a Play:
      The Makers therefore did forbeare
      To have that Grace prefixed here.
      But cease here (Censure) least the Buyer
      Hold thee in this a vaine Supplyer.
      My office is to set it forth
      When Fame applauds it's reall worth.

    l.26. A possibly correctly gives this speech to Lysippus. l.27. A]
         You are brother. l. 30. B, C and D omit] thou. ll. 31 and
         32. A and B] masks. l. 33. A omits] their King. l. 34. A] groome. l. 38. A omits]
         to Rhodes. l. 39. A] blowes abroad bringst us our peace at home.

    p. 2, l. 1. A omits] too. l. 2. A] welcome. A—E] above his or. l. 3. A] world. l. 16. A] straight. l. 18. A] most true. l. 19. A] solemnities. l. 22. A] Yes, and have given cause to those, that here. l. 29. A omits] with armes. l. 33. A omits] my friend. l. 34. A omits] and temperate.

    p. 3, l. 3. A] weighes. l. 5. A] Enter Aspatia passing with attendance. ll. 14 and 15. Printed as one line in G and the Folio. The Exit
         Aspatia
    has been printed in the text at the end of Aspatia's
         speech, as in A—F.

    l. 16. A] You are mistaken sir, she is not married. A full-stop has been
         substituted for a comma at the end of the line here, and elsewhere
         in similar cases. l. 21. G omits] he. l. 25. A] has. l. 27. B] about. l. 28. G omits] the fair. l. 37. A] 'a should not thinke. l. 38. A] Could I but call it backe. l. 39. A] such base revenges. l. 40. A omits] holds he still his greatness with the King.

    p. 4, l. 1. A] O t'were pittie for this Lady sir. l. 2. A] sits. l. 3. A] in unfrequented woods. l. 4. A] where when. l. 5. A] flowers, Then she will sit, and sigh, and tell. l. 8. A] and strow them over her like a corse. l. 12. A] And swound, and sing againe. l. 13. A] your young. l. 14. A] fils. l. 27. G omits] much. l. 36. A, B and C] thine innocence. l. 39. A, B and C] I am poore in words. l. 40. A] could do no more but weep. G] could no more weep.

    p. 5, l. 2. A—G] fetcht. l. 4. A and B] that. l. 7. A] these. l. 9. A] too cruell. B] too fickle. l. 14. A and B] about. l. 18. A omits this line, and gives the following speech to Amintor. l. 20. A adds ] Exeunt Lysippus, Cleon, Strato, Diphilus. l. 25. A] In sports, il'e. l. 26. A and B] But I have. l. 30. A] challenge gentlemen. A and B omit] in't. l. 32. A] and Diagoras. l. 34. A] will be angry with me.

    p. 6, l. 1. A] One must sweat out his heart with. B—G] One may swear his
         heart out. l. 3. A and B] I shall never. l. 4. A omits] Pray stay. l. 5. A] you coxcomely asse, ile be. l. 6. A and B] judge. l. 10. A] through in my office. l. 11. A—D] they ha. l. 12. A] But now. l. 15. A] hark, hark, whose there, codes, codes. l. 18. A] Who is't. l. 20. A omits] with you. l. 25. A] there is no room. l. 28. A adds] Exit Melantius Lady other dore. l. 31. A] let the dores shut agen, no; do your heads itch. [The reader
         will note that here, and elsewhere in the
         text, 'I' frequently = 'Ay.'] l. 32. A omits] for you. l. 33. A] giving way. l. 35. A] a dozen heads in the twinckling. l. 37. A—G] I pray you can you. l. 40. A omits] to Melantius.

    p. 7, l. 2. A—G] a must. l. 3. A adds] Enter Melantius. l. 7. A and B] mine. l. 12. A omits] but. l. 13. A omits] so near the presence of the King. l. 18. G] a woman. l. 20. A] so womanish. l. 23. A omits] Why. l. 24. A] quite forget. l. 28. A] Bate me the King, and be of flesh and blood. l. 29. A—G] A lies. l. 32. D and E] pluckt. l. 35. A and B] braved. C—G] bran'd. l. 37. A] the blood. l. 40. A] and able.

    p. 8, l. 3. A] talke your pleasure. l. 4. A] What vilde wrong. l. 6. A] hands. l. 21. A] thy love. l. 22. A] with me. l. 24. A—D] mine hand. l. 33. A omits] can be unto me. l. 34. A omits] The. l. 36. A] Our raigne is now, for in the quenching sea.

    p. 9, l. 4. A—D] hornes quite through.
             E] horne quite through. l. 7. A] persons that have many longing eies. l. 9. A] can I not finde. l. 10. A] am I so blinde. l. 12. F and G] break. l. 18. A and B] reines. l. 19. A] upon those, that appeare. l. 23. B] keepe our places. l. 26. G omits] but. ll. 28—37. These lines do not appear in A. l. 38. A] that power. l. 39. A] to fill this happy houre. l. 40. A] and let.

    p. 10, l. 1. A omits] then call. l. 3. A] flowrie banck. l. 4. A] Latmus brow. l. 5. A] thy day. B] this day. l. 6. A] darke power. l. 7. A] and winde. l. 9. A] Turnes. l. 11. A] nobler. l. 17. A] hath force me hither. l. 24. A and B] goe from. l. 25. A] his subjects. l. 26. A and B] intentions. l. 31. A] Bid them draw neere to have thy watrie race. l. 32. A] Led on in couples, we are pleas'd to grace. l. 34. A] vessels. l. 37. A] See the winde.
           B] Oh, the wind.

    p. 11, l. 5. A omits] too. l. 7. A omits] great. l. 8. G] commands. l. 15. A] I will not be long thence, goe hence againe. l. 16. A] And bid the other call out of the Maine. l. 19. A—D] The beaten.
              E] beating. l. 27. Folio misprints] mid-might. l. 29. A and B] and thee. l. 34. A and G] rights.

    p. 12, l. 6. A] old night. l. 8. C] cause thee. l. 9. A] their losses. l. 14. A] loud cryings. l. 17. A] if she call. After this song A adds] Maskers
         daunce, Neptune leads it. ll. 18—34. These lines do not appear in A. l. 37. A—D] The sea goes hie.

    p. 13, l. 1. A] has raised. l. 4. Folio] call. l. 5. A] We thanke you for this houre, | My favour to you all to
        gratulate. l. 7. G] may floods. l. 8. A] and no eb shall dare. l. 10. A] governments. l. 11. A] proud waters should. l. 13. In place of stage-direction A reads] Exeunt Maskers. Descend. l. 21. A] Kingdome. l. 22. A—D] all fall drencht ... forget. l. 23. A] I dare no more. l. 24. A] Once heave thy drowsie head agen and see. l. 26. A] lash. l. 27. A—E] and yon.
              A] sun flaring stream.
           B—E] same flashing streame. l. 30. A] Cinth. Adew. A omits] Finis Mask. l. 31. A] light their. l. 34. Folio misprints ] may case. l. 36. A and B] Kingdomes.

    p. 14, l. 5. A omits] very. After l. 7 A adds] Evad. Howes that? Dul. That I might goe to bed with him
         with credit that you doe. l. 18. A] Madame. l. 19. In A these four words are given to '1. Lad.' l. 21. A] Tis best. l. 25. A omits ] high. l. 28. A, B and C] livelier. l. 31. A] We all will take it I hope that are here. l. 34. A—E omit] to. l. 35. A] Wilt lie in my place.

    p. 15, l. 3. A] Doe I prethee. l. 13. G] timely. l. 18. A] My right, l. 29. A—D] lost none. l. 31. A and B] I should. l. 32. A] Loe if you have not. l. 35. A] unto. l. 36. A] and I. l. 38. A] must be.

    p. 16, ll. 1—20. These lines do not appear in A. l. 10. C] Fie out. l. 23. A] may not discontent. l. 26. A and B] And teach you. l. 30. G] should look.

    p. 17, l. 6. A] Heele finde. l. 7. A omits] yet. l. 19. A and B omit] my. l. 22. A gives this line to 'I. Lad.' l. 25. A] A griefe. l. 26. A] mine eyes raine. l. 28. A] why did I. l. 32. A] breake. l. 33. A] the King inforst me. l. 35. A] is she. l. 39. A] shall. p. 18, l. 1. A] rights. l. 30. A] look will like. l. 39. A] and by thy selfe sweete love. l. 40. A] revenge it.

    p. 19, l. 2. A] to me. ll. 4, 5. A] The world can yeeld, are light as aire. l. 8. A] the sun of thy lips. l. 9. A, B and C] wonnot. l. 10. A omits] do. l. 12. A and B] wrongst. l. 16. A omits] then. l. 17. A] should'st. l. 18. A] cannot. l. 26. A] Her natural temper. l. 29. A] Neither of these, what thinke you I am mad. l. 31. A] Is this the Truth, wil you not lie with me to night. l. 32. A omits ] To night.
           A] You talke as if you thought I would hereafter. l. 37. A] your bed. A, B and C omit] for. l. 40. A] would.

    p. 20, l. 4. A] the kisses of a bride. l. 13. A] Shall know this, not an altar then will smoake. l. 20. A] She cannot jest. l. 23. A] the paine of death. l. 37. A] Instant me with it. l. 40. G] the Night.

    p. 21, l. 2. A] their voyce. l. 7. A] as that. l. 12. G] man. l. 15. A and B omit] out. l. 17. A—D] woman. l. 18. A and B] doe dwell.

    p. 22, l. 4. A omits] in practice. l. 22. A] It is not. l. 25. A] sacred word. l. 32. A and B] hath put. l. 37. A and G omit ] a. l. 38. A omits] Evad.

    p. 23, l. 1. A] shall love. l. 4. A] in thy breast. l. 8. A] could. l. 23. A, B and C] know. l. 26. A] e'ne to his heart. l. 27. A] I have left. l. 36. A] I did. l. 39. A] longing.

    p. 24, l. 2. A omits] Amint. l. 6. A omits] sad. l. 7. A] Good good. l. 14. A omits this line. l. 15. A] Did you ere. ll. 16 and 17. A omits these lines. l. 18. A] a mettled temper. l. 21. A] Nere I. ll. 23—31. These lines from 'and be sure' to the end of l. 31 are
         omitted in A. l. 24. B] gives life. l. 34. A] faind sorrow. l. 35. A] Oenes. B, C and E] Aenones. l. 37. A] expressing furie.

    p. 25, l. 1. A omits] and. l. 2. A and B] Just as thine does.
          C] Just as thine eyes does. l. 12. A] looke black. l. 19. A] None of all. l. 20. A] exprest well. l. 23. A repeats this line. l. 25. A] Doe that feare bravely wench. l. 27. A full-stop at end of line has been taken away. l. 30. A] there. l. 34. A] poore Ladies. l. 37. For this line A reads] Suppose I stand upon Sea, breach now. l. 39. A] Wilde as the place she was in, let all about me. l. 40. A] Be teares of my story, doe my face.

    p. 26, l. 2. A] thus make me looke good girle. l. 3. A] sorrowes mount. l. 6. A] see, see wenches. l. 11. A and B] a dumbe silence. l. 18. A] You'l lie downe shortly, in and whine there. l. 19. A] rustie. B, C and
           D] reasty. A and B] want heates. C, D and E] heares. l. 20. A] We shall have some of the Court boyes heat you shortly. ll. 21 and 22. A] Good my Lord be not angry, we doe nothing | But what
         my Ladies pleasure is, we are thus in griefe. l. 25. A] A slie dissembling slave. l. 28. A omits] what, made an Ass. l. 29. A] must be.

    p. 27, l. 4. A] Our brides. l. 9. A] None, its ods. l. 24. A] I faith I did not. l. 26. A] We have ventured. l. 27. A—G] A shall command. After 'Rhodes' A—D add] Shall
         we be merry. l. 28. A prints 'Aside' at the end of l. 31, B—E at the end of l. 29. l. 34. A] doth. l. 35. A] the headsman. l. 36. A omits] again.

    p. 28, l. 1. A] does hee not mocke mee. l. 2. A omits] use to. l. 4. A] that wilde breach. C—G and Folio] what wild breath. l. 5. A—G] was so rude. A omits] Aside. l. 20. A] this sudden. l. 23. A omits] But.

    l. 24. A] Say, stay my friend. l. 34. A] shoot. l. 35. A—G] A carries. l. 37. A omits] But.

    p. 29, l. 1. A—D] This is complement.
          E] Beleeve me, this complement too cunning for me. l. 4. G] that she may. l. 18. A omits] I done. l. 25. A—D] Nor I.
           A omits] Aside. l. 38. A] heighned.

    p. 30, l. 7. A] Well? can you be other. l. 9. A omits] Amintor. l. 12. A omits] too. l. 25. A, B and C] indeed. l. 30. A] how then shewes the sport to you.

    p. 31, l. 7. A—G] do hope. l. 13. A adds] Aside. ll. 15 and 16. A omits] with you. l. 17. A—G] A will not tell. ll. 18 and 19. For these lines A reads] For it is apt to thrust
         this arme of mine to acts unlawfull. l. 21. A] have jealous pangs. l. 23. A] When she dares. l. 27. A omits] will and. l. 35. A and B] great, that me thought.
           A and B] they did misbecome.

    p. 32, l. 5. A—G] my. l. 6. G] Touch. ll. 14 and 15. A—G read 'A' for 'He.' l. 17. A—D] not onely shun. l. 20. A—D] I am.
           E] I no man. l. 21. A omits] me. l. 24. A—G] desire. l. 32. A] This is dissembling. ll. 33—36. A omits these lines. l. 34. B—D] thee with, look. l. 39. A] shouldst.

    p. 33, l. 5. A] The King and I. l. 6. A and B] Oh God. l. 7. G] Who shall. l. 19. A] lies. ll. 24 and 25. In place of these lines A reads] Unless I show
         how nobly I have freed my selfe. l. 26. G] thou cannot fear.

    p. 34, l. 4. A] treacherous sword. l.7. A] there are.
         A—F] thousands.
         A omits] fools. l. 8. A] the Land. l. 13. A] my fault. l. 25. A—G] hold, hold. l. 28. A] Seconded like that. l. 30. A] Plagues here. l. 31. A omits] not. l. 32. A—D] And so I leave you. l. 33. A, B and C] You must needs be prating.

    P. 35 l. 5. A] her part. l. 6. A omits] treacherous slave. l. 9. A] office. l. 12. A omits] Leave. l. 22. A—D] where you. l. 25. A—D] you'l give ground. l. 28. A] hast strength. l. 36. A] I had mongst cowards, but durst never fight. l. 39. A—D] hold him. l. 40. A] askt.

    p. 36, l. 2. A omits] go home, and. l. 9. A] Mans eyes.
          A omits] so. l. 27. A] strives. l. 29. A] yow weare. l. 31. A] your tongue.

    p. 37, l. 1. A] Immutable colour. l. 11. A] and tis not like. l. 18. G omits] an. l. 21. A—G] a lied. l. 27. A] See how you plead. l. 29. A, B and C] what I ha done. l. 30. A] with miseries.

    p. 38, l. 3. A and B] mine old armour. l. 9. A—E] scape. l. 18. A—D] How's this. l. 27. A] tane. l. 29. A] and stick. ll. 37 and 38. A and B] goe as high As troubled waters.

    p. 39, l. 6. A] to be knowne. l. 7. A] be blessed. l. 12. A] fix a farewell. l. 25. A] didst make. l. 37. A—G] foule act on my selfe.

    p. 40, l. 1. A] ease of. l. 10. A and B] my horrid point. l. 20. A] thy heart. l. 24. A—E] all that this world. l. 27. A] this bosome. l. 32. A] I call it fro[m] thee. l. 33. A omits] and shame me To posterity. l. 39. A omits] be.

    p. 41, l. 19. A] speake it. l. 25. A] but have a care. l. 28. A] your house. l. 32. A omits] and no more.

    p. 42, l. 4. A and B] As well as I could, and sent him. l. 20. A omits] to mine. p. 43, l. 9. G] See what starrs you make.
          A] your idle hatred.
          A omits] to my love and freedom to you. l. 11. A] I am come. l. 17. A—E omit] that. l. 26. A omits] or. l. 27. A] The last is spoke, refuse my offerd love.

    p. 44, l. 11. A—E] commendations. l. 13. A] your dores. l. 20. A—E] commendations. l. 21. A—E] has made. l. 23. A omits] it after has. l. 30. A and B] thy repentance. l. 36. A and B] I understand ye not.

    p. 45, l. 1. G] ye know. l. 5. D] wins within her. l. 7. A and B] theres your way. l. 11. After this line A—G add] Rather to grapple with the plague, or stand. l. 18. A] theile lie. l. 27. A] Though he lie lockt up in thy blood, come tell me. l. 34. A—E omit ] a. l. 37. A] thy father.

    p. 46, l. 7. A] his foe. l. 13. The conclusion of this speech from 'thou hast no hope' is
         omitted in A. l. 15. B] snatch meat. l. 17. B—G] has undone. l. 23. F omits this line. l. 24. A—E] this scandall. l. 27. C—G] raise much out. l. 32. G] thou will deserve it.

    p. 47, l. 19. A] Is there no more here. l. 21. A omits] O hear me gently; it was. l. 22. A omits] no more. ll. 27 and 28. A] Evad. Too long, too late I finde it.
         Mel. Can you be very sorry. l. 30. A] Woman thou wilt not to thy trade againe. l. 32. A, B and G] thou hadst. l. 34. A] Has sunk thy faire soule, I command thee curse him.

    p. 48, l. 10. A] you had no feare.
           B and C] you knew no feare. l. 13. A—E] thoudst. l. 37. A and B] Gods where have I beene.

    p. 49, l. 13. A] This is a new way to beget more sorrows. l. 17. A—E] naturall wildnesse. l. 22. A and B] that; no sacrifice.
           C and D] thats; no sacrifice. l. 35. A—E] that dull calamity.

    p. 50, l. 8. A] Shall cut. l. 17. Folio misprints whither.
           F and G] whether. l. 28. A] get beleife. l. 38. G] I will.

    p. 51, l. 3. A omits] now. l. 6. G] been thus excellently good. l. 25. A, B and C] she have. l. 34. A—D] scape.

    p. 52, l. 7. A] I besworne. l. 10. A—D omit] of.
           A—G] a trusted. l. 35. C—G and Folio misprint] Lipsi.
           A omits] Diag.

    p. 53, l. 1. F] raise laughter. l. 7. A] Mel. l. 12. G] to trust. l. 23. A—D] Ye shall have it soundly I warrant you. l. 31. A—F] scape.

    p. 54, l. 16. A—G] A must. l. 21. A—D] can easily. l. 22. A] faults.

    p. 55, l. 4. A] Facers, and talkers to defame the world. l. 18. A] Who I, thou shamelesse Fellow that hast spoke to me
         of it thy Selfe. l. 25. E, F and G] Come from you. l. 29. F gives this speech to Calianax and the next two to Melantius. l. 30. A, B and C] a should. l. 31. A, B and C] in's life.

    p. 56, ll. 7 and 8. A omits these lines. l. 9. A—G] you your selfe. l. 12. A—E] will as great. l. 16. A omits] not. l. 21. G omits] better. l. 22. A omits] Aside. l. 24. G] belive it. l. 27. A—D] Whilst he is hot, for if hee coole agen.
           E] Whilst he hot, for he coole agen. l. 33. A and B] A pittie. l. 34. A and B] Mel. Marke his disordered words, and at the Maske. l. 38. A and B omit] too.

    p. 57, l. 8. F] When I has. l. 15. A, B and C] Why should. l. 16. D and E] him, alas in his sword. l. 21. A] Too well.
           G] 'Tis we. l. 28. A omits] and believe. ll. 37 and 38. A] Dost not thou looke for some great
         punishment for this? I feele | My selfe beginne to forget
         all my hate. l. 40. A] so extremely.

    p. 58, l. 1. A] I shall meet. l. 2. A] Unkindnesse. l. 4. A] no wrong. l. 9. A and B] this I call hurt. l. 19. A] his disgrace. l. 26. A] Melantius, thou shall have the fort. l. 40. A—G add at the end of the line] Diph.

    p. 59, l. 19. A—D omit] in. l. 34. G] refused. l. 38. A and B] vild.

    p. 60, l. 11. G omits] up. l. 20. A—E] Theres not. l. 21. A—E] in 't. l. 23. Folio] Why? The sign has been changed to a comma
         here and elsewhere in similar cases. l. 25. A and B add ] Exeunt. l. 36. A] and then me thinkes.

    p. 61, l. 2. A and B add] Exit. l. 5. A] lost virtue. l. 7. F, G and Folio] no man dare. l. 9. A] tis a madnesse. l. 10. A] that desperate mans.
           B and C] fooles. l. 12. A] repent 'em. l. 15. A—G] a sleepes.
           A] a sleepes, oh God. l. 17. A] That has so farre transgrest you. l. 18. G omits] And. l. 19. A] Confirmes me that I merit. l. 21. A] To rake him. l. 22. A] Shall seaze him. l. 23. G] punishment. l. 24. A and B] Ile shape. l. 26. A] I strike. l. 30. In place of this line A reads] As I beleeve I shall not, I
         shall fit him. l. 31. A—G] a sleepes.

    p. 62, l. 3. A] may looke. l. 5. F] Say Sir, stay. l. 9. A] Here thou shalt.
          B and C] thou shalt.
          D] you shalt. l. 18. A] How Evadne? l. 33. Folio] thou.

    p. 63, l. 10. A—E] reach. l. 11. A—E] overcharge. l. 15. D] is heaven. l. 16. F] Here Evadne. l. 21. A. omits] Stabs him. l. 29. A adds] Stabs him. l. 31. A—E add at end of line] King.
          In F and G the word 'king' is printed by mistake and
         wrongly spaced at the end of the following line.

    p. 64, l. 10. A omits this line. l. 12. A. omits one] Treason. l. 35. A—E] innocence.

    p. 65, l. 1. F omits] and. l. 5. A and B] Or to create. l. 17. Folio] beter. l. 21. A] certaine. l. 29. A—E] We could a wisht. l. 31. A—G] thee. l. 35. A] pray to heaven. l. 37. E] then of honor. l. 39. In place of this line A reads] I'm sure might have
         preserved.

    p. 66, ll. 1 and 2. A omits these lines. l. 3. A and B] those tears. l. 9. A] And begge.
          B and C] buy. l. 15. A—E] I have. l. 16. A] for revenge. 1. 19. A—G] you wud. l. 24. A—D] free. l. 28. A—E] All up againe. l. 34. A—E] honours. l. 35. A—E] No gaine.
           A—D] pardons. l. 37. A—D] us all but.

    p. 67, l. 2. A] call the King. l. 9. G omits] a. l. 10. A] that I doe. l. 16. A—E] the faire office. l. 17. Folio] you. l. 21. A and B] loth to delay. l. 22. A—D omit] any. l. 24. A] Sir he will speake with no body, but in particular, I
         have in charge about no waightie matters. l. 29. A, B and C] vild. l. 30. G] woman. l. 34, A—E] and the smoothest.

    p. 68, l. 7. G] O that shape. l. 11. A—E] chance of warre.
           D and E] marke. l. 21. A] odious. l. 31. A—E] injuries. l. 35. A—E] and would be loth.

    p. 69, l. 23. A—E] I prethee. l. 25. Folio] endute. l. 27. A—E] timelesse. l. 29. A—G] has. l. 37. A—D] No houre to live.

    p. 70, l. 3. A—D] there is no place. l. 4. B—F print as one stage-direction] Enter Evadne. Her
          hands bloudy with a knife. A omits] Her hands bloody
          with a knife. l. 11. A] staid. l. 26. A—E] his height.

    l. 27. A—E] found one. l. 29. A—D] continued. l. 33. A] tame my wildest wrongs.

    p. 71, ll. 3—5. A omits the words from 'and' to 'shed.' l. 17. A] crueller. l. 20. A and B] for Gods sake. l. 26. A—F] womans. l. 27. A—D] me now againe. l. 32. A—E] but it came. l. 40. A] my selfe unto 'em.
           E] unto.

    p. 72, l. 9. A—E] such another fault. l. 10. A—E] arme her selfe with scorne. l. 24. A and B] Staid my course, it was. l. 25. A and B] Thou art. l. 29. A and B] I shall sure live.
           C and D] I shall surely live. l. 38. A, B and C] thine hand.
           A] mine eyes grow up and downe.

    p. 73, l. 4. A and B] for Gods sake. l. 5. A—E omit] for. l. 7. A, B and C] there nothing stirs. l. 8. A—E omit] that. l. 10. A—D] be any life. l. 15. A and B] lend forth some. l. 24. A and B] Oh God. l. 26. A omits] Cleon.

    p. 74, l. 13. A and B] My last is said, let me give up my soule. l. 16. A omits] my. l. 25. Folio] mater. l. 26. A] with you all now. l. 28. A adds] Exit. l. 31. A—E] hands. A, B and C] sharpe enough. l. 39. A and B] from God.

           A—G add] Finis.

    THE MAIDS TRAGEDY. VERSE AND PROSE VARIATIONS[1].

    p. 1, ll. 29 and 30. A, C, D and E] 2 ll. Poetrie, well.

    p. 2, ll. 7 and 8. A—E] 3 ll. worth, goe, it. l. 14. A—E] 2 ll. Diphilus, ill.

    p. 3, l. 28. A—E] 2 ll. Evadne, sister. l. 29. A—E] 2 ll. them, strange.

    p. 4, ll. 1—5. A and B] 5 ll. walkes, [A sir, see note to p. 4 ante] earth, delight, flowers, tell. l. 29. A—E] speech, love.

    p. 5, l. 20. A—E] 2 ll. gone, Diphilus.

    p. 8, l. 28. A—E] 2 ll. home, maske.

    p. 10, l. 17. A—E] 2 ll. know, ascend.

    p. 13, l. 4. A—E] 2 ll. powre, calme.

    p. 15, ll. 33—35 A] 3 ll. caught, fire, thee. ll. 34 and 35. B—E] 2 ll. fire, thee. ll. 36 and 37. A—E] 2 ll. thing, not.

    p. 19, l. 8. A—E] 2 ll. sin, lips. ll. 9 and 10. A] 1 line. l. 23. A—E] 2 ll. done, meanes.

    p. 20, l. 24. A—E] 2 ll. oath, true. ll. 30 and 31. F and G] 1 line.

    p. 21, ll. 1 and 2. F and G] 1 line. l. 24. A—D] 2 ll. hell, me. ll. 25—27. A and D] 4 ll. bed, locks, weare, armes.

    p. 22, ll. 28 and 29. A—E] 2 ll. us, waite.
                   F and G] 1 line. l. 36. A—E] 2 ll. be, honourable. l. 38. A—E] 2 ll. self, for.

    p. 25, ll. 21 and 22. A] 2 11. so, quick-sand.

    p. 28, ll. 16 and 17. A—E] 2 ll. here, thine.
                   F and G] 1 line.

    [Footnote 1: In these notes the words printed in italics are the last words of the lines indicated in the various texts.]

    p. 30, ll. 10 and 11. A—G] 1 line. ll. 27 and 28. A—G] 1 line.

    p. 31, ll. 15 and 16. A] 2 ll. may, well.

    p. 32, l. 7. A—E] 2 ll. royaltie, stain. l. 8. A—E] 2 ll. me, thee.

    p. 33, ll. 27 and 28. A] 2 ll. weight, rage. ll. 38 and 39. A and B] 2 ll. of, you.

    p. 34, l. 8. A] 2 ll. enough, Land.
          B—E] 2 ll. enough, Island. l. 21. A—E] 2 ll. King, it. ll. 20 and 21. G] 2 ll. for, it.

    p. 35, l. 25. A—-E] 2 ll. feare, draw. ll. 35 and 36. A] 2 ll. tricke, fight.

    p. 36, l. 15. A—E] 2 ll. rarenesse, now. l. 32. A—E] 2 ll. be, it.

    p. 37, l. 8. A—E] indeed, another. l. 28. A—E] 2 ll. say, friend.

    p. 38, l. 6. A—E] 2 ll. innocence, it.

    p. 39, l. 1. A—E] 2 ll. base, lies.

    p. 40, l. 29. A—E] 2 ll. way, backe.

    p. 41, l. 2. A—E] 2 ll. thine, stir. l. 8. A] 2 ll. word, quick. ll. 39 and 40. A] 2 ll. why I, else.
                   B—G] 2 ll. why, else.

    p. 42, ll. 19—21. A] 3 ll. hands, I, thee. l. 21. B—E] 2 ll. I, thee.

    p. 43, l. 11. A—E] 2 ll. sute, you. l. 16. A—E] 2 ll. it, hands.

    p. 44, ll. 15 and 16. A—E] 3 ll. daunce, skins, businesse.

    p. 47, l. 10. A—E] miserie, me. l. 20. A—E] 2 ll. many, ist. l. 39. A—E] in, hereafter.

    p. 48, l. 1. A—E] 2 ll. arme, King.

    p. 51, l. 2. A—E] 2 ll. weepe, water.

    p. 52, l. 5. A—E] 2 ll. house, Court. l. 31. A—E] 2 ll. unlesse, 'em.

    p. 53, l. 27. A—E] 2 ll. dost, pitty. l. 36. A—E] 2 ll. leave, alive.

    p. 54, l. 2. A—E] 2 ll. Melantius, well. l. 5. A—E] 2 ll. besieg'd, commanded. l. 9. A—E] 2 ll. it, much. l. 14. A—E] 2 ll. mov'd, thing. l. 34. A—E] 2 ll. gods, you. l. 37. A—E] 2 ll. crime, knew.

    p. 55, l. 23. A—E] 2 ll. hope, satisfied.

    p. 56, l. 27. A—E] 2 ll. agen, it. ll. 31 and 32. A—E] 2 ll. Foe, him.

    p. 57, ll. 35 and 36. A] 3 ll. thats, strongest, ye.

    p. 58, l. 9. A—E] 2 ll. Land, hurt. l. 22. A—E] 2 ll. hold, state. l. 28. A—G] 2 ll. brest, compasse.

    p. 59, l. 25. A—E] 2 ll. rage, me. l. 30. A—E] 2 ll. sins, ever.

    p. 60, l. 10. A—E] 2 ll. here, defencelesse. ll. 17 and 18. A] 2 ll. plot, King. ll. 35 and 36. B—D] 2 ll. will, then.

    p. 64, l. 19. A—E] 2 ll. act, still.

    p. 67, l. 20. A—E] 2 ll. desire, him.

    p. 69, l. 17. A—E] 2 ll. fight, returnd. l. 19. A—E] 2 ll. against her, it. ll. 20 and 21. A—E] 2 ll. with, you. l. 27. A—E] 2 ll. death, selfe. ll. 37—40 and p. 70, l. 1. A] 5 ll. meane, me, thee,
         brest, defencelesse
    .

    p. 70, l. 3. A—E] 2 ll. fit, here. l. 9. A—E] 2 ll. thee, mischiefes. l. 11. A—E] 2 ll. newes, staid (A stald).

    p. 71, l. 14. A—E] 2 ll. it, home.

    p. 72, l. 27. A—E] 2 ll. hand, yet. l. 37. A—E] 2 ll. haire, thee.