The Maides Tragedy.

AS IT HATH BEENE diuers times Acted at the Blacke-friers by the KINGS Maiesties Seruants.


LONDON Printed for Richard Higgenbotham and are to be sold at the Angell in PAVLS Church-yard. 1619.


  • KING.
  • LYSIPPVS brother to the King.
  • EVADNE, wife to AMINTOR.
  • MELANTIVS brothers to EVADNE.
  • DIPHILVS brothers to EVADNE.
  • ASPATIA troth-plight wife to AMINTOR.
  • CALLIANAX an old humorous Lord, and father to ASPATIA.
  • CA [...]ON Gentlemen.
  • STRATO Gentlemen.
  • DIAGOR As a seruant.
  • ANTIPHILA waiting Gentlewomen to ASPATIA.
  • OLIMPIAS waiting Gentlewomen to ASPATIA.
  • DVLA a Lady.
  • NIGHT Maskers.
  • CINTHIA Maskers.
  • NEPTVNE Maskers.
  • EOLVS Maskers.

The Maydes Tragedy.

Actus. I. Scaen. I.

The rest are making ready sir,

So let them, theres time enough.


You are brother to the King my Lord, wee'le take your word.

Strato thou hast some skill in poetrie,
What think'st thou of a maske, will it be well?

As well as masks can be.


As masks can be.


Yes, they must commend, and speake in praise of the assembly, blesse the Bride and groome, in person of some god, there tied to rules of flatterie.


See good my Lord who is return'd.


Noble Melantius,

Enter Melantius

the land by me welcomes thy vertues home, thou that with blowes abroad bringst vs our peace at home, the breath of Kings is like the breath of gods, my brother wisht thee here, and thou art here, he will be kinde; and wearie thee with often welcome, but the time doth giue thee a wel­come, aboue his, or all the world.


My Lord, my thankes, but these scratcht limbes of mine, haue spoke my loue and truth vnto my friends, more then my tongue ere could, my mind's the same it e­uer [Page] was to you; where I finde worth

I loue the keeper, till he let it goe,
And then I follow it.
Haile worthy brother,
He that reioyces not at your returne
In saferie, is mine enemy for euer.
I thanke thee Diphilus: but thou art faul [...]ie,
I sent for thee to exercise thine armes
With me at Patria, thou camst not Diphilus:
Twas ill.
My noble brother my excuse
Is my Kings straight command, which you my Lord
Can witnesse with me.
Tis most true Mel [...]ntius,
He might not come till the solemnities
Of this great match were past.

Haue you heard of it.

Yes, and haue giuen cause to those, that here
Enuy my deedes abroad, to call me gamesome,
I haue no other busines here at Rhodes.
We haue a maske to night,
And you must tread a souldiers measure.
These soft and silken warres are not for me,
The musicke must be shrill and all confus'd
That stirs my blood, and then I daunce,
But is Amintor wed?

This day?

All ioyes vpon him, for he is my friend,
Wonder not that I call a man so young;
His worth is great, valiant he is,
And one that neuer thinkes his life his owne,
If his friend neede it, when he was a boy,
As oft as I return'd (as without boast)
I brought home conquest, he would gaze vpon me,
And view me round, to [...]iude in what one limbe
The vertue lay to doe those things he heard,
Then would he wish to see my sword, and feele
[Page]The quicknesse of the edge, and in his hand
Weighes it, he oft would make me smile at this;
His youth did promise much, and his ripe yeares
Will see it all perform'd.
Enter Aspatia passing with attendance.
Haile Maide and Wife.
Thou faire Aspatia, may the holy knot,
That thou hast tied to day, last till the hand
Of age vndoe't, mayst thou bring a race
Vnto Amintor, that may fill the world
Successiuely with souldiers.
My hard fortunes
Deserue not scorne, for I was neuer proud
When they were good.
Exit Aspatia.

Howes this.


You are mistaken sir, she is not married.


You said Amintor was.


Tis true, but

Pardon me, I did receiue
Letters at Patria from my Amintor
That he should marie her.
And so it stood,
In all opinion long, but your arriuall
Made me imagine you had heard the change.

Who has he taken then?

A Ladie sir,
That beares the light aboue her, and strikes dead
With flashes of her eye, the faire Euadne
Your vertuous sister.
Peace of heart betwixt them,
But this is strange.
The King my brother did it
To honour you, and these solemnities
Are at his charge.
Tis royall like himselfe,
But I am sad, my speech beares so infortunate a sound
To beautifull Aspatia, there is rage
Hid in her fathers breast Calianax,
[Page]Bent long against me and 'a should not thinke,
Could I but call it backe, that I would take
Such base reuenges as to scorne the state
Of his neglected daughter.
O t'were pittie, for this Lady sir,
Sits discontented with her watrie eyes bent on the ear
In vnfrequented woods are her delight,
Where when she sees a bancke stucke full of flowers,
Then she will sit, and sigh, and tell
Her seruants, what a prittie place it were
To burie louers in, and make her maides
Pluck'em, and strow them ouer her like a corse,
She carries with her an infectious griefe,
That strikes all her beholders, she will sing
The mourn [...]ulst things that euer eare hath heard,
And swound, and sing againe, and when the r [...]st
Of your young Ladyes in their wanton blood,
Tell mirthfull tales in course that fils the roome
With laughter, she will with so sad a looke
Bring forth a storie of the silent death
Of some forsaken virgin, which her griefe
Will put in such a phrase, that ere she end
Shee'le send them weeping one by one away.
She has a brother vnder my command
Like her, a face as womanish as hers,
But with a spirit that hath much outgrowne
The number of his yeares.
Enter Amintor.

My Lord the Bridegroome.

I might run fiercely, not more ha [...]tily,
Vpon my foe, I loue thee well Amintor,
My mouth is much too narrow for my heart,
I ioy to looke vpon those eyes of thine,
Thou art my friend, but my disordred speech
Cuts off my loue.
Thou art Melantius,
All loue is spoke in that, a sacrifice
To thanke the gods, Melantius is return'd
[Page]In safty, victory sits on his sword
As she was wont, may she build there, and dwell,
And may thy armour be as it hath beene,
Onely thy valour and thine innocence,
What endlesse treasures would our enemies giue,
That I might hold thee [...]till thus.
I am poore in words, but credit me young man
Thy mother could do no more but weep, for ioy to see thee
After long absence, all the wound [...] I haue,
Fetcht not so much away, nor all the cries
Of widdowed mothers: But this is peace
And that was warre.
Pardon thon holy god
Of marriage bed, and frowne not, I am for'st
In answere of such noble teares as these,
To weepe vpon my weding day.
I feare thou art grown [...] too [...]ruell, for I heare
A Lady mournes for thee, men say to death,
[...]orsaken of thee, on what tearmes I know not.
She had my promise, but the King fo [...]bad it,
And made me make this worthy change, thy sister
Accompanied with graces about her,
With whom I long to loose my lusty youth,
And grow olde in her armes.

Be prosperous.


My Lord the maske [...]s rage for you.

We are gone,
Cleon, Strato, Diphilus.
Exeunt Lysippus, Cleon, Steat, Diphilus.
Weele all attend you, we shall trouble you
With our solemnities.
Not so Amintor.
But if you laugh at my rude carriage
In sports, il'e doe as much for you in warre
When you come thither, but I haue a mistresse
To bring to your delights, rough though I am,
I haue a mistresse and she has a heart
[Page]She saies, but trust me, it is stone, no better,
There is no place that I can challenge gentlemen,
But you stand still, and here my way lies.
Enter Calianax, and Diagoras.

Diagoras looke to the dores better for shame, you let in all the world, and anon the King will be angry with me, why very well said, by Ioue the King wil haue the show [...]'th the Court;

Why doe you sweare so my Lord,
You know heele haue it here.

By this light if he be wise, he will not.


And if he will not be wise, you are forsworne.

One must sweat out his heart with swearing, & get
Thankes on no side, ile be gone, looke too't who will.
My Lord I shall neuer keepe them out,
Your lookes will terrifie them.

My lookes terrifie them, you coxcomely asse, [...]le be iudge by all the company, whether thou hast not a worse face then I.


I meane because they know you, and your office.


Office, I would I could put it off, I am sure I sweat quite through in my office, I might haue made room at my daughters wedding, they ha neere kild her amongst them. But now I must doe seruice for him that hath forsaken her, serue that will.

Exit Calianax,

Hee's so humerous since his daughter was forsa­ken? hark, hark, whose there, codes, codes, What now?

within Knock within

Open the dore.


Who i'st.




I hope your Lord-ship brings no troope, for i [...] you doe, I must returne them.

Enter Melantius and a Lady.

None but this Lady sir.


The Ladies are all plac'd aboue, saue those that come in the Kings troope, the best of Rhodes sit there, [Page] [...]ere is no roome.


I thanke you sir, when I haue seene you placed ma­dam, I must attend the King, but the maske done, ile waite on you againe.

Exit Melantius Lady other dore.

Stand backe there, roome for my Lord Melanti­us, pray beare back, [...]his is no place for such youthes and their truls, let the dores shut agen, no; do your heads itch, ile scratch them, so now thrust and hang, againe, who i'st now, I cannot blame my Lord Calianax for giuing way, would he were here, he would run raging amongst them, and breake a dozen heads in the twinckling of an eye, what's the newes now?


I pray you can you helpe mee to the speech of the maister Cooke?


If I open the dore ile cooke some of your calues heads. Peace rogues? — againe, — who i'st?



within Enter Calianax.

Let him not in.


O my Lord a must, make roome there for my Lord, is your Lady plast.

Enter Melantius.
Yes sir, I thanke you, my Lord Calianax, well met,
Your causelesse hate to me I hope is buried.
Yes I doe seruice for your sister here,
That brings mine owne poore child to timelesse death,
She loues your friend Amintor, such another false hearted
Lord as you.
You doe me wrong,
A most vnmanly one, and I am slow
In taking vengeance, be well aduis'd.

It may be so, who plac'd the Lady there.


I did.


My Lord she must not sit there.




The place is kept for women of more worth.

More worth then she, it misbecomes your age,
And place to be so womanish, forbeare,
What you haue spoke I am content to thinke
[Page]The palsey [...]hooke your tongue to.

Tis well if I stand here to place mens wenches.


I shall quite forget this place, thy age, my safety, and through all cut that poore sickly weeke thou hast to liue, away from thee.


Nay I know you can fight for your whore.

Bate me the King, and be of flesh and blood
A lies that sayes it, thy mother at fifteene
Was black and sinfull to her.

Good my Lord.

Some god pluck threescore yeares from that fond man,
That I may kill him, and not staine mine honor,
It is the curse of souldiers that in peace,
They shall be braued by such ignoble men,
As (if the land were troubled,) would with teares
And knees beg succor from 'em, would the blood
(That sea of blood) that I haue lost in fight,
Were running in thy veines, that it might make thee
Apt to say lesse, and able to maintaine,
Shouldst thou say more,— This Rhodes I see is nought
But a place priuiledg'd to doe men wrong.

I, you may talke your pleasure.

Enter Amintor.
What vilde wrong
Has sturd my worthy friend, who is as slow
To sight with words as he is quick of hands,
That heape of age, which I should reuerence,
If it were temperate, but testie yeares
Are most contemptible.

Good sir forbeare.


There is iust such another as your selfe.

He will wrong you, or me, or any man,
And talke as if he had no life to loose
Since this our match: the King is come in,
I would not for more wealth then I enioy
He should perceiue you raging, he did heare
You were at difference now, which hastned him.

Make roome there.

Hoboyes play within
[Page] Enter King Euadne, Aspatia, Lords and Ladies.
Melantius thou art welcome, and thy loue
Is with me still; but this is not a place
To brable in, Calianax, ioyne hands.

He shall not haue mine hand.

This is no time
To force you too't I doe loue you both,
Calianax you looke well to your office,
And you Melantius are welcome home,
Begin the maske.
Sister I ioy to see you, and your choyce,
You lookt with my eies when you tooke that man,
Be happy in him.
O my deerest brother,
Your presence is more ioyfull then this day,


Night rises in mists.
Our raigne is now, for in the quenching sea
The Sun is drownd, and with him fell the day,
Bright Cinthia heare my voyce, I am the night
For whom thou bearst about, thy borrowed light,
Appeare, no longer thy pale visage shrowde,
But strike thy siluer hornes quite through a cloud,
And send a beame vpon my swarthie face,
By which I may discouer all the place
And persons that haue many longing eies,
Are come to waite on our solemnities.
Enter Cinthia.
How dull and black am I, can I not finde
This beautie without thee, am I so blinde,
Me thinkes they shew like to those easterne streaks,
That warne vs hence before the morning breaks,
Back my pale seruant, for these eies know how,
To shoote farre more and quicker rayes then thou.
Great Queen they be a troop for whom alone,
One of my clearest moones I haue put on,
[Page]A troope that lookes as if thy selfe and I,
Had pluckt our reines in, and our whips laid by
To gaze vpon those, that appeare
Brighter then we.
Then let vs keepe 'em here,
And neuer more our chariots driue away,
But hold our places and out-shine the day.
Great Queene of shaddowes you are pleasd to speake,
Of more then may be done, we may not breake
The gods decrees, but when our time is come,
Must driue away and giue the day our roome.
Then shine at full pale Queen, & by that power,
Produce a birth to fill this happy houre,
Of Nimphes and shepheards, and let their songs discouer,
Easie and sweete who is a happy louer,
Or if thou w'oot thine owne Endimion
From the sweete [...]lowrie banck he lies vpon,
On La [...]mus brow thy pale beames drawne away [...]
And of his long night let him make thy day.
Thou dreamst darke power, that faire boy was not mine,
Not went I downe to kisse him, ease and winde,
Haue bred these bold tales, poets when they rage
Turnes gods to men, and make an houre an age,
But I will giue a greater state and glory,
And raise to time a nobler memory
Of what these louers are, rise, rise, I say,
Thou power of deepes, thy surges laid away,
Neptune great King of waters, and by me
Be proud to be commanded.
Nep [...]une rises.
Cinthia see,
Thy word hath force me hither, let me know
Why I ascend.
Doth this maiestick show
Giue thee no knowledge ye [...].
Yes, now I see,
Something en [...]nded Cinthia worthy thee,
Go on, ile be a helper.
Hie thee then,
And charge the winde goe from his rockie den,
Let loose his subiects, onely Boreas
Too foule for our intensions as he was,
Still keepe him fast chain'd, we must haue none here
But vera [...]ll blasts and gentle winds appeare,
Such as blow flowers, and through the glad bowes sing,
Many soft welcome to the lusty spring.
Bid them draw neere to haue thy wa [...]ie race
Led on in couples, we are pleas'd to grace
This noble night each in their richest things,
Your owne deepes or the broken vessels brings,
Be prodigall and I shall be as kinde,
And shine at full vpon you.
See the winde
Enter Eolus out of a Rock.
Commanding Eolus.

Great Neptune.




What is thy will.

We doe command thee free,
Fanonius and thy milder winds to waite
Vpon our Cinthia, but tie Boreas straight,
Hee's rebellious.

I shall doe it.

Doe maister of the flould, and all below
Thy full command has taken
O! the Maine


Boreas has broke his chaine,
And strugling with the rest has got away.
Let him alone ile take him vp at sea,
I will not be long thence, goe hence againe
And bid the other call out of the Maine,
Bl [...]w Prot [...]us, and the rest, charge them put on
Their greate [...]t pearles and the most sparkling stone
The beaten rock breeds, till this night is done,
[Page]By me a solemne honor to the Moone,
Flie like a full saile.

I am gone.

Darke night
S [...]ike a full s [...]ilence, doe a thorow right
To this great Chorus, that our musique may
Touch high as heauen, and make the East breake day
At mid-night.
Cinthia to thy power and thee
we obey,
Ioy to this great company
and no day,
Come to steale this night away
Till the rights of loue are ended,
And the lusty Bridegroome say,
Welcome light of all befriended.
Pace out you waterie powers below,
let your feete
Like the gallies when they row
euen beate.
Let your vnknowne measures set
To the still winds, tell to all,
That gods are come immortall great,
To honour this great Nuptuall.
The Measure. Second Song.
Hold back thy houres old night till we haue done,
The day will come too soone,
Young Maydes will curse thee if thou steal'st away,
And leau'st their losses open to the day,
Stay, Stay, and hide
the blushes of the Bride.
Stay gentle night and with thy darkenesse couer [...]
the kisses of her louer.
Stay and confound her teares and her loud cryings,
[Page]Her weake denials vowes and often dyings,
Stay and hide all,
but helpe not if she call.
Maskers daunce, Neptune leads it

Ho Neptune.



The sea goes hie,
Boreas has rais'd a storme, goe and apply
Thy trident, else I prophesie [...]re day,
Many a tall ship will be cast away,
desend with all the gods, and all their powre
To strike a calme.
We thanke you for this houre,
My fauour to you all to gratulate
So great a seruice done at my desire,
Ye shall haue many floods fuller and higher
Then you haue wisht for, and no eb shall dare,
To let the day see where your dwellings are.
Now back vnto your gouernments in hast,
Least your proud waters should swell aboue the wa [...]t,
And win vpon the Iland.
Exeunt Maskers Descend.

We obey.

Hold vp thy head dead night seest thou not day,
The East begins to lighten I must do [...]ne
And giue my brother place.
Oh I could frowne
To see the day, the day that flings his light
Vpon my kingdome, and contemnes olde night,
Let him goe on, and [...]lame, I hope to see
Another wild fire in his ax [...]l [...]ree,
And all fall drencht, but I forget, speake Queene,
The day growes on, I dare no more be seene.
Once heaue thy drowsie head agen and [...]ee
A greater light a greater Maie [...]tie
Betweene our sect and vs, lash vp thy teame
The day breaks here, and yon sun flaring streame
Shot from the south, say which way wilt thou goe.

Ile vanish into mists.



Take light their Ladyes, get the Bride to bed,
We will not see you laid, good night Amintor,
Weele ease you of that tedious ceremony,
Were it my case I should thinke time runne slow
If thou beest noble youth, get me a boy
That may defend my Kingdomes from my foes.

All happinesse to you.


Good night Melantius.


Actus Secundus.

Enter EVADNE, ASPATIA, DVLA, and other Ladyes.
Madame shall we vndresse you for this fight,
The wars are nak't that you must make to night.

You are merry Dula.

I should be far merrier Madame, if it were with me
As it is with you.

Howes that [...]


That I might goe to bed with him with credit that you doe.


Why how now wench.


Come Ladyes, will you helpe.


I am soone vndone.

And as soone done,
Good store of clothes will trouble you at both.

Art thou drunke Dula.


Why heres none but we.

Thou thinkst belike there is no modesty
When we'are alone.

I by my troth, you hit my thoughts right.


You prick me Madame.

1. LAD.

Tis against my will.

Anon you must indure more and lie still,
Tis best to practise.

Sure this wench is mad.

No faith, this is a trick that I haue had
[Page]Since I was foureteene.

Tis time to leaue it.

Nay now ile keepe it till the trick leaue me,
A dozen wanton words put in your head,
Will make you liuelier in your husbands bed.

Nay faith then take it.

Take it Madame, where,
We all will take it I hope that are here.

Nay then ile giue you ore.

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

Wilt lie in my place to night.


Ile hold your cards against any two I know.


What wilt thou doe.


Madame weele doo't and make'm leaue play too.


Aspatia take her part.

I will refuse it,
She will pluck downe aside, she does not vse it.

Do [...] I prethee.

You will finde the play
Quickly, because your head lies well that way.
I thanke thee Dula, would thou coulst instill
Some of thy mirth into Aspatia,
Nothing but sad thoughts in her brest doe dwell,
Me thinkes a meane betwixt you would doe well.
She is in loue, hang me if I were so,
But I could run my Countrey I loue too,
To doe those things that people in loue doe.
It were a timelesse smile should proue my cheeke,
It were a fitter houre for me to laugh,
When at the Alter the religious Priest,
Were passifying the offended powers,
With sacrifice, then now, this should haue beene
My right, and all your hands haue bin imployd,
In giuing me a spotlesse offering
To young Amintors bed, as we are now,
For you pardon Euadne, would my worth
[Page]Were great as yours, or that the King or he
Or both thought so, perhaps he found me worthlesse,
But till he did so, in these eares of mine,
These credulons eares, he powred the sweetest words
That art or loue could frame, if he were false
Pardon it heauen, and if I did want
Vertue, you safely may forgiue that too,
For I haue lost none that I had from you.

Nay leaue this sad talke Madame.


Would I could, then I should leaue the cause.


Loe if you haue not spoild all Dulas mirth.


Thou thinkst thy heart hard, but if thou beest caught remember me; thou shalt perceiue a fire shot suddenly vnto thee.


Thats not so good, let'em shoot any thing but sire, and I feare'm not.


Well wench thou must be taken.


Ladies good night, Ile doe the rest my selfe.


Nay let your Lord d [...]e some.

Madame good night, may all the mariage ioyes
That longing maides imagine in their beds
Proue so vnto you, may not discontent
Grow twixt your loue and you, but if there doe,
Enquire of me and I will guide your mone,
And teach you an artificiall way to grieue,
To keepe your sorrow waking, loue your Lord
No worse then I, but if you loue so well,
Alas you may displease him, so did I,
This is the last time you shall looke on me:
Ladies farewell, as soone as I am dead,
Come all and watch one night about my hearse.
Bring each a mournefull sto [...]ie and a teare,
To offer at it when I goe to earth;
With flattering Iuy claspe my coffin round,
Write on my brow my fortune, let my beere
Be borne by Virgins that shall sing by course,
The truth of maides, and periuries of men.

Alas I pittie thee.

Exit Euadne.

Madame good night.

1. LAD.

Come weele let in the Bridegroome.


Where's my Lord?

1. LAD.
Here take this light,
Enter Amintor.

Heele finde her in the darke.

1. LAD.

Your Ladye's scarse a bed, you must helpe her.

Goe and be happy in your Ladyes loue,
May all the wrongs that you haue done to me,
Be vtterly forgotten in my death,
Ile trouble you no more, yet I will take
A parting kisse, and will not be denied,
You'le come my Lord and see the virgins weepe,
When I am laid in earth; though you your selfe
Can know no pittie, thus I winde my selfe
Into this willow garland, and am prouder
That I was once your loue, (though now refus'd)
Then to haue had another true to me.
So with praiers I leaue you, and must trie
Some yet vnpractis'd way to grieue and die,

Come Ladies will you goe.

Exit Aspatia.
1. LAD.

Good night my Lord.

Much happinesse vnto you all.
Exe: Ladies.
I did that Lady wrong, me thinkes I feele
A griefe shoot suddenly through all my veines,
Mine eyes raine, this is strange at such a time,
It was the King first mou'd me too't, but he
Has not my will in keeping, — why did I
perplex my selfe thus; something whispers me,
Goe not to bed, my guilt is not so great
as mine owne conscience, too sencible
Would make me thinke, I onely breake a promise,
And twas the King inforst me, timerous flesh,
Why shakst thou so, away my idle feares,
Enter Euadne
Yonder is she, the l [...]ster of whose eie,
Can blot away the sad remembrance
Of all these things: — oh my Euadne spare
[Page]That tender body, let it not take cold,
The vapors of the night shall not fall here,
To bed my loue, Hymen will punish vs,
For being slack performers of his rights,
Camst thou to call me.


Come, come, my loue,
And let vs loose our selues to one another,
Why art thou vp so long.

I am not well.

To bed, then let me winde thee in these armes,
Till I haue banisht sicknesse.

Good my Lord I cannot sleepe.


Euadne weele watch, I meane no sleeping.


Ile not goe to bed.


I prethee doe.


I will not for the world.


Why my deere loue.


Why? I haue sworne I will not.






How? Sworne Euadne.

Yes, sworne Amintor, and will sweare againe.
If you will wish to heare me.

To whom haue you sworne this.


If I should name him the matter were not great.


Come, this is but the coynesse of a bride.


The coynesse of a bride.


How pretilie that frowne becomes thee.


Doe you like it so.

Thou canst not dresse thy face in such a looke,
But I shall like it.

What looke will like you best.


Why doe you aske.


That I may shew you one lesse pleasing to you,


Howes that.


That I may shew you one lesse pleasing to you.

I prethee put thy lests in milder lookes,
[Page]It shewes as thou wert angry.

So perhaps I am indeede.

Why, who has done thee wrong,
Name me the man, and by thy selfe sweete loue,
Thy yet vnconquered selfe, I will reuenge it.
Now I shall trie thy truth, if thou doest loue me.
Thou waighst not any thing compar'd to me,
Life, hono [...]r, ioyes eternall, all delights
The world can yeeld, are light as aire
To a true louer when his Lady frownes,
And bids him doe this, wilt thou kill this man,
Sweare my Amintor, and ile kisse the sun
Of thy lips.

I wonnot swear sweet loue, till I know the cause.

I wood thou wouldst,
Why, it is thou that wrongst me, I hate thee,
Thou should'st haue kild thy selfe.
If I should know that, I should quickly kill
The man you hated.

Know it, and doo't.

Oh no, what looke so ere thou should'st put on,
To trie my faith, I cannot thinke thee false,
I cannot finde one blemish in thy face
Where falsehood should abide, leaue, and to bed,
If you haue sworne to any of the virgins
That were your olde companio [...]s to preserue
Your maidenhead a night, it may be done
Without this meanes.

A maidenhead Amintor at my yeares.

Sure she raues, this cannot be,
Her naturall temper, shall I call thy maides,
Either thy healthfull fleepe hath left thee long,
Or else some feauer rages in thy blood.
Neither of these, what thinke you I am mad,
Because I speake the truth.

Is this the truth, wil you not lie with me to night.


You talke as if you thought I would hereafter.


Hereafter, yes I doe.

You are deceiu'd, put off amazement & with pati­ence mark,
What I shall vtter, for the Oracle
Knowes nothing truer [...] tis not for a night
Or two that I forbeare your bed, but euer.

I dreame,—awake Amintor.

You heare right,
I sooner would finde out the beds of Snakes,
And with my youthfull blood warme their cold flesh,
Letting them curle themselues about my limbes,
then sleepe one night with thee; this is not faind,
Nor sounds it like the kisses of a bride.
Is flesh so earthly to endure all this,
Are these the ioyes of mariage, Hymen keepe
This story (that will make succeeding youth
Neglect thy ceremonies) from all eares.
Let it not rise vp for thy shame and mine
To after ages, we will scorne thy lawes,
If thou no better blesse them, touch the heart
Of her whom thou hast sent me, or the world
Shall know this, not an altar then will smoake
In praise of thee, we will adopt vs sonnes,
Then vertue shall inherit and not blood,
If we doe lust, we'le take the next we meet;
Seruing our selues as other creatures do [...],
And neuer take note of the female more,
Nor of her issue: I doe rage in vaine,
She cannot iest; Oh pardon me my loue,
So deare the thoughts are which I hold of thee,
That I must breake forth; satisfie my feare,
It is a paine beyond the paine of death,
To be in doubt; confirme it with an oath,
If this be true.
Doe you inuent the forme,
Let there be in it all the binding wordes
Diuels and coniurers can put together,
And I will take it, I haue sworne before,
[Page]And here by all things holy doe againe,
Neuer to be acquainted with thy bed,
Is your doubt ouer now.
I know too much, would I had doubted still,
Was euer such a mariage night as this:
You powers aboue, if you did euer meane
Man should be vs'd thus, you haue thought a way
How he may beare himselfe, and saue his honour:
Instant me with it, for to my dull eyes
There is no meane, no moderate course to runne,
I must liue scorn'd or be a murderer:
Is there a third, why is this night so calme,
Why does not heauen speake in thundet to vs,
And drowne their voyce.

This rage will doe no good.

Euadne, heare me, thou hast tane an oath,
But such a rash one, that to keepe it were
Worse then to sweare it, call it backe to thee,
Such vowes as that neuer ascend the heauen,
A teare or two will wash it quite away,
Haue mercy on my youth, my hopefull youth,
If thou be pittifull, for without boast
This land was proud of me, what Lady was there
That men eald faire, and vertuous in this I [...]le
That would haue shund my loue, it is in thee
To make me hold this worth—Oh we vaine men
That trust all our reputation
To rest vpon the weake and yeelding hand
Of feeble woman, but thou art not stone,
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doe dwell
The spirit of loue, thy heart cannot be hard,
Come leade me from the bottome of dispaire,
To a [...] the ioyes thou hast, I know thou wilt.
An [...] make me carefull least the sudden change
Ore-come my spirits.

When I call back this oath, the paines of hell inuiron me.

I sleepe and am to temporate, come to bed,
Or by those haires which if thou hast a soule; like to thy locks,
Were threads for Kings to weare
About their armes.

Why so perhaps they are.

Ile dragge thee to my bed, and make thy tongue [...]
Vndoe this wicked oath, or on thy flesh
Ile print a thousand wounds to let out life.
I feare thee not, doe what thou darst to me,
Euery ill sounding word, or threatning looke
Thou shewest to me, will be reueng'd at full.

It will not sure Euadne.


Doe not you hazard that.


Ha ye your Champions.

Alas Amintor thinkst thou I forbeare
To sleepe with thee, because I haue put on
A maidens strictnesse, looke vpon these cheekes,
And thou shalt finde the hot and rising blood
Vnapt for such a vow, no, in this heart
There dwels as much desire, and as much will,
To put that wished act, as euer yet
Was knowne to woman, and they haue been showne
Both, but it was the folly of thy youth,
To thinke this beauty, to what land soe're
It shall be cald, shall stoope to any second,
I doe enioy the best, and in that height
Haue sworne to stand or die, you guesse the man.
No, let me know the man that wrongs me so [...]
That I may cut his body into motes,
And scatter it before the Northen winde.

You dare not strike him.

Doe not wrong me so,
Yes, if his body were a poysonous plant,
That it were death to touch, I haue a soule
Will throw me on him.

Why tis the King.


The King.


What will you doe now?


It is not the King.


What did he make this match for dull Amintor.

Oh thou hast nam'd a word that wipes away
All thoughts reuengefull, in that sacred word,
The King, there lies a terror, what fraile man
Dares lift his hand against it, let the Gods
Speake to him when they please, till when let vs
Suffer, and wai [...]e.
Why should you fill your selfe so full of heate,
And haste so to my bed, I am no virgin.
What Diuell hath put it in thy fancy then
To mary mee.
Alas, I must haue one
To father children, and to bea [...]e the name
Of husband to me, that my sinne may be
More honorable.
What strange thing am I?
A miserable one, one that my selfe
Am sory for.
Why shew it then in this,
If thou hast pittie, though thy loue be none,
Kill me, and all true louers that shall loue
In after ages crost in their desires,
Shall blesse thy memorie, and call thee good,
Because such mercy in thy breast was found,
To rid a lingring wretch.
I must haue one
To fill thy roome againe if thou wert dead,
Else by this night I could, I pi [...]y thee.
These strange and sudden iniuries haue falen
So thick vpon me, that I lose all sense
Of what they are, me thinkes 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 showne
An impudence so high, that to the world
[Page]I feare thou wilt betray or shame thy selfe.
To couer shame, I tooke thee neuer feare,
That I would blaze my selfe.
Nor let the King
Know I conceiue he wrongs me, then mine honour
Will thrust me into action, that my flesh
Could beare with patience, and it is some ease
To me in these extreames, that I know this
Before I toucht thee, else had all the sinnes
Of mankinde stood betwixt me and the King,
I had gone through, e'ne to his hart and thine
I haue left one desire, tis not his crowne
Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolue
He has dishonour'd thee, giue me thy hand,
Be carefull of thy credit, and sinne close
Tis all I wish, vpon thy chamber floure
Ile rest to night, that morning visiters
May thinke we did as married people vse,
And prethee smile vpon me when they come,
And seeme to toy as if thou hadst beene pleas'd
With what I did.

Feare not, I will doe this.

Come let vs practise, and as wantonly
As euer longing bride and bridegroome met,
Lets laugh and enter here.
I am content.
Downe all the swellings of my troubled heart,
When we walke thus intwind let all eyes see,
If euer louers better did agree.
Enter Aspatia, Antiphila, Olimpias.
Away you are not, force it no further,
Good, good, how well you looke, such a full colour
Young bashfull brides put on, sure you are new maried.

Yes Madame to your griefe.

Alas poore wentches
Goe learne to loue [...]irst, learne to lose your selues,
Learne to be flattered, and beleeue and blesse
[Page]The double tongue that did it,
Did you ere loue yet wenches, speake Olimpas,
Thou hast a metled temper, fit for stamp.



Nor you Antiphila.


Nere I.

Then my good girles be more then women wi [...]e [...]
At least, be more then I was, come le [...]s be sad my girles,
That downe cast of thine eye Olimpias,
Showes a faind sorrow; marke Antiphila,
Iust such another was the Nymph Oenes,
When Paris brought home Hellen, now a teare,
And then thou art a peece expressing fu [...]ie,
The Carthage Queene when from a cold Sea rock,
Full with her sorrow, she tyed fast her eyes,
To the faire Troian ships, hauing lost them,
Iust as thine does, downe stole a teare! Antiphila,
What would this wench doe if she were Aspatia,
Here she would stand, till some more, pittying god
Turnd her to Marble, tis enough my wench,
Show me the peece of needl [...] worke you wrought.

Of Ariadne Madame?

Yes that peece,
This should be Theseus, has a cousening face,
You ment him for a man.

He was so Madame.

Why then tis well enough, neuer looke black,
You haue a full winde, and a false heart Theseus,
Does not the story say, his Keele was split,
Or his masts spent, or some kind rock or other
Met with his vessell.

Not as I remember.

It should ha been so, could the Gods know this,
And none of all their number raise a storme,
But they are all as ill, this false smile was exprest well,
Iust such another caught me, you shall not goe so
Antiphila, in this place worke a quick-sand,
And ouer it a shallow smiling water,
[Page]And ouer it a shallow smiling water,
And his ship plowing it, and then a feare,
Doe that feare brauely wench.

Twill wrong the storie.

Twill make the story, wrong'd by wanton Poets,
Liue long and be beleeu'd, but wheres the Lady.

There Madame.

Fie, you haue mist it there Antipila,
You are much mistaken wench:
These colours are not dull and pale enough,
To show a soule so full of miserie
As this poore Ladies was, doe it by me,
Doe it againe, by me the lost Aspatia,
And you will find all true but the wilde Iland,
Suppose I stand vpon the Sea, breach now
Mine armes thus, and mine haire blowne with the wind,
Wilde as the place she was in, let all about me
Be teares of my story, doe my face,
If thou hadst euer feeling of a sorrow,
Thus, thus, Antiphila make me looke good gi [...]le
Like sorrowes mount, and the trees about me
Let them be dry and leauelesse, let the rocks
Groane with contiunall [...]urges, and behind me
Make all a desolation, see, see wenches,
A miserable life of this poore picture.

Deare Madame.

I haue done, sit downe, and let v [...]
Vpon [...]hat point fixe all our eyes, [...]hat point there [...]
Make a dumbe silence till you feele a sudden sadnesse
Giue vs new soules.
Enter Calaina [...].
The King may doe this, and he may not doe it,
My childe is wrongd, disgrac'd, well, how now huswiues,
What at your ease, is this a time to sit still, vp you young
Lazie whores, vp or ile swenge you.

Nay good my Lord.

You'l lie downe shortly, in and whine there,
What are you growne so ru [...]tie you want hea [...]e [...],
[Page]We shall haue some of the Court boyes heat you shortly.
Good my Lord be not angry, we doe nothing
But what my Ladies pleasure is, we are thus in griefe,
She is forsaken. [...]
Theres a rogue too,
A slie dissembling slaue, well? get you in,
Ile haue about with that boy, tis hie time
Now to be valiant, I confesse my youth
Was neuer prone that way,
A Court stale, well I must be valiant,
And beate some dozen of these whelps, and theres
Another of'em, a trim cheating souldier,
Ile maule that raschall, has out-brau'd me twice,
But now I thanke the Gods I am valiant,
Goe, get you in, ile take a course with all.
Exeunt o [...].

Actus Tertius.


Your sister is not vp yet.

Our brides must take their mornings rest,
The night is troublesome.

But not tedious,


What ods, hee has not my sisters maiden-head to night.


None, its ods against any bridegrome liuing, he nere gets it while he liues.


Y'are merry with my sister, you'le please to al­low me the same freedome with your mother.


Shees at your seruice.


Then shees merry enough of herselfe, shee needs no tickling, knock at the dore.


We shall interrupt them.


No matter they haue the yeare before them, good morrow sister, spare your selfe to day, the night will come againe.

Enter Amintor.

Whose there my brother, I am no readier yet, your sister is but now vp.


You looke as you had lost your eyes to night, I [Page] thinke you ha not slept.


I faith I did not.


You haue done better then.


We haue ventured for a boy, when hee is twelue, a shall command against the foes of Rhodes, shall we be merry.

You cannot, you want sleepe,
Tis true, but she
As if she had drunke Lethe, or had made
Euen with heauen, did fetch so still a sleepe,
So sweet and sound.

Whats that?


Your sister frets this morning, and doth turne her eyes vpon mee, as people on the heads­man, she does chafe, and kisse and chafe, and clap my cheeks, shees in another world.


Then I had lost, I was about to lay, you had not got [...] her maiden head to night.


Ha, does hee not mocke mee, y'ad lost indeed I doe not bungle.


You doe deserue her.

I [...]a [...]d my lips to hers, and that wilde breach
That was so rude and rough to me, last night
Was sweete as Aprill, ile be guilty too,
If these be the effects.
Enter Melanti [...].
Good day Amintor, for to me the name
Of brother is too distant, we are friends,
And that is nearer.
Deare Melantius,
Let me behold thee, is it possible.

What sudden gaze is this.


Tis wondrous strange.

Why does thine eye desire so strict a view
Of that it knowes so well? theres nothing here
That is not thine.
I wonder much Melantius.
To see those noble lookes that make mo thinke,
[Page]How vertuous thou art, and on this sudden
Tis strange to me, thou shouldst haue worth and honour,
Or not be base and false, and treacherous,
And euery ill.
Say, stay my friend,
I feare this sound will not become our loues, no more em­brace me.
Oh mistake me not,
I know thee to be full of all those deeds,
That we fraile men call good, but by the course
Of nature thou shouldst be as quickly chang'd,
As are the windes dissembling, as the Sea,
That now weares browes as smooth as virgins be,
Tempting the Merchant to inuade his face.
And in an houre call his billowes vp,
And shoot em at the Sun, destroying all
A carries on him, Oh how neare am I
To vtter my sicke thoughts.

Why, my friend, should I be so by nature?


I haue wed thy sister, who hath vertuous thoughts [...]now for one whole familie, and it is strange,

That you should feele no want.


Beleeue me this is cōplement too cunning for me.

What should I be then by the course of nature,
They hauing both robd me of so much vertue.

Oh call the bride my Lord Amintor, that wee may see her blush, and turne her eyes downe, it is the pr [...]itie [...]t sport.




My Lord.

Come forth my loue,
Your brothers doe attend to wish you ioy.

I am not ready yet.

Enough, enough,

They'le mocke me.


Faith thou shalt come in.

Enter Euadne.
Good morrow sister, he that vnderstands
Whom you haue wed, need not to wish you ioy,
[Page]You haue enough, take heed you be not proud.

O sister what haue you done.


Why what haue I done?


My Lord Amintor sweares you are no maid now.




I faith he does.


I knew I should be mockt.


With a truth.


If twere to do againe, in faith I would not mary.


Nor I by heauen.


Sister, Dula sweares she heard you cry two roomes off.


Fi [...] how you talke.


Lets see you walke.


By my troth y'are spoild.




H [...].


Thou art sad.


Who I, I thanke you for that, shall Diphilus thou and I sing a catch.




Prethee l [...]t [...].


Nay that [...] too much the other way [...]


I am so heighned with my happinesse, how dost thou loue, kisse me.


I connot loue you, you tell tales of me.

Nothing but what becomes vs, Gentlemen
Would you had all such wiues, and all the world,
That I might be no wonder, y'are all sad,
What doe you enuie me, I walke me thinkes
On water, and nere sinke I am so light.

Tis well you are so.

Well? can you be other when shee lookes thus,
Is there no musike there, lets dance.

Why? this is strange.


I do not know my selfe, yet I could wish my ioy were le [...]se.


Ile marrie if it will make one thus


Amintor, harke.


What sayes my loue I must obey.


You doe it scuru [...]ly, [...]will be perceiu'd.


My Lord the King is here.

Enter King & Lisi [...]:



And his brother.

Good morrow all.
Amintor ioy on ioy fall thicke vpon thee,
But Madame you are alterd since I saw you,
I must salute you, you are now anothers,
How lik't you your nights rest.

Ill sir.


Indeede she tooke but little.


You'le let her take more, &c thanke her too shortly.


Amintor wert thou truely honost till thou wert married.


Yes sir.


Tell me how then shewes the sport to you.


Why well?


What did you doe.

no more nor lesse then other couples vse,
You know what tis, it has but a course name [...]
But prethee I should thinke by her black eie
And her red cheeke, she should be quick and stirring
In this same businesse; ha?
I cannot tell I nere tried other sir, but I perceiue
She is as quick as you deliuered.
Well youle trust me then Amintor,
To choose a wife for you agen.

No neuer sir.


Why? like you this so ill.

So well I like her,
For this I bow my knee in thanks to you,
And vnto heauen will pay my gratefull tribute
Hourely, and doe hope we shall draw out,
A long contented life together here,
And die both full of gray haires in one day,
for which the thanks is yours, but if the powers
That rule vs, please to call her first away,
Without pride spoke, this world holds not a wife
Worthy to take her roome.
Asid [...]
I doe not like this; all forbeare the roome
But you Amintor and your Lady, I haue some speech that may
Concerne your after liuing well [...]
A will not tell me that he lies with her, if hee doe,
For it is apt to thrust this arme of mine to acts vnlawfull.
You will suffer me to talke with her Amintor,
And not haue iealous pangs.
Sir, I dare trust my wife,
When she dares to talke, and not be iealous [...]

How doe you like Amintor.


As I did sir.


Howes that?

As one that to fulfill your pleasure,
I haue giuen leaue to call me wife and loue.
I see there is no lasting faith in sin,
They that breake word with heauen, will breake agen
With all the world, and so doest thou with me.

How sir.

This subtle womans ignorance
Will not excuse you, thou hast taken oathes
So great, that me thought they did misbecome
A womans mouth, that thou wouldst nere inioy
A man but me.

I neuer did sweare so, you doe me wrong.


Day and night haue heard it.

I swore indeede that I would neuer loue
A man of lower place, but if your fortune
Should throw you from this hight, I bad you trust
I would forsake you, and would bend to him
That won your throne, I loue with my ambition,
Not with my eies, but if I euer yet
Toucht any other, Leprosie light here
Vpon my face, which for your rioyaltie
I would not staine.
Why thou dissemblest, and it is in me
To punish thee.
Why, it is in me then, not to loue you, which will
More afflict your bodie, then your punishment can mine.

But thou hast let Amintor lie with thee.


I hannot.


Impudence, he saies himselfe so.


A lies.


A does not.

By this light he does, strangely and basely, and
Ile prooue it so, I did not onely shun him for a night,
But told him I would neuer close with him.

Speake lower, tis false.

I am no man to answer with a blow,
Or if I were, you are the King, but vrge not, tis most true.
Doe not I know the vncontrouled thoughts,
That youth brings with him, when his blood is high,
With expectation and desire of that
He long hath waited for, is not his spirit
Though he be temperate, of a valiant [...]traine
As this our age hath knowne, what could he doe
If such a suddaine speech had met his blood,
But ruine thee for euer, if he had not kild thee
He could not beare it thus, he is as we
Or any other wrong'd man.
This is dissembling,
Amintor, thou hast an ingenious looke,
And should'st be vertuous, it amazeth me
That thou should'st make such base malicious lies.

What my deere wife.

Deere wife, I doe despise thee,
Why nothing can be baser then to sow
Discention amongst louers,

Louers? who.


The King and I.


Oh God.

Who should liue long and loue without distast,
Were it not for such pickthanks as thy selfe,
Did you lie with me, sweare now, and be punisht in hell
For this.
The faithlesse sin I made
To faire Aspati [...], is not yet reueng'd,
It followes me, I will not loose a word
To this wilde woman, but to you my King,
The anguish of my soule thrusts out this truth,
[Page]Y'are a tirant, and not so much to wrong
An honest man thus, as to take a pride
In talking with him of it.

Now sir, see how loud this fellow lies.

A [...]IN.
You that can know to wrong, shold know how
Men must right themselues, what punishment is due,
From me to him that shall abuse my bed,
It is not death, nor can that satisfie,
Vnlesse I show how nobly I haue freed my selfe.
Draw not thy sword, thou knowst I cannot feare
A subiects hand, but thou shalt feele the weight
Of this if thou doest rage.
The waite of that,
If you haue any worth, for heauens sake thinke
I feare not swords, for as you are meere man,
I dare as easily kill you for this deede,
As you dare thinke to doe it, but there is.
Diuinitie about you, that strikes dead
My rising passions, as you are my King,
I fall before you and present my sword,
To cut mine owne [...]lesh if it be your will,
Alas! I am nothing but a multitude of
walking griefes, yet should I murder you,
I might before the world take the excuse
Of madnesse, for compare my iniuri [...]s,
And they will well appeare too sad a weight
For reason to endure, but fall I first
Amongst my sorrowes, ere my treacherous sword
Touch holy things, but why? I know not what
I haue to say, why did you choose out me
To make thus wretched, there are thousands
Easie to worke on, and of state enough
Within the Land.

I wold not haue a foole, it were no credit for me [...]

Worse and worse,
Thou that darst talke vnto thy husband thus,
Professe thy selfe a whore, and more then so,
[Page]Resoule to be so still, is it my fault,
To beare and bow beneath a thousand griefes,
To keepe that little credit with the world,
But there were wise ones to, you might haue tane another.

No, for I beleeue thee honest, as thou wert valiant.

All the happinesse
Bestowd vpon me turnes into disgrace,
Gods take your honesty againe, for I
Am loaden with it, good my Lord the King
Be priuate in it.
Thou maist liue Amintor,
Free as thy King, if thou wilt winke at this,
And be a meanes that we may meet in secret,
A baud, hold, hold my breast, a bitter curse
Ceaze me, if I forget not all respects
That are religious, on an other word
Seconded like that, and through a Sea of sinnes
Will wade to my reuenge, though I should call
Plagues here, and after life, vpon my soule.
Well, I am resolute, you lay with her,
And so I leaue you.
Exit King.

You must needs be prating, and see what follows.

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

I am gone, I loue my life well.

Exit Euadne.
I hate mine as much,
This tis to breake a troth, I should be glad,
If all this tide of griefe would make me mad.
Enter Melantius.
Ile know the cause of all Amintors griefes,
Or friendship shall be idle.
Enter Calianax.

O Melantius, my daughter will die.


Trust me I am sory, would thou hadst tane her part.


Thou art a slaue, a cut-throat slaue, a bloody—

Take heed old man, thou wilt be heard to raue,
And lose thine office.
I am valiant growne,
At all these yeares, and thou art but a slaue.
Some companie will come, and I respect
Thy yeares, not thee so much, that I could wish
To laugh at thee alone.
Ile spoile your mirth, I meane to fight with thee,
There lie my cloake, this was my fathers sword,
And he durst fight, are you prepar'd?

Why? wilt thou doate thy selfe out of thy life, hence get thee to bed, haue carefull looking to, and eate warme things, and trouble not mee, my head is full of thoughts, more waighty then thy life or death can be.

You haue a name in warre, where you stand safe [...]
Amongst a multitude, but I will try,
What you dare doe vnto a weake old man [...]
In single fight you'l giue ground I feare,
Come draw.
I will not draw, vnlesse thou pulst thy death
Vpon thee with a stroke, ther [...]s no on [...] blow
That thou canst giue hast [...]rength enough can kill me,
Tempt me not so far then, the power of earth
Shall not redeeme thee.
I must let him alone,
Hees stout, and able, and to say the truth,
How euer I may set a face and talke,
I am not valiant, when I was a youth
I kept my credit with a testie tricke,
I had mongst cowards, but durst neuer fight.

I will not promise to preserue your life if you doe stay.


I would giue halfe my land that I durst fight with that proud man a little, if I had men to hold [...] him, I would beate him, till hee askt me [...] m [...]r­cie.


Sir will you begone?


I dare not stay, but I will beate my seruants all [Page] ouer [...]or this.

Exit Calianax [...]
This old fellow haunts me,
But the distracted carriage of mine Amintor,
Takes deeply on me, I will find the cause,
I feare his conscience cries, he wrongd Aspatia.
Enter Amintor.
Mans eyes are not subtile to perceiue
My inward miserie, I beare my griefe
Hid from the world, how art thou wretched then,
For ought I know all husbands are like me,
And euery one I talke with of his wife,
Is but a well dissembler of his woes
As I am, would I knew it for the rarenesse
Afflicts me now.

Amintor, we haue not enioy'd our friendship of late, for we were wont to charge our soules in talke.


Melantius, I can tell the a good [...]est of Strato, and a Lady the last day.


How wast;


Why such an odde one.


I haue longd to speake with you, not of an idle i [...]st thats forst, but of matter you are bound to vtter to me.


What is that my friend?

I haue obseru'd your wordes fall from your tongue
Wildely, and all your carriage
Like one that striues to shew his merry moode,
When he were ill dispos'd, you were not wont
To put such scorue into your speech—yow weare
Vpon your face ridiculous iollity,
Some sadnesse sits heere, which your tongue would
Couer ore with smiles, and twill not be,
What is it?
A sadnesse here, what cause
Can Fate prouide for me to make me so,
Am I not lou'd through all this Isle, the King
Raines greatnesse on me, haue I not receiued
[Page]A Lady to my bed, that in her eye
Keepes mounting fire, and on her tender cheekes
Immutable colour, in her heart
A prison for all vertue, are not you,
Which is aboue all ioyes, my constant friend:
What saddnesse can I haue, no, I am light,
And feele the courses of my blood more warme
And stirring then they were; faith marry too,
And you will feele so vnexprest a ioy
In chaste embraces, that you will indeed
Appeare another.
You may shape Amintor
Causes to cozen the whole world withall,
And yourselfe too, and tis not like a friend,
To hide your soule from me, tis not your nature
To be thus idle, I haue seene you stand,
As you were blasted midst of all your mirth,
Call thrice aloud, and then start, fayning ioy
So coldly, world? what doe I here, a friend
Is nothing, heauen I would ha told that man
My secret [...]innes, ile search an vnknowne [...]and,
And there plant friendship, all is withered here,
Come with a complement, I would haue fought,
Or told my friends a lied, ere soothd him so;
Out of my bosome.

But there is nothing.

Worse and worse, farewell;
From this time haue acquaintance, but no friend.

Melantius, stay, you shall know what that is.

See how you plead with friendship, be aduis'd
How you giue cause vnto your selfe to say,
You ha lost a friend.
Forgiue what I ha done,
For I am so ore-gon with miseries,
Vnheard of, that I lose consideration
Of what I ought to do,—oh—oh.
Doe not weepe, what ist?
[Page]May I once but know the man
Hath turnd my friend thus.
I had spoke at first, but that,

But what?

I held it most vnfit
For you to know, faith doe not know it yet.
Thou seest my loue, that will keep company
With thee in teares, hide nothing then from me,
For when I know the cause of thy distemper,
With mine old armour ile adorne my selfe,
My resolution, and cut through thy foes
Vnto thy quiet, till I place thy heart
As peaceable as spotlesse innocence.
What is it?
Why tis this,—it is too bigge
To get out, let my teares make way awhile.
Punish me strangly heauen, if he scape
Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this.

Your sister.


Well sayd.


You'l wisht vnknowne when you haue heard it.



Is much to blame,
And to the King has giuen her honour vp,
And liues in whoredome with him.
How's this?
Thou art run mad with iniury indeed,
Thou couldst not vtter this, else speake againe,
For I forgiue it freely, tell thy griefes.
shees wanton, I am loth to say a whore,
Though it be true.
Speake yet againe, before mine anger grow
Vp beyond throwing downe, what are thy griefes?

By all our friendship, these.

What, am I [...]ane,
After mine actions, shall the name of friend
Blot all our family, and stick the brand
[Page]Of whore vpon my sister vnreueng'd [...]
My shaking flesh be thou a witnesse for me,
With what vnwillingnesse I goe to scourge
This rayler, whom my folly hath cald friend,
I will not take thee basely, thy sword
Hangs neere thy hand, draw it, that I may whip
Thy rashnesse to repentance, draw thy sword.
Not on thee, did thine anger goe as high
As troubled waters, thou should [...] doe me ease,
Heere, and eternally, if thy noble hand,
Would cut me from my sorrowes.
This is base,
And fearefull, they that vse to vtter lies,
Prouide not blowes, but wordes to qualifie
The men they wrong'd, thou hast a guilty cause.
Thou pleasest me, for so much more like this,
Will raise my anger vp aboue my griefes,
Which is a passion easier to be knowne,
And I shall then be blessed.
Take then more, to raise thine anger, tis meere
Cowardise makes thee not draw, & I will leaue thee dead
How euer, but if thou art so much prest,
With guilt and feare, as not to dare to fight,
Ile make thy memory loath'd, and fix a farewell
Vpon thy name for euer.
Then I draw,
As iustly as our Magistrates their swords,
To cut offenders off; I knew before,
Twould grate your eares, but it was base in you
To vrge a waighty secret from your friend,
And then rage at it, I shall be at ease
If I be kild, and if you fall by me,
I shall not long out liue you.
Stay a while,
The name of friend, is more then familie,
Or all the world besides; I was a foole,
Thou searching humane nature, that didst make
[Page]To doe me wrong thou art inquisitiue,
And thrusts me vpon questions that will take
My sleepe away, would I had died ere knowne
This sad dishonor, pardon me my friend,
If thou wilt strike, here is a faithfull heart,
Pearce it, for I will neuer heaue my hand
To thine, behold the power thou hast in me,
I doe beleeue my sister is a whore,
A leprous one, put vp thy sword young man.
How should I beare it then she being so,
I feare my friend that you will loose me shortly,
And I shall doe a foule act on my selfe
Through these disgraces.
Better halfe the la [...]d
Were buried quick together, no Amintor,
Thou shalt haue ease of this adulterous King
That drew her too't, where got he the spirit
To wrong me so.
What is it then to me?
If it be wrong to you.
Why not so much, the credit of our house
Is throwne away,
But from his iron den ile waken death,
And hurle him on this King, my honestie
shall steele my sword, and on my horrid point
Ile weare my cause, that shall amaze the eyes
Of this proud man, and be to glittring
For him to looke on.

I haue quite vndone my fame.

D [...]ie vp thy watrie eyes,
And cast a manly looke vpon my face,
For nothing is so wilde as I thy friend
Till I haue freed thee, still this swelling brest,
I goe thus from thee, and will neuer cease
My vengeance till I finde thy heart at peace.
It must not be so, stay, mine eyes would tell
How loath I am to this, but loue and teares
[Page]Leaue me a while, for I haue hazarded
All that this world calls happy, thou hast wrought
A secret from me vnder name of friend,
Which art could nere haue found, nor torture wrong
From out this bosome, giue it me agen,
For I will finde it where so ere it lies
Hid in the mortal'st part, inuent a way
To giue it backe.
Why? would you haue it backe,
I will to death persue him with reuenge.
Therefore I call it frō thee, for I know
Thy blood so high, that thou wilt stir in this, take to thy weapon

Heare thy friend that bears more yeares then thou.


I will not heare, but draw, or I —



Draw then, for I am full as resolute
As fame, and honor can inforce me,
I cannot linger, draw?
I doe, — but is not
My share of credit equall with thine
If I doe stir.
No? for it will be cald
Honor in thee to spill thy sisters blood,
If she her birth abuse, and on the King
A braue reuenge, but on me that haue walkt
With patience in it, it will fixe the name
Of fearefull cuckold, — O that word,
Be quick.

Then ioyne with me.


I dare not doe a sinne, or else I would be speedy.

Then dare not fight with me, for that's a sin,
His griefe distracts him, call thy thoughts agen,
And to thy selfe pronounce the name of friend,
And see what that will worke, I will not fight.

You must?

I will be kild first, though my passions
Offered the like to you, tis not this earth
[Page]Shall by my reason to it, thinke awhile
For you are, (I must weepe when I speake it,)
All most besides your selfe.
Oh my soft temper,
So many sweete words from thy sisters mouth,
I am afraid would make me take her,
To embrace and pardon her, I am mad indeede,
And know not what I doe, but haue a care
Of me in what thou doest.
Why thinks my friend I will forget his honor, or to saue
The brauerie of your house, will loose his fame
And feare to touch the throne of Maiestie.
A curse will follow that, but rather liue
And suffer with me.

I will doe what worth shall bid me.

Faith I am sicke, and desperately I hope,
Yet leaning thus I feele a kinde of ease.

Come take agen your mirth about you.


I shall neuer doo't.

I warrant you, looke vp, weele walke together,
Put thine arme here, all shall be well agen.
Thy loue, o wretched, I thy loue Melantius, why I
Haue nothing else.

Be merry then.

Enter Melantius agen.
This worthie yong man may doe violence
Vpon himselfe, but I haue cherisht him
As well as I could, and sent him s [...]iling from me
To counterfeit againe, sword hold thine edge,
My heart will neuer faile me? Diphilus,
Thou comst as sent.
Enter Diphilus.

Yonder has bin such laughing.


Betwixt whom?

Why our sister and the King,
I thought their spleenes would breake,
They laught vs all out of the roome.

They must weepe Diphilus.


Must they?

They must? thou art my brother, & if I did beleeue,
Thou hadst a base thought, I would [...]ip it out,
Lie where it durst.

You should not, I would first mangle my selfe & finde it.

That was spoke according to our strain, come ioyne thy hands,
And sweare a fiermenesse to what proiect [...]
Shall lay before thee.
You doe wrong vs both,
People hereafter shall not say there past
A bond more then our loues to tie our liues
And deathes together.
It is as nobly said as I would wish,
Anon ile tell you wonders, we are wrong'd.

But I will tell you now, weele right our selues.

Stay not, prepare the armour in my house,
And what friends you can draw vnto our side,
Not knowing of the cause, make ready too,
Hast Diph: the time requires it, hast.
Exit Diphilus.
I hope my cause is iust, I know my blood
Tels me it is, and I will credit it,
To take reuenge and loose my selfe withall,
Were idle, and to scape, impossible,
Without I had the [...]ort, which miserie
Remaining in the hands of my olde enemy
Calianax, but I must haue it, see
Enter Calianax.
Where he comes shaking by me, good my Lord
Forget your spleene to me, I neuer wrong'd you,
But would haue peac [...] with euery man.
Tis well?
If I durst [...]ight, your tongue would lie at quiet.

Y'are touchie without all cause.


Doe? mock me.


By mine honor I speake truth.


Honor? where ist.

See what starts you make into your idle hatred.
I am come with resolution to obtaine a sute
[Page]Of you.

A sute of me, tis very like it should be granted sir.

Nay, goe not hence,
Tis this, you haue the keeping of the fort,
And I would wish you by the loue you ought
To beare vnto me to deliuer it
Into my hands.

I am in hope thou art mad, to talke to me thus.

But there is a reason to moue you to it, I would
Kill the King, that wrong'd you and your daughter.

Out traitor.

Nay but stay, I cannot scape the deede once done
Without I haue this fort.

And should I help thee, now thy treacherous mind betraies it selfe.

Come delay me not,
Giue me a suddaine answere, already,
The last is spoke, refuse my offerd loue,
When it comes clad in secrets.
If I say I will not, he will kill me, I doe see't writ
In his lookes, and should I say I will, heele run and tell the
King: I doe not shun your friendship deere Melantius,
But this cause is weightie, giue me but an houre to thinke.
Take it, — I know this goes vnto the King,
But I am arm'd.
Exit Melantius.
Me thinkes I feele my selfe
But twenty now agen, this fighting foole
Wants policie, I shall reuenge my girle,
And make her red againe, I pray, my legges
Will last that pace that I will carrie them,
I shall want breath before I finde the King,

Actus Quartus.

Enter MELANTIVS, EVADNE, and a Lady.

God saue you.

Saue you sweete brother,

In my blunt eye me thinkes you looke Euadn [...].


Come, you would make, me blush.


I would Euadne, I shall displease my ends els.

You shall if you command me, I am bashfull,
Come sir, how doe I looke.
I would not haue your women heare me
Breake into a commendations of you, it is not seemely.

Goe waite me in the gallerie, — now speake.


Ile lock your dores first.

Exit Ladyes


I will not haue your guilded things that daunce
In visitation with their millan skins
Choake vp my businesse.

You are strangely dispos'd sir.


Good Madame, not to make you merry.


No, if you praise me twill make me sad.


Such a sad commendations I haue for you.

Brother, the Court has made you wittie,
And learne to riddle.

I praise the Court for't, has learnd you nothing.



I Euadne, thou art yong and hansome,
A Lady of a sweete complexion,
And such a flowing carriage, that it cannot
Chuse but inflame a Kingdome.

Gentle brother.

Tis yet in thy repentance, foolish woman,
To make me gentle.

How is this.

Tis base,
And I could blush at these yeares, through all
My honord scars: to come to such a parlie.

I vnderstand ye not.

You dare not foole,
They that commit thy faults flie the remembrance.
My faults sir, I would haue you know I care not
If they were writte [...] here, here in my forehead.
Thy body is to little for the story,
The lusts of which would fill another woman,
Though she had twins within her.
This is saucie,
Looke you intrude no more, theres your way.
Thou art my way, and I will tread vpon thee,
Till I finde truth out.

What truth is that you looke for?

Thy long lost honor, would the gods had set me
Rather to grapple with the plague, or stand
One of their loudest bolts, come tell me quickly,
Do [...] it without inforcement, and take heede
You swell me not aboue my temper.

How sir? where got you this report.


Where there was people in euery place.

They and the seconds of it are base people,
Beleeue them not, theile lie.
Doe not play with mine anger, doe not wretch,
I come to know that desperate foole, that drew thee
From thy faire life, be wise and lay him open.
Vnhand me and learne manners, such another
Forgetfulnesse fo [...] fits your life.
Quench me this mighty humor, and then tell me
Whose whore you are, for you are one, I know it,
Let all mine honors perish but ile finde him,
Though he lie lockt vp in thy blood, come tell me,
There is no facing it, and be not flattered,
The burnt aire when the dog raines, is not fouler
Then thy contagious name, till thy repentance,
If the gods grant thee any, purge thy sicknesse.

Begon, you are my brother thats your safty.

Ile be a woulfe first, tis to be thy brother
An infamy below the sin of coward,
I am as far from being part of thee,
As thou art from thy vertue, seeke a kindred
Mongst sensuall beasts, and make a goate thy father,
A goate is cooler, will you tell me yet.
If you stay here and raile thus, I shall tell you,
Ile ha you whipt, get you to your command,
And there preach to your Centinels,
And tell thē what a braue man you are, I shal laugh at you.
Y'are growne a glorious whore, where bee your
Fighters, what mortall foole durst raise thee to this daring,
And I aliue, by my iust sword, [...]'ad Safer
Bestride a billow when the angry North
Plowes vp the sea, or made heauens fire his foe,
Worke me no hier, will you discouery yet.

The fellowes mad, sleepe and speake sence.


Force my swolne heart no further, I would saue thee, your great maintaine [...]s are not here, they dare not, would they were al, and armed, I would speake loud, heres one should thunder to'em, will you tell me.


Let me consider.

Doe, whose child thou wert,
Whose honor thou hast murdered, whose graue opened,
And so pul'd on the god [...], that in their iustice
They must restore him flesh agen and life,
And raise his drie bones to reuenge this scandall.
The gods are not of my minde, they had better
Let'em lie sweete still in the earth, theile stinke here.
Doe you raise mirth out of my easinesse,
Forsake me then all weaknesses of nature,
That make men women, speake you whore, speake truth,
Or by the deare soule of thy sleeping father,
This sword shall be thy louer, tell or ile kill thee,
And when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserue it.

You will not murther me.

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


By thy foule selfe, no humaine help shall help thee,
If thou criest, when I haue kild thee, as I haue
Vow'd to doe, if thou confesse not, naked as thou hast left
Thine honor, will I leaue thee,
[Page]That on thy branded flesh the world may reade
Thy blacke shame and my iustice, wilt thou bend yet?



Vp and beginne your storie.


Oh I am miserable.


Tis true, thou art, speake truth still.


I haue offended, noble Sir forgiue me.


With what secure slaue?

Doe not aske me Sir,
Mine owne remembrance is a miserie
Too mightie for me.

Doe not fall backe agen [...] my sword's vnsheathed yet.


What shall I doe?


Be true, and make your fault lesse.


I dare not tell.


Tell, or ile be this day a killing thee.


Will you forgiue me then?


Stay I must aske mine honour first, I haue too much foolish nature in me, speake.


Is there no more here?

None but a fearfull conscience, that's too many.
Who ist?

The King.

My worthy fathers and my seruices
Are liberally rewarded, King I thanke thee:
For all my dangers and my wounds thou hast paid me
In my owne metall, these are souldiers thankes.
How long haue you liued thus Euadne?

Too long, too late I finde it.


Can you be very sorry?


Would I were halfe as blamelesse.


Woman thou wilt not to thy trade againe.


First to my graue.

Would gods thou hadst beene so blest.
Dost thou not hate this King now? prethee hate him.
Has sunke thy faire soule, I command thee curse him,
Curse till the gods heare and deliuer him
[Page]To thy iust wishes, yet I feare Euadne
You had rather play your game out.
No I feele
Too many sad confusions here to let in
Any loose flame hereafter.
Dost thou not feele amongst al those one braue anger
That breakes out nobly, and directs thin [...] arme
To kill this base King?

All the gods forbid it.


No al the gods require it, they are dishonored in him.


Tis too fearfull.

Y'are valiant in his bed, and bold enough
To be a stale whore, and haue your Madams name,
Discourse for groomes and pages, and hereafter
When his coole Maiestie hath laid you by
To be at pension with some needie Sir
For meat and courser cloathes, thus farre you had no feare.
Come you shall kill him.

Good Sir.

And twere to kisse him dead, thoudst smother him.
Be wise and kill him, canst thou liue and know
What noble minds shall make thee see thy selfe,
Found out with euery finger, made the shame
Of all successions, and in this thy ruine
Thy brother and thy noble husband broken?
Thou shalt not liue thus, kneele and sweare to helpe me
When I shall call thee to it, or by all
Holy in heauen and earth thou shalt not liue
To breathe a foule houre longer, not a thought.
Come tis a righteous oath, giue me thy hand,
And both to heauen held vp, sweare by that wealth
This lustfull theefe stole from thee, when I say it,
To let his foule soule out.
Here I sweare it,
And all you spirits of abused Ladies,
Helpe me in this performance.
Enough, this must be knowne to none
[Page]But you and I Euadne, not to your Lord,
Though he be wise and noble, and a fellow
Dare step as farre into a worthy action,
As the most daring, I as farre as iustice.
Aske me not why. Farewell.
Exit Mel.
Would I could say so to my blacke disgrace,
Gods where haue I beene all this time; how friended,
That I should lose my selfe thus desperately,
And none for pit [...]ie shew me how I wandred.
There is not in the compasse of the light
A more vnhappy creature, sure I am monstrous,
For I haue done those follies those mad mischiefes
Would dare a woman. O my loaden soule,
Be not so cruell to me, choake not vp
Enter Amintor.
The way to my repentance. O my Lord.

How now?


My much abused Lord.


This cannot be.

I doe not kneele to liue, I dare not hope it,
The wrongs I did are greater, looke vpon me
Though I appeare with all my faults.
Stand vp.
This is a new way to beget more sorrowes,
Heauen knowes I haue too many, doe not mocke me,
Though I am tame and bred vp with my wrongs [...]
Which are my foster-brothers, I may leape
Like a hand-wolfe into my naturall wildnesse,
And doe an outrage, prethee doe not mocke me.
My whole life is so leaprous it infects
All my repentance, I would buy your pardon [...]
Though at the highest set, euen with my life,
That sleight contrition, that; no sacrifice
For what I haue committed.
Amint [...]
Sure I dazle.
There cannot be A faith in that foule woman
That knowe [...] no God more mighty then her mischiefes,
Thou doest still worse, s [...]i [...]l number on thy faults,
[Page]To presse my poore heart thus. Can I beleeue
Theres any seed of vertue in that woman
Left to shoot vp, that dares goe in sinne
Knowne and so knowne as thine is, O Euadne,
Would there were any safetie in thy sex,
That I might put a thousand sorrowes off,
And credit thy repentance, but I must not,
Thou hast brought me to that dull calamitie,
To that strange misbeleefe of all the world,
And all things that are in it, that I feare
I shall fall like a tree, and finde my graue,
Only remembring that I grieue.
My Lord,
Giue me your griefes, you are an innocent,
A soule as white as heauen, let not my sinnes
Perish your noble youth, I doe not fall here
To shadow by dissembling with my teares
As all say women can, or to make lesse
What my hot will hath done, which heauen and you
Knowes to be tougher then the hand of time
Shall cut from mans remembrance, no I doe not,
I doe appeare the same, the same Euadne,
Drest in the shames I liu'd in, the same monster.
But these are names of honour to what I am,
I doe present my selfe the foulest creature,
Most poisonous, dangerous, and despisde of men
Lerna ere bred or Nilus, I am hell,
Till you my deare Lord shoot your light into me,
The beames of your forgiuenesse, I am soule sicke,
And wither with the feare of one condemnd,
Till I haue got your pardon.
Rise Euadne.
Those heauenly powers that put this good into thee
Grant a continuance of it, I forgiue thee
Make thyselfe worthy of it, and take heed
Take heed Euadne this be serious
Mocke not the powers aboue that can, and dare
[Page]Giue thee a great example of their iustice
To all insuing e [...]es, if thou plai'st
With thy repentance, the best sacrifice.
I haue done nothing good to get beleife,
My life hath beene so faithlesse, all the Creatures
Made for heauens honors haue their ends, and good ones
Al but the cousening Crocodiles false women.
They raigne here like those plagues, those killing soares
Men pray against, and when they die; like tales
Ill told, and vnbeleiu'd they passe away,
And go to dust forgotten: But my Lord
Those short daies I shall number to my rest,
(As many must not see me,) shall though too late,
Though in my euening, yet perceiue a will
Since I can doe no good because a woman,
Reach constantly at something that is neere it,
I will redeeme one minute of my age,
Or like another Niobe ile weep [...]
Till I am water.
I am dissolued.
My frozen soule melts, may each sin thou hast,
Finde a new mercy, rise, I am at peace:
Hadst thou beene thus, thus excellently good
Before that deuill King tempted thy frailty
Sure thou hadst made a Star, giue me thy hand
From this time I will know thee, and as far
As honour giues me leaue, be thy Amintor,
When we meete next I will salute thee fairely,
And pray the gods to giue thee happy daies,
My Charity shall go along with thee
Though my embraces must be far from thee,
I should ha'kild thee, but this sweete repentance
Lockes vp my vengeance, for which, thus I kisse thee
The last kisse we must take, and would to heauen
The holy Preist that gaue our hands together,
Had giuen vs equall virtues, go Euadne
The gods thus part our bodies, haue a care
[Page]My honour falles no further, I am well then.
All the deare ioyes here, and aboue hereafter
Crowne thy faire soule, thus I take leaue my Lord,
And neuer shall you see the foule Euadne
Till she haue tried all honoured meanes that may
Set her in rest, and wash her slaines away.
Hoboies play within.
Banquet. Enter King, Calianax.
I cannot tell how I should credit this
From you that are his enemie.
I am sure he said it to me, and ile iustifie it
What way he dares oppose, but with my sword.
But did he breake without all circumstance
To you his Foe, that he would haue the fort
To kill me, and then scape.

If he deny it, ile make him blush.


It sounds incredibly.


I so does euery thing I say of late.


Not so Callian [...]x.

Yes I should sit
Mute whilst a Rogue with strong armes cuts your throate.
Well I will trie him, and if this be true
Ile pawne my life ile finde it, ift be false
And that you cloath your hate in such a lie
You shall hereafter doate, in your owne house,
Not in the Court.
Why if it be a lie
Mine eares are false, for I besworne I heard it,
Old men are good for nothing, you were best
Put me to dea [...]h for hearing, and free him
For meaning it, you would a trusted me
Once, but the time is altered.

And will still where I may doe with iustice to the world, you haue no witnesse.


Yes my selfe.


No more I meane there were that heard it.

How no more? would you haue more? why am not
[Page]I enough to hang a thousand Rogues.

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


I may, tis like I will doe so, there are a hundred will sweare it for a need too, if I say it.


Such witnesses we need not.


And tis hard if my word cannot hang a boisterous knaue.


Enough, where's Strato.

Enter Strat.
Why wheres all the Company? call Amintor in
Euadne, wheres my brother, and Melantius,
Bid him come too, and Diphilus, call all
Exit Strat.
That are without there, if he should desire
The combat of you, tis not in the power
Of all our lawes to hinder it, vnlesse
We meane to quit 'em.
Why if you doe thinke
Tis fit an old man, and a Counsellor
To fight for what he saies, then you may grant it.
Enter Amintor, Euadne, Melant. Diph. Lysip. Cle. Stra.
Come sirs, Amintor thou art yet a Bridegroome,
And I will vse thee so, thou shalt sit downe,
Euadne sit, and you Amint [...]r too
This banquet is for you sir, who has brought
A merry tale about him, to raise laughter
Amongst our wine, why Strato where art thou
Thou wilt chopt out with them vnseasonably
When I desire 'em not.

Tis my ill lucke Sir, so to spend them then.


Reach me a boule of wine, Melantius thou art sad.

I should be Sir the merriest here,
But I ha nere a story of mine owne
worth telling at this time.
Giue me the wine.
Melantius I am now considering
How easie twere for any man we trust
To poyson one of vs in such a boule.

I thinke it were not ha [...]d Sir, for a Knaue.


Such as you are.

I faith twere easie, it becomes vs well
To get plaine dealing men about our selues,
Such as you all are here, Amintor to thee
And to thy faire Euadne.

Haue you thought of this Callianax.


Yes marry haue I.


And whats your resolution?


Ye shall haue it soundly I warrant you.


Reach to Amintor, Strato.

Here my loue,
This wine will doe thee wrong, for it will set
Blushes vpon thy cheekes, and till thou dost
A fault twere pitty.
Yet I wonder much
Of the strange desperation of these men
That dare attempt such acts here in our state,
He could not scape that did it.

Were he knowne, vnpossible.


It would be knowne Melantius.

It ought to be, if he got then away
He must weare all our liues vpon his sword,
He need not flie the Iland, he must leaue
No one aliue.
No I should thinke no man
Could kill me and scape cleare but that old man.

But I? heauen blesse me, I, should I my liege?

I doe not thinke thou wouldst but yet thou mightst,
For thou hast in thy hands the meanes to scape,
By keeping of the fort, he has Melantius,
And he has kept it well.
From Cobwebs Sir,
Tis cleane swept, I can finde no other Art
In keeping of it now, twas nere beseidge
Since he commaunded.
I shall be sure of your good word,
But I haue kept it safe from such as you.
Keepe your ill temper in,
I speake no malice, had my brother kept it
I should ha sed as much.
You are not merry, brother drinke wine,
Sit you all still, Callianax
I cannot trust thus, I haue throwne out words,
That would haue fetcht warme bloud vpon the cheekes
Of guilty men, and he is neuer mou'd,
He knowes no such thing.

Impudence may scape, when feeble virtue is accus [...]d.

A must if he were guilty feele an alteration
At this our whisper, whilst we point at him,
You see he does not.
Let him hang himselfe,
What care I what he does, this he did say [...]
Melant. you can easily conceiue
What I haue meant, for men that are in faults
Can subtly apprehend when others aime
At what they doe amisse, but I forgiue
Freely before this man, heauen doe so too;
I will not touch thee so much as with shame
Of telling it, let it be so no more.

Why this is very fine.

I cannot tell
What tis you meane, but I am apt enough
Rudely to thrust into ignorant fault,
But let me know it, happily tis naught
But misconstruction, and where I am cleare
I will not take forgiuenesse of the gods,
Much lesse of you.

Nay if you stand so stiffe, I shall call back my mercy.

I want smoothnes
To thanke a man for pardoning of a crime
I neuer knew.

Not to instruct your knowledge, but to show you my eares are euery where, you meant to kill me, and get the fort to scape.

Pardon me Sir, my bluntnesse will be pardoned, you preserue
A race of idle people here about you,
Facers, and talkers to defame the world
Of those that doe things worthy, the man that vttered this
Had perisht without food, bee't who it will,
But for this arme that fenst him from the Foe.
And if I thought you gaue a faith to this,
The plainenes [...]e of my nature would speake more,
Giue me a pardon, for you ought to doo't
To kill him that spake this.
I that will be the end of all,
Then I am fairely paide for all my care and seruice.
That old man, who calls my enemy, and of whom I
(Though I will neuer match my hate so low,)
Haue no good thought, would yet I thinke excuse me,
And sweare he thought me wrong'd in this.
Who I, thou shamelesse Fellow that hast spoke to me
Of it thy selfe.

O then it came from him.


From me, who should it come from but from me?

Nay I beleeue your malice is enough,
But I ha lost my anger, Sir I hope
You are well satisfied.
Licip: cheare Amintor and his Lady, theres no sound
Comes from you, I will come and doo't my selfe.

You haue done all ready Sir for me I thanke you.

Melantius I doe credit this from him,
How sleight so ere you mak't.

Tis strange you should.

Tis strang a should beleeue an old mans word,
That neuer lied ins life.
I talke not to thee.
Shall the wilde word [...] of this distempered man;
Frantique with age and sorrow make a breach
Betwixt your Maiestie and me, twas wrong
To harken to him, but to credit him
[Page]As much, at least, as I haue power to beare.
But pardon me, whilst I speake onely truth,
I may commend my selfe — I haue bestowd
My carelesse bloud with you, and should be loath
To thinke a [...] action that would make me loose
That, and my thankes too: when I was a boy
I thrust my selfe into my Countries cause,
And did a deed, that pluckt fiue yeares from time
And stil'd me man then, and for you my king
Your Subiects all haue fed by vertue of my arme,
And you your selfe haue liu'd at home in ease,
So terrible I grew that without swords
My name hath fetcht you conquest, and my heart
And limmes are still the same, my will as great
To doe you seruice: let me not be paid
With such a strange distrust.
Melantius I held it great iniustice to beleeue
Thine enemie, and did, if I did,
I doe not, let that satisfie, what strooke
With sadnesse all [...] more wine.

A few fine words haue ouerthrowne my truth, a th'art a Villaine.

Why, thou wert better let me haue the fort,
Dotard, I wil disgrace thee thus for euer,
There shall no credit lie vpon thy words,
Thinke better and deliuer it.
My leige, hees at me now agen to doe it, speake
Denie it if thou canst, examine him
Whilst he is hot, for if hee coole agen,
He will forsweare it.

This is lunacie I hope, Melantius.

He hath lost himselfe
Much since his daughter mist the happinesse
My sister gaind, and though he call me Foe,
I pittie him.

A pittie a pox vpon you.


Marke his disordered words, and at the Maske

Diagoras knowes he rag'd, and raild at me,
And cald a Ladie Whore so innocent
She vnderstood him not, but it becomes
Both you and me to forgiue distraction,
Pardon him as I doe.

Ile not speake for thee, for all thy cunning, if you will be safe chop off his head, for there was neuer knowne so impudent a Rascall.


Some that loue him get him to bed, why? pittie should not let age make it selfe contemptible, we must be all old, haue him away.


Callianax the King beleeues you, come, you shall go home, and rest, you ha done well, youle giue it vp When I haue vsd you thus a month, I hope.

Now, now, tis plaine Sir, he does moue me still,
He saies he knowes ile giue him vp the fort
When he has vsd me thus a month, I am mad
Am I not still?

Ha ha ha.

I shall be mad indeed if you doe thus,
Why should you tru [...]t a sturdie fellow there,
(That has no virtue in him, alls in his sword)
before me; doe but take his weapons from him
And hees an Asse, and I am a very foole
Both with him, and without him, as you vse me.

Ha ha ha.

Too well, Cal: but if you vse
This once agen I shall intreat some other
To see your offices be well dischargd.
Be merry Gentlemen it growes somewhat late,
Amintor thou wouldst be a bed agen.

Yes Sir.

And you Euadne let me take thee in my arme, Me­lantius thou art as thou deseruest to be, my freind,
Still, and for euer good Call:
Sleepe soundly, it will bring thee to thy selfe.
Exeunt omnes. Manent Mel. & Cal.
Sleepe soundly! I sleepe soundly now I hope,
I could not be thus else. How dar'st thou stay
Alone with me, knowing how thou hast vsed me?
You cannot blast me with your tongue, and thats the strongest
Part you haue about ye.
Dost not thou looke for some great punishment for this? I feele
My selfe beginne to forget all my hate,
And tak't vnkindly that mine enemy
Should vse me so extremely scuruily.
I shall meet too, if you begin to take
Vnkindnesse, I neuer meant you hurt.
Thoult anger me agen; thou wretched roague,
Meant me no wrong! disgrace me with the King,
Lose all my offices, this is no hurt
Is it, I prethee what dost thou call hurt?
To poison men because they loue me not,
To call the credit of mens wiues in question,
To murder children, betwixt me and Land,
This I call hurt.
All this thou think st is sport,
For mine is worse, but vse thy will with me,
For betwixt griefe and anger I could crie.

Be wise then and be safe, thou maist reuenge.


I oth' the King, I would reuenge of thee.


That you must plot your selfe.


I am a [...]ine plotter.

The short is, I will hold thee with the King
In this perplexitie till peeuishnesse
And his disgrace haue laid thee in thy graue.
But if thou wilt deliuer vp the fort,
Ile take thy trembling body in my armes,
And beare thee ouer dangers, thou shalt hold
Thy wonted state.

If I should tell the King, canst thou deni't agen?


Trie and beleeue.

Nay then thou canst bring any thing about,
Melantius, thou shalt haue the fort.
Why well, here let our hate be buried, and
This hand shall right vs both, giue me thy aged brest
To compasse.
Nay I doe not loue thee yet,
I cannot well endure to looke on thee,
And if I thought it were a curtesie,
Thou shouldst not haue it, but I am disgrac't,
My offices are to be tane away,
And if I did but hold this fort a day,
I doe beleeue the King would take it from me,
And giue it thee, things are so strangely carried,
Nere thanke me fort, but yet the King shall know
There was some such thing int I told him of,
And that I was an honest man.
Heele buy that knowledge very deerely: Diph.
What newes with thee?
Ent. Diphilus.
This were a night indeed to doe it in,
The King hath sent for her.
She shall performe it then, goe Diph.
And take from this good man my worthy friend
The fort, heele giue it thee.

Ha you got that?

Art thou of the same breed? canst thou denie
This to the King too?

With a confidence as great as his.


Faith like enough.


Away and vse him kindly.


Touch not me, I hate the whole straine, if thou follow me a great way off, Ile giue thee vp the fort, and hang your selues.


Be gone.


Hees finely wrought.

Exeunt Call. Diph.
This is a night spight of Astronomers
To doe the deed in, I will wash the staine
That rests vpon our house, off with his bloud.
Ent. Amint.
Melantius now assist me if thou beest
That which thou saist, assist me, I haue lost
All my distempers, and haue found a rage
So pleasing, helpe me.
Who can see him thus,
And not sweare vengeance? whats the matter friend?
Out with thy sword, and hand in hand with me
Rush to the chamber of this hated King,
And sinke him with the weight of all his sins
To hell for euer.
Twere a rash attempt,
Not to be done with safetie, let your reason
Plot your reuenge, and not your passion.
If thou refusest me in these extremes,
Thou art no friend, he sent for her to me,
By heauen to me, my selfe, and I must tell ye
I loue her as a stranger, there is worth
In that vild woman, wor [...]hy things Melantius,
And she repents, Ile doo't my selfe alone,
Though I be slaine, farewell.
Heele ouerthrow my whole designe with madne [...], Amintor.
Thinke what thou doest, I dare as much as valour,
But tis the King, the King, the King, Amintor,
With whom thou fightest, I know hees honest.
And this will worke with him.
I cannot tell
What thou hast said, but thou hast charmd my sword
Out of my hand, and left me shaking here

I will take it vp for thee.

What a wilde beast is vncollected man!
The thing that we call honour beares vs all
Headlong vnto sinne, and yet it selfe is nothing.

Alas how variable are thy thoughts?

Iust like my fortunes, I was run to that,
I purposd to haue [...]hid thee for some plot
[Page]I did distrust thou hadst against the King
By that old fellowes carriage, but take heed,
Theres not the least limbe growing to a King
But carries thunder in't.

I haue none against him.


Why come then, and still remember wee may not thinke reuenge.


I will remember.


Actus 5.

Enter Euadne and a Gentleman.

Sir is the King abed?


Madam an houre agoe.

Giue me the key then, and Sir let none be neere.
Tis the Kings pleasure.
I vnderstand you Madam, would twere mine,
I must not wish good rest vnto your Ladiship.

You talke, you talke.


Tis all I dare doe Madam, but the King will wake, and then me thinkes.


Sauing your imagination, pray good night Sir.


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

The night growes horrible, and all about me
Like my blacke purpose, O the conscience
K. a bed.
Of a lost virtue, whither wilt thou pull me?
To what things dismall, as the depth of hell,
Wilt thou prouoke me? Let no woman dare
From this houre be disloyall, if her heart
Be flesh; if she haue bloud and can feare, tis a madnesse
Aboue that desperate mans that left his peace,
And went to sea to fight, tis so many sins,
[Page]An age cannot repent 'em, and so great,
The gods want mercy for, yet I must through 'em,
I haue begun a slaughter on my honour,
And I must end it there, a sleepes, oh God,
Why giue you peace to this vntemperate beast,
That has so farre transgrest you? I must kill him,
And I will doo't brauely: the meere ioy
Confirmes me that I merit, yet I must not
Thus tamely doe it as he sleepes, that were
To rake him to another world, my vengeance
Shall seaze him waking, and then [...]ay before him
The number of his wrongs and punishments.
Ile shape his sins like furies till I waken
His euill Angell, his sicke conscience,
And then I strike him dead. King by your leaue,
Ties his armes to the bed.
I dare not trust your strength, your Grace and I
M [...]st grapple vpon euen tearmes no more.
So, if he raile me not from my resolution,
As I beleeue I shall not, I shall fit him.
My Lord the King, my Lord, a sleepes
As if he meant to wake no more, my Lord,
Is he not dead already? Sir, my Lord.

Whose that?


O you sleepe soundly Sir.

My deare Euadne,
I haue beene dreaming of thee, come to bed.

I am come at length Sir, but how welcome?

What prettie new deuice is this Euadne?
What, doe you tie me to you by my loue?
This is a queint one: come my deare and kisse me,
Ile be thy Mars, to bed my Queene of loue,
Let vs be caught together, that the gods may looke,
And enuie our embraces.
Stay Sir, stay,
You are too hot, and I haue brought you physicke,
To temper your high veines.
Prethee to bed then, let me take it warme,
[Page]Here thou shalt know the state of my body better.
I know you haue a surfeited foule body,
And you must bleed.


I you shall bleed, lie still, and if the deuill
Your lust will giue you leaue, repent, this steele
Comes to redeeme the honour that you stole
King, my faire name, which nothing but thy death
Can answer to the world.

How Euadne?

I am not she, nor beare I in this breast
So much cold spirit to be cald a woman,
I am a Tiger, I am any thing
That knowes not pittie, stirre not, if thou doest,
Ile take thee vnprepar'd, thy feares vpon thee,
That make thy sins looke double, and so s [...]nd thee
(By my reuenge I will) to looke those torments
Prepar'd for such blacke soules.
Thou doest not meane this, tis impossible,
Thou art too sweet and gentle.
No I am not,
I am as foule as thou art, and can number
As many such hels here: I was once faire [...]
Once I was louely, not a blowing rose
More chastly sweet, till thou, thou, thou foule canker,
(Stirre not) didst poison me, I was a world of vertue,
Till your curst Court and you (hell blesse you for' [...])
With your temptatio [...]s on temptations
Made me giue vp mine honour, for which (King)
I am come to kill thee.



I am.

Thou art not.
I prethee speake not these things, thou art gentle,
And w [...]rt not meant thus rugged.
Peace and heare me.
Stirre nothing but your tongue, and that for mercy,
[Page]To those aboue vs, by whose lights I vow,
Those blessed fires, that shot to see our sinne,
If thy hot soule had substance with thy bloud,
I would kill that too, which being past my steele,
My tongue shall reach: Thou art a shamelesse villaine,
A thing out of the ouercharge of nature,
Sent like a thicke cloud to disperse a plague
Vpon weake catching women, such a tyrant,
That for his lust would sell away his subiects,
I all his heauen hereafter.
Heare Euadne,
Thou soule of sweetnesse, heare, I am thy King.
Thou art my shame, lie still, theres none about you
Within your cries, all promises of safetie
Are but deluding dreames, thus, thus thou foule man,
Thus I begin my vengeance.
Hold Euadne,
I doe command thee, hold.
I doe not meane Sir
To part so fairely with you, we must change
More of these loue-trickes yet.
What bloudie villanie
Prouok't thee to this murther?

Thou, thou monster.

Stabs him.


Thou keptst me braue at Court, and whorde me, King,
Then married me to a young noble Gentleman,
And whorde me still.

Euadne, pittie me.

Hell take me then, this for my Lord Amintor,
This for my noble brother, and this stroke
For the most wrongd of women.
Kils him.

Oh I die.


Die all our faults together, I forgiue thee.

Enter two of the Bed-chamber.

Come now shees gone, lets enter, the King expects it, and will be angry.


Tis a fine wench, weele haue a snap at her one of these nights as she goes from him.


Content: how quickly he had done with her, I see Kings can doe no more that way then other mortall people.


How fast he is! I cannot heare him breathe.


Either the tapers giue a feeble light, or he lookes very pale.

Lets looke: Alas, hees stiffe, wounded and dead.

Run forth and call.

Exit Gent.

Treason, treason.

This will be laid on vs: who can beleeue
A woman could doe this?
Enter Cleon and Lysippus.

How now? wheres the traitor?

Fled, fled away, but there her wofull act
Lies still.

Her act! a woman!


Wheres the body?



Farewell thou worthy man, there were two bonds
That tied our loues, a brother and a King,
The least of which might fetch a floud of teares:
But such the miserie of greatnesse is,
They haue no time to mourne, then pardon me.
Sirs, which way went she?
Enter Strato.
Neuer follow her,
For she alas was but the instrument.
Newes is now brought in that Melantius
Has got the Fort, and stands vpon the wall,
And with a loud voice cals to those few that passe
At this dead time of night, deliuering
The innocence of this act.

Gentlemen [...] I am your King.


We doe acknowledge it.


I would I were not: follow all, for this must haue a sudden stop.

Ent. Melant. Diph. Calli [...] on the walls.
If the dull people can beleeue I am arm'd,
Be constant Diph. now we haue time,
Either to bring our banisht honours home,
Or to create new ones in our ends.
I feare not,
My spirit lies not that way. Courage Callianax.

Would I had any, you should quickly know it.


Speake to the people, thou art eloquent.

Tis a fine eloquence to come to the gallowes,
You were borne to be my end, the deuill take you,
Now must I hang for company, tis strange
I should be old, and neither wise, nor valiant.
Enter Lysip. Diag. Cleon. Strato. Guard.
See where he stands as boldly confident,
As if he had his full command about him.
He lookes as if he had the better cause, Sir,
Vnder your gracious pardon let me speake it,
Though he be mightie spirited and forward
To all great things, to all things of that danger
Wo [...]se men shake at the telling of, yet certaine
I doe beleeue him noble, and this action
Rather puld on then sought, his minde was euer
As worthy as his hand.
Tis my feare too,
Heauen forgiue all: summon him Lord Cleon.

Ho from the walls there.

Worthy Cleon welcome,
We could a wisht you here Lord, you are honest.

Well thou art as flattering a knaue, though I dare not tell thee so.





I am sorrie that we meet thus, our old loue
Neuer requir'd such distance, pray to heauen
[Page]You haue not left your selfe, and sought this safetie
More out of feare then honour, you haue lost
A noble master, which your faith, Melantius,
I'm sure might haue preserued.
Royall young man, those teares looke louely on thee,
Had they beene shed for a deseruing one,
They had beene lasting monuments: Thy brother,
Whilst he was good, I cald him King, and seru'd him,
With that strong faith, that most vnwearied valour,
Puld people from the farthest sunne to seeke him,
And begge 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 neuer-cur'd dishonour of my sister,
Base staine of whore, and which is worse,
The ioy to make it still so, like my selfe)
Thus I haue flung him off with my allegeance,
And stand here mine owne iustice for reuenge,
What I haue suffred in him, and this old man
Wrongd almost to lunacie.
Who I? You wud draw me in, I haue had no wrong,
I doe disclaime ye all.
The short is this,
Tis no ambition to lift vp my selfe
Vrgeth me thus, I doe desire againe
To be a subiect, so I may be free;
If not, I know my strength, and will vnbuild
This goodly towne, be speedie, and be wise, in a replie.
Be sudden Sir to tie
All vp againe, what's done is past recall,
And past you to reuenge, and there are thousands
That wait for such a troubled houre as this.
Throw him the blanke.
Melantius, write in that thy choice,
My seale is at it.
It was our honours drew vs to this act,
[Page]No gaine, and we will only worke our pardons.

Put my name in too.


You disclaim'd vs all but now Callianax.

Thats all one,
Ile not be hangd hereafter by a tricke,
Ile haue it in.
You shall, you shall:
Come to the backe gate, and weele call the King,
An [...] giue you vp the Fort.

Away, away.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter A [...]pat. in mans apparell.
This is my fatall houre, heauen may forgiue
My rash attempt that causelesly hath laid
Griefes on me that will neuer let me rest,
And put a womans heart into my breast,
It is more honour for you that I doe,
For she that can endure the miserie
That I haue on me, and be patient too,
May liue and laugh at all that you can doe.
God saue you Sir.
Enter Seruant.

And you Sir, whats your businesse?

With you Sir now, to doe me the faire office
To helpe me to your Lord.

What would you serue him?

Ile doe him any seruice, but to haste,
For my affaires are earnest, I desire
To speake with him.

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


It shall become you though to tell your Lord.


S [...]r he will speake with no body, but in particular, I haue in charge about no waightie matters.


This is most strange: art thou gold proofe? theres for thee [...] helpe me to him.


Pray be not angry Sir, Ile doe my best.

How stubbornly this fellow answer'd me!
There is a vild dishonest tricke in man,
[Page]More then in women: all the men I meet
Appeare thus to me, are harsh and rude,
And haue a subtletie in euery thing,
Which loue could neuer know; but we fond women
Harbour the easiest and the smoothest thoughts,
And thinke all shall goe so, it is vniust
That men and women should be matcht together.

Where is he?

Enter Amintor and his man.

There my Lord.


What would you Sir?

Please it your Lordship to command your man
Out of the roome, I shall deliuer things
Worthy your hearing.

Leaue vs.


O that that shape should burie falshood in it.


Now your will Sir.

When you know me, my Lord, you needs must ghesse
My businesse, and I am not hard to know.
For till the chance of warre markt 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.
The wrong'd A [...]patia, would thou wert so too
Vnto the wrong'd Amintor, let me kisse
That hand of thine in honour that I beare
Vnto the wrong'd Aspatia, here I stand
That did it, would he could not, gentle youth
Leaue me, for there is something in thy lookes
That cals my sins in a most odious forme
Into my minde, and I haue griefe enough
Without thy helpe.
I would I could with credit.
Since I was twelue yeeres old I had not seene
My sister till this houre, I now arriu'd,
She sent for me to see her marriage,
A wofull one, but they that are aboue
[Page]Haue ends in euery thing, she vsd few words,
But yet enough to make me vnderstand
The basenesse of the iniuries you did her,
That little trayning I haue had, is war,
I may behaue my selfe rudely in peace,
I would not though, I shall not need to tell you
I am but young, and would be loth to loose
Honour that is not easily gaind againe,
Fairely I meane to deale, the age is strict
For single combats, and we shall be stopt
If it be publisht, if you like your sword
Vse it, if mine appeare a better to you,
Change, for the ground is this, and this the time
To end our difference.
Charitable youth,
If thou beest such, thinke not I will maintaine
So strange a wrong, and for thy sisters sake,
Know, that I could not thinke that desperate thing
I durst not doe, yet to inioy this world
I would not see her, for beholding thee,
I am I know not what, if I haue ought
That may content thee, take it, and be gone,
For death is not so terrible as thou,
Thine eies shoote guilt into me.
Thus she swore,
Thou wouldst behaue thy selfe and giue me words
That would fetch teares into my eies, and so
Thou doest indeed, but yet she bad me watch,
Least I were cossend, and be sure to fight
Ere I returnd.
That must not be with me,
For her ile die directly, but against her
Will neuer hazard it.

You must be vrgd, I doe not deale vnciuilly with those that dare to fight, but such a one as you

M [...]st be vsd thus.

She strikes him.
I prethee youth take heed,
[Page]Thy sister is a thing to me so much
Aboue mine honour, that I can indure
All this, good gods — a blow I can indure,
But stay not, least thou draw a timelesse death
Vpon thy selfe.
Thou art some prating Fellow,
One that has studied out a tricke to talke
And moue soft harted people; to be kickt
She kickes him aside.
Thus to be kickt — why should he be so slow
In giuing me my death.
A man can beare
No more and keepe his flesh, forgiue me then,
I would indure yet if I could, now show
The spirit thou pretendest, and vnderstand
Thou hast no houre to liue, what dost thou meane,
they figh [...]
Thou ca [...]st not fight, the blowes thou makst at me
Are quite besides, and those I offer at thee
Thou spreadst thine armes, and takst vpon thine brest
Alas defencele [...]e.
I haue got enough,
And my desire, there is no place so fit
For me to die as here.
Ent. Euadne.
Amintor I am loaden with euents
That flie to make thee happy, I haue ioyes
That in a moment can call backe thy wrongs
And settle thee in thy free state againe,
It is Euadne still that followes thee
But not her mischiefes.
Thou canst not foole me to beleeue agen,
But thou hast bookes and things so full of newes
That I am stald.
Noble Amint [...]r put off thy amaze,
Let thine eies loose, and speake, am I not faire,
Lookes not Euad: beatious with these rites now
Were those houres halfe so louely in thine eyes
When our hands met before the holy man,
I was too foule within, to looke faire then [...]
[Page]Since I knew ill I was not free till now.
There is presage of some important thing
About thee which it seemes thy tongue hath lost,
Thy hands are bloudy, and thou hast a knife.
In this consists thy happinesse and mine,
Ioy to Amintor for the King is dead.
Those haue most power to hurt vs, that we loue
We lay our sleeping liues within their armes,
Why thou hast raisd vp mischiefe to his height
And found one, to out-name thy other faults,
Thou hast no intermission of thy sinnes,
But all thy life is a continued ill,
Blacke is thy coulor now, disease thy nature
Ioy to Amintor, thou hast toucht a life
The very name of which had power to chaine
Vp all my rage, and tame my wildest wrongs.
Tis done, and since I could not finde away
To meete thy loue so cleare, as through his life
I cannot now repent it.
Cudst thou procure the gods to speake to me,
To bid me loue this woman, and forgiue,
I thinke I should fall out with them, behold
Here lies a youth whose wounds bleed in my breast,
Sent by his violent Fate to fetch his death
From my slow hand, this keepes night here
And throwes an vnknowne Wildernesse about me.

Oh oh oh.


No more persue me not.

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

Forbeare be wise, and let my rage go this way.


Tis you that I would stay, not it.


Take heed it will returne with me.

If it must be I shall not feare to meete it,
Take me home.

Thou Monster of crueltie, forbeare.

For heauens sake looke more calme,
[Page]Thine eies are crueller, then thou canst make thy sword.
Away, away thy knees are more to me then vio­lence,
I am worse then sicke to see knees follow me,
For that I must not grant, for Gods sake stand,

Receiue me then.

I dare not stay, thy language,
In midst of all my anger, and my griefe,
Thou doest awake some thing that troubles me,
And saies I lou'd thee once, I dare not stay,
There is no end of womans reasoning.
leaues her.
Amintor thou shalt loue me now againe,
Go I am calme, farwell, And peace for euer.
Euadne whom thou hatst will die for thee.
Kills herselfe.
I haue a little humane nature yet
Thats lest for thee, that bids me stay thy hand.
Thy hand was welcome but it came too late,
Oh I am lost the heauie sleepe makes hast.

Oh oh oh.

This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feele
A [...]tarke affrighted motion in my bloud,
My soule growes weary of her house, and I
All ouer am a trouble to my selfe,
There is some hidden power in these dead things
That calls myselfe vnto'em, I am cold,
Be resolute, and beare'em company,
Theres something yet which I am loath to leaue,
Theres man enough in me to meete the feares
That death can bring, and yet would it were done,
I can finde nothing in the whole discourse
Of death I durst not meete the bouldest way,
Yet still betwixt the reason and the act
The wrong I to Aspatia did stands vp,
I haue not such another fault to answer,
Though she may iustly arme her selfe with scorne
And hate of me, my soule will part lesse troubled,
When I haue paid to her in teares my sorrow,
[Page]I will not leaue this act vnsatisfied,
If all thats left in me can answer it.
Was it a dreame? There stands Amintor still,
Or I dreame still.
How doest thou? speake, receiue my loue & helpe:
Thy bloud climbes vp to his old place againe,
Theres hope of thy recouerie.

Did you not name A [...]patia?


I did.


And talkt of teares and sorrow vnto her.

Tis true, and till these happie signes in thee
Staid my course, it was thither I was going.
Thou art there already, and these wounds are her [...]:
Those threats I brought with me, sought not reuenge,
But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand.
I am Aspatia yet.

Dare my soule euer looke abroad agen?

[...]I shall sure liue Amintor, I am well,
A kinde of healthfull ioy wanders within me.
The world wants lines to excuse thy losse,
Come let me beare thee to some place of helpe.
Amintor thou must stay, I must rest here,
My strength begins to disobey my will.
How dost thou my best soule? I would faine liue,
Now if I could, wouldst thou haue loued me then?
Alas, all that I ams not worth a haire
From thee.
Giue me thine hand, mine eyes grow vp & downe,
And cannot finde thee, I am wondrous sicke.
Haue I thy hand, Amintor?

Thou greatest blessing of the world, thou hast.

I doe beleeue thee better then my sense,
Oh I must goe, farewell.
She sounds: Aspatia. Helpe, for Gods sake: water,
Such as may chaine life euer to this frame.
Aspatia, speake: what no helpe? yet I foole,
Ile chafe her temples, yet there nothing stirs.
[Page]Some hidden power tell her Amintor cals,
And let her answer me: Aspatia speake.
I haue heard, if there be any life, but bow
The body thus, and it will shew it selfe.
Oh she is gone, I will not leaue her yet.
Since out of iustice we must challenge nothing,
Ile call it mercy if youle pittie me,
You heauenly powers, and lend forth some few yeeres
The blessed soule to this faire seat againe.
No comfort comes, the gods deuie me too.
Ile bow the body once againe: Aspatia.
The soule is fled for euer, and I wrong
My selfe, so long to loose her companie.
Must I talke now? Heres to be with thee loue,
Kils himselfe.
Enter Seruant.

This is a great grace to my Lord to haue the new King come to him, I must tell him he is entring. Oh God, helpe, helpe.

Enter Lysip. Melant. Call. Diph. Strat [...].

Wheres Amintor?

O there, there.

How strange is this?


What should we doe here?

These deaths are such acquainted things with me,
That yet my heart dissolues not. May I stand
Stiffe here for euer: eyes call vp your teares,
This is Amintor: heart, he was my friend,
Melt, now it flowes, Amintor giue a word
To call me to thee.


Melantius cals his friend Amintor, oh thy armes
Are kinder to me then thy tongue,
Speake, speake.


That little word was worth all the sounds
That euer I shall heare againe.
Oh brother here lies your sister slaine,
[Page]You loose your selfe in sorrow there.
Why Dip. it is
A thing to laugh at in respect of this,
Here was my Sister, Father, Brother, Sonne,
All that I had, speake once againe
What youth lies slaine there by thee.
Tis Aspatia,
My last is said, let me giue vp my soule
Into thy bosome.

Whats that, whats that Aspatia?

I neuer did repent the greatnesse of heart till now,
It will not burst at need.

My daughter, dead here too, and you haue all fine new tric [...]es to greiue, but I nere knew any but direct crying.


I am a Pratler, but no more.


Hold Brother.


Stop him.

Fie how vnmanly was this offer in you,
Does this become our straine.
I know not what the matter is, but I am
Growne very kinde, and am friends with you all now
You haue giuen me that among you will kill me
Quickly, but Ile go home and liue as long as I can.
His spirit is but poore, that can be kept.
From dea [...]h for want of weapons,
Is not my hands a weapon sha [...]pe enough
To stop my breath, or if you tie downe those,
I vow Amintor I will neuer eate
Or drinke, or sl [...]epe, or haue to doe with that
That may prese [...]ue life, this I sweare to keepe.
Looke to him tho, and beare those bodies in
May this a faire example be [...] me.
To rule with temper, for on lu [...]f [...]ll Kings
Vnlookt for suddaine deaths from God are sent,
But curst is he that is their instrument.

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