The Maid's Tragedy by F. Beaumont and J. Fletcher - HTML preview

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Act I

 

Enter Cleon, Strato, Lysippus, Diphilus.

 

Cleon.    The rest are making ready Sir.

 

Strat.    So let them, there's time enough.

 

Diph.     You are the brother to the King, my Lord,

                 we'll take your word.

 

Lys.       Strato, thou hast some skill in Poetry, What

                thinkst thou of a Mask? will it be well?

 

Strat.     As well as Mask can be.

 

Lys.       As Mask can be?

 

Strat.     Yes, they must commend their King, and speak

                in praise of the Assembly, bless the Bride and

                Bridegroom, in person of some God; th'are tyed

                to rules of flattery.

 

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

 

Lys.       Noble Melantius!

 

                                                  [Enter Melantius.

 

                 The Land by me welcomes thy vertues home to Rhodes,

                 thou that with blood abroad buyest us our peace; the

                 breath of King is like the breath of Gods; My brother

                 wisht thee here, and thou art here; he will be too kind,

                 and weary thee with often welcomes; but the time doth

                 give thee a welcome above this or all the worlds.

 

Mel.      My Lord, my thanks; but these scratcht limbs of mine have

                 spoke my love and truth unto my friends, more than my

                 tongue ere could: my mind's the same it ever was to you;

                 where I find worth, I love the keeper, till he let it go,

                 And then I follow it.

 

Diph.     Hail worthy brother!

                 He that rejoyces not at your return

                 In safety, is mine enemy for ever.

 

Mel.      I thank thee Diphilus: but thou art faulty;

                  I sent for thee to exercise thine armes

                 With me at Patria: thou cam'st not Diphilus: 'Twas

                  ill.

 

Diph.     My noble brother, my excuse

                 Is my King's strict command, which you my Lord

                 Can witness with me.

 

Lys.       'Tis true Melantius,

                 He might not come till the solemnity

                 Of this great match were past.

 

Mel.       Yes, I have given cause to those that

                 Envy my deeds abroad, to call me gamesome;

                  I have no other business here at Rhodes.

 

Lys.        We have a Mask to night,

                  And you must tread a Soldiers measure.

 

Mel.        These soft and silken wars are not for me;

                  The Musick must be shrill, and all confus'd,

                  That stirs my blood, and then I dance with armes:

                  But is Amintor Wed?

 

Diph.       This day.

 

Mel.        All joyes upon him, for he is my friend:

                  Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend,

                  His worth is great; valiant he is, and temperate,

                  And one that never thinks his life his own,

                  If his friend need it: when he was a boy,

                  As oft as I return'd (as without boast)

                  I brought home conquest, he would gaze upon me,

                  And view me round, to find in what one limb

                  The vertue lay to do those things he heard:

                  Then would he wish to see my Sword, and feel

                  The quickness of the edge, and in his hand

                  Weigh it; he oft would make me smile at this;

                  His youth did promise much, and his ripe years

                  Will see it all perform'd.

 

                                  [Enter Aspatia, passing by.

 

Melan.   Hail Maid and Wife!

                 Thou fair Aspatia, may the holy knot

                 That thou hast tyed to day, last till the hand

                 Of age undo't; may'st thou bring a race

                 Unto Amintor that may fill the world

                 Successively with Souldiers.

 

Asp.       My hard fortunes

                 Deserve not scorn; for I was never proud

                 When they were good.

 

                                                  [Exit Aspatia.

 

Mel.       How's this?

 

Lys.       You are mistaken, for she is not married.

 

Mel.       You said Amintor was.

 

Diph.      'Tis true; but

 

Mel.       Pardon me, I did receive

                  Letters at Patria, from my Amintor,

                  That he should marry her.

 

Diph.      And so it stood,

                  In all opinion long; but your arrival

                  Made me imagine you had heard the change.

 

Mel.        Who hath he taken then?

 

Lys.        A Lady Sir,

                  That bears the light above her, and strikes dead

                  With flashes of her eye; the fair Evadne your

                  vertuous Sister.

 

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

 

Lys.        The King my brother did it

                  To honour you; and these solemnities

                  Are at his charge.

 

Mel.        'Tis Royal, like himself;

                  But I am sad, my speech bears so unfortunate a sound

                  To beautiful Aspatia; there is rage

                  Hid in her fathers breast; Calianax

                  Bent long against me, and he should not think,

                  If I could call it back, that I would take

                  So base revenges, as to scorn the state

                  Of his neglected daughter: holds he still his greatness

                  with the King?

 

Lys.        Yes; but this Lady

                  Walks discontented, with her watry eyes

                  Bent on the earth: the unfrequented woods

                  Are her delight; and when she sees a bank

                  Stuck full of flowers, she with a sigh will tell

                  Her servants what a pretty place it were

                  To bury lovers in, and make her maids

                  Pluck'em, and strow her over like a Corse.

                  She carries with her an infectious grief

                  That strikes all her beholders, she will sing

                  The mournful'st things that ever ear hath heard,

                  And sigh, and sing again, and when the rest

                  Of our young Ladies in their wanton blood,

                  Tell mirthful tales in course that fill the room

                  With laughter, she will with so sad a look

                  Bring forth a story of the silent death

                  Of some forsaken Virgin, which her grief

                  Will put in such a phrase, that ere she end,

                  She'l send them weeping one by one away.

 

Mel.        She has a brother under my command

                  Like her, a face as womanish as hers,

                  But with a spirit that hath much out-grown

                  The number of his years.

 

                                                       [Enter Amintor.

 

Cle.        My Lord the Bridegroom!

 

Mel.        I might run fiercely, not more hastily

                  Upon my foe: I love thee well Amintor,

                  My mouth is much too narrow for my heart;

                   I joy to look upon those eyes of thine;

                  Thou art my friend, but my disorder'd speech cuts off

                  my love.

 

Amin.       Thou art Melantius;

                  All love is spoke in that, a sacrifice

                  To thank the gods, Melantius is return'd

                  In safety; victory sits on his sword

                  As she was wont; may she build there and dwell,

                  And may thy Armour be as it hath been,

                  Only thy valour and thy innocence.

                  What endless treasures would our enemies give,

                  That I might hold thee still thus!

 

Mel.        I am but poor in words, but credit me young man,

                  Thy Mother could no more but weep, for joy to see thee

                  After long absence; all the wounds I have,

                  Fetch not so much away, nor all the cryes

                  Of Widowed Mothers: but this is peace;

                  And what was War?

 

Amin.      Pardon thou holy God

                  Of Marriage bed, and frown not, I am forc't

                  In answer of such noble tears as those,

                  To weep upon my Wedding day.

 

Mel.       I fear thou art grown too sick; for I hear

                  A Lady mourns for thee, men say to death,

                  Forsaken of thee, on what terms I know not.

 

Amin.      She had my promise, but the King forbad it,

                  And made me make this worthy change, thy Sister

                  Accompanied with graces above her,

                  With whom I long to lose my lusty youth,

                  And grow old in her arms.

 

Mel.       Be prosperous.

 

                                                       [Enter Messenger.

 

Messen. My Lord, the Maskers rage for you.

 

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

 

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

                 With our solemnities.

 

Mel.       Not so Amintor.

                 But if you laugh at my rude carriage

                 In peace, I'le do as much for you in War

                 When you come thither: yet I have a Mistress

                 To bring to your delights; rough though I am,

                 I have a Mistress, and she has a heart,

                 She saies, but trust me, it is stone, no better,

                 There is no place that I can challenge in't.

                 But you stand still, and here my way lies.

 

                                                                  [Exit.

 

  Enter Calianax with Diagoras.

 

Cal.      Diagoras, look to the doors better for shame, you let

                in all the world, and anon the King will rail at me; why

                very well said, by Jove the King will have the show

                i'th' Court.

 

Diag.     Why do you swear so my Lord?

                You know he'l have it here.

 

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

 

Diag.     And if he will not be wise, you are forsworn.

 

Cal.      One may wear his heart out with swearing, and get

                thanks on no side, I'le be gone, look to't who will.

 

Diag.     My Lord, I will never keep them out.

                 Pray stay, your looks will terrifie them.

 

Cal.       My looks terrifie them, you Coxcombly Ass you!

                 I'le be judg'd by all the company whether thou hast not a

                 worse face than I--

 

Diag.      I mean, because they know you and your Office.

 

Cal.       Office! I would I could put it off, I am sure I sweat

                 quite through my Office, I might have made room at my

                 Daughters Wedding, they had near kill'd her among them.

                 And now I must do service for him that hath forsaken her;

                 serve that will.

 

                                                        [Exit Calianax.

 

Diag.      He's so humourous since his daughter was forsaken:

                 hark, hark, there, there, so, so, codes, codes.

                 What now?

 

                                                 [Within.  knock within.

 

Mel.       Open the door.

 

Diag.      Who's there?

 

Mel.       Melantius.

 

Diag.      I hope your Lordship brings no troop with you,

                 for if you do, I must return them.

 

                                                       [Enter Melantius.

 

Mel.       None but this Lady Sir.

 

                                                         [And a Lady.

 

Diag.      The Ladies are all plac'd above, save those that

                 come in the Kings Troop, the best of Rhodes sit there,

                 and there's room.

 

Mel.       I thank you Sir: when I have seen you plac'd

                 Madam, I must attend the King; but the Mask done, I'le

                 wait on you again.

 

Diag.      Stand back there, room for my Lord Melantius, pray bear

                 back, this is no place for such youths and their Truls,

                 let the doors shut agen; I, do your heads itch? I'le

                 scratch them for you: so now thrust and hang: again,

                 who is't now? I cannot blame my Lord Calianax for

                 going away; would he were here, he would run raging

                 among them, and break a dozen wiser heads than his

                 own in the twinkling of an eye: what's the news now?

 

                                                              [Within.

 

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

 

Diag.       If I open the door I'le cook some of your Calvesheads.

                  Peace Rogues.--again,--who is't?

 

Mel.        Melantius within. Enter Calianax to Melantius.

 

Cal.        Let him not in.

 

Diag.       O my Lord I must; make room there for my

                  Lord; is your Lady plac't?

 

Mel.        Yes Sir, I thank you my Lord Calianax: well met,

                  Your causless hate to me I hope is buried.

 

Cal.       Yes, I do service for your Sister here,

                  That brings my own poor Child to timeless death;

                  She loves your friend Amintor, such another

                  false-hearted Lord as you.

 

Mel.        You do me wrong,

                  A most unmanly one, and I am slow

                  In taking vengeance, but be well advis'd.

 

Cal.        It may be so: who placed the Lady there so near

                  the presence of the King?

 

Mel.        I did.

 

Cal.        My Lord she must not sit there.

 

Mel.        Why?

 

Cal.        The place is kept for women of more worth.

 

Mel.        More worth than she? it mis-becomes your Age

                 And place to be thus womanish; forbear;

                 What you have spoke, I am content to think

                 The Palsey shook your tongue to.

 

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

 

Mel.        I shall forget this place, thy Age, my safety, and

                  through all, cut that poor sickly week thou hast to

                  live, away from thee.

 

Cal.        Nay, I know you can fight for your Whore.

 

Mel.        Bate the King, and be he flesh and blood,

                 He lyes that saies it, thy mother at fifteen

                 Was black and sinful to her.

 

Diag.     Good my Lord!

 

Mel.      Some god pluck threescore years from that fond man,

                That I may kill him, and not stain mine honour;

                It is the curse of Souldiers, that in peace

                They shall be brain'd by such ignoble men,

                As (if the Land were troubled) would with tears

                And knees beg succour from 'em: would that blood

                (That sea of blood) that I have lost in fight,

                Were running in thy veins, that it might make thee

                Apt to say less, or able to maintain,

                Shouldst thou say more,--This Rhodes I see is nought

                But a place priviledg'd to do men wrong.

 

Cal.        I, you may say your pleasure.

 

                                                    [Enter Amintor.

 

Amint.      What vilde injury

                  Has stirr'd my worthy friend, who is as slow

                  To fight with words, as he is quick of hand?

 

Mel.        That heap of age which I should reverence

                  If it were temperate: but testy years

                  Are most contemptible.

 

Amint.    Good Sir forbear.

 

Cal.      There is just such another as your self.

 

Amint.    He will wrong you, or me, or any man,

                 And talk as if he had no life to lose

                 Since this our match: the King is coming in,

                 I would not for more wealth than I enjoy,

                 He should perceive you raging, he did hear

                 You were at difference now, which hastned him.

 

Cal.      Make room there.

 

  Hoboyes play within.

 

  Enter King, Evadne, Aspatia, Lords and Ladies.

 

King.     Melantius, thou art welcome, and my love