The modern British drama

Amin. Prithee, vex me not!

Ecad. I am gone;

Leave me! I am afraid some sudden start
Will pull a murder on me.

I love my life well.

[Exit EVADNE.

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

[Exit.

Enter MELANTIUS.

My servants all over for this. [Exit CALIANAX.
Mel. This old fellow haunts me!
But the distracted carriage of my Amintor
Takes deeply on me: I will find the cause.
I fear his conscience cries, he wronged Aspatia.
Enter AMINTOR.

Amin. Men's eyes are not so subtle to perceive
My inward misery: I bear my grief,

Hid from the world. How art thou wretched, then?

Mel. I'll know the cause of all Amintor's griefs, For aught I know, all husbands are like me; Or friendship shall be idle.

Enter CALIANAX.

Cal. O Melantius, my daughter will die. Mel. Trust me, I am sorry. "Would thou hadst ta'en her room!

Cal. Thou art a slave,

A cut-throat slave, a bloody treacherous slave!
Mel. Take heed, old man ; thou wilt be heard

to rave,

And lose thine offices.

Cal. I am valiant grown,

At all these years, and thou art but a slave!
Mel. Leave! Some company will come, and I
respect

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

Cat. I'll spoil your mirth: I mean to fight
with thee.

There lie, my cloak! This was my father's sword,
And he durst fight. Are you prepared?

Mel. Why wilt thou doat thyself out of thy life?
Hence, get thee to bed! have careful looking to,
And eat warm things, and trouble not me:
My head is full of thoughts, more weighty
Than thy life or death can be.

Cal. You have a name in war, where you stand
safe

Amongst a multitude; but I will try
What you dare do unto a weak old man,
In single fight. You will give ground, I fear.
Come, draw.

Mel. I will not draw, unless thou pull'st thy

death

Upon thee with a stroke. There's no one blow,
That thou canst give, hath strength enough to kill

me.

Tempt me not so far then: The power of earth
Shall not redeem thee.

Cal. I must let him alone;

He's stout and able; and, to say the truth,
However I may set a face, and talk,
I am not valiant. When I was a youth,
I kept my credit with a testy trick I had,
Amongst cowards, but durst never fight.
Mel. I will not promise to preserve your life,
If you do stay.

Cal. I would give half my land,

That I durst fight with that proud man a little.
If I had men to hold him, I would beat him,
Till he asked me mercy.

Me!. Sir, will you be gone?

And every one, I talk with of his wife,
Is but a well dissembler of his woes,

As I am. 'Would I knew it; for the rareness
Afflicts me now.

Mel. Amintor, we have not enjoy'd our friendship of late, for we were wont to change our souls in talk.

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

Mel. How was't?

Amin. Why, such an odd one!

Mel. I have long'd to speak with you; not of an idle jest, that's forc'd, but of matter you are bound to utter to me.

Amin. What is that, my friend?

Mel. I have observ'd your words

Fall from your tongue wildly; and all your carriage
Like one that strove to shew his merry mood,
When he were ill disposed: You were not wont
To put such scorn into your speech, or wear
Upon your face ridiculous jollity.

Some sadness sits here, which your cunning would
Cover o'er with smiles, and 'twill not be.
What is it?

Amin. A sadness here! what cause
Can fate provide for me, to make me so?
Am I not lov'd through all this isle? The king
Rains greatness on me. Have I not receiv'd
A lady to my bed, that in her eye
Keeps mounting fire, and on her tender cheeks
Immutable colour, in her heart

A prison for all virtue? Are not you,
Which is above all joys, my constant friend?
What sadness can I have? No; I am light,
And feel the courses of my blood more warm
And stirring than they were. Faith, marry too;
And you will feel so unexpress'd a joy
In chaste embraces, that you will indeed
Appear another.

Mel. You may shape, Amintor,
Causes to cozen the whole world withal,
And yourself too; but 'tis not like a friend,
To hide your soul from me. 'Tis not your nature
To be thus idle: I have seen you stand,
As you were blasted, 'midst of all your mirth;
Call thrice aloud, and then start, feigning joy
So coldly!-World, what do I hear? a friend
Is nothing. Heav'n, I would have told that man
My secret sins! I'll search an unknown land,
And there plant friendship; all is wither'd here.
Come with a compliment! I would have fought,
Or told my friend he lied,' ere sooth'd him so.

Cal. I dare not stay; but I'll go home and beat Out of my bosom!

Amin. But there is nothing-
Mel. Worse and worse! farewell!
From this time have acquaintance, but no friend.
Amin. Melantius, stay: You shall know what it is.
Mel. See, how you play'd with friendship!
Be advised

How you give cause unto yourself to say,
You have lost a friend.

Amin. Forgive what I have done;
For I am so o'ergone with injuries
Unheard of, that I lose consideration
Of what I ought to do. Oh, oh!

Mel. Do not weep.

What is it? May I once but know the man Hath turned my friend thus!

Amin. I had spoke at first,

But that

Mel. But what?

Amin. I held it most unfit

For you to know. Faith, do not know it yet.
Mel. Thou seest my love, that will keep company
With thee in tears; hide nothing then from me;
For, when I know the cause of thy distemper,
With mine old armour I'll adorn myself,
My resolution, and cut through thy foes,
Unto thy quiet; till I place thy heart
As peaceable, as spotless innocence.
What is it?

Amin. Why, 'tis this-It is too big
To get out-Let my tears make way awhile.
Mel. Punish me strangely, Heav'n, if he escape
Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this!
Amin. Your sister----

Mel. Well said.

Amin. You will wish't unknown,

When you have heard it.

Mel. No.

Amin. Is much to blame,

And to the king has given her honour up, And lives in whoredom with him.

Mel. How is this?

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

Amin. She's wanton: I am loth to say, 'a whore,' Though it be true.

Mel. Speak yet again, before mine anger grow
Up, beyond throwing down: What are thy griefs?
Amin. By all our friendship, these. ̧
Mel. What, am I tame?

After mine actions, shall the name of Friend
Blot all our family, and stick the brand
Of whore upon my sister, unreveng'd?
My shaking flesh, be thou a witness for me,
With what unwillingness I go to scourge
This railer, whom my folly hath call'd Friend!
I will not take thee basely; thy sword
Hangs near thy hand; draw it, that I may whip
Thy rashness to repentance. Draw thy sword!
Amin. Not on thee, did thine anger swell as high
As the wild surges. Thou shouldst do me ease
Here, and eternally, if thy noble hand
Would cut me from my sorrows.

The name of Friend is more than family,
Or all the world besides: I was a fool!
Thou searching human nature, that didst wake
To do me wrong, thou art inquisitive,
And thrust'st me upon questions, that will take
My sleep away! 'Would I had died, ere known
This sad dishonour! Pardon me, my friend!
If thou wilt strike, here is a faithful heart;
Pierce it, for I will never heave my hand
To thine. Behold the power thou hast in me!
I do believe my sister is a whore,

A leprons one! Put up thy sword, young man.
Amin. How should I bear it then, she being so?
I fear, my friend, that you will lose me shortly;
And I shall do a foul act on myself,
Through these disgraces.

Mel. Better half the land

Were buried quick together. No, Amintor; Thou shalt have ease. Oh, this adult'rous king, That drew her to it! Where got he the spirit To wrong me so?

Amin. What is it then to me, If it be wrong to you?

Mel. Why, not so much:

The credit of our house is thrown away.
But from his iron den I'll waken Death,
And hurl him on this king! My honesty
Shall steel my sword; and on its horrid point
I'll wear my cause, that shall amaze the eyes
Of this proud man, and be too glittering
For him to look on.

Amin. I have quite undone my fame.
Mel. Dry up thy watery eyes,

And cast a manly look upon my face;
For nothing is so wild as I, thy friend,
Till I have freed thee. Still this swelling breast!
go thus from thee, and will never cease
My vengeance, till I find thy heart at peace.
Amin. It must not be so. Stay! Mine eyes
would tell

How loth I am to this; but, love and tears,

wrung

From out my bosom: Give it me again;
For I will find it, wheresoe'er it lies,
Hid in the mortal'st part! Invent a way
To give it back.

Mel. Why would you have it back?
I will to death pursue him with revenge.
Amin. Therefore I call it back from thee; for
I know

Thy blood so high, that thou wilt stir in this,
And shame me to posterity. Take to thy weapon!
Mel. Hear thy friend, that bears more years
than thou.

Amin. I will not hear! but draw, or I-
Mel. Amintor!

Amin. Draw then; for I am full as resolute

As fame and honour can enforce me be!

I cannot linger. Draw!

Mel. I do. But is not

My share of credit equal with thine,
If I do stir?

Amin. No; for it will be call'd

Honour in thee to spill thy sister's blood,
If she her birth abuse; and, on the king,

A brave revenge: But on me, that have walk'd
With patience in it, it will fix the name

Of fearful cuckold. Oh, that word! Be quick. Mel. Then join with me.

Amin. I dare not do a sin, or else I would. Be speedy.

Mel. Then dare not fight with me; for that's a 'sin.

His grief distracts him: Call thy thoughts again, And to thyself pronounce the name of Friend, And see what that will work. I will not fight. Amin. You must.

Mel. I will be kill'd first. Though my passions

Offer'd the like to you, 'tis not this earth
Shall buy my reason to it. Think awhile,
For you are (I must weep, when I speak that)
Almost besides yourself.

Amin. Oh, my soft temper!

So many sweet words from thy sister's mouth,
I am afraid, would make me take her

To embrace, and pardon her. I am mad, indeed,
And know not what I do. Yet, have a care
Of me in what thou dost.

Mel. Why, thinks my friend

I will forget his honour? or, to save
The bravery of our house, will lose his fame,
And fear to touch the throne of majesty?
Amin. A curse will follow that; but rather live,
And suffer with me.

Mel. I'll do what worth shall bid me, and no *more.

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

Mel. Come, take again your mirth about you. Amin. I shall never do't.

Diph. Yonder has been such laughing.
Mel. Betwixt whom?

Diph. Why, our sister and the king; I thought their spleens would break; they laugh'd us all out of the room.

Mel. They must weep, Diphilus.

Diph. Must they?

Mel. They must.

Thou art my brother; and if I did believe Thou hadst a base thought, I would rip it out, Lie where it durst.

Diph. You should not; I would first mangle myself, and find it.

Mel. That was spoke according to our strain. Come, join thy hands to mine,

And swear a firmness to what project I
Shall lay before thee.

Diph. You do wrong us both:

People hereafter shall not say, there passed
A bond, more than our loves, to tie our lives
And deaths together.

Mel. It is as nobly ́said as I would wish.
Anon I'll tell you wonders. We are wrong'd.
Diph. But I will tell you now, we'll right our-

selves.

Mel. Stay not: Prepare the armour in my
house;

And what friends you can draw unto our side,
Not knowing of the cause, make ready too.
Haste, Diphilus, the time requires it; haste!
[Exit DIPHILUS.
I hope my cause is just; I know my blood
Tells me it is; and I will credit it.
To take revenge, and lose myself withal,
Were idle; and to 'scape impossible,
Without I had the fort, which (misery!)
Remaining in the hands of my old enemy
Calianax---But I must have it. See,

Cal. And should I help thee? Now thy treacherous mind betrays itself. Mel. Come, delay me not; Give me a sudden answer, or already Thy last is spoke! refuse not offer'd love, When it comes clad in secrets.

Cal. If I say

I will not, he will kill me; I do see it
Writ in his looks; and should I say I will,
He'll run and tell the king.-I do not shun
Your friendship, dear Melantius, but this cause
Is weighty; give me but an hour to think.
Mel. Take it.-I know this goes unto the king;
But I am armed.
[Erit MELANTIUS.

Cal. Methinks I feel myself
But twenty now again! this fighting fool
Wants policy! I shall revenge my girl,

Mel. Nay, but stay! I cannot 'scape, the deed And make her red again. I pray, my legs

once done,

Without I have this fort.

Will last that pace, that I will carry them:

I shall want breath, before I find the king. [Exit.

ACT IV.

Enter MELANTIUS, EVADNE, and a Lady.
Mel. Save you!

Evad. Save you, sweet brother!
Mel. In my blunt eye,

Methinks, you look, Evadne--

Evad. Come, you would make me blush.

Mel. I would, Evadne: I shall displease my ends else.

Evad. You shall, if you commend me; I am -bashful.

Come, sir, how do I look ?

Mel. I would not have your women hear me Break into commendation of you; 'tis not seemly. Evad. Go, wait me in the gallery.--Now speak. [Exeunt Ladies.

Mel. I'll lock the door first.
Evad. Why?

Mel. I will not have your gilded things, that

dance

A lady of a sweet complexion,

And such a flowing carriage, that it cannot

Chuse but inflame a kingdom.

Evad. Gentle brother!

Evad. This is saucy:

Look you intrude no more! There lies your way. Mel. Thou art my way, and I will tread upon thee, "Till I find truth out.

Evad. What truth is that, you look for? Mel. Thy long-lost honour. 'Would the gods had set me

Rather to grapple with the plague, or stand
One of their loudest bolts! Come, tell me quick-
ly,

Do it without enforcement, and take heed
You swell me not above my temper.

Evad. How, sir! where got you this report?
Mel. Where there were people, in every place.
Evad. They and the seconds of it are base
people:

Believe them not, they lied.

Mel. Do not play with mine anger, do not,

wretch!

I come to know that desperate fool, that drew

thee

From thy fair life: Be wise, and lay him open. Evad. Unhand me, and learn manners: Such another

Mel. "Tis yet in thy repentance, foolish wo- Forgetfulness forfeits your life.

Mel. Quench me this mighty humour, and then tell me

Whose whore you are; for you are one, I know it. Let all mine honours perish, but I'll find him, Though he lie lock'd up in thy blood! Be sudden;

There is no facing it, and be not flatter'd ! The burnt air, when the Dog reigns, is not fouler Than thy contagious name, 'till thy repentance (If the gods grant thee any) purge thy sickness. Evad. Be gone! You are my brother; that's your safety.

Mel. I'll be a wolf 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 virtue: Seek a kindred 'Mongst sensual beasts, and make a goat thy brother;

A goat is cooler. Will you tell me yet?

Evad. If you stay here and rail thus, I shall

tell you,

I'll have you whipp'd! get you to your command,
And there preach to your centinels, and tell them
What a brave man you are: I shall laugh at you.
Mel. You're grown a glorious whore! Where
be your fighters ?

What mortal fool durst raise thee to this daring,
And I alive? By my just sword, h'ad safer
Bestrid a billow, when the angry north
Plows up the sea, or made heaven's fire his food!
Work me no higher. Will you discover yet?
Evad. The fellow's mad: Sleep and speak

Here's one should thunder to them! will you tell me?

Thou hast no hope to 'scape: He, that dares most,

And damns away his soul to do thee service, Will sooner fetch meat from a hungry lion, Than come to rescue thee; thou'st death about thee.

This sword shall be thy lover! Tell, or I'll kill thee;

And when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it. Evad. You will not murder me?

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

Mel. By thy foul self, no human help shall help thee,

If thou criest! When I have killed thee, as I have Vow'd to do, if thou confess not, naked,

As thou hast left thine honour, will I leave thee; That on thy branded flesh the world may read Thy black shame, and my justice. Wilt thou bend yet?

Evad. Yes.

Mel. Up, and begin your story.

Evad. Oh, I am miserable!

Mel. 'Tis true, thou art. Speak truth still. Evad. I have offended:

Noble sir, forgive me.

Mel. With what secure slave?

Evad. Do not ask me, sir:
Mine own remembrance is a misery
Too mighty for me.

Mel. Do not fall back again :
My sword's unsheathed yet.

Evad. What shall I do?

Mel. Be true, and make your fault less. Evad. I dare not tell.

Mel. Tell, or I'll be this day a-killing thee. Evad. Will you forgive me then?

Mel. Stay; I must ask

Are liberally rewarded. King, I thank thee! For all my dangers and my wounds, thou hast paid me

In my own metal: These are soldiers' thanks! Who has undone thine honour, poison'd thy How long have you liv'd thus, Evadne ?

virtue,

Evad. Too long.

Mel. Too late you find it. Can you be sorry?
Evad. 'Would I were half as blameless!
Mel. Evadne, thou wilt to thy trade again!
Evad. First to my grave.

Mel. 'Would gods th' hadst been so blest! Dost thou not hate this king now? prithee hate him.

Couldst thou not curse him? I command thee, curse him.

Curse, till the gods hear, and deliver him
To thy just wishes! Yet, I fear, Evadne,
You had rather play your game out.

Evad. No; I feel

Too many sad confusions here, to let in
Any loose flame hereafter.

Mel. Dost thou not feel, among all those, one brave anger,

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The modern British drama, Том 1