The Maids Tragedy - John Fletcher

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?

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

Lys. Noble Melantius!

Diph. Hail worthy brother!
                 He that rejoyces not at your return
                 In safety, is mine enemy for ever.

Mel. I thank thee Diphilus: but thou art faulty;
                  I sent for thee to exercise thine armes
                 With me at Patria: thou cam'st not Diphilus: 'Twas
                  ill.

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

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

Diph. Have you heard of it?

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

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

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

Diph. This day.

Mel. All joyes upon him, for he is my friend:
                  Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend,
                  His worth is great; valiant he is, and temperate,
                  And one that never thinks his life his own,
                  If his friend need it: when he was a boy,
                  As oft as I return'd (as without boast)
                  I brought home conquest, he would gaze upon me,
                  And view me round, to find in what one limb
                  The vertue lay to do those things he heard:
                  Then would he wish to see my Sword, and feel
                  The quickness of the edge, and in his hand
                  Weigh it; he oft would make me smile at this;
                  His youth did promise much, and his ripe years
                  Will see it all perform'd.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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?

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.