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Dula. Nay, let your lord do some.

You'll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep, Asp. Lay a garland on my hearse,

When I am laid in earth, though you yourself Of the dismal yew.

Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself Evad. That's one of your sad songs,

madam. Into this willow garland, and am prouder, Asp. Believe me, 'tis a very pretty one. That I was once your love, though now refus'd, Evad. How is it, madam?

Than to have had another true to me.

So with my prayers I leave you, and must try
Some yet-unpractis'd way to grieve and die.

[Erit. Asp. Lay a garland on my hearse,

Dula. Come, ladies, will you go?
Of the dismal
yer ;

Omnes. Good night, my lord.
Maidens, willow branches bear ;

Amin. Much happiness unto you all!
Say, I died true :

(Ereunt Ladies.
My love was false, but I was firm I did that lady wrong: Methinks, I feel
my hour of birth.

Her grief shoot suddenly through all my veins. Upon my buried body lie

Mine eyes run : This is strange at such a time. Lighily, gentle earth!

It was the king first mov'd me to't; but he Evad. Fie on't, madam! the words are so

Has not my will in keeping. Why do I strange, they are able to make one dream of hob Perplex myself thus ? Something whispers me, goblins. I could never have the power:' Sing As my own conscience, too sensible,

Go not to bed. My guilt is not so great that, Dula.

Would make me think: I only brake a promise, Dula. I could never have the pow'r

And 'twas the king that forced me. Tim'rous flesh,
To love one above an hour,

Why shak’st thou so? Away, my idle fears !
But my heart would prompt mine eye
On some other man to fly :

Venus, fix thou mine eyes fast,

Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye
Or, if not, give me all that I shall see at last. Can blot away the sad remembrance

Of all these things. Oh, my Evadne, spare
Evad. So, leave me now.
Dula. Nay, we must see you laid.

That tender body; let it not take cold.
Asp. Madam, good night. May all the mar-

The vapours of the night will not fall here ; riage joys

To bed, my love. Hymen will punish us That longing maids imagine in their beds,

For being slack performers of his rites.

Cam'st thou to call me? Prove so unto you. May no discontent

Evad. No. Grow 'twixt your love and you ! But, if there do,

Amin. Come, come, my love,
Enquire of me, and I will guide your moan;

And let us loose ourselves to one another.
Teach you an artificial way to grieve,
To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord

Why art thou up so long?

Evad. I am not well. No worse than I ; but, if you love so well,

Amin. To bed then; let me wind thee in these Alas, you may displease him; so did I. This is the last time you shall look on me.


'Till I have banish'd sickness.
Ladies, farewell. As soon as I am dead,
Come all, and watch one night about my hearse; I cannot sleep.

Evad. Good my lord,
Bring each a mournful story, and a tear,
To offer at it, when I go to earth.

Amin. Evadne, we will watch;
With flatt'ring ivy clasp my coffin round;

I mean no sleeping. Write on my brow my fortune ; let my bier

Evad. I'll not go to bed. Be borne by virgins, that shall sing, by course,

Amin. I prithee, do.

Evad. I will not for the world.
The truth of maids, and perjuries of men.
Evad. Alas, I pity thee.

Amin. Why, my dear love?

[Erit EVAD. Omnes. Madam, good night.

Evad. Why? I have sworn I will ot.

Amin. Sworn! i Ludy. Come, we'll let in the bridegroom.

Evad. Ay.
Dula. Where's

lord ?

Amin. How! sworn, Evadne?

Evad. Yes, sworn, Amintor;

And will swear again, if you will wish to hear me. i Lady. Here, take this light.

Amin. To whom have you sworn this? Dula. You'll find her in the dark.

Evad. If I should name him, the matter were 1 Lady. Your lady's scarce abed yet; you

not great. must help her.

Amin. Come, this is but the coyness of a bride. Asp. Go, and be happy in your lady's love. Evad. The coyness of a bride? May all the wrongs, that you have done to me, Amin. How prettily that frown becomes thee. Be utterly forgotten in my death!

Evad. Do


like it so? I'll trouble you no more; yet I will take

Amin. Thou canst not dress thy face in such a A parting kiss, and will not be deny'd.


love me,

But I shall like it.

And with my youthful blood warm their cold Erad. What look likes you best?

flesh, Amin. Why do you ask?

Letting them curl themselves about my limbs, Evad. That I may shew you one less pleasing Than sleep one night with thee. This is not to you.

feigned, Amin. How's that?

Nor sounds it like the coyness of a bride. Evad. That I may shew you one less pleasing Amin. Is flesh so earthly to endure all this? to you.

Are these the joys of marriage? Hymen, keep Amin. I prithee, put thy jests in milder looks. This story (that will make succeeding youth It shews as thou wert angry.

Neglect thy ceremonies) from all ears; Erad. So, perhaps,

Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine, I am indeed.

To after-ages : We will scorn thy laws, Amin. Why, who has done thee wrong? If thou no better bless them. Touch the heart Name me the man, and by thyself I swear, Of her, that thou hast sent me, or the world Thy yet unconquer'd self, I will revenge thee. Shall know : There's not an altar, that will Eřad. Now I shall try thy truth. If thou dost


In praise of thee; we will adopt us sons;
Thou weigh'st not any thing compar'd with me: Then virtue shall inherit, and not blood.
Life, honour, joys eternal, all delights

If we do lust, we'll take the next we meet,
This world can yield, or hopeful people feign, Serving ourselves as other creatures do,
Or in the life to come, are light as air

And never take note of the female more,
To a true lover, when his lady frowns,

Nor of her issue.
And bids him do this. Wilt thou kill this man? I do rage in vain;
Swear, my Amintor, and I'll kiss the sin She can but jest. O, pardon me, my love!
Of from thy lips.

So dear the thoughts are that I hold of thee, Amin. I will not swear, sweet love,

That I must break forth. Satisfy my fear; Till I do know the cause.

It is a pain, beyond the hand of death,
Ered. I would, thou would'st.

To be in doubi : Confirm it with an oath,
Why, it is thou, that wrong'st me; I hate thee; If this be true.
Thou should'st have killed thyself.

Evad. Do you invent the form:
Amin. If I should know that, I should quickly Let there be in it all the binding words

Devils and conjurers can put together, The man you hated.

And I will take it. I have sworn before, Evad. Know it then, and do't.

And here, by all things holy, do again, Amin. Oh, no; what look soe'er thou shalt Never to be acquainted with thy bed. put on

Is your doubt over now? To try my faith, I shall not think thee false : Amin. I know too much. 'Would I had doubt I cannot find one blemish in thy face,

ed still ! Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to Was ever such a marriage night as this ! bed.

Ye pow'rs above, if you did ever mean If you have sworn to any of the virgins,

Man should be us'á thus, you have thought a That were your old companions, to preserve

way Your maidenhead a night, it may be done How he may bear himself, and save his honour

Instruct me in it; for to my dull eyes Erad. A maidenhead, Amintor,

There is no mean, no moderate course to run : At my years?

I must live scorned, or be a murderer. Amin. Sure, she raves.

Is there a third? Why is this night so calm ?

Why does not heaven speak in thunder to us, Thy natural temper. Shall I call thy maids ? And drown her voice? Either thy healthful sleep hath

left thee long, Evad. This rage will do no good. Or else some fever rages in thy blood.

Amin. Evadne, hear me: Thou hast ta'en an Evad. Neither, Amintor: Think you I am mad,

oath, Because I speak the truth?

But such a rash one, that, to keep it, were Amin. Will you not lie with me to-night? Worse than to swear it: Call it back to thee; Evad. To-night! you talk as if I would here- Such vows as those never ascend to heav'n; after.

A tear or two will wash it quite away: Amin. Hereafter! yes, I do.

Have mercy on my youth, my hopeful youth, Evad. You are deceived.

If thou be pitiful; for, without boast, Put off amazement, and with patience mark This land was proud of me. What lady was What I shall utter: for the oracle

there, Knows nothing truer; 'tis not for a night, That men called fair and virtuous in this isle, Or two, that I forbear thy bed, but for ever. That would have shunn’d my love; It is in thee Amin. I dream! Awake, Amintor!

To make me hold this worth. Oh! we vain men, Evad. You hear right.

That trust out all our reputation,
I sooner will find out the beds of snakes, To rest upon the weak and yielding hand

Without this means.

This cannot be

Of feeble woman! But thou art not stone; Amin. What devil put it in thy fancy, then,
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doth dwell To marry me?
The spirit of love; thy heart cannot be hard. Evad. Alas, I must have one
Come, lead me, from the bottom of despair, To father children, and to bear the name
To all the joys thou hast; I know, thou wilt ; Of husband to me, that my sin may be
And make me careful, lest the sudden change More honourable.
O'ercome my spirits.

Amin. What a strange thing am 1!
Ecud. When I call back this oath,

Evad. A miserable one; one that myself The pains of hell environ me!

Am sorry for. Amin. I sleep, and am too temperate! Come Amin. Why, shew it then in this: to bed!

If thou hast pity, though thy love be none, Or hy those hairs, which, if thou hadst a soul Kill me; and all true lovers, that shall live Like to thy locks, were threads for kings to wear In after ages, cross'd in their desires, About their arms

Shall bless thy memory, and call thee good; Evad. Why, so, perhaps, they are.

Because such mercy in thy heart was found, Amin. I'll drag thee to my bed, and make thy To rid a ling’ring wretch. tongue

Evad. I must have one Undo this wicked oath, or on thy flesh

To fill thy room again, if thou wert dead; I'll print a thousand wounds to let out life! Else, by this night, I would: I pity thee. Ēoad. I fear thee not. Do what thou dar'st Amin. These strange and sudden injuries hare to me!

fallen Ev'ry ill-sounding word, or threat’ning look, So thick upon me, that I lose all sense Thou shew'st to me, will be revenged at full. Of what they are. Methinks, I am not wrong'd; Amin. It will not, sure, Evadne?

Nor is it aught, if from the censuring world Evad. Do not you hazard that.

I can but hide it. Reputation ! Amin. Have you your champions ?

Thou art a word, no more.— But thou hast shewn Evad. Alas, Amintor, think'st thou I forbear An impudence so high, that to the world To sleep with thee, because I have put on I fear thou wilt betray or shame thyself. A maiden's strictness ? Look upon these cheeks, Erad. To cover shame, I took thee; never fear And thou shalt find the hot and rising blood That I would blaze myself. Unapt for such a vow. No; in this heart Amin. Nor let the king There dwells as much desire, and as much will Know I conceive he wrongs me ; then mine hoTo put that wish'd act in practice, as ever yet Was known to woman; and they have been Will thrust me into action, though my flesh shewn

Could bear with patience. And it is some ease Both. But it was the folly of thy youth To me in these extremes, that I knew this, To think this beauty, to what land soever Before I touch'd thee; else, had all the sins It shall be call’d, shall stoop to any second. Of mankind stood betwixt me and the king, I do enjoy the best, and in that height

I had gone through 'em to his heart and thine. Have sworn to stand or die: You guess the man. I have lost one desire: 'Tis not his crown Amin. No; let me know the man that wrongs Shall buy me to thy bed now, I resolve, me so,

He has dishonour'd thee. Give me thy hand; That I may cut his body into motes,

Be careful of thy credit, and sin close; And scatter it before the northern wind.

'Tis all I wish. Upon thy chamber floor Ecad. You dare not strike him.

I'll rest to-night, that morning visitors Amin. Do not wrong me so.

May think we did as married people use. Yes, if his body were a pois'nous plant,

And, prithee, smile upon me when they come, That it were death to touch, I have a soul And seem to toy, as if thou hadst been pleas'd Will throw me on him.

With what we did. Evad. Why, it is the king.

Evud. Fear not; I will•do this. Amin. The king!

Amin. Come, let us practise; and, as wantonly Evad. What will you do now?

As ever loving bride and bridegroom met, Amin. 'Tis not the king !

Let's laugh and enter here. Erud. What did he make this match for, dull Eoud, I am content. Amintor ?

Amin. Down all the swellings of my troubled Airin. Oh, thou hast nam'd a word, that wipes

heart! away

When we walk thus entwin'd, let all eyes see, All thoughts revengeful! In that sacred name, If ever lovers better did agree. (Ereunt. · The king,' there lies a terror.

What frail man Dares litt his hand against it? Let the gods

Enter ASPATIA, ANTIPHILA, and OLYMPIAS. Speak to him when they please; 'till when, let us Asp. Away, you are not sad; force it no fur Suter, and wait.

ther. Evad. Why should you fill yourself so full of Good gods, how well you look! Such a full colour heat,

Young bashful brides put on. Sure, you are new Ad haste so to my bed? I am no virgin.




Anl. Yes, madam, to your grief.

And his ship ploughing it; and then a Fear: Asp. Alas, poor wenches!

Do that Fear to the life, wench. Go learn to love first; learn to lose yourselves; Ant. It will wrong the story. Learn to be flatter'd, and believe, and bless Asp. 'Twill make the story, wrong'd by wanThe double tongue that did it. Make a faith

ton poets, Out of the miracles of ancient lovers,

Live long, and be believ'd. But where's the lady? Such as spake truth, and died in't; and, like me, Ant. There, madam. Believe all faithful, and be miserable.

Asp. Fie! you have miss'd it here, Antiphila; Did you ne'er love yet, wenches? Speak, Olym- You are much mistaken, wench: pias:

These colours are not dull and pale enough Thou hast an easy temper, fit for stamp.

To shew a soul so full of misery Olym. Never.

As this sad lady's was.

Do it by me; Asp. Nor you, Antiphila ?

Do it again, by ine, the lost Aspatia, Ant. Nor 1.

And you shall find all true, but the wild island. Asp. Then, my good girls, be more than wo- Suppose I stand upon the sea-beach now, men, wise :

Mine arms thus, and inine hair blown with the At least, be more than I was; and be sure

wind, You credit any thing the light gives light to, Wild as that desart; and let all about me Before a man. Rather believe the sea

Tell that I am forsaken. Do my face Weeps for the ruin’d merchant, when he roars; (If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow) Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sails, Thus, thus, Antiphila : Strive to make me look When the strong cordage cracks; rather, the sun Like sorrow's monument! And the trees about Comes but to kiss the fruit in wealthy autumn,

me, When all falls blasted. If you needs must love, Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks (Forc'd by ill fate) take to your maiden bosoms Groan with continual surges; and, behind me, Two dead-cold aspicks, and of them make lovers: Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches ! They cannot flatter, nor forswear; one kiss A miserable life of this poor picture! Makes a long peace for all. But man,

Olym. Dear madam! Oh, that beast man! Come, let's be sad, my girls! Asp. I have done. Sit down; and let us That down-cast of thine eye, Olympias, Upon that point fix all our eyes; that point there. Shews a fine sorrow. Mark, Antiphila; Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden sadness Just such another was the nymph Enone, Give us new souls. When Paris brought home Helen. Now, a tear; And then thou art a piece expressing fully

Enter CALIASAX. The Carthage queen, when, from a cold sea-rock, Cal. The king may do this, and he may not Full with her sorrow, she tieri fast her eyes

do it: To the fair Trojan ships ; and, having lost them, My child is wrong’d, disgrac'd.-Well, how now, Just as thine eyes do, down stole a tear. Anti

huswives! phila,

What, at your ease? Is this a time to sit still ? What would this wench do, if she were Aspatia? | Up, you young lazy whores, up, or l’ll swinge you! Here she would stand, till some more pitying god Olym. Nay, good my lord. Turn’d her to marble ! 'Tis enough, my wench! Cal. You'll lie down shortly. Get you in, and Shew me the piece of needlework you wrought.

work! Ant. Of Ariadne, madam?

What, are you grown so resty you want heats? Asp. Yes, that piece.

We shall have some of the court-boys heat you This should be Theseus; h'as a cozening face:

shortly. You meant him for a man?

Ant. My lord, we do no more than we are Ant. He was so, madam.

charg'd. Asp. Why, then, 'tis well enough. Never look It is the lady's pleasure we be thus in grief: back;

She is forsaken. You have a full wind, and a false heart, Theseus! Cal. There's a rogue too; Does not the story say, his keel was split, A young dissembling slave! Well, get you in! Or his masts spent, or some kind rock or other l'll have a bout with that boy. "Tis high time Met with his vessel ?

Now to be valiant: I confess my youth Ant. Not as I remember.

Was never prone that way What, made an ass? Asp. It should have been so. Could the gods A court-stale? Well, I will be valiant, know this,

And beat some dozen of these whelps; I will! And not, of all their number, raise a storm? And there's another of them, a trim cheating solBut they are all as ill! This false smile was

dier; Well express'd; just such another caught me! I'll maul that rascal; h'as out-braved me twice; You shall not go on so, Antiphila :

But now, I thank the gods, I am valiant. In this place work a quicksand,

Go, get you in! I'll take a course with all. And over it a shallow smiling water,



dier yet.

Amin. Dear Melantius! Enter Cleon, STRATO, and DIPHILUS.

Let me behold thee. Is it possible? Cleo. Your sister is not up yet.

Mel. What sudden gaze is this? Diph. Oh, brides must take their morning's, Amin. 'Tis wond'rous strange! rest; the night is troublesome.

Mel. Why does thine eye desire so stricts Stra. But not tedious.

view Diph. What odds, he has not my sister's Of that it knows so well? There's nothing here, maidenhead to-night?

That is not thine. Stra. No; it's odds against any bridegroom Amin. I wonder much, Melantius, living, he ne'er gets it while he lives.

To see those noble looks, that make me think Diph. You're merry with my sister ; you'll How virtuous thou art: And, on the sudden, please to allow me the same freedom with your 'Tis strange to me thou shouldst have worth and mother.

honour; Stra. She's at your service.

Or not be base, and false, and treacherous,
Diph. Then, she's merry enough of herself; And every ill. But--
she needs no tickling. Knock at the door. Mel. Stay, stay, my friend;
Stra. We shall interrupt them.

I fear this sound will not become our loves. Diph. No matter; they have the year before No more; embrace me. them. Good morrow, sister! spare yourself to- Amin. Oh, mistake me not : day; the night will come again.

I know thee to be full of all those deeds,

That we frail men call good; but, by the course Enter AMINTOR.

Of nature, thou shouldst be as quickly chang'd Amin. Who's there ? my brother! I'm no rea- As are the winds; dissembling as the sea,

That now wears brows as smooth as virgins' be, Your sister is but now up.

Tempting the merchant to invade his face, Diph. You look as you had lost your eyes to- And in an hour calls his billows up, .night :

And shoots them at the sun, destroying all I think you have not slept.

He carries on him.--Oh, how near am I Amin. I'faith I have not.

To utter my sick thoughts !

(Aside. Diph. You have done better, then.

Mel. But why, my friend, should I be so by Amin. We ventur'd for a boy: When he is

nature? twelve,

Amin. I've wed thy sister, who hath virtuous He shall command against the foes of Rhodes.

thoughts Shall we be merry?

Enough for one whole family ; and it is strange Stra. You cannot; you want sleep.


should feel no want. Amin. 'Tis true.-But she,

Mel. Believe me, this compliment's too cunAs if she had drank Lethe, or had made

ning for me. Even with Heav'n, did fetch so still a sleep, Diph. What should I be then, by the course So sweet and sound


of nature, Diph. What's that?

They having both robb’d me of so much virtue? Amin. Your sister frets

Sira. Oh, call the bride, my lord Amintor, This morning; and does turn her eyes upon me, That we may see her blush, and turn her eyes As people on their headsman. She does chafe,

And kiss, and chafe again, and clap my cheeks: 'Tis the prettiest sport!
She's in another world.

Amin. Evadne!
Diph. Then I had lost : I was about to lay Evad. (Within.] My lord !
You had not got her maidenhead to-night.

Amin. Come forth, my love!
Amin. Ha! he does not mock me?--you had Your brothers do attend to wish you joy
lost indeed.

Evad. I am not ready yet. I do not use to bungle.

Amin. Enough, enough.
Cleo. You do deserve her,

Evad. They'll mock me.
Amin. I laid my lips to hers, and that wild Amin. Faith, thou shalt come in.

That was so rude and rough to me last night,

Enter EVADNE. Was sweet as April.-I'll be guilty too,

Mel. Good-morrow, sister! He that under. If these be the effects.



Whom you have wed, need not to wish you joy; Enter MELANTIUS.

You have enough. Take heed you be not proud. Mel. Good day, Amintor! for, to me, the Diph. Oh sister, what have you done?

Evad. I done! why, what have I done? Of brother is too distant: We are friends,

Stra. My lord Amintor swears you are no And that is nearer.

maid now.


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