Betwixt your majesty and me? 'Twas wrong So To hearken to him; but to credit him, ths much, at least, as I have power to bear. But pardon me--whilst I speak only truth, may commend myself--I have bestow'd My careless blood with you, and should be loth nou To think an action, that would make me lose That, and my thanks too. When I was a boy, thrust myself into my country's cause, cer. And did a deed, that pluck'd five years from time, And styled me man then. And for you, my king, Your subjects all have fed by virtue of

My arm. This sword of mine hath plow'd the ground,

And reap'd the fruit in peace;

And you yourself have liv'd at home in ease.
So terrible I grew, that, without swords,

My name hath fetch'd you conquest: And my
heart

And limbs are still the same; my will as great
To do you service. Let me not be paid
With such a strange distrust.

King. Melantius,

held it great injustice to believe Thine enemy, and did not; if I did,

I do not; let that satisfy. What, struck With sadness all? More wine!

Cal. A few fine words

Have overthrown my truth. Ah, th'art a villain!

Mel. Why, thou wert better let me have the fort;

Dotard! I will disgrace thee thus for ever:
There shall no credit lie upon thy words.
Think better, and deliver it.

[Apart.

Cal. My liege,

He's at me now again to do it. Speak;

Deny it, if thou canst. Examine him,

While he is hot; for, if he cool again,

He will forswear it.

King. This is lunacy,

I hope, Melantius.

Mel. He hath lost himself

Much, since his daughter miss'd the happiness,
My sister gain'd; and, though he call me foe,
I pity him.

Cal. Pity? a pox upon you!

Mel. Mark his disordered words! And at the

masque,

Diagoras knows, he rag'd, and rail'd at me,
And called a lady whore, so innocent,
She understood him not. But it becomes
Both you and me too to forgive distraction :
Pardon him, as I do.

Cal. I'll not speak for thee,
For all thy cunning. If you will be safe,
Chop off his head; for there was never known
So impudent a rascal.

King. Some, that love him,

Get him to bed. Why, pity should not let
Age make itself contemptible; we must be
All old; have him away.

Mel. Calianax,

The king believes you; come, you shall go home, And rest; you have done well. You'll give it up,

Cal. I shall be mad indeed, if you do thus! Why should you trust a sturdy fellow there (That has no virtue in him; all's in his sword) Before me? Do but take his weapons from him, And he's an ass; and I'm a very fool, Both with him, and without him, as you use me. Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!

King. 'Tis well, Calianax. But if you use This once again, I shall entreat some other To see your offices be well discharg'd. Be merry, gentlemen; it grows somewhat late. Amintor, thou wouldst be a-bed again. Amin. Yes, sir.

King. And you, Evadne. Let me take Thee in my arms, Melantius, and believe Thou art, as thou deserv'st to be, my friend Still, and for ever. Good Calianax, Sleep soundly; it will bring thee to thyself. [Exeunt.

Manent MELANTIUS and CALIANAX. Cal. Sleep soundly! I sleep soundly now, I

hope;

I could not be thus else. How dar'st thou stay Alone with me, knowing how thou hast used me? Mel. You cannot blast me with your tongue, and that's

The strongest part you have about you.

Cal. Ay,

Do look for some great punishment for this:
For I begin to forget all my hate,
And take't unkindly, that mine enemy
Should use me so extr'ordinarily scurvily.
Mel. I shall melt too, if you begin to take
Unkindnesses: I never meant you hurt.

Cul. Thou'lt anger me again. Thou wretched

rogue,

Meant me no hurt! Disgrace me with the king;
Lose all my offices! This is no hurt,
Is it? I prithee, what dost thou call hurt?

Mel. To poison men, because they love me not;

To call the credit of men's wives in question; To murder children betwixt me and land; This is all hurt.

Cal. All this thou think'st is sport; For mine is worse: But use thy will with me; For, betwixt grief and anger, I could cry.

Mel. Be wise then, and be safe; thou may'st

But, if thou wilt deliver up the fort,
I'll take thy trembling body in my arms,
And bear thee over dangers: Thou shalt hold
Thy wonted state.

Cal, If I should tell the king,
Canst thou deny it again?

Mel. Try, and believe.

Cal. Nay, then thou canst bring any thing about.

Thou shalt have the fort.

Mel. Why, well:

Here let our hate be buried; and this hand Shall right us both. Give me thy aged breast To compass.

Cal. Nay, I do not love thee yet;

I cannot well endure to look on thee:
And if I thought it were a courtesy,

Thou should'st not have it. But I am disgrac❜d;
My offices are to be ta'en away;
And, if I did but hold this fort a day,

I do believe, the king would take it from me,
And give it thee, things are so strangely carried.
Ne'er thank me for't; but yet the king shall
know

There was some such thing in't I told him of;. And that I was an honest man.

Mel. He'll buy

That knowledge very dearly. Diphilus,

That rests upon our house, off with his blood.

Enter AMINTOR.

Amin. Melantius, now assist me: If thou be'st That, which thou say'st, assist me. I have lost All my distempers, and have found a rage So pleasing! Help me.

Mel. Who can see him thus,

And not swear vengeance?-What's the matter, friend?

Amin. Out with thy sword! and, hand in hand with me,

Rush to the chamber of this hated king,
And sink him, with the weight of all his sins,
To hell for ever.

Mel. 'Twere a rash attempt,

Not to be done with safety. Let your reason
Plot your revenge, and not your passion.

Amin. If thou refusest me in these extremes,
Thou art no friend: He sent for her to me;
By Heav'n, to me, myself! And, I must tell you,
I love her, as a stranger; there is worth
In that vile woman, worthy things, Melantius;
And she repents. I'll do't myself alone,
Though I be slain. Farewell.

Mel. He'll overthrow

My whole design with madness.-Amintor,
Think what thou dost: I dare as much as Valour;
But 'tis the king, the king, the king, Amintor,
With whom thou fightest!-I know he's honest,
And this will work with him.
[Aside.

Amin. I cannot tell

What thou hast said; but thou hast charm'd my sword

Out of my hand, and left me shaking here,
Defenceless.

Mel. I will take it up for thee.

Amin. What a wild beast is uncollected man! The thing, that we call honour, bears us all Headlong to sin, and yet itself is nothing.

Mel. Alas, how variable are thy thoughts! Amin. Just like my fortunes; I was run to that I purpos'd to have chid thee for. Some plot, I did distrust, thou hadst against the king, By that old fellow's carriage. But take heed; There's not the least limb growing to a king, But carries thunder in it.

Enter EVADNE and a Gentleman.

Evad. SIR, is the king a-bed?

Gent. Madam, an hour ago.

Evad. Give me the key then, and let none be

near;

'Tis the king's pleasure.

mine.

Gent. A good night be it then, and a long one, Erit. [King a-bed.

Eoad. The night grows horrible; and ail a

bout me

Like my black purpose. Oh, the conscience
Of a lost virgin! whither wilt thou pull me?
To what things, dismal as the depth of hell,
Wilt thou provoke me? Let no woman dare
From this hour be disloyal, if her heart be flesh,
If she have blood, and can fear: 'Tis a daring
Above that desperate fool's, that left his peace,
And went to sea to fight. 'Tis so many sins,
An age cannot repent 'em; and so great,
The gods want mercy for! Yet, I must through'em.
I have begun a slaughter on my honour,
And I must end it there. He sleeps.
Heav'ns!

Good

Why give you peace to this untemperate beast, That hath so long transgress'd you? I must kill hiin,

And I will do it bravely: The mere joy
Tells me, I merit in it. Yet, I must not
Thus tamely do it, as he sleeps; that were
To rock him to another world: My vengeance
Shall take him waking, and then lay before him
The number of his wrongs and punishments.
I'll shake his sins like furies, till I waken
His evil angel, his sick conscience,
And then I'll strike him dead. King, by your
leave, [Ties his arms to the Bed.
I dare not trust your strength. Your grace and I
Must grapple upon even terms no more.
So: If he rail me not from my resolution,
I shall be strong enough.-My lord the king!
My lord!-He sleeps, as if he meant to wake
No more.-My lord!-Is he not dead already?
Sir! My lord!

King. Who's that?

Evad. Oh, you sleep soundly, sir!

King. My dear Evadne,

I have been dreaming of thee. Come to bed. Evad. I am come at length, sir; but how welcome?

King. What pretty new device is this, Evadne? What, do you tie me to you? By my love, This is a quaint one. Come, my dear, and kiss me; I'll be thy Mars; to bed, my queen of love; Let us be caught together, that the gods May see, and envy our embraces.

Evad. Stay, sir, stay;

You are too hot, and I have brought you physic To temper your high veins.

King. Prithee, to bed then; let me take it

Evad. I am not she; nor bear I in this breast So much cold spirit to be called a woman. I am a tyger; I am any thing

That knows not pity. Stir not! If thou dost, I'll take thee unprepared; thy fears upon thee, That make thy sins look double; and so send thee (By my revenge, I will) to look those torments, Prepared for such black souls.

King. Thou dost not mean this; 'tis impossi ble:

Thou art too sweet and gentle.

Evad. No, I am not.

I am as foul as thou art, and can number
As many such hells here. I was once fair,
Once I was lovely; not a blowing rose
More chastely sweet, till thou, thou, thou foul
canker,

(Stir not) didst poison me. I was a world of virtue,

Till your curst court and you (hell bless you for❜t!) With your temptations on temptations,

Made me give up mine honour; for which, king, I'm come to kill thee.

King. No!

Evad. I

I am.

King. Thou art not!

I prithee speak not these things: Thou are gentle, And wert not meant thus rugged.

Evad. Peace, and hear me.

Stir nothing but your tongue, and that for mercy
To those above us; by whose lights I vow,
Those blessed fires, that shot to see our sin,
If thy hot soul had substance with thy blood,
I would kill that too; which, being past my steel,
My tongue shall reach. Thou art a shameless
villain!

A thing out of the overcharge of nature;
Sent, like a thick cloud, to disperse a plague
Upon weak catching women! such a tyrant,
That for his lust would sell away his subjects;
Ay, all his heav'n hereafter!

King. Hear, Evadne,

Thou soul of sweetness, hear! I am thy king. Evad. Thou art my shame! Lie still, there's none about you,

Within your cries: All promises of safety
Are but deluding dreams. Thus, thus, thou foul

Enter STRATO.

Stra. Never follow her;

For she, alas! was but the instrument.
News is now brought in that Melantius
Has got the fort, and stands upon the wall;
And with a loud voice calls those few, that pass
At this dead time of night, delivering
The innocence of this act.

Lys. Gentlemen, I am your king.
Stra. We do acknowledge it.

Lys. I would I were not! Follow, all; for this
Must have a sudden stop.
[Exeunt.
Enter MELANTIUS, DIPHILUS, and CALIANAX,

on the walls.

Cal. 'Tis a fine eloquence to come to the gallows! You were born to be my end. The devil take you!

Now must I hang for company. 'Tis strange,
I should be old, and neither wise nor valiant.
Enter LYSIPPUS, Diagoras, Cleon, Strato,
and Guard.

Lys. See where he stands, as boldly confident, As if he had his full command about him.

Stra. He looks as if he had the better cause, sir;
Under your gracious pardon, let me speak it!
Though he be mighty spirited, and forward
To all great things; to all things of that danger
Worse men shake at the telling of; yet, cer-
tainly,

I do believe him noble; and this action
Rather pull'd on, than sought: His mind was

Never requir'd such distance. Pray Heaven,
You have not left yourself, and sought this safety
More out of fear than honour! You have lost
A noble master; which your faith, Melantius,
Some think, might have preserv'd: Yet you
know best.

Cal. When time was, I was mad; some, that dares fight,

I hope will pay this rascal.

Mel. Royal young man, whose tears look love-
ly on thee,

Had they been shed for a deserving one,
They had been lasting monuments! Thy brother,
While he was good, I call'd him king; and serv'd

him

With that strong faith, that most unwearied valour,

Pull'd people from the farthest sun to seek him,
And beg his friendship. I was then his soldier.
But since his hot pride drew him to disgrace me,
(That never-cur'd dishonour of my sister,
And brand my noble actions with his lust
Base stain of whore! and, which is worse,
The joy to make it still so), like myself,
Thus I have flung him off with my allegiance;
And stand here mine own justice, to revenge
What I have suffer'd in him; and this old man,
Wronged almost to lunacy.

Cal. Who I?

You would draw me in. I have had no wrong, I do disclaim ye all.

Mel. The short is this:

'Tis no ambition to lift up myself

Asp. This is most strange. Art thou gold-proof? There's for thee; help me to him.

Ser. Pray be not angry, sir. I'll do my best. [Exit.

Asp. How stubbornly this fellow answer'd me! There is a vile dishonest trick in man, More than in women: All the men I meet Appear thus to me, are all harsh and rude; And have a subtilty in every thing,

Which love could never know. But we fond women

Harbour the easiest and the smoothest thoughts, And think, all shall go so! It is unjust,

Unto the wrong'd Amintor! Let me kiss
That hand of thine, in honour that I bear
Unto the wrong'd Aspatia. Here I stand,
That did it: 'Would he could not! Gentle youth,
Leave me; for there is something in thy looks,
That calls my sins, in a most hideous form,
Into my mind; and I have grief enough
Without thy help.

Asp. I would I could with credit.
Since I was twelve years old, I had not seen
My sister till this hour; I now arriv'd:
She sent for me to see her marriage;
A woeful one! But they, that are above,
Have ends in every thing. She us’d few words;
But yet enough to make me understand
The baseness of the injuries you did her.
That little training I have had, is war:
I may behave myself rudely in peace;
I would not, though. I shall not need to tell you,
I am but young, and would be loth to lose
Honour, that is not easily gain'd again.
Fairly I mean to deal: The age is strict
For single combats; and we shall be stopp'd,
If it be published. If you like your sword,
Use it if mine appear a better to you,
Change; for the ground is this, and this the time
To end our difference.

Amin. Charitable youth,

(If thou be'st such) think not I will maintain
So strange a wrong: And, for thy sister's sake,
Know, that I could not think that desperate thing
I durst not do; yet, to enjoy this world
I would not see her; for, beholding thee,
I am I know not what. If I have aught,
That may content thee, take it, and be gone;
For death is not so terrible as thou.
Thine eyes shoot guilt into me.