Page images

Lest I were cozen'd; and be sure to fight, Black is thy colour now, disease thy nature. Ere I returned.

Joy to Amintor! Thou hast touch'd a life, Amin. That must not be with me.

The very name of which had pow'r to chain For her I'll die directly; but against her Up all my rage, and calm my wildest wrongs. Will never hazard it.

Evad. "Tis done; and since I could not find a way Asp. You must be urg'd.

To meet thy love so clear as through his life, I do not deal uncivilly with those,

I cannot now repent it. That dare to fight; but such a one as you Amin. Couldst thou procure the gods to speak Must be us'd thus.

(She strikes him.

to me, Amin. I prithee, youth, take heed.

To bid me love this woman, and forgive, Thy sister is a thing to me so much

I think I should fall out with them, Behold, Above mine honour, that I can endure

Here lies a youth, whose wounds bleed in my All this. Good gods ! a blow I can endure !

breast, But stay not, lest thou draw a timeless death Sent by his violent fate, to fetch his death Upon thyself.

From my slow hand: And, to augment my woe, *Asp. Thou art some prating fellow;

You now are present, stain'd with a king's blood, One, that hath studied out a trick to talk, Violently shed. This keeps night here, And move soft-hearted people; to be kick'd And throws an unknown wilderness about me.

[She kicks him. Asp. Oh, oh, oh! Thus, to be kick'd!.«Why should he be so slow Amin. No more; pursue me not. In giving me my death?

[Aside. Evad. Forgive me then, and take me to thy bed. Amin. A man can bear


may not part. No more, and keep his flesh. Forgive me then! Amin. Forbear! Be wise, and let my rage I would endure yet, if I could. Now shew Go this

way. The spirit thou pretend'st, and understand, Evad. 'Í'is you, that I would stay, not it. Thou hast no hour to live.- [They fight. Amin. Take heed; it will return with me. What dost thou mean?

Evad. If it must be, I shall not fear to meet it: Thou canst not fight: The blows thou mak'st at me Take me home. Are quite besides ; and those, I offer at thee, Amin. Thou monster of cruelty, forbear! Thou spread'st thine arms, and tak’st upon thy Evad. For heaven's sake, look more calm: breast,

Thine eyes are sharper than thou canst make thy Alas, defenceless !

sword. Asp. I have got enough,

Amin. Away, away!
And my desire. There is no place so fit Thy knees are more to me than violence.
For me to die as here.

I'm worse than sick to see knees follow me,

For that I must not grant. For heaven's sake, stand. Enter EVADNE, her hands bloody, with a knife.

Evad. Receive me, then. Evad. Amintor, I am loaden with events, Amin. I dare not stay thy language: That fly to make thee happy. I have joys, In midst of all my anger and my grief, That in a moment can call back thy wrongs, Thou dost awake something that troubles me, And settle thee in thy free state again.

And says, “I lov'd thee once. I dare not stay; It is Evadne still, that follows thee,

There is no end of woman's reasoning But not her mischiefs.

[Leaves her. Amin. Thou canst not fool me to believe again; Evad. Amintor, thou shalt love me now again : But thou hast looks and things so full of news, Go; I am caim. Farewell, and peace for ever! That I am stay'd.

Evadne, whom thou hat'st, will die for thee. Evad. Noble Amintor, put off thy amaze,

[Kills herself. Let thine eyes loose, and speak : Am I not fair ? Amin. I have a little human nature yet, Looks not Evadne beauteous, with these rites now? That's left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand. Were those hours half so lovely in thine eyes,

[Returns. When our hands met before the holy man? Evad. Thy hand was welcome, but it came too I was too foul within to look fair then :

late. Since I knew ill, I was not free till now. Oh, I am lost! the heavy sleep makes haste. Amin. There is presage of some important thing

[She dies. About thee, which, it seems, thy tongue hath lost. Asp. Oh, oh, oh! Thy hands are bloody, and thou hast a knife! Amin. This earth of mine doth tremble, and I Evad. In this consists thy happiness and mine.

feel Joy to Amintor! for the king is dead.

A stark affrighted motion in my blood: Amin. Those have most pow'r to hurt us, that My soul grows weary of her house, and I we love;

All over am a trouble to myself. We lay our sleeping lives within their arms ! There is some hidden pow'r in these dead things, Why, thou hast raised up mischief to his height, That calls my flesh unto 'em : I am cold: And found one, to out-name thy other faults. Be resolute, and bear 'em company. Thou hast no intermission of thy sins,

There's something, yet, which I am loth to leave. But all thy life is a continued ill.

There's man enough in me to meet the fears,


with me,

That death can bring; and yet, 'would it were No comfort comes; the gods deny me too! done!

I'll bow the body once again. Aspatia !I can find nothing in the whole discourse The soul is filed for ever; and I wrong Of death, I durst not meet the boldest way; Myself, so long to lose her company. Yet still, betwixt the reason and the act, Must I talk now? Here's to be with thee, love! The wrong ! to Aspatia did stands up :

[Kills himself. I have not such another fault to answer.

Enter Serdant. Though she may justly arm herself with scorn And hate of me, my soul will part less troubled, Sero. This is a great grace to my lord, to have When I have paid to her in tears my sorrow. the new king come to him: I must tell him he I will not leave this act unsatisfied,

is entering.-Oh, heaven! Help, help! If all that's left in me can answer it. Asp. Was it a dream? There stands Amintor Enter LYSIPPUS, MELANTIUS, CALIANAX, CLEstill ;

on, DIPHILUS, and Strato. Or I dream still.

Lys. Where's Amintor? Amin. How dost thou? Speak; receive my love Sero. Oh, there, there. and help.

Lys. How strange is this !
Thy blood climbs up to his old place again : Cal. What should we do here?
There's hope of thy recovery.

Mel. These deaths are such acquainted things
Asp. Did you not name Aspatia?
Amin. I did.

That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand Asp. And talk'd of tears and sorrow unto her ? Stiff here for ever! Eyes, call up your tears ! Amin. 'Tis true ; and 'till these happy signs in This is Amintor: Heart! he was my friend; thee

Melt; now it flows. Amintor, give a word
Did stay my course, 'twas thither I was going. To call me to thee.
Asp. Thou’rt there already, and these wounds Amin. Oh!
are hers:

Mel. Melantius calls his friend Amintor. Oh, Those threats, I brought with me, sought not re

thy arms venge ;

Are kinder to me than thy tongue! Speak, speak! But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand. Amin. What? I am Aspatia yet.

Mel. That little word was worth all the sounds,
Amin. Dare my soul ever look abroad again ? That ever I shall hear again
Asp. I shall surely live, Amintor, I am well :

Diph. Oh, brother !
A kind of healthful joy wanders within me. Here lies your sister slain ; you lose yourself

Amin. The world wants lives to excuse thy loss! In sorrow there.
Come, let me bear thee to some place of help. Mel. Why, Diphilus, it is

Asp. Amintor, thou must stay; I must rest here; A thing to laugh at in respect of this:
My strength begins to disobey my will.

Here was my sister, father, brother, son:
How dosť thou, my best soul? I would fain live All that I had! Speak once again : What youth
Now, if I could : Wouldst thou have lov'd me, Lies slain there by thee?
then ?

Amin. 'Tis Aspatia. Amin. Alas!

My last is said. Let me give up my soul All that I am's not worth a hair from thee.

Into thy bosom.

[Dies. Asp. Give me thy hand; my hands grope up Cal. What's that? what's that? Aspatia! and down,

Mel. I never did And cannot find thee: I am wondrous sick :

Repent the greatness of my heart till now: Have I thy hand, Amintor?

It will not burst at need. Amin. Thou greatest blessing of the world, Cal. My daughter dead here too! And you thou hast.

have all fine new tricks to grieve ; but I ne'er Asp. I do believe thee better than my sense. knew any but direct crying. Oh!'I must go. Farewell!

(Dies. Mel. I am a prattler ; but no more. Amin. She swoons ! Aspatia! Help! for hea

[Offers to kill himself. ven's sake, water!

Diph: Hold, brother. Such as may chain life ever to this frame.

Lys. Stop him. Aspatia, speak! What, no help yet? I fool! Diph. Fie? how unmanly was this offer in you; I'll chafe her temples: Yet there's nothing stirs ; Does this become our strain? Some hidden power tell her, Amintor calls, Cal. I know not what the matter is, but I am And let her answer me! Aspatia, speak ! grown very kind, and am friends with you. You I've heard, if there be any life, but bow

have given me that among you, will kill me quickThe body thus, and it will shew itself.

ly; but I'll go home, and live as long as I can. Oh, she is gone! I will not leave her yet.

Mel. His spirit is but poor, that can be kept Since out of justice we must challenge nothing, From death for want of weapons. I'll call it mercy, if you'll pity me,

Is not my hand a weapon sharp enough Ye heav'nly powers! and lend, for some few years,

if you tie down those, The blessed soul to this fair seat again.

I vow, Amintor, I will never eat,

[ocr errors]

To stop my.

breath? or,

Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that, Unlooked-for, sudden deaths from heaven are That may preserve life! This I swear to keep.

sent; Lys. Look to him tho', and bear those bodies in. But curst is he, that is their instrument. May this a fair example be to me,

(Ereunt omnes. To rule with temper: For, on lustful kings,

[blocks in formation]

If not for virtue's sake, you may be honest : SCENE I.

There have been great ones, good ones, and ’tis

necessary, Enter THEODORET, BRUNHALT, and BAWDBER. Because you are yourself, and by yourself,

Brun. Tax me with these hot taintures ? A self-piece from the touch of power and justice, Theod. You're too sudden;

You should command yourself. You may imagine I do but gently tell you what becomes you, (Which cozens all the world, but chiefly women) And what may bend your honour ; how these The name of greatness glorifies your actions ; courses,

And strong power, like a pent-house, promises Of loose and lazy pleasures, not suspected, To shade you from opinion: Take heed, mother! Butdone and known;your mind that grants nolimit,

And let us all take heed! these most abuse us : And all your actions follow, which loose people, The sins we do people behold through optics, That see but through a mist of circumstance, Which shew them ten times more than common Dare term ambitious; all your ways hide sores

vices, Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers. And often multiply them: Then what justice Your instruments like these may call the world, Dare we inflict upon the weak offenders, And with a fearful clamour, to examine

When we are thieves ourselves? Why, and to what we govern. From example, Brun. This is Martell,

make you


Studied and penn'd unto you ; whose base person, (Your most intemperate fires have burnt) and I charge you by the love you owe a mother,

quickly, And as you hope for blessings from her prayers, Within these ten days, take a monastery, Neither to give belief to, nor allowance ! A most strict house ; a house where none may Next, I tell you, sir, you, from whom obedience

whisper, Is so far fled that you dare tax a mother, Where no more light is known but what may Nay, further, brand her honour with your slanders, And break into the treasures of her credit, Believe there is a day; where no hope dwells, Your easiness is abused, your faith freighted Nor comfort but in tearsWith lies, malicious lies; your merchant mis- Brun. Oh, misery ! chief;

Theod. And there to cold repentance, and He that ne'er knew more trade than tales, and

starv'd penance, tumbling

Tie your succeeding days : Or curse me, Heaven, Suspicions into honest hearts: What you or he, If all your gilded knaves, brokers, and bedders, Or all the world, dare lay upon my worth, Even he you built from nothing, strong Protaldye, This for your poor opinions! I am she, Be not made ambling geldings ! all your maids, And so will bear myself, whose truth and whiteness If that name do not shame 'em, fed with spunges Shall ever stand as far from these detections To suck away their rankness! and yourself As you from duty. Get you better servants, Only to empty pictures and dead arras People of honest actions, without ends,

Offer your old desires ! And whip these knaves away! they eat your fa- Brun. I will not curse you, vours,

Nor lay a prophecy upon your pride, And turn 'em unto poisons. My known credit, Though Heav'n might grant me both; unthankful, Whom all the courts o’ this side Nile have envied, And happy she could cite me, brought in question, I nourish'd you; 'twas I, poor I, groan'd for you; Now in my hours of age and reverence,

'Twas I felt what you suffer'd; I lamented When rather superstition should be rendered ? When sickness or sad hours held back your And by a rush that one day's warmth

sweetness; Hath shot up to this swelling? Give me justice, \ 'Twas I pay'd for your sleeps ; I watch'd your Which is his life!

wakings; Theod. This is an impudence;

My daily cares and fears that rid, play'd, walk’d, And he must tell you, that 'till now, mother, Discours’d, discover'd, fed and fashion'd you Brought you a son's obedience, and now breaks it To what you are; and am I thus rewarded ? Above the sufferance of a son.

Theod. But that I know these tears, I could Baw, Bless us !

dote on 'em, For I do now begin to feel myself

And kneel to catch 'em as they fall, then knit 'em Tucking into a halter, and the ladder

Into an armlet, ever to be honour'd: Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too. But, woman, they are dangerous drops, deceitful, Theod. These truths are no man's tales, but Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature. all mens' troubles ;

Brun. In my last hours despis’d? They are, though your strange greatness would Theod. That text should tell out-stare 'em :

How ugly it becomes you to err thus : Witness the daily libels, almost ballads,

Your flames are spent, nothing but smoke mainIn every place almost, in every province, Are made upon your lust; tavern discourses ; And those your favour and your bounty suffers, Crowds cram'd' with whispers ; nay, the holy Lie not with you, they do but lay lust on you, temples

And then embrace you as they caught a palsy; Are not without your curses. Now you would Your power they may love, and like Spanish blush;

jennets But your black tainted blood dare not appear,

Commit with such a gustFor fear I should fright that too.

Baw. I would take whipping, Brun. Oh, ye gods !

And pay a fine now!

[Erit. Theod. Do not abuse their names ! they see Theod. But were you once disgrac'd, your actions :

Or fall’n in wealth, like leaves they would fly And your conceal d sins, though you work like moles,

And become browse for every beast. You will’d me Lie level to their justice.

To stock myself with better friends, and servants; Brun. Art thou a son ?

With what face dare you see me, or any mankind, Theod. The more my shame is of so bad a That keep a race of such unheard-of relics, mother,

Bawds, lechers, leeches, female fornications, And more your wretchedness you let me be so. And children in their rudiments to vices, But, woman, (for a mother's name hath left me, Old men to shew examples, and (lest Art Since you have left your honour) mend these Should lose herself in act) to call back Custom? ruins,

Leave these, and live like Niobe ! I told you how; And build again that broken fame; and fairly, And when your eyes have droptaway remembrance

tains you ;

from you,

« PreviousContinue »