The Maids Tragedy. John FletcherЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
[Enter Amintor.
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.
[Enter Messenger.
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.
[Exit.
Enter Calianax with Diagoras.
Cal. Diagoras, look to the doors better for shame, you let in all the world, and anon the King will rail at me; why very well said, by Jove the King will have the show i'th' Court.
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.
Cal. One may wear his heart out with swearing, and get thanks on no side, I'le be gone, look to't who will.
Diag. My Lord, I will never keep them out. Pray stay, your looks will terrifie them.
Cal. My looks terrifie them, you Coxcombly Ass you! I'le be judg'd by all the company whether thou hast not a worse face than I—
Diag. I mean, because they know you and your Office.
Cal. Office! I would I could put it off, I am sure I sweat quite through my Office, I might have made room at my Daughters Wedding, they had near kill'd her among them. And now I must do service for him that hath forsaken her; serve that will. [Exit Calianax.
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. [Enter Melantius.
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.
Diag. Stand back there, room for my Lord Melantius, pray bear back, this is no place for such youths and their Truls, let the doors shut agen; I, do your heads itch? I'le scratch them for you: so now thrust and hang: again, who is't now? I cannot blame my Lord Calianax for going away; would he were here, he would run raging among them, and break a dozen wiser heads than his own in the twinkling of an eye: what's the news now?
[Within.
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?
Mel. Melantius within. Enter Calianax to Melantius.
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.
Cal. Yes, I do service for your Sister here, That brings my own poor Child to timeless death; She loves your friend Amintor, such another false-hearted Lord as you.
Mel. You do me wrong, A most unmanly one, and I am slow In taking vengeance, but be well advis'd.
Cal. It may be so: who placed the Lady there so near the presence of the King?
Mel. I did.
Cal. My Lord she must not sit there.
Mel. Why?
Cal. The place is kept for women of more worth. Mel. More worth than she? it mis-becomes your Age And place to be thus womanish; forbear; What you have spoke, I am content to think The Palsey shook your tongue to.
Cal. Why 'tis well if I stand here to place mens wenches.
Mel. I shall forget this place, thy Age, my safety, and through all, cut that poor sickly week thou hast to live, away from thee.
Cal. Nay, I know you can fight for your Whore.
Mel. Bate the King, and be he flesh and blood, He lyes that saies it, thy mother at fifteen Was black and sinful to her.
Diag. Good my Lord!
Mel. Some god pluck threescore years from that fond man, That I may kill him, and not stain mine honour; It is the curse of Souldiers, that in peace They shall be brain'd by such ignoble men, As (if the Land were troubled) would with tears And knees beg succour from 'em: would that blood (That sea of blood) that I have lost in fight, Were running in thy veins, that it might make thee Apt to say less, or able to maintain, Shouldst thou say more—This Rhodes I see is nought But a place priviledg'd to do men wrong.
Cal. I, you may say your pleasure.
[Enter Amintor.
Amint. What vilde injury Has stirr'd my worthy friend, who is as slow To fight with words, as he is quick of hand?
Mel. That heap of age which I should reverence If it were temperate: but testy years Are most contemptible.
Amint. Good Sir forbear.
Cal. There is just such another as your self.
Amint. He will