The Maids Tragedy | Page 3

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 wrong you, or me, or any man, And talk as if he had no life to lose Since this our match: the King is coming in, I would not for more wealth than I enjoy, He should perceive you raging, he did hear You were at difference now, which hastned him.
Cal. Make room there.
Hoboyes play within.
_Enter King, Evadne, Aspatia, Lords and Ladies_.
King. Melantius, thou art welcome, and my love Is with thee still; but this is not a place To brabble in; Calianax, joyn hands.
Cal. He shall not have my hand.
King. This is no time To force you to't, I do love you both: Calianax, you look well to your Office; And you Melantius are welcome home; begin the Mask.
Mel. Sister, I joy to see you, and your choice, You lookt with my eyes when you took that man; Be happy in him.
[Recorders.
Evad. O my dearest brother! Your presence is more joyful than this day can be unto me.
The Mask.
Night rises in mists.
Nigh. Our raign is come; for in the raging Sea The Sun is drown'd, and with him fell the day: Bright Cinthia hear my voice, I am the Night For whom thou bear'st about thy borrowed light; Appear, no longer