The Maids Tragedy Part 15

_Evad_. The G.o.ds are not of my mind; they had better let 'em lie sweet still in the earth; they'l stink here.

_Mel_. Do you raise mirth out of my easiness?

Forsake me then all weaknesses of Nature, That make men women: Speak you wh.o.r.e, speak truth, Or by the dear soul of thy sleeping Father, This sword shall be thy lover: tell, or I'le kill thee: And when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it.

_Evad_. You will not murder me!

_Mel_. No, 'tis a justice, and a n.o.ble one, To put the light out of such base offenders.

_Evad_. Help!

_Mel_. By thy foul self, no humane help shall help thee, If thou criest: when I have kill'd thee, as I have Vow'd to do, if thou confess not, naked as thou hast left Thine honour, will I leave thee, That on thy branded flesh the world may read Thy black shame, and my justice; wilt thou bend yet?

_Evad_. Yes.

_Mel_. Up and begin your story.

_Evad_. Oh I am miserable.

_Mel_. 'Tis true, thou art, speak truth still.

_Evad_. I have offended, n.o.ble Sir: forgive me.

_Mel_. With what secure slave?

_Evad_. Do not ask me Sir.

Mine own remembrance is a misery too mightie for me.

_Mel_. Do not fall back again; my sword's unsheath'd yet.

_Evad_. What shall I do?

_Mel_. Be true, and make your fault less.

_Evad_. I dare not tell.

_Mel_. Tell, or I'le be this day a killing thee.

_Evad_. Will you forgive me then?

_Mel_. Stay, I must ask mine honour first, I have too much foolish nature in me; speak.

_Evad_. Is there none else here?

_Mel_. None but a fearful conscience, that's too many. Who is't?

_Evad_. O hear me gently; it was the King.

_Mel_. No more. My worthy father's and my services Are liberally rewarded! King, I thank thee, For all my dangers and my wounds, thou hast paid me In my own metal: These are Souldiers thanks.

How long have you liv'd thus _Evadne_?

_Evad_. Too long.

_Mel_. Too late you find it: can you be sorry?

_Evad_. Would I were half as blameless.

_Mel_. _Evadne_, thou wilt to thy trade again.

_Evad_. First to my grave.

_Mel_. Would G.o.ds th'hadst been so blest: Dost thou not hate this King now? prethee hate him: Couldst thou not curse him? I command thee curse him, Curse till the G.o.ds hear, and deliver him To thy just wishes: yet I fear _Evadne_; You had rather play your game out.

_Evad_. No, I feel Too many sad confusions here to let in any loose flame hereafter.

_Mel_. Dost thou not feel amongst all those one brave anger That breaks out n.o.bly, and directs thine arm to kill this base King?

_Evad_. All the G.o.ds forbid it.

_Mel_. No, all the G.o.ds require it, they are dishonoured in him.

_Evad_. 'Tis too fearful.

_Mel_. Y'are valiant in his bed, and bold enough To be a stale wh.o.r.e, and have your Madams name Discourse for Grooms and Pages, and hereafter When his cool Majestie hath laid you by, To be at pension with some needy Sir For meat and courser clothes, thus far you know no fear.

Come, you shall kill him.

_Evad_. Good Sir!

_Mel_. And 'twere to kiss him dead, thou'd smother him; Be wise and kill him: Canst thou live and know What n.o.ble minds shall make thee see thy self Found out with every finger, made the shame Of all successions, and in this great ruine Thy brother and thy n.o.ble husband broken?

Thou shalt not live thus; kneel and swear to help me When I shall call thee to it, or by all Holy in heaven and earth, thou shalt not live To breath a full hour longer, not a thought: Come 'tis a righteous oath; give me thy hand, And both to heaven held up, swear by that wealth This l.u.s.tful thief stole from thee, when I say it, To let his foul soul out.

_Evad_. Here I swear it, And all you spirits of abused Ladies Help me in this performance.

_Mel_. Enough; this must be known to none But you and I _Evadne_; not to your Lord, Though he be wise and n.o.ble, and a fellow Dares step as far into a worthy action, As the most daring, I as far as Justice.

Ask me not why. Farewell.

[_Exit Mel_.

_Evad_. Would I could say so to my black disgrace.

Oh where have I been all this time! how friended, That I should lose my self thus desperately, And none for pity shew me how I wandred?

There is not in the compa.s.s of the light A more unhappy creature: sure I am monstrous, For I have done those follies, those mad mischiefs, Would dare a woman. O my loaden soul, Be not so cruel to me, choak not up

[_Enter Amintor_.

The way to my repentance. O my Lord.

_Amin_. How now?