The Maids Tragedy Part 7

_Evad_. Alas, I must have one To Father Children, and to bear the name Of Husband to me, that my sin may be more honourable.

_Amint_. What a strange thing am I!

_Evad_. A miserable one; one that my self am sorry for.

_Amint_. Why shew it then in this, If thou hast pity, though thy love be none, Kill me, and all true Lovers that shall live In after ages crost in their desires, Shall bless thy memory, and call thee good, Because such mercy in thy heart was found, To rid a lingring Wretch.

_Evad_. I must have one To fill thy room again, if thou wert dead, Else by this night I would: I pity thee.

_Amint_. These strange and sudden injuries have faln So thick upon me, that I lose all sense Of what they are: methinks I am not wrong'd, Nor is it ought, if from the censuring World I can but hide it--Reputation, Thou art a word, no more; but thou hast shown An impudence so high, that to the World I fear thou wilt betray or shame thy self.

_Evad_. To cover shame I took thee, never fear That I would blaze my self.

_Amint_. Nor let the King Know I conceive he wrongs me, then mine honour Will thrust me into action, that my flesh Could bear with patience; and it is some ease To me in these extreams, that I knew this Before I toucht thee; else had all the sins Of mankind stood betwixt me and the King, I had gone through 'em to his heart and thine.

I have lost one desire, 'tis not his crown Shall buy me to thy bed: now I resolve He has dishonour'd thee; give me thy hand, Be careful of thy credit, and sin close, 'Tis all I wish; upon thy Chamber-floore I'le rest to night, that morning visiters May think we did as married people use.

And prethee smile upon me when they come, And seem to toy, as if thou hadst been pleas'd With what we did.

_Evad_. Fear not, I will do this.

_Amint_. Come let us practise, and as wantonly As ever loving Bride and Bridegroom met, Lets laugh and enter here.

_Evad_. I am content.

_Amint_. Down all the swellings of my troubled heart.

When we walk thus intwin'd, let all eyes see If ever Lovers better did agree.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ Aspatia, Antiphila _and_ Olympias.

_Asp_. Away, you are not sad, force it no further; Good G.o.ds, how well you look! such a full colour Young bashful Brides put on: sure you are new married.

_Ant_. Yes Madam, to your grief.

_Asp_. Alas! poor Wenches.

Go learn to love first, learn to lose your selves, Learn to be flattered, and believe, and bless The double tongue that did it; Make a Faith out of the miracles of Ancient Lovers.

Did you ne're love yet Wenches? speak _Olympias_, Such as speak truth and dy'd in't, And like me believe all faithful, and be miserable; Thou hast an easie temper, fit for stamp.

_Olymp_. Never.

_Asp_. Nor you _Antiphila_?

_Ant_. Nor I.

_Asp_. Then my good Girles, be more than Women, wise.

At least be more than I was; and be sure you credit any thing the light gives light to, before a man; rather believe the Sea weeps for the ruin'd Merchant when he roars; rather the wind courts but the pregnant sails when the strong cordage cracks; rather the Sun comes but to kiss the Fruit in wealthy Autumn, when all falls blasted; if you needs must love (forc'd by ill fate) take to your maiden bosoms two dead cold aspicks, and of them make Lovers, they cannot flatter nor forswear; one kiss makes a long peace for all; but man, Oh that beast man!

Come lets be sad my Girles; That down cast of thine eye, _Olympias_, Shews a fine sorrow; mark _Antiphila_, Just such another was the Nymph _Oenone_, When _Paris_ brought home _Helen_: now a tear, And then thou art a piece expressing fully The _Carthage_ Queen, when from a cold Sea Rock, Full with her sorrow, she tyed fast her eyes To the fair _Trojan_ s.h.i.+ps, and having lost them, Just as thine eyes do, down stole a tear, _Antiphila_; What would this Wench do, if she were _Aspatia_?

Here she would stand, till some more pitying G.o.d Turn'd her to Marble: 'tis enough my Wench; Shew me the piece of Needle-work you wrought.

_Ant_. Of _Ariadne_, Madam?

_Asp_. Yes that piece.

This should be _Theseus_, h'as a cousening face, You meant him for a man.

_Ant_. He was so Madam.

_Asp_. Why then 'tis well enough, never look back, You have a full wind, and a false heart _Theseus_; Does not the story say, his Keel was split, Or his Masts spent, or some kind rock or other Met with his Vessel?

_Ant_. Not as I remember.

_Asp_. It should ha' been so; could the G.o.ds know this, And not of all their number raise a storm?

But they are all as ill. This false smile was well exprest; Just such another caught me; you shall not go so _Antiphila_, In this place work a quick-sand, And over it a shallow smiling Water.

And his s.h.i.+p ploughing it, and then a fear.

Do that fear to the life Wench.

_Ant_. 'Twill wrong the story.

_Asp_. 'Twill make the story wrong'd by wanton Poets Live long and be believ'd; but where's the Lady?

_Ant_. There Madam.

_Asp_. Fie, you have mist it here _Antiphila_, You are much mistaken Wench; These colours are not dull and pale enough, To shew a soul so full of misery As this sad Ladies was; do it by me, Do it again by me the lost _Aspatia_, And you shall find all true but the wild Island; I stand upon the Sea breach now, and think Mine arms thus, and mine hair blown with the wind, Wild as that desart, and let all about me Tell that I am forsaken, do my face

(If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow) Thus, thus, _Antiphila_ strive to make me look Like sorrows monument; and the trees about me, Let them be dry and leaveless; let the Rocks Groan with continual surges, and behind me Make all a desolation; look, look Wenches, A miserable life of this poor Picture.

_Olym_. Dear Madam!

_Asp_. I have done, sit down, and let us Upon that point fix all our eyes, that point there; Make a dull silence till you feel a sudden sadness Give us new souls.

[_Enter Calianax_.

_Cal_. The King may do this, and he may not do it; My child is wrong'd, disgrac'd: well, how now Huswives?

What at your ease? is this a time to sit still? up you young Lazie Wh.o.r.es, up or I'le sweng you.

_Olym_. Nay, good my Lord.

_Cal_. You'l lie down shortly, get you in and work; What are you grown so resty? you want ears, We shall have some of the Court boys do that Office.

_Ant_. My Lord we do no more than we are charg'd: It is the Ladies pleasure we be thus in grief; She is forsaken.

_Cal_. There's a Rogue too, A young dissembling slave; well, get you in, I'le have a bout with that boy; 'tis high time Now to be valiant; I confess my youth Was never p.r.o.ne that way: what, made an a.s.s?

A Court stale? well I will be valiant, And beat some dozen of these Whelps; I will; and there's Another of 'em, a trim cheating souldier, I'le maul that Rascal, h'as out-brav'd me twice; But now I thank the G.o.ds I am valiant; Go, get you in, I'le take a course with all.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.

_Actus Tertius_.