Act 3 — [Scene II.][3370]

Mel. I ’ll know the cause of all Amintor’s griefs, Or friendship shall be idle.

Cal. Oh, Melantius, My daughter will die! Mel. Trust me, I am sorry: Would thou hadst ta’en her room! Cal. Thou art a slave, A cut-throat slave, a bloody treacherous slave!5 Mel. Take heed, old man; thou wilt be heard to rave, And lose thine offices. Cal. I am valiant grown At all these years, and thou art but a slave! Mel. Leave! Some company will come, and I respect10 Thy years, not thee, so much, that I could wish To laugh at thee alone. Cal. I ’ll spoil your mirth: I mean to fight with thee. There lie, my cloak. This was my father’s sword, and he durst fight. Are you prepar’d? Mel. Why wilt thou dote thyself15 Out of thy life? Hence, get thee to bed, Have careful looking-to, and eat warm things, And trouble not me: my head is full of thoughts More weighty than thy life or death can be. Cal. You have a name in war, where you stand safe20 Amongst a multitude; but I will try What you dare do unto a weak old man In single fight. You will give ground, I fear. Come, draw. Mel. I will not draw, unless thou pull’st thy death25 Upon thee with a stroke. There ’s no one blow, That thou canst give hath strength enough to kill me. Tempt me not so far, then: the power of earth Shall not redeem thee. Cal. [Aside.] I must let him alone; He ’s stout and able; and, to say the truth,30 However I may set a face and talk, I am not valiant. When I was a youth, I kept my credit with a testy trick I had ’mongst cowards, but durst never fight. Mel. I will not promise to preserve your life, If you do stay. Cal. [Aside.] I would give half my land36 That I durst fight with that proud man a little. If I had men to hold him, I would beat him Till he askt me mercy. Mel. Sir, will you be gone? Cal. [Aside.] I dare not stay; but I will go home, and beat40 My servants all over for this. Exit. Mel. This old fellow haunts me. But the distracted carriage of mine Amintor Takes deeply on me.[3371] I will find the cause:44 I fear his conscience cries, he wrong’d Aspatia.

Amin. [Aside.] Men’s eyes are not so subtle to perceive My inward misery: I bear my grief Hid from the world. How art thou wretched then? For aught I know, all husbands are like me; And every one I talk with of his wife50 Is but a well dissembler of his woes, As I am. Would I knew it! for the rareness Afflicts me now.

Mel. I have observ’d your words fall from your tongue65 Wildly; and all your carriage Like one that strove to shew his merry mood, When he were ill dispos’d. You were not wont To put such scorn into your speech, or wear Upon your face ridiculous jollity.70 Some sadness sits here, which your cunning would Cover o’er with smiles, and ’t will not be. What is it? Amin. A sadness here! What cause Can fate provide for me to make me so?74 Am I not lov’d through all this isle? The King Rains greatness on me. Have I not received A lady to my bed, that in her eye Keeps mounting fire, and on her tender cheeks Inevitable[3372] colour, in her heart A prison for all virtue? Are not you,80 Which is above all joys, my constant friend? What sadness can I have? No; I am light, And feel the courses of my blood more warm And stirring than they were. Faith, marry too; And you will feel so unexprest a joy85 In chaste embraces, that you will indeed Appear another. Mel. You may shape, Amintor, Causes to cozen the whole world withal, And you yourself too: but ’t is not like a friend To hide your soul from me. ’T is not your nature90 To be thus idle. I have seen you stand As you were blasted ’midst of all your mirth; Call thrice aloud, and then start, feigning joy So coldly!—World, what do I here? A friend Is nothing. Heaven, I would ha’ told that man My secret sins! I ’ll search an unknown land,96 And there plant friendship; all is withered here. Come with a compliment! I would have fought, Or told my friend ’a lied, ere sooth’d[3373] him so.— Out of my bosom!100 Amin. But there is nothing. Mel. Worse and worse! farewell: From this time have acquaintance, but no friend. Amin. Melantius, stay: you shall know what that is. Mel. See how you play’d with friendship! Be advis’d How you give cause unto yourself to say105 You ha’ lost a friend. Amin. Forgive what I ha’ done; For I am so o’ergone with injuries Unheard of, that I lose consideration Of what I ought to do. Oh, oh! Mel. Do not weep. What is ’t? May I once but know the man110 Hath turn’d my friend thus! Amin. I had spoke at first. But that—— Mel. But what? Amin. I held it most unfit For you to know. Faith, do not know it yet. Mel. Thou see’st my love, that will keep company114 With thee in tears; hide nothing, then, from me; For when I know the cause of thy distemper, With mine old armour I ’ll adorn myself, My resolution, and cut through thy foes, Unto thy quiet, till I place thy heart As peaceable as spotless innocence.120 What is it? Amin. Why, ’tis this——it is too big To get out——let my tears make way awhile. Mel. Punish me strangely, Heaven, if he escape Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this! Amin. Your sister—— Mel. Well said. Amin. You will wish ’t unknown,125 When you have heard it. Mel. No. Amin. Is much to blame, And to the King has given her honour up, And lives in whoredom with him. Mel. How’s this? Thou art run mad with injury indeed; Thou couldst not utter this else. Speak again; For I forgive it freely; tell thy griefs.131 Amin. She’s wanton: I am loth to say, a whore, Though it be true. Mel. Speak yet again, before mine anger grow Up beyond throwing down. What are thy griefs?135 Amin. By all our friendship, these. Mel. What, am I tame? After mine actions, shall the name of friend Blot all our family, and strike the brand Of whore upon my sister, unreveng’d? My shaking flesh, be thou a witness for me,140 With what unwillingness I go to scourge This railer, whom my folly hath call’d friend? I will not take thee basely: thy sword143 [Draws his sword.] Hangs near thy hand: draw it, that I may whip Thy rashness to repentance; draw thy sword! Amin. Not on thee, did thine anger go as high As the wild surges. Thou shouldst do me ease Here and eternally, if thy noble hand Would cut me from my sorrows. Mel. This is base And fearful.[3374] They that use to utter lies150 Provide not blows but words to qualify[3375] The men they wrong’d. Thou hast a guilty cause. Amin. Thou pleasest me; for so much more like this Will raise my anger up above my griefs, (Which is a passion easier to be borne,)155 And I shall then be happy. Mel. Take, then, more To raise thine anger: ’tis mere cowardice Makes thee not draw; and I will leave thee dead, However. But if thou art so much prest With guilt and fear as not to dare to fight,160 I’ll make thy memory loath’d, and fix a scandal Upon thy name forever. Amin. [drawing his sword.] Then I draw, As justly as our magistrates their swords To cut offenders off. I knew before ’T would grate your ears; but it was base in you To urge a weighty secret from your friend,166 And then rage at it. I shall be at ease, If I be kill’d; and, if you fall by me, I shall not long outlive you. Mel. Stay awhile.— The name of friend is more than family,170 Or all the world besides: I was a fool. Thou searching human nature, that didst wake To do me wrong, thou art inquisitive,173 And thrusts me upon questions that will take My sleep away! Would I had died, ere known This sad dishonour!—Pardon me, my friend! [Sheaths his sword.] If thou wilt strike, here is a faithful heart; Pierce it, for I will never heave my hand To thine. Behold the power thou hast in me! I do believe my sister is a whore,180 A leprous one. Put up thy sword, young man. Amin. How should I bear it, then, she being so? I fear, my friend, that you will lose me shortly; [Sheaths his sword.] And I shall do a foul act on myself, Through these disgraces. Mel. Better half the land185 Were buried quick[3376] together. No, Amintor; Thou shalt have ease. Oh, this adulterous King, That drew her to ’t! Where got he the spirit To wrong me so? Amin. What is it, then, to me, If it be wrong to you? Mel. Why, not so much.190 The credit of our house is thrown away. But from his iron den I’ll waken Death, And hurl him on this King. My honesty Shall steel my sword: and on its horrid point I’ll wear my cause, that shall amaze the eyes Of this proud man, and be too glitt’ring196 For him to look on. Amin. I have quite undone my fame. Mel. Dry up thy watery eyes, And cast a manly look upon my face;200 For nothing is so wild as I, thy friend, Till I have freed thee. Still this swelling breast. I go thus from thee, and will never cease My vengeance till I find thy heart at peace. Amin. It must not be so. Stay. Mine eyes would tell205 How loth I am to this; but, love and tears, Leave me awhile! for I have hazarded All that this world calls happy.—Thou hast wrought A secret from me, under name of friend, Which art could ne’er have found, nor torture wrung210 From out my bosom. Give it me again; For I will find it, wheresoe’er it lies, Hid in the mortal’st part. Invent a way To give it back. Mel. Why would you have it back? I will to death pursue him with revenge,215 Amin. Therefore I call it back from thee; for I know Thy blood so high, that thou wilt stir in this, And shame me to posterity. Take to thy weapon! [Draws his sword.] Mel. Hear thy friend, that bears more years than thou. Amin. I will not hear: but draw, or I—— Mel. Amintor!220 Amin. Draw, then; for I am full as resolute As fame and honour can enforce me be: I cannot linger. Draw! Mel. I do. But is not My share of credit equal with thine, It I do stir? Amin. No; for it will be call’d225 Honour in thee to spill thy sister’s blood, If she her birth abuse; and, on the King A brave revenge: but on me, that have walkt With patience in it, it will fix the name Of fearful cuckold. Oh, that word! Be quick. Mel. Then, join with me. Amin. I dare not do a sin,231 Or else I would. Be speedy. Mel. Then, dare not fight with me; for that’s a sin.— His grief distracts him.—Call thy thoughts again,234 And to thyself pronounce the name of friend, And see what that will work. I will not fight. Amin. You must. Mel. [sheathing his sword.] I will be kill’d first. Though my passions Offered the like to you, ’t is not this earth Shall buy my reason to it. Think awhile,240 For you are (I must weep when I speak that) Almost besides yourself. Amin. [sheathing his sword.] Oh, my soft temper! So many sweet words from thy sister’s mouth, I am afraid would make me take her to245 Embrace, and pardon her. I am mad indeed, And know not what I do. Yet, have a care Of me in what thou dost. Mel. Why, thinks my friend I will forget his honour? or, to save The bravery of our house, will lose his fame,250 And fear to touch the throne of majesty? Amin. A curse will follow that; but rather live And suffer with me. Mel. I will do what worth Shall bid me, and no more. Amin. Faith, I am sick, And desperately I hope; yet, leaning thus,255 I feel a kind of ease. Mel. Come, take again Your mirth about you. Amin. I shall never do ’t. Mel. I warrant you; look up; we’ll walk together; Put thine arm here; all shall be well again. Amin. Thy love (oh, wretched!) ay, thy love Melantius;260 Why, I have nothing else. Mel. Be merry, then. Exeunt.

Mel. This worthy young man may do violence Upon himself; but I have cherisht him To my best power, and sent him smiling from me, To counterfeit again. Sword, hold thine edge; My heart will never fail me. Enter Diphilus. Diphilus!266 Thou com’st as sent. Diph. Yonder has been such laughing. Mel. Betwixt whom? Diph. Why, our sister and the King. I thought their spleens would break; they laught us all Out of the room.270 Mel. They must weep, Diphilus. Diph. Must they? Mel. They must. Thou art my brother; and, if I did believe Thou hadst a base thought, I would rip it out, Lie where it durst. Diph. You should not; I would first Mangle myself and find it. Mel. That was spoke275 According to our strain.[3377] Come, join thy hands to mine, And swear a firmness to what project I Shall lay before thee. Diph. You do wrong us both. People hereafter shall not say there past A bond, more than our loves, to tie our lives And deaths together.281 Mel. It is as nobly said as I would wish. Anon I’ll tell you wonders: we are wrong’d. Diph. But I will tell you now, we’ll right ourselves. Mel. Stay not: prepare the armour in my house;285 And what friends you can draw unto our side, Not knowing of the cause, make ready too. Haste, Diphilus, the time requires it, haste!— Exit Diphilus. I hope my cause is just; I know my blood Tells me it is; and I will credit it.290 To take revenge, and lose myself withal, Were idle; and to scape impossible, Without I had the fort, which (misery!) Remaining in the hands of my old enemy Calianax——but I must have it. See295 Re-enter Calianax. Where he comes shaking by me!—Good my lord, Forget your spleen to me. I never wrong’d you, But would have peace with every man. Cal. ’T is well; If I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet. Mel. You’re touchy without all cause. Cal. Do, mock me.200 Mel. By mine honour, I speak truth. Cal. Honour! where is ’t? Mel. See, what starts you make Into your idle hatred, to my love And freedom to you. I come with resolution To obtain a suit of you. Cal. A suit of me!205 ’T is very like it should be granted, sir. Mel. Nay, go not hence. ’T is this; you have the keeping of the fort, And I would wish you, by the love you ought To bear unto me, to deliver it310 Into my hands. Cal. I am in hope thou art mad, To talk to me thus. Mel. But there is a reason To move you to it: I would kill the King, That wrong’d you and your daughter. Cal. Out, traitor! Mel. Nay, but stay: I cannot scape, the deed once done,315 Without I have this fort. Cal. And should I help thee? Now thy treacherous mind betrays itself. Mel. Come, delay me not; Give me a sudden answer, or already Thy last is spoke! Refuse not offered love320 When it comes clad in secrets. Cal. [Aside.] If I say I will not, he will kill me; I do see ’t Writ in his looks; and should I say I will, He ’ll run and tell the King.—I do not shun Your friendship, dear Melantius; but this cause Is weighty: give me but an hour to think.326 Mel. Take it.—[Aside.] I know this goes unto the King; But I am arm’d. Exit. Cal. Methinks I feel myself But twenty now again. This fighting fool Wants policy: I shall revenge my girl,330 And make her red again. I pray my legs Will last that pace that I will carry them: I shall want breath before I find the King. Exit.