Act 5 — [Scene III.][3406]

Asp. This is my fatal hour. Heaven may forgive My rash attempt, that causelessly hath laid Griefs on me that will never let me rest, And put a woman’s heart into my breast. It is more honour for you that I die;5 For she that can endure the misery That I have on me, and be patient too, May live and laugh at all that you can do. Enter Servant. God save you, sir! Ser. And you, sir! What ’s your business? Asp. With you, sir, now; to do me the fair office10 To help me to your lord. Ser. What, would you serve him? Asp. I ’ll do him any service; but, to haste, For my affairs are earnest, I desire To speak with him. Ser. Sir, because you are in such haste, I would15 Be loth delay you longer: you can not. Asp. It shall become you, though, to tell your lord. Ser. Sir, he will speak with nobody; [But in particular, I have in charge, About no weighty matters.][3407] Asp. This is most strange.20 Art thou gold-proof? There ’s for thee; help me to him. [Gives money.] Ser. Pray be not angry, sir: I ’ll do my best. Exit. Asp. How stubbornly this fellow answer’d me! There is a vile dishonest trick in man, More than in women. All the men I meet25 Appear thus to me, are harsh and rude, And have a subtilty in every thing, Which love could never know; but we fond women Harbour the easiest and the smoothest thoughts. And think all shall go so. It is unjust30 That men and women should be matcht together.

Amin. Where is he? Ser. There, my lord. Amin. What would you, sir? Asp. Please it your lordship to command your man Out of the room, I shall deliver things Worthy your hearing. Amin. Leave us. [Exit Servant.] Asp. (Aside.) Oh, that that shape35 Should bury falsehood in it! Amin. Now your will, sir. Asp. When you know me, my lord, you needs must guess My business; and I am not hard to know; For, till the chance of war markt this smooth face With these few blemishes, people would call me40 My sister’s picture, and her mine. In short, I am brother to the wrong’d Aspatia. Amin. The wrong’d Aspatia! Would thou wert so too Unto the wrong’d Amintor! Let me kiss That hand of thine, in honour that I bear45 Unto the wrong’d Aspatia. Here I stand That did it. Would he could not! Gentle youth, Leave me; for there is something in thy looks That calls my sins in a most hideous form Into my mind; and I have grief enough50 Without thy help. Asp. I would I could with credit! Since I was twelve years old, I had not seen My sister till this hour I now arriv’d: She sent for me to see her marriage,— A woful one! but they that are above55 Have ends in everything. She us’d few words, But yet enough to make me understand The baseness of the injuries you did her. That little training I have had is war: I may behave myself rudely in peace;60 I would not, though. I shall not need to tell you I am but young, and would be loth to lose Honour, that is not easily gain’d again. Fairly I mean to deal: the age is strict For single combats; and we shall be stopt,65 If it be publisht. If you like your sword, Use it; if mine appear a better to you, Change; for the ground is this, and this the time, To end our difference. [Draws.] Amin. Charitable youth, If thou be’st such, think not I will maintain70 So strange a wrong: and, for thy sister’s sake, Know, that I could not think that desperate thing I durst not do; yet, to enjoy this world. I would not see her; for, beholding thee, I am I know not what. If I have aught75 That may content thee, take it, and begone. For death is not so terrible as thou; Thine eyes shoot guilt into me. Asp. Thus, she swore, Thou wouldst behave thyself, and give me words That would fetch tears into my eyes; and so80 Thou dost indeed. But yet she bade me watch Lest I were cozen’d; and be sure to fight Ere I return’d. Amin. That must not be with me. For her I ’ll die directly; but against her Will never hazard it. Asp. You must be urg’d.85 I do not deal uncivilly with those That dare to fight; but such a one as you Must be us’d thus. She strikes him. Amin. I prithee, youth, take heed. Thy sister is a thing to me so much90 Above mine honour, that I can endure All this—Good gods! a blow I can endure; But stay not, lest thou draw a timeless [3408] death Upon thyself. Asp. Thou art some prating fellow; One that hath studied out a trick to talk,95 And move soft hearted people; to be kickt. She kicks him. Thus to be kickt.—(Aside.) Why should he be so slow In giving me my death? Amin. A man can bear No more, and keep his flesh. Forgive me, then! I would endure yet, if I could. Now show [Draws.]100 The spirit thou pretend’st, and understand Thou hast no hour to live. They fight; [Aspatia is wounded.] What dost thou mean? Thou canst not fight: the blows thou mak’st at me Are quite besides; and those I offer at thee, Thou spread’st thine arms, and tak’st upon thy breast,105 Alas, defenceless! Asp. I have got enough. And my desire. There is no place so fit For me to die as here. [Falls.]

Evad. Amintor, I am loaden with events, That fly to make thee happy; I have joys,110 That in a moment can call back thy wrongs, And settle thee in thy free state again. It is Evadne still that follows thee, But not her mischiefs.114 Amin. Thou canst not fool me to believe again; But thou hast looks and things so full of news, That I am stay’d. Evad. Noble Amintor, put off thy amaze, Let thine eyes loose, and speak. Am I not fair? Looks not Evadne beauteous with these rites now?120 Were those hours half so lovely in thine eyes When our hands met before the holy man? I was too foul inside to look fair then: Since I knew ill, I was not free till now. Amin. There is presage of some important thing125 About thee, which, it seems, thy tongue hath lost. Thy hands are bloody, and thou hast a knife. Evad. In this consists thy happiness and mine. Joy to Amintor! for the King is dead. Amin. Those have most power to hurt us, that we love;130 We lay our sleeping lives within their arms. Why, thou hast rais’d up mischief to his height, And found one to out-name[3409] thy other faults; Thou hast no intermission of thy sins But all thy life is a continued ill.135 Black is thy colour now, disease thy nature. Joy to Amintor! Thou hast toucht a life, The very name of which had power to chain Up all my rage, and calm my wildest wrongs. Evad. ’T is done; and, since I could not find a way140 To meet thy love so clear as through his life, I cannot now repent it. Amin. Couldst thou procure the gods to speak to me, To bid me love this woman and forgive,144 I think I should fall out with them. Behold, Here lies a youth whose wounds bleed in my breast, Sent by a violent fate to fetch his death From my slow hand! And, to augment my woe, You now are present, stain’d with a king’s blood Violently shed. This keeps night here,150 And throws an unknown wilderness[3410] about me. Asp. Oh, oh, oh! Amin. No more; pursue me not. Evad. Forgive me, then, And take me to thy bed: we may not part. [Kneels.] Amin. Forbear, be wise, and let my rage go this way.155 Evad. ’T is you that I would stay, not it. Amin. Take heed; It will return with me. Evad. If it must be, I shall not fear to meet it. Take me home. Amin. Thou monster of cruelty, forbear! Evad. For Heaven’s sake look more calm! Thine eyes are sharper160 Than thou canst make thy sword. Amin. Away, away! Thy knees are more to me than violence. I am worse than sick to see knees follow me For that I must not grant. For God’s sake, stand. Evad. Receive me, then. Amin. I dare not stay thy language.165 In midst of all my anger and my grief, Thou dost awake something that troubles me, And says, I lov’d thee once. I dare not stay; There is no end of woman’s reasoning. Leaves her. Evad. [rising.] Amintor, thou shalt love me now again.170 Go; I am calm. Farewell, and peace for ever! Evadne, whom thou hat’st, will die for thee. Stabs herself. Amin. (returning.) I have a little human nature yet, That ’s left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand. Evad. Thy hand was welcome, but it came too late.175 Oh, I am lost! the heavy sleep makes haste. She dies. Asp. Oh, oh, oh! Amin. This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feel A stark affrighted motion in my blood. My soul grows weary of her house, and I180 All over am a trouble to myself. There is some hidden power in these dead things, That calls my flesh unto ’em; I am cold. Be resolute and bear ’em company. There ’s something yet, which I am loth to leave:185 There ’s man enough in me to meet the fears That death can bring; and yet would it were done! I can find nothing in the whole discourse Of death, I durst not meet the boldest way; Yet still, betwixt the reason and the act,190 The wrong I to Aspatia did stands up; I have not such another fault to answer. Though she may justly arm herself with scorn And hate of me, my soul will part less troubled, When I have paid to her in tears my sorrow,195 I will not leave this act unsatisfied, If all that ’s left in me can answer it. Asp. Was it a dream? There stands Amintor still; Or I dream still. Amin. How dost thou? speak; receive my love and help.200 Thy blood climbs up to his old place again; There ’s hope of thy recovery. Asp. Did you not name Aspatia? Amin. I did. Asp. And talkt of tears and sorrow unto her? Amin. ’T is true; and, till these happy signs in thee205 Did stay my course, ’t was thither I was going. Asp. Thou art there already, and these wounds are hers. Those threats I brought with me sought not revenge, But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand: I am Aspatia yet.210 Amin. Dare my soul ever look abroad again? Asp. I shall sure live, Amintor; I am well; A kind of healthful joy wanders within me. Amin. The world wants lives to excuse thy loss;214 Come, let me bear thee to some place of help. Asp. Amintor, thou must stay; I must rest here; My strength begins to disobey my will. How dost thou, my best soul? I would fain live Now, if I could. Wouldst thou have lov’d me, then? Amin. Alas,220 All that I am ’s not worth a hair from thee! Asp. Give me thy hand; mine hands grope up and down. And cannot find thee; I am wondrous sick. Have I thy hand, Amintor? Amin. Thou greatest blessing of the world, thou hast.225 Asp. I do believe thee better than my sense. Oh, I must go! farewell! Dies. Amin. She swoons.[3411]—Aspatia!—Help! for God’s sake, water, Such as may chain life ever to this frame!— Aspatia, speak!—What, no help yet? I fool! I ’ll chafe her temples. Yet there ’s nothing stirs.231 Some hidden power tell her, Amintor calls, And let her answer me!—Aspatia, speak!— I have heard, if there be any life, but bow The body thus, and it will show itself.235 Oh, she is gone! I will not leave her yet. Since out of justice we must challenge nothing, I ’ll call it mercy, if you ’ll pity me, You heavenly powers, and lend for some few years The blessed soul to this fair seat again!240 No comfort comes; the gods deny me too. I ’ll bow the body once again.—Aspatia!— The soul is fled for ever; and I wrong Myself, so long to lose her company.244 Must I talk now? Here ’s to be with thee, love! Kills himself.

Lys. Where ’s Amintor? Stra. Oh, there, there! Lys. How strange is this! Cal. What should we do here?250 Mel. These deaths are such acquainted things with me, That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand Stiff here for ever!—Eyes, call up your tears! This is Amintor. Heart, he was my friend; Melt! now it flows.—Amintor, give a word255 To call me to thee. Amin. Oh! Mel. Melantius calls his friend Amintor. Oh, Thy arms are kinder to me than thy tongue! Speak, speak!260 Amin. What? Mel. That little word was worth all the sounds That ever I shall hear again. Diph. Oh, brother, Here lies your sister slain! You lose yourself In sorrow there. Mel. Why, Diphilus, it is265 A thing to laugh at, in respect of this. Here was my sister, father, brother, son; All that I had.—Speak once again; what youth Lies slain there by thee? Amin. ’T is Aspatia. My last is said. Let me give up my soul270 Into thy bosom. [Dies.] Cal. What ’s that? What ’s that? Aspatia! Mel. I never did Repent the greatness of my heart till now; It will not burst at need.274 Cal. My daughter dead here too! And you have all fine new tricks to grieve; but I ne’er knew any but direct crying. Mel. I am a prattler: but no more. [Offers to stab himself.] Diph. Hold, brother! Lys. Stop him. Diph. Fie, how unmanly was this offer in you!280 Does this become our strain?[3412]

Mel. His spirit is but poor that can be kept From death for want of weapons. Is not my hands a weapon sharp enough To stop my breath? or, if you tie down those, I vow, Amintor, I will never eat,291 Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that That may preserve life! This I swear to keep. Lys. Look to him, though, and bear those bodies in. May this a fair example be to me295 To rule with temper; for on lustful kings Unlookt-for sudden deaths from God are sent; But curst is he that is their instrument. [Exeunt.]