In safety is mine enemy for ever.
MEL. I thank thee, Diphilus. But thou art faulty:
I sent for thee to exercise thine arms
With me at Patria; thou cam’st not, Diphilus;
’Twas ill.
DIPH. My noble brother, my excuse
Is my King’s strict command,—which you, my lord,
Can witness with me.
LYS. ’Tis most true, Melantius;
He might not come till the solemnities
Of this great match were past.
DIPH. Have you heard of it?
MEL. Yes, and have given cause to those that here
Envy my deeds abroad to call me gamesome;
I have no other business here at Rhodes.
LYS. We have a masque to-night, and you must tread
A soldier’s measure.1
MEL. Those soft and silken wars are not for me:
The music must be shrill and all confused
That stirs my blood; and then I dance with arms.
But is Amintor wed?
DIPH. This day.
MEL. All joys upon him! for he is my friend.
Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend:
His worth is great; valiant he is and temperate;
And one that never thinks his life his own,
If his friend need it. When he was a boy,
As oft as I returned (as, without boast,
I brought home conquest), he would gaze upon me
And view me round, to find in what one limb
The virtue lay to do those things he heard;
Then would he wish to see my sword, and feel
The quickness of the edge, and in his hand
Weigh it: he oft would make me smile at this.
His youth did promise much, and his ripe years
Will see it all performed.—
Enter Aspatia, passing by
Hail, maid and wife!
Thou fair Aspatia, may the holy knot,
That thou hast tied to-day, last till the hand
Of age undo it! may’st thou bring a race
Unto Amintor, that may fill the world
Successively with soldiers!
ASP. My hard fortunes
Deserve not scorn, for I was never proud
When they were good.
Exit Aspatia
MEL. How’s this?
LYS. You are mistaken, sir; she is not married.
MEL. You said Amintor was.
DIPH. ’Tis true; but—
MEL. Pardon me; I did receive
Letters at Patria from my Amintor,
That he should marry her.
DIPH. And so it stood
In all opinion long; but your arrival
Made me imagine you had heard the change.
MEL. Who hath he taken then?
LYS. A lady, sir,
That bears the light above her,2 and strikes dead
With flashes of her eye; the fair Evadne,
Your virtuous sister.
MEL. Peace of heart betwixt them!
But this is strange.
LYS. The King, my brother, did it
To honor you; and these solemnities
Are at his charge.
MEL. ’Tis royal, like himself. But I am sad
My speech bears so unfortunate a sound
To beautiful Aspatia. There is rage
Hid in her father’s breast, Calianax,
Bent long against me; and he should not think,
Could I but call it back, that I would take
So base revenges, as to scorn the state
Of his neglected daughter. Holds he still
His greatness with the King?
LYS. Yes. But this lady
Walks discontented, with her watery eyes
Bent on the earth. The unfrequented woods
Are her delight; where, when she sees a bank
Stuck full of flowers, she with a sigh will tell
Her servants what a pretty place it were
To bury lovers in; and make her maids
Pluck ’em, and strow her over like a corse.3
She carries with her an infectious grief,
That strikes all her beholders: she will sing
The mournful’st things that ever ear hath heard,
And sigh, and sing again; and when the rest
Of our young ladies, in their wanton blood,
Tell mirthful tales in course,4 that fill the room
With laughter, she will, with so sad a look,
Bring forth a story of the silent death
Of some forsaken virgin, which her grief
Will put in such a phrase, that, ere she end,
she’ll send them weeping one by one away.
MEL. She has a brother under my command,
Like her; a face as womanish as hers;
But with a spirit that hath much outgrown
The number of his years.
Enter Amintor
CLE. My lord the bridegroom.
MEL. I might run fiercely, not more hastily,
Upon my foe. I love thee well, Amintor;
My mouth is much too narrow for my heart;
I joy to look upon those eyes of thine;
Thou art my friend, but my disordered speech
Cuts off my love.
AMIN. Thou art Melantius;
All love is spoke in that. A sacrifice,
To thank the gods Melantius is returned
In safety! Victory sits on his sword,
As she was wont: may she build there and dwell;
And may thy armor be, as it hath been,
Only thy valor and thine innocence!
What endless treasures would our enemies give,
That I might hold thee still thus!
MEL. I am poor
In words; but credit me, young man, thy mother
Could do no more but weep for joy to see thee
After long absence: all the wounds I gave
Fetched not so much away, nor all the cries
Of widowed mothers. But this is peace,
And that was war.
AMIN. Pardon, thou holy god
Of marriage-bed, and frown not, I am forced,
In answer of such noble tears as those,
To weep upon my wedding-day!
MEL. I fear thou art grown too fickle; for I hear
A lady mourns for thee; men say, to death;
Forsaken of thee; on what terms I know not.
AMIN. She had my promise; but the King forbade it,
And made me make this worthy change, thy sister,
Accompanied with graces [far] above her;
With whom I long to lose my lusty youth,
And grow old in her arms.
MEL. Be prosperous!
Enter Messenger
MESS. My lord, the masquers rage for you.
LYS. We are gone.—
Cleon, Strato, Diphilus!
AMIN. We’ll all attend you.—
Exeunt Lysippus, Cleon, Strato, Diphilus
We shall trouble you
With our solemnities.
MEL. Not so, Amintor:
But if you laugh at my rude carriage
In peace, I’ll do as much for you in war,
When you come thither. Yet I have a mistress
To bring to your delights; rough though I am,
I have a mistress, and she has a heart
She says; but, trust me, it is stone, no better;
There is no place that I can challenge in’t.
But you stand still, and here my way lies.
Exeunt
SCENE II
Enter Calianax with Diagoras
CAL. Diagoras, look to the doors better, for shame! you let in all the world, and anon the King will rail at me. Why, very well said. By Jove, the King will have the show i’ th’ court.
DIAG. Why do you swear so, my lord? you know he’ll have it here.
&
nbsp; CAL. By this light, if he be wise, he will not.
DIAG. And if he will not be wise, you are forsworn.
CAL. One must sweat his heart out with swearing, and get thanks on no side. I’ll be gone, look to’t who will.
DIAG. My lord, I shall never keep them out. Pray, stay; your looks will terrify them.
CAL. My looks terrify them, you coxcombly ass, you! I’ll be judged by all the company whether thou hast not a worse face than I.
DIAG. I mean, because they know you and your office.
CAL. Office! I would I could put it off! I am sure I sweat quite through my office. I might have made room at my daughter’s wedding: they ha’ near killed her amongst them; and now I must do service for him that hath forsaken her. Serve that will!
Exit Calianax
DIAG. He’s so humorous5 since his daughter was forsaken! [Knock within] Hark, hark! there, there! so, so! codes, codes!6 What now?
MEL. [Within] Open the door.
DIAG. Who’s there?
MEL. [Within] Melantius.
DIAG. I hope your lordship brings no troop with you; for, if you do, I must return them.7
[Opens the door]
Enter Melantius and a Lady
MEL. None but this lady, sir.
DIAG. The ladies are all placed above, save those that come in the King’s troop: the best of Rhodes sit there, and there’s room.
MEL. I thank you, sir.—When I have seen you placed, madam, I must attend the King; but, the masque done, I’ll wait on you again.
DIAG. [Opening another door] Stand back there!—Room for my lord Melantius! [Exeunt Melantius, Lady, other door]—Pray, bear back— this is no place for such youths and their trulls—let the doors shut again.—No!—do your heads itch? I’ll scratch them for you. [Shuts the door]—So, now thrust and hang. [Knocking within]—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 you, can you help me to the speech of the mastercook?
DIAG. If I open the door, I’ll cook some of your calves-heads. Peace, rogues! [Knocking within]—Again! who is’t?
MEL. [Within] Melantius.
Enter Calianax to Melantius
CAL. Let him not in.
DIAG. O, my lord, a’ must.—Make room there for my lord!
Is your lady placed?
MEL. Yes, sir, I thank you.—
My lord Calianax, well met:
Your causeless hate to me I hope is burièd.
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 advised.
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 misbecomes your age
And place to be thus womanish: forbear!
What you have spoke, I am content to think
The palsy shook your tongue to.
CAL. Why, ’tis well:
If I stand here to place men’s wenches—
MEL. I
Shall quite 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 me the King,8 and, be he flesh and blood,
A’ lies that says it! Thy mother at fifteen
Was black and sinful to her.
DIAG. Good my lord—
MEL. Some god pluck threescore years from that fond9 man,
That I may kill him, and not stain mine honor!
It is the curse of soldiers, that in peace
They shall be braved by such ignoble men,
As, if the land were troubled, would with tears
And knees beg succor from ’em. Would the 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,
Should’st thou say more! This Rhodes, I see, is nought
But a place privileged to do men wrong.
CAL. Ay, you may say your pleasure.
Enter Amintor
AMIN. What vile injury
Has stirred 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.
AMIN. Good sir, forbear.
CAL. There is just such another as yourself.
AMIN. 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 hastened him.
CAL. Make room there!
[Hautboys 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 brabble10 in.—Calianax, join hands.
CAL. He shall not have mine 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 masque.
MEL. Sister, I joy to see you and your choice;
You looked with my eyes when you took that man:
Be happy in him!
[Recorders11 play]
EVAD. O, my dearest brother,
Your presence is more joyful than this day
Can be unto me!
THE MASQUE
Night rises in mists
NIGHT. Our reign is come; for in the quenching sea
The sun is drowned, and with him fell the Day.
Bright Cynthia, hear my voice! I am the Night,
For whom thou bear’st about thy borrowed light:
Appear! no longer thy pale visage shroud,
But strike thy silver horns quite through a cloud,
And send a beam upon my swarthy face,
By which I may discover all the place
And persons, and how many longing eyes
Are come to wait on our solemnities.
Enter Cynthia
How dull and black am I! I could not find
This beauty without thee, I am so blind:
Methinks they show like to those eastern streaks,
That warn us hence before the morning breaks.
Back, my pale servant! for these eyes know how
To shoot far more and quicker rays than thou.
CYNTH. Great queen, they be a troop for whom alone
One of my clearest moons I have put on;
A troop, that looks as if thyself and I
Had plucked our reins in and our whips laid by,
To gaze upon these mortals, that appear
Brighter than we.
NIGHT. Then let us keep ’em here;
And never more our chariots drive away,
But hold our places and outshine the Day.
CYNTH. Great queen of shadows, you are pleased to speak
Of more than may be done: we may not break
The gods’ decrees; but, when our time is come,
&nb
sp; Must drive away, and give the Day our room.
Yet, whilst our reign lasts, let us stretch our power
To give our servants one contented hour,
With such unwonted solemn grace and state,
As may for ever after force them hate
Our brother’s glorious beams, and wish the Night
Crowned with a thousand stars and our cold light:
For almost all the world their service bend
To Phœbus, and in vain my light I lend,
Gazed on unto my setting from my rise
Almost of none but of unquiet eyes.
NIGHT. Then shine at full, fair queen, and by thy power
Produce a birth, to crown this happy hour,
Of nymphs and shepherds; let their songs discover,
Easy and sweet, who is a happy lover;
Or, if thou woo’t, thine own Endymion
From the sweet flowery bank he lies upon,
On Latmus’ brow, thy pale beams drawn away,
And of his long night let him make this day.
CYNTH. Thou dream’st, dark queen; that fair boy was not mine,
Nor went I down to kiss him. Ease and wine
Have bred these bold tales: poets, when they rage,
Turn gods to men, and make an hour an age.
But I will give a greater state and glory,
And raise to time a nobler memory
Of what these lovers are.—Rise, rise, I say,
Thou power of deeps, thy surges laid away,
Neptune, great king of waters, and by me
Be proud to be commanded!
Neptune rises
NEPT. Cynthia, see,
Thy word hath fetched me hither: let me know
Why I ascend.
CYNTH. Doth this majestic show
Give thee no knowledge yet?
NEPT. Yes, now I see
Something intended, Cynthia, worthy thee.
Go on; I’ll be a helper.
CYNTH. Hie thee, then,
And charge the Wind fly from his rocky den,
Let loose his subjects; only Boreas,
Too foul for our intention, as he was,
Still keep him fast chained: we must have none here
But vernal blasts and gentle winds appear,
Such as blow flowers, and through the glad boughs sing
Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring;
These are our music; next, thy watery race
Bring on in couples; we are pleased to grace
This noble night, each in their richest things
Your own deeps or the broken vessel brings:
Be prodigal, and I shall be as kind
And shine at full upon you.
NEPT. Ho, the wind
Commanding Æolus!
Enter Æolus out of a Rock
The Duchess of Malfi Page 31