That calls my sins, in a most hideous form,
Into my mind; and I have grief enough
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 arrived:
She sent for me to see her marriage;
A woful one! But they, that are above,
Have ends in every thing. She used 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;

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 gained again.
Fairly I mean to deal: The age is strict
For single combats; and we shall be stopp'd,
If it be publish'd. 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.

Amin. Charitable youth,

(If thou be'st such) think not I will maintain
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 aught,
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 mine eyes; and so
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 urged.

I do not deal uncivilly with those

That dare to fight; but such a one as you
Must be used thus.

[She strikes him.

And my desire. There is no place so fit For me to die as here.

Enter EVADNE, her Hands bloody, with a Knife.
Evad. Amintor. I am loaden with events,
That fly to make thee happy. I have joys,
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.

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? Were those hours half so lovely in thine eyes, When our hands met before the holy man? I was too foul within to look fair then: Since I knew ill, I was not free till now.

Amin. There is presage of some important thing 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 ;

We lay our sleeping lives within their arms!
Why, thou hast raised up Mischief to his height,
And found out one, to out-name thy other faults.
Thou hast no intermission of thy sins,
But all thy life is a continued ill.
Black is thy colour now, disease thy nature.
Joy to Amintor! Thou hast touch'd a life,
The very name of which had power to chain
Up all my rage, and calm my wildest wrongs.
Evad. 'Tis done; and since I could not find a
way

To meet thy love so clear as through his life,
I cannot now repent it.

Amin. Couldst thou procure the gods to speak To bid me love this woman, and forgive, [to me,

I think I should fall out with them. Behold,
Here lies a youth whose wounds bleed in my breast,
Sent by his 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,

And throws an unknown wilderness 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.

Evad. Receive me, then.

Amin. I dare not stay thy language: In midst of all my anger and my grief, Thou dost awake something that troubles me, And says, "I loved thee once." I dare not stay; There is no end of woman's reasoning. [Leaves her. Evad. Amintor, thou shalt love me now again: Go; I am calm. Farewell, and peace for ever! Evadne, whom thou hat'st, will die for thee.

[Kills herself. Amin. I have a little human nature yet, That's left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand. [Returns. Evad. Thy hand was welcome, but it came too late.

Oh, I am lost! the heavy sleep makes haste.

Asp. Oh, oh, oh!

[She dies.

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 I
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.
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,
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.
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 Or I dream still.

[still;

But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand.
I am Aspatia yet.

Amin. Dare my soul ever look abroad again? Asp. I shall surely live, Amintor; I am well: A kind of healthful joy wanders within me.

Amin. The world wants lives to excuse thy loss! 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 loved me then? Amin. Alas!

All that I am's not worth a hair from thee.

Asp. Give me thy hand; my 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.

Asp. I do believe thee better than my sense. Oh! I must go. Farewell! [Dies. Amin. She swoons! Aspatia!-Help! for Heaven'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 :
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 shew itself.
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,

Ye heavenly powers! and lend, for some few years,
The blessed soul to this fair seat again.

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.

Must I talk now? Here's to be with thee, love!
[Stabs himself.

Here lies your sister slain; you lose yourself
In sorrow there.

Mel. Why, Diphilus, it is

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. 'Tis Aspatia.

My last is said. Let me give up my soul
Into thy bosom.

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.

[Dies.

Cal. My daughter dead here too! And you have all fine new tricks to grieve; but I ne'er knew any but direct crying.

From death for want of weapons.
Is not my hand a weapon sharp enough

To stop my breath? or, if you tie down those,
I vow, Amintor, I will never eat,

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
May this a fair example be to me,
[in.
To rule with temper: For, on lustful kings,
Unlook'd-for, sudden deaths from heaven are sent;
But curst is he that is their instrument. [Exeunt

SCENE I.-MESSINA. The Presence-Chamber in the Palace.

Enter DION, CLEREMONT, and THRASILINE Cle. Here's nor lords nor ladies. Dion. Credit me, gentlemen, I wonder at it. They received strict charge from the king to attend here. Besides, it was boldly published, that no officer should forbid any gentlemen that desire to attend and hear.

Cle. Can you guess the cause?

than to enquire after state news. But the king, of iate, made a hazard of both the kingdoms, of Sicily and his own, with offering but to imprison Philaster. At which the city was in arms, not to be charm'd down by any state-order or proclamation, till they saw Philaster ride through the streets pleased, and without a guard; at which they threw their hats, and their arms from them; some to make bonfires, some to drink, all for his deliverance. Which, wise men say. is the cause the king labours to

own with.

Thra. Many, that will seem to know much, say she looks not on him like a maid in love.

Dion. Oh, sir, the multitude (that seldom know any thing but their own opinions) speak that they would have; but the prince, before his own approach, received so many confident messages from the state, that I think she's resolved to be ruled.

Cle. Sir, it is thought, with her he shall enjoy both these kingdoms of Sicily and Calabria.

Dion. Sir, it is, without controversy, so meant. But 'twill be a troublesome labour for him to enjoy both these kingdoms with safety, the rightful heir to one of them living, and living so virtuously; especially, the people admiring the bravery of his mind, and lamenting his injuries.

Cle. Who? Philaster?

Dion. Yes; whose father, we all know, was by our late king of Calabria unrighteously deposed from his fruitful Sicily. Myself drew some blood in those wars, which I would give my hand to be wash'd from.

Cle. Sir, my ignorance in state-policy will not let me know why, Philaster being heir to one of these kingdoms, the king should suffer him to walk abroad with such free liberty.

Enter GALATEA, MEGRA, and an old Lady. Thra. See, the ladies. What's the first? Dion. A wise and modest gentlewoman that attends the princess.

Cle. The second?

Dion. She is one that may stand still discreetly enough, and ill-favouredly dance her measure; simper when she is courted by her friend, and slight her husband.

Cle. The last?

Dion. Marry, I think she is one whom the state keeps for the agents of our confederate princes. She'll cog and lie with a whole army, before the league shall break: her name is common through the kingdom, and the trophies of her dishonour advanced beyond Hercules' Pillars. She loves to try the several constitutions of men's bodies; and, indeed, has destroyed the worth of her own body, by making experiment upon it, for the good of the commonwealth.

Cle. She's a profitable member.La. Peace, if you love me! You shall see these gentlemen stand their ground, and not court us. Gal. What if they should? Meg. What if they should?

Gal. Ha, ha, ha!

Ia. Do you laugh, madam?

Dion. Your desires upon you, ladies.
La. Then you must sit beside us.
Dion. I shall sit near you then, lady.

La. Near me, perhaps : But there's a lady endures no stranger; and to me you appear a very strange fellow.

Meg. Methinks he's not so strange; he would quickly be acquainted.

Thra. Peace, the king!

Enter KING, PHARAMOND, ARETHUSA, and Train.
King. To give a stronger testimony of love
Than sickly promises (which commonly
In princes find both birth and burial

In one breath) we have drawn you, worthy sir,
To make your fair endearments to our daughter,
And worthy services known to our subjects,
Now loved and wonder'd at: next, our intent,
To plant you deeply, our immediate heir,
Both to our blood and kingdoms. For this lady,
(The best part of your life, as you confirm me,
And I believe) though her few years and sex
Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes,
Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge
Only of what herself is to herself,

Make her feel moderate health; and when she sleeps, In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams. Think not, dear sir, these undivided parts, That must mould up a virgin, are put on To shew her so, as borrow'd ornaments, To speak her perfect love to you, or add An artificial shadow to her nature: No, sir; I boldly dare proclaim her, yet No woman. But woo her still, and think her moA sweeter mistress than the offer'd language [desty Of any dame, were she a queen, whose eye Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants. Last, noble son (for so I now must call you) What I have done thus public, is not only To add a comfort in particular

To you or me, but all; and to confirm

The nobles, and the gentry of these kingdoms,
By oath to your succession, which shall be
Within this month at most.

Thra. This will be hardly done.

Cle. It must be ill done, if it be done.

Dion. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but half done, So brave a gentleman's wrong'd and flung off. [whilst Thra. I fear.

Cle. Who does not?

Dion. I fear not for myself, and yet I fear too. Well, we shall see, we shall see. No more.

Pha. Kissing your white hand, mistress, I take To thank your royal father; and thus far, [leave To be my own free trumpet. Understand, Great king, and these your subjects, mine that must (For so deserving you have spoke me, sir, And so deserving I dare speak myself)

To what a person, of what eminence,

Ripe expectation, of what faculties,

[be,

ACT 1.

Manners and virtues, you would wed your king. doms:

You in me have your wishes. Oh, this country! By more than all my hopes I hold it happy; Happy, in their dear memories that have been Kings great and good; happy in yours that is; And from you (as a chronicle to keep Your noble name from eating age) do I Opine myself, most happy. Gentlemen, Believe me in a word, a prince's word, There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, fear'd, Equal to be commanded and obey'd, But through the travels of my life I'll find it, And tie it to this country. And I vow My reign shall be so easy to the subject, That every man shall be his prince himself, And his own law (yet I his prince and law). And, dearest lady, to your dearest self (Dear, in the choice of him whose name and lustre Must make you more and mightier) let me say, You are the blessed'st living; for, sweet princess, You shall enjoy a man of men, to be Your servant; you shall make him yours, for Great queens must die. [whom

Thra. Miraculous!

Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing but a large inventory of his own commendations.

Dion. I wonder what's his price? For certainly He'll sell himself, he has so praised his shape.

[with fear!

[us!