THE

MAID'S TRAGEDY.

A C T I. SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Cleon, Strato, Lyfippus, and Diphilus.

STRATO.

HE reft are making ready, Sir. (1) Lyf. So
let them;

There's Time enough. Diph. You are the
Brother to

The King, my Lord; we'll take your Word. (2) Lyf. Strato, thou haft fome Skill in Poetry;

(1) Strat. So let them; there's Time enough.

Diph. You are the Brother to the King, my Lord;

We'll take your Word.] 'Tis very early to begin blundering at the fecond Line of the firft Play. Strato was not Brother to the King, but Lyfippus. This Line therefore is to be placed to Lyfippus, and not to Strato: And fo it is in the Quarto Edition publifh'd in the Year 1619. Another Quarto in 1650, and the Folio Edition in 1679, have fall'n into the Error of placing it to Strato.

(2) Lyf. Strato, thou haft fome Skill in Poetry;

What think' ft thou of a Mafque?] It should be, the Mafque. It was not then to be form'd; nor does the Prince mean to ask, whether it will be well to have One; but whether This, which is prepared, will be a good One. This Strato's Anfwer and the Sequel of the Play plainly shew. Mr. Seward.

What think'st thou of the Mafque? Will it be well? Strat. As well as Mafque can be. Lyf. As Mafque can be? Strat. Why, yes;

They must commend their King, and speak in Praise
Of the Affembly; blefs the Bride and Bridegroom,
In Perfon of fome God; they're tyed to Rules

Of Flattery.
Return'd!

Cle. See, good my Lord, who is

Enter Melantius.

Lyf. Noble Melantius! The Land

By me welcomes thy Virtues home to Rhodes:
Thou, that with Blood abroad buy'ft us our Peace!
The Breath of Kings is like the Breath of Gods;
My Brother wish'd thee here, and thou art here;
He will be e'en too kind, and weary thee

With often Welcomes; (3) but the Time doth give thee
A Welcome above his, or all the World's.

[of mine Mel. My Lord, my Thanks; but these scratch'd Limbs Have spoke my Love and Truth unto my Friends, More than my Tongue e'er could. My Mind's the fame It ever was to You; where I find Worth,

I love the Keeper till he let it go,

And then I follow it. Diph. Hail, worthy Brother!
He, that rejoices not at your Return

In Safety, is mine Enemy for ever.

Mel. I thank thee, Diphilus: but thou art faulty;
I fent for thee to exercise thine Arms

With me at Patria: thou cam'ft not, Diphilus:
'Twas ill. Diph. My noble Brother, my Excuse
Is my King's ftraight Command; which you, my Lord,
Can witness with me. Lyf. 'Tis moft true, Melantius;
He might not come, till the Solemnity

Of this great Match was paft. Diph. Have you heard of it?
Mel. Yes; and have given cause to those, that here
Envy my Deeds abroad, to call me gamefome;

but the Time doth give thee

(3) A Welcome above this, or all the World's.] Lyfippus is fpeaking in particular of the King, his Brother's, Welcome to Melantius; therefore, I think, I have adopted the genuine Reading, which is authoriz'd by the Quarto in 1619; and the fecond Impreffion in 1622.

I have no other Business here at Rhodes.

Lyf. We have a Masque to Night, and you must tread A Soldier's Measure.

Mel. These foft and filken Wars are not for me;
The Mufick must be fhrill, and all confus'd,

That ftirs 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:
(4) (Wond'r not, I call a Man fo 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 return'd (as, without Boast,

I brought home Conqueft) 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 fee 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 fee it all perform'd.

Enter Afpatia, paffing with Attendants.

Hail, Maid and Wife!

Thou fair Afpatia! may the holy Knot,
That thou haft tyed to day, laft till the Hand
Of Age undo it! may'ft thou bring a Race
Unto Amintor, that may fill the World

Succeffively with Soldiers! Afp. My hard Fortunes
Deserve not Scorn; for I was never proud,

When they were good. Mel. How's this?

Lyf. You are mistaken,

For she's not married.

[Exit Afp. with her Attendants.

Mel. You faid, Amintor was. Diph. 'Tis true; but Mel. Pardon me, I did receive Letters at Patria from my Amintor,

(4) (Wond'r not, I call a Man fo young my Friend;)] This Verfe, loft in the modern Editions, I have retriev'd from the Quarto's of 1619, and 1650; and the Folio of 1679. I have taken the Liberty to give it its true Metre and Verfification.

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? Lyf. A Lady, Sir, That bears the Light above her, and strikes dead With Flashes of her Eye; the fair Evadne,

Your virtuous Sifter. Mel. Peace of Heart betwixt them! But this is strange. Lyf. The King, my Brother, did it To honour you; and these Solemnities

Are at his Charge.

Mel. 'Tis Royal, like himself; but I am fad, My Speech bears fo unfortunate a Sound

To beautiful Afpatia; there is Rage

Hid in her Father's Breaft, Calianax,

Bent long against me; and he should not think,
If I could call it back, that I would take
So bafe Revenges, as to fcorn the State
Of his neglected Daughter: Holds he still

His Greatness with the King? Lyf. Yes; but this Lady
Walks discontented, with her watry Eyes
Bent on the Earth: The unfrequented Woods
Are her Delight; where, when the fees a Bank
Stuck full of Flowers, fhe with a Sigh.will tell
Her Servants what a pretty place it were
To bury Lovers in; and make her Maids
Pluck 'em, and ftrow her over like a Corfe.
She carries with her an infectious Grief,
That strikes all her Beholders; she will fing
The mournful'ft things that ever Ear hath heard,
And figh, and fing again; and when the rest
Of our young Ladies, in their wanton Blood,
Tell mirthful Tales in Course that fill the Room
With Laughter, fhe will with fo fad a Look
Bring forth a Story of the filent Death
Of fome forfaken Virgin; which her Grief
Will put in fuch a Phrase, that, e'er fhe end,
She'll fend them weeping one by one away.
(5) Mel. She has a Brother under

(5) She has a Brother, under my Command,

my Command,

Like

Like her ;] The Criticks in all Ages, upon Dramatick Poems,

have

Like her; a Face, as womanish as hers;
But with a Spirit that hath much out-grown
The number of his Years.

Enter Amintor.

Cle. My Lord, the Bridegroom!

Mel. I might run fiercely, not more haftily,
Upon my Foe: I love thee well, Amintor,
My Mouth is much too narrow for my Heart;
I joy to look upon thofe Eyes of thine;
Thou art my Friend, but my disorder'd Speech
Cuts off my Love. Amin. Thou art Melantius ;
All Love is spoke in that. A Sacrifice
To thank the Gods, Melantius is return'd
In Safety! Victory fits on his Sword,
As she was wont; may fhe build there and dwell,
And may thy Armour be, as it hath been,
Only thy Valour and thy Innocence!

What endless Treasures would our Enemies give,
That I might hold thee ftill thus! Mel. I'm but poor
In Words, but credit me, young Man, thy Mother

have laid it down for a Rule, that an Incident should be prepared, but not prevented; that is, not foreseen, fo as to take off the Surprize: For then the whole Pleasure of the Incident is pall'd, and has no Effect upon the Audience or Readers. These Preparatives, therefore, muft feem by Chance to the Spectators, tho' they are always defignedly thrown in by the Poet. "In multis Oeconomia Comicorum Poetarum "ità fe habet, ut Cafu putet Spectator veniffe quod Confilio Scriptorum factum fit:" fays DONATUS upon TERENCE. This is the moft artful Preparation, that I remember in all Beaumont and Fletcher's Plays, for an Incident which is in no kind suspected. Melantius fays, he has a Brother of Afpatia under his Command, most like her in the Softness of Face and Feature. This Brother never appears in any Scene thro' the Play: But when Afpatia comes in Boy's Cloaths to fight with Amintor, to obtain her Death from his Hand, and tells him,

66

For till the Change of War mark'd this fmooth Face
With thefe few Blemishes, People would call me

My Sifter's Picture; and her, mine; In short,

I am the Brother to the wrong'd Afpatia.

This Fore-Mention of the Brother, here, makes the Incident the more probable, and striking; as Amintor must have heard of fuch a Brother, and could have no Sufpicion that he was going to draw his Sword against Afpatia. The Audience are equally amufed with the Fallacy.

B 4

Could