Could do no more but weep for Joy to see thee
After long Abfence; all the Wounds I have
Fetch'd not fo much away, nor all the Cries
Of widowed Mothers too: but this is Peace;
And that was War. Amin. Pardon, thou holy God
Of Marriage-bed, and frown not, I am forc'd,
In anfwer of fuch noble Tears as thofe,

To weep upon my Wedding-day.

(6) Mel. I fear, thou art grown too fickle; for, I hear, 'A Lady mourns for thee; Men fay, to Death; Forfaken of thee; on what terms, I know not.

Amin. She had my Promise, but the King forbad it; 'And made me make this worthy Change, thy Sifter, Accompanied with Graces far above her,

With whom I long to lofe my lufty Youth,
And grow old in her Arms. Mel. Be profperous!
Enter Meffenger.

Mell. My Lord, the Mafquers rage

for you. Lyf. We are gone: Cleon, Strato, Diphilus,

[Exeunt Lyfippus, Cleon, Strato, and Diphilus. Amin. We'll all attend you: We shall trouble You With our Solemnities. Mel. Not fo, 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 fhe has a Heart,
She fays; but, truft me, it is Stone, no better;
(7) There's no place I can challenge gentle in't.

But

(6) Mel. I fear, thou art grown too fick; for I hear,] This Verfe halts in the Metre, thro' a flight Corruption in the modern Editions. The oldest Quarto, in 1619, has it, cruel: but the next, in 1622, fickle; from which Word it was mistakenly alter'd to fick.

(7) There is no Place that I can challenge in't.] The Quarto, in 1619, reads it thus;

There is no Place that I can challenge, Gentlemen.

But the Gentlemen were all gone off, except Himfelf and Amintor. I believe, from the Traces of the old Text, that the Emendation, which I have ventured to adopt, may reftore the Authors' genuine Reading: and, as it is confonant in Sense to what he says in the preceding Verfe,

I hope,

But you

stand still, and here my way lies. [Exeunt feverally.

Enter Calianax with Diagoras.

Cal. Diagoras, look to the Doors better for fhame; you let in all the World, and anon the King will rail at me; why, very well faid; by Jove, the King will have the Show i'th' Court.

Diag. Why do you fwear fo, my Lord? You know, he'll have it here.

Cal. By this Light, if he be wife, he will not.

Diag. And if he will not be wife, you are forfworn. Cal. One may wear out his Heart with Swearing, and get thanks on no fide; I'll be gone, look to't, who will. Diag. My Lord, I fhall never keep them out. Pray, ftay; your Looks will terrify them.

Cal. My Looks terrify them, you Coxcombly Afs, you! I'll be judg'd by all the Company, whether thou haft 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 fure, I fweat quite through my Office. I might have made room at my Daughter's Wedding, they ha' near kill'd her a mong them. And now I must do fervice for him that hath forfaken her; serve, that will. [Exit Calianax. Diag. He's fo humorous fince his Daughter was forfaken hark, hark; there, there; fo, fo;

What now?

[Knock within. Mel. Open the Door. Diag. Who's there? Mel. Melantius. Diag. I hope, your Lordship brings no Troop with you; for, if you do, I must return them.

Enter Melantius, and a Lady.

Mel. None but this Lady, Sir.

Diag. The Ladies are all plac'd above, fave thofe that come in the King's Troop; the best of Rhodes fit there, and there's room.

Mel. I thank you, Sir. When I have feen you plac'd,

I hope, the Change will not be look'd upon as an arbitrary Conjecture. By gentle we must understand soft, in oppofition to the Hardnefs of Stone.

Madam,

Madam, I must attend upon the King;
But, the Mafque done, I'll wait on you again.

Diag. Stand back there, room for my Lord Melantius; pray, bear back; this is no place for fuch Youths and their Trulls; let the Doors be fhut again; no! do your Heads itch? I'll fcratch them for you: fo, now thrust and hang: 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, can you help me to the Speech of the Mafter-Cook?

Diag. If I open the Door, I'll cook fome of your Calves-heads. Peace, Rogues. again, who is't? Mel. Melantius.

-

[Within.

Enter Calianax.

Cal. Let him not in.

Diag. O, my Lord, I must; make room there for Lord. Is your Lady plac'd?

Mel. Yes, Sir,

my

[To Mel.

I thank you. My Lord Calianax, well met;
Your caufelefs Hate to me, I hope, is buried.
Cal. Yes, I do fervice for your Sister here,
That brings my own poor Child to timeless Death;
She loves your Friend Amintor, fuch another
Falfe-hearted Lord as you. Mel. You do me wrong,
A most unmanly one, and I am slow

In taking Vengeance; but be well advis'd.

Cal. It may be fo: Who plac'd the Lady there,

So near the prefence of the King?

Mel. I did.

Cal. My Lord, she must not fit there. Mel. Why? Cal. The place is kept for Women of more Worth. Mel. More Worth than fhe? it mif-becomes your Age, And Place, to be thus womanish; forbear;

What you have spoke, I am content to think
The Palfey fhook your Tongue to. Cal. Why, 'tis well,
If I ftand here to place Men's Wenches for them.

Mel. I fhall forget this Place, thy Age, my Safety,

And

And, thorough all, cut that poor fickly Week,
Thou haft to live, away from thee.

Cal. Nay, I know,

You can fight for your Whore.

And be he Flesh and Blood, he lyes, that fays it;
Thy Mother at fifteen was black and finful

To her. Diag. Good my Lord!

Mel. Bate me the King

[Man,

Mel. Some God pluck threescore Years from that fond

That I may kill him, and not ftain mine Honour

It is the Curfe of Soldiers, that in Peace

(8) They fhall be brav'd by fuch ignoble Men, As (if the Land were troubled) would with Tears And Knees beg Succour from 'em. 'Would, that Blood (That Sea of Blood) that I have lost in fight, Were running in thy Veins, that it might make thee Apt to fay lefs, or able to maintain,

Shouldft thou fay more!-This Rhodes, I fee, is nought But a Place privileg'd to do Men Wrong.

Cal. Ay, you may fay your Pleasure.

Enter Amintor.

Amin. What vile Wrong

Has stirr'd my worthy Friend, who is as flow
To fight with Words, as he is quick of Hand?
Mel. That heap of Age, which I should reverence
If it were temperate; but tefty Years

Are most contemptible. Amin. Good Sir, forbear.
Cal. There is just fuch 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 haftned him.
Cal. Make room there.

[Hoboyes play within.

(8) They shall be brain'd by fuch ignoble Men] Thus, all the vulgar and modern Editions: But fuch ignoble Men, as Melantius is defcribing, durft not knock a Soldier's Brains out; tho' they might venture to infult him. The Quarto of 1619 gives us the genuine Reading, which I have inferted in the Text.

Enter

Enter King, Evadne, Afpatia, Lords and Ladies.

King. Melantius, thou art welcome, and my Love Is with thee ftill; but this is not a Place

To brabble in; Calianax, join hands.

Cal. He shall not have my hand. King. This is no time To force you to it; I do love you Both: Calianax, you look well to your Office; And you, Melantius, are welcome home. Begin the Mafque.

Mel. Sifter, I joy to fee you, and your Choice. You look'd with my Eyes when you took that Man; Be happy in him!

Evad. O my dearest Brother!

[Recorders play.

Your Prefence is more joyful than this Day

Can be unto me.

THE MAS QU E.

NIGHT rifes in Mifts.

Night. Our Reign is now; for in the quenching Sea The Sun is drown'd, and with him fell the Day; Bright Cinthia, hear my Voice; I am the Night, For whom thou bear'st about thy borrow'd Light; Appear, no longer thy pale Visage shroud, But strike thy Silver Horns quite through a Cloud, And fend a Beam upon my fwarthy Face; By which I may difcover all the Place And Perfons, and how many longing Eyes Are come to wait on our Solemnities. How dull and black am I? Can I not find This Beauty without thee, am I fo blind? Methinks, they fhew like to those Eastern Streaks That warn us hence, before the Morning breaks; Back, my pale Servant, for thefe Eyes know how To fhoot far more and quicker Rays than thou. Cinth. Great Queen, they be a Troop for whom alone One of my cleareft Moons I have put on;

A Troop, that looks as if thyself and I

[Enter Cinthia.

Had pluckt our Reins in, and our Whips laid by,

To