Part 11 (1/2)

Alas! I am nothing but a mult.i.tude Of walking griefs; yet should I murther you, I might before the world take the excuse Of madness: for compare my injuries, And they will well appear too sad a weight For reason to endure; but fall I first Amongst my sorrows, ere my treacherous hand Touch holy things: but why? I know not what I have to say; why did you choose out me To make thus wretched? there were thousand fools Easie to work on, and of state enough within the Island.

_Evad_. I would not have a fool, it were no credit for me.

_Amint_. Worse and worse!

Thou that dar'st talk unto thy Husband thus, Profess thy self a Wh.o.r.e; and more than so, Resolve to be so still; it is my fate To bear and bow beneath a thousand griefs, To keep that little credit with the World.

But there were wise ones too, you might have ta'ne another.

_King_. No; for I believe thee honest, as thou wert valiant.

_Amint_. All the happiness Bestow'd upon me, turns into disgrace; G.o.ds take your honesty again, for I Am loaden with it; good my Lord the King, be private in it.

_King_. Thou may'st live _Amintor_, Free as thy King, if thou wilt wink at this, And be a means that we may meet in secret.

_Amint_. A Baud! hold my breast, a bitter curse Seize me, if I forget not all respects That are Religious, on another word Sounded like that, and through a Sea of sins Will wade to my revenge, though I should call Pains here, and after life upon my soul.

_King_. Well I am resolute you lay not with her, And so leave you.

[_Exit King_.

_Evad_. You must be prating, and see what follows.

_Amint_. Prethee vex me not.

Leave me, I am afraid some sudden start Will pull a murther on me.

_Evad_. I am gone; I love my life well.

[_Exit Evadne_.

_Amint_. I hate mine as much.

This 'tis to break a troth; I should be glad If all this tide of grief would make me mad.

[_Exit_.

_Enter Melantius_.

_Mel_. I'le know the cause of all _Amintors_ griefs, Or friends.h.i.+p shall be idle.

[_Enter Calianax_.

_Cal_. O _Melantius_, my Daughter will die.

_Mel_. Trust me, I am sorry; would thou hadst ta'ne her room.

_Cal_. Thou art a slave, a cut-throat slave, a b.l.o.o.d.y treacherous slave.

_Melan_. Take heed old man, thou wilt be heard to rave, And lose thine Offices.

_Cal_. I am valiant grown At all these years, and thou art but a slave.

_Mel_. Leave, some company will come, and I respect Thy years, not thee so much, that I could wish To laugh at thee alone.