Part 11 (2/2)

_Cal_. I'le spoil your mirth, I mean to fight with thee; There lie my Cloak, this was my Fathers Sword, And he durst fight; are you prepar'd?

_Mel_. Why? wilt thou doat thy self out of thy life?

Hence get thee to bed, have careful looking to, and eat warm things, and trouble not me: my head is full of thoughts more weighty than thy life or death can be.

_Cal_. You have a name in War, when you stand safe Amongst a mult.i.tude; but I will try What you dare do unto a weak old man In single fight; you'l ground I fear: Come draw.

_Mel_. I will not draw, unless thou pul'st thy death Upon thee with a stroke; there's no one blow That thou canst give, hath strength enough to kill me.

Tempt me not so far then; the power of earth Shall not redeem thee.

_Cal_. I must let him alone, He's stout and able; and to say the truth, However I may set a face, and talk, I am not valiant: when I was a youth, I kept my credit with a testie trick I had, Amongst cowards, but durst never fight.

_Mel_. I will not promise to preserve your life if you do stay.

_Cal_. I would give half my Land that I durst fight with that proud man a little: if I had men to hold, I would beat him, till he ask me mercy.

_Mel_. Sir, will you be gone?

_Cal_. I dare not stay, but I will go home, and beat my servants all over for this.

[_Exit Calianax_.

_Mel_. This old fellow haunts me, But the distracted carriage of mine _Amintor_ Takes deeply on me, I will find the cause; I fear his Conscience cries, he wrong'd _Aspatia_.

_Enter Amintor_.

_Amint_. Mens eyes are not so subtil to perceive My inward misery; I bear my grief Hid from the World; how art thou wretched then?

For ought I know, all Husbands are like me; And every one I talk with of his Wife, Is but a well dissembler of his woes As I am; would I knew it, for the rareness afflicts me now.

_Mel_. _Amintor_, We have not enjoy'd our friends.h.i.+p of late, for we were wont to charge our souls in talk.

_Amint_. _Melantius_, I can tell thee a good jest of _Strato_ and a Lady the last day.

_Mel_. How wast?

_Amint_. Why such an odd one.

_Mel_. I have long'd to speak with you, not of an idle jest that's forc'd, but of matter you are bound to utter to me.

_Amint_. What is that my friend?

_Mel_. I have observ'd, your words fall from your tongue Wildly; and all your carriage, Like one that strove to shew his merry mood, When he were ill dispos'd: you were not wont To put such scorn into your speech, or wear Upon your face ridiculous jollity: Some sadness sits here, which your cunning would Cover o're with smiles, and 'twill not be. What is it?

_Amint_. A sadness here! what cause Can fate provide for me, to make me so?

Am I not lov'd through all this Isle? the King Rains greatness on me: have I not received A Lady to my bed, that in her eye Keeps mounting fire, and on her tender cheeks Inevitable colour, in her heart A prison for all vertue? are not you, Which is above all joyes, my constant friend?

What sadness can I have? no, I am light, And feel the courses of my blood more warm And stirring than they were; faith marry too, And you will feel so unexprest a joy In chast embraces, that you will indeed appear another.

_Mel_. You may shape, _Amintor_, Causes to cozen the whole world withal, And your self too; but 'tis not like a friend, To hide your soul from me; 'tis not your nature To be thus idle; I have seen you stand As you were blasted; midst of all your mirth, Call thrice aloud, and then start, feigning joy So coldly: World! what do I here? a friend Is nothing, Heaven! I would ha' told that man My secret sins; I'le search an unknown Land, And there plant friends.h.i.+p, all is withered here; Come with a complement, I would have fought, Or told my friend he ly'd, ere sooth'd him so; Out of my bosom.

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