Part 12 (1/2)

_Amint_. But there is nothing.

_Mel_. Worse and worse; farewel; From this time have acquaintance, but no friend.

_Amint_. _Melantius_, stay, you shall know what that is.

_Mel_. See how you play'd with friends.h.i.+p; be advis'd How you give cause unto your self to say, You ha'lost a friend.

_Amint_. Forgive what I have done; For I am so ore-gone with injuries Unheard of, that I lose consideration Of what I ought to do--oh--oh.

_Mel_. Do not weep; what is't?

May I once but know the man Hath turn'd my friend thus?

_Amint_. I had spoke at first, but that.

_Mel_. But what?

_Amint_. I held it most unfit For you to know; faith do not know it yet.

_Mel_. Thou seest my love, that will keep company With thee in tears; hide nothing then from me; For when I know the cause of thy distemper, With mine own armour I'le adorn my self, My resolution, and cut through thy foes, Unto thy quiet, till I place thy heart As peaceable as spotless innocence. What is it?

_Amint_. Why, 'tis this--it is too big To get out, let my tears make way a while.

_Mel_. Punish me strangely heaven, if he escape Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this.

_Amint_. Your Sister.

_Mel_. Well said.

_Amint_. You'l wish't unknown, when you have heard it.

_Mel_. No.

_Amint_. Is much to blame, And to the King has given her honour up, And lives in Wh.o.r.edom with him.

_Mel_. How, this!

Thou art run mad with injury indeed, Thou couldst not utter this else; speak again, For I forgive it freely; tell thy griefs.

_Amint_. She's wanton; I am loth to say a Wh.o.r.e, Though it be true.

_Mel_. Speak yet again, before mine anger grow Up beyond throwing down; what are thy griefs?

_Amint_. By all our friends.h.i.+p, these.

_Mel_. What? am I tame?

After mine actions, shall the name of friend Blot all our family, and strike the brand Of Wh.o.r.e upon my Sister unreveng'd?

My shaking flesh be thou a Witness for me, With what unwillingness I go to scourge This Rayler, whom my folly hath call'd Friend; I will not take thee basely; thy sword Hangs near thy hand, draw it, that I may whip Thy rashness to repentance; draw thy sword.

_Amint_. Not on thee, did thine anger swell as high As the wild surges; thou shouldst do me ease Here, and Eternally, if thy n.o.ble hand Would cut me from my sorrows.

_Mel_. This is base and fearful! they that use to utter lyes, Provide not blows, but words to qualifie The men they wrong'd; thou hast a guilty cause.