Part 23 (2/2)

_Enter_ Servant.

_Ser_. This is a great grace to my Lord, to have the new King come to him; I must tell him, he is entring.

O Heaven help, help;

_Enter_ Lysip. Melant. Cal. Cleon, Diph. Strato.

_Lys_. Where's _Amintor_?

_Strat_. O there, there.

_Lys_. How strange is this!

_Cal_. What should we do here?

_Mel_. These deaths are such acquainted things with me, That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand Stiff here for ever; eyes, call up your tears; This is _Amintor_: heart he was my friend; Melt, now it flows; _Amintor_, give a word To call me to thee.

_Amint_. Oh!

_Mel_. _Melantius_ calls his friend _Amintor_; Oh thy arms Are kinder to me than thy tongue; Speak, speak.

_Amint_. What?

_Mel_. That little word was worth all the sounds That ever I shall hear agen.

_Diph_. O brother! here lies your Sister slain; You lose your self in sorrow there.

_Mel_. Why _Diphilus_, it is A thing to laugh at in respect of this; Here was my Sister, Father, Brother, Son; All that I had; speak once again; What youth lies slain there by thee?

_Amint_. 'Tis _Aspatia_.

My senses fade, let me give up my soul Into thy bosom.

_Cal. What's that? what's that? _Aspatia_!

_Mel_. I never did repent the greatness of my heart till now; It will not burst at need.

_Cal_. My daughter dead here too! and you have all fine new tricks to grieve; but I ne're knew any but direct crying.

_Mel_. I am a pratler, but no more.

_Diph_. Hold Brother.

_Lysip_. Stop him.

_Diph_. Fie; how unmanly was this offer in you!

Does this become our strain?

_Cal_. I know not what the mat[t]er is, but I am Grown very kind, and am friends with you; You have given me that among you will kill me Quickly; but I'le go home, and live as long as I can.

_Mel_. His spirit is but poor that can be kept From death for want of weapons.

Is not my hand a weapon good enough To stop my breath? or if you tie down those, I vow _Amintor_ I will never eat, Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that That may preserve life; this I swear to keep.

<script>