



Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed
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                     THE

                MAIDS TRAGEDY.

   Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher



        Persons Represented in the Play.

        King.

        Lysippus, _brother to the King_.

        Amintor, _a Noble Gentleman_.

        Evadne, _Wife to_ Amintor.

        Malantius}
        Diphilius} _Brothers to_ Evadne.

        Aspatia, _troth-plight wife to_ Amnitor.

        Calianax, _an old humorous Lord, and
                  Father to_ Aspatia.

        Cleon}
        Strato} _Gentlemen_.

        Diagoras, _a Servant_.

        Antiphila}
        Olympias} _waiting Gentlewomen to_ Aspatia.

        Dula, _a Lady_.

        Night}
        Cynthia}
        Neptune}
        Eolus}              _Maskers_.

       *       *       *       *       *



                _Actus primus. Scena prima_.


  Enter _Cleon, Strato, Lysippus, Diphilus_.

_Cleon_.    The rest are making ready Sir.

_Strat_.     So let them, there's time enough.

_Diph_.     You are the brother to the King, my Lord,
                 we'll take your word.

_Lys_.       _Strato_, thou hast some skill in Poetry, What
                thinkst thou of a Mask? will it be well?

_Strat_.     As well as Mask can be.

_Lys_.       As Mask can be?

_Strat_.    Yes, they must commend their King, and speak
                in praise of the Assembly, bless the Bride and
                Bridegroom, in person of some God; th'are tyed
                to rules of flattery.

_Cle_.       See, good my Lord, who is return'd!

_Lys_.       Noble _Melantius_!

                                                       [_Enter Melantius_.

                 The Land by me welcomes thy vertues home to _Rhodes_,
                 thou that with blood abroad buyest us our peace; the
                 breath of King is like the breath of Gods; My brother
                 wisht thee here, and thou art here; he will be too kind,
                 and weary thee with often welcomes; but the time doth
                 give thee a welcome above this or all the worlds.

_Mel_.       My Lord, my thanks; but these scratcht limbs of mine have
                 spoke my love and truth unto my friends, more than my
                 tongue ere could: my mind's the same it ever was to you;
                 where I find worth, I love the keeper, till he let it go,
                 And then I follow it.

_Diph_.     Hail worthy brother!
                 He that rejoyces not at your return
                 In safety, is mine enemy for ever.

_Mel_.        I thank thee _Diphilus_: but thou art faulty;
                  I sent for thee to exercise thine armes
                 With me at _Patria_: thou cam'st not _Diphilus_: 'Twas
                  ill.

_Diph_.     My noble brother, my excuse
                 Is my King's strict command, which you my Lord
                 Can witness with me.

_Lys_.       'Tis true _Melantius_,
                 He might not come till the solemnity
                 Of this great match were past.

_Diph_.     Have you heard of it?

_Mel_.       Yes, I have given cause to those that
                 Envy my deeds abroad, to call me gamesome;
                  I have no other business here at _Rhodes_.

_Lys_.        We have a Mask to night,
                  And you must tread a Soldiers measure.

_Mel_.        These soft and silken wars are not for me;
                  The Musick must be shrill, and all confus'd,
                  That stirs my blood, and then I dance with armes:
                  But is _Amintor_ Wed?

_Diph_.      This day.
_Mel_.        All joyes upon him, for he is my friend:
                  Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend,
                  His worth is great; valiant he is, and temperate,
                  And one that never thinks his life his own,
                  If his friend need it: when he was a boy,
                  As oft as I return'd (as without boast)
                  I brought home conquest, he would gaze upon me,
                  And view me round, to find in what one limb
                  The vertue lay to do those things he heard:
                  Then would he wish to see my Sword, and feel
                  The quickness of the edge, and in his hand
                  Weigh it; he oft would make me smile at this;
                  His youth did promise much, and his ripe years
                  Will see it all perform'd.

                                  [_Enter Aspatia, passing by_.

_Melan_.   Hail Maid and Wife!
                 Thou fair _Aspatia_, may the holy knot
                 That thou hast tyed to day, last till the hand
                 Of age undo't; may'st thou bring a race
                 Unto _Amintor_ that may fill the world
                 Successively with Souldiers.

_Asp_.       My hard fortunes
                 Deserve not scorn; for I was never proud
                 When they were good.

                                                        [_Exit Aspatia_.

_Mel_.       How's this?

_Lys_.        You are mistaken, for she is not married.

_Mel_.       You said _Amintor_ was.

_Diph_.      'Tis true; but

_Mel_.        Pardon me, I did receive
                  Letters at _Patria_, from my _Amintor_,
                  That he should marry her.

_Diph_.      And so it stood,
                  In all opinion long; but your arrival
                  Made me imagine you had heard the change.

_Mel_.        Who hath he taken then?

_Lys_.        A Lady Sir,
                  That bears the light above her, and strikes dead
                  With flashes of her eye; the fair _Evadne_ your
                  vertuous Sister.

_Mel_.        Peace of heart betwixt them: but this is strange.

_Lys_.        The King my brother did it
                  To honour you; and these solemnities
                  Are at his charge.

_Mel_.        'Tis Royal, like himself;
                  But I am sad, my speech bears so unfortunate a sound
                  To beautiful _Aspatia_; there is rage
                  Hid in her fathers breast; _Calianax_
                  Bent long against me, and he should not think,
                  If I could call it back, that I would take
                  So base revenges, as to scorn the state
                  Of his neglected daughter: holds he still his greatness
                  with the King?

_Lys_.        Yes; but this Lady
                  Walks discontented, with her watry eyes
                  Bent on the earth: the unfrequented woods
                  Are her delight; and when she sees a bank
                  Stuck full of flowers, she with a sigh will tell
                  Her servants what a pretty place it were
                  To bury lovers in, and make her maids
                  Pluck'em, and strow her over like a Corse.
                  She carries with her an infectious grief
                  That strikes all her beholders, she will sing
                  The mournful'st things that ever ear hath heard,
                  And sigh, and sing again, and when the rest
                  Of our young Ladies in their wanton blood,
                  Tell mirthful tales in course that fill the room
                  With laughter, she will with so sad a look
                  Bring forth a story of the silent death
                  Of some forsaken Virgin, which her grief
                  Will put in such a phrase, that ere she end,
                  She'l send them weeping one by one away.

_Mel_.        She has a brother under my command
                  Like her, a face as womanish as hers,
                  But with a spirit that hath much out-grown
                  The number of his years.

                                                       [_Enter Amintor_.

_Cle_.        My Lord the Bridegroom!

_Mel_.        I might run fiercely, not more hastily
                  Upon my foe: I love thee well _Amintor_,
                  My mouth is much too narrow for my heart;
                   I joy to look upon those eyes of thine;
                  Thou art my friend, but my disorder'd speech cuts off
                  my love.

_Amin_.     Thou art _Melantius_;
                  All love is spoke in that, a sacrifice
                  To thank the gods, _Melantius_ is return'd
                  In safety; victory sits on his sword
                  As she was wont; may she build there and dwell,
                  And may thy Armour be as it hath been,
                  Only thy valour and thy innocence.
                  What endless treasures would our enemies give,
                  That I might hold thee still thus!

_Mel_.        I am but poor in words, but credit me young man,
                  Thy Mother could no more but weep, for joy to see thee
                  After long absence; all the wounds I have,
                  Fetch not so much away, nor all the cryes
                  Of Widowed Mothers: but this is peace;
                  And what was War?

_Amin_.      Pardon thou holy God
                  Of Marriage bed, and frown not, I am forc't
                  In answer of such noble tears as those,
                  To weep upon my Wedding day.

_Mel_.        I fear thou art