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John Fletcher · Barroco

The Maid's Tragedy — Act 1 Sc 1

inglés

Enter Cleon, Strato, Lysippus, and Diphilus.

He that rejoices 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 Arms

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 was 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 Soldier's 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 Arms:

But is Amintor wed?

Diph.This Day.

Mel.All Joys upon him, for he is 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 Virtue 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.

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 about her, and strikes dead

With flashes of her Eye; the fair Evadne, your virtuous 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 father's 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 warry 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 e'er she end,

She'll 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.

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 Cries

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'd,

In answer of such noble Tears as those,

To weep upon my Wedding-day.

Mel.I fear thou art grown too sick; for I hear

A Lady mourns for thee; Men say, to Death,

Forsaken of thee, on what Terms I know not.

Amin.She had my Promise; but the King forbade it,

And made me make this worthy Change, thy Sister,

Accompanied with Graces above her;

With whom I long to lose my lusty Youth,

And grow old in her Arms.

Mel.Be prosperous!

Enter Messenger.

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Autor
John Fletcher
Título
The Maid's Tragedy — Act 1 Sc 1
Lengua
inglés
Época
Barroco
Sala
La Biblioteca
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ws-en-the-maid-s-tragedy-act-1-sc-1--john-fletcher-ba871c
Cita recomendada
John Fletcher, «The Maid's Tragedy — Act 1 Sc 1», Poetósfera, poetosfera.com/p/ws-en-the-maid-s-tragedy-act-1-sc-1--john-fletcher-ba871c.html

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