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PROLOGUE.

To tell ye, gentlemen, in what true sense

The writer, actors, or the audience

Should mould their judgments for a play, might draw
Truth into rules; but we have no such law.
Our writer, for himself, would have ye know
That in his following scenes he doth not owe
To others' fancies, nor hath lain in wait

For any stolen invention, from whose height
He might commend his own, more than the right
A scholar claims,1 may warrant for delight.
It is art's scorn, that some of late have made

The noble use of poetry a trade.

For your parts, gentlemen, to quit his pains,
Yet

you will please, that as you meet with strains
Of lighter mixture, but to cast your eye

Rather upon the main than on the bye,

His hopes stand firm, and we shall find it true,
The LOVER'S MELANCHOLY cured by you.

1 An allusion to his debt to Burton, and to the version of the story of "the Nightingale's death," taken from Strada's Prolusiones Academicæ (i. 1).

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RHETIAS (a reduced Courtier), Servant to EROCLEA.

TROLLIO, Servant to MELEANDER.

GRILLA, a Page of CUCULUS, in woman's dress.

Officers, Attendants, &c.

THAMASTA, Sister of AMETHUS, and Cousin to the

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THE LOVER'S MELANCHOLY.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.-A Room in the Palace.

Enter MENAPHON and PELIAS.

EN. Dangers! how mean you dangers? that so courtly

You gratulate my safe return from dan

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gers ?

Pel. From travels, noble sir.

Men.

These are delights;

If my experience hath not, truant-like,

Misspent the time, which I have strove to use
For bettering my mind with observation.

Pel. As I am modest, I protest 'tis strange.
But is it possible?

Men.

Pel.

What?

To bestride

The frothy foams of Neptune's surging waves,
When blustering Boreas tosseth up the deep
And thumps a thunder-bounce?

Men.

Sweet sir, 'tis nothing:

Straight comes a dolphin, playing near your ship,
Heaving his crooked back up, and presents

A feather-bed to waft ye to the shore

As easily as if you slept i' the court.
Pel. Indeed! is't true, I pray?
Men.

I this language!

I will not stretch
Your faith
upon the tenters.-Prithee, Pelias,
Where didst thou learn this language?
Pel.
Alas, sir, we that study words and forms
Of compliment must fashion all discourse
According to the nature of the subject.
But I am silent:-
:-now appears a sun,
Whose shadow I adore.

Enter AMETHUS, SOPHRONOS, and Attendants. Men.

My honoured father!

Soph. From mine eyes, son of my care, my love,

The joys that bid thee welcome do too much

Speak me a child.

Men.

O princely sir, your hand.

Amet. Perform your duties where you owe them first; I dare not be so sudden in the pleasures

Thy presence hath brought home.

Soph.

Here thou still find'st

A friend as noble, Menaphon, as when

Thou left'st at thy departure.

Men.

To him I owe more service

Amet.

Yes, I know it,

Pray give leave:

He shall attend your entertainments soon,

Next day, and next day: for an hour or two

I would engross him only.

Soph.

Amet. Ye're both dismissed.

Pel.

Noble lord!

Your creature and your servant. [Exeunt all but AMETHUS and MENAPHON.

Amet. Give me thy hand. I will not say, "Thou'rt

welcome;"

That is the common road of common friends.
I'm glad I have thee here-O, I want words
To let thee know my heart!

Men.

'Tis pieced to mine.
Amet. Yes, 'tis; as firmly as that holy thing
Called friendship can unite it. Menaphon,
My Menaphon, now all the goodly blessings.

That can create a Heaven on earth dwell with thee!
Twelve months we have been sundered; but henceforth
We never more will part, till that sad hour
In which death leaves the one of us behind,

To see the other's funerals performed.

Let's now awhile be free.-How have thy travels
Disburthened thee abroad of discontents?

Men. Such cure as sick men find in changing beds

I found in change of airs: the fancy flattered
My hopes with ease, as theirs do but the grief
Is still the same.

Amet.
Such is my case at home.
Cleophila, thy kinswoman, that maid

Of sweetness and humility, more pities
Her father's poor afflictions than the tide
Of my complaints.

Men.

Thamasta, my great mistress,

Your princely sister, hath, I hope, ere this
Confirmed affection on some worthy choice.
Amet. Not any, Menaphon. Her bosom yet
Is intermured with ice; though, by the truth
Of love, no day hath ever passed wherein
I have not mentioned thy deserts, thy constancy,
Thy-Come, in troth, I dare not tell thee what,
Lest thou mightst think I fawned upon a sin
Friendship was never guilty of; for flattery

Is monstrous in a true friend.

Men.

Wear the old looks too?

1

Does the court

1 So the old edition; probably equivalent to "fawned."

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