Arb. One call the queen. Mar. Why, she is there. Arb. The queen, Mardonius? Panthea is the queen, And I am plain Arbaces. She is in Gobrias' house. There are a thousand things You little dream of.

Mar. So it should seem.

What fury's this?

Go, some one! Since I saw you, deliver❜d to me, [Exit a gentleman. My lord,

Gob. Believe me, 'tis no fury;

All that he says is truth.

Mar. 'Tis very strange.

Arb. Why do you keep your hats off, gentle.
men?

Is it to me! I swear it must not be;
Nay, trust me, in good faith, it must not be!
I cannot now command you; but I pray you,
For the respect you bare me when you took
Me for your king, each man clap on his hat
At my desire.

Mar. We will. You are not found

So mean a man, but that you may be cover'd
As well as we; may you not?

Arb. Oh, not here!

You may, but not I, for here is my father In presence.

Mar. Where?

Arb. Why, there. Oh, the whole story
Would be a wilderness, to lose thyself
For ever. Oh, pardon me, dear father,

For all the idle and unreverend words
That I have spoke in idle moods to you!
I am Arbaces; we all fellow-subjects;
Nor is the queen Panthea now my sister.

Bes. Why, if you remember, fellow-subject Arbaces, I told you once she was not your sister: Ay, and she look'd nothing like you.

Arb. I think you did, good captain Bessus.

Bes. Here will arise another question now amongst the sword-men, whether I be to call him to account for beating me, now he is prov'd No King.

Enter LYGOnes.

Mar. Sir, here's Lygones, the agent for the Armenian state.

Arb. Where is he? I know your business, good Lygones.

Lyg. We must have our king again, and will. Arb. I knew that was your business: You shall have

Your king again; and have him so again,
As never king was had. Go, one of you,
And bid Bacurius bring Tigranes hither;
And bring the lady with him, that Panthea,
The queen Panthea, sent me word this morning
Was brave Tigranes' mistress.

Lyg. 'Tis Spaconia.
Arb. Ay, ay, Spaconia.
Lyg. She is my daughter.

[Exe. two gentlemen.

Arb. She is so. I could now tell any thing

I never heard. Your king shall go so home, As never man went.

Mar. Shall he go on's head?

Arb. He shall have chariots easier than air, That I will have invented; and ne'er think He shall pay any ransom! And thyself, That art the messenger, shall ride before him On a horse cut out of an entire diamond, That shall be made to go with golden wheels, I know not how yet.

Lyg. Why, I shall be made

For ever! They bely'd this king with us,
And said he was unkind.

Arb. And then, thy daughter;

She shall have some strange thing; we'll have the kingdom

Sold utterly, and put into a toy,
Which she shall wear about her carelessly,
Somewhere or other. See, the virtuous queen!

Behold the humblest subject that you have,
Kneel here before you.

Enter PANTHEA and 1 Gentleman.
Pan. Why kneel you to me,

That am your vassal?

Arb. Grant me one request.

Pan. Alas! what can I grant you? what I can I will.

Arb. That you will please to marry me, If I can prove it lawful.

Pan. Is that all!

ance,

Than I my liberty.

Arb. May'st thou be happy

In thy fair choice, for thou art temperate!
You owe no ransom to the state. Know, that
I have a thousand joys to tell you of,
Which yet I dare not utter, 'till I pay
My thanks to Heaven for 'em. Will you go
With me, and help me? pray you, do.
Tigr. I will.

Arb. Take then your fair one with you: And you, queen

Of goodness and of us, oh, give me leave
To take your arm in mine! Come, every one
That takes delight in goodness, help to sing
Loud thanks for me, that I am prov'd No King!
[Exeunt omnes.

Cleon. The rest are making ready, sir. Lys. So let them; there is time enough. Diph. You are the brother to the king, my lord; and we'll take your word.

Lys. Strato, thou hast some skill in poetry: What think'st thou of the masque? Will it be well?

Strat. As well as masque can be.
Lys. As masque 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. They are tied to rules of flattery.

Cle. See, good my lord, who is returned !
Enter MELANTIUS.

Lys. Noble Melantius! the land, by me,

Welcomes thy virtues home to Rhodes.
Thou, that with blood abroad buyest us our peace!
The breath of kings is like the breath of gods;
My brother wished 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 his, or all the world's.

Mel. My lord, my thanks; but these scratch'd

limbs of mine

Have spoke my love and truth unto my friends, More than my tongue e'er 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 rejoices not at your return
In safety, is mine enemy for ever.

Mel. I thank thee, Diphilus. But thou art faulty;

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 straight 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 masque to-night, and you must tread

A soldier's measure.

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 watery eyes Bent on the earth. The unfrequented woods

me:

The music must be shrill, and all confused, 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. 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 returned (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 performed.

Enter ASPATIA, passing by.

Hail, maid and wife!

Thou fair Aspatia, may the holy knot,

That thou hast tied to-day, last till the hand
Of age undo it! mayest thou bring a race
Unto Amintor, that may fill the world
Successively with soldiers!

Asp. My hard fortunes

Deserve not scorn; for I was never proud,

When they were good.

Mel. How is 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

[Exit.

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 virtuous sister.

VOL. I.

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 them, and strew her over like a corse.
She carries with her an infectious grief,
That strikes all her beholders; she will sing
The mournfull'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'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.

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 stul thus !

Mel. I am but, poor

In words; but credit me, young man, thy mother
Could do no more but weep for joy to see thee
After long absence: All the wounds, I have,
Fetch'd not so much away, nor all the cries
Of widowed mothers. But this is peace,
And that was war.

Amin. Pardon, thou holy god

Of marriage-bed, and frown not; I am forc'd,

E

rence,

If it were temperate; but testy years
Are most contemptible.

Amin. Good sir, forbear.

Cal. There is just such another as yourself. Amin. He will wrong you, or me, or any man, And talk as if he had no life to lose, Since this our match. The king is coming in: I would not for more wealth than I enjoy, He should perceive you raging. He did hear You were at difference now, which hastened him. Cal. Make room there! [Hautboys play within. Enter KING, EVADNE, ASPATIA, lords, and ladies.

King. Melantius, thou art welcome, and my
love

Is with thee still: But this is not a place
To brabble in. Calianax, join hands.

Cal. He shall not have my hand.
King. This is no time

To force you to it. I do love you both:
Calianax, you look well to your office;
And you, Melantius, are welcome home.
Begin the masque!

Mel. Sister, I joy to see you, and your choice. You looked with my eyes, when you took that

man:

And send a beam upon my swarthy face; By which I may discover all the place And persons, and how many longing eyes Are come to wait on our solemnities.

Enter CINTHIA.

How dull and black am I! I could not find
This beauty without thee, I am so blind.
Methinks, they shew like to those eastern streaks,
That warn us hence, before the morning breaks.
Back, my pale servant, for these eyes know how
To shoot far more and quicker rays than thou.
Cinth. Great queen, they be a troop, for whom
alone

One of my clearest moons I have put on;
A troop, that looks as if thyself and I
Had pluck'd our reins in, and our whips laid by,
To gaze upon
these mortals, that appear
Brighter than we.

Night. Then let us keep 'em here;
And never more our chariots drive away,
But hold our places, and out-shine the day.

Cinth. Great queen of shadows, you are plea-
sed to speak

Of more than may be done: We may not break The gods' decrees; but, when our time is come, Must drive away, and give the day our room.

Night. Then shine at full, fair queen, and by thy pow'r

Produce a birth, to crown this happy hour, Of nymphs and shepherds: Let their songs discover,

Or, if thou woo't, then call thine own Endy-
Easy and sweet, who is a happy lover.
mion,

From the sweet flow'ry bed he lies upon,
On Latmus' top, thy pale beams drawn away;
And of this long night let him make a day.

Cinth. Thou dream'st, dark queen; that fair boy was not mine,

Nor went I down to kiss him. Ease and wine Have bred these bold tales: Poets, when they

rage,

Turn gods to men, and make an hour an age.
But I will give a greater state and glory,
And raise to time a noble memory
Of what these lovers are. Rise, rise, I say,
Thou pow'r of deeps; thy surges lade
Neptune, great king of waters, and by me
away,
Be proud to be commanded.