THE LOVER'S MELANCHÓLY.

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

gers?

Pel. From travels, noble sir.

Men.

If my experience hath not, truant-like,

These are delights;

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

I will not stretch

As easily as if you slept i' the court.
Pel. Indeed! is't true, I pray?
Men.
Your faith upon the tenters.-Prithee, Pelias,
Where didst thou learn this language?

I 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?

Does the court

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

Amet.

It does.

If thou mean'st the prince,

He's the same melancholy man

He was at's father's death; sometimes speaks sense,

But seldom mirth; will smile, but seldom laugh;
Will lend an ear to business, deal in none;
Gaze upon revels, antic fopperies,

But is not moved; will sparingly discourse,
Hear music; but what most he takes delight in
Are handsome pictures. One so young and goodly,
So sweet in his own nature, any story

Hath seldom mentioned.

Men.

Why should such as I am

Groan under the light burthen of small sorrows,
Whenas a prince so potent cannot shun
Motions of passion ? To be man, my lord,
Is to be but the exercise of cares

In several shapes: as miseries do grow,

They alter as men's forms; but how none know.
Amet. This little isle of Cyprus sure abounds
In greater wonders both for change and fortune
Than any you have seen abroad.

I have observed abroad: all countries else

To a free eye and mind yield something rare;
And I, for my part, have brought home one jewel
Of admirable value.

Amet.

Jewel, Menaphon!

Men. A jewel, my Amethus, a fair youth;
A youth, whom, if I were but superstitious,
I should repute an excellence more high
Than mere creations are: to add delight,
I'll tell ye how I found him.

Amet.

Prithee do.

Men. Passing from Italy to Greece, the tales Which poets of an elder time have feigned

Sorrow.

To glorify their Tempe, bred in me
Desire of visiting that paradise.

To Thessaly I came; and living private,

Without acquaintance of more sweet companions
Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts,

I day by day frequented silent groves
And solitary walks. One morning early
This accident encountered me: I heard
The sweetest and most ravishing contention
That art and nature ever were at strife in.1
Amet. I cannot yet conceive what you infer
By art and nature.

Men.

I shall soon resolve ye.
A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather
Indeed entranced my soul. As I stole nearer,
Invited by the melody, I saw

This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lute,
With strains of strange variety and harmony,
Proclaiming, as it seemed, so bold a challenge
To the clear quiristers of the woods, the birds,
That, as they flocked about him, all stood silent,
Wondering at what they heard. I wondered too.
Amet. And so do I; good, on!

A nightingale,

Men.
Nature's best skilled musician, undertakes

The challenge, and for every several strain

The well-shaped youth could touch, she sung her own;
He could not run division with more art

Upon his quaking instrument than she,
The nightingale, did with her various notes
Reply to for a voice and for a sound,
Amethus, 'tis much easier to believe

That such they were than hope to hear again.
Amet. How did the rivals part?

1 Vide (Ford says) Fami. Stradam, lib. ii. Prolus. 6. Acad. 2. Imitat. Claudian. This story has been paraphrased by Crashaw, Ambrose Philips, and others.