_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!