Kings and rulers -- Drama; Revenge -- Drama; Tragedies (Drama)
_Cal_. If I say I will not, he will kill me, I do see't writ
In his looks; and should I say I will, he'l run
and tell the
King: I do not shun your friendship
dear _Melantius_,
But this cause is weighty, give me but an hour
to think.
_Mel_. Take it--I know this goes unto the King,
But I am arm'd.
[_Ex. Melant_.
_Cal_. Me thinks I feel my self
But twenty now agen; this fighting fool
Wants Policy; I shall revenge my Girl,
And make her red again; I pray, my legs
Will last that pace that I will carry them,
I shall want breath before I find the King.
_Actus Quartus_.
_Enter_ Melantius, Evadne, _and a_ Lady.
_Mel_. Save you.
_Evad_. Save you sweet Brother.
_Mel_. In my blunt eye methinks you look _Evadne_.
_Evad_. Come, you would make me blush.
_Mel_. I would _Evadne_, I shall displease my ends else.
_Evad_. You shall if you command me; I am bashful;
Come Sir, how do I look?
_Mel_. I would not have your women hear me
Break into commendation of you, 'tis not seemly.
_Evad_. Go wait me in the Gallery--now speak.
_Mel_. I'le lock the door first.
[_Exeunt Ladies_.
_Evad_. Why?
_Mel_. I will not have your guilded things that dance in
visitation with their Millan skins choke up my business.
_Evad_. You are strangely dispos'd Sir.
_Mel_. Good Madam, not to make you merry.
_Evad_. No, if you praise me, 'twill make me sad.
_Mel_. Such a sad commendation I have for you.
_Evad_. Brother, the Court hath made you witty,
And learn to riddle.
_Mel_. I praise the Court for't; has it learned you nothing?
_Evad_. Me?
_Mel_. I _Evadne_, thou art young and handsom,
A Lady of a sweet complexion,
And such a flowing carriage, that it cannot
Chuse but inflame a Kingdom.
_Evad_. Gentle Brother!
_Mel_. 'Tis yet in thy remembrance, foolish woman,
To make me gentle.
_Evad_. How is this?
_Mel_. 'Tis base,
And I could blush at these years, through all
My honour'd scars, to come to such a parly.
_Evad_. I understand you not.
_Mel_. You dare not, Fool;
They that commit thy faults, fly the remembrance.
_Evad_. My faults, Sir! I would have you know I care not
If they were written here, here in my forehead.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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