The Mad Lover Part 1

The Mad Lover.

by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher.

_Actus primus. Scena prima._

_Flourish._ _Enter_ Astorax _King of_ Paphos, _his Sister_ Calis, _Train_, _and_ Cleanthe, Lucippe _Gentlewomen, at one door; at the other_ Eumenes _a Souldier_.

_Eume._ Health to my Soveraign.

_King._ _Eumenes_, welcome: Welcome to _Paphos_, Souldier, to our love, And that fair health ye wish us, through the Camp May it disperse it self, and make all happy; How does the General, the valiant _Memnon_, And how his Wars, _Eumenes_?

_Eume._ The G.o.ds have giv'n you (Royal Sir) a Souldier, Better ne're sought a danger, more approv'd In way of War, more master of his fortunes, Expert in leading 'em; in doing valiant, In following all his deeds to Victories, And holding fortune certain there.

_King._ O Souldier, Thou speak'st a man indeed; a Generals General, A soul conceiv'd a Souldier.

_Eumen._ Ten set Battels Against the strong usurper _Diocles_ (Whom long experience had begot a Leader, Ambition rais'd too mighty) hath your _Memnon_ Won, and won gloriously, distrest and shook him Even from the head of all his hopes to nothing: In three, he beat the Thunder-bolt his Brother, Forc'd him to wall himself up: there not safe, Shook him with warlike Engins like an Earthquake, Till like a Snail he left his sh.e.l.l and crawl'd By night and hideous darkness to destruction: Disarm'd for ever rising more: Twelve Castles, Some thought impregnable; Towns twice as many; Countries that like the wind knew no command But savage wildness, hath this General With loss of blood and youth, through Storms and Tempests Call'd to your fair obedience.

_King._ O my Souldier That thou wert now within my arms; what drums { _Drums Are those that beat _Eumenes_? { within._

_Eumen._ His, my Soveraign; Himself i'th' head of conquest drawing home, An old man now to offer up his glories, And endless conquest at your shrine.

_King._ Goe all, And entertain him with all Ceremonie, We'l keep him now a Courtier.

_Eumen._ Sir, a strange one, Pray G.o.d his language bear it; by my life, Sir He knows no complement, nor curious casting Of words into fit places e're he speak 'em, He can say fight well fellow, and I'le thank thee: He that must eat, must fight; bring up the rear there, Or charge that wing of horse home. [_Flourish._

_King._ Goe too, goe too.

_Enter_ Memnon, _and a train of Courtiers, and Souldiers, two Captains_, Chilax.

Valiant and wise are twins Sir: welcom, welcom, Welcom my fortunate and famous General, High in thy Princes favour, as in fame, Welcom to Peace, and _Paphos_.

_Mem._ Thank your Grace, And would to G.o.d my dull tongue had that sweetness To thank you as I should; but pardon me, My sword and I speak roughly Sir: your battels I dare well say, I have fought well; for I bring ye That lazie end you wish for Peace, so fully, That no more name of war is: who now thinks Sooner or safer these might have been ended, Begin 'em if he dare again; I'le thank him.

Souldier and Souldiers Mate these twenty five years, At length your General, (as one whose merit Durst look upon no less,) I have waded through Dangers would damp these soft souls, but to hear of.

The maidenheads of thousand lives hang here Sir, Since which time Prince, I know no Court but Marshal, No oylie language, but the shock of Arms, No dalliance but with death; No lofty measures But weary and sad marches, cold and hunger, Larums at midnight Valours self would shake at, Yet I ne're shrunk: b.a.l.l.s of consuming Wildfire, That lickt men up like lightning, have I laught at, And tost 'em back again like childrens trifles.

Upon the edges of my Enemies swords I have marcht like whirle-winds, fury at this hand waiting, Death at my right; Fortune my forlorn hope, When I have grapled with destruction, And tug'd with pale fac'd Ruine, Night and Mischief, Frighted to see a new day break in bloud; And every where I conquer'd; and for you Sir, Mothers have wanted wombs to make me famous, And blown ambition, dangers; Those that griev'd ye, I have taken order for i'th' earth: those fools That shall hereafter--

_King._ No more wars my Souldier: { _K. takes_ Mem. _aside We must now treat of peace Sir. { and talks with him_.

_Clean._ How he talks, How gloriously.

_Cal._ A goodly timber'd fellow, Valiant no doubt.

_Cle._ If valour dwell in vaunting; In what a phrase he speaks, as if his actions Could be set off in nothing but a noise; Sure h'as a drum in's mouth.

_Cal._ I wonder wenches How he would speak to us.

_Clean._ Nothing but Larum, Tell us whose throat he cut, shew us his sword, And bless it for sure biting.

_Lucippe._ And 't like your Grace, I do not think he knows us what we are, Or to what end; for I have heard his followers Affirm he never saw a woman that exceeded A Sutlers wife yet, or in execution Old bedrid Beldames without teeth or tongues, That would not flie his furie? how he looks.

_Clea._ This way devoutly.

_Cal._ Sure his Lords.h.i.+p's viewing Our Fortifications.

_Lucip._ If he mount at me, I may chance choak his Battery.

_Cal._ Still his eye Keeps quarter this way: _Venus_ grant his valour Be not in love.

_Clean._ If he be, presently Expect a Herald and a Trumpet with ye To bid ye render; we two Perdu's pay for't else.

_King._ I'le leave ye to my sister, and these Ladies To make your welcom fuller: my good souldier We must now turn your sternness into Courts.h.i.+p; When ye have done there, to your fair repose Sir: [_Flourish._ I know you need it _Memnon_; welcom Gentlemen. [_Exit_ King.

_Luci._ Now he begins to march: Madam the Van's yours, Keep your ground sure; 'tis for your spurrs.

_Mem._ O _Venus_. { { _He kneels amaz'd, _Cal._ How he stares on me. { and forgets to speak._

_Clean._ Knight him Madam, knight him, He will grow toth' ground else.

_Eumenes._ Speak Sir, 'tis the Princess.

_1 Cap._ Ye shame your self, speak to her.

_Cal._ Rise and speak Sir.

Ye are welcome to the Court, to me, to all Sir.

_Lucip._ Is he not deaf?

_Cal._ The Gentleman's not well.

_Eumen._ Fie n.o.ble General.

_Lucip._ Give him fresh air, his colour goes, how do ye?

The Princess will be glad Sir.

_Mem._ Peace, and hear me.

_Clean._ Command a silence there.

_Mem._ I love thee Lady.

_Cal._ I thank your Lords.h.i.+p heartily: proceed Sir.

_Lucip._ Lord how it stuck in's stomach like a surfeit.

_Clean._ It breaks apace now from him, G.o.d be thanked, What a fine spoken man he is.