The Maids Tragedy Part 23

_Asp_. Oh, oh, oh!

_Amint_. This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feel A stark affrighted motion in my blood; My soul grows weary of her house, and I All over am a trouble to my self; There is some hidden power in these dead things That calls my flesh into'em; I am cold; Be resolute, and bear'em company: There's something yet which I am loth to leave.

There's man enough in me to meet the fears That death can bring, and yet would it were done; I can find nothing in the whole discourse Of death, I durst not meet the boldest way; Yet still betwixt the reason and the act, The wrong I to _Aspatia_ did stands up, I have not such a fault to answer, Though she may justly arm with scorn And hate of me, my soul will part less troubled, When I have paid to her in tears my sorrow: I will not leave this act unsatisfied, If all that's left in me can answer it.

_Asp_. Was it a dream? there stands _Amintor_ still: Or I dream still.

_Amint_. How dost thou? speak, receive my love, and help: Thy blood climbs up to his old place again: There's hope of thy recovery.

_Asp_. Did you not name _Aspatia_?

_Amint_. I did.

_Asp_. And talkt of tears and sorrow unto her?

_Amint_. 'Tis true, and till these happy signs in thee Did stay my course, 'twas thither I was going.

_Asp_. Th'art there already, and these wounds are hers: Those threats I brought with me, sought not revenge, But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand, I am _Aspatia_ yet.

_Amint_. Dare my soul ever look abroad agen?

_Asp_. I shall live _Amintor_; I am well: A kind of healthful joy wanders within me.

_Amint_. The world wants lines to excuse thy loss: Come let me bear thee to some place of help.

_Asp_. _Amintor_ thou must stay, I must rest here, My strength begins to disobey my will.

How dost thou my best soul? I would fain live, Now if I could: would'st thou have loved me then?

_Amint_. Alas! all that I am's not worth a hair from thee.

_Asp_. Give me thy hand, mine hands grope up and down, And cannot find thee; I am wondrous sick: Have I thy hand _Amintor_?

_Amint_. Thou greatest blessing of the world, thou hast.

_Asp_. I do believe thee better than my sense.

Oh! I must go, farewell.

_Amint_. She swounds: _Aspatia_ help, for Heavens sake water; Such as may chain life for ever to this frame.

_Aspatia_, speak: what no help? yet I fool, I'le chafe her temples, yet there's nothing stirs; Some hidden Power tell her that _Amintor_ calls, And let her answer me: _Aspatia_, speak.

I have heard, if there be life, but bow The body thus, and it will shew it self.

Oh she is gone! I will not leave her yet.

Since out of justice we must challenge nothing; I'le call it mercy if you'l pity me, You heavenly powers, and lend for some few years, The blessed soul to this fair seat agen.

No comfort comes, the G.o.ds deny me too.

I'le bow the body once agen: _Aspatia_!

The soul is fled for ever, and I wrong My self, so long to lose her company.

Must I talk now? Here's to be with thee love.

[_Kills himself_.

_Enter_ Servant.

_Ser_. This is a great grace to my Lord, to have the new King come to him; I must tell him, he is entring.

O Heaven help, help;

_Enter_ Lysip. Melant. Cal. Cleon, Diph. Strato.

_Lys_. Where's _Amintor_?

_Strat_. O there, there.

_Lys_. How strange is this!

_Cal_. What should we do here?

_Mel_. These deaths are such acquainted things with me, That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand Stiff here for ever; eyes, call up your tears; This is _Amintor_: heart he was my friend; Melt, now it flows; _Amintor_, give a word To call me to thee.

_Amint_. Oh!

_Mel_. _Melantius_ calls his friend _Amintor_; Oh thy arms Are kinder to me than thy tongue; Speak, speak.

_Amint_. What?

_Mel_. That little word was worth all the sounds That ever I shall hear agen.

_Diph_. O brother! here lies your Sister slain; You lose your self in sorrow there.

_Mel_. Why _Diphilus_, it is A thing to laugh at in respect of this; Here was my Sister, Father, Brother, Son; All that I had; speak once again; What youth lies slain there by thee?

_Amint_. 'Tis _Aspatia_.

My senses fade, let me give up my soul Into thy bosom.

_Cal. What's that? what's that? _Aspatia_!

_Mel_. I never did repent the greatness of my heart till now; It will not burst at need.

_Cal_. My daughter dead here too! and you have all fine new tricks to grieve; but I ne're knew any but direct crying.

_Mel_. I am a pratler, but no more.

_Diph_. Hold Brother.

_Lysip_. Stop him.

_Diph_. Fie; how unmanly was this offer in you!

Does this become our strain?

_Cal_. I know not what the mat[t]er is, but I am Grown very kind, and am friends with you; You have given me that among you will kill me Quickly; but I'le go home, and live as long as I can.

_Mel_. His spirit is but poor that can be kept From death for want of weapons.

Is not my hand a weapon good enough To stop my breath? or if you tie down those, I vow _Amintor_ I will never eat, Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that That may preserve life; this I swear to keep.