The Maids Tragedy - Beaumont Francis

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but he

                         Has not my will in keeping—why do I

                         Perplex my self thus? something whispers me,

                         Go not to bed; my guilt is not so great

                         As mine own conscience (too sensible)

                         Would make me think; I only brake a promise,

                         And 'twas the King that forc't me: timorous flesh,

                         Why shak'st thou so? away my idle fears.

      [Enter Evadne.

                        Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye

                        Can blot away the sad remembrance

                        Of all these things: Oh my Evadne, spare

                        That tender body, let it not take cold,

                        The vapours of the night will not fall here.

                        To bed my Love; Hymen will punish us

                        For being slack performers of his rites.

                        Cam'st thou to call me?

      Evad. No.

      Amin. Come, come my Love, And let us lose our selves to one another. Why art thou up so long?

      Evad. I am not well.

      Amint. To bed then let me wind thee in these arms, Till I have banisht sickness.

      Evad. Good my Lord, I cannot sleep.

      Amin. Evadne, we'l watch, I mean no sleeping.

      Evad. I'le not go to bed.

      Amin. I prethee do.

      Evad. I will not for the world.

      Amin. Why my dear Love?

      Evad. Why? I have sworn I will not.

      Amin. Sworn!

      Evad. I.

      Amint. How? Sworn Evadne?

      Evad. Yes, Sworn Amintor, and will swear again If you will wish to hear me. 0 Amin. To whom have you Sworn this?

      Evad. If I should name him, the matter were not great.

      Amin. Come, this is but the coyness of a Bride.

      Evad. The coyness of a Bride?

      Amin. How prettily that frown becomes thee!

      Evad. Do you like it so?

      Amin. Thou canst not dress thy face in such a look But I shall like it.

      Evad. What look likes you best?

      Amin. Why do you ask?

      Evad. That I may shew you one less pleasing to you.

      Amin. How's that?

      Evad. That I may shew you one less pleasing to you.

      Amint. I prethee put thy jests in milder looks. It shews as thou wert angry.

      Evad. So perhaps I am indeed.

      Amint. Why, who has done thee wrong?

                       Name me the man, and by thy self I swear,

                       Thy yet unconquer'd self, I will revenge thee.

      Evad. Now I shall try thy truth; if thou dost love me,

                       Thou weigh'st not any thing compar'd with me;

                       Life, Honour, joyes Eternal, all Delights

                       This world can yield, or hopeful people feign,

                       Or in the life to come, are light as Air

                       To a true Lover when his Lady frowns,

                       And bids him do this: wilt thou kill this man?

                       Swear my Amintor, and I'le kiss the sin off from

                       thy lips.

      Amin. I will not swear sweet Love,

                       Till I do know the cause.

      Evad. I would thou wouldst;

                       Why, it is thou that wrongest me, I hate thee,

                       Thou shouldst have kill'd thy self.

      Amint. If I should know that, I should quickly kill

                       The man you hated.

      Evad. Know it then, and do't.

      Amint. Oh no, what look soe're thou shalt put on,

                       To try my faith, I shall not think thee false;

                       I cannot find one blemish in thy face,

                       Where falsehood should abide: leave and to bed;

                       If you have sworn to any of the Virgins

                       That were your old companions, to preserve

                       Your Maidenhead a night, it may be done without this

                       means.

      Evad. A Maidenhead Amintor at my years?

      Amint. Sure she raves, this cannot be

                       Thy natural temper; shall I call thy maids?

                       Either thy healthful sleep hath left thee long,

                       Or else some Fever rages in thy blood.

      Evad. Neither Amintor; think you I am mad,

                       Because I speak the truth?

      Amint. Will you not lie with me to night?

      Evad. To night? you talk as if I would hereafter.

      Amint. Hereafter? yes, I do.

      Evad.

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