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    The Mad Lover The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (3 of 10)
    The Mad Lover The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (3 of 10)
    The Mad Lover The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (3 of 10)
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    The Mad Lover The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (3 of 10)

    By Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    The Mad Lover The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (3 of 10)

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      The Mad Lover The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (3 of 10) - Francis Beaumont

      Project Gutenberg's The Mad Lover, by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: The Mad Lover

      The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (3 of 10)

      Author: Francis Beaumont

      John Fletcher

      Release Date: January 18, 2011 [EBook #35000]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAD LOVER ***

      Produced by Jonathan Ingram and the Online Distributed

      Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      FRANCIS BEAUMONT

      Born 1584

      Died 1616

      JOHN FLETCHER

      Born 1579

      Died 1625

      BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER

      THE MAD LOVER

      THE LOYAL SUBJECT

      RULE A WIFE, AND HAVE A WIFE

      THE LAWS OF CANDY

      THE FALSE ONE

      THE LITTLE FRENCH LAWYER

      THE TEXT EDITED BY

      A. R. WALLER, M.A.

      Cambridge:

      at the University Press

      1906

      CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,

      C. F. CLAY, Manager.

      London: FETTER LANE, E.C.

      Glasgow: 50, WELLINGTON STREET.

      Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS.

      New York: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

      Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.

      [All Rights reserved.]

      THE

      MAD LOVER,

      A

      TRAGI-COMEDY.

      Persons Represented in the Play.

      Astorax, King of Paphos.

      Memnon, the General and the Mad Lover.

      Polydor, Brother to Memnon, beloved of Calis.

      Eumenes, } two eminent Souldiers.

      Polybius,

      Chilax, an old merry Souldier.

      Syphax, a Souldier in love with the Princess.

      Stremon, a Souldier that can sing.

      Demagoras, Servant to the General.

      Chirurgion.

      Fool.

      Page.

      Courtiers.

      WOMEN.

      Calis, Sister to the King, and Mistris to Memnon.

      Cleanthe Sister to Syphax.

      Lucippe, one of the Princesses Women.

      Priest of Venus, an old wanton.

      A Nun.

      Cloe, a Camp Baggage.

      The Scene Paphos.

      The principal Actors were,

      Richard Burbadge.

      Robert Benfeild.

      Nathanael Feild.

      Henry Condel.

      John Lowin.

      William Eglestone.

      Richard Sharpe.

      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 Gods 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 shell 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

      within.

      Are those that beat Eumenes?

      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 God 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 God 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: Balls 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

      and talks with him.

      We must now treat of peace Sir.

      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 Lordship's viewing

      Our Fortifications.

      Lucip. If he mount at me,

      I

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