THE Humorous Lieutenant, OR, Generous Enemies, A COMEDY: As it is now ACTED by His Majesty's Servants, AT THE Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.  
LONDON, Printed for H. N. and Sold by William Chandler at the Peac 〈…〉 the Poultry, and Ralph Smith, at the Bible under the P 〈…〉 the Royal-Exchange in Cornhill. 1697.   

ACTORS NAMES.  

MEN.  Mr. Harland, 
 Mr. Cibber. 
KIng Antigonus, An Old Man with Young Desires. Demetrius, Son to Antigonus', in Love with Celia.  Mr. Simpson, 
 Mr. Disney, 
 Mr. Rogers, 
Seleucus, Charinthus, Menippus, 3 Kings, Equal Sharers with Antigonus, of what Alexander had, with United Powers opposing Antigonus.  Mr. Mills, 
Leontius, A brave Old Merry Soldier, Assistant to Demetrius.  Mr. Fairbank, 
 Mr. Essex, 
 Mr. Provost. 
Timon, Charinthus, Menippus, Servants to Antigonus, and his Vices.  Mr. Pinkeithman, 
The Humorous Lieutenant.  
Gentlemen, Friends and Followers of Demetrius.  
3 Ambassadors from the 3 Kings.  
Gentlemen Ushers.  
Grooms. Musicians.  
Citt's. Soldiers.  
Physicians.  
Herald. Host.   

WOMEN.  Mrs. Verbruggen. 
Celia, alias Evanthe, Daughter to Seleucus, Mistress to Demetrius.  Mrs. Bullock. 
Leucippe a Bawd, Agent to the King's Lust.  
Ladies. Citt's Wives.  Mrs. powel. 
Governess to Celia.  
A Country Woman.  
Phebe her Daughter.    

PLAYS Sold by William Chandler, and Ralph Smith.  
VEry Good Wife.  
Canterbury Guests.  
Lost Lover.  
Brutus of Alba  
Sir Courtly Nice.  
Lancashire Witches.  
Pastor 〈◊〉.  
Country Wit.  
Assignation, or Love in a Nunnery.  
City Politics.  
〈◊〉.  
Villain.  
Theodosius.  
Sir Anthony Love, or the Rambling Lady.  
Humorous Lady.  
Disappointment.  
Fond Husband.  
Woman Captain.  
Woman turned Bully.  
Rival Ladies.  
Wives Excuse.  
Bury Fair.  
Sacrifice.  
Traitor.  
Virtue 〈◊〉.  
Wild Gallant.  
Squire of 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 of a Wife.  
Rovers, by Mrs. Behn.  
Plain Dealer.  
〈◊〉, or Moor's Revenge.  
All for Love.  
Fortune Hunters.  
Don 〈◊〉.  
Venice Preserved.  
〈◊〉.  
Queen.  
Tempest.  
Virtuoso.  
English Lawyer.  
Miser.  
Lucius' Junius Brutus'  
Timon of Athens.  
Marriage-hater Matched.  
Hamlet Prince of Denmark.  
Old Bachelor.  
Regulus.  
Volunteers, or Stockjobbers.  
Intrigues of Versailles.  
Friendship in Fashion.  
Provoked Wife.  
False Count.  
World in the Moon.  
Orphan.  
Sophonisba.  
Country Wife.  
She Woven if She Could.  
Humourist.  
Spanish Wives.  
Royal Shepherd's.  
Anthony and Cleopatra.  
Rule a Wife and have 〈◊〉 Wife.  
City Lady.  
〈◊〉 King of Pontus.  
Titus Andronicus.  
Titus and Berenice.  
Empress of Morocco.  
Widow Ranter.  
Relapse.  
Love's a 〈◊〉.  
Country Wake.  
Love for Money.  
Cyrus' the Great.  
Pyrrhus' King of 〈◊〉.  
Agnes de Castro.  
Woman's 〈◊〉.  
She 〈◊〉.  
Oedipus.  
〈◊〉 the 13th, Emperor of the Turks.   

THE HUMOROUS. LIEUTENANT.  

ACT I. SCENE I  
Enter 2 Ushers, and Grooms with Perfumes. 1 Vsher. 
ROund, round, perfume it round, quick, look ye diligently the state be right; Are these the Richest Cushions? Fie, fie, who waits i'th' Wardrobe?  2 Vsh. 
But pray tell me, do you think for certain these Ambassadors shall have this morning Audience?  1 Vsh. 
They shall have it: Lord, that you live at Court and understand not? I tell you they must have it.  2 Vsh. 
Upon what necessity?  1 Vsh. 
Still you are Ignorant of the Trick of Court, sell your Place.  Enter Ladies and Gentlemen. 
And Sow your Grounds, you are not for this Tillage. Ladies, the best way is the upper Lodgings, there you may see at ease.  Ladies. 
We thank you, Sir.  Exeunt Ladies and Gentlemen. 1 Vsh. 
Would you have all these slighted? Who should report then the Ambassadors were handsome Men? his Beard a neat one? the fire of his eyes quicker than Lightning, and when it breaks, as blasting? his Legs, though little ones, yet movers of a Mass of Understanding? Who shall commend their Clothes: who shall take notice of the most wise behaviour of their Feathers? ye live a raw Man here.  2 Vsh. 
I think I do so.  Enter 2 Citizens, and Wives. 1 Vsh. 
Why, whether would you all press?  1 Cit 
Good Master Vsher.  2 Cit 
My Wife, and some few of my honest Neighbours here.  1 Vsh. 
Prithee be gone thou and thy honest Neighbours, thou look'st like an Ass; why, Whether would you Fish-Face?  2 Cit 
If I might have the honour to see you at my poor House, Sir, a Capon bridled, and saddled I'll assure your Worship, a Shoulder of Mutton, and a Bottle of Wine Sir; I know your Brother, he was as like ye, and shot the best at Butts—  1 Vsh. 
A— upon thee.  2 Cit 
Some Music I'll assure you too, my Toy, Sir, can play o'th' Virginals.  1 Vsh. 
Prithee good Toy take away thy Shoulder of Mutton, it is Flyblown, and Shoulder, take thy Flap along, here's no place for ye; nay than you had best knocked.  Ex. Cit Enter Celia. Cel. 
I would fain see him  
The glory of this place, makes me remember,  
But die those thoughts, die all but my desires,  
Even those to death are sick too; he's not here,  
Nor how my eyes may guide me—  1 Vsh. 
What's your business? who keeps the outward door there? here's fine shuffling, you wastcoateer you must go back.  Cel. 
There is not,  
There cannot be, six days and never see me?  
There must not be desire; Sir, Do you think  
That if you had a Mistress—  1 Vsh. 
Death, she is Mad.  Cel. 
And were yourself an honest Man? it cannot—  1 Vsh. 
What a Devil hast thou to do with me or my honesty? Will you be jogging, good nimble Tongue? my fellow Doorkeeper?  2 Vsh. 
Prithee let her alone.  1 Vsh. 
The King is coming, and shall we have an Agent from the Suburbs come to crave Audience too?  Cel. 
Before I thought ye  
To have a little Breeding, some tang of Gentry;  
But now I take ye plainly,  
Without the help of any Perspectivo,  
For that ye cannot alter.  1. Vsh. 
What's that?  Cel. 
An Ass, Sir, you Bray as like one,  
And by my Troth, methinks, as ye stand now,  
Considering who to kick next, you appear to me  
Just with that kind of Gravity, and Wisdom;  
Your Place may bear the Name of Gentleman,  
But if any of that Butter stick to your Bread—  2 Vsh. 
You must be modester.  Cel. 
Let him use me nobler,  
And wear good Clothes to do good Ossices;  
They hang upon a Fellow of his Virtue,  
As though they hung on Gibbets.  2 Vsh. 
A perilous Wench.  1 Vsh. 
Thrust her into a corner, I'll no more on her.  2 Vsh. 
You have enough, go pretty Maid, stand close, and use that little Tongue with a little more temper.  Cel. 
I thank ye, Sir.  2 Vsh. 
When the Shows are past, I'll have ye into the Cellar, there we'll Dine, a very pretty 〈◊〉, a witty Rogue, and there we'll be as merry, Can ye be Merry  Cel. 
O very merry.  2 Vsh. 
Only ourselves; this churlish fellow shall not know.  Cel. 
By no means.  2. Vsh. 
And can you love a little?  Cel. 
Love exceedingly:  
I have cause to love you dear sir.  2 Vsh. 
Then I'll carry ye, and show you all the Pictures, and the Hangings, the Lodgings, Gardens, and the Walks: and then (sweet) you shall tell me where you lie.  Cel. 
Yes marry will I.  2 Vsh. 
an't shall go hard but I'll send ye a Venison Pastry, and a Bottle of Wine.  1 Vsh. 
Make room there.  2 Vsh. 
Room there afore, stand close, the Train is coming.  Enter King Antigonous, Timon, Charinthus, Menippus. Cel. 
Have I yet left a Beauty to Catch Fools?  
Yet, yet, I see him not, O what a misery  
Is love, expected long, deluded longer!  Ant. 
Conduct in the Ambassadors.  1 Vsh. 
Make room there.  Ant. 
They shall not wait long Answer—  Cel. 
Yet he comes not.  Enter Three Ambassadors. 
Why are Eyes set on these, and Multitudes  
Follow to make these Wonders? O good gods!  
What would these look like if my Love were here?  
But I am fond, forgetful.  Ant. 
Now your grievance,  
Speak short, and have as short dispatch.  1 Em. 
Then thus, Sir:  
In all our Royal Master's names, We tell you  
Ye have done Injustice, broke the bonds of Concord,  
And from their equal shares from Alexander  
Parted, and so possessed, not like a Brother,  
But as an open Enemy, Ye have hedged in  
Whole Provinces, Maned and maintained these Injuries;  
And daily with your Sword (though they still honour ye)  
Make bloody Roads, take Towns, and ruin Castles,  
And still their sufferance feels the weight.  2 Em. 
Think of that Love, Great Sir, that honoured Friendship  
Yourself hold with our Masters, think of that strength  
When you were all one Body, all one Mind;  
When all your Swords struck one way, when your Anger's,  
Like so many brother billows rose together,  
And curling up your foaming crests, defied  
Even Mighty Kings, and in their falls, entombed 'em:  
O think of these; and you that have been Conquerors,  
That ever led your Fortunes open eyed,  
Chained fast by confidence; you that Fame courted,  
Now ye want Enemies and Men to match ye;  
Let not your own Swords seek your ends to shame ye.  Enter Demetrius with a Javelin, and Gentlemen. 3 Em. 
Choose which you will, or Peace or War,  
We come prepared for either.  1 Vsh. 
Room for the Prince there.  Cel. 
Was it the Prince they said! how my heart trembled!  
'Tis he indeed; What a sweet noble sierceness  
Dwells in his eyes? young Meleager like,  
When he returned from slaughter of the Boar,  
Crowned with the loves and honours of the People,  
With all the gallant youth of Greece, he looks now,  
Who could deny him Love?  Dem. 
Hail Royal Father.  Ant. 
Ye are welcome from your Sport; Sir, Do you see this,  
You that bring Thunders in your mouths, and Earthquakes Gentlemen,  
To shake and totter my Designs? Can you imagine  
(You Men of poor and common apprehensions)  
Whilst I admit this Man, my Son, this nature  
That in one look carries more fire, and sierceness,  
Then all your Masters in their lives: dare I admit him,  
Admit him thus, even to my side, my Bosom,  
When he is fit to rule, when all Men cry him,  
And all hopes hang about his head; thus place him,  
His Weapon hatched in blood, all these attending  
When he shall make their fortunes, all as sudden  
In any Expedition he shall point 'em,  
As Arrows from a Tartar's Bow, and speeding,  
Dare I do this, and fear an Enemy?  
Fear your great Master? yours? or yours?  Dem. 
O Hercules,  
Who says you do Sir? Is there any thing  
In these men's Faces, or their Master's actions  
Able to work such wonders?  Cel. 
Now of speaks:  
O I could dwell upon that Tongue for ever.  Dem. 
You call 'em Kings, they never wore those Royalties  
Nor in the progress of their Lives arrived yet  
At any thought of King: Imperial Dignities,  
And powerful Godlike actions sit for Princes,  
They can no more put on, and make 'em sit right,  
Then I can with this Mortal hand hold Heaven:  
Poor petty Men, nor have I yet forgot  
The chiefest honours time, and merit gave 'em:  
Lysimachus your Master, at his best,  
His highest, and his hopefullest dignities  
Was but Grand master of the Elephants;  
Seleucus of the Treasure; and for Ptolemy,  
A thing not thought on then, scarce heard of yet,  
Some Master of Ammunition: and must these Men—  Cel. 
What a brave confidence flows from his spirit?  
O sweet young Man!  Dem. 
Must these hold pace with us,  
And on the same Field hang their Memories?  
Must these examine what the Wills of Kings are?  
Prescribe to their designs, and chain their Actions  
To their Restraints? be Friends, and Foes when they please?  
Send out their Thunders, and their Menaces,  
As if the fate of Mortal things were theirs?  
Go home, good Men, and tell your Masters from us,  
We do 'em too much honour to force 〈◊〉 'em  
Their barren Countries, ruin their vast Cities,  
And tell 'em, out of Love, we mean to leave 'em  
(Since they will needs be Kings) no more to tread on,  
Then they have able Wits, and Powers to manage,  
And so we shall befriend 'em: Ha? What does she there?  Emb. 
This is your Answer, King.  Ant. 
'Tis like to prove so.  Dem. 
Fie, Sweet, What make you here?  Cel. 
Pray ye do not Chide me.  Dem. 
You do yourself much wrong, and me.  Cel. 
Pray you pardon me,  
I feel my fault, which only was committed.  
Through my dear love to you: I have not seen ye,  
And how can I live then? I have not spoken to ye—  Dem. 
I know this Week ye have not; I will redeem all.  
You are so tender now: think where you are, Sweet.  Cel. 
What other light have I left?  Dem. 
Prithee Celia,  
Indeed, I'll see ye presently.  Cel. 
I have done, Sir:  
You will not miss?  Dem. 
By this, and this, I will not.  Cel. 
'Tis in your will: and I must be obedient.  Dem. 
No more of these Assemblies.  Cel. 
I am commanded.  1 Vsh. 
Room for the Lady there: Madam, my Service—  1 Gent. 
My Coach an't please you, Lady.  2 Vsh. 
Room before there.  2 Gent. 
The honour, Madam, but to wait upon you—  Cel. 
My Servants, and my State:  
Lord, how they flock now?  
Before I was afraid they would have beat me;  
How these flies play i'th' Sunshine? pray ye no services,  
Or if ye needs must play the hobby horses,  
Seek out some beauty that assects 'em: farewell,  
Nay pray ye spare: Gentlemen I am old enough  
To go alone at these years, without Crutches.  Exit. 2. Vsh. 
Well, I could curse now: but that will not help me, I made as sure account of this Wench now, immediately, Do but consider how the devil has crossed me, Meat for my Master she cries, well—  3. Em. 
Once more sir,  
We ask your resolutions: peace or war yet?  Dem. 
War, war, my noble father.  1 Em. 
Thus I fling it:  
And fair eyed peace, farewell.  Ant. 
You have your answer;  
Conduct out the Ambassadors, and give 'em convoys.  Dem, 
Tell your high hearted Masters, they shall not seek us,  
Nor cool i'th' seld in expectation of us,  
We'll ease your men those marches: In their strengths,  
And full abilities of mind and courage,  
We'll find 'em out, and at their best trim buckle with 'em.  3 Em. 
You will find so hot a Soldiers welcome sir,  
Your favour shall not freeze,  2 Em. 
A forward Gentleman,  
Pity the wars should bruise such hopes—  Ant. 
Conduct 'em— Ex- Em.  
Now, For this preparation: where's Leontius?  
Call him in presently: for I mean in person Gentlemen  
Myself, with my old fortune—  Dem. 
Royal sir:  
Thus low I beg this honour: fame already  
Hath every where raised trophies to your glory,  
And conquest now grown old, and weak with following  
The weary marches, and the bloody shocks  
You daily set her in: 'tis now scarce honour  
For you that never knew to sight, but conpuer,  
To sparkle such poor people: the royal Eagle  
When she hath tried her young ones against the Sun,  
And found 'em right; next teacheth ' them to prey,  
How to command on wing, and check below her  
Even birds of noble plume; I am your own Sir,  
You have found my spirit, try it now, and teach it,  
To stoop whole kingdoms: leave a little for me;  
Let not your glory be so greedy sir,  
To eat up all my hopes; you gave me lise,  
If to that life you add not what's more lasting,  
A noble name, for man you have made a shadow;  
Bless me this day: bid me go on, and lead,  
Bid me go on, no less feared, than Antigonus,  
And to my maiden sword, tie fast your fortune;  
I know 'twill sighed itself then: dear sir honour me:  
Never fair virgin longed so.  Ant. 
Rise, and command then,  
And be as fortunate as I expect ye:  
I love that noble will; your young companions  
Bred up and fostered with ye, I hope Demetrius, Enter Leon.  
You will make soldiers too: they must not leave ye.  2 Gent. 
Never till life leave us sir.  Ant. 
O Leontius,  
Here's work for you in hand.  Leon. 
I am even right glad sir.  
For by my troth, I am now grown old with idleness;  
I hear we shall abroad Sir.  Ant. 
Yes, and presently,  
But who thinks you commands now?  Leon. 
Who commands Sir?  
Methinks my eye should guide me: can there be  
(If you yourself will spare him so much honour)  
Any found out to lead before your armies,  
So full of faith, and sire as brave Demetrius?  
King Philip's Son, at his years was an old Soldier,  
'Tis time his fortune be a wing, high time Sir,  
So many idle hours, as here he loiters,  
So many ever-dying names he loses,  
I hope 'tis he.  Ant. 
'Tis he indeed, and nobly  
He shall set forward: draw you all those Garrisons  
Upon the frontiers as you pass: to those  
Join these in pay at home, our ancient soldiers,  
And as you go press all the Provinces.  Leo. 
We shall not need;  
Believe this hopeful Gentleman  
Can want no swords, nor honest hearts to follow him,  
We shall be full, no fear Sir.  Ant. 
You Leontius,  
Because you are an old, and faithful servant,  
And know the wars, with all its vantages,  
Be near to his instructions, lest his youth  
Lose valours best companion, stayed discretion,  
Show where to lead, to lodge, to charge with safety;  
In execution not to break nor scatter,  
But with a proudent anger, follow nobly:  
Not covetous of blood, and death, but honour,  
Be ever near his watches; cheer his labours,  
And where his hope stands fair, provoke his valour;  
Love him, and think it no dishonour (my Demetrius)  
To wear this Jewel near thee; he is a tried one,  
And one that even in spite of time, that sunk him,  
And frosted up his strength, will yet stand by thee.  
And with the proudest of thine enemy's  
Exchange for blood, and bravely: take his counsel.  Leo. 
Your grace hath made me young again, and wanton.  Ant. 
She must be known and suddenly; when you have done  
Come in and take your leave Sir, and some few  
Prayers along.  Ant. 
Do ye know her?  Char. 
No, believe Sir.  Ant. 
Did you observe her Timon?  Tym. 
I looked on her,  
But what she is—  Ant. 
I must have that found.  Tym. 
Well Sir.  Dem. 
I know my duty, Exit. Am.  
You shall be half my father.  Leo. 
All your Servant:  
Come Gentlemen, you are resolved I am sure  
To see these wars.  1 Gent. 
We dare not leave his fortunes,  
Though most assured death hung round about us.  Leo. 
That Bargain's yet to make;  
Be not too hasty, when ye Face the Enemy,  
Nor too ambitious to get honour instantly,  
But Charge within your Bounds, and keep close Bodies,  
And you shall see what sport we'll make these Madcaps  
You shall have Game enough, I warrant ye,  
Every Man's Cock shall Fight.  Dem. 
I must go see, Sir:  
Brave Sir, as soon as I have taken leave,  
I'll meet you in the Park;  
Draw the Men thither,  
Wait you upon Leonitus.  Gent. 
We'll attend Sir.  Lie. 
But I beseech your Grace, with speed; the sooner  
We are i'th' Field—  Dem. 
You could not please me better.  Exit. Leo. 
You never saw the wars yet?  Gent. 
Not yet Colonel.  Leo. 
These foolish Mistresses do so hang about ye,  
So whimper, and so hug, I know it Gentlemen,  
And so entice ye, now ye are i'th' bud;  
And that sweet tilting war, with eyes and kisses,  
Th' alarms of soft vows, and sighs, and fiddle faddles,  
Spoils all our trade: You must forget these knick knacks,  
A woman at some time of the year, I grant ye  
She is necessary; but make no bussiness of her;  
How now Lieutenant?  Enter Lientenant. Lieu. 
Oh Sir, as ill as ever;  
We shall have Wars they say; they are Mustering yonder:  
Would we were at it once: 〈◊〉, how it plagues me.  Le. 
Here's one has served now under Captain Cupid,  
And cracked a Pike in's youth: you see what's come on't.  Lieu. 
No, my Disease will never prove so honourable.  Le. 
Why sure thou hast the best Pox.  Lieu. 
If I have 'em,  
I am sure I got 'em in the best Company;  
They are Pox of thirty Coats.  Le. 
Thou hast mewed 'em finely:  
Here's a strange fellow now, and a brave Fellow,  
If we may say so of a Pocky Fellow,  
(Which I believe we may) this poor Lieutenant;  
Whether he have the Scratches, or the Scabs,  
Or what a Devil it be, I'll say this for him,  
There sights no braver Soldier under Sun, Gentlemen;  
Show him an Enemy, his pain's forgot strait;  
And where other Men, by Beds and Baths have ease,  
And easy Rules of Physic, set him in a danger,  
A danger, that's a fearful one indeed,  
Ye rock him, and he will so play about ye,  
Let it be ten to one, he ne'er comes off agaiu;  
Ye have his heart: and then he works it bravely,  
And throughly bravely: not a Pang remembered:  
I have seen him do such things, belief would shrink at.  Gent. 
'Tis strange he should do all this, and Diseased so.  Leo. 
I am sure 'tis true: Lieutenant, canst thou drink well?  Lieu. 
Would I were drunk, Dog-drunk, I might not feel this.  Gent. 
I would take Physic.  Lieu. 
But I would know my Disease first.  Leon. 
Why? it may be the Colic: Canst thou blow backward?  Lieu. 
There's never a Bagpipe in the Kingdom better.  Gent. 
Is't not a Pleurisy?  Lieu. 
'Tis any thing  
That has the Devil, and Death in't: Will ye March Gentlemen?  
The Prince has taken leave.  Leo. 
How know ye that?  Lie. 
I saw him leave the Court, dispatch his Followers, and met him 〈◊〉 in a bye-street: I think he has some Wench, or such a Toy, to lick over before he go: would I had such another to draw this foolish Pain down.  Leo. 
Let's away Gentlemen,  
The Prince will stay on us.  Gent. 
we'll attend, Sir.  Exeunt.  

Scene 2.  Enter Demetrius, and Celia. Cel. 
Must ye needs go?  Dem. 
Or stay with all dishonour.  Cel. 
Are there not Men enough to Fight?  Dem. 
Fie Celia,  
This ill becomes the noble love you bear me;  
Would you have your Love a Coward?  Cel. 
No; believe Sir,  
I would have him fight, but not so far off from me.  Dem. 
Wouldst have it thus? or thus?  Cel. 
If that be fight—  Dem. 
Ye Wanton Fool: when I come home again  
I'll fight with thee, at thine own Weapon, Celia,  
And conquer thee too.  Cel. 
That you have done already,  
You need no other Arms to me, but these Sir;  
But will you fight yourself Sir?  Dem. 
Thus deep in Blood Dear,  
And through the thickest ranks of Pikes.  Cel. 
Spur bravely,  
Your fiery Courser, beat the Troops before ye,  
And cram the mouth of Death with Executions.  Dem. 
I would do more than these: But prithee tell me,  
Tell me, my Fair, Where got'st thou this Male Spirit?  
I wonder at thy Mind.  Cel. 
Were I a Man, you would wonder more.  Dem. 
Sure thou wouldst prove a Soldier, and some great Leader.  Cel. 
Sure I should do somewhat;  
And the first thing I did, I should grow envious,  
Extremely envious of your Youth, and Honour.  Dem. 
And fight against me?  Cel. 
Ten to one, 〈◊〉 should do it.  Dem. 
Thou wouldst not hurt me?  Cel. 
In this Mind I am in,  
I think I should be hardly brought to strike ye,  
Unless 'twere thus; but in my Man's mind—  Dem. 
What?  Cel. 
I should be Friends with ye too, now I think better.  Dem. 
Ye are a tall Soldier: Here, take these, and these; this Gold to furnish ye, and keep this Bracelet; Why do you weep now? You a Masculine Spirit?  Cel. 
No, I confess, I am a Fool, a Woman:  
And ever when I part with you—  Dem. 
You shall not,  
These tears are like prodigious signs, my sweet one,  
I shall come back, laden with fame, to honour thee.  Cel. 
I hope you shall:  
But then my dear Demetrius,  
When you stand Conqueror, and at your Mercy  
All People bow, and all things wait your sentence;  
Say then your eye (surveying all your conquest)  
Finds out a Beauty, even in sorrow excellent,  
A constant face, that in the midst of ruin  
With a forced smile, both scorns at Fate, and Fortune:  
Say you find such a one, so nobly fortified,  
And in her figure, all the sweets of Nature?  Dem. 
Prithee, no more of this, I cannot find her.  Cel. 
That shows as far beyond my with erred 〈◊〉;  
And will run Mad to love ye too.  Dem. 
Do ye fear me,  
And do you think, besides this Face, this Beauty,  
This Heart, where all my hopes are locked—  Cel. 
I dare not:  
No sure, I think ye honest; wondrous honest.  
Pray do not Frown, I Swear ye are.  Dem. 
Ye may choose.  Cel. 
But how long will ye be away?  Dem. 
I know not.  Cel. 
I know you are angry now: pray look upon me  
I'll ask no more such Questions.  Dem. 
The Drum beats,  
I can no longer stay.  Cel. 
They do but Call yet:  
How fain you would leave my Company.  Dem. 
I would not,  
Unless a greater Power than Love Commanded,  
Commands my Life, mine Honour.  Cel. 
But a little.  Dem. 
Prithee farewell, and be not doubtful of me.  Cel. 
I would not have ye hurt: and ye are so 〈◊〉  
But good sweet Prince preserve yourself, Fight nobly,  
But do not thrust his Body; 'tis not yours now,  
'Tis mine, 'tis only mine: do not seek wounds, Sir,  
For every drop of Blood you bleed—  Dem. 
I will, Celia, I will be careful.  Cel. 
My heart that loves ye dearly.  Dem. 
Prithee no more, we must part:  
Hark, they March now.  Drum's a March. Cel. 
Fie on 〈◊〉 Bawling Drums: I am sure you'll kiss me,  
But one Kiss? What a part's this?  Dem. 
Here, take me,  
And do what thou wilt with me, smother me;  
But still remember, if your Fooling with me,  
Make me forget the trust—  Cel. 
I have done. farewell Sir,  
Never look back, you shall not stay, not a minute.  Dem. 
I must have one farewell more.  Cel. 
No, the Drums beat;  
I dare not slack your Honour; not a hand more,  
Only this Look; the gods preserve, and save ye.    

ACT II. SCENE I.  
Enter Antigonus, Carynthus, Timon. Ant. 
WHat have ye found her out?  Char. 
We hawe harkened after her.  Ant. 
What's that to my desire?  Char. 
Your grace must give us time, and a little means.  Ty. 
She is sure a stranger, if she were bred or known here—  Ant. 
Your dull endeavours Enter Menippus.  
Should never be employed. Welcome Menippus.  Men. 
I have found her Sir, I mean the place she is lodged in; her name is Celia, And much a do I had to purchase that too.  Ant. 
Dost think Demetrius loves her?  Men. 
Much I fear it,  
〈◊〉 nothing that way yet can win for certain.  
I'll tell your grace within this hour.  Ant. 
A stranger?  Men. 
Without all doubt.  Ant. 
But how should he come to her?  Men. 
There lies the 〈◊〉 of the matter hid yet.  Ant. 
〈◊〉 thou been with thy wife?  〈◊〉. 
No Sir, I am going to her.  Ant. 
Go and dispatch, and meet me in the Garden,  
And get all out ye can.  Exit. Men. 
I'll do my best Sir.  Exit. Tym. 
Blessed be thy wife, thou wert an arrant Ass else.  Char. 
ay, she is a stirring woman indeed: there's a brain, brother.  Tym. 
There's not a handsome wench of any mettle within an hundred miles, but her intelligence reaches her, and outreaches her, and brings her as confidently to Court, as to a sanctuary: What had his mouldy brains ever arrived at, had not she beaten it out o'th' Flint to fasten him? They say she keeps an office of Concealments: there is no young wench, let her be a Saint, Unless she live i'th' Centre, but she finds her, and every way prepares addresses to her: if my wife would have followed her course Charintbus, her lucky course, I had the day before him: O what might I have been by this time, Brother? But she (forsooth) when I put these things to her, these things of honest thrift, groans, O my conscience, the load upon my conscience, when to make us cuckolds, they have no more burden than a brood-goose, brother; but let's do what we can, though this wench fail us, another of a now way will be looked at: Come, let's abroad, and beat our brains, time may for all his wisdom, yet give us a day.  Exit.  

Seaene. 2.  Drum within, Alarm. Enter Demetrius and Leoentius. Dem. 
I will not see 'em fall thus, give me way, Sir,  
I shall forget you love me else.  Leo. 
Will ye lose all?  
For me to be forgotten, to be hated,  
Nay never to have been a Man, is nothing,  
So you, and those we have preserved from slaughter  
Come safely off.  Dem. 
I have lost myself.  Leo. 
You are cozened.  Dem. 
〈◊〉 am most miserable.  Leo. 
There's no Man so, but he that makes himself so.  Dem. 
I will go.  Leo. 
You must not: I shall tell you then,  
And tell you true, that Man's unfit to govern,  
That cannot guide himself: You lead an Army?  
That have not so much Manly sufferance left ye,  
To bear a Loss?  Dem. 
Charge but once more Leonitus,  
My Friends and my Companions are engaged all.  Leo. 
Nay give 'em lost, I saw 'em off their Horses,  
And the Enemy Master of their Arms; nor could then,  
The policy, nor strength of Man redeem 'em  Dem. 
And shall I know this, and stand fooling?  Leo. 
By my dead Father's Soul you stir not, Sir,  
Or if you do, you make your way through me first.  Dem. 
Thou art a Coward.  Leo. 
To prevent a Madman.  
None but your Father's Son, durst call me so,  
‛ Death if he did— Must I be scandaled by ye,  
That hedged in all the helps I had to save ye?  
That, where there was a valiant weapon stirring,  
Both searched it out, and singled it, unedged it,  
For fear it should bite you, Am I a Coward?  
Go, get ye up, and tell 'em ye are the King's Son;  
Hang all your Lady's Favours on your Crest,  
And let them fight their shares; spur to destruction,  
You cannot miss the way: be bravely desperate,  
And your young friends before ye, that lost this battle,  
Your honourable friends, that knew no order,  
Cry out, Antigonus', the old Antigonus,  
The wise and fortunate Antigonus,  
The great, the valiant, and the feared Antigonus,  
Has sent a desperate son, without discretion  
To bury in an hour his age of honour.  Dem. 
I am ashamed.  Leo. 
'Tis ten to one, I die with ye:  
The coward will not long be after ye;  
I scorn to say I saw ye fall, sigh for ye,  
And tell a whining tale, some ten years after  
To boys and girls in an old chimney corner,  
Of what a Prince we had, how bravely spirited;  
How young and fair he fell: we'll all go with ye,  
And ye shall see us all, like sacrifices  
In our best trim, 〈◊〉 up the mouth of ruin?  
Will this faith satisfy your folly? Can this show ye  
'Tis not to die we fear, but to die poorly,  
To fall, forgotten, in a Multitude?  
If you will needs tempt Fortune now she has held ye,  
Held ye from sinking up.  Dem. 
Pray do not kill me,  
These words pierce deeper than the wounds I suffer,  
The smarting wounds of loss.  Leo. 
Ye are too tender;  
Fortune has hours of loss, and hours of honour,  
And the most valiant feel them both: take comfort,  
The next is ours, I have a Soul descries it:  
The angry Bull never goes back for breath,  
But when he means to arm his fury double.  
Let this day set, but not the Memory,  
And we shall find a time: How now Lieutenant?  Enter Lieutenant. Lieu. 
I know not: I am malled: we are bravely beaten,  
All our young Gallants lost.  Leo. 
Thou art hurt.  Lieu. 
I am peppered, I was i'th' midst of all: and banged of all hands: They made an Anvil of my Head, it rings yet; never so threshed: Do you call this Fame? I have famed it; I have got Immortal fame, but I'll no more on't; I'll no such scratching Saint to serve hereafter; O' my Conscience I was killed above Twenty 〈◊〉, and yet I know not what a Devil's in't, I crawled away, and lived again still; I am hurt plaguily, but now I have nothing near so much pain Colonel, they have sliced me for that Malady.  Dem. 
All the young Men lost?  Lieu. 
I am glad you are here: but they are all i'th' pound Sir, they'll never ride o'er other men's Corn again, I take it, such frisking, and such flaunting with their Feathers, and such careering with their Mistress favours; and here must he be pricking out for honour, and there got he a knock, and down goes Pilgarlick, commends his Soul to his She Saint, and Exit. Another spurs in there, cries, Make room Villains, I am a Lord, scarce spoken, but with reverence a Rascal takes him o'er the Face, and fells him, there lies the Lord, the Lord be with him.  Leo. 
Now Sir,  
Do you find this truth?  Dem. 
I would not.  Lieu. 
Pox upon it,  
They have such tender Bodies too; such Culliss,  
That one good handsome blow breaks 'em in pieces.  Leo. 
How stands the Enemy?  Lieu. 
Even cool enough too: for to say truth, he has been shrewdly heated, the Gentleman no doubt will fall to his Jewlips.  Leo. 
He Marches not i'th'-tail on's.  Lieu. 
No, plague take him, he'll kiss our Tails as soon; he looks upon us, as if he would say, If ye will turn again, Friends, we will belabour you a little better, and beat a little more care into your Coxcombs. Now shall we have damnable Ballads out against us, most wicked Madrigals: and ten to one, Colonel, Sung to such lousy, lamentable Tunes.  Leo. 
Thou art Merry,  
How e'er the Game goes: good Sir be not troubled,  
A better day will draw this back again.  
Pray go, and cheer 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and lead 'em 〈◊〉,  
They are hot, and 〈◊〉.  〈◊〉. 
I'll do any thing.  Leo. 
〈◊〉, send one presently away To ' th' King, and let him know our state: and 〈◊〉 ye, be sure the messenger advise his Majesty to comfort up the Prince: he's full of sadness.  Lieu. 
When shall I get a Surgeon? this hot weather,  
Unless I be well peppered, I shall stink Colonel.  Leo. 
Go, I'll prepare thee one.  Lieu. 
If ye catch me then,  
Fight again, I'll eat hay with a horse.  Exit.  

Scene 3.  Leucippe (reading) and two Maids at a Table writing. Leu. 
Have ye written to Merione?  1. Ma. 
Yes, Madam.  Leu. 
And let her understand the hopes she has  
If she come speedily—  1. Ma. 
All these are specified.  Leu. 
And of the chain is sent her,  
And the rich stuff to make her show more handsome here?  1. Ma. 
All this is done, Madam.  Leu. 
What have you dispatched there?  2. Ma. 
A letter to the Country maid, an't please ye.  Leu. 
A pretty girl, but peevish, plaguy peevish:  
Have ye bought the embordyered gloves, and that purse for her,  
And the new Curl?  2. Ma. 
They are ready packed up Madam.  Leu. 
Her maidenhead will yield me, let me see now, She is not fifteen they say: for her complexion— Cloe, Cloe, Cloe, here, I have her, Cloe, the Daughter of a Country gentleman; Her age upon fifteen: now her complexion, a lovely brown; here 'tis; eyes black and rolling, The body neatly built: she strikes a Lute well, sings most enticingly: these helps considered, Her maidenhead will amount to some three hundred, or three hundred and fifty crowns; 'twill bear it handsomely. Her father's poor, some little share deducted, to buy him a hunting Nag: I, 'twill be pretty: Who takes care of the Merchant's wife.  1. Ma. 
I have wrought her.  Len. 
You know for whom she is?  1. Ma. 
Very well, Madam, though very much ado, I had to make her apprehend that happiness.  Leu. 
These kind are subtle:  
Did she not cry and blubber when ye urged her.  1. Ma. 
O most extremely, and swore she would rather perish.  Leu. 
Good signs, very good signs, symptoms of easy nature. Had she the plate?  1. Ma. 
She looked upon't, and left it, and turned again and viewed it.  Leu. 
Very well still.  1. Ma. 
At length she was content to let it lie there.  
Till I called for't, or so.  Leu. 
She will come?  1. Ma. 
Do you take me  
For such a fool, I would part without that promise?  Leu. 
The Chambers next the park.  2. Ma. 
The Window Madam, you bade me look upon.  Leu. 
Hang her, she is musty:  
She is no Man's meat; besides, she is poor and sluttish:  
Where lies old 〈◊〉 now, you are so long now—  2 Ma. 
Thisbe, Thisbe, This. Agent Thisbe, O I have her,  
She lies now in Nicopolis.  Leu. 
Dispatch a Packet, and tell her, her Superior here commands her, the next Month not to fail, but see delivered here to our use, some Twenty young and handsome, as also able Maids, for the Court service, as she will answer it: we are out of beauty, Utterly out, and rub the time away here, With such blown stuff, I am ashamed to send it. [Knock within.] Who's that? look out, to your business maid, there's nothing got by idleness: There is a Lady, Which if I can but buckle with, Altea, A, A, A, A, Altea, young, and married, and a great lover of her husband, well, not to be brought to Court: say ye so? I am sorry, the Court shall be brought to you then: how now, who is't?  1. Maid. 
An ancient Woman, with a Maid attending, a pretty Girl, but out of clothes; for a little Money, it seems she would put her to your bringing up, Madam,  Enter Woman and Phebe. Leu. 
Let her come in. Would ye ought with us, good Woman? I pray be short, we are full of Business.  Wom. 
I have a tender Girl here, and please your Honour.  Leu. 
Very well.  Wom. 
That hath a great desire to serve your Worship.  Leu. 
It may be so; I am full of Maids.  Wom. 
She is young, forsooth—  
And for her Truth; and as they say her bearing.  Leu. 
Ye say well: come ye hither, Maid, let me feel your Pulse, 'tis somewhat weak but Nature will grow stronger; let me see your Leg, she treads but low i'th' Pasterns.  Wom. 
A Cork heel, Madam.  Leu. 
We know what will do it, without your aim, good Woman: What do you pitch her at? she's but a slight Toy— cannot hold out long.  Wom. 
Even what you think is meet.  Leu. 
Give her Ten Crowns, we are full of business, she is a poor Woman, let her take a Cheese home: Enter the Wench in the Office.  Exit Woman and 1 Maid. 2. Maid. 
What's your Name, Sister?  Phe. 
Phebe, for sooth.  Leu. 
A pretty Name; 'twill do well: Go in, and let the other Maid instruct ye Phebe;  Exit Phebe. 
Let my old Velvet Skirt be made sit for her, I'll put her into action for a Waistcoat, and when I have rigged her up once, this small Pinnace shall sail for Gold, and good store too: Who's there? [Knocks within.] Lord, shall we never have any case in this World? still troubled? still molested? What would you have? I cannot furnish ye faster than I am able. [Enter Menippe. And ye were my Husband a Thousand times, I cannot do it; at least a dozen Posts are gone this Morning for several parts of the Kingdom: I can do no more but pay 'em, and instruct 'em.  〈◊〉. 
Prithee, good sweet heart, I come not to disturb thee, nor discourage thee, I know thou labourest truly: hark in thine ear.  Leu. 
Ha? What do you make so dainty on't? look there, I am an Ass, I can do nothing.  Men. 
Celia? ay, this is she; a stranger born.  Leu. 
What would you give for more now?  Men. 
Prithee, my best Leucippe, there's much hangs on't, lodged at the end of Marse's street? that's true too; at the sack of such a Town, by such a Soldier preserved a prisoner: and by Prince Demetrius bought from that man again, maintained, and favoured: How came you by this knowledge?  Leu. 
Poor weak man, I have a thousand eyes, when thou art sleeping, abroad, and full of business.  Men. 
You never tried her;  Leu. 
No, she is beyond my level; so hedged in by the Prince's infinite love, and favour to her—  Men. 
She is a handsome wench.  Leu. 
A delicate, and knows it; and out of that proof arms herself.  Men. 
Come in then; I have a great design from the King to you, and you must work like wax now.  Leu. 
On this Lady;  Men. 
On this, and all your wits call home.  Leu. 
I have done Toys in my time of some note; old as I am, I think my brains will work without barm, take up the Books.  Exit.  

Scene. 4.  Enter Antigonus, Timon, Lords, and a Soldier. Ant. 
No face of sorrow for this loss? 'twill choke him,  
Nor no man miss a friend, I know his nature  
So deep impressed with grief, for what he has suffered,  
That the least adding to it, adds to his ruin;  
His loss is not so infinite, I hope Soldier.  Soul. 
Faith neither great, nor out of discretion, the young men out of heat.  Enter Demetrius, 〈◊〉, and Lieutenant. Ant. 
I guess the manner.  〈◊〉 Men. 
The Prince an't like your Grace— s.  Ant. 
You are welcome home Sir;  
Come, no more sorrow, I have heard your fortune,  
And I myself have tried the like: clear up man,  
I will not have ye take it thus if I doubted.  
Your fear had lost; and that you had turned your back to 'em,  
Basely besought their mercies—  Leo. 
No, no, by this hand Sir,  
We fought like honest and tall men.  Ant. 
I know't Leontius; or if I thought  
Neglect of rule, having his counsel with ye,  
Or too vainglorious appetite of fame,  
Your men forgot, and scattered—  Leo. 
None of these Sir,  
He showed himself a noble gentleman,  
Every way apt to rule.  Ant. 
These being granted;  
Why should you think you have done an act so heinous,  
That nought but discontent dwells round about ye?  
I have lost a Battle.  Leo. 
ay, and fought it hard too.  Ant. 
With as much means as Man—  Leo. 
Or Devil could urge it.  Ant. 
Twenty to one of our side now.  Leo. 
Turn Tables,  
Beaten like Dogs again, like Owls, you take it  
To heart for flying but a Mile before 'em,  
And to say truth, 'twas no flight neither Sir,  
'Twas but a walk, a handsome walk,  
I have tumbled with this old Body, beaten like a Stockfish,  
And stuck with Arrows, like an arming Quiver,  
Blooded and banged, almost a day before 'em,  
And glad I have got off then. Here's a Mad Shaver,  
He sights his share I am sure, when e'er he comes to't;  
Yet I have seen him trip it tightly too,  
And cry, the Devil take the hindmost.  Lieu. 
I learned it of my betters.  Leo. 
Budge at this?  Ant. 
Has Fortune but one Face;  Lieu. 
In her best Vizard, methinks she looks but Lousily.  Ant. 
Chance, though she faint now,  
And sink below our expectations,  
Is there no hope left strong enough to buoy her?  Dem. 
'Tis not this day, I sled before the Enemy,  
And lost my People, left mine honour murdered,  
My Maiden honour, never to be ransomed,  
(Which to a noble Soul is too too sensible)  
Afflicts me with this sadness; most of these,  
Time may turn strait again, experience perfect,  
And new Swords, cut new ways to nobler Fortunes.  
O have lost—  Ant. 
As you are mine forget it:  
I do not think it loss.  Demet. 
O Sir, forgive me,  
I have lost my Friends, those worthy Souls bred with me,  
I have lost myself, they were the pieces of me;  
I have lost all Arts, my Schools are taken from me,  
Honour and Arms, no emulation left me:  
I lived to see these Men lost, looked upon it:  
These Men that twined their loves to mine, their 〈◊〉,  
O shame of shames, I saw, and could not save 'em,  
This carries Sulphur in't, this burns and boil me,  
And like a fatal Tomb bestrides my Memory.  Antig. 
This was hard fortune, but if alive and taken,  
They shall be ransomed; let it be at Millions.  Dem. 
They are dead, they are dead.  Lieu. 
When would he weep for me thus? I may be dead, and Powdered.  Leo. 
Good Prince, grieve not: we are not certain of their Deaths: the Enemy, though he be hot and keen, yet holds good Quarter. What Noise is this?  Great Shout within, Enter gentlemans. Lieu. 
He does not follow us?  
Give me a Steeple top.  Leo. 
They live, they live, Sir.  Ant. 
Hold up your Manly Face;  
They live, they're here Son.  Dem. 
These are the Men.  1 Gent. 
They are, and live to honour ye.  Dem. 
How 'scaped ye, noble Friends? methought I saw ye  
Even in the jaws of Death.  2 Gent. 
Thanks to our folly,  
That spurred us on; we were indeed hedged round in't,  
And even beyond the hand of succour beaten,  
Unhorsed, disarmed: and what we looked for then Sir,  
Let such poor weary Souls that hear the Bell Toll,  
And see the Grave a digging, tell.  Dem. 
For Heaven sake  
Delude mine eyes no longer: How came ye off?  1 Gent. 
Against all expectation: the brave 〈◊〉,  
I think this day enamoured on your Virtue,  
When, through the Troops, he saw you shoot like Lightning;  
And at your Manly Courage all took sire,  
And after that, the Misery we fell too,  
The never-certain fate of War considering,  
As we stood all before him, Fortune's ruins,  
Nothing but Death expecting, a short time  
He made a stand upon our Youths and Fortunes,  
Then with an eye of Mercy informed his judgement,  
How yet unripe we were, unblown, unhardened,  
Unsitted for such fatal ends; he cried out to us,  
Go, Gentlemen, commend me to your Master,  
To the most high, and Powerful Prince 〈◊〉,  
Tell him, the 〈◊〉 he showed against me  
This day, the Virgin-valour, and true sire  
Deserves, even from an Enemy, this Courtesy;  
Your Lives and Arms freely I'll give 'em: than him,  
And thus we are returned, Sir.  Leo. 
Faith 'twas well done;  
'Twas bravely done; Was't not a noble part, Sir?  Lieu. 
Had I been there, up had I gone, I am sure on't;  
These noble tricks, I never durst trust 'em yet.  Leo. 
Let me not live, and were't not a famed honesty,  
It takes me such a tickling way: now would I wish Heaven,  
But e'en the happiness, e'en that poor Blessing,  
For all the sharp 〈◊〉 thou hast sent me,  
But e'en i'th' head o'th' Field to take Seleucus.  
I should do somewhat memorable: 〈◊〉, sad still.  1 Gent, 
Do you grieve we are come off?  Dem. 
Unransomed was it?  2 Gent. 
It was Sir.  Dem. 
And with such a fame to me?  
Said ye not so?  Leo. 
Ye have heard it.  Dem. 
O Leonitus,  
Better I had lost 'em all: myself had perished  
And all my Father's hopes.  Leo. 
Mercy upon ye,  
What ail ye, Sir? ' Death, do not make sools 〈◊〉,  
Neither go to Chuech, nor tarry at home,  
That's a 〈◊〉 Hornpipe?  Ant. 
What's now your Grief, Demetrius?  Dem. 
Did he not beat us twice?  Leo. 
He beat a Pudding;  
Beat us but once.  Dem. 
‛ Has beat me twice, and beat me to a Coward,  
Beat me to nothing.  Lieu. 
Is not the Devil in him?  Leo. 
I pray it be not worse.  Dem. 
Twice conquered me.  Leo. 
Bear Witness all the World, I am a 〈◊〉 here.  Dem. 
With valour 〈◊〉 he struck me, then with honour:  
That stroke Leontius, that stroke, dost thou not feel it?  Leo. 
Where abouts was it? for I remember nothing yet.  Dem. 
All these Gentlemen that were his Prisoners—  Leo. 
He set 'em free, Sir, with Arms and Honour.  Dem. 
There, there, now thou hast it  
At mine own Weapon, Courtesy, h'as beaten me,  
At that I was held a Master in, he has cowed me,  
Hotter than all the dint o'th' sight he has charged me:  
Am I not now a wretched Fellow? think on't;  
And when thou hast examined all ways honourable,  
And findest no door left open to requite this,  
Conclude I am a Wretch, and was twice beaten.  Ant. 
I have observed your way, and understand if,  
And equal love it as 〈◊〉,  
My noble Child, thou shalt not fall in Virtue,  
I and my Power will sink first: you Leontius,  
Wait for a new Commission, ye shall out again,  
And instantly: you shall not lodge this night here,  
Not see a friend, nor take a blessing with ye,  
Before ye be i'th' field: the enemy is up still,  
And still in full design: Charge him again, Son,  
And either bring home that again thou hast lost there,  
Or leave thy body by him.  Dem. 
Ye raise me,  
And now I dare look up again, Leontius.  Leo. 
ay, I, Sir, I am thinking who we shall take of 'em,  
To make all strait; and who we shall give to th' devil.  
What sayest thou now Lieutenant?  Lieu. 
I say nothing.  
Lord what ail I, that I have no mind to sight now?  
I find my constitution mightily altered  
Since I came home: I hate all noises too,  
Especially the noise of Drums; I am now as well  
As any living man; why not as valiant?  
To fight now, is a kind of vomit to me,  
It goes against my stomach.  Dem. 
Good Sir, presently;  
You cannot do your Son, so fair a favour.  Ant. 
'Tis my intent: I'll see ye march away too;  
Come, get your men together presently, Leontius,  
And press where please you, as you march.  Leo. 
We go Sir.  Ant. 
Wait you on me, I'll bring ye to your command,  
And then to fortune give you up.  Dem. 
Ye love me.  Exit. Leo. 
Go, get the drums, beat round, Lieutenant.  Lieu. 
Hark ye Sir,  
I have a foolish business they call marriage.  Leo. 
After the wars are done.  Lieu. 
The party stays Sir,  
I have given the Priest his money too: all my friends Sir,  
My father and my mother.  Leo. 
Will you go forward?  Lieu. 
She brings a pretty matter with her.  Leo. 
Half a dozen Bastards.  Lieu. 
Some sorry Sir.  Leo. 
A goodly 〈◊〉.  Lieu. 
I mean Sir, pounds a year; I'll dispatch the matter,  
'Tis but a night 〈◊〉 two; I'll overtake ye Sir.  Leo. 
The 2 old legions, yes: where lies the horse-quarter?  Lieu. 
And if it be a boy, I'll even make bold Sir.  Leo. 
Away with your Whore,  
A plague o' your Whore, you damned rogue,  
Now ye are cured and well; must ye be clicketing?  Lieu. 
I have broke my mind to my Ancient, in my absence,  
He's a sufficient gentleman.  Leo. 
Get forward.  Lieu. 
Only receive her portion.  Leo. 
Get ye forward;  
Else I'll bang ye forward.  Lieu. 
Strange Sir,  
A Gentleman and an officer cannot have the liberty  
To do the office of a man.  Leo. 
Shame light on thee,  
How came this Whore into thy head?  Lieu. 
This Whore Sir?  
'Tis strange, a poor whore.  Leo. 
Do not answer me:  
Troop, Troop away: do not name this whore again,  
Or think there is a whore.  Lieu. 
That's very hard Sir.  Leo. 
For if thou dost, look too't, I'll have thee gelded,  
I'll walk ye out before me: not a word more.  Exit.  

Scene. 5.  Enter Leucippe, and Governess. Leu. 
Ye are the Mistress of the house ye say,  
Where this young Lady lies.  Gou. 
For want of a better.  Leu. 
You may be good enough for such a purpose:  
When was the Prince with her? answer me directly.  Gou. 
Not since he went a warring.  Leu. 
Very well then:  
What 〈◊〉 copulation are you privy too  
Between these two? be not afraid, we are women,  
And may talk thus amongst ourselves, no harm in't.  Gou. 
No sure, there's no harm in't, I conceive that;  
But truly, that I ever knew the gentlewoman  
Otherwise given, than a hopeful gentlewoman—  Leu. 
You'll grant me the Prince loves her?  Gou. 
There I am with ye.  
And the Gods bless her, promises her mightily.  Leu. 
Stay there a while. And gives her gifts?  Gou. 
Extremely;  
And truly makes a very Saint of her.  Leu. 
I should think now,  
(Good woman let me have your judgement with me,  
I see 'tis none of the worst: Come sit down by me)  
That these two cannot love so tenderly—  Gou. 
Being 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as they are too—  Leu. 
You say well—  
But that methinks some further promises—  Gou. 
Yes, yes,  
I have heard the Prince swear he would marry her.  Leu. 
Very well still: they do not use to fall out?  Gou. 
The tenderest Chickens to one another,  
They cannot live an hour asunder.  Leu. 
I have done then;  
And be you gone; you know your charge, and do it.  
You know whose will it is; if you transgress it—  
That is, if any have access, or see her,  
Before the Kings will be fulfilled—  Gou. 
Not the Prince, Madam?  Leu. 
You'll be hanged if you do it, that I'll assure ye.  Gou. 
But ne'er the less, I'll make bold to obey ye.  Leu. 
Away, and to your business then.  Gou. 
'Tis done, Madam.  exeunt   

ACT III. SCENE I.  
Enter Antigonus and Menippus. Ant. 
THou hast taken wondrous pains; but yet 〈◊〉,  
You understood not of what blood, and 〈◊〉.  Men. 
I laboured that, but cannot come to know it.  
A Greek I am sure she is, she speaks this Language.  Ant. 
Is she so excellent handsome?  Men. 
Most enticing.  Ant. 
Sold for a prisoner?  Men. 
Yes Sir,  
Some poor creature.  Ant. 
And he loves tenderly?  Men. 
They say extremely.  Ant. 
'Tis well prevented then yes, I perceiyed it:  
When he took leave now, he made a hundred stops,  
Desired an hour, but half an hour, a minute,  
Which I with anger crossed; I knew his business,  
I knew 'twas she he hunted on; this journey, man,  
I beat out suddenly for her cause intended,  
And would not give him time to breath. When comes she?  Men. 
This morning Sir.  Ant. 
Lodge her to all delight then: For I would have her tried toth'test: I know she must be some cracked Coin, not sit his Traffic; which, when we have found, the shame will make him leave her, or we shall work a nearer way, I'll bury him, and with him all the hopes I have cast upon him, ere he shall dig his own Grave in that Woman: you know which way to bring her: I'll stand close there, to view her as she passes: And do you hear Menippus, observe her with all sweetness: humour her, 'twill make her lie more careless to our purposes. Away, and take what helps you please.  Men. 
I am gone Sir.  Exeunt.  

Seaene 2.  Enter Celia, and Governess. Cel. 
Governess, From whom was this Gown sent me; Prithee be serious true; I will not wear't else: 'Tis a handsome one.  Gou. 
As though you know not?  Cel. 
No Faith: But I believe for certain too, yet I wonder, because it was his caution, this poor way, still to preserve me from the curious search of greedy eyes.  Gou. 
You have it: Does it please you?  Cel. 
'Tis very rich methinks too, prithee tell me—  Gou. 
From one that likes you well, never look coy, Lady;  
These are no gifts, to be put off with pout.  Cel. 
Pout, and Gifts? Is it from any stranger?  Gou. 
You are so curious, that there is no talking to ye. What if it be I pray ye?  Cel. 
Unpin good Governess, Quick, quick.  Gou. 
Why what's the matter?  Cel. 
Quick, good Governess: Fie on't, How beastly it becomes me? poorly? A trick put upon me? well said Governess: I vow I would not wear it— out, it smells musty. Are these your tricks? now I begin to smell it abominable musty; Will ye help me? The Prince will come again—  Gou. 
You are not Mad sure?  Cel. 
As I live Ill ' cut it off: a Pox upon it; for sure it was made for that use; Do you bring me Liveries? Stales to catch Kites? Dost thou Laugh too, thou base Woman?  Gou. 
I cannot choose, if I should be hanged.  Cel. 
Abuse me, and then Laugh at me too?  Gou. 
I do not abuse ye: Is it abuse to give him Drink that's Thirsty?  
You want Clothes; Is it such a heinous sin I beseech ye, to see you stored?  Cel. 
There is no greater wickedness than this way.  Gou. 
What way?  Cel. 
I shall Curse thee fearfully, if thou provokest me further: and take heed, Woman; my 〈◊〉 never miss.  Gou. 
Curse him that sent it.  Cel. 
Tell but his Name—  Gou. 
You dare not Curse him,  Cel. 
Dare not I? By this fair light—  Gou. 
You are so full of Passion—  Cel. 
Dare not be good? Be honest? Dare not Curse him?  Gou. 
I think you dare not: I believe so.  Cel. 
Speak him.  Gou. 
Up with your Valour then, up with it bravely, and take your full charge.  Cel. 
If I do not, hang me; tell but his Name.  Gou. 
'T was Prince Demetrius sent it:  
Now, now, give sire, kill him i'th' eye now Lady.  Cel. 
Is he come home?  Gou. 
It seems so; but your Curse now.  Cel. 
You do not lie, I hope.  Gou. 
You dare not Curse him.  Cel. 
Prithee do not abuse me: Is he come home indeed?  
For I would now with all my heart believe thee.  Gou. 
Nay, you may choose: alas, I deal for Strangers, that send ye scurvy  
Musty Gowns, stale Liveries: I have my Tricks.  Cel. 
'Tis a good Gown, a handsome one; I did but jest; Where is he?  Gou. 
He that sent it—  Cel. 
How? he that sent it? Is't come to that again? thou canst not be so foolish prithee speak out, I may mistake thee.  Gou. 
I said he that sent it.  Cel. 
Curse o' my life: Why dost thou vex me thus? I know thou meanest Demetrius, dost thou not? I charge thee speak truth: if it be any other, thou know'st the charge he gave thee, and the justice his anger will inflict, if e'er he know this, as know he shall, he shall, thou spiteful Woman, thou beastly Woman; and thou shalt know to late too, and feel too sensible, I am no Ward, no Sale-stuff for your Money-Merchants that sent it? Who dare send me, or how durst thou, thou—  Gou. 
What you please: for this is ever the reward of service. The Prince will bring the next himself.  Cel. 
'Tis strange that you should deal so peevishly: beshrew ye, you have put me in a heat.  Gou. 
I am sure ye have killed me: I ne'er received such language: I can but wait upon ye, and be your drudge; keep a poor life to serve ye.  Cel. 
You know my nature is too easy, Governess,  
And you know now, I am sorry too: how does he?  Gou. 
O God, my head.  Cel. 
Prithee be well, and tell me, did he speak of me, since he came? nay, see now, if thou wilt leave this tyranny? good sweet governess: did he but name his Celia? look upon me, upon my faith I meant no harm: here, take this, and buy thyself some trifles: did a good Girl?  Gou. 
He loves ye but too dearly.  Cel. 
That's my good Governess.  Gou. 
There's more clothes making for ye.  Cel. 
More clothes?  Gou. 
More: richer and braver; I can tell ye that news; And twenty glorious things.  Cel. 
To what use?  Gou. 
Ye are too good for our house now: we poor wretches Shall lose the comfort of ye.  Cel. 
No, I hope not.  Gou. 
For ever lose ye Lady.  Cel. 
Lose me? wherefore? I hear of no such thing.  Gou. 
'Tis sure it must be so: you must shine now at Court: such preparation, such hurry, and such hanging rooms—  Cel. 
Toth' Court wench? Was it toth' Court thou saidst?  Gou. 
You'll find it so.  Cel. 
Stay, stay, this cannot be.  Gou. 
I say it must be: I hope to find ye still the same good Lady.  Cel. 
Toth' Court? this stumbles me: art sure for me, wench, this preparation is?  Gou. 
She is perilous crafty: I fear too honest for us all too. Am I sure I live?  Cel. 
Toth' Court? this cannot down: what should I do there? why should he on a sudden change his mind thus, and not make me acquainted? sure he loves me; his vow was made against it, and mine with him: At least while this King lived: he will come hither, and see me ere I go?  Gou. 
Would some wise woman had her in working: that I think he will not, because he means with all joy there to meet ye. Ye shall hear more within this hour?  Cel. 
A Courtier? what may the meaning be? sure he will see me if he be come, he must: Hark ye Governess, what age is the King of?  Gou. 
He's an old man, and full of business.  Cel. 
I fear too full indeed: what Ladies are there?  
I would be loath to want good company.  Gou. 
Delicate young Ladies, as you would desire;  
And when you are acquainted, the best company.  Cel. 
'Tis very well: prithee go in, let's talk more.  
For though I fear a trick, I'll bravely try it.  [Aside.] Gou. 
I see he must be cunning, knocks this 〈◊〉 down  Exeunt.  

Scene 3.  Enter Lieutenant, and Leontius. Drum's within. Leo. 
You shall not have your will, sirrah, are ye running?  
Have ye gotten a toy in your heels? Is this a season,  
When honour pricks ye on, to prick your 〈◊〉 up  
After your Whore, your Hobby-Horse?  Lieu. 
Why look ye now: What a strange Man are you? Would you have a Man fight at all hours all alike.  Leo. 
Do but fight something; but half a blow, and put thy Stomach to't: turn but thy face, and do but make Mouths at 'em.  Lieu. 
And have my Teeth knocked out; I thank ye heartily, ye are my dear Friend.  Leo. 
What a Devil ails thee? Dost long to be hanged?  Lieu. 
Faith, Sir, I make no suit for't: but rather than I would live thus out of Charity, continually in brawling—  Leo. 
Art thou not he? I may be cozened—  Lieu. 
I shall be discovered.  Leo. 
That in the midst of thy most hellish pains, when thou wert crawling sick, didst aim at wonders, when thou wert mad with pain?  Lieu 
Ye have found the cause out; I had ne'er been mad to sight else: I confess, Sir, the daily torture of my side that vexed me, made me as daily careless what became of me, till a kind Sword there wounded me, and eased me; 'twas nothing in my valour fought; I am well now, and take some pleasure in my life: methinks now it shows as mad a thing to me to see you 〈◊〉, and kill one another foolishly for Honour, as 'twas to you, to see me play the Coxcomb.  Leo. 
And wilt thou ne'er fight more?  Lieu. 
Ith' mind I am in.  Leo. 
Nor never be sick again?  Lieu. 
I hope I shall not.  Leo. 
Prithee be sick again; prithee, I beseech thee,  
Be just so sick again.  Lieu. 
I'll just be hanged first.  Leo. 
If all the Arts that are can make a Colic, therefore look to't: or if imposthumes, mark me, as big as footballs—  Lieu. 
Deliver me.  Leo. 
Or stones of ten pound weight i'th' kidneys through 〈◊〉 and ugly diets may be gathered; I'll feed ye up myself Sir, I'll prepare ye, you cannot sighed, unless the devil tear ye, you shall not want provocations, I'll 〈◊〉 ye, I'll have thee have the toothache, and the headache.  Lieu. 
Good Colonel, I'll do any thing.  Leo. 
No, no, nothing— then will I have thee blown with a pair of Smith's bellows, because ye shall be sure to have a round gale with ye, siled full of oil, o' devil, and 〈◊〉 fortis, and let these work, these may provok.  Lieu. 
Good Colonel.  Leo. 
A coward in full blood; 〈◊〉 be plain with me,  
Will Roasting do thee any good?  Lieu. 
Nor Basting neither, Sir.  Leo. 
Marry that goes hard.  Enter I Gent. I Gent. 
Where are you Colonel  
The Prince expects ye Sir; has hedged the Enemy within a strait, where all the hopes and valours of all Men living cannot force a passage, he has 'em now.  Leo. 
I knew all this before Sir,  
I chalked him out his way: But do you see that thing there;  Lieu. 
Nay, good sweet Colonel 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a little.  Leo. 
That thing?  1 Gent. 
What thing? I see the brave Lieutenant.  Leo. 
Rogue, What a Name hast thou lost?  Lieu. 
You may help it; yet you may help it: I'll do ye any Courtesy: I know you love a Wench well.  〈◊〉 2 Gent. Leo. 
Look upon him; Do you look too.  2 Gent. 
What should I look on?  
I come to tell ye, the Prince stays your Direction,  
We have 'em now i'th' Coop, Sir.  Leo. 
Let 'em rest there,  
And chew upon their Miseries: but look first—  Lieu. 
I cannot sighed for all this.  Leo. 
Look on this Fellow.  2 Gent. 
I know him; 'tis the valiant brave Lieutenant.  Leo. 
Canst thou hear this, and play the Rogue, steal off quickly,  
Behind me quickly, neatly do it,  
And rush into the thickest of the Enemy,  
And if thou killest but two.  Lieu. 
You may excuse me, 'tis not my fault: I dare not sight.  Leo. 
Be ruled yet,  
I'll beat thee on; go wink and sight: A plague upon your sheep's heart.  2. Gent. 
What's all this matter?  1. Gent. 
Nay I cannot show ye.  Leo. 
Here's Twenty pound, go but smell to 'em.  Lieu. 
Alas Sir, I have taken such a cold, I can smell nothing.  Leo. 
I can smell a Rascal, a rank Rascal:  
Fie, how he stinks, stinks like a tired Jade.  2 Gent. 
What Sir?  Leo. 
Why, that Sir, Do not you smell him?  2 Gent. 
Smell him?  Lieu. 
I must endure.  Leo. 
Stinks like a dead Dog, Carrion— There's no such damnable smell under Heaven, as the faint sweat of a Coward: Will ye sight yet?  Lieu. 
Nay, now I defy ye; ye have spoke the 〈◊〉 ye can of me, and if 〈◊〉 Man should take what you say to the heart—  Leo. 
God a mercy, God a mercy with all my heart; here I forgive thee; and fight, or fight not, do but go along with us, and keep my Dog.  〈◊〉 
I love a good Dog naturally.  〈◊〉 Gent. 
What's all this stir, Lieutenant?  Lieu. 
Nothing, Sir, but a slight matter of Argument.  Leo. 
‛ Pox take thee. Sure I shall love this Rogue, he's so pretty a Coward: Come, gentlemans, let's up now, and if fortune dare play the Slut again, I'll never more Saint her; Come, Playfellow, come, prithee come up; come Chicken, I have a way shall sit yet: A tame knave— Come, look upon us.  Lieu. 
I'll tell ye who does best Boys.  [Exeunt.  

Scene 4.  Enter Antigonus, and Menippus above. Men. 
I saw her coming out.  Ant. 
Who waits 〈◊〉 her?  Men. 
Timon, Charinthus, and some other Gentlemen  
By me appointed.  Ant. 
Where's your Wife;  Men. 
she's ready to entertain her here Sir; and some Ladies fit for her Lodgings.  Ant. 
How shows she in her trim now?  Men. 
Oh most divinely sweet.  Ant. 
Prithee speak softly, How does she take her coming?  Men. 
She bears it bravely; but what she thinks— For Heaven's sake  
Sir preserve me— If the Prince chance to sinned this.  Ant. 
Peace ye Old Fool; She thinks to meet him here.  Men. 
That's all the Project.  Ant. 
Was she hard to bring;  〈◊〉. 
No, she believed it quickly, and quickly made herself sit, the Gown a little, and those new things she has not been acquainted with, at least in this place, where she lived a Prisoner, troubled and stirred her Mind: But believe me, Sir, she has worn as good, they sit so apted to her; and she is so great a Mistress of disposure: Here they come now: but take a full view of 〈◊〉.  Enter Celia, Timon, Charinthus, and Gent. Ant. 
How cheerfully she looks? How she 〈◊〉 all?  
And how she views the place? she is very young sure:  
That was an admirable Smile, a catching one,  
The very twang of Cupid's Bow Sung to it:  
She has two-edged eyes, they kill o'both sides.  Men. 
She makes a stand, as though she would speak.  Ant. 
Be still then.  Cel. 
Good Gentlemen, trouble yourselves no further,  
I had thought sure to have met a noble Friend here.  Tym. 
Ye may meet many Lady.  Cel. 
Such as you are I covet few or none, Sir.  Char. 
Will you walk this way,  
And take the sweets o'th' Garden? cool and close, Lady.  Cel. 
Methinks this open Air's far better, tend ye that way.  
Pray where's the Woman came along?  Char. 
What Woman?  Cel. 
The Woman of the House I lay at.  Tym. 
Woman; Here was none came along sure.  Cel. 
Sure I am 〈◊〉 then: Pray where's the Prince?  Char. 
He will not be long from ye, we are his humble servants.  Cel. 
I could Laugh now, to see how finely I am cozened: yet I fear not, for sure I know a way to scape all dangers.  Tym. 
Madam, your Lodgings lie this way.  Cel. 
My Lodgings? for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Sir, what office do I bear here?  Tym. 
The great commander of 〈◊〉 hearts.  Cel. 
You have hit it. I thank your sweetheart for it. Who are these now?  Enter I 〈◊〉 and Ladies. Char. 
Ladies that come to serve ye.  Cel. 
Well considered, are you my servants?  Lady. 
Servants to your pleasures.  Cel. 
I dare believe ye, but I dare not trust ye: catched with a trick? well, I must bear it patiently: methinks this Court's a neat place: all the people of such resined a size—  Tym. 
This is no poor rogue.  Leu. 
Were it a Paradise to please your fancy,  
And entertain the sweetness you bring with ye;  Cel. 
Take breath; you are fat and many words may melt ye, this is three Bawds beaten into one; bless me heaven, what shall become of me? I am 〈◊〉 pitfal: o' my conscience, this is the old viper, and all these little ones creep every night into her belly; do you hear plump servant, and my little sucking Ladies, you must teach me, for I know you are excellent at carriage, how to behave myself, for I am rude yet, but you say the Prince will come?  Lady. 
Will fly to see you.  Cel. 
For look you if a great man, say the King now should come and visit me?  Men. 
She names ye.  Ant. 
Peace fool.  Cel. 
And offer me a kindness, such a kindness.  Leu. 
ay, such a kindness.  Cel. 
True Lady such a kindness, what shall that kindness be now?  Leu. 
A witty Lady, learn little ones, learn.  Cel. 
Say it be all his favour.  Leu. 
And a sweet saying 'tis  Cel. 
And I grow peevish?  Leu. 
You must not be neglectful.  Cel. 
There's the matter, there's the main doctrine now, and I may miss it; Or a kind handsome Gentleman?  Leu. 
You say well.  Cel. 
They'll count us basely bred.  Leu. 
Not freely nurtured.  Cel. 
I'll take thy counsel.  Leu. 
'Tis an excellent woman.  Cel. 
I find a notable volume here, a learned one; which way? for I would fain be in my chamber; in truth sweet Ladies, I grow weary; sie, how hot the air beats on me?  Lady. 
This way Madam?  Cel. 
Now by mine honour, I grow wondrons faint too.  Leu. 
Your fans sweet Gentlewomen, your fans.  Cel. 
Since I am fooled, [〈◊〉.]  
I'll make myself some sport, though I pay dear for't,  Exit. Men. 
You see now what a manner of woman she is Sir.  Ant. 
Thou art an ass.  Men. 
Is this a fit love for the Prince?  Ant. 
A coxcomb:  
Now by my crown a dainty wench, a sharp wench,  
And a matchless spirit: how she Jeered 'em?  
How carelessly she scoffed 'em? use her nobly;  
I would I had not seen her: wait anon,  
And then you shall have more to trade upon.  Exeunt.  

Scene 5.  Enter Leontius, and the 2 Gentlemen. Leo. 
We must keep a round, and a strong watch to night, the Prince will not charge the Enemy till the morning: but for the trick I told ye for this rascal, this rogue, that health and strong heart makes a coward.  1 Gent. 
ay, if it take.  Leo. 
ne'er fear it, the Prince has it, and if he let it fall, I must not know it; he will suspect me presently: but you two may help the plough.  2 Gent. 
That he is sick again—  Leo. 
Extremely sick: his disease grown incurable.  
Never yet found, nor touched at.  Enter Lieutenant. 2 Gent. 
Well, we have it  
And here he comes.  Leo. 
The Prince has been upon him, what a flatten face he has now? It takes believe it; how like an ass he looks?  〈◊〉. 
I feel no great pain, at least, I think I do not; yet I feel sensibly I grow extremely faint: how cold I sweat now?  Leo. 
So, so, so.  Lieu. 
And now 'tis even too true, I feel a pricking, a pricking, a strange pricking: how it tingles? and as it were a slitch too: the Prince told me, and every one cried out I was a dead man; I had thought I had been as well—  Leo. 
Upon him now Boys, and do it most demurely.  1 Gent. 
How now Lieutenant?  Lieu. 
I thank ye Gentlemen.  1 Gent. 
‛ Life, how looks this Man?  
How dost thou good Lieutenant?  2 Gent. 
I ever told ye, This Man was never Cured, I see it too plain now; How do you feel yourself? you look not perfect: How dull his eyes hangs?  1 Gent. 
That may be discontent.  2 Gent. 
Believe me Friend, I would not suffer now the tithe of those pains this Man feels; mark his Forehead; What a cloud of cold dew hangs upon't?  Lieu. 
I have it, again I have it; How it grows upon me? a miserable Man I am.  Leo. 
Ha, ha, ha, A miserable Man thou shalt be; this is the tamest Trout I ever tickled.  [Aside. Enter 2 Physicians. 1 Phi. 
This way he went.  2 Phi. 
Pray heaven we find him living,  
He's a brave Fellow, 'tis pity he should perish thus.  1 Phi. 
A strong hearted man, and of a notable sufferance.  Lieu. 
Oh, oh.  1 Gent. 
How now? how is it man?  Lieu. 
Oh Gentlemen,  
Never so full of pain.  2 Gent. 
Did I not tell ye?  Lieu. 
Never so full of pain Gentlemen.  1 Phi. 
He is here;  
How do you Sir?  2 Phi. 
Be of good comfort Soldier,  
The Prince has sent us to you.  Lieu. 
Do you think I may live?  2 Phi. 
He altars hourly, strangely.  1 Phi. 
Yes you 〈◊〉 live: but—  Leo. 
Finely butted Doctor.  1 Gent. 
Do not discourage him.  1 Phi. 
He must be told truth,  
'Tis now too late to trifle.  Enter Dem. and Gent. 2 Gent. 
Here the Prince comes.  Dem. 
How now Gentlemen?  2 Gent. 
Bewailing Sir a Soldier,  
And one I think, your Grace will grieve to part with,  
But every living thing—  Dem. 
'Tis true, must perish,  
Our lives are but our Marches to our Graves,  
How dost thou now Lieutenant?  Lieu. 
Faith 'tis true Sir, we are but spans, and candles ends.  Leo. 
He's finely mortified.  Dem. 
Thou art heart whole yet; I see he altars strangely, and that apace too; I saw it this morning in him, when he poor Man I dare swear—  Lieu. 
No believe't, Sir, I never felt it.  Dem. 
Here lies the pain now: How he is swelled?  1 Phi. 
The Imposthume, fed with a new malignant Humour now, will grow to such a bigness, 'tis incredible, the compass of a Bushel will not hold it, and with such a Hell of torture it will rise too—  Dem. 
Can you endure me touch it?  Lieu. 
Oh, I beseech you Sir:  
I feel you sensibly ere you come near me.  Dem. 
He is finely wrought, he must be cut, no cure else,  
And suddenly, you see how fast he blows out.  Lieu. 
Good Master Doctor, let me be beholding to you, I feel I cannot last.  2 Phi. 
For what Lieutenant?  Lieu. 
But even for half a dozen Cans of good Wine,  
That I may drink my Will out: I faint hideously.  Dem. 
Fetch him some Wine; and since he must go Gentlemen.  
Why let him take his journey Merrily.  Enter Servant with Wine. Lieu. 
That's even the nearest way.  Leo. 
I could Laugh dead now.  Dem. 
Here, off with that.  Lieu. 
These two I give your Grace, a poor remembrance of a dying Man  
Sir, and I beseech you wear 'em out,  Dem. 
I will Soldier, these are fine Legacies.  Lieu. 
Among the Gentlemen, even all I have left; I am a poor Man, naked, yet something for remembrance: four a piece, Gentlemen, and so my Body where you please.  Leo. 
It will work.  Lieu. 
I make your Grace my Executor, and I beseech ye  
See my poor Will fulfilled: sure I shall walk else.  Dem. 
As full as they can be filled, here's my hand, Soldier.  1 Gent. 
The Wine will tickle him.  Lieu. 
I would hear a Drum beat, but to see how I could endure it.  Dem. 
Beat a Drum there.  [Drum within. Lieu. 
O Heavenly Music, I would hear one Sing to't,  
I am very full of pain.  Dem. 
Sing? 'tis impossible.  Lieu. 
Why, then I would drink a Drum full. Where lies the Enemy?  2 Gent. 
Why, here close by.  Leo. 
Now he begins to 〈◊〉.  Lieu. 
And dare ye sight?  
Dare ye fight Gentlemen?  1 Phi. 
You must not cut him: he's gone then in a moment; all the hope left, is to work his weakness into sudden anger, and make him raise his passion above his pain, and so dispose him on the Enemy; his body then, being stirred with violence, will purge itself, and break the sore.  Dem. 
'Tis true, Sir,  1 Phi. 
And then my Life for his.  Lieu. 
I will not die thus.  Dem. 
But he is too weak to do—  Lieu. 
Die like a Dog?  2 Phi. 
ay, he's weak, but yet he's heart-whole.  Lieu. 
Hem.  Dem. 
An excellent sign.  Lieu. 
Hem.  Dem. 
Stronger still, and better.  Lieu. 
Him, him; run, tan, tan, tan.  Exit. 1 Phi. 
How he's i'th' way on't.  Dem. 
Well go thy ways, thou wilt do something certain.  Leo. 
And some brave thing, or let mine Ears be cut off. He's sinely wrought.  Dem. 
Let's after him.  Leo. 
I pray Sir; But how Rogue, when this Cloud's melted in him, and all discovered—  Dem. 
That's for an after Mirth, away, away, away.  Exit.  

Scene 6.  Enter Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Soldiers. Sel. 
Let no man fear to die: we love to sleep all,  
And death is but the sounder sleep; all ages,  
And all hours call us; 'tis so common, easy,  
That little children tread those paths before us;  
We are not sick, nor our souls pressed with sorrows,  
Nor go we out like tedious tales, forgotten;  
High high we come, and hearty to our funerals,  
And as the Sun that sets, in blood let's fall.  Lis. 
'Tis true, they have us fast, we cannot scape 'em,  
Nor keeps the brow of fortune one smile for us,  
Dishonourable ends we can scape though,  
And (worse than those captivities) we can die,  
And dying nobly, though we leave behind us  
These clods of flesh, that are too massy burdens,  
Our living souls fly crowned with living conquests  Ptol. 
They have begun, fight bravely, and fall bravely;  
And may that man that seeks to save his life now  
By price, or promise, or by fear falls from us,  
Never again be blessed with name of Soldier.  Enter a Soldier. Sel. 
How now? who charged first? I seek a brave hand to set me off in death.  Soul. 
We are not charged Sir, the Prince lies still.  Sel. 
How comes this Alarm up then?  Soul. 
There is one desperate fellow, with the devil in him  
(He never durst do this else) has broke into us,  
And here he bangs ye two or three before him,  
There five or six; ventures upon whole companies.  Ptol. 
And is not seconded?  Soul. 
Not a man follows.  Sel. 
Nor cut a pieces?  Soul. 
Their wonder yet has stayed 'em.  Sel. 
Let's in, and see this miracle?  Ptol. 
I admire it.  Exit. Enter Leontius and Gentlemen. Leon. 
Fetch him off, fetch him off, I am sure he's clouted;  
Did I not tell you how 'twould take?  1 Gent. 
'Tis admirable.  Enter Lieutenant with colours in his hand, pursuing 3 or 4 Soldiers. Lieu. 
Follow that blow, my friend, there's at your coxcombs,  
I fight to save me from the Surgeon's miseries.  Leo. 
How the knave curries 'em  Lieu. 
You cannot rogues,  
Till you have my diseases, fly my fury,  
Ye bread and butter rogues, do ye run from me?  
And my side would give me leave, I would so hunt ye,  
Ye porredge-gutted slaves, ye veal-broth boobies.  Enter Demetrius, and Physicians, and Gent. Leo. 
Enough, enough Lieutenant, thou hast done bravely.  Dem. 
Mirror of man.  Lieu. 
There's a flag for ye Sir,  
I took it out o'th' shop, and never paid for't,  
I'll to 'em again, I am not come to th' text yet.  Dem. 
No more my soldier: beshrew my heart he is hurt sore.  Leo. 
Hang him, he'll lick all those whole.  2 Phi. 
Now will we take him,  
And cure him in a trice.  Dem. 
Be careful of him.  Lieu. 
Let me live but two years,  
And do what ye will with me;  
I never had but two hours yet of happiness;  
Pray ye give me nothing to provoke my valour,  
For I am even as weary of this fight—  2 Phi. 
Ye shall have nothing; come to the Prince's Tent  
And there the Surgeons presently shall search ye,  
Then to your. rest.  Lieu. 
A little handsome litter  
To lay me in, and I shall sleep.  Leo. 
Look to him.  Dem. 
I do believe a Horse begot this Fellow,  
He never knew his strength yet; they are our own.  Leo. 
I think so, I am cozened else; I would but see now  
A way to fetch these off, and save their honours.  Dem. 
Only their lives.  Leo. 
Pray ye take no way of Peace now,  
Unless it be with infinite advantage.  Dem. 
I shall be ruled; Enter Trumpet and Herold.  
Let the Battles now move forward,  
Ourselves will give the Signal:  
Now Herold, What's your Message?  Her. 
From my Masters  
This honourable courtesy, a Parley  
For half an hour, no more Sir.  Dem. 
Let 'em come on,  
They have my Princely word.  Enter Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Attendants, Soldiers. Her. 
They are here to attend ye.  Dem. 
Now Princes, your demands?  Sel. 
Peace, if it may be  
Without the too much tainture of our honour:  
Peace, and we'll buy it too.  Dem. 
At what price?  Ly. 
Tribute.  Ptol. 
At all the charge of this War.  Leo. 
That will not do.  Sel. 
Leontius, you and I have served together,  
And run through many a Fortune with our Swords  
Brothers in wounds, and health; one Meat has fed us,  
One tent a thousand times from cold night covered us:  
Our loves have been but one; and had we died then,  
One Monument had held our Names, and Actions:  
Why do you set upon your Friends such Prizes?  
And Sacrifice to giddy chance such Trophies?  
Have we forgot to die? or are our Virtues  
Less in Afflictions constant, than our Fortunes?  
Ye are deceived old Soldier.  Leo. 
I know your worths,  
And thus low bow in reverence to your Virtues:  
Were these my Wars, or lead my power in chief here,  
I knew then how to meet your Memories:  
They are my King's employments; this Man sights now  
To whom I owe all duty, faith, and service;  
This man that fled before ye; call back that,  
That bloody day again, call that disgrace home,  
And then an easy peace, may sheathe our swords up.  
I am not greedy of your lives and fortunes,  
Nor do I gape ungratefully to swallow ye,  
Honour the spur of all illustrious natures,  
That made you famous Soldiers, and next Kings,  
And not ambitious envy strikes me forward,  
Will ye unarm, and yield yourselves his prisoners?  Sel. 
We never knew what that sound meant: no gives  
Shall ever bind this body, but embraces;  
Nor weight of sorrow here, till earth fall on me.  Leo. 
Expect our charge then.  Lys. 
'Tis the nobler courtesy:  
And so we leave the hand of heaven to bless us.  Dem. 
Stay, have you any hope?  Cel. 
We have none left us,  
But that one comfort of our deaths together;  
Give us but room to fight.  Leo. 
Win it, and wear it.  Ptol. 
Call from the hills those companies hang o'er us  
Like bursting clouds; and then break in, and take us.  Dem. 
Find such a Soldier will forsake advantage,  
And we'll draw off, to show I dare be noble,  
And hang a light out to ye in this darkness,  
The light of peace; give up those Cities, forts,  
And all those frontier Countries to our uses.  Sel. 
Is this the peace? traitors to those that feed us,  
Our Gods and people? give our Countries from us?  Lys. 
Begin the knell, it sounds a great deal sweeter.  Ptol. 
Let loose your servant death.  Sel. 
Fall fate upon us,  
Our memories shall never stink behind us.  Dem. 
Seleucus, great Selcucus.  Ptol. 
The Prince calls Sir.  Dem. 
Thou stock of nobleness, and courtesy,  
Thou father of the War—  Leo. 
What means the Prince now?  Dem. 
Give me my Standard here.  Lys. 
His anger's melted.  Dem. 
You Gentlemen that were his Prisoners,  
And felt the bounty of that noble nature,  
Lay all your hands, and bear these Colours to him,  
The Standard of the Kingdom; take it Soldier.  Ptol. 
What will this mean?  Dem. 
Thou hast won it, bear it off,  
And draw thy Men home whilst we wait upon thee.  Sel. 
You shall have all our Countries.  Lys. 
Ptol. All by Heaven Sir.  Dem. 
I will not have a Stone, a Brush, a Bramble,  
No, in the way of courtesy, I'll start ye;  
Draw off, and make a Lane through all the Army,  
That these that have subdued us, may March through us.  Sel. 
Sir, do not make me surset with such goodness,  
I'll bear your Standard for ye; follow ye.  Dem. 
I Swear it shall be so, March through me fairly,  
And thine be this days honour, great Seleucus.  Ptol. 
Mirror of noble Minds.  Dem. 
Nay then ye hate me.  Leo. 
I cannot speak now: Ex. with Drums and Shouts.  
Well, go thy ways, at a sure piece of bravery  
Thou art the best, these Men are won by th' necks now:  
I'll send a Post away.    

ACT IV. SCENE I.  
Ant. 
NO aptness in her?  Men. 
Not an immodest motion,  
And yet she is as free, and when she is courted,  
Makes as wild witty answers.  Ant. 
This more fires me, I must not have her thus.  Men. 
We cannot alter her.  Ant. 
Have you put the youths upon her?  Men. 
All that know any thing,  
And have been studied how to catch a Beauty,  
But like so many Whelps about an Elephant—  
The Prince is coming home Sir.  Ant. 
I hear that too,  
But that's no matter; Am I altered well?  Men. 
Not to be known I think Sir.  Ant. 
I must see her.  Enter 2 Gentlemen, or Lords. 1 Gent. 
I offered all I had, all I could think of,  
〈◊〉 her through all the points o'th' Compass, I think.  2 Gent. 
She studies to undo the Court, to plant here  
The enemy to our Age, Chastity?  
She is the first, that e'er balked a close Arbour,  
And the sweet contents within: She hates curled heads too,  
And setting up of Beards she swears is Idolatry.  1. Gent. 
I never knew so fair a Face so froze;  
Yet she would make one think—  2 Gent. 
True by her carriage, for she's as wanton as a kid to th' out side, as full of mocks and taunts: I kissed her hand too, walked with her half an hour.  1 Gent. 
She heard me sing,  
And sung 〈◊〉 self too; she sings admirably;  
But still, when any hopes was, as 'tis her trick  
To minister enough of those, then presently  
With some new 〈◊〉 or other, nothing to th' matter,  
And such a frown, as would sink all before her,  
She takes her chamber; come we shall not be the last fools.  2 Gent. 
Not by a hundred I hope; 'tis a strange wench.  Ant. 
This 〈◊〉 me up still higher.  Enter Celia, and Ladies behind her. Men. 
Here she comes Sir.  Ant. 
Then be you gone: and take the women with ye,  
And lay those Jewels in her way.  Cel. 
If I stay longer  
I shall number as many lovers as 〈◊〉 did;  
How they flock after me? upon my conscience,  
I have had a dozen horses given me this morning,  
I'll even set up a troop, and turn she soldier,  
A good discreet wench now, that were not hidebound  
Might raise a fine estate here, and suddenly:  
For these warm things will give their souls— I can go no where  
Without a world of offering to my excellence:  
I am a Queen, a Goddess, I know not what—  
And no constellation in all heaven, but I outshine it;  
And they have found out now I have no eyes  
Of mortal lights, but certain influences,  
Strange virtuous lightnings, humane nature starts at,  
And I can kill my twenty in a morning,  
With as much ease now—  
Ha? what are these; new projects?  
Where are my honourable Ladies? Are you out too?  
Nay then I must buy the Stock, send me good carding;  
I hope the Prince's hand, be not in this sport;  
I have not seen him yet, cannot hear from him,  
And that, that troubles me: all these were recreations,  
Had I but his sweet company to Laugh with me:  
What Fellow's that? Another Apparition?  
This is the 〈◊〉 Age: I should know that face,  
Sure I have seen't before, not long since neither.  Ant. 
She sees me now: O 〈◊〉, a most rare creature!  Cel. 
Yes, 'tis the same: I will take no notice of ye,  
But if I do not sit ye, let me fry for't;  
Is all this Cackling for your egg; they are fair ones,  
Excellent rich no doubt too; and may stumble  
A good stayed mind, but I can go thus by 'em;  
My honest friend, do you set off these Jewels?  Ant. 
Set 'em off, Lady?  Cel. 
I mean, sell 'em here, Sir?  Ant. 
She's very quick: for sale they are not meant sure.  Cel. 
For sanctity I think much less: good even Sir.  Ant. 
Nay noble Lady, stay: 'tis you must wear 'em:  
Never look strange, they are worthy your best beauty.  Cel. 
Did you speak to me?  Ant. 
To you or to none living:  
To you they are sent, to you they are sacrificed.  Cel. 
I'll never look a Horse i'th' mouth that's given:  
I thank ye, Sir: I'll send one to reward ye.  Ant. 
Do you never ask who scent 'em?  Cel. 
Never I:  
Nor never care, if it be an honest end,  
That end's the full reward, and thanks but slubber it;  
If it be ill, I will not urge the acquaintance.  Ant. 
This has a soul indeed: pray let me tell ye—  Cel. 
I care not if ye do, so you do it handsomely,  
And not stand picking of your words.  Ant. 
The King sent 'em.  Celestina 
Away, away, thou art some foolish fellow, and now I think thou hast stole 'em too; the King sent 'em? Alas good man, wouldst thou make me believe he has nothing to do with things of these worths, but wantonly to fling 'em? he's an old man, a good old man, they say too: I dare swear full many a year ago he left these gambols: here, take your trinkets.  Ant. 
Sure I do not lie, Lady.  Cel. 
I know thou liest extremely, damnably:  
Thou hast a lying face.  Ant. 
I was never thus rattled.  (Aside. Cel. 
But say I should believe: why are these sent me?  
And why art thou the Messenger? who art thou?  Ant. 
Lady, look on 'em wisely, and then consider who can send such as these, but a King only? and, to what beauty can they be oblations, but only yours? For me that am the carrier, 'tis only sit you know I am his servant, and have fulfilled his will  Cel. 
You are short and pithy;  
What must my beauty do for these?  Ant. 
Sweet Lady, you cannot be so hard of understanding, when a King's favour shines upon ye gloriously, and speaks his love in these—  Cel. 
O than love's the matter; Sir reverence love: now I begin to feel ye: and I should be the King's Whore, a brave title: and go as glorious as the Sun, O brave still: the chief Commandress of his Concubines, hurried from place to place to meet his pleasures.  Ant. 
A deyilish subt il wench, but a rare spirit.  [Aside. Cel. 
And when the good old sponge has sucked my youth dry, and left some of his Royal aches i' my bones: when time shall tell me I have ploughed my life up, and cast long furrows in my face to 〈◊〉 me.  Ant. 
You must not think so, Lady.  Cel. 
Then can these, Sir,  
These precious things, the price of youth and beauty;  
This shop here of sin-offerings set me off again?  
Can it restore me chaste, young, innocent?  
Purge me to what I was? add to my memory  
An honest and a noble fame? The King's device?  
The sin's as universal as the Sun is,  
And lights an everlasting Torch to shame me.  Ant. 
Do you hold so slight account of a great King's 〈◊〉,  
That all knees bow to purchase?  Cel. 
Prithee peace: If thou knewst how ill favouredly thy tale becomes thee, and what ill root it takes—  Ant. 
You would be wiser.  Cel. 
Could the King sinned no shape to shift his pander into,  
But reverend Age? and one so like himself too?  Ant. 
She has found me out.  Cel. 
Cozen the world with gravity?  
Prithee resolve me one thing, does the King love thee?  Ant. 
I think he does.  Cel. 
It seems so by thy Office: he loves thy use, and when that's ended, hates thee: thou seemest to me a Soldier.  Ant. 
Yes, I am one.  Cel. 
And hast fought for thy Country?  Ant. 
Many a time.  Cel. 
May be, commanded too?  Ant. 
I have done, Lady.  Cel. 
O wretched man, below the state of pity!  
Canst thou forget thou wert begot in honour?  
A sree Companion for a King? a Soldier?  
Whose Nobleness dare feel no want, but Enemies?  
〈◊〉 thou forget this, and decline so wretchedly,  
To eat the Bread of Bawdry, of base Bawdry?  
〈◊〉 on the 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉? fling thy Sword from thee?  
Dishonour to the noble name that nursed thee?  
Go, beg diseases: let them be thy Armour's,  
Thy sights, the flames of Lust, and their foul issues.  Ant. 
Why then I am a King, and mine own Speaker.  Cel. 
And I as free as you, mine own Disposer: There, take your Jewels; let them give them lustres that have dark Lives and Souls; wear 'em your self, Sir, you'll seem a Devil else.  Ant. 
I command ye stay.  Cel. 
Be just, I am commanded.  Ant. 
I will not wrong ye.  Cel. 
Then thus low falls my duty.  Ant. 
Can ye love me? say I, and all I have—  Cel. 
I cannot love ye; without the 〈◊〉 of faith I cannot hear ye; ye hand upon my love, like frosts on Lilies: I can die, but I cannot love: you are answered.  Exit. Ant. 
I must find apt means, I love her truly.  Exit.  

Scene 2.  Enter Demetr. Leon. Lieu. Gent. Sould. and Host. Dem. 
Hither do you say she is come?  Host. 
Yes Sir, I am sure on't: for whilst I waited ' on ye, putting my Wife in trust, I know not by what means, but the King found her, and hither she was brought; how, or to what end—  Dem. 
My Father found her?  Host. 
So my Wife informs me.  Dem. 
Leontius, pray draw off the Soldiers,  
I would a while be private.  Leon. 
Fall off Gentlemen, the Prince would be alone.  Ex. Leo. and Soul. Dem. 
Is he so cunning? there is some trick in this, and you must know it, and be an agent too: which if it prove so—  Host. 
Pull me to pieces, Sir.  Dem. 
My Father found her?  
My Father brought her hither? went she willingly?  Host. 
My Wife says full of doubts.  Dem. 
I cannot blame her,  
No more: there's no trust, no faith in mankind.  Enter Antigonus, Menippus, Leontius, and Soldiers. Ant. 
Keep her up close, he must not come to see her:  
You are welcome nobly now, welcome home Gentlemen;  
You have done a courteour service on the Enemy  
Has tied his Faith for ever; you shall find it;  
Ye are not now in's debt Son: still your sad looks?  
Leontius, what's the matter?  Leo. 
Truth Sir, I know not.  
We have been merry since we went.  Lieu. 
I feel it.  Ant. 
Come, what's the matter now? do you want money?  
Sure he has heard o'th' wench.  Dem. 
Is that a want, Sir?  
I would fain speak to your Grace.  Ant. 
You may do freely.  Dem. 
And not deserve your anger?  Ant. 
That you may too.  Dem. 
There was a Gentlewoman, and sometime my prisoner,  
Which I thought well of Sir: your Grace conceives me.  Ant. 
I do indeed, and with much grief conceive ye; with full as much grief as your Mother bore you. There was such a Woman: would I might as well say, there was no such, Demetrius'.  Dem. 
She was virtuous, and therefore not unfit my youth to love her: she was as fair—  Ant. 
Her beauty I'll proclaim too, to be as rich as ever reigned in Woman; but how she made that good, the Devil knows.  Dem. 
She was— O Heaven!  Ant. 
The Hell to all thy glories,  
Swallowed thy youth, made Shipwreck of thine honour: she was a Devil.  Dem. 
Ye are my Father, Sir.  Ant. 
And since ye take a pride to show your follies,  
I'll muster 'em, and all the World shall view 'em.  Leo. 
What heat is this? the King's eyes speak his Anger.  Ant. 
Thou hast abused thy youth, drawn to thy Fellowship, instead of Arts and Arms, a Woman's kisses, the subtleties, and soft heats of a Harlot.  Dem. 
Good Sir, mistake her not.  Ant. 
A Witch, a Sorceress:  
I tell thee but the truth; and hear Demetrius,  
Which has so dealt upon thy blood with charms,  
Devilish and dark; so locked up all thy Virtues;  
So plucked thee back from what thou sprungst from, glorious.  Dem. 
O Heaven, that any tongue but his durst say this!  
That any heart durst harbour it! Dread Father,  
If for the innocent the gods allow us  
To bend our knees—  Ant. 
Away, thou art bewitched still;  
Though she be dead, her power still lives upon thee.  Dem. 
Dead? O sacred Sir: Dead did you say?  Ant. 
She is dead, fool.  Dem. 
It is not possible: be not so angry,  
Say she is fallen under your sad displeasure,  
Or any thing but dead, say she is banished,  
Invent a crime, and I'll believe it, Sir.  Ant. 
Dead by the Law: we found her Hell, and her,  
I mean her Charms and Spells, for which she perished,  
And she confessed she drew thee to thy ruin,  
And purposed it, purposed my Empire's overthrow.  Dem. 
But is she dead? Was there no pity Sir?  
If her youth erred, Was there no mercy shown her?  
Did 〈◊〉 look on her Face, when ye Condemned her?  Ant. 
I looked into her heart, and there she was hideous.  Dem. 
Can she be dead? Can virtue fall untimely?  Ant. 
She is dead, deservingly she died.  Dem. 
I have done then. O matchless sweetness, whither art thou vanished? O thou fair soul of all thy Sex, what Paradise hast thou enriched and blessed? I am your Son, Sir, and to all you shall command stand most obedient; only a little time I must entreat you to study to forget her; 'twill not be long, Sir, nor I long after it: Art thou dead Celia? Dead my poor Wench? my joy, plucked green with violence: O fair sweet flower, farewell? Come thou destroyer Sorrow, thou melter of the Soul, dwell with me; dwell with me solitary thoughts, tears, cry, nothing that loves the day, love me, or seek me, nothing that loves its own life haunt about me: and Love, I charge thee, never charm mine eyes more, nor ne'er betray a Beauty to my curses: for I shall curse all now, hate all, forswear all, and all the brood of fruitful nature yex at, for she is gone that was all, and I nothing—  [Ex. and Gent. Ant. 
This opinion must be maintained.  Men. 
It shall be, Sir.  Ant. 
Let him go; I can at mine own pleasure draw him to th' right again: wait your Instructions, and see the Soldier paid Leontius: once more ye are welcome all.  All. 
Health to your Majesty.  [Exit. Antig. etc. Leo. 
Thou goest along the journey, How canst thou tell?  Host. 
I did, but I am sure 'tis so: had I 〈◊〉 behind,  
I think this had not proved.  Leo. 
A Wench the reason?  Lieu. 
Who's that talks of a Wench there?  Leo. 
All this discontent  
About a Wench?  Lieu. 
Where is this Wench; good Colonel?  Leo. 
Prithee hold thy Peace: Who calls thee to Counsel?  Lieu. 
Why, if there be a Wench—  Leo. 
'Tis sit thou know her: Enter 2 Gentlemen.  
That I'll say for thee, and as fit thou art for her,  
Let her be mewed or stopped: How is it Gentlemen?  1. Gent. 
He's wondrous discontent, he'll speak to no Man.  2. Gent. 
H'has taken his Chamber close, admits no entrance;  
Tears in his eyes, and cry out.  Host. 
'Tis so, Sir,  
And now I wish myself half hanged ere I went this journey.  Leo. 
What is this Woman?  Lieu. 
I.  Host. 
I cannot tell ye,  
But handsome as Heaven.  Lieu. 
She is not so high I hope, Sir.  Leo. 
Where is she?  Lieu. 
ay, that would be known.  Leo. 
Why, Sirrah.  Host. 
I cannot show ye neither;  
The King has now disposed of her.  Leo. 
There lies the matter:  
Will he admit none to come to comfort him?  1 Gent. 
Not any near, nor, let 'em knock their hearts out,  
Will never speak.  Lieu. 
'Tis the best way if he have her;  
For look you, a Man would be loath to be disturbed in's pastime;  
'Tis every good Man's case.  Leo. 
'Tis all thy Living, we must not suffer this, we dare not suffer it: for when these tender Souls meet deep 〈◊〉, they are not strong enough to struggle with 'em, but drop away as Snow does, from a Mountain, and in the torrent of their own sighs sink themselves: I will, and must speak to him.  Lieu. 
So must I too:  
He promised me a charge.  Leo. 
Of what? of Children  
Upon my Conscience, thou hast a double company,  
And all of thy own 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Lieu. 
That's all one, I'll raise 'em to a Regiment, und then command 'em, when they turn disobedient, unbeget 'em: knock 'em o'th' head, and put in new.  Leo. 
A rare way; but for all this, thou art not valiant enough to dare to see the Prince now?  Lieu. 
Do ye think he's angry?  1 Gent. 
Extremely vexed.  2 Gent. 
To the endangering of any Man 〈◊〉 near him.  1. Gent. 
Yet, if thou couldst but win him out, what e'er thy suit were, believe it granted presently.  Leo. 
Yet thou must think though,  
That in the doing he may break upon ye,  
And—  Lieu. 
If he do not kill me.  Leo. 
There's the question.  Lieu. 
For half a dozen hurts.  Leo. 
Art thou so valiant?  Lieu. 
Not absolutely so neither: no it cannot be, I want my Impostumes, and my things about mt, yet I'll make danger, Colonel.  Leo. 
Till be rare sport, howe'er it take; give me thy hand; if thou dost this, I'll raise thee up a Horse Troop, take my word for't.  Lieu. 
What may be done by humane Man.  Leo. 
Let's go then.  1 Gent. 
Away before he cool: he will relapse else.  [Exit.  

Scene 3.  Enter Antigonus, Menippus, and 〈◊〉. Ant. 
Will she not yield?  Leu. 
For all we can urge to her;  
I swore you would Marry her, she laughed extremely,  
And then she railed like Thunder.  Ant. 
Call in the Magician. Enter Magician with a Bowl.  
I must, and will obtain her, I am ashes else.  
Are all the Philters in? Charms, Powder, Roots?  Mag. 
They are all in; and now I only stay  
The Invocation of some helping Spirits.  Ant. 
To your work then, and dispatch.  Mag. 
Sat still, and fear not.  Lieu. 
I shall ne'er 〈◊〉 these sights.  Ant. 
Away with the Woman: go wait without.  Leu. 
When the Devil's gone, pray call me.  (Exit. Ant. 
Be sure you make it powerful enough.  Mag. 
Pray doubt not— He Conjures.  

A SONG.  
RIse from the Shades below,  
All you that prove  
The helps of loser Love;  
Rise and beslow  
Upon this Cup, whatever may compel  
By powerful Charm, and unresisted Spell.  
A Heart unwarmed to melt in Love's desires,  
Distil into this Liquor all your fires:  
Heats, longings, tears,  
But keep back frozen fears;  
That she may know, that has 〈◊〉 power desyed,  
Art is a power that will not be denied.   

The ANSWER.  
I Obey, I Obey,  
And am come to view the 〈◊〉,  
Brought along, all may 〈◊〉,  
All the Earth has, and our 〈◊〉:  
Here's a little, little Flower,  
This will make her sweat an hour,  
Then unto such slames arise,  
A thousand joys will not suffice.  
Here's the powder of the Moon,  
With which she caught Endymion;  
The powerful Tears that Venus cried,  
When the Boy Adonis died  
Here's Medea's Charm, with which  
Jason's heart she did bewitch,  
Omphale this Spell put in,  
When she made the Libyan spin.  
This dull root plucked from Lethe 〈◊〉,  
Purges all pure thoughts, and good.   

These I 〈◊〉 thus, round, round, round,  
Whilst our light feet beat the ground.   Mag. 
Now Sir, 'tis full, and whosoever drinks this  
Shall violently 〈◊〉 upon your Person,  
And never 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 eat 〈◊〉:  
So 〈◊〉 hours 'twill work, and work with Violence;  
And those expired, 'tis done. You have my art, Sir.  Enter Leucippe. Ant. 
See him rewarded liberally— Leucippe,  
Here, take this Bowl, and when she calls for Wine next,  
Be sure you give her this, and see her drink it;  
Delay no time when she calls next.  Leu. 
I shall, Sir.  Ant. 
Let none else touch it on your life.  Leu. 
I am charged, Sir.  Ant. 
Now if she have an Antidote Art, let her escape me.  (Exeunt. Enter Leontius, Lieutenant, Gent. 1 Gent. 1 Gent. 
There's the Door, Lieutenant, if you dare do any thing.  Leo. 
Here's no man waits.  1 Gent. 
H'as given a charge that none shall,  
Nor none shall come within the hearing of him:  
Dare ye go forward?  Lieu. 
Let me put on my Skull first.  
My head's almost beaten into th' pap of an Apple.  
Are there no Guns i'th' door?  Leo. 
The Rogue will do it.  
And yet I know he has no 〈◊〉 to't.  Lieu. 
What 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 when I knock, for stones,  
For those may pepper 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 none.  Leo. 
How he 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Lieu. 
 
If I be  Leo. 
.  Lieu. 
Away, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that then? I'll knock softly.  
Pray heaven he speaks in a low voice now to comfort me:  
I feel I have no heart to't:— Is't well, Gentlemen?  
Colonel, my Troop—  Leo. 
A little 〈◊〉.  Lieu. 
Stay, stay;  
Here is a window, I will see, stand wide.  
By— he's charging of a Gun.  Leo. 
There's no such matter.  
There's no body in this room.  Lieu. 
O'twas a fireshovel:  
Now I'll knock louder; if he say who's there?  
As sure he has so much manners, then will I answer him  
So finely and demurely; my Troop Colonel—  Knocks louder. 1 Gent. 
Knock louder, Fool, he hears not.  Lieu. 
You fool, do you.  
Do and you dare now.  1 Gent. 
I do not undertake it.  Lieu. 
Then hold your peace, and mddle with your own matters.  Leo. 
Now he will knock.  (Knocks louder. Lieu. 
Sir, Sir, will't please you hear Sir? your Grace, I'll look again, what's that?  Leo. 
He's there now. Lord! How he stairs! I ne'er yet saw him thus, altered: Stand now, and take the Troop.  Lieu. 
Would I were in't, and a good horse under me: I must knock again, the Devil's at my finger's ends: He comes now. Now Colonel, if I live—  Leo. 
The Troop's thine own Boy.  Enter Demetrius, a Pistol. Dem. 
What desperate fool, ambitious of his ruin?  Lieu. 
Your Father, would desire ye, Sir, to come to dinner.  Dem. 
Thou art no more.  Lieu. 
Now, now, now, now.  Dem. 
Poor Coxcomb: why do I aim at thee?  Exit. Leo. 
His fear 〈◊〉 killed him.  Enter Leucippe with a Bowl. 2 Gent. 
I protest he's almost stiff: bend him and rub him, hold his Nose close, you if you be a woman, help us a little: here's a man near perished.  Leu. 
Alas alas, I have nothing here about me. Look to my Bowl; I'll run in presently and fetch some waters: bend him, and set him upwards.  Exit. Leo. 
A goodly man— Here's a brave heart: he's warm again: you shall not leave us i'th' 〈◊〉 so, Sirrah.  2 Gent. 
Now he breathes too.  Leo. 
If we had but any drink to raise his Spirits. What's that i'th' Bowl? upon my life, good Liquor, she would not own it else.  1 Gent. 
He sees.  Leo. 
Look up Boy. And take this Cup, and drink it off; I'll pledge thee. Guide it to his mouth, he swallows heartily.  2 Gent. 
Oh! fear and sorrow's dry; 'tis off—  Leo. 
Stand up man.  Lieu. 
Am I not shot?  Leo. 
A way with him, and cheer him: thou hast won thy Troop.  Lieu. 
I think I won it bravely.  Leo. 
Go, I must see the Prince, he must not live thus; and let me hear an hour hence from ye. Well Sir—  Exeunt Gent. and Lieu. Enter Leucippe with water. Leu. 
Here, here: where's the sick Gentleman?  Leo. 
He's up, and gone, Lady.  Leu. 
Alas, that I came so late.  Leo. 
He must still thank ye; ye left that in a Cup here did him comfort.  Leu. 
That in the Bowl?  Leo. 
Yes truly, very much comfort, he drank it off, and after it spoke lustily.  Leu. 
Did he drink it all?  Leo. 
All off.  Leu. 
The Devil choke him; I am undone: h'as twenty Devils in him; undone for ever, left he none?  Leo. 
I think not.  Leu. 
No, not a drop: what shall become of me now? had he no where else to swoon? a vengeance swoon him: Undone, undone, undone: stay, I can lie yet and swear too at a pinch, that's all my comfort. Look to him; I say look to him, and but mark what follows.  Exit. Enter Demetrius. Leo. 
What a Devil ails the Woman? here comes the Prince again, with such a sadness on his face, as sorrow, sorrow herself but poorly imitates. Sorrow of Sorrows on that heart that caused it.  Dem. 
Why might she not be false and treacherous to me? and found so by my Father? she was a Woman, and many a one of that Sex, young and fair, as full of faith as she, have fallen, and foully.  Leo. 
It is a Wench! O that I knew the circumstance.  Dem. 
Why might not, to preserve me from this ruin, she having lost her honour, and abused me, my father change the forms o'th' coins, and execute his anger on a fault she ne'er committed, only to keep me safe? why should I think so? She never was to me, but all obedience, sweetness and love.  Leo. 
How heartily he weeps now? I have not wept this thirty years, and upward; but now, if I should be hanged I cannot hold from't: It grieves me to the heart.  Dem. 
Who's that that mocks me?  〈◊〉. 
A plague of him that mocks ye: I grieve truly, truly, and heartily to 〈◊〉 you thus, Sir: and if it lay in my power, gods are my witness, who e'er he be that took your sweet peace from you; I am not so old yet, nor want I spirit—  Dem. 
No more of that, no more Leonitus, revenges are the gods: our part is sufferance: farewel, I shall not see thee long.  Leo. 
Good Sir, tell me the cause, I know there is a woman in't; do you hold me faithful? dare you trust your Soldier? sweet Prince, the cause?  Dem. 
I must not, dare not tell it, and as thou art an honest man, inquire not.  Leo. 
Will ye be merry then?  Dem. 
I am, wondrous 〈◊〉  Leo. 
'Tis wondrous well: you think now this becomes ye. Shame on't, it does not, Sir, it shows not handsomely; If I were thus; you would swear I were an Ass strait; a wooden ass; whine for a Wench?  Dem. 
Prithee leave me.  Leo. 
I will not leave ye for a tit.  Dem. 
Leontius!  Leo. 
For that you may have any where for six pence, and a dear penny worth too.  Dem. 
Nay, than you are troublesome.  Leo. 
Not half so troublesome as you are to yourself, Sir; was that brave 〈◊〉 made to pant for a placket: and now i'th' dog-days too, when nothing dare love! That noble Mind to melt away and moulder for a hay nonny, nonny! Would I had a Glass here, to show ye what a pretty toy ye are turned to.  Dem. 
My wretched Fortune.  Leo. 
Will ye but let me know her? I'll once turn Bawd: go to, they are good men's offices, and not so contemptible as we take 'em for: and if she be above ground, and a Woman; I ask no more; I'll bring her o' my back, Sir, By this hand I will, and I had as lief bring the Devil, I care not who she be, nor where I have her; and in your arms, or the next Bed deliver her, which you think fittest, and when you have danced your galliard.  Dem. 
Away, and fool to them are so affected: O thou art gone, and all my comfort with thee! Wilt thou do one thing for me?  Leo. 
All things i'th' World, Sir, of all dangers.  Dem. 
Swear.  Leo. 
I will.  Dem. 
Come near me no more then  Leo. 
How?  Dem. 
Come no more near me: thou art a plague-sore to me.  Exit. Leo. 
Give you good even Sir; If you be suffered thus, we shall have 〈◊〉 sport. I will be sorry yet.  Enter 2 Gentlemen. 1 Gent. 
How now, how does he?  Leo. 
Nay, if I tell ye, hang me, or any man else that hath his nineteen wits; he has the bots I think, he groans, and roars, and kicks.  2 Gent. 
Will he speak yet?  Leo. 
Not willingly: shortly he will not see a man; if ever I looked upon a Prince so metamorphosed, so juggled into I know not what, shame take me; this 'tis to be in love  1 Gent. 
Is that the cause on't?  Leo. 
What is it not the cause of but bear-baitings? And yet it stinks much like it: out upon't; what giants, and what dwarves what owls and apes, what dogs, and cats it makes us? men that are possessed with it, live as if they had a Legion of Devils in 'em, and every Devil of a several nature; nothing but Hey-pass,, re-pass: where's the Lieutenant? Has he gathered up the end on's wits again?  1 Gent. 
He is alive: but you that talk of wonders, show me but such a wonder as he is now.  Leo. 
Why, he was ever at the worst a wonder.  2 Gent. 
He is now most wonderful; a Blazer now, Sir.  Leo. 
What ails the Fool? and what Star reigns now Gentlemen we have such Prodigies?  2 Gent. 
'Twill pose your heaven-hunters; he talks now of the King, no other language, and with the King as he imagines, hourly. Courts the King, drinks to the King, dies for the King, buys all the Pictures of the King, wears the King's colours.  Leo. 
Does he not lie i'th' King street too?  1 Gent. 
He's going thither, makes prayers for the King in sundry languages, turns all his Proclamations into metre; is really in love with the King, most dotingly, and swears Adonis was a Devil to him: A sweet King, a most comely King, and such a King—  2 Gent. 
Then down on's murrow-bones; O excellent King, thus he begins, Thou Light, and Life of Creatures, Angel-eyed King, vouchsafe at length thy favour; and so proceeds to incision: what thinst ye of this sorrow?  1 Gent. 
Will as familiarly kiss the King's horses as they pass by him: ready to ravish his footmen.  Leo. 
Why, this is above Ela? but how comes this?  1 Gent. 
Nay that's to understand yet, but thus it is, and this part but the poorest, 'twould make a man leap over the Moon to see him act these.  2 Gent. 
With sighs as though his heart would break: cry like a breeched boy, not eat a bit.  Leo. 
I must go see him presently, for this is such a gig, for certain Gentlemen, the Fiend rides on a Fiddlestick.  2 Gent. 
I think so.  Leo. 
Can ye guide me to him for half an hour? I am his to see the miracle.  1 Gent. 
We sure shall start him. Exeunt.   

Scene 5.  Enter Antigonus and Leucippe. Ant. 
Are you sure she drank it?  Leu. 
Now must I lie most confidently. Yes Sir, she has drunk it off.  Ant. 
How works it with her?  Leu. 
I see no alteration yet.  Ant. 
There will be, for he is the greatest Artist living made it. Where is she now?  Leu. 
She is ready to walk out, Sir.  Ant. 
Stark mad, I know she will be.  Leu. 
So I hope, Sir.  Ant. 
She knows not of the Prince?  Leu. 
Of no man living—  Ant. 
How do I look! how do my clothes become me? I am not very grey.  Leu. 
A very youth, Sir, upon my maidenhead as 〈◊〉 as April: heaven bless that sweet face, 'twill undo a thousand; many a soft heart must sob yet, 〈◊〉 that whither, your Grace can give content enough.  Enter Celia with a Book. Ant. 
I think so.  Leu. 
Here she comes, Sir.  Ant. 
How shall I keep her off me? go, and perfume the room: make all things ready.  Exit. Leu. Cel. 
No hope yet of the Prince! no comfort of him! they keep me mewed up here, as they mew mad folks, no company but my afflictions. This royal Devil again! strange, how he haunts me! how like a poisoned potion his eyes fright me! has made himself handsome-too.  Ant. 
Do you look now, Lady? you will leap anon.  (Aside Cel. 
Cnrled and Perfumed? I smell him; he looks on's Legs too, sure he will cut a Caper; God a Mercy dear December.  Ant. 
O do you smile now; I knew it would work with you; come hither pretty one.  Cel. 
Sir.  Ant. 
I like those Courtesies well; come hither and kiss me.  Cel. 
I am reading, Sir, of a short Treatise here, that's called the Vanity of 〈◊〉: Has your Grace seen it? He says here, that an Old Man's loose desire, 〈◊〉 like the Glow-worm's light, the Apes so wondered at: which, when they gathered Sticks, and laid upon't, and blue, and blue, turned Tail, and went out presently: And in another place he calls their Loves, 〈◊〉 smells of dying Flowers, carry no comforts; they're doting, stinking Fogs, so thick and muddy, 〈◊〉 with all his beams cannot beat through 'em.  Ant. 
How's this? 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉? you but fool still I know you love me.  Cel. 
As you are just and honest? I know I love and honour you: admire you.  Ant. 
This makes against me, fearfully against me.  Cel. 
But as you bring your power to 〈◊〉 me, your Traps to catch mine 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; as you 〈◊〉 out your 〈◊〉 to overwhelm me, Hell never haved good, as I 〈◊〉 you, Sir; and I dare tell it to your Face: What glory now, after all your Conquests got, your Titles, the everliving Memories raised to you; Can my defeat be? my poor 〈◊〉, What triumph? and when you crown your swelling Cups to Fortune, What honourable Tongue can sing my Story? Be as your Emblem is, a glorious Lamp set on the top of all, to light all perfectly: Be as your office is, a godlike Justice, into all shedding equally your Virtues.  Ant. 
She has drenched me now; now I admire her goodness; so young, so nobly strong, I never tasted: Can nothing in the power of Kings persuade ye?  Cel. 
No, nor that power command me.  Ant. 
Say I should force ye? I have it in my will.  Cel. 
Your Will's a poor one; and though it be a King's Will, a despised one. Weaker than Infant's legs, your Will's in Swadling-Clouts; a thousand ways my will has found to 〈◊〉 ye; a thousand doors to escape ye, I dare die, Sir; as suddenly 〈◊〉 die, as you can offer: Nay, say you had your Will, say you had ravished me, performed your lust, What had you purchased by it? What Honour won? Do you know who dwells above, Sir, And what they have prepared for Men turned Devils? Did you never hear their Thunder? start and tremble, Death sitting on your blood, when their sires visit us. Will nothing wring you then do you think? sit hard here, and like a Snail curl round about 〈◊〉 Conscience, biting and stinging: Will you not roar too late then? then when rou shake in horror of this Villainy, then will I rise a Star in Heaven, and scorn ye.  Ant. 
Lust, how I hate thee now! and love this sweetness! Will you be my Queen? Can that price purchase ye?  Cel. 
Not all the World, I am a Queen already, Crowned by his Love, I must not lose for Fortune; I can give none away, sell none away, Sir, can lend no love, am not mine own Exchequer; for in another's heart my hope and peace lies.  Ant. 
Your fair hands, Lady? for yet I am not pure enough to touch these Lips, in that sweet Peace ye spoke of. Live now for ever, and I to serve your Virtues—  Cel. 
Why now you show a god! now I kneel to ye: This Sacrifice of Virgin's Joy send to ye: Thus I hold up my hands to Heaven that touched ye, and pray 〈◊〉 Blessings dwell about ye.  Ant. 
Virtue commands the Stars: rise more than Virtue; your present comfort shall be now my business.  Cel. 
All my obedient service wait upon ye.  (Ex. severally.  

Scene 6.  Enter Leontius, Gentlemen, and Lieutenant. Leo. 
Hast thou clean forgot the Wars?  Lieu. 
〈◊〉 hold thy peace.  1 Gent. 
His mind's much elevated now.  Leo. 
.  Lieu. 
I am 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with this Fellow  Leo. 
He will call me 〈◊〉 anon.  1 Gent. 
'Tis ten to one else.  Lieu. 
O King that thou knewest I loved thee, how I loved thee, and where, O King, I barrel up thy beauty.  Leo. 
He cannot leave his Sutler's trade, he Woo's in't.  Lieu. 
O never, King.  Leo. 
By this hand, when I consider—  Lieu. 
My honest friend, you are a little saucy.  1 Gent. 
I told you you would have it.  Lieu. 
When mine own worth—  Leo. 
Is flung into the balance, and found nothing.  [Aside. Lieu. 
And yet a Soldier.  Leo. 
And yet a saucy one.  [Aside. Lieu. 
One that has followed thee.  Leo. 
Fair and far off.  [Aside. Lieu. 
Fought for thy Grace.  Leo. 
'Twas for some 〈◊〉, you lie Sir.  [Aside. Lieu. 
He's the Son of a Whore denies this: Will that satisfy ye?  Leo. 
Yes, very well.  Lieu. 
Shall then that thing that honours thee? How miserable a thing soever, yet a thing still; And though a thing of nothing, thy thing ever.  Leo. 
Here's a new thing.  2 Gent. 
He's in a deep 〈◊〉 now.  Leo. 
I'll 〈◊〉 him our 〈◊〉 when's the King's Birthday?  Lieu. 
When e'er it be, 〈◊〉 day I'll die with Ringing. And there's the resolution of a Lover.  [Exit. Leo. 
A goodly resolution sure I take it. He is 〈◊〉, or mooped, or his brains 〈◊〉, Could he find no body to fall in Love with but the King, the good old 〈◊〉, to dote upon him too? Stay, now I remember, what the Fat Woman warned me, bade me remember, and look to him to: I'll hang if she have not a hand in this: he's conjured, go after him, I pity the poor Rascal; In the mean time I'll wait occasion to work upon the Prince.  2 Gent. 
Pray do that seriously.  (Exit severally.  

Scene 7.  Enter Antigonus, Menippus, Lords. Lord. 
He's very ill.  Ant. 
I am very sorry for't, and much ashamed I have wronged his Innocence; Menippus, guide her to the Prince's Lodgings, there leave her to his love again.  Men. 
I am glad, Sir.  Lord. 
He will speak to none.  Ant. 
O I shall break that silence; Be quick, take fair attendance.  Men. 
Yes Sir presently.  (Exit. Ant. 
He will find his Tongue, I warrant ye; his health too; (Exit.  
I send a Physic will not fail.  Lord. 
Fair work it.  Ant. 
We hear the Princes mean to visit us in way of truce.  Lord. 
'Tis thought so.  Ant. 
Come; let's in then, and think upon the noblest ways to meet 'em.  (Exeunt.  

Scene 8.  Enter Leontius. Leo. 
There's no way now to get in: all the Light stopped too; nor can I hear a sound of him, pray Heaven he use no violence: I think he has more Soul, stronger, and I hope nobler: Would I could but see once this Beaty he groans under, or come to know but any circumstance. What noise is that there? I think I heard him groan: here are some coming; a Woman too, I'll stand aloof, and view 'em.  Enter Menippus, Celia, Lords. Cel. 
Well, some of you have been to blame in this point, but I forgive ye: The King might have picked out too some sitter Woman to have tried his Valour.  Men. 
'Twas all to the best meant, Lady.  Cel. 
I must think so, for how to mend it now: he's here you tell me.  Men. 
He's Madam, and the joy to see you only will draw him out.  Leo. 
I know that Woman's Tongue, I think I have seen her Face too: I'll go nearer: If this be she, he has some cause of Sorrow: 'Tis the same Face; the same, most excellent Woman.  Cel. 
This should be Lord Leontius: I remember him.  Leo. 
Lady, I think ye know me.  Cel. 
Speak soft, good Soldier:  
I do, and know ye worthy, know ye Noble;  
Know not me yet openly, as you love me;  
But let me see ye again, I'll satisfy ye:  
I am wondrous glad to see those eyes.  Leo. 
You have charged me.  Cel. 
You shall know where I am.  Leo. 
I will not off yet: She goes to knock at's Door: This must be she the 〈◊〉 told me of: right glad I am on't, he will bolt now for certain.  〈◊〉 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Sir? I'll trouble ye no more: I thank your courtesy, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  〈◊〉 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 humble Servants.  (Ex. Me. etc. Cel. 
So now my 〈◊〉 are off: Pray Heaven he be here! Master, my Royal Sir Do 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who calls ye! Love, my Demetrius.  Leo. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Quail-pipes, the Cock will Crow anon.  Cel. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, when I call at your Window?  Leo. 
I 〈◊〉 him stirring: now he comes wondering out.  Enter Demetrius Dem. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 sound sure: the sweetness of that Tongue draws all 〈◊〉 to it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the shape too.  〈◊〉. 
How 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 upon her?  Dem. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 eyes abuse me? 'tis she, the living Celia: your hand Lady?  Cel. 
What 〈◊〉 this mean?  Dem. 
The very 〈◊〉 same Celia.  Cel. 
How do ye Sir?  Dem. 
Only turned brave. I heard you were dead my dear one, complete, She is wondrous brave, a wondrous Gallant Courtier.  Cel. 
How he surveys me round? Here has been foul play.  Dem. 
How came she thus?  Cel. 
It was a kind of Death, Sir, I suffered in your absence, mewed up here, and kept concealed I know not how.  Dem. 
'Tis likely: How came you hither Celia? wondrous Gallant: Did my Father send for ye?  Cel. 
So they told me, Sir, and on command too.  Dem. 
I hope you were obedient?  Cel. 
I was so ever.  Dem. 
And ye were bravely used?  Cel. 
I wanted nothing: My Maidenhead to a mote i'th' Sun, he's jealous: I must now play the Knave with him, tho' I die 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 in my nature.  Dem. 
Her very eyes are altered: Jewels, and rich ones too, I never saw yet— And what were those came for ye?  Cel. 
Monstrous Jealous: Have I lived at the rate of these scorned questions? they seemed of good sort, Gentlemen.  Dem. 
Kind Men?  Cel. 
They were wondrous kind: I was much beholding to 'em; There was one 〈◊〉 Sir.  Dem. 
Ha?  Cel. 
One 〈◊〉, a notable merry Lord, and a good Companion.  Dem. 
And one 〈◊〉 too?  Cel. 
Yes, there was such a one.  Dem. 
And Timon.  Cel. 
'Tis most true.  Dem. 
And thou most treacherous: my Father's bawds by— they never miss course; and were these 〈◊〉 with ye?  Cel. 
Every hour Sir.  Dem. 
And was there not a Lady, a fat Lady?  Cel. 
O yes; a notable good wench.  Dem. 
The Devil fetch her.  Cel. 
'Tis even the merriest wench—  Dem. 
Did she keep with ye too?  Cel. 
She was all in all; my bed fellow, eat with me, brought me acquainted.  Dem. 
You are well known here then?  Cel. 
There is no living here a stranger I think.  Dem. 
How came ye by this brave gown?  Cel. 
This is a poor one: alas, I have twenty richer: do you see these jewels? why, they are the poorest things, to those are sent me, and sent me hourly too.  Dem. 
Is there no modesty? on faith in this fair Sex?  Leo. 
What will this prove too? for yet with all my wits, I understand not.  Dem. 
Come hither; thou art dead indeed, lost tainted; all that I left thee fair, and innocent, sweet as thy youth, and carrying comfort in't; all that I hoped for virtuous, is fled from thee, turned back, and bankrupt.  Leo. 
By'r Lady, this cuts shrewdly.  Dem. 
Thou art dead, for ever dead; sins surfeit 〈◊〉 thee; the ambition of those wanton eyes betrayed thee; go from me, grave of honour; go thou foul one, thou glory of thy sin; go thou despised one, and where there is no virtue, nor no virgin; where Chastity was never known, nor heard of; where nothing reigns but impious lust, and loser faces. Go thither, child of blood, and 〈◊〉 my doting.  Cel. 
You do not speak this seriously I hope Sir; I did but jest with you.  Dem. 
Look not upon me, there is more hell in those eyes, than hell harbours; and when they flame, more torments.  Cel. 
Dare ye trust me? you durst once even with all you had: your love Sir? by this fair light I am honest.  Dem. 
Thou subtle Circe, cast not upon the maiden light eclipses: curse not the day.  Cel. 
Come, come, you shall not do this: how fain you would seem angry now, to fright me; you are not in the field among your Enemies; come, I must cool this courage.  Dem. 
Out thou impudence, thou ulcer of thy Sex; when I first saw thee, I drew into mine eyes mine own destruction, I pulled into my heart that sudden poison, that now consumes my dear content to cinders: I am not now Demetrius, thou hast changed me; thou woman, with thy thousand wiles hast changed me; thou Serpent with thy angel-eyes hast slain me; and where, before I touched on this fair ruin, I was a man, and reason made, and moved me, now one great lump of grief, I grow and wander.  Cel. 
And as you are noble, do you think I did this?  Dem. 
Put all the Devils wings on, and fly from me.  Cel. 
I will go from ye, never more to see ye. I will fly from ye, as a plague hangs o'er me; and through the progress of my life hereafter; where ever I shall sinned a fool, a false man, one that ne'er knew the worth of polished virtue; a base suspecter of a virgin's honour, a child that flings away the wealth he cried for, him will I call Demetrius: that fool Demetrius, that mad man a Demetrius; and that false man, the Prince of broken faiths, even Prince Demetrius. You think now, I should cry, and kneel down to ye, petition for my peace; let those that feel here the weight of evil, wait for such a favour, I am above your hate, as far above it, in all the actions of an innocent life, as the pure Stars are from the muddy meteors, cry when you know your folly: howl and curse then, beat that unmanly breast, that holds a false heart, when ye shall come to know, whom ye have flung from ye.  Dem. 
Pray ye stay a little.  Cel. 
Not your hopes can alter me. Then let a thousand black thoughts muster in ye, and with those enter in a thousand dote; those eyes be never shut, but drop to nothing: my innocence for ever haunt and fright ye: those arms together grow in folds; that tongue, that bold bad tongue that barks out these disgraces. When you shall come to know how nobly virtuous I have preserved my life, rot, rot within ye.  Dem. 
What shall I do?  Cel. 
Live a lost man for ever. Go ask your Father's conscience what I suffered, and through what seas of hazards I sailed through: mine honour still advanced in spite of tempests, then take your leave of love; and confess freely, you were never worthy of this heart that served ye, and so farewell ungrateful—  Exit. Dem. 
Is she gone?  Leo. 
I'll follow her, and will sinned out this matter.—  Exit. Enter Antigonus, and Lords. Ant. 
Are ye pleased now? have you got your heart again? have I restored ye that?  Dem. 
Sir even for Heaven 〈◊〉, and sacred truth 〈◊〉, tell me how ye found her.  Ant. 
I will, and in few words. Before I tried her, 'tis true, I thought her most unfit her fellowship, and feared her too: which fear begot that story I told ye first: but since, like gold I touched her.  Dem. 
And how dear Sir?  Ant. 
Heaven's holy light's not purer: the constancy and goodness of all women that ever lived, to win the names of worthy, this noble Maid has doubled in her: honour, all promises of wealth, all art to win her, and by all tongues employed, wrought as much on her as one may do upon the Sun at noon day by lighting Candles up: her shape is heavenly, and to that heavenly shape her thoughts are angels.  Dem. 
Why did you tell me Sir?  Ant. 
'Tis true, I erred in't: but since I made a full proof of her virtue, I find a King too poor a servant for her. Love her, and honour her; in all observe her. She must be something more than time yet tells her: and certain I believe him best, enjoys her: I would not lose the hope of such a Daughter, to add another Empire to my honour.—  Exit. Dem. 
O wretched state! to what end shall I turn me? and where begins my penance? now, what service will win her love again? my death must do it: and if that sacrifice can purge my follies, be pleased, O mighty Love, I die thy servant—  Exit.   

ACT V. SCENE I.  
Enter Leontius, and Celia. Leo. 
I Know he does not deserve ye; h'as used you poorly: and to redeem himself—  Cel. 
Redeem?  Leo. 
I know it— there's no way left.  Celestina: 
For Heaven's sake do not Name him, do not think on him, Sir, he's so far from me in all my thoughts now, methinks I never knew him.  Leo. 
But yet I would see him again.  Cel. 
No, never, never.  Leo. 
I do not mean to lend him any comfort; but to asslict him, so to torture him; that even his very Soul may shake within him; to make him know, though he be great and powerful, 'tis not within his aim to deal dishonourably, and carry it off, and with a Maid of your sort.  Cel. 
I must confess, I could most spitefully asslict him; now, now, I could whet my anger at him; now, armed with bitterness, I could shoot through him; I long to vex him.  Leo. 
And do it home, and bravely.  Cel. 
Were I a Man?  Leo. 
I'll help that weakness in ye: I honour ye, and serve ye.  Cel. 
Not only to disclaim me, when he had sealed his Vows in Heaven, sworn to me, and poor believing I became his servant: but most maliciously to brand my Credit, slain my poor Name.  Leo. 
I would not suffer it: see him I would again, and to his teeth too: Od's precious, I would ring him such a Lesson—  Cel. 
I have done that already.  Leo. 
Nothing, nothing: It was too poor a purge; besides, by this time he has found his fault, and feels the Hells that follow it. That, and your urged on anger to the highest, why, 'twill be such a stroke—  Cel. 
Say he repent then, and seek with tears to soften, I am a Woman; a Woman that have loved him, Sir, have honoured him: I am no more.  Leo. 
Why, you may deal thereafter.  Cel. 
If I forgive him, I am lost.  Leo. 
Hold there then, the sport will be to what a poor submission— but keep you strong.  Cel. 
I would not see him.  Leo. 
Yes, you shall ring his Knell.  Cel. 
How if I kill him?  Leo. 
Kill him? why let him die.  Cel. 
I know 'tis sit so. But why should I that loved him once, destroy him? O had he 'scaped this sin, what a brave Gentleman—  Leo. 
I must confess, had this not fallen, a nobler, a handsomer, the whole World had not showed ye: And to his making such a mind—  Cel. 
'tis certain: But all this I must now forget.  Leo. 
You shall not if I have any art: go up sweet Lady, and trust my truth.  Cel. 
But good Sir bring him not.  Leo. 
I would not for the honour ye are born to, but you shall see him, and neglect him too, and scorn him.  Cel. 
You will be near me then.  Leo. 
I will be with ye; yet there's some hope to stop this gap, I'll work hard.  [Exit.  

Scene 2.  Enter Antigonus, Menip. two Gent. Lieutenant, and Lords. Ant. 
But is it possible this Fellow took it?  2 Gent. 
It seems so by the violence it wrought with, yet now the fits even off.  Men. 
I beseech your Grace.  Ant. 
Nay, I forgive thy Wife with all my heart, and am right-glad she drank it not herself, and more glad that the virtuous Maid escaped it, I would not for the World 'thad hit: but that this Soldier, Lord how he looks, that he should take this Vomit; Can he make Rhymes too?  2 Gent. 
H'as made a thousand, Sir, and plays the burden to 'em on a Jews-trump.  Ant. 
He looks as though he were Bepissed: Do you love me Sir?  Lieu. 
Yes surely even with all my heart.  Ant. 
I thank ye; I am glad I have so good a subject: But pray ye tell me, How much did ye love me, before ye drank this matter?  Lieu. 
Even as much as a sober Man might; and a Soldier that your Grace owes just half a years pay to.  Ant. 
Well remembered; And did I seem so young and amiable to ye?  Lieu. 
Methought you were the sweetest youth—  Ant. 
That's excellent.  Lieu. 
I truly Sir: and ever as I thought on ye, I wished, and wished—  Ant. 
What didst thou wish prithee?  Lieu. 
Lv'n, that I had been a Wench of Fifteen for ye, a handsome Wench Sir.  Ant. 
Why? God a Mercy Soldier: I seem not so now to thee.  Lieu. 
Not all out: and yet I have a grudging to your Grace still.  Ant. 
Thou wast never in love before.  Lieu. 
Not with a King, and hope I shall never be again: Truly Sir, I have had such plunges, and such bicker, and as it were such run a-tilt within me, for whatsoever it was provoked me toward ye.  Ant. 
God a-mercy still  Lieu. 
I had it with a vengeance, it played his prize.  Ant. 
I would not have been a wench then, though of this age.  Lieu. 
No sure, I should have spoiled ye.  Ant. 
Well, go thy ways, of all the lusty lovers that e'er I saw— wilt have another potion?  Lieu. 
If you will be another thing, have at ye.  Ant. 
Ha, ha, ha: give me thy hand, from henceforth thou art my soldier, do bravely, I'll love thee as much.  Lieu. 
I thank ye; but if you were mine enemy, I would not wish it ye: I beseech your Grace, pay me my charge.  2 Gent. 
That's certain Sir; h'as bought up all that e'er he found was like ye, or any thing you have loved, that he could purchase; old horses, that your Grace has ridden blind, and foundered; dogs, rotten kawks, and which is more than all this, has worn your Grace's Gauntlet in his Bonnet.  Ant. 
Bring in your Bills: mine own love shall be satisfied; and sirrah, for this potion you have taken, I'll point ye out a portion ye shall live on.  Men. 
'Twas the best draught that e'er ye drunk.  Lieu. 
I hope so.  Ant. 
Are the Princes come toth' Court?  Men. 
They are all, and lodged Sir.  Ant. 
Come then, make ready for their entertainment, which presently we'll give: wait you on me Sir.  Lieu. 
I shall love drink the better whilst I live boys.   

Scene 3.  Enter Demetrius, and Leontius. Dem. 
Let me but see her, dear Leontius; let me but die before her.  Leo. 
Would that would do it: if I knew where she lay now, with what honesty, you having flung so main a mischief on her, and on so innocent and sweet a Beauty, dare I present your visit?  Dem. 
I'll repent all: and with the greatest sacrifice of sorrow, that ever Lover made.  Leo. 
'Twill be too late Sir: I know not what will become of you.  Dem. 
You can help me?  Leo. 
It may be to her sight: What are you nearer? She has Sworn she will not speak to ye, look upon ye, and to Love ye again, O she cries out, and thunders, she had rather love— there is no hope—  Dem. 
Yes 〈◊〉, there is a hope, which though it draw no Love to it, at least will draw her to lament my fortune, and that hope shall relieve me.  Leo. 
Hark ye Sir, hark ye: say I should bring ye—  Dem. 
Do not trifle with me?  Leo. 
I will not trifle; both together bring ye, you know the wrongs ye ye done.  Dem. 
I do confess 'em.  Leo. 
And if you should then jump into your fury, and have another Querk in your head.  Dem. 
I'll die first.  Leo. 
You must say nothing to her; for 'tis certain, the nature of your crime will admit to excuse.  Dem. 
I will not speak, mine eyes shall tell my Penance.  Leo. 
You must look wondrous sad too.  Dem. 
I need not look so, I am truly sadness self.  Leo. 
That look will do it: stay here, I'll bring her to you instantly: but take heed how you bear yourself: sit down there, the more humble you are, the more she'll take compassion. Women are perilous thing to deal upon.  [Exit. Dem. 
What shall become of me? to curse my fortune were but to curse my Father; that's too impious; but under whatsoever fate I suffer, bless I beseech thee, Heaven, her harmless goodness.  Enter Leontius, and Celia. Leo. 
Now arm yourself.  Cel. 
You have not brought him?  Leo. 
Yes Faith, and there he is: you see in what poor plight too, now you may do your will, kill him, or save him.  Cel. 
I will go back.  Leo. 
I will be hanged then Lady, Are ye a Coward now?  Cel. 
I cannot speak to him.  Dem. 
O me.  Leo. 
There was a Sigh to blow a Church down; So, now their eyes are fixed, the Smallshot plays, they will come toth' Battery anon.  Cel. 
He weeps extremely.  Leo. 
Rail at him now.  Cel. 
I dare not.  Leo. 
I am glad on't.  Cel. 
Nor dare believe his Tears.  Dem. 
You may, blessed Beauty, for those thick streams that troubled my Repentance, are crept out long ago.  Leo. 
You see how he looks.  Cel. 
What have I to do how he looks? How looked he then, when with a poisoned Tooth he bit mine honour? It was your Counsel too, to scorn and slight him.  Leo. 
ay, if ye saw sit cause; and you confessed too, except this sin, he was the bravest Gentleman, the sweetest, noblest. I take nothing from ye, nor from your anger; use him as you please: for to say truth, he has deserved your Justice; but still consider what he has been to you.  Cel. 
Pray do not blind me thus.  Dem. 
O Gentle Mistress, If there were any way to expiate a sin so great as mine, by intercession, by prayers, by daily tears, by dying for ye: O what a joy would close these eyes that love ye.  Leo. 
They say Women have tender hearts, I know not, I am sure mine melts.  Cel. 
Sir, I forgive ye heartily,  
And all your wrong to me I cast behind me,  
And wish ye a sit beauty to your Virtues:  
Mine is too poor, in peace I thus part from you:  
I must look back: gods keep your grace: he's here still.  [Exit. Dem. 
She has forgiven me.  Leo. 
She has directed ye: Up, up, and follow like a Man: away Sir, She looked behind her twice: her heart dwells here Sir, ye drew tears from her too: she cannot freeze thus; the Door's set open too, Are ye a Man? are ye alive? Do ye understand her meaning? Have ye blood and spirit in ye?  Dem. 
I dare not trouble her.  Leo. 
Nay, and you will be nipped i'th' head with nothing,  
Walk whining up and down; I dare not, I cannot:  
Strike now or never: faint heart, you know what Sir—  
Be governed by your fear, and quench your fire out.  
A Devil on't, stands this door open for nothing?  
So get ye together, and be naught: now to secure all,  
Will I go fetch out a more sovereign Plaster.  [Exeunt.  

Scene 4.  Enter Antigonus, Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Lieutenant, gentlemans, Lords. Ant. 
This peace is fairly made.  Seleu. 
Would your Grace wish us to put in more: take what you please, we yield it; the honour done us by your Son constrains it, your noble Son.  Ant. 
It is sufficient, Princes; and now we are one again, one mind, one body, and one sword shall strike for us.  Lys. 
Let Prince Demetrius but lead us on: for we are his vowed servants; against the strength of all the World we'll buckle.  Ptol. 
And even from all that strength we'll catch at Victory.  Sel. 
O had I now recovered but the fortune I lost in Antioch, when mine Uncle perished; but that were but to surfeit me with blessings.  Lys. 
You lost a sweet Child there.  Sel. 
Name it no more Sir; this is no time to entertain such sorrows; Will your Majesty do us the honour, we may see the Prince, and wait upon him?  Ant. 
I wonder he stays from us: [Enter Leon.  
How now Leonitus, Where's my Son?  Sel. 
Brave Captain.  Lys. 
Old valiant Sir.  Leo. 
Your Graces are welcome: your son an't please you Sir, is new cashiered yonder, cast from his Mistress favour: and such a coil there is; such fending, and such proving; she stands off, and will by no means yield to composition: he offers any price; his body to her.  Sel 
She is a hard Lady, denies that caution.  Leo. 
And now they whine, and now they rave: faith Princes, 'twere a good point of charity to piece 'em; for less than such a power will do just nothing: and if you mean to see him, there it must be, for there will he grow, till he be transplanted.  Sel. 
Beseech your grace, let's wait upon you thither, that I may see that beauty dares deny him, that scornful beauty.  Ptol. 
I should think it worse now; ill brought up beauty.  Ant. 
She has too much reason sored; which with too great a grief, I shame to think of, but we'll go see this game.  Lys. 
Rather this wonder.  Ant. 
Be you our guide Leontius, here's a new peace.  Exit.  

Scene 5.  Enter Demetrius and Celia. Cel. 
Thus far you shall persuade me, still to honour ye, still to live with ye, Sir, or near about ye; for not to lie, you have my first and last love but since you have conceived an evil against me, an evil that so much concerns your honour, that honour aimed by all at for a pattern: and though there be a false thought, and confessed too, and much repentance fallen in showers to purge it; yet, whilst that great respect I ever bore ye, dwells in my blood, and in my heart that duty; had it but been a dream, I must not touch ye.  Dem. 
O you will make some other happy?  Cel. 
Never, upon this hand I'll seal that faith.  Dem. 
We may kiss, put not those out o'th' peace too.  Cel. 
Those I'll give ye, so there you will be pleased to pitch your 〈◊〉 ultra, I will be merry with ye; sing, discourse with ye, be your poor Mistress still: in truth I love ye.  Enter Leontius, Antigonus, 〈◊〉, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Lieutenant, and Gentleman. Dem. 
Stay, who are these?  Lys. 
A very handsome Lady.  Leo. 
As 〈◊〉 you saw.  Sel. 
Pity her heart's so cruel.  Lys. 
How does your Grace? he stands still, will not hear us.  Ptol. 
We come to serve ye, Sir, in all our fortunes.  Lys. 
He bows a little now; he's strangely altered.  Sel. 
Ha? pray ye a word Leontius, pray a word with ye, Lysimachus? you both knew mine Enanthe, I lost in Antioch, when the Town was taken, mine Uncle slain, Antigonus had the sack on't?  Lys. 
Yes, I remember well the Girl.  Sel. 
Methinks now that face is wondrous like her: I have her picture, the same, but more years on her; the very same.  Lys. 
A Cherry to a Cherry is not liker.  Sel. 
Sook on her eyes.  Leo. 
Most certain she is like her: many a time have I dandled her in these arms, Sir, and I hope who will more.  Ant. 
What's that ye look at, Princes?  Sel. 
This Picture, and that Lady, Sir.  Ant. 
Ha! they are near: they only err in time.  Lys. 
Did you mark that blush there? that came the nearest.  Sel. 
I must speak to her.  Leo. 
You'll quickly be resolved.  Sel. 
Your name sweet Lady?  Cel. 
Enanthe, Sir: and this to beg your blessing.  Sel. 
Do you know me?  Cel. 
If you be the King Seleucus, I know you are my Father.  Sel. 
Peace a little, where did I lose ye?  Cel. 
At the Sack of Antioch, where my good Uncle died, and I was taken, by a mean Soldier taken: by this Prince, this noble Prince, redeemed from him again, where ever since I have remained his Servant.  Sel. 
My joys are now too full: welcome Enanthe, mine own, my dearest, and my best Enanthe.  Dem. 
And mine too desperate.  Sel. 
You shall not think so, this is a peace indeed.  Ant. 
I hope it shall be, and ask it first.  Cel. 
Most Royal Sir, ye have it.  Dem. 
I once more beg it thus.  Sel. 
You must not be denied, Sir.  Cel. 
By me, I am sure he must not: sure he shall not; kneeling I give it too; kneeling I take it; and from this hour, no envious spite ere part us.  All. 
The gods give happy joys; all comforts to ye.  Dem. 
My new Enanthe.  Ant. 
Come, beat all the Drums up, and all the noble instruments of War: let 'em sill all the Kingdom with their sounds: and those the brazen Arch of Heaven break through, while to the Temple we conduct these two.  Leo. 
May they be ever loving, ever young, and ever worthy of those lines they sprung; may their fair issues walk with time along.  〈◊〉. 
And hang a Coward now; and there's my song.  Exeunt 
FINIS.