Enter HUBERT, with JACULIN, GINKS, and COSTIN.
Wol. Who are these, Hempskirke?
Hemp. More, more, sir.

Flo. How they triumph in their treachery!

Hemp. Lord Arnold of Benthuisen, this lord Costin,

This Jaculin the sister unto Florez.

Wol. All found? Why, here's brave game; this was sport-royal,

And puts me in thought of a new kind of death for 'em.

Huntsman, your horn! First, wind me Florez' fall;

Next, Gerrard's; then, his daughter Jaculin's. Those rascals, they shall die without their rights. Hang 'em, Hempskirke, on these trees. I'll take Th' assay of these myself.

Hub. Not here, my lord;

Let 'em be broken up upon a scaffold;

'Twill shew the better when their arbour's made.

Ger. Wretch, art thou not content thou hast But mock'st us too?

[betray'd us,

Prigg. The rest too, that escap'd, Are not yet out o' th' briars.

Hig. And your horses, sir,

Are well set up in Bruges all by this time.
You look as you were not well, sir, and would be
Shortly let blood: Do you want a scarf?
Van. A halter !

Ger. 'Twas like yourself, honest, and noble
Hubert!-

Canst thou behold these mirrors altogether,
Of thy long, false, and bloody usurpation,
Thy tyrannous proscription, and fresh treason;
And not so see thyself, as to fall down,
And sinking force a grave, with thine own guilt,
As deep as hell, to cover thee and it?

Wol. No, I can stand, and praise the toils that took me ;

And laughing in them die: They were brave snares!

Flo. 'Twere truer valour, if thou durst repent The wrongs thou hast done, and live.

Wol. Who? I repent,

Here be friends asked to be looked on too,
And thank'd; who, tho' their trade and course of
Be not so perfect but it may be better'd, [life
Have yet us'd me with courtesy, and been true
Subjects unto me, while I was their king;
A place I know not well how to resign,
Nor unto whom. But this I will entreat
Your grace; command them follow me to Bruges;
Where I will take the care on me to find
Some manly, and more profitable course,
To fit them as a part of the republic.

'WOULD some man would instruct me what to say;
For this same prologue, usual to a play,
Is tied to such an old form of petition,
Men must say nothing now beyond commission;
The cloaks we wear, the legs we make, the place
We stand in must be one; and one the face.
Nor alter'd, nor exceeded; if it be,
A general hiss hangs on our levity.
We have a play, a new play, to play now,
And thus low in our play's behalf we bow:
We bow to beg your suffrage and kind ear.
If it were naught, or that it might appear

SCENE I.-The CAPITAL.-The AudienceChamber in the Palace.

Enter Two Ushers and Grooms with perfumes.

1 Usher. Round, round, pertume it round!! quick! Look ye diligently

The state be right! Are these the richest cushions? Fy, fy who waits i' the wardrobe?

2 Usher. But, pray tell me,

Do you think for certain these ambassadors
Shall have this morning audience?

1 Usher. They shall have it!

Lord, that you five at court, and understand not!

I tell you they must have it.

2 Usher. Upon what necessity?

1 Usher. Still you are off the trick of court Sell your place,

And sow your grounds; you are not for this tillage, (Make all things perfect :) would you have these ladies,

Enter Lacies and Gentlemen.

They that come here to see the show, these beauties,
That have been labouring to set off their sweetness,
And wash'd and curl'd, perfum'd, and taken glis-
For fear a flaw of wind might overtake 'em, [ters,
Lose these, and all their expectations?
Madams, the best way is the upper lodgings;
There you may see at ease.

Ladies. We thank you, sir.

[Exeunt Ladies and Gentlemen

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-

2 Usher. What's your business ?——

Who keeps the outward door there? Here's fine You waistcoateer! you must go back. [shuffling! Celia. 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 Usher. 'Death, she's mad!

Celia. And were yourself an honest man- -It

Celia. An ass, sir! You bray as like one, And, by my troth, methinks, as you 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 ever any of that butter stick to your bread2 Usher. You must be modester.

Celia. Let him use me nobler,

And wear good clothes to do good offices;
They hang upon a fellow of his virtue,
As though they hung on gibbets.

2 Usher. A perilous wench!

1 Usher. Thrust her into a corner; I'll no more on her.

2 Usher. You have enough.-Go, pretty maid,

stand close,

And use that little tongue with a little more temper. Celia. I thank you, sir.

2 Usher. When the shows are past, I'll have you into the cellar; there we'll dine,-(A very pretty wench, a witty rogue!)— And there we'll be as merry!-Can you be merry? Celia. Oh, very merry.

2 Usher. Only ourselves,

This churlish fellow shall not know.
Celia. By no means.

2 Usher. And can you love a little?
Celia. Love exceedingly:

I have cause to love you, dear sir.
2 Usher. Then I'll carry you,

And shew you all the pictures, and the hangings,
The lodgings, gardens, and the walks: and then,
You shall tell me where you lie.
[sweet,

Celia. Yes, marry, will I.

2 Usher. And't shall go hard but I'll send you a venison pasty,

And bring a bottle of wine along.

1 Usher. Make room there!

2 Usher. Room there afore!-Stand close; the train is coming.

Enter ANTIGONUS, TIMON, CHARINTHUS, and MENIPPUS. Celia. 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 Usher. Make room there!

Ant. They shall not long wait answer. [Flourish. Celia. Yet he comes not!

And, from their equal shares, from Alexander
Parted, and so possess'd, not like a brother,
But as an open enemy, you have hedged in
Whole provinces; mann'd and maintain'd these
injuries;

And duly with your sword, though they still honour you,

Make bloody roads, take towns, and ruin castles; And still their sufferance feels the weight.

2 Amb. We therefore,

As yet the ministers of peace, of friendship,
As yet our masters' swords and angers sleeping,
All former injuries forgot and buried,
As yet to stop that swelling tide of blood,
(O mighty sir,) that when it comes like tempests
Broke from the raging north, beats all before 'em,
We yet crave restitution of those lands,
Those cities sack'd, those prisoners, and that prey
The soldiers, by your will, stand master of.
Think of that love, great sir, that honour'd
friendship,

Yourself held 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

angers,

Like so many brother billows, rose together,
And, curling up your foaming crests, defied
Even mighty kings, and in their falls entomb'd 'em.
Oh, think of these! and you that have been con-
That ever led your fortunes open-eyed, [querors,
Chain'd 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!

3 Amb. Chuse which you will, or peace or war; (though rather

I could afford your age so much discretion
To leave off brawling now); the wars are doubtful,
And on our horsemen's staves death looks as grimly
As on your keen-edg'd swords; our darts sure

pointed,

And from our sinewy bows we can raise showers
Of bloody shafts, shall hide the face of heaven,
And cast as deep eclipses o'er the day,
And terrible as yours: our strengths are equal;
Our hopes as high and wanton; even our men
The same in labours and in sufferance;
Hunger they dare contemn as well as yours,
And where they find no meat, feed on their angers ;
March on the edge of danger; rest and sleep,
(The souls of soft and tender bodies,) they
Shake off as well as yours; and when tired nature
Locks up their spirits, yet, like storms far off,
Even in their rest, they raise a warlike murmur.
We come prepared for either.

Enter DEMETRIUS, with a javelin, and Gentlemen. 1 Usher. Room for the prince there! Celia. Was it the prince they said? How my heart trembled !

"Tis he, indeed! What a sweet noble fierceness
Dwells in his eyes! Young Meleager-like,
When he return'd from the slaughter of the boar,
Crown'd 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!

You that bring thunders in your mouths, and earthquakes,

To shake and totter my designs? Can you imagine,
You men of poor and common apprehensions,
While I admit this man my son, this nature,
That in one look carries more fire, and fierceness,
Than 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 hatch'd 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. Oh, Hercules !

Who says you do, sir? Is there any thing
In these men's faces, or their masters' actions,
Able to work such wonders?

Celia. Now he speaks!

Oh, I could dwell upon that tongue for ever! Dem. You call 'em kings: They never wore those royalties;

'em :

Nor in the progress of their lives arrived yet
At any thought of king: Imperial dignities,
And powerful godlike actions, fit for princes,
They can no more put on, and make 'em sit right,
Than I can with this mortal hand hold Heaven.
Poor petty men! Nor have I yet forgot,
The chiefest honours time and merit gave
Lysimachus, your master, at his best,
His highest, and his hopeful'st 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

Celia. What a brave confidence flows from his spirit!

Oh, sweet young man!

Dem. Must these hold pace with us,
And on the same file 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 from 'em
Their barren countries, ruin their waste cities;
And tell 'em, out of love, we mean to leave 'em,
Since they will needs be kings, no more to tread

Celia. 'Pray you, do not chide me.
Dem. You do yourself much wrong, and me.
Celia. 'Pray you, pardon me?

I feel my fault, which only was committed
Through my dear love to you. I have not seen you,