Ant. Well, go thy ways. Of all the lusty lovers That e'er I saw-Wilt have another potion?

Lieut. If you will be another thing, have at you. Ant. Ha, ha, ha!

Give me thy hand; from henceforth thou'rt my Do bravely; I'll love thee as much. [soldier.

Lieut. I thank you;

But, if you were mine enemy, I would not wish it I beseech your grace, pay me my charge. [you. 2 Gent. That's certain, sir;

He has bought up all that e'er he found was like you, Or any thing you have loved, that he could purchase;

Old horses that your grace had ridden blind, and founder'd;

Dogs, rotten hawks, 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 satisfy'd;

And, sirrah, for this potion you have taken,
I'll point you out a portion you shall live on.
Men. 'Twas the best draught that e'er you
Lieut. I hope so.

Ant. Are the princes come to th' court?
Men. They are all, and lodged, sir.

[drank.

Ant. Come then, make ready for their entertainment;

Which presently we'll give.-Wait you on me, sir. Lieut. I shall love drink the better whilst I live, boys! [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-A Room in the House of CELIA.

Enter DEMETRIUS and LEONTIUS.

Dem. Let me but see her, dear Leontius;

Let me but die before her!

Leon. '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.

Leon. 'Twill be too late, sir:

I know not what will become of you.
Dem. You can help me.

Leon. It may be, to her sight: What are you nearer ?

She has sworn she will not speak to you, look upon you;

And, to love you again, oh, she cries out, and thunders,

She had rather love-There is no hope.
Dem. Yes, Leontius,

There is a hope; which, though it draw no love to
At least will draw her to lament my fortune; [it,
And that hope shall relieve me.

Leon Hark you, sir, hark you!

Say I should bring you

Dem. Do not trifle with me!

Leon. I will not trifle-both together bring youYou know the wrongs you have done?

Dem. I do confess 'em.

Leon. And if you should then jump into your

fury,

And have another quirk in your head

Dem. I'll die first!

Except this sin. he was the bravest gentleman,
The sweetest, noblest-I take nothing from you,
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.
Celia. 'Pray do not blind me thus.
Dem. Oh, 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 you,
Oh, what a joy would close these eyes that love you
Leon. They say, women have tender hearts; I
I'm sure mine melts.

[know not;

Celia. Sir, I forgive you heartily, And all your wrong to me I cast behind me, And wish you a fit beauty to your virtues : Mine is too poor. In peace I part thus from you! I must look back.-Gods keep your grace !-He's [Points to her heart, and exil

here still.

Dem. She has forgiven me.

Leon. She has directed you:

Up, up, and follow like a man; away, sir!
She look'd behind her twice. Her heart dwells

here, sir;

You drew tears from her too; she cannot freeze thus.
The door's set open too :- Are you a man?
Are you alive? do you understand her meaning?
Have you blood and spirit in you?

Dem. I dare not trouble her.

Leon. Nay, an you will be nipt i' th' head with nothing,

Walk whining up and down-"I dare not, cannot.' Strike now or never! Faint heart-you know what, sir.

Be govern'd by your fear, and quench your fire out!
A devil on't! stands this door ope for nothing?
So, get ye together, and be naught.-Now, to
secure all,

Will I go fetch out a more sovereign plaister.
[Exeunt severally.

SCENE IV.-An Apartment in the Palace. Enter ANTIGONUS, SELEUCUS, LYSIMACHUS, PTOLEMY, LIEUTENANT, Gentlemen, and Lords.

Ant. This peace is fairly made.
Sel. 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're 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 vow'd servants) Against the strength of all the world we'll buckle. Ptol. And ev'n from all that strength we'll catch at victory.

Sel. Oh, had I now recover'd but the fortune
I lost in Antioch, when mine uncle perish'd!
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
And wait upon him?

Enter LEONTIUS.

[the prince,

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. Leon. 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 for't;

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. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A Room in the House of CELIA.

Enter DEMETRIUS and CELIA.

Celia. Thus far you shall persuade me; still to
honour you,

Still to live with you, sir, or near about you;
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 aim'd by all at for a pattern;
And though there be a false thought, and confess'd
too,

And much repentance fallen in showers to purge it;
Yet, while that great respect I ever bore you,
Dwells in my blood, and in my heart that duty;
Had it but been a dream, I must not touch you.
Dem. Oh, you will make some other happy!
Celia. Never;

Upon this hand, I'll seal that faith.
Dem. We may kiss:

Put not those out o' th' peace too.
Celio. Those I'll give you,

So there you will be pleased to pitch your ne ultra ;
I will be merry with you, sing, discourse with you,
Be your poor mistress still: In truth, I love you!
Enter LEONTIUS, ANTIGONUS, SELLUCUS, LYSIMACHUS,
PTOLEMY, LIEUTENANT, and Gentlemen.
Dem. Stay! who are these?
Lys. A very handsome lady.
Leon. As e'er 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 you, sir, in all our fortunes.

Lys. He bows a little now; he's strangely alter'd.
Sel. Ha pray you a word, Leontius! pray you
a word with you,

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,
[Pulls out a picture.
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. Look on her eyes.

Leon. 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.

Sir, I must ask your patience, and be true.

This play was never liked, unless by few

And proper being; from whose equal eye And judgment nothing grows but purity.

First the infection, then the common prate

Of common people, have such customs got,
Either to silence plays, or like them not.
Under the last of which this interlude

Had fall'n for ever, prest down by the rude,
That like a torrent, which the moist south feeds,
Drowns both before him the ripe corn and weeds:
Had not the saving sense of better men
Redeem'd it from corruption. Dear sir, then,
Among the better souls, be you the best,
In whom, as in a centre, I take rest

Great in the muses, by Apollo's head,
He that adds any thing to you, 'tis done
Like his that lights a candle to the sun :
Then be, as you were ever, yourself still,
Moved by your judgment, not by love or will,
And when I sing again, (as who can tell
My next devotion to that holy well?)
Your goodness to the muses shall be all
Able to make a work heroical.

Given to your service,

JOHN FLETCHER.

SCENE I.-A Wood.

Enter CLORIN, having buried her Love in an Arbour.
Clorin. Hail, holy earth, whose cold arms do
The truest man that ever fed his flocks [embrace
By the fat plains of fruitful Thessaly!
Thus I salute thy grave; thus do I pay
My early vows and tribute of mine eyes
To thy still-loved ashes; thus I free
Myself from all ensuing heats and fires
Of love; all sports, delights, and jolly games
That shepherds hold full dear, thus put I off.
Now no more shall these smooth brows be girt
With youthful coronals, and lead the dance;
No more the company of fresh fair maids
And wanton shepherds be to me delightful,
Nor the shrill pleasing sound of merry pipes
Under some shady dell, when the cool wind
Plays on the leaves: All be far away,
Since thou art far away, by whose dear side
How often have I sat crown'd with fresh flowers
For summer's queen, whilst every shepherd's boy
Puts on his lusty green, with gaudy hook,
And hanging scrip of finest cordevan.

But thou art gone, and these are gone with thee,
And all are dead but thy dear memory;
That shall out-live thee, and shall ever spring
Whilst there are pipes, or jolly shepherds sing.
And here will I, in honour of thy love,
Dwell by thy grave, forgetting all those joys
That former times made precious to mine eyes;

Only remembering what my youth did gain
In the dark, hidden virtuous use of herbs:
That will I practise, and as freely give
All my endeavours, as I gain'd them free.
Of all green wounds I know the remedies
In men or cattle, be they stung with snakes
Or charm'd with powerful words of wicked art,
Or be they love-sick, or through too much heat
Grown wild or lunatic, their eyes or ears
Thicken'd with misty film of dulling rheum;
These I can cure, such secret virtue lies
In herbs, applied by a virgin's hand.
My meat shall be what these wild woods afford,
Berries, and chestnuts, plantanes, on whose cheeks
The sun sits smiling, and the lofty fruit [pine;
Full'd from the fair head of the straight-grown
On these I'll feed with free content and rest,
When night shall blind the world, by thy side blest.

Enter a Satyr, with a Basket of Fruit.
Sat. Through yon same bending plain
That flings his arms down to the main,
And through these thick woods, have I run,
Whose bottom never kiss'd the sun
Since the lusty spring began,
All to please my master Pan,
Have I trotted without rest
To get him fruit; for at a feast
He entertains, this coming night,
His paramour, the Syrinx bright.—
But, behold a fairer sight!

[Secing CLORDI