ACTUS QUARTUS. SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Antigonus, and Menippus.

Ant. No aptness in her?

Men. Not an immodest motion, And yet 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 ye 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 alter'd 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, I tri'd 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're bauk'd a close Arbour, And the sweet contents within: She hates curl'd 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 kiss'd her hand too, Walkt with her half an hour.

1 Gent. She heard me sing, And sung her self too; she sings admirably; But still when any hope was, as 'tis her trick To minister enough of those, then presently With some new flam or other, nothing to the 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 screws 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 Lais did; How they flock after me! upon my Conscience, I have had a dozen Horses given me this morning, I'le ev'n set up a Troop, and turn She-souldier, 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 offerings to my Excellence: I am a Queen, a Goddesse, I know not what— And no constellation in all Heaven, but I out-shine it; And they have found out now I have no eyes Of mortal lights, but certain influences, Strange vertuous 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 Princes hands be not in this sport; I have not seen him yet, cannot hear from him, And 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 lovingst Age: I should know that face, Sure I have seen't before, not long since neither.

Ant. She sees me now: O Heaven, a most rare creature!

Cel. Yes, 'tis the same: I will take no notice of ye, But if I do not fit 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 staid 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'le never look a Horse i'th' mouth that's given: I thank ye, Sir: I'le send one to reward ye.

Ant. Do you never ask who sent '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 hansomly, And not stand picking of your words.

Ant. The King sent 'em.

Cel. 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 lye, Lady.

Cel. I know thou lyest extreamly, damnably: Thou hast a lying face.

Ant. I was never thus ratled.

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 fit you know I am his servant, And have fulfil'd 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 then love's the matter; Sir-reverence love; now I begin to feel ye: And I should be the Kings 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 devilish subtil wench, but a rare spirit. (dry,

Cel. And when the good old spunge had suckt my youth And left some of his Royal aches in my bones: When time shall tell me I have plough'd my life up, And cast long furrows in my face to sink 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 Kings device; The sin's as universal as the Sun is, And lights an everlasting Torch to shame me.

Ant. Do you hold so sleight account of a great Kings favour, That all knees bow to purchase?

Cel. Prethee peace: If thou knewst how ill favouredly thy tale becomes thee, And what ill root it takes—

Ant. You will be wiser.

Cel. Could the King find 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? Prethee resolve me one thing, do's the King love thee?

Ant. I think he do's.

Cel. It seems so by thy Office: He loves thy use, and when that's ended, hates thee: Thou seemest to me a Souldier.

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 free Companion for a King? a Souldier? Whose Nobleness dare feel no want, but Enemies? Canst thou forget this, and decline so wretchedly, To eat the Bread of Bawdry, of base Bawdry? Feed on the scum of Sin? fling thy Sword from thee? Dishonour to the noble name that nursed thee? Go, beg diseases: let them be thy Armours, Thy fights, 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'l 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 breach of faith I cannot hear ye; Ye hang upon my love, like frosts on Lilies: I can dye, but I cannot love: you are answer'd.

Ant. I must find apter means, I love her truly.