SCENA V.

Enter Demetrius and Celia.

Cel. Thus far you shall perswade me, still to honour ye, Still to live with ye, Sir, or near about ye; For not to lye, you have my first and last love: But since you have conceiv'd 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 confest too, And much repentance faln in showrs to purge it; Yet, whilest that great respect I ever bore ye, Dwells in my bloud, 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'le seal that faith.

Dem. We may kiss, Put not those out o'th' peace too.

Cel. Those I'le give ye, So there you will be pleas'd to pitch your ne ultra, I will be merry with ye; sing, discourse with ye, Be your poor Mistris still: in truth I love ye.

Enter Leontius, Antigonus, Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolomie, Lieutenant, and Gentleman.

Dem. Stay, who are these?

Lys. A very handsom Lady.

Leo. As e're 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 alter'd.

Sel. Ha? pray ye a word Leontius, pray ye a word with ye, Lysimachus? you bo'th 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 Chery is not liker.

Sel. Look 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, Pr[in]ces?

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 Unckle di'd, and I was taken, By a mean Souldier taken: by this Prince, This noble Prince, redeem'd from him again, Where ever since I have remain'd 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 deny'd, 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 spight e're part us.

All. The gods give happy joyes; all comforts to ye.

Dem. My new Enanthe.

Ant. Come, beat all the Drums up, And all the noble instruments of War: Let 'em fill all the Kingdom with their sound, 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.

Lieu. And hang a Coward now; and there's my song. [Exeunt.

* * * * *

Prologue.

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 Leggs we make, the place We stand in, must be one; and one the face. Nor alter'd nor exceeded; if it be, A general hisse hangs on our levitie: We have a Play, a new Play to play now, And thus low in our Playes behalf we bow; We bow to beg your suffrage, and kind ear; If it were naught, or that it might appear, A thing buoy'd up by prayer, Gentlemen, Believe my faith, you should not see me then. Let them speak then have power to stop a storm: I never lov'd to feel a House so warm: But for the Play if you dare credit me, I think it well: All new things you shall see, And these disposed to all the mirth that may; And short enough we hope: and such a Play You were wont to like: sit nobly then, and see: If it miscarry, pray look not for me.

* * * * *

Epilogue, Spoke by the Lieutenant.

I am not cur'd yet throughly; for believe I feel another passion that may grieve, All over me I feel it too: and now It takes me cold, cold, cold, I know not how: As you are good men help me, a Carowse May make me love you all, all here i'th' house, And all that come to see me doatingly; Now lend your hands; and for your courtesie, The next imployment I am sent upon, I'le swear you are Physicians, the War's none.