Chapter 6

_Dem_. Thou art dead, for ever dead; sins surfeit slew thee; The ambition of those wanton eyes betrai'd thee; Go from me, grave of honour; go thou foul one, Thou glory of thy sin; go thou despis'd one, And where there is no vertue, nor no virgin; Where Chastity was never known, nor heard of; Where nothing reigns but impious lust, and looser faces. Go thither, child of bloud, and sing my doating.

_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 pull'd into my heart that sudden poyson, That now consumes my dear content to cinders: I am not now _Demetrius_, thou hast chang'd me; Thou, woman, with thy thousand wiles hast chang'd me; Thou Serpent with thy angel-eyes hast slain me; And where, before I touch'd on this fair ruine, I was a man, and reason made, and mov'd 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 flie from me.

_Cel_. I will go from ye, never more to see ye: I will flie from ye, as a plague hangs o're me; And through the progress of my life hereafter; Where ever I shall find a fool, a false man, One that ne're knew the worth of polish'd vertue; A base suspecter of a virgins honour, A child that flings away the wealth he cri'd 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 doatings; 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 vertuous I have preserv'd my life, rot, rot within ye.

_Dem_. What shall I doe?

_Cel_. Live a lost man for ever. Go ask your Fathers conscience what I suffered, And through what seas of hazards I sayl'd through: Mine honour still advanced in spight of tempests, Then take your leave of love; and confess freely, You were never worthy of this heart that serv'd ye, And so farewel ungratefull-- [_Exit._

_Dem_. Is she gone?

_Leo_. I'le follow her, and will find out this matter.-- [_Exit._

_Enter_ Antigonus, _and_ Lords.

_Ant_. Are ye pleas'd now? have you got your heart again? Have I restor'd ye that?

_Dem_. Sir even for Heaven sake, And sacred truth sake, tell me how ye found her.

_Ant_. I will, and in few words. Before I tri'd her, 'Tis true, I thought her most unfit your fellowship, And fear'd her too: which fear begot that story I told ye first: but since, like gold I toucht her.

_Dem_. And how dear Sir?

_Ant_. Heavens holy light's not purer: The constancy and goodness of all women That ever liv'd, 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 imploy'd, wrought as much on her As one may doe 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 err'd in't: But since I made a full proof of her vertue, 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 b[l]est, enjoyes her: I would not lose the hope of such a Daughter, To adde 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 doe it: And if that sacrifice can purge my follies, Be pleas'd, O mightie Love, I dye thy servant-- [_Exit._

_ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._

_Enter_ Leontius, _and_ Celia.

_Leo_. I know he do's not deserve ye; h'as us'd you poorly: And to redeem himself--

_Cel_. Redeem?

_Leo_. I know it-- There's no way left.

_Cel_. For Heavens 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 afflict him, so to torture him; That even his very Soul may shake within him: To make him know, though he be great and powerfull, '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 spightfully afflict him; Now, now, I could whet my anger at him; Now arm'd with bitterness, I could shoot through him; I long to vex him.

_Leo_. And doe it home, and bravely.

_Cel_. Were I a man!

_Leo_. I'le help that weakness in ye: I honour ye, and serve ye.

_Cel_. Not only to disclaim me, When he had seal'd his vowes in Heaven, sworn to me, And poor believing I became his servant: But most maliciously to brand my credit, Stain my pure 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 urg'd on anger to the highest, Why, 'twill be such a stroak--

_Cel_. Say he repent then, And seek with tears to soften, I am a woman; A woman that have lov'd him, Sir, have honour'd 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 dye.

_Cel_. I know 'tis fit so. But why should I that lov'd him once, destroy him? O had he scap't this sin, what a brave Gentleman--

_Leo_. I must confess, had this not faln, a nobler, A handsomer, the whole world had not show'd 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: goe 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'le work hard. [_Ex._

_SCENA II._

_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 ev'n off.

_Men_. I beseech your Grace.

_Ant_. Nay, I forgive thy wife with all my heart, And am right glad she drank it not her self, And more glad that the vertuous maid escap't it, I would not for the world 'thad hit: but that this Souldier, Lord how he looks, that he should take this vomit; Can he make rimes too?

_2 Gent_. H'as made a thousand Sir, And plaies the burthen to 'em on a Jews-trump,

_Ant_. He looks as though he were bepist: 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 Souldier That your grace owes just half a years pay to.

_Ant_. Well remembred; 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 prethee?

_Lieu_. Ev'n, that I had been a wench of fifteen for ye, A handsom wench Sir.

_Ant_. Why? God a Mercy Souldier: 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 bickrings, And as it were such runnings atilt within me, For whatsoever it was provok't me toward ye.

_Ant_. God a-mercy still.

_Lieu_. I had it with a vengeance, It plaid his prize.

_Ant_. I would not have been a wench then, Though of this age.

_Lieu_. No sure, I should have spoil'd ye.

_Ant_. Well, goe thy waies, of all the lusty lovers That e're 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 souldier, Do bravely, I'le 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; Ha's bought up all that e're he found was like ye, Or any thing you have lov'd, that he could purchase; Old horses, that your Grace has ridden blind, and foundr'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 satisfi'd; And sirrah, for this potion you have taken, I'le point ye out a portion ye shall live on.

_Men_. 'Twas the best draught that e're ye drunk.

_Lieu_. I hope so.

_Ant_. Are the Princes come to th' Court?

_Men_. They are all, and lodg'd Sir.

_Ant_. Come then, make ready for their entertainment, Which presently we'l give: wait you on me Sir.

_Lieu_. I shall love drink the better whilst I live boyes. [_Exeunt._

_SCENA III._

_Enter Demetrius, and Leontius.

_Dem_. Let me but see her, dear _Leontius_; Let me but dye before her.

_Leo_. Would that would doe it: If I knew where she lay now, with what honestie, You having flung so main a mischief on her, And on so innocent and sweet a Beauty, Dare I present your visit?

_Dem_. I'le 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 _Leontius_, 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' 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'le dye first.

_Leo_. You must say nothing to her; for 'tis certain, The nature of your crime will admit [no] 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'le bring her to you instantly: But take heed how you bear your self: sit down there, The more humble you are, the more she'l take compassion. Women are per'lous thing[s] 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 your self.

_Cel_. You have not brought him?

_Leo_. Yes faith, And there he is: you see in what poor plight too, Now you may doe your will, kill him, or save him.

_Cel_. I will goe back.

_Leo_. I will be hang'd 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 fixt, the small shot playes, They will come to th' batterie anon.

_Cel_. He weeps extreamly.

_Leo_. Rail at him now.

_Cel_. I dare not.

_Leo_. I am glad on't.

_Cel_. Nor dare believe his tears.

_Dem_. You may, blest beauty, For those thick streams that troubled my repentance, Are crept out long agoe.

_Leo_. You see how he looks.

_Cel_. What have I to doe how he looks? how lookt he then, When with a poisoned tooth he bit mine honour? It was your counsel too, to scorn and slight him.

_Leo_. I, if ye saw fit cause; and you confest 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 Mistris, 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 fit beauty to your vertues: Mine is too poor, in peace I part thus from you; I must look back: gods keep your grace: he's here still. [_Ex._

_Dem_. She has forgiven me.

_Leo_. She has directed ye: Up, up, and follow like a man: away Sir, She lookt 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 bloud and spirit in ye?

_Dem_. I dare not trouble her.

_Leo_. Nay, and you will be nip't 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 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 soveraign plaister. [_Exeunt._

_SCENA IV._

_Enter Antigonus, Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolomy, Lieutenant, Gentlemen, 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'l buckle.

_Ptol_. And even from all that strength we'l catch at victory.

_Sel_. O had I now recover'd but the fortune I lost in _Antioch_, when mine Unckle 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 the Prince, And wait upon him?

_Enter Leon._

_Ant_. I wonder he stayes from us: How now _Leontius_, where's my son?

_Sel_. Brave Captain.

_Lys_. Old valiant Sir.

_Leo_. Your Graces are welcom: Your son and't please you Sir, is new cashiered yonder, Cast from his Mistris 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 doe 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 scornfull 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. [_Ex._

_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._

THE HUMOUROUS LIEUTENANT.

(A) The First Folio. (B) The Second Folio. (C) The Manuscript dated Novemb. 27. 1625.

This MS. is a beautiful specimen of Ralph Crane's caligraphy. It is bound in vellum, with gilt lines and a gilt design on the cover. The following particulars are written on a leaf before the title-page:--

'K. Digby Margrit This Manuscript belonged to the celebrated Sir Kenelm Digby. His grand-daughter (one of the daughters & co-heiresses of his eldest son, John Digby) was married to Richard Mostyn Esq're of Penbedw in Denbighshire, & their daughter & coheiress to Richard Williams Esq., my Great Grandfather. Thro' this connection of my family with that of Digby, several of Sir Kenelm's books & Manuscripts have come into my possession. Wm W.E. Wynne. given by W.W.E. Wynne Esqre to me W. Ormsby Gore April 8. 1837.'

The title-page is as follows:--

'Demetrius and Enanthe, a pleasant Comedie written by John Fletcher gent.'

Surrounding the title are rough decorations drawn in ink in the form of corkscrew scrolls.

The following dedication is written on the leaf following the title-page:--

To the honorable Sir Kelham Digbie Knight.

Worthie Sir.

I know, that to a Man of your religious Inclination, a devine Argument would have byn much more Wellcom; And such a one (good Sir) have I upon the Anvile for you, but it requires some-what a more Consolatorie time to fashion it: Being therefore by the Wise-mans rule (That sales there is a time for all thinges) encouraged, I hope it will not be much in-oportune, after a Season so sad, to present you with a Matter Recreative. Well knowing, that you that know well how to bestow all your howers, will (in yo'r release from higher Studies) not think a litle peece of time lost, in casting, upon this Comedie, yo'r Smile, and upon him, that (in all dutie) submits it to yo'r generous Acceptaunce, your Noble Favo'r, as upon one that shall still rejoyce to be esteemed Your Commaunded Beades-man Ralph Crane. Novemb. 27. 1625.