 | The Humorous Lieutenant |  |
Scæne 6.
Enter Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolomy, Souldiers.Sel.
Let no man feare to dye: we love to sleep all,
And death is but the sounder sleep; all ages,
And all houres call us; 'tis so common, easie,
That little children tread those paths before us;
We are not sicke, nor our soules prest with sorrows,
Nor go we out like tedious tales, forgotten;
High, high we come, and hearty to our funerals,
And as the Sun that sets, in bloud let's fall.
Lis.
'Tis true, they have us fast, we cannot scape 'em,
Nor keeps the brow of fortune one smile for us,
Dishonourable ends we can scape though,
And (worse then those, captivities) we can die,
And dying nobly, though we leave behind us
These clods of flesh, that are too massie burthens,
Our living soules flie crown'd with living conquests.
Ptol.
They have begun, fight bravely, and fall bravely;
And may that man that seekes to save his life now
By price, or promise, or by feare fals from us,
Never again be blest with name of Souldier.
Enter a Souldier
Sel.
How now? who charged first? I seek a brave hand
To set me oft in death.
Soul.
We are not charg'd sir,
The Prince lies still.
Sel.
How comes this Larum up then?
Sol.
There is one desperate fellow, with the devill in him
(He never durst do this else) has broke into us,
And here he bangs ye two or three before him,
There five or sixe; ventures upon whole companies.
Ptol.
And is not seconded?
Soul.
Not a man followes.
Sel.
Nor cut a peeces?
Soul.
Their wonder yet has staid 'em.
Sel.
Let's in, and see this miracle?
Ptol.
I admire it.
Ex.
Enter Leontius, and Gentlemen.
Leon.
Fetch him off, fetch him off; I am sure he's clouted;
Did I not tell you how 't would take?
1 Gent.
'Tis admirable.
Enter Lieutenant with colours in his hand, pursuing 3 or 4 Souldiers.
Lieu.
Follow that blow, my friend, there's at your coxcombs,
I fight to save me from the Surgeons miseries.
Leo.
How the knave curries 'em?
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You cannot rogues,
Till you have my diseases, flie my furie,
Ye bread and butter rogues, do ye run from me?
And my side would give me leave, I would so hunt ye,
Ye porredge gutted slaves, ye veale-broth boobies.
Enter Demetrius, and Phisitians, and Gentlemen.
Leo.
Enough, enough Lieutenant, thou hast done bravely.
Dem.
Mirrour of man.
Lieu.
There's a flag for ye sir,
I tooke it out o'th' shop, and never paid for't,
I'le to 'em againe, I am not come to th'text yet.
Dem.
No more my souldier: beshrew my heart he is hurt sore.
Leo.
Hang him, hee'l lick all those whole.
1 Phi.
Now will we take him,
And cure him in a trice.
Dem.
Be carefull of him.
Lieu.
Let me live but two yeares,
And doe what ye will with me;
I never had but two houres yet of happinesse;
Pray ye give me nothing to provoke my valour,
For I am ev'n as weary of this fighting—
2 Phi.
Ye shall have nothing; come to the Princes Tent
And there the Surgeons presently shall search ye,
Then to your rest.
Lieu.
A little hansome litter
To lay me in, and I shall sleepe.
Leo.
Looke to him.
Dem.
I do beleeve a horse begot this fellow,
He never knew his strength yet; they are our owne.
Leo.
I thinke so, I am cozen'd else; I would but see now
A way to fetch these off, and save their honours.
Dem.
Only their lives.
Leo.
Pray ye take no way of peace now,
Unlesse it be with infinite advantage.
Dem.
I shall be rul'd;
Let the battels now move forward,
Our selfe will give the signall:
Ent. Trumpet and Heròld.
Now Herold, what's your message?
Her.
From my Masters
This honourable courtesie, a Parley
For halfe an houre, no more sir.
Dem.
Let 'em come on,
They have my princely word.
Enter Seleucus, Lysimacus, Ptolomy, attendants, Souldiers,
Her.
They are here to attend ye.
Dem.
Now Princes, your demands?
Sel.
Peace, if it may bee
Without the too much tainture of our honour:
Peace, and wee'l buy it too.
Dem.
At what price?
Ly.
Tribute.
Ptol.
At all the charge of this war.
Leo.
That will not do.
Sel.
Leontius, you and I have serv'd together,
And run through many a fortune with our swords,
Brothers in wounds, and health; one meat has fed us,
One tent a thousand times from cold night cover'd us:
Our loves have been but one; and had we died then,
One monument had held our names, and actions:
Why do you set upon your friends such prizes?
And sacrifice to giddy chance such Trophies?
Have we forgot to dye? or are our vertues
Lesse in afflictions constant, than our fortunes?
Ye are deceiv'd old souldier.
Leo.
I know your worths,
And thus low bow in reverence to your vertues:
Were these my wars, or lead my power in chiefe here,
I knew then how to meet your memories:
They are my Kings imployments; this man fights now,
To whom I owe all dutie, faith, and service;
This man that sled before ye; call backe that,
That bloudy day againe, call that disgrace home,
And then an easie peace, may sheath our swords up.
I am not greedy of your lives and fortunes,
Nor do I gape ungratefully to swallow ye,
Honour the spur of all illustrious natures,
That made you famous Souldiers, and next Kings,
And not ambitious envy strikes me forward,
Will ye unarme, and yeild your selves his prisoners?
Sel.
We never knew what that sound meant: no gives
Shall ever bind this body, but embraces;
Nor weight of sorrow here, till earth fall on me.
Leo.
Expect our charge then.
Lys.
'Tis the nobler curtesie:
And so we leave the hand of heaven to blesse us.
Dem.
Stay, have you any hope?
Cel.
We have none left us,
But that one comfort of our deaths together;
Give us but room to fight.
Leo.
Win it, and weare it.
Ptol.
Call from the hils those companies hang ore us
Like bursting clouds; and then breake in, and take us.
Dem.
Find such a Souldier will forsake advantage,
And wee'l draw off, to shew I dare be noble,
And hang a light out to ye in this darkenesse,
The light of peace; give up those Cities, forts,
And all those frontire Countries to our uses.
Sel.
Is this the peace? traitours to those that feed us,
Our Gods and people? give our Countries from us?
Lis.
Begin the knell, it sounds a great deale sweeter.
Ptol.
Let loose your servant death.
Sel.
Fall fate upon us,
Our memories shall never stinke behind us.
Dem.
Seleucus, great Seleucus,
Sol.
The Prince cals sir.
Dem.
Thou stocke of noblenesse, and curtesie,
Thou father of the war—
Leo.
What meanes the Prince now?
Dem.
Give me my Standard here.
Lys.
His angers melted.
Dem.
You Gentlemen that were his prisoners,
And felt the bounty of that noble nature,
Lay all your hands, and beare these Colours to him,
The Standard of the Kingdome; take it souldier.
Ptol.
What will this meane?
Dem.
Thou hast won it, beare it off,
And draw thy men home whilst we waite upon thee.
Sel.
You shall have all our countries.
Lys., Ptol.
All by heaven sir.
Dem.
I will not have a stone, a bush, a bramble,
No, in the way of curtesie, I'le start ye;
Draw off, and make a lane through all the Armie,
That these that have subdu'd us, may martch through us.
Sel.
Sir, do not make me surfet with such goodnesse,
I'le beare your Srandard for ye; follow ye.
Dem.
I sweare it shall be so, martch through me fairely,
And thine be this daies honour, great Seleucus.
Ptol.
Mirrour of noble minds.
Dem.
Nay then ye hate me.
Leo.
I cannot speake now:
Ex with Drums, & Shouts.
Well, go thy wayes, at a sure peece of bravery
Thou art the best, these men are won by th'neckes now:
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| The Humorous Lieutenant | |