 | The Humorous Lieutenant |  |
Scæne 4.
Enter Antigonus, Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolomey, Lieuten. Gent. Lords.Ant.
This peace is fairely made.
Seleu.
Would your Grace wish us
To put in more: take what you please, we yeeld it;
The honour done us by your sonne constraines it,
Your noble sonne.
Ant.
It is sufficient, Princes;
And now we are one againe, 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 wee'l buckle.
Ptol.
And even from all that strength wee'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 childe there.
Sel.
Name it no more sir;
This is no time to entertaine such sorrowes;
Wil your Majestie do us the honor, we may see the Prince,
And wait upon him?
Enter Leon.
Ant.
I wonder he stayes from us:
How now Leontius, where's my sonne?
Sel.
Brave Captaine.
Lys.
Old valiant sir.
Leo.
Your Graces are welcome:
Your sonne and't please you sir, is new casheered yonder,
Cast from his Mistris favour: and such a coile there is;
Such fending, and such proving; she stands off,
And will by no meanes yeeld to composition:
He offers any price; his body to her.
Sel.
She is a hard Lady, denies that caution.
Leo.
And now they whine, & now they rave: faith Princes,
'Twere a good point of charitie to piece 'em;
For lesse then such a power will doe just nothing:
And if you meane to see him, there it must be,
For there will he grow, till he be transplanted.
Sel.
Beseech your Grace, lets wait upon you thither,
That I may see that beauty dares deny him,
That scornfull beautie.
Ptol.
I should thinke it worse now;
Ill brought up beautie.
Ant.
She has too much reason for't;
Which with too great a grief, I shame to thinke of,
But wee'l goe see this game.
Lys.
Rather this wonder.
Ant.
Be you our guide Leontius, here's a new peace.
Ex.
| The Humorous Lieutenant | |