Beaumont & Fletchers Works (2 of 10) – the Humourous Lieutenant - Beaumont Francis

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home good men, and tell your Masters from us,

      We do 'em too much honour to force from 'em

      Their barren Countries, ruin their vast Cities,

      And tell 'em out of love, we mean to leave 'em

      (Since they will needs be Kings) no more to tread on,

      Than they have able wits, and powers to manage,

      And so we shall befriend 'em. Ha! what does she there?

      Emb. This is your answer King?

      Ant. 'Tis like to prove so.

      Dem. Fie, sweet, what makes you here?

      Cel. Pray ye do not chide me.

      Dem. You do your self much wrong and me.

      I feel my fault which only was committed

      Through my dear love to you: I have not seen ye,

      And how can I live then? I have not spoke to ye—

      Dem. I know this week ye have not; I will redeem all. You are so tender now; think where you are, sweet.

      Cel. What other light have I left?

      Dem. Prethee Celia, Indeed I'le see you presently.

      Cel. I have done, Sir: You will not miss?

      Dem. By this, and this, I will not.

      Cel. 'Tis in your will and I must be obedient.

      Dem. No more of these assemblies.

      Cel. I am commanded.

      1 Ush. Room for the Lady there: Madam, my service—

      1 Gent. My Coach an't please you Lady.

      2 Ush. Room before there.

      2 Gent. The honour, Madam, but to wait upon you— My servants and my state.

      Cel. Lord, how they flock now!

      Before I was afraid they would have beat me;

      How these flies play i'th' Sun-shine! pray ye no services,

      Or if ye needs must play the Hobby-horses,

      Seek out some beauty that affects 'em: farewel,

      Nay pray ye spare: Gentlemen I am old enough

      To go alone at these years, without crutches. [Exit.

      2 Ush. Well I could curse now: but that will not help me,

      I made as sure account of this wench now, immediately,

      Do but consider how the Devil has crost me,

      Meat for my Master she cries, well—

      3 Em. Once more, Sir, We ask your resolutions: Peace or War yet?

      Dem. War, War, my noble Father.

      1 Em. Thus I fling it: And fair ey'd peace, farewel.

      Ant. You have your answer; Conduct out the Embassadours, and give 'em Convoyes.

      Dem. Tell your high hearted Masters, they shall not seek us,

      Nor cool i'th' field in expectation of us,

      We'l ease your men those marches: In their strengths,

      And full abilities of mind and courage,

      We'l find 'em out, and at their best trim buckle with 'em.

      3 Em. You will find so hot a Souldier's welcome, Sir, Your favour shall not freeze.

      2 Em. A forward Gentleman, Pity the Wars should bruise such hopes—

      Ant. Conduct em— [Ex. Em.

      Now, for this preparation: where's Leontius?

      Call him in presently: for I mean in person Gentlemen

      My self, with my old fortune—

      Dem. Royal Sir:

      Thus low I beg this honour: fame already

      Hath every where rais'd Trophies to your glory,

      And conquest now grown old, and weak with following

      The weary marches and the bloody shocks

      You daily set her in: 'tis now scarce honour

      For you that never knew to fight, but conquer,

      To sparkle such poor people: the Royal Eagle

      When she hath tri'd [h]er young ones 'gainst the Sun,

      And found 'em right; next teacheth 'em to prey,

      How to command on wing, and check below her

      Even Birds of noble plume; I am your own, Sir,

      You have found my spirit, try it now, and teach it

      To stoop whole Kingdoms: leave a little for me:

      Let not your glory be so greedy, Sir,

      To eat up all my hopes; you gave me life,

      If to that life you add not what's more lasting

      A noble name, for man, you have made a shadow:

      Bless me this day: bid me go on, and lead,

      Bid me go on, no less fear'd, than Antigonus,

      And to my maiden sword, tye fast your fortune:

      I know 'twill fight it self then: dear Sir, honour me:

      Never fair Virgin long'd so.

      Ant. Rise, and command then,

      And be as fortunate, as I expect ye:

      I love that noble will; your young companions

      Bred up and foster'd with ye, I hope Demetrius,

      You will make souldiers too: they must not leave ye.

      Enter Leontius.

      2 Gent. Never till life leave us, Sir.

      Ant. O Leontius, Here's work for you in hand.

      Leon. I am ev'n right glad, Sir. For by my troth, I am now grown old with idleness; I hear we shall abroad, Sir.

      Ant. Yes, and presently, But who think you commands now?

      Leon. Who commands, Sir?

      Methinks mine eye should guide me: can there be

      (If you your self will spare him so much honour)

      Any found out to lead before your Armies,

      So full of faith, and fire, as brave Demetrius?

      King Philips Son, at his years was an old Souldier,

      'Tis time his Fortune be o' wing, high time, Sir,

      So many idle hours, as here he loyters,

      So many ever-living names he loses,

      I hope 'tis he.

      Ant. 'Tis he indeed, and nobly

      He shall set forward: draw you all those Garrisons

      Upon the frontiers as you pass: to those

      Joyn these in pay at home, our ancient souldiers,

      And as you go press all the Provinces.

      Leo. We shall not [need];

      Believe, this hopefull Gentleman

      Can want no swords, nor honest hearts to follow him,

      We shall be full, no fear Sir.

      Ant. You Leontius,

      Because

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