I prize a soldier, that, to give him pay,
With such devotion as our Flamens offer
Their sacrifices at the holy altar,

I do lay down these jewels, will make sale
Of my superfluous wardrobe, to supply
The meanest of their wants.

Timol. Brave masculine spirit!

Diph. We are shown, to our shame, what we in honour

Should have taught others.

Arch. Such a fair example Must needs be followed.

Timag. Ever my dear sister, But now our family's glory.

Leost. Were she deformed,

The virtues of her mind would force a stoick To sue to be her servant.

Cleon. I must yield;

And, though my heart-blood part with it, I will Deliver in my wealth.

Asot. I would say something;

But, the truth is, I know not what.

Timol. We have money;

And men must now be thought on.

Arch. We can press

Of labourers in the country (men inured
To cold and heat) ten thousand.
Diph. Or, if need be,

Inrol our slaves, lusty and able varlets,
And fit for service.

Cleon. They shall go for me;

I will not pay and fight too.

Cleora. How! your slaves?

O stain of honour! Once more, sir, your pardon;
And to their shames let me deliver what
I know in justice you may speak.
Timol. Most gladly:

I could not wish my thoughts a better organ
Than your tongue to express them.

Cleora. Are you men?

(For age may qualify, though not excuse,

The backwardness of these) able young men ?
Yet, now your country's liberty's at the stake;
Honour and glorious triumph made the garland
For such as dare deserye them; a rich feast
Prepared by Victory, of immortal viands,
Not for base men, but such as with their swords
Dare force admittance, and will be her guests;
And can you coldly suffer such rewards
To be proposed to labourers and slaves?
While you, that are born noble (to whom these,
Valued at their best rate, are next to horses,
Or other beasts of carriage) cry aim!
Like idle lookers on, till their proud worth
Make them become your masters?

Timol. By my hopes,

There's fire and spirit enough in this to make Thersites valiant.

Cleora. No; far, far be it from you: Let these of meaner quality contend, Who can endure most labour; plow the earth, And think they are rewarded when their sweat Brings home a fruitful harvest to their lords; Let them prove good artificers, and serve you For use and ornament; but not presume

To touch at what is noble; if you think them
Unworthy to taste of those cates you feed on,
Or wear such costly garments, will you grant
them

The privilege and prerogative of great minds,
Which you were born to? Honour won in war,
And to be styled preservers of their country,
Are titles fit for free and generous spirits,
And not for bondmen. Had I been born a
man,

And such ne'er-dying glories made the prize
To bold heroic courage, by Diana,

I would not to my brother, nay, my father,
Be bribed to part with the least piece of honour
I should gain in this action.

Timol. She's inspired,

Or in her speaks the genius of your country,
To fire your blood in her defence: I am rapped
With the imagination.-Noble maid,
Timoleon is your soldier, and will sweat
Drops of his best blood, but he will bring home
Triumphant conquest to you. Let me wear
Your colours, lady; and, though youthful heats,
That look no farther than your outward form,
Are long since buried in me, while I live,

I am a constant lover of your mind,

That does transcend all precedents. Cleora. 'Tis an honour,

And so I do receive it.

Cor. Plague upon it!

[Gives her scarf.

She has got the start of us: I could even burst With envy at her fortune.

Olym. A raw young thing!

We've too much tongue sometimes, our husbands

Old Cleon, fat and unwieldy; I shall never
Make a good soldier, and therefore desire
To be excused at home.

Aso. 'Tis my suit too:

I am a gristle, and these spider fingers
Will never hold a sword. Let us alone

To rule the slaves at home, I can so yerk them;
But in my conscience I shall never prove
Good justice in the war.

Timol. Have your desires;

You would be burdens to us, no way aids.-
Lead, fairest, to the temple; first we'll pay
A sacrifice to the gods for good success:
For all great actions the wished course do run,
That are, with their allowance, well begun.
[Exeunt all but the slaves.
Pis. Stay, Cimbrio and Gracculo.
Cimb. The business?

If you dare second me. Cimb. We'll not fail.

Grac. A cart-rope

Shall not bind me at home.
Pis. Think on't and prosper.,

[Exeunt.

■ SCENE I.-The same. A Room in ARCHIDAMUS'S House.

Enter ARCHIDAMUS, TIMAGORAS, LEOSTHE-
NES, with gorgets, and PISANDER.
Arch. So, so, 'tis well: How do I look?
Pis. Most sprightfully.

Arch. I shrink not in the shoulders; though
I'm old.

I'm tough; steel to the back: I have not wasted My stock of strength in feather beds. Here's an arm too;

There's stuff in't, and I hope will use a sword As well as any beardless boy of you all.

Timag. I'm glad to see you, sir, so well pre-
pared

To endure the travail of the war.
Arch. Go to, sirrah!

I shall endure, when some of you keep your cabins,

For all your flaunting feathers. Nay, Leosthe

nes,

You're welcome too, all friends and fellows now. Leost. Your servant, sir.

Arch. Pish! leave these compliments,
They stink in a soldier's mouth; I could be merry,
For, now my gown's off, farewel gravity!
And must be bold to put a question to you,
Without offence, I hope.

Leost. Sir, what you please.
Arch. And you will answer truly?
Timag. On our words, sir.

Arch. Go to, then; I presume you will con-
fess

That you are two notorious whoremasters.
Nay, spare your blushing, I've been wild myself,
A smack or so for physic does no harm;
Nay, it is physic if used moderately:
But to lie at rack and manger-
Leost. Say we grant this,

(For if we should deny it you'll not believe us) What will you infer upon it?

Arch. What you'll groan for,

I fear, when you come to the test. Old stories

tell us,

There's a month called October, which brings in Cold weather; there are trenches too, 'tis rumoured,

In which to stand all night to the knees in water, In gallants breeds the toothach; there's a sport too,

Named lying perdue, do you mark me? 'tis a game, VOL. I.

Which you must learn to play at; now in these

seasons,

And choice variety of exercises,

(Nay, I come to you,) and fasts, not for devotion, Your rambling hunt-smock feels strange alterations;

And in a frosty morning looks as if
He could with ease creep in a pottle-pot,
Instead of his mistress' placket. Then he curses
The time he spent in midnight visitations,
And finds what he superfluously parted with,
To be reported good at length, and well breath'd,
If but retrieved into his back again,

Would keep him warmer then a scarlet waistcoat,

Or an armour lined with fur

Enter DIPHILUS and CLEORA.

O welcome, welcome!

You've cut off my discourse, but I will perfect My lecture in the camp.

Diph. Come, we are stayed for; The general's afire for a remove, And longs to be in action.

Arch. 'Tis my wish too."

We must part. Nay, no tears, my best Cleora;
I shall melt too, and that were ominous.
Millions of blessings on thee! All that's mine
I give up to thy charge; and, sirrah, look

[TO PISANDER. You with that care and reverence observe her, As you would pay to me. A kiss; farewell, girl! Diph. Peace wait upon you, fair one! [Exeunt ARCH. DIPH. and PIS. Timag. 'Twere impertinence

To wish you to be careful of your honour,
That ever keep in pay a guard about you
Of faithful virtues. Farewell: friend, I leave you
To wipe our kisses off; I know that lovers
Part with more circumstance and ceremony;
Which I give way to.
[Exit TIMAG.

Leost. "Tis a noble favour,

For which I ever owe you. We're alone:
But how I should begin, or in what language
Speak the unwilling word of parting from you,
I'm yet to learn.

Cleora. And still continue ignorant;
For I must be most cruel to myself,
If I should teach you.

Leost. Yet it must be spoken,

Or you will chide my slackness: You have fired

cherished,

Must mount up in a glorious flame, or I
Am much unworthy.

Cleora. May it yet burn here,

And, as a sea-mark, serve to guide true lovers (Tossed on the ocean of luxurious wishes) Safe from the rocks of lust, into the harbour Of pure affection! rising up an example Which after-times shall witness to our glory, First took from us beginning!

Leost. 'Tis a happiness

My duty to my country, and mine honour,
Cannot consent to; besides, add to these,
It was your pleasure, fortified by persuasion,
And strength of reason, for the general good,
That I should go.

Cleora. Alas! I then was witty

To plead against myself; and mine eye, fixed
Upon the hill of honour, ne'er descended
To look into the vale of certain dangers,

Leost. You were never proved.

For me, I have conversed with you no farther Than would become a brother. I ne'er tuned Loose notes to your chaste ears; or brought rich presents

For my artillery, to batter down

The fortress of your honour; nor endeavoured
To make your blood run high at solemn feasts,
With viands that provoke; the speeding philtres:
I worked no bawds to tempt you; never practised
The cunning and corrupting arts they study,
That wander in the wild maze of desire;
Honest simplicity and truth were all

The agents I employed; and when I came
To see you, it was with that reverence
As I beheld the altars of the gods;

And Love, that came along with me, was taught
To leave his arrows, and his torch behind,
Quenched in my fear to give offence.

Cleora. And 'twas

Leost. I'll stay at home, then.

Cleora. No, that must not be;

For so, to serve my own ends, and to gain
A petty wreath myself, I rob you of

A certain triumph, which must fall upon you,
Or Virtue's turned a hand-maid to blind Fortune.
How is my soul divided! to confirm you
In the opinion of the world most worthy
To be beloved (with me you're at the height,
And can advance no farther,) I must send you
To court the goddess of stern war, who, if
She see you with my eyes, will ne'er return you,
But grow enamoured of you.

Leost. Sweet, take comfort!

And what I offer you, you must vouchsafe me, Or I am wretched: All the dangers that

I can encounter in the war are trifles;

My enemies abroad to be contemned;

Like a fresh rose, in mine own natural sweetness; Which, sullied with the touch of impure hands, Loses both scent and beauty.

Leost. But, Cleora,

When I am absent, as I must go from you,
(Such is the cruelty of my fate,) and leave you,
Unguarded, to the violent assaults

Of loose temptations; when the memory
Of my so many years of love and service
Is lost in other objects; when you are courted
By such as keep a catalogue of their conquests
Won upon credulous virgins; when nor father
Is here to owe you, brother to advise you,
Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off,
By lust instructed how to undermine

And blow your chastity up; when your weak

senses,

At once assaulted, shall conspire against you,

I leave at home with you.

Cleora. With me?

Leost. Nay, in you,

In every part about you; they are armed

To fight against me.

Cleora. Where?

Leost. There's no perfection

That you are mistress of, but musters up
A legion against me, and all sworn
To my destruction.

Cleora. This is strange!

Leost. But true, sweet:

Excess of love can work such miracles.
Upon this ivory forehead are intrenched
Ten thousand rivals, and these suns command
Supplies from all the world, on pain to forfeit
Their comfortable beams; these ruby lips,
A rich exchequer to assure their pay;
This hand, Sibylla's golden bough to guard them
Through hell and horror to the Elysian springs;
Which who'll not venture for? and, should I name
Such as the virtues of your mind invite,
Their numbers would be infinite.

Cleora. Can you think

How can you stand? 'Faith, though you fall, and I The judge, before whom you then stood accused, I should acquit you.

Cleora. Will you then confirm

That love and jealousy, though of different na

tures,

Must of necessity be twins; the younger
Created only to defeat the elder,

And spoil him of his birthright? 'tis not well.
But being to part, I will not chide, I will not;
Nor with one syllable or tear, express
How deeply I am wounded with the arrows
Of your distrust: But when that you shall hear,
At your return, how I have borne myself,
And what an austere penance I take on me,
To satisfy your doubts; when, like a vestal,
I shew you, to your shame, the fire still burning,
Committed to my charge by true affection,
The people joining with you in the wonder;
When, by the glorious splendour of my sufferings,
The prying eyes of jealousy are struck blind,
The monster, too, that feeds on fears, even starved
For want of seeming matter to accuse me,
Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp reproof

You are to enter, and, as you pass by, Salute my woman; be but bold enough, You'll speed, I warrant you. Begin.

Asot. Have at it

Save thee, sweet heart! a kiss.

Zant. Venus forbid, sir,

I should presume to taste your honour's lips
Before my lady.

Coris. This is well on both parts.
Asot. How does thy lady?

Zant. Happy in your lordship,

As oft as she thinks on you.

Coris. Very good:

This wench will learn in time.
Asot. Does she think of me?

Zant. O sir! and speaks the best of you; admires

Your wit, your clothes, discourse; and swears,

but that

Asot. 'Slid, she's angry.

Zant. No, no, sir, she but seems so. To her again. Asot. Lady, I will descend to kiss your hand, But that 'tis gloved, and civet makes me sick; And to presume to taste your lip 's not safe, Your woman by.

Coris. I hope she's no observer

Of whom I grace. [ZANTHIA looks on a book. Asot. She's at her book, O rare! [Kisses her. Coris. A kiss for entertainment is sufficient; Too much of one dish cloys me.

Asot. I would serve in

The second course; but still I fear your woman. Coris. You are very cautelous.

[ZANTHIA seems to sleep.

Asot. 'Slight, she's asleep!

'Tis pity these instructions are not printed;
They would sell well to chamber-maids. 'Tis no
time now

To play with my good fortune, and your favour;
Yet to be taken, as they say:-a scout,
To give the signal when the enemy comes,

[Exit ZANTHIA.

Were now worth gold.-She's gone to watch.
A waiter so trained up were worth a million
To a wanton city madam.

Coris. You are grown conceited.

Asot. You teach me. Lady, now your cabi

net

Now we've begun, let's end the act.
Coris. Forbear, sir;

Your father's wife!

Asot. Why, being his heir, I am bound, Since he can make no satisfaction to you, To see his debts paid.

Enter ZANTHIA running.

Zant. Madam, my lord!

Coris. Fall off;

I must trifle with the time too; hell confound it! Asot. Plague on his toothless chaps! he cannot

do't

Himself, yet hinders such as have good stomachs.

Enter CLEON.

Cleon. Where are you, wife? I would fain go abroad,

But cannot find my slaves that bear my litter; I am tired. Your shoulder, son;-nay, sweet, thy hand too;

A turn or two in the garden, and then to supper, and so to bed.

Asot. Never to rise, I hope, more. [Exeunt,