The humorous lieutenant, or, Generous enemies a comedy as it is now acted by His Majesties servants, at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.

Scaene 6.

Enter Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolomy, Souldiers.

Sel.

Let no man fear to dye: we love to sleep all, And death is but the sounder sleep; all ages, And all hours call us; 'tis so common, easie, That little children tread those paths before us; We are not sick, nor our souls 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 blood 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 dye, And dying nobly, though we leave behind us These clods of flesh, that are too massie burthens, Our living souls flie crown'd with living conquests

Ptol.

They have begun, fight bravely, and fall bravely; And may that man that seeks to save his life now By price, or promise, or by fear falls 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 off in death.

Soul.

We are not charg'd Sir, the Prince lies still.

Sel.

How comes this Larum up then?

Soul.

There is one desperate fellow, with the devil 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 six; ventures upon whole companies.

Ptol.

And is not seconded?

Soul.

Not a man follows.

Sel.

Nor cut a peeces?

Soul.

Their wonder yet has staid 'em.

Sel.

Let's in, and see this miracle?

Ptol.

I admire it.

Exit.

Enter Leontius and Gentlemen.

Leon.

Fetch him off, fetch him off, I am sure he's clouted; Did I not tell you how 'twould 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

Lieu.

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 Physitians, and Gent.

Leo.

Enough, enough Lieutenant, thou hast done bravely.

Dem.

Mirrour of man.

Lieu.

There's a flag for ye Sir, I took it out o'th' shop, and never paid for't, I'll to 'em again, I am not come to th' text yet.

Dem.

No more my souldier: beshrew my heart he is hurt sore.

Leo.

Hang him, he'll lick all those whole.

2 Phi.

Now will we take him, And cure him in a trice.

Dem.

Be careful of him.

Lieu.

Let me live but two years, And do what ye will with me; I never had but two hours yet of happiness; 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 sleep.

Leo.

Look to him.

Dem.

I do believe a Horse begot this Fellow, He never knew his strength yet; they are our own.

Leo.

I think 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, Unless it be with infinite advantage.

Dem.

I shall be rul'd;

Enter Trumpet and Herold.

Let the Battels now move forward, Our self will give the Signal: Now Herold, What's your Message?

Her.

From my Masters This honourable courtesie, a Parley For half an hour, no more Sir.

Dem.

Let 'em come on, They have my Princely word.

Enter Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolomy, Attendants, Souldiers.

Her.

They are here to attend ye.

Dem.

Now Princes, your demands?

Sel.

Peace, if it may be 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 Less in Afflictions constant, than our Fortunes? Ye are deceiv'd old Soldier.

Leo.

I know your worths, And thus low bow in reverence to your Vertues: Were these my Wars, or lead my power in chief here, I knew then how to meet your Memories:

They are my Kings imployments; this Man sights now To whom I owe all duty, faith, and service; This man that fled before ye; call back that, That bloody day again, call that disgrace home, And then an easiy 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 unarm, and yield your selves his prisoners?

Sel.

We never knew what that sound ment: 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 courtesie: And so we leave the hand of heaven to bless 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 wear it.

Ptol.

Call from the hills those companies hang ore us Like bursting clouds; and then break in, and take us.

Dem.

Find such a Souldier will forsake advantage, And we'll draw off, to shew I dare be noble, And hang a light out to ye in this darkness, The light of peace; give up those Cities, forts, And all those frontire Countryes to our uses.

Sel.

Is this the peace? traitours to those that feed us, Our Gods and people? give our Countryes from us?

Lys.

Begin the knell, it sounds a great deal sweeter.

Ptol.

Let loose your servant death.

Sel.

Fall fate upon us, Our memories shall never stink behind us.

Dem.

Seleucus, great Selcucus.

Ptol.

The Prince calls Sir.

Dem.

Thou stock of nobleness, and curtesie, Thou father of the War—

Leo.

What means 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 bear these Colours to him, The Standard of the Kingdom; take it Soldier.

Ptol.

What will this mean?

Dem.

Thou hast won it, bear it off, And draw thy Men home whilst we wait upon thee.

Sel.

You shall have all our Countries.

Lys.

Ptol. All by Heaven Sir.

Dem.

I will not have a Stone, a Brush, a Bramble, No, in the way of curtesie, I'll start ye; Draw off, and make a Lane through all the Army, That these that have subdu'd us, may March through us.

Sel.

Sir, do not make me surset with such goodness, I'll bear your Standard for ye; follow ye.

Dem.

I Swear it shall be so, March through me fairly, And thine be this days honour, great Seleucus.

Ptol.

Mirrour of noble Minds.

Dem.

Nay then ye hate me.

Leo.

I cannot speak now:

Ex. with Drums and Shouts.

Well, go thy wayes, at a sure piece of bravery Thou art the best, these Men are won by th' necks now: I'll send a Post away.