Fifty comedies and tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen ; all in one volume, published by the authors original copies, the songs to each play being added.

SCENE V.

Enter Geta, Guard, Souldiers.

Get.

I'll swear the Peace against 'em, I am hurt, Run for a Surgeon, or I faint.

1 Guard.

Bear up, man, 'Tis but a scratch.

Get.

Scoring a man o'r the Coxcomb Is but a scratch with you! —o' your occupation,

Your scurvy scuffling trade; I was told before My face was had enough; but now I look Like bloody Bone, and raw head, to fright Children; I am for no use else.

2 Guard.

Thou shalt fright men.

1 Guard.

You look so terrible now; but see your face In the Pummel of my Sword.

Get.

I dye, I am gone. Oh my sweet physiognomy.

Enter three Persians.

2 Guard.

They come, Now fight, or dye indeed.

Get.

I will 'scape this way; I cannot hold my Sword; what would you have Of a maim'd man?

1 Guard.

Nay, then I have a goad To prick you forward, Oxe.

2 Guard.

Fight like a Man, Or dye like a Dog.

Get.

Shall I, like Caesar, fall Among my friends? no mercy? Et tu Brute? You shall not have the honour of my death, I'll fall by the Enemy first.

1 Guard.

O brave, brave Geta,

Persians driven off.

He plays the Devil now.

Enter Niger.

Nig.

Make up for honour, The Persians shrink. The passage is laid open, Great Dioclesian, like a second Mars, His strong arm govern'd by the fierce Bellona, Performs more than a man; his shield struck full Of Persian Darts, which now are his defence Against the Enemies Swords, still leads the way. Of all the Persian Forces, one strong Squadron,

Alarm's continued.

In which Cosroe in his own person fights, Stands firm, and yet unrouted; Break thorow that, The day, and all is ours.

Retreat.

All.

Victory, Victory.

Exeunt. Flourish.