Purchased with industry, and preserved with care, Forced from me in a moment!

Diph. This rough course Will never be allowed of.

Timol. O blind men!

If you refuse the first means that is offered
To give you health, no hope's left to recover
Your desperate sickness. Do you prize your
muck

Above your liberties; and rather choose
To be made bondmen, than to part with that
To which already you are slaves? Or can it
Be probable in your flattering apprehensions,
You can capitulate with the conqueror,
And keep that yours which they come to possess,
And, while you kneel in vain, will ravish from
you?

But take your own ways; brood upon your gold,
Sacrifice to your idol, and preserve
The prey entire, and merit the report
Of careful stewards: Yield a just account
To your proud masters, who with whips of iron
Will force you to give up what you conceal,

Or tear it from your throats: Adorn your walls
With Persian hangings wrought of gold and pearl;
Cover the floors on which they are to tread,
With costly Median silks; perfume the rooms
With cassia and amber, where they are
To feast and revel, while, like servile grooms,
You wait upon their trenchers; feed their eyes
With massy plate, until your cupboards crack
With the weight that they sustain; set forth
your wives

And daughters in as many varied shapes
As there are nations, to provoke their lusts,
And let them be embraced before your eyes,
The object may content you; and, to perfect
Their entertainment, offer up your sons,
And able men, for slaves; while you, that are
Unfit for labour, are spurned out to starve,
Unpitied, in some desert, no friend by,
Whose sorrow may spare one compassionate tear,
In the remembrance of what once you were.
Leost. The blood turns.

Timag. Observe how old Cleon shakes,
As if in picture he had shown him what
He was to suffer.

Cor. I am sick; the man Speaks poniards and diseases. Olymp. Oh! my doctor!

I never shall recover.

Cleora. If a virgin,

[Coming forward.
Whose speech was ever yet ushered with fear;
One knowing modesty and humble silence
To be the choicest ornaments of our sex,
In the presence of so many reverend men,
Struck dumb with terror and astonishment,
Presume to clothe her thought in vocal sounds,
Let her find pardon. First, to you, great sir!
A bashful maid's thanks, and her zealous prayers
Winged with pure innocence bearing them to
heaven,

For all prosperity that the gods can give
To one whose piety must exact their care,
Thus low I offer.

Timol. 'Tis a happy omen.

Rise, blest one, and speak boldly: On my virtue
I am thy warrant, from so clear a spring
Sweet rivers ever flow.

Cleora. Then thus to you,

My noble father, and these lords, to whom
I next owe duty; no respect forgotten
To you, my brother, and these bold young men
(Such I would have them) that are, or should be,
The city's sword and target of defence;
To all of you I speak; and if a blush
Steal on my cheeks, it is shown to reprove
Your paleness (willingly I would not say
Your cowardice or fear). Think you all treasure
Hid in the bowels of the earth, or shipwrecked
In Neptune's watry kingdom, can hold weight,
When liberty and honour fill one scale,
Triumphant justice sitting on the beam?
Or dare you but imagine that your gold is
Too dear a salary for such as hazard
Their blood and lives in your defence? For me,
An ignorant girl, bear witness, heaven! so far

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 deserve 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 ARCHIDA-
MUS'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 prepared

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.

Least. 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,

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

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 waist-
coat,

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

me

With the heat of noble action to deserve you; And the least spark of honour that took life

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 neʼer 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