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

1 Emb. Then thus, Sir:
In all our Royal Masters names, We tell you,
Ye have done injustice, broke the bonds of concord,
And from their equal shares, from Alexander
Parted, and so possess'd, not like a Brother,
But as an open Enemy, Ye have hedged in
Whole Provinces, man'd and maintain'd these injuries;
And daily with your sword (though they still honour ye)
Make bloudy inroads, take Towns, and ruin Castles,
And still their sufFerance feels the weight.

2 Em. Think of that love, great Sir, that honor'd friendship
Your self held with our Masters, think of that strength
When you were all one body, all one mind;
When all your swords struck one way, when your angers,
Like so many brother Billows rose together,
And curling up your foaming Crests, defied
Even mighty Kings, and in their falls entomb'd 'em;
O think of these; and you that have been Conquerours,
That ever led your Fortunes open ey'd,
Chain'd fast by confidence; you that fame courted,
Now ye want Enemies and men to match ye,
Let not your own Swords seek your ends to shame ye.

1 Ush. Room for the Prince there.

Cel. Was it the Prince they said? how my heart trembled!
'Tis he indeed; what a sweet noble fierceness
Dwells in his eyes! young Meleager like,
When he return'd from slaughter of the Boar,
Crown'd with the loves and honours of the people,
With all the gallant youth of Greece , he looks now,
Who could deny him love?

Dem. Hail Royal Father.

Ant. Ye are welcome from your sport, Sir, do you see this Gent.
You that bring Thunders in your mouths, and Earthquakes
To shake and totter my designs? can you imagine
(You men of poor and common apprehensions)
While I admit this man, my Son, this nature
That in one look carries more fire, and fierceness,
Than all your Masters in their lives; dare I admit him,
Admit him thus, even to my side, my bosom,
When he is fit to rule, when all men cry him,
And all hopes hang about his head; thus place him,
His weapon hatched in bloud, all these attending
When he shall make their fortunes, all as sudden
In any expedition he shall point 'em,
As arrows from a Tartars bow, and speeding,
Dare I do this, and fear an enemy?
Fear your great Master? yours? or yours?

Dem. O Hercules !
Who saies you do, Sir? Is there any thing
In these mens faces, or their Masters actions,
Able to work such wonders?

Cel. Now he speaks: O I could dwell upon that tongue for ever.

Dem. You call 'em Kings, they never wore those Royalties,
Nor in the progress of their lives arriv'd yet
At any thought of King: Imperial dignities,
And powerful God-like actions, fit for Princes
They can no more put on, and make 'em sit right,
Than I can with this mortal hand hold Heaven:
Poor petty men, nor have I yet forgot
The chiefest honours time, and merit gave 'em:
Lisimachus your Master, at the best,
His highest, and his hopeful'st Dignities
Was but grand-master of the Elephants ;

Seleuchus of the Treasure; and for Ptolomey ,
A thing not thought on then, scarce heard of yet,
Some Master of Ammunition: and must these men—

Dem. Must these, hold pace with us,
And on the same file hang their memories?
Must these examine what the wills of Kings are?
Prescribe to their designs, and chain their actions
To their restraints? be friends, and foes when they please?
Send out their Thunders, and their menaces,
As if the fate of mortal things were theirs?
Go 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—

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. 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.

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.