lose ye?

_Cel_. At the Sack of _Antioch_,
Where my good Unckle di'd, and I was taken,
By a mean Souldier taken: by this Prince,
This noble Prince, redeem'd from him again,
Where ever since I have remain'd his Servant.

_Sel_. My joys are now too full: welcome _Enanthe_,
Mine own, my dearest, and my best _Enanthe_.

_Dem_. And mine too desperate.

_Sel_. You shall not think so,
This is a peace indeed.

_Ant_. I hope it shall be,
And ask it first.

_Cel_. Most Royal Sir, ye have it.

_Dem_. I once more beg it thus.

_Sel_. You must not be deny'd, Sir.

_Cel_. By me, I am sure he must not: sure he shall not;
Kneeling I give it too; kneeling I take it;
And from this hour, no envious spight e're part us.

_All_. The gods give happy joyes; all comforts to ye.

_Dem_. My new _Enanthe_.

_Ant_. Come, beat all the Drums up,
And all the noble instruments of War:
Let 'em fill all the Kingdom with their sound,
And those the brazen Arch of Heaven break through,
While to the Temple we conduct these two.

_Leo_. May they be ever loving, ever young,
And ever worthy of those lines they sprung;
May their fair issues walk with time along.

_Lieu_. And hang a Coward now; and there's my song. [_Exeunt._

* * * * *

Prologue.

_Would some man would instruct me what to say
For this same Prologue, usual to a Play,
Is tied to such an old form of Petition;
Men must say nothing now beyond commission:
The Cloaks we wear, the Leggs we make, the place
We stand in, must be one; and one the face.
Nor alter'd nor exceeded; if it be,
A general hisse hangs on our levitie:
We have a Play, a new Play to play now,
And thus low in our Playes behalf we bow;
We bow to beg your suffrage, and kind ear;
If it were naught, or that it might appear,
A thing buoy'd up by prayer, Gentlemen,
Believe my faith, you should not see me then.
Let them speak then have power to stop a storm:
I never lov'd to feel a House so warm:
But for the Play if you dare credit me,
I think it well: All new things you shall see,
And these disposed to all the mirth that may;
And short enough we hope: and such a Play
You were wont to like: sit nobly then, and see:
If it miscarry, pray look not for me._

* * * * *

Epilogue,
Spoke by the _Lieutenant_.

_I am not cur'd yet throughly; for believe
I feel another passion that