ACT. V. S CEN. VIII.

Misander, Leucasia, Chryse, Euthalpe, Priest, Eudemus, Timophilus, Cleodemus, Patacion,
Epigenes, Scedasus, Terpander.

Mis. Must there be something still to cross our joys?
What is the matter here?
Phi. A Fury, a Fury!
Yonder he slinks.
Cal. And 't please your Majesty
I am no Fury, I'm a Captain, one
They call Callimachus by daylight Sir;
The Angel Sir, the Angel!
Pru. I'm the Angell.

ACT. V. S CEN VII.

Nicias slinks in, and placeth himself as behind a
Pillar to take the sight; Callimachus after him
dress'd as a Fury .

Call. Well! a Male Fiend is fit for a She Fury;
Like must to like; so I unto this Widdow.
If any of my Coat should come and take
Acquaintance of me for a recall Fiend,
And find me tripping, I've no other way
But just to swear him down I am a true one
That have — — (let's see) — — lain Leiger in the Indies,

ACT . V. S CEN . VI.

Prusias drest like an Angell with a Caduceus in one
hand, and a Taper in the other .

Prus. Thou art an Angell, Prusids , therfore fit
To be receiv'd into her heav'nly Bosome.
She shapes thee in an Habit, that she'l wed thee.
Truly, I think all Courtiers would be Angels,
If that they were not giv'n so much to th' flesh,
That keeps 'em all from Heav'n. But why should I
Be set to guard a Coffin? If there doe
Any ill Spirits use to haunt this Temple,

ACT V. S CEN . V.

Philostratus in a Winding-sheet to perform the
Injunction of the Widdow .

Phil. I have not seen the inside of a Temple
These twelve Months til this time, & now I come
Commanded too: Hell's in this damned Widdow.
What doth she mean to make me lye in a Coffin?
I am not fit for Death, although I think
I'm very forward towards it: Somthing in
My Bones doth tell me so. But let that passe.
If Death should go to claim me now, I were

ACT . V. S CEN . IV.

To them Pyle, Eudemus .

Pyl . Make room for heaven's sake; pray y' quit the Place.
What, will you stifle her with this Multitude?
Mis. Thunder it self shall not remove me hence.
[Leucasia awakens and casts her Eye on Misander.]
Leuc. O! who disturbs the quiet of my Soul
I'd been by this time at Elysium
Had none molested me. But I am glad

ACT . V. S CEN . III.

Leucasia discover'd sleeping, Misander,
Cleodemus, Timophilus, Patacion, Scedasus,
Epigenes, Terpander, Euthalpe .

Mis. Is it still death if I begin to love?
Euth. And can I live if she begin to dye?
To tear mine hair is Womanish; to forerun
And lead the way t' Elyzium but a duty
She would not thank me for: if that some God,
Envious of honest fires, hath destin'd ruine
Unto this fairer Altar where they burn,

ACT . V. S CEN . II.

To him Pyle .

Pyl. Come,
Make haste; conduct m', Eudemus ; sleeps Misander?
Hath he drunk deep and largely?
Eud. Hatefull Woman!
If thou hast any poison here about thee
Beside thy malice, doe one deed of Charity;
Infuse it into me: Shew here the vigor
Of that thy damned Art. Vile Sorceresse!
Look me to death: for every glance of thine
Should carry Fate with it. Thou'rt slack, when that

ACT. V. SCEN. I.

Eudemus.

Eud. With what Contrivance, and Deliberation
Am I become a Paricide? whiles that
I seek to quit her from a Tyrant. I
Am proved one my self, one worse than he;
In that I'm Cruell out of Tendernesse.
Is this to save thine Honour my Leucasia ,
To take away thy Life? I would I had
Yeelded thee up without all tumult, then
Th' hadst liv'd at least. Now I desire thy Guilt.
Curs'd be that Fury that I dealt with — —

ACT . IV. S CEN . X.

Leucasia with the Potion in a Glass.

Leu. I'm hurri'd still, and yet I know not whither,
But I am hurri'd — — O distracted thoughts!
Eudemus urgeth Poyson, but I love.
Is this a Fathers gift? and to be drank,
Before we go t' our Nuptials, that those Souls
Which should be join'd, may be divorc'd for ever?
'Twas meant for good Misander , but I'l drink it.
I have a thirst that's Loyall. My death will
Make no more alteration, than the adding

ACT IV. S CEN . IX.

To them Nicias .

— — Faith if thou hast a mind, good Painter, to
Our Chambermaid Elpidia , cause I see thee
Hanker so oft about our house here, tell me;
I'l do thee all the good I can.
Nic. I thank you.
Cal. Prethee sweet Wife, abuse this busie fellow,
Put some fine trick upon him, that we may
Laugh at our Wedding: 'tis a sneaking Cockscomb.