sad displeasure,
Or any thing but dead, say she is banished,
Invent a crime, and I'le believe it, Sir.

_Ant_. Dead by the Law: we found her Hell, and her,
I mean her Charms and Spells, for which she perish'd;
And she confest she drew thee to thy ruine,
And purpos'd it, purpos'd my Empires overthrow.

_Dem_. But is she dead? was there no pity Sir?
If her youth err'd, was there no mercy shown her?
Did ye look on her face, when ye condemn'd her?

_Ant_. I look'd into her heart, and there she was hideous.

_Dem_. Can she be dead? can vertue fall untimely?

_Ant_. She is dead, deservingly she died.

_Dem_. I have done then.
O matchless sweetness, whither art thou vanished?
O thou fair soul of all thy Sex, what Paradise
Hast thou inrich'd and blest? I am your son, Sir,
And to all you shall command stand most obedient,
Only a little time I must intreat you
To study to forget her; 'twill not be long, Sir,
Nor I long after it: art thou dead _Celia_,
Dead my poor wench? my joy, pluckt green with violence:
O fair sweet flower, farewel; Come, thou destroyer
Sorrow, thou melter of the soul, dwell with me;
Dwell with me solitary thoughts, tears, cryings,
Nothing that loves the day, love me, or seek me,
Nothing that loves his own life haunt about me:
And Love, I charge thee, never charm mine eyes more,
Nor ne're betray a beauty to my curses:
For I shall curse all now, hate all, forswear all,
And all the brood of fruitful nature vex at,
For she is gone that was all, and I nothing-- [_Ex. & Gent_.

_Ant_. This opinion must be maintained.

_Men_. It shall be, Sir.

_Ant_. Let him go; I can at mine own pleasure
Draw him to th' right again: wait your instructions,
And see the souldier paid, _Leontius_:
Once more ye are welcome home all.

_All_. Health to your Majesty. [_Ex. Antig. &c._

_Leo_. Thou wentest along the journey, how canst thou tell?

_Host_. I did, but I am sure 'tis so: had I staid behind,
I think this had not proved.

_Leo_. A Wench the reason?

_Lieu_. Who's that talks of a Wench there?

_Leo_. All this discontent
About a Wench?

_Lieu_. Where is this Wench, good Colonel?

_Leo_. Prithee hold thy Peace: who calls thee to counsel?

_Lieu_. Why, if there be a Wench--

_Leo_. 'Tis fit thou know her:

_Enter_ 2 Gentlemen.

That I'le say for thee, and as fit thou art for her,
Let her be mewed or stopt: how is it Gentlemen?

_1 Gent_. He's wondrous discontent, he'l speak to no ma