Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 5. Scene 5

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

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 5. Scene 4

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

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 5. Scene 3

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

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 5. Scene 2

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

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 5. Scene 1

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 — —

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 4. Scene 10

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

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 4. Scene 9

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.

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 4. Scene 8

ACT . IV. S CEN. VIII.

Callimachus to her.

Pyl . O! I may languish here for ought you know.
You are a proper Servant: I do fear
You but pretend Me onely, meane my Wealth,
I'm neer my Death, you think, something may fall,
And 'tis not good to be much out o'th' way.
You visit, and not wooe.
Call . I know this is
That sneaking, fawning Prusias tells you so.
I'm truer than his haire, or teeth, or nose.

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 4. Scene 7

ACT . IV. S CEN. VII.

To them Prusias .

— — Save you valiant Prusias .
God give you joy Sir of your handsome Widdow;
Poor Soldiers can get nothing; your three legs
And five Similitudes have done the Deed.
I'l leave you to your Beauty.
Pyl . How now Servant,
I see y' are Constant.
Pru . 'Tis your Vertue makes me.
Pyl . Do not you call my Gold my Vertue Sir?
Are not my Bags good Manners? and my Jewels

Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 4. Scene 6

ACT IV. S CEN. VI.

Pyle, Philostratus.

Pyl . No, no, I sent your Plot; it is my Wealth
You aim at, not my Person. You've a mind
To join your self to twenty thousand Crowns.
Phi . Would — —
Pyl . — — Now you'l wish I know, you ne'r might wear
Foul Linnen more, never be lowzy agen,
Nor iy Perdue with the fat Sutlers Wife,
In the provoking Vertue of dead horse,
Your dear delights, and rare Camp Pleasures.

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