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.