Chapter II: Part 2

_Mem._ But I shall catch ye, Rascal,
Your mangy Soul is not immortal here, Sir,
Ye must dye, and we must meet; we must, maggot,
Be sure we must, for not a Nook of Hell,
Not the most horrid Pit shall harbour thee;
The Devils tail sha'n't hide thee, but I'll have thee,
And how I'll use thee! whips and firebrands:
Tosting thy tail against a flame of wild fire,
And basting it with Brimstone, shall be nothing,
Nothing at all; I'll teach ye to be treacherous:
Was never Slave so swing'd since Hell was Hell
As I will swinge thy Slaves Soul; and be sure on't.

_Pol._ Is this imagination, or some circumstance?
For 'tis extream strange.

_Eumen._ So is all he does, Sir.

_Mem._ Till then I'll leave ye; who's there? where's the Surgeon?
_Demagoras?_

_Dem._ My Lord.

_Mem._ Bring the Surgeon:
And wait you too.

_Enter_ Surgeon.

_Pol._ What wou'd he with a Surgeon?

_Eum._ Things mustring in his head: pray mark.

_Mem._ Come hither,
Have you brought your Instruments?

_Sur._ They are within, Sir.

_Mem._ Put to the doors a while there; ye can incise
To a hairs breadth without defacing.

_Sur._ Yes Sir.

_Mem._ And take out fairly from the flesh.

_Sur._ The least thing.

_Mem._ Well come hither; take off my doublet,
For look ye Surgeon, I must have ye cut
My Heart out here, and handsomly: Nay, stare not,
Nor do not start; I'll cut your throat else, Surgeon,
Come swear to do it.

_Sur._ Good Sir--

_Mem._ Sirrah, hold him,
I'll have but one blow at his head.

_Sur._ I'll do it,
Why what should we do living after you, Sir?
We'll dye before if ye please.

_Mem._ No, no.

_Sur._ Living? hang living.
Is there ne'r a Cat hole where I may creep through?
Would I were in the _Indies_. [_Aside._

_Mem._ Swear then, and after my death presently
To kill your selves and follow, as ye are honest,
As ye have faiths, and loves to me.

_Dem._ We'll do it.

_Eum._ Pray do not stir yet, we are near enough
To run between all dangers.

_Mem._ Here I am, Sir;
Come, look upon me, view the best way boldly,
Fear nothing, but cut home; if your hand shake, Sirrah,
Or any way deface my heart i'th' cutting,
Make the least scratch upon it; but draw it whole,
Excellent fair, shewing at all points, Surgeon,
The Honour and the Valour of the Owner,
Mixt with the most immaculate love I send it,
Look to't, I'll slice thee to the Soul.

_Sur._ Ne'r fear, Sir,
I'll do it daintily; would I were out once.

_Mem._ I will not have ye smile, Sirrah, when ye do it,
As though ye cut a Ladies Corn; 'tis scurvy:
Do me it as thou dost thy Prayers, seriously.

_Sur._ I'll do it in a dump, Sir.

_Mem._ In a Dog, Sir,
I'll have no dumps, nor dumplins; fetch your tools,
And then I'll tell ye more.

_Sur._ If I return
To hear more, I'll be hang'd for't.

_Mem._ Quick, quick.

_Dem._ Yes Sir,
With all the heels we have. [_Exeunt_ Surgeon, Demagoras.

_Eumen._ Yet stand.

_Pol._ He'l do it.

_Eum._ He cannot, and we here.

_Mem._ Why when ye Rascals,
Ye dull Slaves: will ye come, Sir? Surgeon, syringe,
Dog-leach, shall I come fetch ye?

_Pol._ Now I'll to him.
God save ye honour'd Brother.

_Mem._ My dear _Polydore_,
Welcome from travel, welcome; and how do ye?

_Pol._ Well Sir, would you were so.

_Mem._ I am, I thank ye.
You are a better'd man much, I the same still,
An old rude Souldier, Sir.

_Pol._ Pray be plain, Brother,
And tell me but the meaning of this Vision,
For to me it appears no more; so far
From common Course and Reason.

_Mem._ Thank thee, Fortune,
At length I have found the man: the man must do it,
The man in honour bound.

_Pol._ To do what?

_Mem._ Hark, for I will bless ye with the circumstance
Of that weak shadow that appear'd.

_Pol._ Speak on, Sir. [_Walks with him._

_Mem._ It is no Story for all ears.

_Pol._ The Princess? [_Whispers._

_Mem._ Peace and hear all.

_Pol._ How?

_Eum._ Sure 'tis dangerous
He starts so at it.

_Pol._ Your heart? do you know, Sir?

_Mem._ Yes, Pray thee be softer.

_Pol._ Me to do it?

_Mem._ Only reserv'd, and dedicated.

_Pol._ For shame, Brother,
Know what ye are, a man.

_Mem._ None of your _Athens_,
Good sweet Sir, no Philosophy, thou feel'st not
The honourable end, fool.

_Pol._ I am sure I feel
The shame and scorn that follows; have ye serv'd thus long
The glory of your Country, in your Conquests?
The envy of your Neighbours, in your Vertues?
Rul'd Armies of your own, given Laws to Nations,
Belov'd and fear'd as far as Fame has travell'd,
Call'd the most fortunate and happy _Memnon_,
To lose all here at home, poorly to lose it?
Poorly, and pettishly, ridiculously
To fling away your fortune? where's your Wisedom?
Where's that you govern'd others by, discretion?
Do's your Rule lastly hold upon your self? fie Brother,
How ye are faln? Get up into your honour,
The top branch of your bravery, and from thence,
Look and behold how little _Memnon_ seems now.

_Mem._ Hum! 'tis well spoken; but dost thou think young Scholar,
The tongues of Angels from my happiness
Could turn the end I aim at? no, they cannot.
This is no Book-case, Brother; will ye do it?
Use no more art, I am resolv'd.

_P[o]l._ Ye may Sir
Command me to do any thing that's honest,
And for your noble end: but this, it carries--

_Mem._ Ye shall not be so honour'd; live an Ass still,
And learn to spell for profit: go, go study.

_Eum._ Ye must not hold him up so, he is lost then.

_Mem._ Get thee to School again, and talk of turnips,
And find the natural Cause out, why a Dog
Turns thrice about e're he lyes down: there's Learning.

_Pol._ Come, I will do it now; 'tis brave, I find it,
And now allow the reason.

_Mem._ O do you so, Sir?
Do ye find it currant?

_Pol._ Yes, yes, excellent.

_Mem._ I told ye.

_Pol._ I was foolish: I have here too
The rarest way to find the truth out; hark ye?
Ye shall be rul'd by me.

_Mem._ It will be: but--

_Pol._ I reach it,
If the worst fall, have at the worst; we'll both go.
But two days, and 'tis thus; ha?

_Mem._ 'Twill do well so.

_Pol._ Then is't not excellent, do ye conceive it?

_Mem._ 'Twill work for certain.

_Pol._ O 'twill tickle her,
And you shall know then by a line.

_Mem._ I like it,
But let me not be fool'd again.

_Pol._ Doubt nothing,
You do me wrong then, get ye in there private
As I have taught ye; _Basta_.

_Mem._ Work. [_Exit_ Memnon.

_Pol._ I will do.

_Eum._ Have ye found the cause?

_Pol._ Yes, and the strangest, Gentlemen,
That e'r I heard of, anon I'll tell ye: _Stremon_
Be you still near him to affect his fancy,
And keep his thoughts off: let the Fool and Boy
Stay him, they may do some pleasure too: _Eumenes_
What if he had a Wench, a handsome Whore brought,
Rarely drest up, and taught to state it?

_Eum._ Well Sir.

_Pol._ His cause is meerly heat: and made believe
It were the Princess mad for him.

_Eum._ I think
'Twere not amiss.

_1 Cap._ And let him kiss her.

_Pol._ What else?

_2 Cap._ I'll be his Bawd an't please you, young and wholesome
I can assure ye he shall have.

_Eum._ Faith let him.

_Pol._ He shall, I hope 'twill help him, walk a little.
I'll tell you how his case stands, and my project
In which you may be mourners, but by all means
Stir not you from him, _Stremon_.

_Strem._ On our lives, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Priestess, _and_ Chilax.

_Pri._ O y'are a precious man! two days in town
And never see your old Friend?

_Chi._ Prithee pardon me.

_Pri._ And in my Conscience if I had not sent.

_Chi._ No more, I would ha' come; I must.

_Pri._ I find ye,
God a mercy want, ye never care for me
But when your Slops are empty.

_Chi._ Ne'r fear that, Wench;
Shall find good currant Coin still; Is this the old House?

_Pri._ Have ye forgot it?

_Chi._ And the door still standing
That goes into the Temple?

_Pri._ Still.

_Chi._ The Robes too,
That I was wont to shift in here?

_Pri._ All here still.

_Chi._ O ye tuff Rogue, what troubles have I trotted through!
What fears and frights! every poor Mouse a Monster
That I heard stir, and every stick I trod on,
A sharp sting to my Conscience.

_Pri._ 'Las poor Conscience.

_Chi._ And all to liquor thy old Boots, Wench.

_Pri._ Out Beast:
How you talk!

_Chi._ I am old, Wench,
And talking to an old man is like a stomacher,
It keeps his blood warm.

_Pri._ But pray tell me--

_Chi._ Any thing.

_Pri._ Where did the Boy meet with ye? at a Wench sure?
At one end of a Wench, a Cup of Wine, sure?

_Chi._ Thou know'st I am too honest.

_Pri._ That's your fault,
And that the Surgeon knows.

_Chi._ Then farewel,
I will not fail ye soon.

_Pri._ Ye shall stay Supper;
I have sworn ye shall, by this ye shall.

_Chi._ I will, Wench;
But after Supper for an hour, my business.

_Pri._ And but an hour?

_Chi._ No by this kiss, that ended
I will return and all night in thine Arms wench.

_Pr._ No more, I'le take your meaning; come 'tis Supper time.
[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Calis, Cleanthe, Lucippe.

_Calis._ Thou art not well.

_Clean._ Your grace sees more a great deal
Than I feel, (yet I lye) O Brother!

_Cal._ Mark her,
Is not the quickness of her eye consumed, wench?
The lively red and white?

_Lucip._ Nay she is much alter'd,
That on my understanding, all her sleeps Lady
Which were as sound and sweet--

_Cle._ Pray do not force me,
Good Madam, where I am not, to be ill,
Conceit's a double sickness; on my faith your highness
Is meer mistaken in me. { _A Dead March within
{ of Drum and Sagbutts_
_Cal._ I am glad on't.
Yet this I have ever noted when thou wast thus,
It still forerun some strange event: my Sister
Died when thou wast thus last: hark hark, ho,
What mournfull noise is this comes creeping forward?
Still it grows nearer, nearer, do ye hear it?

_Enter_ Polydor, _and Captains_, Eumenes _mourning_.

_Lucip._ It seems some Souldiers funeral: see it enters.

_C[a]l._ What may it mean?

_Pol._ The Gods keep ye fair _Calis_.

_Cal._ This man can speak, and well; he stands and views us;
Wou'd I were ne'r worse look't upon: how humbly
His eyes are cast now to the Earth! pray mark him
And mark how rarely he has rankt his troubles:
See now he weeps, they all weep; a sweeter sorrow
I never look't upon, nor one that braver
Became his grief; your will with us?

_Pol._ Great Lady, [_Plucks out the Cup._
Excellent beauty.

_Cal._ He speaks handsomely.
What a rare rhetorician his grief plaies!
That stop was admirable.

_Pol._ See, see thou Princess,
Thou great commander of all hearts.

_Cal._ I have found it,
O how my soul shakes!

_Pol._ See, see the noble heart
Of him that was the noblest: see and glory
(Like the proud God himself) in what thou hast purchas'd,
Behold the heart of _Memnon_: does it start ye?

_Cal._ Good gods, what has his wildness done?

_Pol._ Look boldlie,
You boldlie said you durst, look wretched woman,
Nay flie not back fair follie, 'tis too late now,
Vertue and blooming honour bleed to death here,
Take it, the Legacie of Love bequeath'd ye,
Of cruel Love a cruel Legacie;
What was the will that wrought it then? can ye weep?
Imbalm it in your truest tears
If women can weep a truth, or ever sorrow sunk yet
Into the soul of your sex, for 'tis a Jewel
The worlds worth cannot weigh down,
Take it Lady; And with it all (I dare not curse) my sorrows,
And may they turn to Serpents.

_Eumen._ How she looks
Still upon him! see now a tear steals from her.

_2 Capt._ But still she keeps her eye firm.

_Pol._ Next read this,
But since I see your spirit somewhat troubled
I'le doe it for ye.

_2 Capt._ Still she eyes him mainlie.

_Goe happy heart for thou shalt lye_
_Intomb'd in her for whom I dye_
_Example of her cruelty._

_Tell her if she chance to chide_
_Me for slowness in her pride_
_That it was for her I died._

_If a tear escape her eye_
_'Tis not for my memory_
_But thy rights of obsequy._

_The Altar was my loving breast,_
_My heart the sacrificed beast,_
_And I was my self the Priest._

_Your body was the sacred shrine,_
_Your cruel mind the power divine_
_Pleas'd with hearts of men, not kine._

_Eumen._ Now it pours down.

_Pol._ I like it rarelie: Ladie.

_Eumen._ How greedily she swallows up his language!

_2 Capt._ Her eye inhabits on him.

_Pol._ Cruel Ladie,
Great as your beautie scornfull; had your power
But equal poise on all hearts, all hearts perish't;
But _Cupid_ has more shafts than one, more flames too,
And now he must be open ey'd, 'tis Justice:
Live to injoy your longing; live and laugh at
The losses and the miseries we suffer;
Live to be spoken when your crueltie
Has cut off all the vertue from this Kingdom,
Turn'd honour into earth, and faithful service.

_Cal._ I swear his anger's excellent.

_Pol._ Truth, and most tried love
Into disdain and downfall.

_Calis._ Still more pleasing.

_Pol._ Live then I say famous for civil slaughters,
Live and lay out your triumphs, gild your glories,
Live and be spoken this is she, this Ladie,
This goodly Ladie, yet most killing beautie;
This with the two edg'd eyes, the heart for hardness
Outdoing rocks; and coldness, rocks of Crystal.
This with the swelling soul, more coy of Courtship
Than the proud sea is when the shores embrace him;
Live till the mothers find ye, read your story,
And sow their barren curses on your beauty,
Till those that have enjoy'd their loves despise ye,
Till Virgins pray against ye, old age find ye,
And even as wasted coals glow in their dying,
So may the Gods reward ye in your ashes:
But y'are the Sister of my King; more prophecies
Else I should utter of ye, true loves and loyal
Bless themselves ever from ye: so I leave ye.

_Cal._ Prethee be angry still young man: good fair Sir
Chide me again, what wou'd this man doe pleas'd,
That in his passion can bewitch souls? stay.

_Eumen._ Upon my life she loves him.

_Calis._ Pray stay.

_Pol._ No.

_Cal._ I do command ye.

_Pol._ No, ye cannot Ladie,
I have a spell against ye, Faith and Reason,
Ye are too weak to reach me: I have a heart too,
But not for hawks meat Ladie.

_Cal._ Even for Charity
Leave me not thus afflicted: you can teach me.

_Pol._ How can you Preach that Charity to others
That in your own soul are an Atheist,
Believing neither power nor fear? I trouble ye,
The Gods be good unto ye.

_Cal._ Amen.

_Lucip._ Ladie. [_She Swounds._

_C[l]e._ O royal Madam, Gentlemen for heaven sake. { _They
{ come
_Pol._ Give her fresh air, she comes again: away sirs { back._
And here stand close till we perceive the working.

_Eumen._ Ye have undone all.

_Pol._ So I fear.

_2 Capt._ She loves ye.

_Eumen._ And then all hopes lost this way.

_Pol._ Peace she rises.

_Clean._ Now for my purpose Fortune.

_Calis._ Where's the Gentleman?

_Lucip._ Gone Madam.

_Calis._ Why gone?

_Lucip._ H'as dispatch't his business.

_Calis._ He came to speak with me,
He did.

_Clean._ He did not.

_Calis._ For I had many questions.

_Lucip._ On my Faith Madam, he
Talk't a great while to ye.

_Calis._ Thou conceiv'st not,
He talk't not as he should doe; O my heart
Away with that sad sight; didst thou e're love me?

_Lucip._ Why do you make that question?

_Calis._ If thou didst
Run, run wench, run: nay see how thou stir'st.

_Lucip._ Whither?

_Calis._ If 'twere for any thing to please thy self
Thou woud'st run toth' devil: but I am grown--

_Clean._ Fie Lady.

_Cal._ I ask none of your fortunes, nor your loves,
None of your bent desires I slack, ye are not
In love with all men, are ye? one for shame
You will leave your honour'd mistris? why do ye stare so?
What is that ye see about me, tell me?
Lord what am I become? I am not wilde sure,
Heaven keep that from me: O _Cleanthe_ help me,
Or I am sunk to death.

_Cle._ Ye have offended and mightily, love is incenst against ye,
And therefore take my Counsel, to the Temple,
For that's the speediest physick: before the Goddess
Give your repentant prayers: ask her will,
And from the Oracle attend your sentence,
She is milde and mercifull.

_Calis._ I will: O _Venus_
Even as thou lov'st thy self!

_Clean._ Now for my fortune. [_Exeunt_ Cal. _and women_.

_Pol._ What shall I doe?

_1 Capt._ Why make your self.

_Pol._ I dare not,
No Gentlemen, I dare not be a villain,
Though her bright beauty would entice an Angel.
I will toth' King my last hope: get him a woman
As we before concluded: and as ye pass
Give out the Spartans are in arms; and terrible;
And let some letters to that end be feign'd too
And sent to you, some Posts too, to the General;
And let me work: be ne're him still.

_Eumen._ We will Sir.

_Pol._ Farewel: and pray for all: what e're I will ye
Doe it, and hope a fair end.

_Eumen._ The Gods speed ye. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Stremon, _Fool, Boy, and Servants_.

_Servants._ He lies quiet.

_Strem._ Let him lye, and as I told ye
Make ready for this shew: h'as divers times
Been calling upon _Orpheus_ to appear
And shew the joyes: now I will be that _Orpheus_,
And as I play and sing, like beasts and trees
I wou'd have you shap't and enter: thou a Dog, fool,
I have sent about your sutes: the Boy a bush,
An Ass you, you a Lion.

_Fool._ I a Dog?
I'le fit you for a Dog. Bow wow.

_Strem._ 'Tis excellent,
Steal in and make no noise.

_Fool._ Bow wow.

_Strem._ Away Rogue. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter Priestess, and_ Chilax.

_Priest._ Good sweet friend be not long.

_Chi._ Thou think'st each hour ten
Till I be ferreting.

_Prie._ You know I love ye.

_Chi._ I will not be above an hour; let thy robe be readie
And the door be kept. { _Knock._ Cleanthe
{ _knocks within_.
_Prie._ Who knocks there?
Yet more business?

_Enter_ Cleanthe.

_Chi._ Have ye more pensioners? the Princess woman?
Nay then I'le stay a little, what game's a foot now?

_Clean._ Now is the time.

_Chi._ A rank bawd by this hand too,
She grinds o' both sides: hey boyes.

_Priest._ How, your Brother _Siphax_?
Loves he the Princess?

_Cle._ Deadlie, and you know
He is a Gentleman descended noblie.

_Chi._ But a rank knave as ever pist.

_Cle._ Hold Mother,
Here's more gold and some jewells.

_Chi._ Here's no villany,
I am glad I came toth' hearing.

_Priest._ Alas Daughter,
What would ye have me doe?

_Chi._ Hold off ye old whore;
There's more gold coming; all's mine, all.

_Cle._ Do ye shrink now,
Did ye not promise faithfully, and told me
Through any danger?

_Pri._ Any I can wade through.

_Cle._ Ye shall and easily, the sin not seen neither,
Here's for a better stole and a new vail mother:
Come, ye shall be my friend.

_Chi._ If all hit, hang me,
I'le make ye richer than the Goddess.

_Pri._ Say then,
I am yours, what must I doe?

_Cle._ I'th' morning
But very early, will the Princess visit
The Temple of the Goddess, being troubled
With strange things that distract her: from the Oracle
(Being strongly too in love) she will demand
The Goddess pleasure, and a Man to cure her,
That Oracle you give: describe my Brother,
You know him perfectly.

_Pri._ I have seen him often.

_Cle._ And charge her take the next man she shall meet with
When she comes out: you understand me.

_Priest._ Well.

_Cle._ Which shall be he attending; this is all,
And easily without suspicion ended,
Nor none dare disobey, 'tis Heaven that does it,
And who dares cross it then, or once suspect it?
The venture is most easie.

_Pri._ I will doe it.

_Cle._ As ye shall prosper?

_Pri._ As I shall prosper.

_Cle._ Take this too, and farewel; but first hark hither.

_Chi._ What a young whore's this to betray her Mistris?
A thousand Cuckolds shall that Husband be,
That marries thee, thou art so mischievous.
I'le put a spoak among your wheels.

_Clean._ Be constant.

_Priest._ 'Tis done.

_Chi._ I'le doe no more at drop shot then. [_Exit_ Chilax.

_Pri._ Farewel wench. [_Exeunt Priest and_ Cleanthe.

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter a Servant, and_ Stremon, _at the door_.

_Servant._ He stirs, he stirs.

_Strem._ Let him, I am ready for him,
He shall not this day perish, if his passions
May be fed with Musick; are they ready?

_Enter_ Memnon.

_Ser._ All, all: see where he comes.

_Strem._ I'le be straight for him. [_Exit_ Stremon.

_Enter_ Eumenes, _and Captains_.

_Ser._ How sad he looks and sullen! [_Stand close._
Here are the Captains: my fear's past now.

_Mem._ Put case i'th' other world
She do not love me neither? I am old 'tis certain.

_Eumen._ His spirit is a little quieter.

_Mem._ My blood lost, and limbs stiff; my embraces
Like the cold stubborn bark, hoarie, and heatless,
My words worse: my fame only and atchievements
Which are my strength, my blood, my youth, my fashion,
Must wooe her, win her, wed her; that's but wind,
And women are not brought to bed with shadows:
I do her wrong, much wrong; she is young and blessed,
Sweet as the spring, and as his blossoms tender,
And I a nipping North-wind, my head hung
With hails, and frostie Isicles: are the souls so too
When they depart hence, lame and old, and loveless?
No sure, 'tis ever youth there; Time and Death
Follow our flesh no more: and that forc'd opinion
That spirits have no sexes, I believe not.

_Enter_ Stremon, _like_ Orpheus.

There must be love, there is love: what art thou?

SONG.

Stre. _Orpheus I am, come from the deeps below,_
_To thee fond man the plagues of love to show:_
_To the fair fields where loves eternal dwell_
_There's none that come, but first they pass through hell:_
_Hark and beware unless thou hast lov'd ever,_
_Belov'd again, thou shalt see those joyes never._

_Hark how they groan that dy'd despairing,_
_O take heed then:_
_Hark how they howl for over-daring,_
_All these were men._

_They that be fools, and dye for fame_
_They lose their name;_
_And they that bleed_
_Hark how they speed._

_Now in cold frosts, now scorching fires_
_They sit, and curse their lost desires:_
_Nor shall these souls be free from pains and fears,_
_Till Women waft them over in their tears._

_Mem._ How should I know my passage is deni'd me?
Or which of all the Devils dare?

_Eumen._ This Song
Was rarely form'd to fit him.

SONG.

Orph. _Charon O Charon,_
_Thou wafter of the souls to bliss or bane._

Cha. _Who calls the Ferry-man of Hell?_

Orph. _Come near,_
_And say who lives in joy, and who in fear._

Cha. _Those that dye well, Eternal joy shall follow;_
_Those that dye ill, their own foul fate shall swallow._

Orph. _Shall thy black Bark those guilty spirits stow_
_That kill themselves for love?_

Cha. _O no, no,_
_My cordage cracks when such great sins are near,_
_No wind blows fair, nor I myself can stear._

Orph. _What lovers pass and in Elyzium raign?_

Cha. _Those Gentle loves that are belov'd again._

Orph. _This Souldier loves, and fain wou'd dye to win,_
_Shall he goe on?_

Cha. _No 'tis too foul a sin._
_He must not come aboard: I dare not row,_
_Storms of despair, and guilty blood will blow._

Orph. _Shall time release him, say?_

Cha. _No, no, no, no._
_Nor time nor death can alter us, nor prayer;_
_My boat is destinie, and who then dare_
_But those appointed come aboard? Live still,_
_And love by reason, Mortal, not by will._

Orph. _And when thy Mistris shall close up thine eyes,_

Cha. _Then come aboard and pass,_

Orph. _Till when be wise._

Cha. _Till when be wise._

_Eumen._ How still he sits: I hope this Song has setled him.

_1 Capt._ He bites his lip, and rowles his fiery eyes, yet
I fear for all this--

_2 Capt._ _Stremon_ still apply to him.

_Strem._ Give me more room, sweetly strike, divinely
Such strains as old earth moves at.

_Orph._ The power I have over both beast and plant,
Thou man alone feelst miserable want. [_Musick._
Strike you rare Spirits that attend my will,
And lose your savage wildness by my skill.

_Enter a_ Mask _of_ Beasts.

This Lion was a man of War that died,
As thou wouldst do, to gild his Ladies pride:
This Dog a fool that hung himself for love:
This Ape with daily hugging of a glove,
Forgot to eat and died. This goodly tree,
An usher that still grew before his Ladie,
Wither'd at root. This, for he could not wooe,
A grumbling Lawyer: this pyed Bird a page,
That melted out because he wanted age.
Still these lye howling on the Stygian shore,
O love no more, O love no more. [_Exit_ Memnon.

_Eumen._ He steals off silently, as though he would sleep,
No more, but all be near him, feed his fancie
Good _Stremon_ still; this may lock up his follie.
Yet Heaven knows I much fear him; away softly. [_Exeunt Captains._

_Fool._ Did I not doe most doggedly?

_Strem._ Most rarelie.

_Fool._ He's a brave man, when shall we dog again?

_Boy._ Unty me first for Gods sake,

_Fool._ Help the Boy; he's in a wood poor child: good hony _Stremon_
Let's have a bear-baiting; ye shall see me play
The rarest for a single Dog: at head all;
And if I do not win immortal glorie,
Play Dog play Devil.

_Strem._ Peace for this time.

_Fool._ Prethee
Let's sing him a black Santis, then let's all howl
In our own beastly voices; tree keep your time,
Untye there; bow, wow, wow.

_Strem._ Away ye Asse, away.

_Fool._ Why let us doe something
To satisfie the Gentleman, he's mad;
A Gentleman-like humour, and in fashion,
And must have men as mad about him.

_Strem._ Peace,
And come in quicklie, 'tis ten to one else
He'l find a staff to beat a dog; no more words,
I'le get ye all imployment; soft, soft in all. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Chilax _and_ Cloe.

_Chi._ When camest thou over wench?

_Clo._ But now this evening,
And have been ever since looking out _Siphax_,
I'th' wars he would have lookt me: sure h'as gotten
Some other Mistris?

_Chi._ A thousand, wench, a thousand,
They are as common here as Caterpillers
Among the corn, they eat up all the Souldiers.

_Clo._ Are they so hungry? yet by their leave _[C]hilax_,
I'le have a snatch too.

_Chi._ Dost thou love him still wench?

_Clo._ Why should I not? he had my Maiden-head
And all my youth.

_Chi._ Thou art come the happiest,
In the most blessed time, sweet wench the fittest,
If thou darst make thy fortune: by this light, _Cloe_,
And so I'le kiss thee: and if thou wilt but let me,
For 'tis well worth a kindness.

_Clo._ What shou'd I let ye?

_Chi._ Enjoy thy miniken.

_Clo._ Thou art still old _Chilax_.

_Chi._ Still still, and ever shall be: if, I say,
Thou wo't strike the stroke: I cannot do much harm wench.

_Clo._ Nor much good.

_Chi._ _Siphax_ shall be thy Husband,
Thy very Husband woman, thy fool, thy Cuckold,
Or what thou wilt make him: I am over joy'd,
Ravisht, clean ravisht with this fortune; kiss me,
Or I shall lose my self.

_Clo._ My Husband said ye?

_Chi._ Said I? and will say, _Cloe_: nay and do it
And do it home too; Peg thee as close to him
As birds are with a pin to one another;
I have it, I can do it: thou wantst clothes too,
And hee'l be hang'd unless he marry thee
E're he maintain thee: now he has Ladies, Courtiers
More than his back can bend at, multitudes;
We are taken up for threshers, will ye bite?

_Clo._ Yes.

_Chi._ And let me--

_Clo._ Yes and let ye--

_Chi._ What!

_Clo._ Why that ye wote of.

_Chi._ I cannot stay, take your instructions
And something toward houshold, come, what ever
I shall advise ye, follow it exactlie,
And keep your times I point ye; for I'le tell ye
A strange way you must wade through.

_Clo._ Fear not me Sir.

_Chi._ Come then, and let's dispatch this modicum,
For I have but an hour to stay, a short one,
Besides more water for another mill,
An old weak over-shot I must provide for,
There's an old Nunnerie at hand.

_Clo._ What's that?

_Chi._ A bawdie house.

_Clo._ A pox consume it.

_Chi._ If the stones 'tis built on
Were but as brittle as the flesh lives in it,
Your curse came handsomlie: fear not, there's ladies,
And other good sad people: your pinkt Citizens
Think it no shame to shake a sheet there: Come wench. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Cleanthe _and_ Siphax.

_Clean._ A Souldier and so fearfull?

_Siph._ Can ye blame me;
When such a weight lies on me?

_Clean._ Fye upon ye,
I tell ye, ye shall have her: have her safelie,
And for your wife with her own will.

_Siph._ Good Sister--

_Cle._ What a distrustfull man are you! to morrow,
To morrow morning--

_Siph._ Is it possible?
Can there be such a happiness?

_Clean._ Why hang me
If then ye be not married: if to morrow night,
Ye doe not--

_Siph._ O dear Sister--

_Clean._ What ye wou'd doe,
What ye desire to doe; lie with her: Devil,
What a dull man are you!

_Siph._ Nay I believe now,
And shall she love me?

_Clean._ As her life, and stroke ye.

_Siph._ O I will be her Servant.

_Clean._ 'Tis your dutie.

_Siph._ And she shall have her whole will.

_Clean._ Yes 'tis reason,
She is a Princess, and by that rule boundless.

_Si._ What wou'd you be? for I wou'd have ye Sister
Chuse some great place about us: as her woman
Is not so fit.

_Clean._ No, no, I shall find places.

_Siph._ And yet to be a Ladie of her bed-chamber,
I hold not so fit neither,
Some great title, believe it, shall be look't out.

_Clean._ Ye may, a Dutchess
Or such a toye, a small thing pleases me Sir.

_Sip._ What you will Sister: if a neighbour Prince,
When we shall come to raign--

_Clean._ We shall think on't,
Be ready at the time, and in that place too,
And let me work the rest, within this half hour
The Princess will be going, 'tis almost morning,
Away and mind your business.

_Siph._ Fortune bless us. [_Exeunt._

_Enter King_, Polydor _and Lords_.

_Pol._ I do beseech your grace to banish me.

_King._ Why Gentleman, is she not worthy marriage?

_Pol._ Most worthy, Sir, where worth again shall meet her,
But I like thick clouds sailing slow and heavy,
Although by her drawn higher, yet shall hide her,
I dare not be a traitor; and 'tis treason,
But to imagine: as you love your honour--

_King._ 'Tis her first maiden doting, and if crost,
I know it kills her.

_1 Lord._ How knows your grace she loves him?

_King._ Her woman told me all (beside his story)
Her maid _Lucippe_, on what reason too,
And 'tis beyond all but enjoying.

_Polydor._ Sir,
Even by your wisdom; by that great discretion
Ye owe to rule and order--

_2 Lord._ This man's mad sure,
To plead against his fortune--

_1 Lord._ And the King too,
Willing to have it so!

_Pol._ By those dead Princes
From whose descents ye stand a star admir'd at,
Lay not so base a lay upon your vertues;
Take heed, for honours sake take heed: the bramble
No wise man ever planted by the rose,
It cankers all her beauty; nor the vine
When her full blushes court the sun, dares any
Choke up with wanton Ivy: good my Lords,
Who builds a monument, the Basis Jasper,
And the main body Brick?

_2 Lord._ Ye wrong your worth,
Ye are a Gentleman descended nobly.

_1 Lord._ In both bloods truly noble.

_King._ Say ye were not,
My will can make ye so.

_Pol._ No, never, never;
'Tis not descent, nor will of Princes does it,
'Tis Vertue which I want, 'tis Temperance,
Man, honest man: is't fit your Majesty
Should call my drunkenness, my rashness, Brother?
Or such a blessed Maid my breach of faith,
(For I am most lascivious) and fell angers
In which I am also mischievous, her Husband?
O Gods preserve her! I am wild as Winter,
Ambitious as the Devil: out upon me,
I hate my self, Sir, if ye dare bestow her
Upon a Subject, ye have one deserves her.

_King._ But him she does not love: I know your meaning.
This young mans love unto his noble Brother
Appears a mirrour; what must now be done Lords?
For I am gravel'd, if she have not him,
She dies for certain, if his Brother miss her,
Farewel to him, and all our honours.

_1 Lord._ He is dead, Sir,
Your Grace has heard of that, and strangely.

_King._ No,
I can assure you no, there was a trick in't,
Read that, and then know all; what ails the Gentleman?
Hold him; how do ye Sir? [Polydor _is sick o'th' sudden_.

_Pol._ Sick o'th' sudden,
Extreamly ill, wondrous ill.

_King._ Where did it take ye?

_Pol._ Here in my head, Sir, and my heart, for Heaven sake.

_King._ Conduct him to his Chamber presently,
And bid my Doctors--

_Pol._ No, I shall be well, Sir,
I do beseech your Grace, even for the Gods sake
Remember my poor Brother, I shall pray then.

_King._ Away, he grows more weak still: I will do it,
Or Heaven forget me ever. Now your Counsels, [_Ex._ Pol.
For I am at my wits end; what with you Sir?

_Enter_ Messenger _with a Letter_.

_Mess._ Letters from warlike _Pelius_.

_King._ Yet more troubles?
The _Spartans_ are in Arms, and like to win all:
Supplies are sent for, and the General;
This is more cross than t'other; come let's to him,
For he must have her, 'tis necessity,
Or we must lose our honours, let's plead all,
For more than all is needful, shew all reason
If love can hear o' that side, if she yield
We have fought best, and won the noblest field. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Eumenes, _Captains_, Stremon.

_1 Cap._ I have brought the wench, a lusty wench,
And somewhat like the Princess.

_Eumen._ 'Tis the better, let's see her,
And go you in and tell him, that her Grace
Is come to visit him: how sleeps he _Stremon_?

_Stre._ He cannot, only thinks, and calls on _Polydor_,
Swears he will not be fool'd; sometimes he rages,
And sometimes sits and muses. [_Exit_ Stremon.

_Enter_ Whore, _and_ Captain.

_Eume._ He's past all help sure?
How do ye like her?

_2 Capt._ By th' mass a good round Virgin,
And at first sight resembling, she is well cloath'd too.

_Eume._ But is she sound?

_2 Cap._ Of wind and limb, I warrant her.

_Eume._ You are instructed Lady?

_Who._ Yes, and know, Sir,
How to behave my self, ne're fear.

_Eume._ _Polybius_,
Where did he get this Vermin?

_1 Capt._ Hang him Badger,
There's not a hole free from him, whores and whores mates
Do all pay him obedience.

_Eume._ Indeed i'th' War,
His quarter was all Whore, Whore upon Whore,
And lin'd with Whore; beshrew me 'tis a fair Whore.

_1 Capt._ She has smockt away her blood; but fair or foul,
Or blind or lame, that can but lift her leg up,
Comes not amiss to him, he rides like a night Mare,
All Ages, all Religions.

_Eume._ Can ye state it?

_Who._ I'le make a shift.

_Eume._ He must lie with ye, Lady.

_Who._ Let him, [h]e's not the first man I have lain with,
Nor shall not be the last.

_Enter_ Memnon.

_2 Capt._ He comes, no more words,
She has her lesson throughly; how he views her!

_Eumen._ Go forward now, so, bravely, stand!

_Mem._ Great Lady,
How humbly I am bound--

_Who._ You shall not kneel, Sir,
Come, I have done you wrong; stand my Souldier,
And thus I make amends-- [_Kisses him._

_Eumen._ A Plague confound ye,
Is this your state?

_2 Capt._ 'Tis well enough.

_Mem._ O Lady,
Your Royal hand, your hand my dearest beauty
Is more than I must purchase: here divine one,
I dare revenge my wrongs: ha?

_1 Capt._ A damn'd foul one.

_Eume._ The Lees of Baudy prewns: mourning Gloves?
All spoil'd by Heaven.

_Mem._ Ha! who art thou?

_2 Capt._ A shame on ye,
Ye clawing scabby Whore.

_Mem._ I say, who art thou?

_Eumen._ Why 'tis the Princess, Sir.

_Mem._ The Devil, Sir,
'Tis some Roguey thing.

_Who._ If this abuse be love, Sir,
Or I that laid aside my modesty--

_Eumen._ So far thou't never find it.

_Mem._ Do not weep,
For if ye be the Princess, I will love ye,
Indeed I will, and honour ye, fight for ye,
Come, wipe your eyes; by Heaven she stinks; who art thou?
Stinks like a poyson'd Rat behind a hanging?
Woman, who art? like a rotten Cabbage.

_2 Capt._ Y'are much to blame, Sir, 'tis the Princess.

_Mem._ How?
She the Princess?

_Eumen._ And the loving Princess.

_1 Capt._ Indeed the doating Princess.

_Mem._ Come hither once more,
The Princess smells like mornings breath, pure Amber,
Beyond the courted _Indies_ in her spices.
Still a dead Rat by Heaven; thou a Princess?

_Eumen._ What a dull Whore is this!

_Mem._ I'le tell ye presently,
For if she be a Princess, as she may be
And yet stink too, and strongly, I shall find her;
Fetch the _Numidian_ Lyon I brought over,
If she be sprung from the Royal blood, the Lyon,
He'l do you reverence, else--

_Who._ I beseech your Lordship--

_Eumen._ He'l tear her all to pieces.

_Who._ I am no Princess, Sir.

_Mem._ Who brought thee hither?

_2 Capt._ If ye confess, we'll hang ye.

_Who._ Good my Lord--

_Mem._ Who art thou then?

_Who._ A poor retaining Whore, Sir,
To one of your Lordships Captains.

_Mem._ Alas poor Whore,
Go, be a Whore still, and stink worse: _Ha, ha, ha_. [_Ex._ Cloe.
What fools are these, and Coxcombs! [_Exit_ Memnon.

_Eumen._ I am right glad yet,
He takes it with such lightness.

_1 Cap._ Me thinks his face too
Is not so clouded as it was; how he looks!

_Eume._ Where's your dead Rat?

_2 Cap._ The Devil dine upon her
Loins; why what a Medicine had he gotten
To try a Whore!

_Enter_ Stremon.

_Stre._ Here's one from _Polydor_ stays to speak with ye.

_Eume._ With whom?

_Stre._ With all; where has the General been?
He's laughing to himself extreamly.

_Eumen._ Come,
I'le tell thee how; I am glad yet he's so merry. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Chilax _and Priestess_, Calis, _Lady and Nun_.

_Chi._ What lights are those that enter there, still nearer?
Plague o' your rotten itch, do you draw me hither
Into the Temple to betray me? was there no place
To satisfie your sin in? Gods forgive me,
Still they come forward.

_Priest._ Peace ye fool, I have found it,
'Tis the young Princess _Calis_.

_Chi._ 'Tis the Devil,
To claw us for our catterwawling.

_Priest._ Retire softly,
I did not look for you these two hours, Lady,
Beshrew your hast: that way. [_To_ Chilax.

_Chi._ That goes to the Altar!
Ye old blind Beast.

_Priest._ I know not, any way;
Still they come nearer,
I'le in to th' Oracle.

_Chi._ That's well remembred I'le in with ye.

_Priest._ Do. [_Exeunt Priest, and_ Chilax.

_Enter_ Calis _and her Train with lights, singing:_
Lucippe, Cleanthe.

SONG.

_O fair sweet Goddess Queen of Loves,_
_Soft and gentle, as thy Doves,_
_Humble ey'd, and ever ruing_
_Those poor hearts, their Loves pursuing:_
_O thou Mother of delights,_
_Crowner of all happy nights,_
_Star of dear content, and pleasure,_
_Of mutual loves the endless treasure,_
_Accept this sacrifice we bring,_
_Thou continual youth and Spring,_
_Grant this Lady her desires,_
_And every hour we'll crown thy fires._

Enter a Nun.

Nun. _You about her all retire,_
_Whilest the Princess feeds the fire,_
_When your Devotions ended be_
_To the Oracle I will attend ye._

[_Exit_ Nun and draws the Curtain close to _Calis_.

_Enter_ Stremon _and_ Eumenes.

_Strem._ He will abroad.

_Eumen._ How does his humour hold him?

_Stre._ He is now grown wondrous sad, weeps often too,
Talks of his Brother to himself, starts strangely.

_Eumen._ Does he not curse?

_Strem._ No.

_Eumen._ Nor break out in fury,
Offering some new attempt?

_Strem._ Neither; to th' Temple
Is all we hear of now: what there he will do--

_Eumen._ I hope repent his folly, let's be near him.

_Strem._ Where are the rest?

_Eumen._ About a business
Concerns him mainly, if Heav'n cure his madness,
He's made for ever, _Stremon_.

_Strem._ Does the King know it?

_Eumen._ Yes, and much troubled with it, he's now gone
To seek his Sister out.

_Strem._ Come let's away then. [_Exeunt_ Eumen. Strem. Cal.

_Enter Nun, she opens the Curtain to_ Calis.
Calis _at the Oracle._

_Nun._ Peace to your Prayers Lady, will it please ye
To pass on to the Oracle?

_Cal._ Most humbly. [Chilax _and Priest, in the Oracle_.

_Chi._ Do ye hear that?

_Priest._ Yes, lie close.

_Chi._ A wildfire take ye,
What shall become of me? I shall be hang'd now:
Is this a time to shake? a halter shake ye,
Come up and juggle, come.

_Priest._ I am monstrous fearful.

_Chi._ Up ye old gaping Oyster, up and answer;
A mouldy Mange upon your chops, ye told me
I was safe here till the Bell rung.

_Priest._ I was prevented,
And did not look these three hours for the Princess.

_Chi._ Shall we be taken?

_Priest._ Speak for loves sake, _Chilax_;
I cannot, nor I dare not.

_Chi._ I'le speak Treason, for I had as lieve be hang'd for that.

_Priest._ Good _Chilax_.

_Chi._ Must it be sung or said? what shall I tell 'em?
They are here; here now preparing.

_Priest._ O my Conscience!

_Chi._ Plague o' your spurgall'd Conscience, does it tire now?
Now when it should be tuffest? I could make thee--

_Priest._ Save us, we are both undone else.

_Chi._ Down ye Dog then,
Be quiet, and be stanch to no inundations.

_Nun._ Here kneel again, and _Venus_ grant your wishes.

Calis. _O Divine Star of Heaven,_
_Thou in power above the seven:_
_Thou sweet kindler of desires,_
_Till they grow to mutual fires:_
_Thou, O gentle Queen, that art_
_Curer of each wounded heart:_
_Thou the fuel, and the flame;_
_Thou in Heaven, and here the same:_
_Thou the wooer, and the woo'd:_
_Thou the hunger, and the food:_
_Thou the prayer, and the pray'd;_
_Thou what is, or shall be said:_
_Thou still young, and golden tressed,_
_Make me by thy Answer blessed._

_Chi._ When?

_Priest._ Now speak handsomly, and small by all means,
I have told ye what. [_Thunder._

_Chi._ But I'le tell you a new tale,
Now for my Neck-verse; I have heard thy prayers,
And mark me well.

_Musick._ Venus _descends_.

_Nun._ The Goddess is displeased much,
The temple shakes and totters; she appears,
Bow, Lady, bow.

Venus. _Purge me the Temple round,_
_And live by this example henceforth sound._
_Virgin, I have seen thy tears,_
_Heard thy wishes, and thy fears;_
_Thy holy Incense flew above,_
_Hark therefore to thy doom in Love;_
_Had thy heart been soft at first,_
_Now thou had'st allay'd thy thirst,_
_Had thy stubborn will but bended,_
_All thy sorrows here had ended;_
_Therefore to be just in Love,_
_A strange Fortune thou must prove,_
_And, for thou hast been stern and coy,_
_A dead Love thou shalt enjoy._

_Cal._ O gentle goddess!

_Ven._ Rise, thy doom is said,
And fear not, I will please thee with the dead. [Venus _ascends_.

_Nun._ Go up into the Temple and there end
Your holy Rites, the Goddess smiles upon ye. [_Exeunt_ Cal. _and_ Nun.

_Enter_ Chilax _in his Robe_.

_Chi._ I'll no more Oracles, nor Miracles,
Nor no more Church work, I'll be drawn and hang'd first.
Am not I torn a pieces with the thunder?
Death, I can scarce believe I live yet,
It gave me on the buttocks, a cruel, a huge bang,
I had as lieve ha' had 'em scratcht with Dog-whips:
Be quiet henceforth, now ye feel the end on't,
I would advise ye my old friends, the good Gentlewoman
Is strucken dumb, and there her Grace sits mumping
Like an old Ape eating a Brawn; sure the good Goddess
Knew my intent was honest, to save the Princess,
And how we young men are entic'd to wickedness,
By these lewd Women, I had paid for't else too.
I am monstrous holy now, and cruel fearful,
O 'twas a plaguey thump, charg'd with a vengeance.

_Enter_ Siphax, _walks softly over the stage, and goes in_.

Would I were well at home; the best is, 'tis not day:
Who's that? ha? _Siphax!_ I'll be with you anon, Sir;
Ye shall be oracled I warrant ye,
And thunder'd too, as well as I; your Lordship

_Enter_ Memnon, Eumenes, Stremon, _and two carrying Torches_.

Must needs enjoy the Princess, yes: ha! Torches?
And _Memnon_ coming this way? he's Dog-mad,
And ten to one appearing thus unto him,
He worries me, I must go by him.

_Eum._ Sir?

_Mem._ Ask me no further questions; what art thou?
How dost thou stare! stand off; nay look upon me,
I do not shake, nor fear thee-- [_Draws his Sword._

_Chi._ He will kill me,
This is for Church work.

_Mem._ Why dost thou appear now?
Thou wert fairly slain: I know thee, _Diocles_,
And know thine envy to mine honour: but--

_Chi._ Stay _Memnon_,
I am a Spirit, and thou canst not hurt me.

_Eum._ This is the voice of _Chilax_.

_Strem._ What makes him thus?

_Chi._ 'Tis true, that I was slain in field, but foully,
By multitudes, not manhood: therefore mark me,
I do appear again to quit mine honour,
And on thee single.

_Mem._ I accept the challenge.
Where?

_Chi._ On the Stygian Banks.

_Mem._ When?

_Chi._ Four days hence.

_Mem._ Go noble Ghost, I will attend.

_Chi._ I thank ye.

_Stre._ Ye have sav'd your throat, and handsomly:
Farewel, Sir. [_Exit_ Chilax.

_Mem._ Sing me the Battles of _Pelusium_,
In which this Worthy dyed.

_Eum._ This will spoil all, and make him worse
Than e'r he was: sit down, Sir,
And give your self to rest.

SONG.

_Arm, arm, arm, arm, the Scouts are all come in,_
_Keep your Ranks close, and now your honours win._
_Behold from yonder Hill, the Foe appears,_
_Bows, Bills, Glaves, Arrows, Shields, and Spears,_
_Like a dark Wood he comes, or tempest pouring;_
_O view the Wings of Horse the Meadows scowring,_
_The vant-guard marches bravely, hark, the Drums_--dub, dub.
_They meet, they meet, and now the Battel comes:_
_See how the Arrows fly,_
_That darken all the Skye;_
_Hark how the Trumpets sound,_
_Hark how the Hills rebound._--Tara, tara, tara.
_Hark how the Horses charge: in Boys, Boys in_--tara, tara.
_The Battel totters; now the wounds begin;_
_O how they cry,_
_O how they dy!_
_Room for the valiant _Memnon_ arm'd with thunder,_
_See how he breaks the Ranks asunder:_
_They flye, they flye, _Eumenes_ has the Chace,_
_And brave _Polybius_ makes good his place._
_To the Plains, to the Woods,_
_To the Rocks, to the Floods,_
_They flie for succour: Follow, follow, follow,_ Hey, hey.
_Hark how the Souldiers hollow
_Brave _Diocles_ is dead,_
_And all his Souldiers fled,_
_The Battel's won, and lost,_
_That many a life hath cost._

_Mem._ Now forward to the Temple. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Chilax.

_Chi._ Are ye gone?
How have I 'scap'd this morning! by what miracle!
Sure I am ordain'd for some brave end.

_Enter_ Cloe.

_Clo._ How is it?

_Chi._ Come, 'tis as well as can be.

_Clo._ But is it possible
This should be true you tell me?

_Chi._ 'Tis most certain.

_Clo._ Such a gross Ass to love the Princess?

_Chi._ Peace,
Pull your Robe close about ye: you are perfect
In all I taught ye?

_Cl[o]._ Sure.

_Chi._ Gods give thee good luck.
'Tis strange my Brains should still be beating Knavery
For all these dangers, but they are needful mischiefs,
And such are Nuts to me; and I must do 'em.
You will remember me--

_Clo._ By this kiss, _Chilax_.

_Chi._ No more of that, I fear another thunder.

_Clo._ We are not i'th' Temple, man.

_Enter_ Siphax.

_Chi._ Peace, here he comes,
Now to our business handsomly; away now. [_Ex._ Chilax, _and_ Cloe.

_Si._ 'Twas sure the Princess, for he kneel'd unto her,
And she lookt every way: I hope the Oracle
Has made me happy; me I hope she lookt for,

_Enter_ Chilax, _and_ Cloe _at the other door_.

Fortune, I will so honour thee, Love, so adore thee.
She is here again, looks round about her, again too,
'Tis done, I know 'tis done; 'tis _Chilax_ with her,
And I shall know of him; who's that?

_Chi._ Speak softly,
The Princess from the Oracle.

_Si._ She views me,
By Heaven she beckons me.

_Chi._ Come near, she wou'd have ye.

_Si._ O royal Lady. [_Kisses her hand._

_Chi._ She wills ye read that, for belike she's bound to silence
For such a time; she is wondrous gracious to ye.

_Si._ Heav'n make me thankful.

_Chi._ She would have ye read it. [_He reads._

_Si._ _Siphax_, the will of Heaven hath cast me on thee
To be thy Wife, whose Will must be obey'd:
Use me with honour, I shall love thee dearly,
And make thee understand thy worths hereafter;
Convey me to a secret Ceremony,
That both our hearts and loves may be united,
And use no Language, till before my Brother
We both appear, where I will shew the Oracle,
For till that time I am bound, I must not answer.

_Si._ O happy I!

_Chi._ Ye are a made man.

_Si._ But _Chilax_,
Where are her Women?

_Chi._ None but your Graces Sister,
Because she would have it private to the World yet,
Knows of this business.

_Si._ I shall thank thee, _Chilax_,
Thou art a careful man.

_Chi._ Your Graces Servant.

_Si._ I'll find a fit place for thee.

_Chi._ If you will not,
There's a good Lady will, she points ye forward,
Away and take your fortune; not a word, Sir:
So, you are greas'd I hope. [_Ex._ Si. _and_ Cloe, _manet_ Chilax.

_Enter_ Stremon, _Fool, and Boy_.

_Chi._ _Stremon_, Fool, _Picus_,
Where have you left your Lord?

_Strem._ I' th' Temple, _Chilax_.

_Chi._ Why are ye from him?

_Strem._ Why, the King is with him,
And all the Lords.

_Chi._ Is not the Princess there too?

_Strem._ Yes.
And the strangest Coil amongst 'em; She weeps bitterly:
The King entreats, and frowns, my Lord like Autumn
Drops off his hopes by handfulls, all the Temple
Sweats with this Agony.

_Chi._ Where's young _Polydore_?

_Strem._ Dead, as they said, o' th' sudden.

_Chi._ Dead?

_Strem._ For certain,
But not yet known abroad.

_Chi._ There's a new trouble,
A brave young man he was; but we must all dye.

_Strem._ Did not the General meet you this morning
Like a tall Stallion Nun?

_Chi._ No more o' that, Boy.

_Strem._ You had been ferretting.

_Chi._ That's all one, Fool;
My Master Fool that taught my wits to traffick,
What has your Wisedom done? how have you profited?
Out with your Audit: come, you are not empty,
Put out mine eye with twelve-pence? do you shaker?
What think you of this shaking? here's wit, Coxcomb,
Ha Boys? ha my fine Rascals, here's a Ring, { _Pulls out
How right they go! { a Purse._

_Fool._ O let me ring the fore Bell.

[_Chi._] And here are thumpers, Chiqueens, golden rogues,
Wit, wit, ye Rascals.

_Fool._ I have a Stye here, _Chilax_.

_Chi._ I have no Gold to cure it, not a penny,
Not one cross, Cavalier; we are dull Souldiers,
Gross heavy-headed fellows; fight for Victuals?

_Fool._ Why, ye are the Spirits of the time.

_Chi._ By no means.

_Fool._ The valiant firie.

_Chi._ Fie, fie, no.

_Fool._ Be-lee me, Sir.

_Chi._ I wou'd I cou'd, Sir.

_Fool._ I will satisfie ye.