_Gob_.
Nay should I joyn with you, should we not both be torn and yet
both die uncredited?
_ Ara_.
I think we should.
_Gob_.
Why then take you such violent courses? As for me I do but right
in saving of the King from all your plots.
_ Ara_.
The King?
_Gob_.
I bad you rest with patience, and a time
Would come for me to reconcile all to
Your own content, but by this way you take
Away my power, and what was done unknown,
Was not by me but you: your urging being done
I must preserve my own, but time may bring
All this to light, and happily for all.
_ Ara_.
Accursed be this over curious brain
That gave that plot a birth, accurst this womb
That after did conceive to my disgrace.
_Bac_.
My Lord Protector, they say there are divers Letters come from
_Armenia_, that _Bessus_ has done good service, and brought again
a day, by his particular valour, receiv'd you any to that effect?
_Gob_.
Yes, 'tis most certain.
_Bac_.
I'm sorry for't, not that the day was won,
But that 'twas won by him: we held him here
A Coward, he did me wrong once, at which I laugh'd,
And so did all the world, for nor I,
Nor any other held him worth my sword.
_Enter_ Bessus _and_ Spaconia.
_Bes_.
Health to my Protector; from the King
These Letters; and to your grace Madam, these.
_Gob_.
How does his Majesty?
_Bes_.
As well as conquest by his own means and his valiant
C[o]mmanders can make him; your letters will tell you all.
_Pan_.
I will not open mine till I do know
My Brothers health: good Captain is he well?
_Bes_.
As the rest of us that fought are.
_Pan_.
But how's that? is he hurt?
_Bes_.
He's a strange souldier that gets not a knock.
_Pan_.
I do not ask how strange that souldier is
That gets no hurt, but whether he have one.
_Bes_.
He had divers.
_Pan_.
And is he well again?
_Bes_.
Well again, an't please your Grace: why I was run twice through
the body, and shot i'th' head with a cross-arrow, and yet am well
again.
_Pan_.