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.
_Chi._ But I will not content you; alas poor Boy,
Thou shew'st an honest Nature, weepst for thy Master,
There's a red Rogue to buy thee Handkerchiefs.
_Fool._ He was an honest Gentleman, I have lost too.
_Chi._ You have indeed your labour, Fool; but _Stremon_,
Dost thou want money too? no Vertue living?
No firking out at fingers ends?
_Strem._ It seems so.
_Chi._ Will ye all serve me?
_Strem._ Yes, when ye are Lord General,
For less I will not go.
_Chi._ There's Gold for thee then,
Thou hast a Souldiers mind. Fool--
_Fool._ Here, your first man.