_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 Sagb.u.t.ts_ _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 G.o.ds 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 n.o.ble heart Of him that was the n.o.blest: see and glory (Like the proud G.o.d himself) in what thou hast purchas'd, Behold the heart of _Memnon_: does it start ye?

_Cal._ Good G.o.ds, 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 s.e.x, 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 sh.o.r.es 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 G.o.ds 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 pa.s.sion can bewitch souls? stay.

_Eumen._ Upon my life she loves him.

_Calis._ Pray stay.