_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 n.o.bly.

_1 Lord._ In both bloods truly n.o.ble.

_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 G.o.ds 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 n.o.ble 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 a.s.sure 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 G.o.ds 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 n.o.blest field. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Eumenes, _Captains_, Stremon.

_1 Cap._ I have brought the wench, a l.u.s.ty 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_ Wh.o.r.e, _and_ Captain.

_Eume._ He's past all help sure?

How do ye like her?

_2 Capt._ By th' ma.s.s 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, wh.o.r.es and wh.o.r.es mates Do all pay him obedience.

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

_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!