_Const_. If their testimonie will not satisfie, here my Title: At this place, in this time, and upon this occasion I am Prince over these Publicans, Lord over these Larroones,[147] Regent of these Rugs,[148] Viceroy over these Vagabonds, King of these Caterpillars; and indeed, being a Constable, directly Soveraigne over these my Subiects. 2 _Off_. If all these stiles, so hard to climbe over, belong to the office of a Constable, what kin is he to the Divell? _Const_. Why to the Devill, my friend? _Clown_. Ile tell you: because a Constable is King of Nights and the other is Prince of Darknesse. _Const_. Darke as it is, by the twilight of my Lanthorne methinks I see a company of Woodcocks. _2 Off_. How can you discerne them? _Enter Epidophorus, Victoria and Bellina_. _Clown_. Oh excellent well, by their bills: see, see, here comes the Lieutenant. _Epi_. Well sayd, my friends: you keep good watch, I see. _Clown_. Yes, Sir, we Officers have breath as strong as Garlick: no Christian by their good wills dare come neare us. _Epi_. 'Tis well, forbeare.-- Oh, Madam, had you scene with what a vehemency He did blaspheme the gods, Like to a man pearcht on some lofty Spire Amazed which way to relieve himselfe, You would have stood, as did the King, amaz'd. _Vict_. God grant him liberty, And with that give us privacy; I doubt not But our sweet conference shall work much on him. _Epi_. _Iove_ grant it: Ile leave the roome. [_Exit Epi_. _Clown_. A Iaylor seldome lookes for a bribe but hee's prevented. [_Exeunt Officers_. _Enter Bellizarius in his night-gown, with Epidophorus_. _Epi_. My Lord, your Lady and her most beauteous daughter Are come to visit you, and here attend. _Belliz_. My Wife and Daughter? oh welcome, love, And blessing Crowne thee, my beloved _Bellina_. _Vict_. My Lord, pray leave us. _Epi_. Your will be your owne Law. [_Exit Epidoph_. _Vict_. Why study you, my Lord? why is your eye fixt On your _Bellina_ more than on me? _Belliz_. Good, excellent good: What pretty showes our fancies represent us! My faire _Bellina_ shines like to an Angel; Has such a brightnesse in her Christall eyes That even the radiancy duls my sight. See, my _Victoria_, lookes she not sweetly? _Vict_. Shee does, my Lord; but not much better than she was wont. _Belliz_. Oh shee but beginnes to shine as yet, But will I hope ere long be stellified. Alas, my _Victoria_, thou look'st nothing like her. _Vict_. Not like her? why, my Lord? _Belliz_. Marke and Ile tell thee how: Thou art too much o'er growne with sinne and shame, Hast pray'd too much, offered too much devotion To him and those that can nor helpe nor hurt, Which my _Bellina_ has not: Her yeares in sinne are not, as thine are, old; Therefore me thinks she's fairer farre than thou. _Vict_. I, my Lord, guided by you and by your precepts, Have often cal'd on _Iupiter_.