Get you about your business to _Arbaces_, now you talk idlely. _Lyg_. Yes Sir, I will go, and shall she be a Queen? she had more wit than her old Father, when she ran away: shall she be Queen? now by my troth 'tis fine, I'le dance out of all measure at her wedding: shall I not Sir? _Tigr_. Yes marry shalt thou. _Lyg_. I'le make these withered kexes bear my body two hours together above ground. _Tigr_. Nay go, my business requires hast. _Lyg_. Good Heaven preserve you, you are an excellent King. _Spa_. Farwell good Father. _Lyg_. Farwell sweet vertuous Daughter, I never was so joyfull in all my life, that I remember: shall she be a Queen? Now I perceive a man may weep for joy, I had thought they had lyed that said so. [_Exit_ Lygones. _Tigr_. Come my dear love. _Spa_. But you may see another may alter that again. _Tigr_. Urge it no more, I have made up a new strong constancy, not to be shook with eyes: I know I have the passions of a man, but if I meet with any subject that should hold my eyes more firmly than is fit, I'le think of thee, and run away from it: let that suffice. [_Exeunt all_. _Enter_ Bacurius _And his Servant_. _Bac_. Three Gentlemen without to speak with me? _Ser_. Yes Sir. _Bac_. Let them come in. _Enter_ Bessus _with the two Sword-men_. _Ser_. They are entred Sir already. _Bac_. Now fellows your business? are these the Gentlemen? _Bes_. My Lord, I have made bold to bring these Gentlemen, my friends o'th' Sword along with me. _Bac_. I am afraid you'l fight then. _Bes_. My good Lord, I will not, your Lordship is much mistaken, fear not Lord. _Bac_. Sir, I am sorry for't. _Bes_. I ask no more in honour, Gentlemen you hear my Lord is sorry. _Bac_. Not that I have beaten you, but beaten one that will be beaten: one whose dull body will require a laming, as Surfeits do the diet, spring and fall; now to your Sword-men; what come they for, good Captain Stock-fish? _Bes_. It seems your Lordship has forgot my name. _Bac_. No, nor your nature neither, though they are things fitter I must confess for any thing, than my remembrance, or any honest mans: what shall these Billets do; be pil'd up in my wood-yard? _Bes_. Your Lordship holds your mirth still, Heaven continue it: but for these Gentlemen, they come-- _Bac_. To swear you are a Coward, spare your book, I do believe it. _Bes_. Your Lordship still draws wide, they come to vouch under their valiant hands I am no Coward. _Bac_.