+San.+ O, no more prologue! Prythee, the first scene: To the business, man. +Sol.+ Then I must tell your lordship, I scorn that wealth makes you thus wanton, and That wit which fools you. Did the royal favour Shine but on you, without enlarging warmth To any other, I in this torn outside Should laugh at you, if insolent. +San.+ This is saucy. +Sol.+ I tell thee, petulant lord, I'll cut thy throat, Unless thou learn more honour. +San.+ What shall I do? _Enter +Floriana+ and +Cleantha+._ But see Cleantha! Not to be made Grandee, Would I she should discover me in parley With such coarse clothes. There, fellow, take that gold, And let me see thy face no more. Away! +Sol.+ There 'tis again. I will not owe one hour [_Throws back the money._ Of mirth to such a bounty: I can starve At easier rate, than live beholden to The boast of any giver. Lord! I scorn Thee, and that gold which first created thee. [_Exit +Soldier+._ +Flo.+ That soldier seem'd to carry anger in His look, my lord. +San.+ What should his anger move me? +Cle.+ O no, my lord: the world speaks wonders of Your mighty puissance. +Flo.+ 'Tis my joy y'are safe. But why adventured you into this quarrel?[277] +Cle.+ The queen will hardly thank your valour, since They of Castile profess'd themselves her soldiers. +San.+ The queen must pardon courage; men who are Of daring spirit, so they may but fight, Examine not the cause. +Flo.+ She doth expect us. [_Exit._ +Cle.+ I will attend her here, for here she gives Decastro audience. I must not lose This lord yet, it so near concerns my mirth. +San.+ Madam, I wonder with what confidence You, after such an injury, dare endanger Discourse with me. +Cle.+ I injure you, my lord, Whose favour I have courted with more zeal Than well my sex can warrant; triumph not Too much upon my weakness, 'cause you have Got victory o'er my heart; take not delight To make my grief your sport. +San.+ Be witty still, And keep me for a trophy of your pride. I hope to see that beauty at an ebb; Where will be then your overflow of servants? You'll then repent your pride. +Cle.+ O never, never; If you'll particularise your vows to me-- You, who to th' title of the courtly lord Have added that of valiant; and beshrew me, She's no good housewife of her fame that wants A daring servant. +San.+ This perhaps may work. [_Aside._ +Cle.+ If she live single, he preserves her name, And scarce admits a whisper that the jealous May construe points at her; and if she marry, He awes the husband, if by chance or weakness She have offended.