_Bur._ You have shew'd the Prince his faults; And like a good Surgeon you have laid That to 'em makes 'em smart; he feels it, Let 'em not fester now, Sir; your own honour, The bounty of that mind, and your allegiance, 'Gainst which I take it, Heaven gives no Command, Sir, Nor seals no Vow, can better teach ye now What ye have to do, than I, or this necessity; Only this little's left; would ye do nobly, And in the Eye of Honour truly triumph? Conquer that mind first, and then men are nothing. _Alin._ Last, a poor Virgin kneels; for loves sake General, If ever you have lov'd; for her sake, Sir, For your own honesty, which is a Virgin, Look up, and pity us, be bold and fortunate, You are a Knight, a good and noble Souldier, And when your Spurs were given ye, your Sword buckl'd, Then were you sworn for Vertues Cause, for Beauties, For Chastity to strike; strike now, they suffer; Now draw your Sword, or else you are recreant, Only a Knight i'th' Heels, i'th' Heart a Coward; Your first Vow honour made, your last but anger. _Ar._ How like my vertuous Wife this thing looks, speaks too? So would she chide my dulness: fair one, I thank ye. My gracious Sir, your pardon, next your hand: Madam, your favour, and your prayers: Gentlemen, Your wishes, and your loves: and pretty sweet one, A favour for your Souldier. _Olymp._ Give him this, Wench. _Alin._ Thus do I tye on Victory. _Arc._ My Armour, My Horse, my Sword, my tough Staff, and my Fortune, And _Olin_ now I come to shake thy glory. _Du._ Go, brave and prosperous, our loves go with thee. _Olymp._ Full of thy vertue, and our Prayers attend thee. _Bur. &c._ Loaden with Victory, and we to honour thee. _Alin._ Come home the Son of Honour, And I'll serve ye. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._ _Enter Duke_, Burris, _and two Gentlemen_. _Duke._ No news of _Archas_ yet? _Bur._ But now, and't please ye, A Post came in, Letters he brought none with him, But this deliver'd: He saw the Armies join, The game of Blood begun, and by our General, Who never was acquainted but with Conquest, So bravely fought, he saw the _Tartars_ shaken, And there he said he left 'em. _Du._ Where's _Boroskie_? _1 Gent._ He's up again, and't please ye. _Bur._ Sir, methinks This News should make ye lightsome, bring joy to ye, It strikes our hearts with general Comfort. [_Exit Duke._ Gone? What should this mean, so suddenly? He's well? _2 Gent._ We see no other. _1 Gent._ Would the rest were well too, That put these starts into him. _Bur._ I'll go after him. _2 Gent._ 'Twill not be fit, Sir: h'as some secret in him He would not be disturb'd in: know you any thing Has crost him since the General went?