_Ronver._ We shall hear, For such a search I have sent, to hunt the Traytors. _Fer._ Yet better men I say, we stand too open: How now _Castruchio_? how do you like our glory? _Cast._ I must confess, 'twas somewhat more than my match Sir; This open glory agrees not with my body, But if it were i'th' Castle, or some strength, Where I might have my swinge. _Vil._ You have been swing'd brother; How these delights have tickled you! you itch yet? Will you walk out again in pomp? _Cast._ Good Fool. _Vil._ These rogues must be rebuked, they are too sawcy, These peremptory Knaves. Will you walk out Sir, And take the remnant of your Coronation? The people stay to see it. _Fer._ Do not vex him, H'as grief enough in's bones; you shall to the Citadel, And like my self command, there use your pleasure, But take heed to your person. _Vil._ The more danger, Still the more honor Brother. _Cast._ If I reign not then, And like a King, and thou shalt know it fool, And thou shalt feel it fool. _Vil._ Fools still are freemen, I'll sue for a protection, till thy reign's out. _Fer._ The people have abus'd the liberty I late allow'd, I now proclaim it straighter, No men shall walk together nor salute; For they that do shall dye. _Ronver._ You hit the right Sir; That liberty cut off, you are free from practise. _Fer._ Renew my guards. _Ronver._ I shall. _Fer._ And keep strict watches; One hour of joy I ask. _Ron._ You shall have many. [_Exeunt Flor. Cor._ Pandulfo _and_ Juliana, _led by two of the guard,_ _as not yet fully recovered._ _1. Guard._ You are now at liberty, in your own house Lady, And here our charge takes end. _Pand._ 'Tis now a Custom. We must even wooe those men deserve worst of us, And so we thank your labors; there's to drink, For that, and mischief are your occupations; And to mean well to no man, your chief'st harvests. _2. Gard._ You give liberally; we hope Sir, er't be long, To be oftner acquainted with your bounty, And so we leave you. _Pand._ Do, for I dote not on ye. _Jul._ But where's my Husband? what should I do here? Or what share have I in this joy, call'd liberty, Without his company? Why did you flatter me, And tell me he was return'd, his service honor'd? _1 Gard._ He is so, and stands high in the Kings favor, His friends redeemed, and his own liberty, From which yours is deriv'd, confirm'd; his service, To his own wish, rewarded: so fare-well Lady. [_Ex. Guard._ _Pand._ Go persecute the good, and hunt ye hell-hounds, Ye Leeches of the time, suck till ye burst slaves; How does my girl? _Jul._ Weak yet, but full of comfort. _Pand._ Sit down, and take some rest.