_Pro._ If wearing it may do you any honor, I shall be glad to grace you, there it is Sir. _Mart._ Now get you home, and tell your Lady Mistris, Shee has shot up a sweet mushrum; quit your place too, And say you are counsel'd well, thou wilt be beaten else By thine own lanceprisadoes; when they know thee, That tuns of oyl of roses will not cure thee; Goe get you to your foyning work at Court, And learn to sweat again, and eat dry mutton; An armor like a frost will search your bones And make you roar you rogue; Not a reply, For if you doe, your ears goe off. _Prot._ Still patience. [_Exeunt._ [_Loud musick, A Banquet set out._ _Enter Thierry, Ordella, Brunhalt, Theodoret, Lecure,_ _Bawd[b]er, &c._ _Thier._ It is your place, and though in all things else You may and ever shall command me, yet In this I'll be obeyed. _Ordella._ Sir, the consent, That made me yours, shall never teach me to Repent I am so; yet be you but pleas'd To give me leave to say so much; The honor You offer me were better given to her, To whom you owe the power of giving. _Thier._ Mother, You hear this and rejoyce in such a blessing That payes to you so large a share of duty, But fie no more, for as you hold a place Nearer my heart than she, you must sit nearest To all those graces, that are in the power Of Majesty to bestow. _Brun._ Which I'll provide, Shall be short liv'd _Lecure_. _Lecure._ I have it ready. _Brun._ 'Tis well, wait on our cup. _Lecure._ You honor me. _Thier._ We are dull, No object to provoke mirth. _Theod. Martell_, If you remember Sir, will grace your Feast, With some thing that will yield matter of mirth, Fit for no common view. _Thier._ Touching _Protaldye_. _Theod._ You have it. _Brun._ What of him? I fear his baseness [_aside._ In spight of all the titles that my favours Have cloth'd him, which will make discovery Of what is yet conceal'd. _Enter Martell._ _Theod._ Look Sir, he has it, Nay we shall have peace when so great a soldier As the renoun'd _P[ro]taldye_, will give up His sword rather then use it. _Brun._ 'Twas thy plot, Which I will turn on thine own head. [_aside._ _Thie._ Pray you speak, How won you him to part from't?