[Enter _Leon_, and _Juan_, with a commission.] Leon: Coronel, I am bound to you for this nobleness, I should have been your officer, 'tis true Sir, And a proud man I should have been to have serv'd you, 'T has pleas'd the King out of his boundless favours, To make me your companion, this commission Gives me a troop of horse. Juan de Castro: I do rejoyce at it, And am a glad man we shall gain your company, I am sure the King knows you are newly married, And out of that respect gives you more time Sir. Leon: Within four daies I am gone, so he commands me, And 'tis not mannerly for me to argue it, The time grows shorter still, are your goods ready? 215] Juan de Castro: They are aboard. Leon: Who waits there? [Enter _Servant_.] Servant: Sir. Leon: Do you hear ho, go carry this unto your Mistris Sir, And let her see how much the King has honour'd me, Bid her be lusty, she must make a Souldier. [Exit. [Enter _Lorenzo_.] Lorenzo: Sir, Go take down all the hangings, And pack up all my cloths, my plate and Jewels, And all the furniture that's portable, Sir when we lye in garrison, 'tis necessary We keep a handsom port, for the Kings honour; And do you hear, let all your Ladies wardrobe Be safely plac'd in trunks, they must along too. Lorenzo: Whither must they goe Sir? Leon: To the wars, _Lorenzo_, And you and all, I will not leave a turn-spit, That has one dram of spleen against a Dutchman. Lorenzo: Why then _St Jaques_ hey, you have made us all Sir, And if we leave ye--does my Lady goe too? Leon: The stuff must goe to morrow towards the sea Sir, All, all must goe. Lorenzo: Why _Pedro_, _Vasco_, _Dego_, Come help me, come come boys, soldadocs, comrades, We'l fley these beer-bellied rogues, come away quickly. [Exit. Juan de Castro: H'as taken a brave way to save his honour, And cross the Duke, now I shall love him dearly, By the life of credit thou art a noble Gentleman. [Enter _Margarita_, led by two Ladies.] Leon: Why how now wife, what, sick at my preferment? This is not kindly done. Margarita: No sooner love ye, Love ye intirely Sir, brought to consider The goodness of your mind and mine own duty, But lose you instantly, be divorc'd from ye? 216] This is a cruelty, I'le to the King And tell him 'tis unjust to part two souls, Two minds so nearly mixt. Leon: By no means sweet heart. Margarita: If he were married but four daies as I am. Leon: He would hang himself the fifth, or fly his Country. Margarita: