_Mem._ 'Tis but to dye, Dogs do it, Ducks with dabling, Birds sing away their Souls, & Babies sleep 'em, Why do I talk of that is treble vantage? For in the other World she is bound to have me; Her Princely word is past: my great desert too Will draw her to come after presently, 'Tis justice, and the gods must see it done too. Besides, no Brother, Father, Kindred there Can hinder us, all languages are alike too. There love is everlasting, ever young, Free from Diseases, ages, jealousies, Bawds, Beldames, Painters, Purgers: dye? 'tis nothing, Men drown themselves for joy to draw in Juleps When they are hot with Wine: In dreams we do it. And many a handsom Wench that loves the sport well, Gives up her Soul so in her Lovers bosome; But I must be incis'd first, cut and open'd, My heart, and handsomely, ta'n from me; stay there, Dead once, stay, let me think again, who do I know there? For else to wander up and down unwaited on And unregarded in my place and project, Is for a Sowters Soul, not an old Souldiers. My brave old Regiments--I there it goes, That have been kill'd before me, right.-- _Enter_ Chilax. _Chil._ He's here, and I must trouble him. _Mem._ Then those I have conquer'd To make my train full. _Chi._ Sir. _Mem._ My Captains then-- _Chi._ Sir, I beseech ye. _Mem._ For to meet her there Being a Princess and a Kings sole Sister With great accommodation must be cared for. _Chi._ Weigh but the Souldiers poverty. _Mem._ Mine own Troop first For they shall die. _Chi._ How, what's this? _Mem._ Next-- _Chi._ Shall I speak louder, Sir? _Mem._ A square Battalia-- _Chi._ You do not think of us. _Mem._ Their Armours gilded-- _Chi._ Good noble Sir. _Mem._ And round about such Engines Shall make Hell shake. _Chi._ Ye do not mock me. _Mem._ For, Sir, I will be strong, as brave-- _Chi._ Ye may consider, You know we have serv'd you long enough. _Mem._ No Souldier That ever landed on the blest _Elyzium_ Did or shall march, as I will. _Chi._ Would ye would march, Sir, Up to the King and get us-- _Mem._ King nor _Keiser_ Shall equal me in that world. _Chi._ What a Devil ails he? _Mem._ Next, the rare beauties of those Towns I fir'd. _Chi._ I speak of money, Sir. _Mem._ Ten thousand Coaches-- _Chi._ O pounds, Sir, pounds I beseech your Lordship, Let Coaches run out of your remembrance. _Mem._ In which the wanton _Cupids_, and the Graces Drawn with the Western winds kindling desires, And then our Poets-- _Chi._ Then our pay. _Mem._ For _Chilax_ when the triumph comes; the Princess Then, for I will have a Heaven made-- _Chi._ Bless your Lordship! Stand still, Sir. _Mem._ So I do, and in it-- _Chi._ Death Sir, You talk you know not what. _Mem._ Such rare devices: Make me I say a Heaven. _Chi._ I say so too, Sir. _Mem._ For here shall run a Constellation.