_Stre._ Something shall be done Shall make him understand all; let's toth' Tavern, I have some few Crowns left yet: my whistle wet once I'le pipe him such a Paven-- _Chi._ Hold thy head up, I'le cure it with a quart of wine; come Coxcomb, Come Boy take heed of Napkins. _Fool._ Youl'd no more acting? _Chi._ No more Chicken. _Fool._ Go then. [_Exeunt omnes._ _Enter_ Siphax _at one door, and a Gentleman at the other_. _Si._ God save you Sir; pray how might I see the Princess? _Gent._ Why very fitly, Sir, she's even now ready To walk out this way intoth' Park; stand there, Ye cannot miss her sight, Sir. _Si._ I much thank ye. [_Exit Gentleman._ _Enter_ Calis, Lucippe, _and_ Cleanthe. _Cal._ Let's have a care, for I'le assure ye Wenches I wou'd not meet him willingly again; For though I do not fear him, yet his fashion I wou'd not be acquainted much with. _Cle._ Gentle Lady, Ye need not fear, the walks are view'd and empty, But me thinks, Madam, this kind heart of his-- _Lucip._ He's slow a coming. _Si._ Keep me ye blest Angels, What killing power is this? _Cal._ Why, dost thou look for't? Dost think he spoke in earnest? _Lucip._ Methinks, Madam, A Gentleman should keep his word; and to a Lady, A Lady of your excellencies. _Cal._ Out Fool! Send me his heart? what should we do with't? dance it? _Lucip._ Dry it and drink it for the Worms. _Cal._ Who's that? What man stands there? _Clean._ Where? _Cal._ There. _Cle._ A Gentleman, Which I beseech your grace to honour so much, As know him for your servants Brother. _Cal._ _Siphax?_ _Cle._ The same an't please your grace; what does he here? Upon what business? and I ignorant? _Cal._ He's grown a handsome Gentleman: good _Siphax_ Y'are welcome from the Wars; wou'd ye with us, Sir? Pray speak your will: he blushes, be not fearfull, I can assure ye for your Sisters sake, Sir, There's my hand on it. _Cle._ Do you hear, Sir? _Cal._ Sure these Souldiers Are all grown senseless. _Cle._ Do ye know where ye are, Sir? _Cal._ Tongue-tyed, He looks not well too, by my life, I think-- _Cle._ Speak for shame speak. _Lucip._ A man wou'd speak-- _Cal._ These Souldiers Are all dumb Saints: consider and take time, Sir, Let's forward Wenches, come, his Palat's down. _Luc._ Dare these men charge i'th' face of fire and bullets? And hang their heads down at a handsome Woman? Good master _Mars_, that's a foul fault. [_Ex. Prin._ Lucippe. _Cle._ Fye beast, No more my Brother. _Si._ Sister, honoured Sister. _Cle._ Dishonoured fool. _Si._ I do confess. _Cle._ Fye on thee. _Si._ But stay till I deliver. _Cle._ Let me go, I am asham'd to own thee. _Si._ Fare ye well then, Ye must ne're see me more.