_Pr._ I'll keep it for ye; when? _Cle._ To morrow morning I'll visit ye again; and when occasion Offers it self-- _Pr._ Instruct me, and have at ye. _Cle._ Farewel till then; be sure. _Pri._ As your own thoughts, Lady. _Cle._ 'Tis a main work, and full of fear. [_Exit Cle._ _Pri._ Fools only Make their effects seem fearful, farewell daughter. This gold was well got for my old tuff Souldier, Now I shall be his sweet again; what business Is this she has a foot? some lusty lover Beyond her line, the young Wench would fain piddle, A little to revive her must be thought of, 'Tis even so, she must have it; but how by my means, A Devil, can she drive it? I that wait still Before the Goddess, giving Oracle, How can I profit her? 'tis her own project, And if she cast it false, her own fault be it. [_Exit_ Priest. _Enter_ Polydore, Eumenes, _Captains_, Stremon. _Pol._ Why, this is utter madness. _Eum._ Thus it is, Sir. _Pol._ Only the Princess sight? _1 Cap._ All we can judge at. _Pol._ This must be lookt to timely. _Eum._ Yes, and wisely. _Pol._ He does not offer at his life? _Eum._ Not yet, Sir, That we can hear of. _Pol._ Noble Gentlemen, Let me entreat your watches over him, Ye cannot do a worthier work. _2 Cap._ We came, Sir, Provided for that service. _Pol._ Where is _Chilax_? _Strem._ A little busie, Sir. _Pol._ Is the Fool and Boy here? _Strem._ They are, Sir. _Enter_ Memnon. _Pol._ Let 'em be still so; and as they find his humours. _Eumen._ Now ye may behold him. _Pol._ Stand close, and make no noise; By his eyes now, Gentlemen, I guess him full of anger. _Eumen._ Be not seen there. _Mem._ The hour's past long ago, he's false and fearful, Coward, go with thy Caitive soul, thou Cur Dog, Thou cold Clod, wild fire warm thee, monstrous fearful, I know the Slave shakes but to think on't. _Pol._ Who's that? _Eumen._ I know not, Sir. _Mem._ But I shall catch ye, Rascal, Your mangy Soul is not immortal here, Sir, Ye must dye, and we must meet; we must, maggot, Be sure we must, for not a Nook of Hell, Not the most horrid Pit shall harbour thee; The Devils tail sha'n't hide thee, but I'll have thee, And how I'll use thee! whips and firebrands: Tosting thy tail against a flame of wild fire, And basting it with Brimstone, shall be nothing, Nothing at all; I'll teach ye to be treacherous: Was never Slave so swing'd since Hell was Hell As I will swinge thy Slaves Soul; and be sure on't. _Pol._ Is this imagination, or some circumstance? For 'tis extream strange. _Eumen._ So is all he does, Sir. _Mem._ Till then I'll leave ye; who's there? where's the Surgeon? _Demagoras?_ _Dem._ My Lord. _Mem._ Bring the Surgeon: And wait you too. _Enter_ Surgeon. _Pol._ What wou'd he with a Surgeon? _Eum._ Things mustring in his head: pray mark.