_Lucip._ Nay she is much alter'd, That on my understanding, all her sleeps Lady Which were as sound and sweet-- _Cle._ Pray do not force me, Good Madam, where I am not, to be ill, Conceit's a double sickness; on my faith your highness Is meer mistaken in me. { _A Dead March within { of Drum and Sagbutts_ _Cal._ I am glad on't. Yet this I have ever noted when thou wast thus, It still forerun some strange event: my Sister Died when thou wast thus last: hark hark, ho, What mournfull noise is this comes creeping forward? Still it grows nearer, nearer, do ye hear it? _Enter_ Polydor, _and Captains_, Eumenes _mourning_. _Lucip._ It seems some Souldiers funeral: see it enters. _C[a]l._ What may it mean? _Pol._ The Gods keep ye fair _Calis_. _Cal._ This man can speak, and well; he stands and views us; Wou'd I were ne'r worse look't upon: how humbly His eyes are cast now to the Earth! pray mark him And mark how rarely he has rankt his troubles: See now he weeps, they all weep; a sweeter sorrow I never look't upon, nor one that braver Became his grief; your will with us? _Pol._ Great Lady, [_Plucks out the Cup._ Excellent beauty. _Cal._ He speaks handsomely. What a rare rhetorician his grief plaies! That stop was admirable. _Pol._ See, see thou Princess, Thou great commander of all hearts. _Cal._ I have found it, O how my soul shakes! _Pol._ See, see the noble heart Of him that was the noblest: see and glory (Like the proud God himself) in what thou hast purchas'd, Behold the heart of _Memnon_: does it start ye? _Cal._ Good gods, what has his wildness done? _Pol._ Look boldlie, You boldlie said you durst, look wretched woman, Nay flie not back fair follie, 'tis too late now, Vertue and blooming honour bleed to death here, Take it, the Legacie of Love bequeath'd ye, Of cruel Love a cruel Legacie; What was the will that wrought it then? can ye weep? Imbalm it in your truest tears If women can weep a truth, or ever sorrow sunk yet Into the soul of your sex, for 'tis a Jewel The worlds worth cannot weigh down, Take it Lady; And with it all (I dare not curse) my sorrows, And may they turn to Serpents. _Eumen._ How she looks Still upon him! see now a tear steals from her. _2 Capt._ But still she keeps her eye firm. _Pol._ Next read this, But since I see your spirit somewhat troubled I'le doe it for ye. _2 Capt._ Still she eyes him mainlie. _Goe happy heart for thou shalt lye_ _Intomb'd in her for whom I dye_ _Example of her cruelty._ _Tell her if she chance to chide_ _Me for slowness in her pride_ _That it was for her I died._ _If a tear escape her eye_ _'Tis not for my memory_ _But thy rights of obsequy._