_Enter_ Chilax, _and_ Cloe _at the other door_. Fortune, I will so honour thee, Love, so adore thee. She is here again, looks round about her, again too, 'Tis done, I know 'tis done; 'tis _Chilax_ with her, And I shall know of him; who's that? _Chi._ Speak softly, The Princess from the Oracle. _Si._ She views me, By Heaven she beckons me. _Chi._ Come near, she wou'd have ye. _Si._ O royal Lady. [_Kisses her hand._ _Chi._ She wills ye read that, for belike she's bound to silence For such a time; she is wondrous gracious to ye. _Si._ Heav'n make me thankful. _Chi._ She would have ye read it. [_He reads._ _Si._ _Siphax_, the will of Heaven hath cast me on thee To be thy Wife, whose Will must be obey'd: Use me with honour, I shall love thee dearly, And make thee understand thy worths hereafter; Convey me to a secret Ceremony, That both our hearts and loves may be united, And use no Language, till before my Brother We both appear, where I will shew the Oracle, For till that time I am bound, I must not answer. _Si._ O happy I! _Chi._ Ye are a made man. _Si._ But _Chilax_, Where are her Women? _Chi._ None but your Graces Sister, Because she would have it private to the World yet, Knows of this business. _Si._ I shall thank thee, _Chilax_, Thou art a careful man. _Chi._ Your Graces Servant. _Si._ I'll find a fit place for thee. _Chi._ If you will not, There's a good Lady will, she points ye forward, Away and take your fortune; not a word, Sir: So, you are greas'd I hope. [_Ex._ Si. _and_ Cloe, _manet_ Chilax. _Enter_ Stremon, _Fool, and Boy_. _Chi._ _Stremon_, Fool, _Picus_, Where have you left your Lord? _Strem._ I' th' Temple, _Chilax_. _Chi._ Why are ye from him? _Strem._ Why, the King is with him, And all the Lords. _Chi._ Is not the Princess there too? _Strem._ Yes. And the strangest Coil amongst 'em; She weeps bitterly: The King entreats, and frowns, my Lord like Autumn Drops off his hopes by handfulls, all the Temple Sweats with this Agony. _Chi._ Where's young _Polydore_? _Strem._ Dead, as they said, o' th' sudden. _Chi._ Dead? _Strem._ For certain, But not yet known abroad. _Chi._ There's a new trouble, A brave young man he was; but we must all dye. _Strem._ Did not the General meet you this morning Like a tall Stallion Nun? _Chi._ No more o' that, Boy. _Strem._ You had been ferretting. _Chi._ That's all one, Fool; My Master Fool that taught my wits to traffick, What has your Wisedom done? how have you profited? Out with your Audit: come, you are not empty, Put out mine eye with twelve-pence? do you shaker? What think you of this shaking? here's wit, Coxcomb, Ha Boys? ha my fine Rascals, here's a Ring, { _Pulls out How right they go! { a Purse._