_Si._ Fools and Fidlers Make sport at my abuse too? _Fool._ O 'tis the Nature Of us Fools to make bold with one another, But you are wise, brave sirs. _Chi._ Cheer up your Princess, Believe it Sir, the King will not be angry, Or say he were; why, 'twas the Oracle. The Oracle, an't like your Grace, the Oracle. _Strem._ And who, most mighty _Siphax_? _Siph._ With mine own whore. _Cloe._ With whom else should ye marry, speak your conscience, Will ye transgress the law of Arms, that ever Rewards the Souldier with his own sins? _Siph._ Devils. _Cloe._ Ye had my maiden-head, my youth, my sweetness, Is it not justice then?-- _Siph._ I see it must be, But by this hand, I'le hang a lock upon thee. _Cloe._ You shall not need, my honesty shall doe it. _Siph._ If there be wars in all the world-- _Cloe._ I'le with ye, For you know I have been a Souldier, Come, curse on: when I need another Oracle. _Chi._ Send for me _Siphax_, I'le fit ye with a Princess, And so to both your honours. _Fool._ And your graces. _Siph._ The Devil grace ye all. _Cloe._ God a mercy _Chilax_. _Chi._ Shall we laugh half an hour now? _Strem._ No the King comes, And all the train. _Chi._ Away then, our Act's ended. [_Exeunt._ _Enter King_, Calis, Memnon, _and_ Cleanthe, _Lords_. _King._ You know he do's deserve ye, loves ye dearly, You know what bloody violence had us'd { _The Hearse Upon himself, but that his Brother crost it, { ready, Polydor, You know the same thoughts still inhabit in him { Eumenes & And covet to take birth: Look on him Lady, { Captains._ The wars have not so far consum'd him yet, Cold age disabled him, or sickness sunk him To be abhorr'd: look on his Honour Sister, That bears no stamp of time, no wrinkles on it, No sad demolishment, nor death can reach it: Look with the eyes of Heaven that nightly waken, To view the wonders of the glorious Maker, And not the weakness: look with your vertuous eyes, And then clad royaltie in all his conquests, His matchless love hung with a thousand merits, Eternal youth attending, Fame and Fortune, Time and Oblivion vexing at his vertues, He shall appear a miracle: look on our dangers, Look on the publick ruin. _Calis._ O, dear Brother. _King._ Fie, let us not like proud and greedy waters Gain to give off again: this is our Sea, And you his _Cynthia_, govern him, take heed, His flouds have been as high, and full as any, And gloriously now is got up to the girdle, The Kingdomes he hath purchas'd; noble Sister, Take not your vertue from him, O take heed We ebbe not now to nothing, take heed _Calis_.