_King._ I'le leave ye to my sister, and these Ladies To make your welcom fuller: my good souldier We must now turn your sternness into Courtship; When ye have done there, to your fair repose Sir: [_Flourish._ I know you need it _Memnon_; welcom Gentlemen. [_Exit_ King. _Luci._ Now he begins to march: Madam the Van's yours, Keep your ground sure; 'tis for your spurrs. _Mem._ O _Venus_. { { _He kneels amaz'd, _Cal._ How he stares on me. { and forgets to speak._ _Clean._ Knight him Madam, knight him, He will grow toth' ground else. _Eumenes._ Speak Sir, 'tis the Princess. _1 Cap._ Ye shame your self, speak to her. _Cal._ Rise and speak Sir. Ye are welcome to the Court, to me, to all Sir. _Lucip._ Is he not deaf? _Cal._ The Gentleman's not well. _Eumen._ Fie noble General. _Lucip._ Give him fresh air, his colour goes, how do ye? The Princess will be glad Sir. _Mem._ Peace, and hear me. _Clean._ Command a silence there. _Mem._ I love thee Lady. _Cal._ I thank your Lordship heartily: proceed Sir. _Lucip._ Lord how it stuck in's stomach like a surfeit. _Clean._ It breaks apace now from him, God be thanked, What a fine spoken man he is. _Lucip._ A choice one, of singular variety in carriage. _Clean._ Yes and I warrant you he knows his distance. _Mem._ With all my heart I love thee. _Cal._ A hearty Gentleman, And I were e'en an arrant beast, my Lord, But I lov'd you again. _Mem._ Good Lady kiss me. _Clean._ I marry, _Mars_, there thou cam'st close up to her. _Cal._ Kiss you at first my Lord? 'tis no fair fashion, Our lips are like Rose buds, blown with mens breaths, They lose both sap and savour; there's my hand Sir. _Eumen._ Fie, fie, my Lord, this is too rude. _Mem._ Unhand me, Consume me if I hurt her; good sweet Lady Let me but look upon thee. _Cal._ Doe. _Mem._ Yet-- _Cal._ Well Sir, Take your full view. _Lucip._ Bless your eyes Sir. _Cal._ Mercy, Is this the man they talkt of for a Souldier, So absolute and Excellent: O the Gods, If I were given to that vanitie Of making sport with men for ignorance, What a most precious subject had I purchas'd! Speak for him Gentlemen: some one that knows, What the man ails; and can speak sense. _Clean._ Sure Madam, This fellow has been a rare Hare finder. See how his eyes are set. _Cal._ Some one goe with me, I'le send him something for his head, poor Gentleman, He's troubled with the staggers. _Lucip._ Keep him dark, He will run March mad else, the fumes of Battels Ascend into his brains. _Clean._ Clap to his feet An old Drum head, to draw the thunder downward.