_Coris._ I, that forgot I was made of flesh and blood, and thought the silk Spun by the diligent worm out of their entrails, Too coarse to clothe me, and the softest down Too hard to sleep on; that disdain'd to look On virtue being in rags, that from my servants Expected adoration, am made justly The scorn of my own bondwoman. _Cleon._ I know I cannot Last long, that's all my comfort. _Mar._ What a true mirror Were this sad spectacle for secure greatness! Here they, that never see themselves, but in The glass of servile flattery, might behold The weak foundation upon which they build Their trust in human frailty. Happy are those, That knowing, in their births, they are subject to Uncertain change, are still prepared, and arm'd For either fortune: a rare principle, And, with much labour, learn'd in wisdom's school! For, as these bondmen, by their actions, show That their prosperity, like too large a sail For their small bark of judgment, sinks them with A fore-right gale of liberty, ere they reach The port they long to touch at: so these wretches, Swollen with the false opinion of their worth, And proud of blessings left them, not acquired; That did believe they could with giant arms Fathom the earth, and were above their fates, Those borrow'd helps, that did support them, vanish'd, Fall of themselves, and by unmanly suffering Betray their proper weakness, and make known Their boasted greatness was lent, not their own. _Cleon._ O for some meat! they sit long. _Coris._ We forgot, When we drew out intemperate feasts till midnight; Their hunger was not thought on, nor their watchings; Nor did we hold ourselves served to the height, But when we did exact and force their duties Beyond their strength and power. _Asot._ We pay for 't now: _Re-enter_ POLIPHRON, CIMBRIO, GRACCULO, ZANTHIA, _and_ OLYMPIA, _drunk and quarrelling_. _Cimb._ Do not hold me: Not kiss the bride! _Poliph._ No, sir. _Mar._ [_coming forward_] Hold! _Zant._ Here's Marullo. _Olymp._ He's your chief. _Mar._ Take heed; I've news will cool this heat, and make you Remember what you were. _Cimb._ How! _Mar._ Send off these, And then I'll tell you. [_Exeunt_ CLEON, ASOT. ZANT. OLYMP. _and_ CORIS. _Cimb._ What would you impart? _Mar._ What must invite you To stand upon your guard, and leave your feasting; Our masters are victorious. _All._ How! _Mar._ Within A day's march of the city, flesh'd with spoil, And proud of conquest; the armado sunk, The Carthaginian admiral, hand to hand, Slain by Leosthenes. _Cimb._ I feel the whip Upon my back already. _Grac._ Every man Seek a convenient tree, and hang himself. _Poliph._ Better die once, than live an age to suffer New tortures every hour. _Cimb._ Say, we submit, And yield us to their mercy?--