_Timag._ But your ladyship looks Sad on the matter, as if you had miss'd Your ten-crown amber possets, good to smooth The cutis, as you call it. _Coris._ Pray you, forbear; I am an alter'd woman. _Timag._ So it seems; A part of your honour's ruff stands out of rank too. _Coris._ No matter, I have other thoughts. _Timag._ O strange! Not ten days since it would have vex'd you more Than the loss of your good name. _Enter_ LEOSTHENES _and_ DIPHILUS _with a Guard_. How now, friend! Looks our Cleora lovely? _Leost._ In my thoughts, sir. _Timag._ But why this guard? _Diph._ It is Timoleon's pleasure: The slaves have been examined, and confess Their riot took beginning from your house; And the first mover of them to rebellion Your slave Marullo. [_Exeunt_ DIPH. _and Guard_. _Leost._ Ha! I more than fear. _Timag._ They may search boldly. _Enter_ TIMANDRA, _speaking to the Guard within_. _Timand._ You are unmanner'd grooms. To pry into my lady's private lodgings: There's no Marullos there. _Re-enter_ DIPHILUS, _and Guard, with_ MARULLO. _Timag._ Now I suspect too. Where found you him? _Diph._ Close hid in your sister's chamber. _Timag._ Is that the villain's sanctuary? _Leost._ This confirms All she deliver'd, false. _Timag._ But that I scorn To rust my good sword in thy slavish blood, Thou now wert dead. _Mar._ He's more a slave than fortune Or misery can make me, that insults Upon unweapon'd innocence. _Timag._ Prate you, dog? _Mar._ Curs snap at lions in the toil, whose looks Frighted them, being free. _Timag._ As a wild beast, Drive him before you. _Mar._ O divine Cleora! _Leost._ Darest thou presume to name her? _Mar._ Yes, and love her; And may say, have deserved her. _Timag._ Stop his mouth, Load him with irons too. [_Exit Guard with_ MARULLO. _Cleon._ I am deadly sick To look on him. _Asot._ If he get loose, I know it, I caper like an ape again: I feel The whip already. _Timand._ This goes to my lady. [_Exit._ _Timag._ Come, cheer you, sir; we'll urge his punishment To the full satisfaction of your anger. _Leost._ He is not worth my thoughts. No corner left In all the spacious rooms of my vex'd heart, But is fill'd with Cleora: and the rape She has done upon her honour, with my wrong, The heavy burden of my sorrow's song. [_Exeunt._ ACT V. SCENE I. _The same. A Room in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_. _Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS _and_ CLEORA. _Archid._ Thou art thine own disposer. Were his honours And glories centupled, as I must confess, Leosthenes is most worthy, yet I will not, However I may counsel, force affection.