would fain piddle,
A little to revive her must be thought of,
'Tis even so, she must have it; but how by my means,
A Devil, can she drive it? I that wait still
Before the Goddess, giving Oracle,
How can I profit her? 'tis her own project,
And if she cast it false, her own fault be it. [Exit Priest.

Enter Polydore, Eumenes, Captains, Stremon.

Pol. Why, this is utter madness.

Eum. Thus it is, Sir.

Pol. Only the Princess sight?

1 Cap. All we can judge at.

Pol. This must be lookt to timely.

Eum. Yes, and wisely.

Pol. He does not offer at his life?

Eum. Not yet, Sir,
That we can hear of.

Pol. Noble Gentlemen,
Let me entreat your watches over him,
Ye cannot do a worthier work.

2 Cap. We came, Sir,
Provided for that service.

Pol. Where is Chilax?

Strem. A little busie, Sir.

Pol. Is the Fool and Boy here?

Strem. They are, Sir.

Enter Memnon.

Pol. Let 'em be still so; and as they find his humours.

Eumen. Now ye may behold him.

Pol. Stand close, and make no noise;
By his eyes now, Gentlemen,
I guess him full of anger.

Eumen. Be not seen there.

Mem. The hour's past long ago, he's false and fearful,
Coward, go with thy Caitive soul, thou Cur Dog,
Thou cold Clod, wild fire warm thee, monstrous fearful,
I know the Slave shakes but to think on't.

Pol. Who's that?

Eumen. I know not, Sir.

Mem. But I shall catch ye, Rascal,
Your mangy Soul is not immortal here, Sir,
Ye must dye, and we must meet; we must, maggot,
Be sure we must, for not a Nook of Hell,
Not the most horrid Pit shall harbour thee;
The Devils tail sha'n't hide thee, but I'll have thee,
And how I'll use thee! whips and firebrands:
Tosting thy tail against a flame of wild fire,
And basting it with Brimstone, shall be nothing,
Nothing at all; I'll teach ye to be treacherous:
Was never Slave so swing'd since Hell was Hell
As I will swinge thy Slaves Soul; and be sure on't.

Pol. Is this imagination, or some circumstance?
For 'tis extream strange.

Eumen. So is all he does, Sir.

Mem. Till then I'll leave ye; who's there? where's the Surgeon?
Demagoras?

Dem. My Lord.

Mem. Bring the Surgeon:
And wait you too.

Enter Surgeon.

Pol. What wou'd he with a Surgeon?

Eum. Things mustring in his head: pray mark.

Mem. Come hither,
Have you brought your Instruments?

Sur. They are within, Sir.

Mem. Put to the doors a while there; ye can incise
To a hairs breadth without defacing.

Sur. Yes Sir.

Mem. And take out fairly from the flesh.

Sur. The least thing.

Mem. Well come hither; take off my doublet,
For look ye Surgeon, I must have ye cut
My Heart out here, and handsomly: Nay, stare not,
Nor do not start; I'll cut your throat else, Surgeon,
Come swear to do it.

Sur. Good Sir—

Mem. Sirrah, hold him,
I'll have but one blow at his head.

Sur. I'll do it,
Why what should we do living after you, Sir?
We'll dye before if ye please.

Mem. No, no.

Sur. Living? hang living.
Is there ne'r a Cat hole where I may creep through?
Would I were in the Indies. [Aside.

Mem. Swear then, and after my death presently
To kill your selves and follow, as ye are honest,
As ye have faiths, and loves to me.

Dem. We'll do it.

Eum. Pray do not stir yet, we are near enough
To run between all dangers.

Mem. Here I am, Sir;
Come, look upon me, view the best way boldly,
Fear nothing, but cut home; if your hand shake, Sirrah,
Or any way deface my heart i'th' cutting,
Make the least scratch upon it; but draw it whole,
Excellent fair, shewing at all points, Surgeon,
The Honour and the Valour of the Owner,
Mixt with the most immaculate love I send it,
Look to't, I'll slice thee to the Soul.

Sur. Ne'r fear, Sir,
I'll do it daintily; would I were out once.

Mem. I will not have ye smile, Sirrah, when ye do it,
As though ye cut a Ladies Corn; 'tis scurvy:
Do me it as thou dost thy Prayers, seriously.

Sur. I'll do it in a dump, Sir.

Mem. In a Dog, Sir,
I'll have no dumps, nor dumplins; fetch your tools,
And then I'll tell ye more.

Sur. If I return
To hear more, I'll be hang'd for't.

Mem. Quick, quick.

Dem. Yes Sir,
With all the heels we have. [Exeunt Surgeon, Demagoras.

Eumen. Yet stand.

Pol. He'l do it.

Eum. He cannot, and we here.

Mem. Why when ye Rascals,
Ye dull Slaves: will ye come, Sir? Surgeon, syringe,
Dog-leach, shall I come fetch ye?

Pol. Now I'll to him.
God save ye honour'd Brother.

Mem. My dear Polydore,
Welcome from travel, welcome; and how do ye?

Pol. Well Sir, would you were so.

Mem. I am, I thank ye.
You are a better'd man much, I the same still,
An old rude Souldier, Sir.

Pol. Pray be plain, Brother,
And tell me but the meaning of this Vision,
For to me it appears no more; so far
From common Course and Reason.

Mem. Thank thee, Fortune,
At length I have found the man: the man must do it,
The man in honour bound.

Pol. To do what?

Mem. Hark, for I will bless ye with the circumstance
Of that weak shadow that appear'd.

Pol. Speak on, Sir. [Walks with him.

Mem. It is no Story for all ears.

Pol. The Princess? [Whispers.

Mem. Peace and hear all.

Pol. How?

Eum. Sure 'tis dangerous
He starts so at it.

Pol. Your heart? do you know, Sir?

Mem. Yes, Pray thee be softer.

Pol. Me to do it?

Mem. Only reserv'd, and dedicated.

Pol. For shame, Brother,
Know what ye are, a man.

Mem. None of your Athens,
Good sweet Sir, no Philosophy, thou feel'st not
The honourable end, fool.

Pol. I am sure I feel
The shame and scorn that follows; have ye serv'd thus long
The glory of your Country, in your Conquests?
The envy of your Neighbours, in your Vertues?
Rul'd Armies of your own, given Laws to Nations,
Belov'd and fear'd as far as Fame has travell'd,
Call'd the most fortunate and happy Memnon,
To lose all here at home, poorly to lose it?
Poorly, and pettishly, ridiculously
To fling away your fortune?