Gob.

  No.

Arb.

  But can you prove this?

[Gob.]

If you will give consent:  else who dare goe about it.

Arb.

Give consent? 
Why I will have them all that know it rackt
To get this from um:  All that waites without
Come in, what ere you be come in, and be
Partakers of my Joy:  O you are welcome.

         Ent.  Mar:  Bessus, and others.

Mardonius the best newes, nay, draw no neerer
They all shall heare it:  I am found no King.

Mar.

Is that so good newes?

Art.

  Yes, the happiest newes that ere was heard.

Mar.

  Indeed twere well for you,
  If you might be a little lesse obey’d.

Arb.

  On, call the Queene.

Mar.

  Why she is there.

Arb.

  The Queene Mardonius, Panthea is the Queene,
  And I am plaine Arbaces, goe some one,
  She is in Gobrius house; since I saw you
  There are a thousand things delivered to me
  You little dreame of.

Mar.

  So it should seeme:  My Lord,
  What furi’s this.

Gob.

  Beleeve me tis no fury,
  All that he sayes is truth.

Mar.

  Tis verie strange.

Arb.

  Why doe you keepe your hats off Gentlemen,
  Is it to me? in good faith it must not be: 
  I cannot now command you, but I pray you
  For the respect you bare me, when you tooke
  Me for your King, each man clap on his hat at my desire.

Mar.

  We will:  but you are not found
  So meane a man, but that you may be cover’d
  As well as we, may you not?

Arb.

  O not here,
  You may, but not I, for here is my Father in presence.

Mar.

  Where?

Arb.

  Why there:  O the whole storie
  Would be a wildernesse to loose thy selfe
  For ever; O pardon me deare Father,
  For all the idle, and unreverent words
  That I have spoke in idle moodes to you: 
  I am Arbaces, we all fellow subjects,
  Nor is the Queene Panthea now my Sister.

Bes.

  Why if you remember fellow subject Arbaces, I tolde you once
  she was not your sister, I say she look’t nothing like you.

Arb.

I thinke you did good Captaine Bessus.

Bes.

Here will arise another question now amongst the Swordmen,
whether I be to call him to account for beating me, now he’s
prov’d no King.

Enter Ligones.

Ma.

Sir, heres Ligones
The Agent for the Armenian King.