Leo. And some brave thing, or let mine ears be cut off.  He’s finely wrought.

Dem. Let’s after him.

Leo. I pray, Sir; But how this Rogue, when this cloud’s melted in him, And all discover’d—­

Dem. That’s for an after mirth, away, away, away. [Ex.

SCENA VI.

Enter Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolomie, Souldiers.

Sel.  Let no man fear to dye:  we love to sleep all,
And death is but the sounder sleep; all ages,
And all hours call us; ’tis so common, easie,
That little Children tread those paths before us;
We are not sick, nor our souls prest with sorrows,
Nor go we out like tedious tales, forgotten;
High, high we come, and hearty to our Funerals,
And as the Sun that sets, in bloud let’s fall.

Lysi.  ’Tis true, they have us fast, we cannot scape ’em
Nor keeps the brow of fortune one smile for us,
Dishonourable ends we can scape though,
And (worse than those Captivities) we can die,
And dying nobly, though we leave behind us
These clods of flesh, that are too massie burthens,
Our living souls flie crown’d with living conquests.

Ptol.  They have begun, fight bravely, and fall bravely;
And may that man that seeks to save his life now
By price, or promise, or by fear falls from us,
Never again be blest with name of Souldier.

Enter a Souldier.

Sel.  How now? who charged first?  I seek a brave hand To set me off in death.

Soul.  We are not charg’d, Sir, The Prince lies still.

Sel.  How comes this Larum up then?

Soul.  There is one desperate fellow, with the Devil in him
(He never durst do this else) has broke into us,
And here he bangs ye two or three before him,
There five or six; ventures upon whole Companies.

Ptol.  And is not seconded?

Soul.  Not a man follows.

Sel.  Nor cut i’ pieces?

Soul.  Their wonder yet has staid ’em.

Sel.  Let’s in, and see this miracle?

Ptol.  I admire it. [Ex.

Enter Leontius, and Gentlemen.

Leon.  Fetch him off, fetch him off; I am sure he’s clouted; Did I hot tell you how ’twould take?

1 Gent.  ’Tis admirable.

Enter Lieutenant with Colours in his hand, pursuing 3 or 4 Souldiers.

Lie.  Follow that blow, my friend, there’s at your coxcombs, I fight to save me from the Surgions miseries.

Leo.  How the Knave curries ’em?

Lieu.  You cannot Rogues,
Till you have my Diseases, flie my fury,
Ye Bread and Butter Rogues, do ye run from me? 
And my side would give me leave, I would so hunt ye,
Ye Porridg gutted Slaves, ye Veal broth-Boobies.