PHAR.  Gentlemen, honest Gentlemen—­

SOUL.  A speakes treason Captaine, shal’s knock him downe?

CAP.  Hold, I say.

2 SOUL.  Good Captaine let me have one mal at’s mazard, I feele my
                 stomacke strangely provoked to bee at his Spanish
                 pot-nowle, shal’s kill him?

OMNES.  I, kill him, kill him.

CAP.  Againe I say hold.

3 SOUL.  O how ranke he lookes, sweete Captaine let’s geld him, and
                send his dowsets for a dish to the Burdello.

4 SOUL.  No, let’s rather sell them to some woman Chymist, that
                extractions, shee might draw an excellent provocative oyle
                from useth them, that might be very usefull.

CAP.  You see, my scurvy Don, how precious you are in esteem
                amongst us, had you not beene better kept at home, I thinke
                you had:  must you needes come amongst us, to have your
                saffron hide taw’d as wee intend it:  My Don, Phylaster
                must suffer death to satisfie your melancholly spleene, he
                must my Don, he must; but we your Physitians, hold it fit
                that you bleede for it:  Come my robusticks, my brave
                regiment of rattle makers, let’s cal a common cornuted
                counsell, and like grave Senators, beare up our brancht
                crests, in sitting upon the severall tortures we shall put
                him to, and with as little sense as may be, put your wils
                in execution.

SOME CRIES.  Burne him, burne him.

OTHERS.  Hang him, hang him.

[Enter PHYLASTER.

CAP.  No, rather let’s carbinade his cods-head, and cut him to collops: 
                shall I begin?

PHI.  Stay your furies my loving Countrimen.

OMNES. Phylaster is come, Phylaster, Phylaster.

CAP.  My porcupines of spite, make roome I say, that I may salute
                my brave Prince:  and is Prince Phylaster at liberty? 
PHI.  I am, most loving countrimen.

CAP.  Then give me thy Princely goll, which thus I kisse, to
                whom I crouch and bow; But see my royall sparke,
                this head-strong swarme that follow me humming
                like a master Bee, have I led forth their Hives, and
                being on wing, and in our heady flight, have seazed
                him shall suffer for thy wrongs.

OMNES.  I, I, let’s kill him, kill him.

PHI.  But heare me, Countrimen.

CAP.  Heare the Prince, I say, heare Phylaster.

OMNES.  I, I, heare the Prince, heare the Prince.

PHI.  My comming is to give you thanks, my deere
                Countrimen, whose powerfull sway hath curb’d
                the prossecuting fury of my foes.