Wom.  Even what you think is meet.

Leu.  Give her ten Crowns, we are full of business, She is a poor Woman, let her take a Cheese home.  Enter the wench i’ th’ Office. [Ex.  Wom. and 1 Ma.

2 Ma.  What’s your name, Sister?

Phe. Phebe, forsooth.

Leu.  A pretty name; ’twill do well: 
Go in, and let the other Maid instruct you, Phebe. [Ex.  Phe.
Let my old Velvet skirt be made fit for her. 
I’ll put her into action for a Wast-coat;
And when I have rigg’d her up once, this small Pinnace
Shall sail for Gold, and good store too; who’s there? [Knock within
Lord, shall we never have any ease in this world! 
Still troubled! still molested! what would you have? Enter Menipp[us]. 
I cannot furnish you faster than I am able,
And ye were my Husband a thousand times, I cannot do it. 
At least a dozen posts are gone this morning
For several parts of the Kingdom:  I can do no more
But pay ’em, and instruct ’em.

Men.  Prithee, good sweet heart, I come not to disturb thee, nor discourage thee, I know thou labour’st truly:  hark in thine ear.

Leu.  Ha!  What do you make so dainty on’t? look there I am an Ass, I can do nothing.

Men. Celia?  I, this is she; a stranger born.

Leu.  What would you give for more now?

Men.  Prithee, my best Leucippe, there’s much hangs on’t,
Lodg’d at the end of Mars’s street? that’s true too;
At the sack of such a Town, by such a Souldier
Preserv’d a Prisoner:  and by Prince Demetrius
Bought from that man again, maintain’d and favour’d: 
How came you by this knowledg?

Leu.  Poor, weak man, I have a thousand eyes, when thou art sleeping, Abroad, and full of business.

Men.  You never try’d her?

Leu.  No, she is beyond my level; so hedg’d in By the Princes infinite Love and Favour to her—­

Men.  She is a handsome Wench.

Leu.  A delicate, and knows it; And out of that proof arms her self.

Men.  Come in then; I have a great design from the King to you, And you must work like wax now.

Leu.  On this Lady?

Men.  On this, and all your wits call home.

Leu.  I have done
Toys in my time of some note; old as I am,
I think my brains will work without barm;
Take up the Books.

Men.  As we go in, I’le tell ye. [Exeunt.

SCENA IV.

Enter Antigonus, Timon, Lords and a Souldier.

Ant.  No face of sorrow for this loss, ’twill choak him,
Nor no man miss a friend, I know his nature
So deep imprest with grief, for what he has suffer’d,
That the least adding to it adds to his ruine;
His loss is not so infinite, I hope, Souldier.