Cel.  To th’ Court? this stumbles me:  art sure for me wench, This preparation is?

Gov.  She is perilous crafty:  I fear too honest for us all too.  Am I sure I live?

Cel.  To th’ Court? this cannot down:  what should I do there? 
Why should he on a suddain change his mind thus,
And not make me acquainted? sure he loves me;
His vow was made against it, and mine with him: 
At least while this King liv’d:  he will come hither,
And see me e’re I goe?

Gov.  Wou’d some wise woman
Had her in working.  That I think he will not,
Because he means with all joy there to meet ye. 
Ye shall hear more within this hour.

Cel.  A Courtier? 
What may that meaning be? sure he will see me
If he be come, he must:  Hark ye good Governess,
What age is the King of?

Gov.  He’s an old man, and full of business.

Cel.  I fear too full indeed:  what Ladys are there?  I would be loth to want good company.

Gov.  Delicate young Ladys, as you would desire; And when you are acquainted, the best company.

Cel.  ’Tis very well:  prethee goe in, let’s talk more.  For though I fear a trick, Fie bravely try it.

Gov.  I see he must be cunning, Knocks this Doe down. [Exeunt.

SCENA III.

Enter Lieutenant, and Leontius, Drums within.

Leo.  You shall not have your will, sirrah, are ye running?  Have ye gotten a toy in your heels?  Is this a season, When honour pricks ye on, to prick your ears up, After your whore, your Hobby-horse?

Lieu.  Why look ye now:  What a strange man are you? would you have a man fight At all hours all alike?

Leo.  Do but fight something; But half a blow, and put thy stomach to’t:  Turn but thy face, and do-make mouths at ’em.

Lieu.  And have my teeth knockt out; I thank ye heartily, Ye are my dear friend.

Leo.  What a devil ails thee?  Dost long to be hang’d?

Lieu.  Faith Sir, I make no suit for’t:  But rather Fhan I would live thus out of charity, Continually in brawling—­

Leo.  Art thou not he?  I may be cosen’d—­

Lieu, I shall be discover’d.

Leo.  That in the midst of thy most hellish pains, When thou wert crawling sick, didst aim at wonders, When thou wert mad with pain?

Lieu.  Ye have found the cause out;
I had ne’re been mad to fight else:  I confess Sir,
The daily torture of my side that vext me,
Made me as daily careless what became of me,
Till a kind sword there wounded me, and eas’d me;
’Twas nothing in my valour fought; I am well now,
And take some pleasure in my life, methinks now,
It shews as mad a thing to me to see you scuffle,
And kill one another foolishly for honour,
As ’twas to you, [t]o see me play the coxcomb.