2 Gent.  What’s all this matter?

1 Gent.  Nay I cannot shew ye.

Leo.  Here’s twenty pound, goe but smell to ’em.

Lieu.  Alas Sir, I have taken such a cold I can smell nothing.

Leo.  I can smell a Rascal, a rank Rascal:  Fye, how he stinks, stinks like a tyred Jade.

2 Gent.  What Sir?

Leo.  Why, that Sir, do not you smell him?

2 Gent.  Smell him?

Lieu.  I must endure.

Leo.  Stinks like a dead Dog, Carrion—­ There’s no such damnable smell under Heaven, As the faint sweat of a Coward:  will ye fight yet?

Lieu.  Nay, now I defie ye; ye have spoke the worst ye can Of me, and if every man should take what you say To the heart.—­

Leo.  God ha’ Mercy, God ha’ Mercy with all my heart; here I forgive thee; And fight, or fight not, do but goe along with us, And keep my Dog.

Lieu.  I love a good Dog naturally.

1 Gent.  What’s all this stir, Lieutenant?

Lieu.  Nothing Sir, But a slight matter of argument.

Leo.  Pox take thee.  Sure I shall love this Rogue, he’s so pretty a Coward.  Come Gentlemen, let’s up now, and if fortune Dare play the slut again, I’le never more Saint her, Come play-fellow, come, prethee come up; come chicken, I have a way shall fit yet:  A tame knave, Come, look upon us.

Lieu.  I’le tell ye who does best boyes. [Exeunt.

SCENA IV.

Enter Antigonus, and Menippus, above.

Men.  I saw her coming out.

Ant.  Who waits upon her?

Men. Timon, Charinthus, and some other Gentlemen, By me appointed.

Ant.  Where’s your wife?

Men.  She’s ready To entertain her here Sir; and some Ladies Fit for her lodgings.

Ant.  How shews she in her trim now?

Men.  Oh most divinely sweet.

Ant.  Prethee speak softly.  How does she take her coming?

Men.  She bears it bravely; But what she thinks—­For Heaven sake Sir preserve me—­ If the Prince chance to find this.

Ant.  Peace ye old fool; She thinks to meet him here.

Men.  That’s all the Project.

Ant.  Was she hard to bring?

Men.  No she believ’d it quickly,
And quickly made her self fit, the Gown a little,
And those new things she has not been acquainted with,
At least in this place, where she liv’d a prisoner,
Troubled and stirr’d her mind.  But believe me Sir,
She has worn as good, they sit so apted to her;
And she is so great a Mistris of disposure: 
Here they come now:  but take a full view of her.

Enter Celia, Timon, Charinthus, and Gent.