Ant.  He will find his tongue, I warrant ye; his health too; I send a physick will not fail.

Lord.  Fair work it.

Ant.  We hear the Princes mean to visit us In way of truce.

Lord.  ’Tis thought so.

Ant.  Come:  let’s in then, And think upon the noblest wayes to meet ’em. [Exeunt.

SCENA VIII.

Enter Leontius.

Leo.  There’s no way now to get in:  all the light stopt too;
Nor can I hear a sound of him, pray Heaven
He use no violence:  I think he has more Soul,
Stronger, and I hope nobler:  would I could but see once,
This beauty he groans under, or come to know
But any circumstance.  What noise is that there? 
I think I heard him groan:  here are some coming;
A woman too, I’le stand aloof, and view ’em.

Enter Menippus, Celia, Lords.

Cel.  Well, some of ye have been to blame in this point, But I forgive ye:  The King might have pickt out too Some fitter woman to have tri’d his valour.

Men.  ’Twas all to the best meant, Lady.

Cel.  I must think so, For how to mend it now:  he’s here you tell me?

Men.  He’s Madam, and the joy to see you only Will draw him out.

Leo.  I know that womans tongue, I think I have seen her face too:  I’le goe nearer:  If this be she, he has some cause of sorrow:  ’Tis the same face; the same, most excellent woman.

Cel.  This should be Lord Leontius:  I remember him.

Leo.  Lady, I think ye know me.

Cel.  Speak soft, good Souldier: 
I do, and know ye worthy, know ye noble;
Know not me yet openly, as you love me;
But let me see ye again, I’le satisfie ye: 
I am wondrous glad to see those eyes.

Leo.  You have charged me.

Cel.  You shall know where I am.

Leo.  I will not off yet: 
She goes to knock at’s door:  This must be she
The fellow told me of:  right glad I am on’t,
He will bolt now for certain.

Cel.  Are ye within Sir?  I’le trouble you no more:  I thank your courtesie, Pray leave me now.

All. Me.  We rest your humble servants. [Ex.  Me. &c.

Cel.  So now my jives are off:  pray Heaven he be here!  Master, my royal Sir:  do you hear who calls ye?  Love, my Demetrius.

Leo.  These are pretty quail-pipes, The Cock will Crow anon.

Cel.  Can ye be drowsie, When I call at your Window?

Leo.  I hear him stirring:  Now he comes wondring out.

Enter Demetrius.

Dem.  ’Tis Celias sound sure:  The sweetness of that tongue draws all hearts to it; There stands the shape too.

Le[o].  How he stares upon her!