Dem. Royal Sir: 
Thus low I beg this honour:  fame already
Hath every where rais’d Trophies to your glory,
And conquest now grown old, and weak with following
The weary marches and the bloody shocks
You daily set her in:  ’tis now scarce honour
For you that never knew to fight, but conquer,
To sparkle such poor people:  the Royal Eagle
When she hath tri’d [h]er young ones ’gainst the Sun,
And found ’em right; next teacheth ’em to prey,
How to command on wing, and check below her
Even Birds of noble plume; I am your own, Sir,
You have found my spirit, try it now, and teach it
To stoop whole Kingdoms:  leave a little for me: 
Let not your glory be so greedy, Sir,
To eat up all my hopes; you gave me life,
If to that life you add not what’s more lasting
A noble name, for man, you have made a shadow: 
Bless me this day:  bid me go on, and lead,
Bid me go on, no less fear’d, than Antigonus,
And to my maiden sword, tye fast your fortune: 
I know ’twill fight it self then:  dear Sir, honour me: 
Never fair Virgin long’d so.

Ant. Rise, and command then,
And be as fortunate, as I expect ye: 
I love that noble will; your young companions
Bred up and foster’d with ye, I hope Demetrius,
You will make souldiers too:  they must not leave ye.

Enter Leontius.

2 Gent. Never till life leave us, Sir.

Ant. O Leontius, Here’s work for you in hand.

Leon. I am ev’n right glad, Sir.  For by my troth, I am now grown old with idleness; I hear we shall abroad, Sir.

Ant. Yes, and presently, But who think you commands now?

Leon. Who commands, Sir? 
Methinks mine eye should guide me:  can there be
(If you your self will spare him so much honour)
Any found out to lead before your Armies,
So full of faith, and fire, as brave Demetrius? 
King Philips Son, at his years was an old Souldier,
‘Tis time his Fortune be o’ wing, high time, Sir,
So many idle hours, as here he loyters,
So many ever-living names he loses,
I hope ’tis he.

Ant. ’Tis he indeed, and nobly
He shall set forward:  draw you all those Garrisons
Upon the frontiers as you pass:  to those
Joyn these in pay at home, our ancient souldiers,
And as you go press all the Provinces.

Leo. We shall not [need];
Believe, this hopefull Gentleman
Can want no swords, nor honest hearts to follow him,
We shall be full, no fear Sir.