Arb.

  How does she love me, speak?

Gob.

  She loves you more than people love their health,
  that live by labour; more than I could love a man that died
  for me, if he could live again.

Arb.

  She is not like her mother then.

Gob.

  O no, when you were in Armenia,
  I durst not let her know when you were hurt: 
  For at the first on every little scratch,
  She kept her Chamber, wept, and could not eat,
  Till you were well, and many times the news
  Was so long coming, that before we heard
  She was as near her death, as you your health.

Arb.

  Alas poor soul, but yet she must be rul’d;
  I know not how I shall requite her well. 
  I long to see her, have you sent for her,
  To tell her I am ready?

Gob.

  Sir I have.

Enter 1 Gent, and Tigranes.

1 Gent.

  Sir, here is the Armenian King.

Arb.

  He’s welcome.

1 Gent.

  And the Queen-mother, and the Princess wait without.

Arb.

Good Gobrias bring ’em in. Tigranes, you will think you are arriv’d In a strange Land, where Mothers cast to poyson Their only Sons; think you you shall be safe?

Tigr.

  Too safe I am Sir.

Enter Gobrias, Arane, Panthea, Spaconia, Bacurius, Mardonius and Bessus, and two Gentlemen.

_ Ara_.

  As low as this I bow to you, and would
  As low as is my grave, to shew a mind
  Thankful for all your mercies.

Arb.

  O stand up,
  And let me kneel, the light will be asham’d
  To see observance done to me by you.

_ Ara_.

  You are my King.

Arb.

  You are my Mother, rise;
  As far be all your faults from your own soul,
  As from my memory; then you shall be
  As white as innocence her self.

_ Ara_.

  I came
  Only to shew my duty, and acknowledge
  My sorrows for my sins; longer to stay
  Were but to draw eyes more attentively
  Upon my shame, that power that kept you safe
  From me, preserve you still.

Arb.

Your own desires shall be your guide.

[Exit Arane.

Pan.

Now let me die, since I have seen my Lord the King
Return in safetie, I have seen all good that life
Can shew me; I have ne’re another wish
For Heaven to grant, nor were it fit I should;
For I am bound to spend my age to come,
In giving thanks that this was granted me.

Gob.

  Why does not your Majesty speak?

Arb.