Pan.

  No by Heaven.

Arb.

  Why yet you sent unto Tigranes, Sister.

Pan.

  True, but for another:  for the truth—­

Arb.

  No more,
  I’le credit thee, thou canst not lie,
  Thou art all truth.

Pan.

  But is there nothing else,
  That we may do, but only walk? methinks
  Brothers and Sisters lawfully may kiss.

Arb.

  And so they may Panthea, so will we,
  And kiss again too; we were too scrupulous,
  And foolish, but we will be so no more.

Pan.

  If you have any mercy, let me go
  To prison, to my death, to any thing: 
  I feel a sin growing upon my blood,
  Worse than all these, hotter than yours.

Arb.

  That is impossible, what shou’d we do?

Pan.

Flie Sir, for Heavens sake.

Arb.

So we must away,
Sin grows upon us more by this delay.

[Exeunt several wayes.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Mardonius And Lygones.

Mar.

  Sir, the King has seen your Commission, and believes it, and
  freely by this warrant gives you power to visit Prince Tigranes,
  your Noble Master.

Lygr.

  I thank his Grace and kiss his hand.

Mar.

  But is the main of all your business ended in this?

Lyg.

I have another, but a worse, I am asham’d, it is a business.

Mar.

  You serve a worthy person, and a stranger I am sure you are; you
  may imploy me if you please without your purse, such Offices
  should ever be their own rewards.

Lyg.

  I am bound to your Nobleness.

Mar.

  I may have need of you, and then this courtesie,
  If it be any, is not ill bestowed;
  But may I civilly desire the rest? 
  I shall not be a hurter if no helper.

Lyg.

  Sir you shall know I have lost a foolish Daughter,
  And with her all my patience, pilfer’d away
  By a mean Captain of your Kings.

Mar.

  Stay there Sir: 
  If he have reacht the Noble worth of Captain,
  He may well claim a worthy Gentlewoman,
  Though she were yours, and Noble.

Lyg.

  I grant all that too:  but this wretched fellow
  Reaches no further than the empty name
  That serves to feed him; were he valiant,
  Or had but in him any noble nature
  That might hereafter promise him a good man,
  My cares were so much lighter, and my grave
  A span yet from me.

Mar.