Arb.

Where is he, I know your businesse good Ligones.

Lig.

  We must have our King againe, and will.

Arb.

  I knew that was your businesse, you shall have
  You King againe, and have him so againe
  As never King was had.  Goe one of you
  And bid Bacurius bring Tigranes hither,
  And bring the Ladie with him, that Panthea
  The Queene Panthea sent me word this morning
  Was brave Tigranes mistresse.

Lig.

  Tis Spaconia.

Arb.

  I, I, Spaconia.

Lig.

  She is my daughter.

Arb.

  Shee is so, I could now tell any thing
  I never heard; your King shall goe so home
  As never man went.

Mar.

  Shall he goe on’s head?

Arb.

  He shall have Chariots easier than ayre
  That I will have invented; and nere thinke
  He shall pay any ransome; and thy selfe
  That art the Messenger shall ride before him
  On a Horse cut out of an entire Diamond,
  That shall be made to goe with golden wheeles,
  I know not how yet.

Lig.

  Why I shall be made
  For ever, they belied this King with us
  And sayd he was unkind.

Arb.

And then thy daughter,
She shall have some strange thinke, wele have the Kingdome
Sold utterly, and put into a toy. 
Which she shall weare about her carelesly
Some where or other. 
See the vertuous Queene.

Enter Pan.

Behold the humblest subject that you have
Kneele here before you. Pan.  Why kneele you
To me that am your vassall?

Arb.

Grant me one request.

Pan.

  Alas, what can I grant you? 
  What I can I will.

Arb.

  That you will please to marry me,
  If I can prove it lawfull.

Pan.

  Is that all? 
  More willingly, then I would draw this ayre.

Arb.

  Ile kisse this hand in earnest.

Mar.

  Sir, Tigranes is comming though he made it strange
  To see the Princesse any more.

Arb.

The Queene,

          Enter Tig. and Spa.

  Thou meanest:  O my Tigranes pardon me,
  Tread on my necke I freely offer it,
  And if thou beest so given; take revenge,
  For I have injur’d thee.

Tig.

  No, I forgive,
  And rejoice more that you have found repentance,
  Then I my libertie.

Arb.

  Maist thou be happie
  In thy faire choice; for thou art temperate: 
  You owe no ransome to the state, know that;
  I have a thousand joyes to tell you of,
  Which yet I dare not utter, till I pay
  My thankes to Heaven for um:  will you goe
  With me, and helpe me; pray you doe.