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Nor do I require it, The malady needs no Physician, Help hospital people.
Hyparcha:
I am glad to hear You are so valiant.
Mochingo:
Valiant?
Can any man be proud that is not valiant?
Foolish Woman, what would'st thou say? thou-- know not what to call thee.
Hyparcha:
I can you, For I can call you c.o.xcomb, a.s.s, and Puppy.
Mochingo:
You do doe it, I thank you.
Hyparcha:
That you'll lose a Fortune, Which a Cobler better deserves than thou dost.
Mochingo:
Do not provoke my magnanimity, For when I am incens'd I am insensible, Go tell thy Lady, that hath sent me word She will discard me, that I discard her, And throw a scorn upon her, which I would not, But that she does me wrong.
[Enter _Erota_, and _Antinous_.]
Erota:
Do you not glory in your Conquest more, To take some great man Prisoner, than to kill him?
And shall a Lady find less mercy from you, That yields her self your Captive, and for her Ransome, Will give the Jewel of her life, her heart, Which she hath lockt from all men but thy self?
For shame (_Antinous_) throw this dulness off; Art thou a man no where but in the field?
277]
Hyparcha:
He must hear Drums, and Trumpets ere he sleeps, And at this instant dreams he's in his Armour; These iron-hearted Souldiers are so cold, Till they be beaten to a Womans Arms, And then they love 'em better than their own; No Fort can hold them out.
Antinous:
What pity it is (Madam) that your self, Who are all Excellence, should become so wretched, To think on such a Wretch as Grief hath made me!
Seldome despairing men look up to Heaven, Although it still speak to 'em in its Glories; For when sad thoughts perplex the mind of man, There is a Plummet in the heart that weighs, And pulls us (living) to the dust we came from; Did you but see the miseries you pursue, (As I the happiness that I avoid That doubles my afflictions) you would flye Unto some Wilderness, or to your Grave, And there find better Comforts than in me, For Love and Cares can never dwell together.
Erota:
They should, If thou hadst but my Love and I thy Cares.
Antinous:
What wild Beast in the Desart but would be Taught by this Tongue to leave his Cruelty, Though all the beauties of the face were vail'd!
But I am savager than any Beast, And shall be so till _Decius_ does arrive, Whom with so much submission I have sent Under my hand, that if he do not bring His Benediction back, he must to me Be much more cruel than I to you.
Erota:
Is't but your Fathers pardon you desire?
Antinous:
With his love, and then nothing next that, like yours.
[Enter _Decius_]
Erota:
_Decius_ is come.
Antinous:
O welcome Friend; if I apprehend not Too much of joy, there's comfort in thy looks.
Erota:
There is indeed; I prithee _Decius_ speak it.
Decius:
How! prithee _Decius_! this Woman's strangely alter'd.
278]
Antinous:
Why dost not speak (good friend) and tell me how The reverend Blessing of my life receiv'd My humble lines; wept he for joy?
Decius:
No, there's a Letter will inform you more; Yet I can tell you what I think will grieve you, The Old Man is in want and angry still, And poverty is the Bellows to the Coal More than distaste from you as I imagine.
Antinous:
What's here? how's this? It cannot be! now sure My griefs delude my senses.
Erota:
In his looks I read a world of Changes; _Decius_, mark With what a sad amazement he surveys The News; canst thou guess what 'tis?
Decius:
