en_. Yes Sir presently. [_Exit._

_Ant_. He will find his tongue, I warrant ye; his health too;
I send a physick will not fail.

_Lord_. Fair work it.

_Ant_. We hear the Princes mean to visit us
In way of truce.

_Lord_. 'Tis thought so.

_Ant_. Come: let's in then,
And think upon the noblest wayes to meet 'em. [_Exeunt._

_SCENA VIII._

_Enter Leontius._

_Leo_. There's no way now to get in: all the light stopt too;
Nor can I hear a sound of him, pray Heaven
He use no violence: I think he has more Soul,
Stronger, and I hope nobler: would I could but see once,
This beauty he groans under, or come to know
But any circumstance. What noise is that there?
I think I heard him groan: here are some coming;
A woman too, I'le stand aloof, and view 'em.

_Enter Menippus, Celia, Lords._

_Cel_. Well, some of ye have been to blame in this point,
But I forgive ye: The King might have pickt out too
Some fitter woman to have tri'd his valour.

_Men_. 'Twas all to the best meant, Lady.

_Cel_. I must think so,
For how to mend it now: he's here you tell me?

_Men_. He's Madam, and the joy to see you only
Will draw him out.

_Leo_. I know that womans tongue,
I think I have seen her face too: I'le goe nearer:
If this be she, he has some cause of sorrow:
'Tis the same face; the same, most excellent woman.

_Cel_. This should be Lord _Leontius_: I remember him.

_Leo_. Lady, I think ye know me.

_Cel_. Speak soft, good Souldier:
I do, and know ye worthy, know ye noble;
Know not me yet openly, as you love me;
But let me see ye again, I'le satisfie ye:
I am wondrous glad to see those eyes.

_Leo_. You have charged me.

_Cel_. You shall know where I am.

_Leo_. I will not off yet:
She goes to knock at's door: This must be she
The fellow told me of: right glad I am on't,
He will bolt now for certain.

_Cel_. Are ye within Sir?
I'le trouble you no more: I thank your courtesie,
Pray leave me now.

_All_. _Me_. We rest your humble servants. [_Ex. Me. &c._

_Cel_. So now my jives are off: pray Heaven he be here!
Master, my royal Sir: do you hear who calls ye?
Love, my _Demetrius_.

_Leo_. These are pretty quail-pipes,
The Cock will Crow anon.

_Cel_. Can ye be drowsie,
When I call at your Window?

_Leo_. I hear him stirring:
Now he comes wondring out.

_Enter Demetrius._

_Dem_. 'Tis _Celias_ sound sure:
The sweetness of that tongue draws all hearts to it;
There stands the sh