Look on this fellow.

_2 Gent_. I know him; 'tis the valiant brave Lieutenant.
Leo. Canst thou hear this, and play the Rogue? steal off quickly,
Behind me quickly neatly do it,
And rush into the thickest of the enemy,
And if thou kill'st but two.

_Lieu_. You may excuse me,
'Tis not my fault: I dare not fight.

_Leo_. Be rul'd yet,
I'le beat thee on; goe wink and fight: a plague upon your sheeps heart.

_2 Gent_. What's all this matter?

_1 Gent_. Nay I cannot shew ye.

_Leo_. Here's twenty pound, goe but smell to 'em.

_Lieu_. Alas Sir,
I have taken such a cold I can smell nothing.

_Leo_. I can smell a Rascal, a rank Rascal:
Fye, how he stinks, stinks like a tyred Jade.

_2 Gent_. What Sir?

_Leo_. Why, that Sir, do not you smell him?

_2 Gent_. Smell him?

_Lieu_. I must endure.

_Leo_. Stinks like a dead Dog, Carrion--
There's no such damnable smell under Heaven,
As the faint sweat of a Coward: will ye fight yet?

_Lieu_. Nay, now I defie ye; ye have spoke the worst ye can
Of me, and if every man should take what you say
To the heart.--

_Leo_. God ha' Mercy,
God ha' Mercy with all my heart; here I forgive thee;
And fight, or fight not, do but goe along with us,
And keep my Dog.

_Lieu_. I love a good Dog naturally.

_1 Gent_. What's all this stir, Lieutenant?

_Lieu_. Nothing Sir,
But a slight matter of argument.

_Leo_. Pox take thee.
Sure I shall love this Rogue, he's so pretty a Coward.
Come Gentlemen, let's up now, and if fortune
Dare play the slut again, I'le never more Saint her,
Come play-fellow, come, prethee come up; come chicken,
I have a way shall fit yet: A tame knave,
Come, look upon us.

_Lieu_. I'le tell ye who does best boyes. [_Exeunt._

_SCENA IV._

_Enter_ Antigonus, _and_ Menippus, _above_.

_Men_. I saw her coming out.

_Ant_. Who waits upon her?

_Men_. _Timon_, _Charinthus_, and some other Gentlemen,
By me appointed.

_Ant_. Where's your wife?

_Men_. She's ready
To entertain her here Sir; and some Ladies
Fit for her lodgings.

_Ant_. How shews she in her trim now?

_Men_. Oh most divinely sweet.

_Ant_. Prethee speak softly.
How does she take her coming?

_Men_. She bears it bravely;
But what she thinks--For Heaven sake Sir preserve me--
If the Prince chance to find this.

_Ant_. Peace ye old fool;
She thinks to meet him here.

_Men_. That's all the Project.

_Ant_. Was she hard to bring?

_Men_. No she believ'd it qu