there's at your coxcombs,
I fight to save me from the Surgions miseries.

_Leo_. How the Knave curries 'em?

_Lieu_. You cannot Rogues,
Till you have my Diseases, flie my fury,
Ye Bread and Butter Rogues, do ye run from me?
And my side would give me leave, I would so hunt ye,
Ye Porridg gutted Slaves, ye Veal broth-Boobies.

_Enter Demetrius, and Physicians, and Gentlemen._

_Leo_. Enough, enough _Lieutenant_, thou hast done bravely.

_Dem_. Mirrour of man.

_Lieu_. There's a Flag for ye, Sir,
I took it out o'th' shop, and never paid for't,
I'le to 'em again, I am not come to th' text yet.

_Dem_. No more my Souldier: beshrew my heart he is hurt sore.

_Leo_. Hang him, he'l lick all th^se whole.

_1 Phy_. Now will we take him,
And Cure him in a trice.

_Dem_. Be careful of him.

_Lieu_. Let me live but two years,
And do what ye will with me;
I never had but two hours yet of happiness;
Pray ye give me nothing to provoke my valour,
For I am ev'n as weary of this fighting--

_2 Phy_. Ye shall have nothing; come to the Princes Tent
And there the Surgions presently shall search ye,
Then to your rest.

_Lieu_. A little handsome Litter
To lay me in, and I shall sleep.

_Leo_. Look to him.

_Dem_. I do believe a Horse begot this fellow,
He never knew his strength yet; they are our own.

_Leo_. I think so, I am cozen'd else; I would but see now
A way to fetch these off, and save their honours.

_Dem_. Only their lives.

_Leo_. Pray ye take no way of peace now,
Unless it be with infinite advantage.

_Dem_. I shall be rul'd;
Let the Battels now move forward,
Our self will give the signal: _Enter_ Trumpet _and_ Herald.
Now Herald, what's your message?

_Her_. From my Masters,
This honourable courtesie, a Parley
For half an hour, no more, Sir.

_Dem_. Let 'em come on,
They have my Princely word.

_Enter_ Seleucus, Lysimacus, Ptolomie, _Attendants, Souldiers._

_Her_. They are here to attend ye.

_Dem_. Now Princes, your demands?

_Sel_. Peace, if it may be
Without the too much tainture of our honour:
Peace, and we'l buy it too.

_Dem_. At what price?

_Lysi_. Tribute.

_Ptol_. At all the charge of this War.

_Leo_. That will not do.

_Sel_. _Leontius_, you and I have serv'd together,
And run through many a Fortune with our swords,
Brothers in Wounds and Health; one meat has fed us,
One Tent a thousand times from cold night cover'd us:
Our loves have been but one; and had we d