_Ptol_. What will this mean?

_Dem_. Thou hast won it, bear it off,
And draw thy men home whilest we wait upon thee.

_Sel_. You shall have all our Countries.

_Lysi. Ptol_. All by Heaven, Sir.

_Dem_. I will not have a stone, a bush, a bramble,
No, in the way of courtesie, I'le start ye;
Draw off, and make a lane through all the Army,
That these that have subdu'd us, may march through us.

_Sel_. Sir, do not make me surfeit with such goodness,
I'le bear your Standard for ye; follow ye.

_Dem_. I swear it shall be so, march through me fairly,
And thine be this days honour, great _Seleucus_.

_Ptol_. Mirrour of noble minds.

_Dem_. Nay then ye hate me.

_Leo_. I cannot speak now: _ [Ex. with Drums, and Shouts._
Well, go thy wayes; at a sure piece of bravery
Thou art the best, these men are won by th' necks now:
I'le send a Post away.

_ACTUS QUARTUS. SCENA PRIMA._

_Enter Antigonus, and Menippus._

_Ant_. No aptness in her?

_Men_. Not an immodest motion,
And yet when she is courted,
Makes as wild witty answers.

_Ant_. This more fires me,
I must not have her thus.

_Men_. We cannot alter her.

_Ant_. Have ye put the youths upon her?

_Men_. All that know any thing,
And have been studied how to catch a beauty,
But like so many whelps about an Elephant--
The Prince is coming home, Sir.

_Ant_. I hear that too,
But that's no matter; am I alter'd well?

_Men_. Not to be known I think, Sir.

_Ant_. I must see her.

_Enter 2 Gentlemen, or Lords._

_1 Gent_. I offered all I had, all I could think of,
I tri'd her through all the points o'th' compass, I think.

_2 Gent_. She studies to undo the Court, to plant here
The Enemy to our Age, Chastity;
She is the first, that e're bauk'd a close Arbour,
And the sweet contents within: She hates curl'd heads too,
And setting up of beards she swears is Idolatry.

_1 Gent_. I never knew so fair a face so froze;
Yet she would make one think--

_2 Gent_. True by her carriage,
For she's as wanton as a Kid to th' out side,
As full of Mocks and Taunts: I kiss'd her hand too,
Walkt with her half an hour.

_1 Gent_. She heard me sing,
And sung her self too; she sings admirably;
But still when any hope was, as 'tis her trick
To minister enough of those, then presently
With some new flam or other, nothing to the matter,
And such a frown, as would sink all before her,
She takes her Chamber; come, we shall not be the last fools.

_2 Gent_. No