it in a glass; it looks so
like a Visour.

[_Exeunt _2_., _3_., and Woman_.

_1 Cit_.

You'l be hang'd sirra: Come _Philip_ walk before us homewards;
did not his Majesty say he had brought us home Pease for all our
money?

_2 Cit_.

Yes marry did he.

_1 Cit_.

They're the first I heard of this year by my troth, I longed for
some of 'em: did he not say we should have some?

_2 Cit_.

Yes, and so we shall anon I warrant you have every one a peck
brought home to our houses.

_Actus Tertius_.

_Enter_ Arbaces _and_ Gobrias.

_Arb_.

My Sister take it ill?

_Gob_.

Not very ill.
Something unkindly she does take it Sir to have
Her Husband chosen to her hands.

_Arb_.

Why _Gobrias_ let her, I must have her know, my will and not her
own must govern her: what will she marry with some slave at home?

_Gob_.

O she is far from any stubbornness, you much mistake her, and no
doubt will like where you would have her, but when you behold
her, you will be loth to part with such a jewel.

_Arb_.

To part with her? why _Gobrias_, art thou mad? she is my Sister.

_Gob_.

Sir, I know she is: but it were pity to make poor our Land, with
such a beauty to enrich another.

_Arb_.

Pish will she have him?

_Gob_.

I do hope she will not, I think she will Sir.

_Arb_.

Were she my Father and my Mother too, and all the names for which
we think folks friends, she should be forc't to have him when I
know 'tis fit: I will not hear her say she's loth.

_Gob_.

Heaven bring my purpose luckily to pass, you know 'tis just, she
will not need constraint she loves you so.

_Arb_.

How does she love me, speak?

_Gob_.

She loves you more than people love their health,
that live by labour; more than I could love a man that died
for me, if he could live again.

_Arb_.

She is not like her mother then.

_Gob_.

O no, when you were in _Armenia_,
I durst not let her know when you were hurt:
For at the first on every little scratch,
She kept her Chamber, wept, and could not eat,
Till you were well, and many times the news
Was so long coming, that before we heard
She was as near her death, as you your health.

_Arb_.

Alas poor soul, but yet she must be rul'd;
I know not how I shall requite her well.
I long to see her, have you sent for her,
To tell her I am ready?

_Gob_.