_Cle._ Take it; 'tis yours, And goodness is no gall to th' Conscience, I know ye have ways to vent it: ye may hold it.
_Cle._ To morrow morning I'll visit ye again; and when occasion Offers it self--
_Cle._ 'Tis a main work, and full of fear. [_Exit Cle._
_Pri._ Fools only Make their effects seem fearful, farewell daughter. This gold was well got for my old tuff Souldier, Now I shall be his sweet again; what business Is this she has a foot? some lusty lover Beyond her line, the young Wench would fain piddle, A little to revive her must be thought of, 'Tis even so, she must have it; but how by my means, A Devil, can she drive it? I that wait still Before the Goddess, giving Oracle, How can I profit her? 'tis her own project, And if she cast it false, her own fault be it. [_Exit_ Priest.
_Enter_ Polydore, Eumenes, _Captains_, Stremon.
_Eum._ Not yet, Sir, That we can hear of.
_Pol._ Noble Gentlemen, Let me entreat your watches over him, Ye cannot do a worthier work.
_2 Cap._ We came, Sir, Provided for that service.
_Pol._ Let 'em be still so; and as they find his humours.
_Pol._ Stand close, and make no noise; By his eyes now, Gentlemen, I guess him full of anger.
_Mem._ The hour's past long ago, he's false and fearful, Coward, go with thy Caitive soul, thou Cur Dog, Thou cold Clod, wild fire warm thee, monstrous fearful, I know the Slave shakes but to think on't.
_Mem._ But I shall catch ye, Rascal, Your mangy Soul is not immortal here, Sir, Ye must dye, and we must meet; we must, maggot, Be sure we must, for not a Nook of Hell, Not the most horrid Pit shall harbour thee; The Devils tail sha'n't hide thee, but I'll have thee, And how I'll use thee! whips and firebrands: Tosting thy tail against a flame of wild fire, And basting it with Brimstone, shall be nothing, Nothing at all; I'll teach ye to be treacherous: Was never Slave so swing'd since Hell was Hell As I will swinge thy Slaves Soul; and be sure on't.
_Pol._ Is this imagination, or some circumstance? For 'tis extream strange.
_Mem._ Till then I'll leave ye; who's there? where's the Surgeon? _Demagoras?_
_Mem._ Bring the Surgeon: And wait you too.
_Eum._ Things mustring in his head: pray mark.
_Mem._ Come hither, Have you brought your Instruments?