The Queene Mardonius, Panthea is the Queene,
And I am plaine Arbaces, goe some one,
She is in Gobrius house; since I saw you
There are a thousand things delivered to me
You little dreame of.
Mar.
So it should seeme: My Lord,
What furi's this.
Gob.
Beleeve me tis no fury,
All that he sayes is truth.
Mar.
Tis verie strange.
Arb.
Why doe you keepe your hats off Gentlemen,
Is it to me? in good faith it must not be:
I cannot now command you, but I pray you
For the respect you bare me, when you tooke
Me for your King, each man clap on his hat at my desire.
Mar.