Leon. O well sed: let me see it, I could me thinks
Why Telamon, bring me another: what, thinkst thou
I will wear a sword in vain?
Tela. He has not strength enough to draw it,
A yoak of Fleas ty'd to a hair would have drawn it.
'Tis out sir now, the Scabbard is broke.
Leon. O put it up again, and on with it; me thinks I
am not drest till I feel my sword on.
Telamon, if any of my counsell aske for me,
Say I am gone to take the air.
Tima. He has not been drest this twenty years then, If
this vain hold but a week, he will learn to play o'th base
violl and sing to't: He's poetical alreadie;
For I have spide a Sonnet on's making lye by's beds side,
I'll be so unmannerly to read it. [Exit.
Enter Hidaspes, Cleophila, and Hero, Hidaspes in a Bed.
[Hida.] He's dead, he's dead, and I am following.
Cleo. Ask Cupid mercie Madam.
Hida. O my heart.
Cleo. Help!
Hero. Stir her: