Thes. Are they all thus?
Per. They are all the sons of honor.
Thes. Now as I have a soul, I long to see 'em,
Lady, you shall see men fight now.
Hip. I wish it,
But not the cause my Lord; They would shew
Bravely about the Titles of two Kingdoms;
'Tis pity Love should be so tyrannous:
Oh my soft-hearted Sister, what think you?
Weep not, till they weep bloud: Wench it must be.
Thes. You have steel'd 'em with your Beauty: honor'd friend,
To you I give the Field; pray order it,
Fitting the persons that must use it.
Per. Yes Sir.
Thes. Come, I'll go visit 'em: I cannot stay,
Their fame has fir'd me so; till they appear,
Good friend be royal.
Per. There shall want no bravery.
Emil. Poor wench go weep, for whosoever wins,
Looses a noble Cosin, for thy sins. [Exeunt.