Corn. Mercie on us: ha you not forgot your self? by you[r] swearing you should be knighted already.
Nich. Damn me, Sir, here's his hand, read it.
Corn. Alas, I cannot.
Nich. I know that.
It has pleas'd the General to look upon my service. Now, Sir, shall you joyn with me in petitioning for fifty men more, in regard of my arrearages to you; which if granted, I will bestow the whole profit of those fifty men on thee and thine heirs for ever, till Atropos do cut this simple thred.
Corn. No more, dear Corporal, Sir Nichodemus, that shall be, I cry your wishes mercie: I am your servant body and goods, moveables and immoveables; use my house, use my wife, use me, abuse me, do what you list.
Nich. A figment is a candid lye: this is an old Pass. Mark what follows. [Exeunt.
Enter Martius, and two Captains.
Mar. Pray leave me: you are Romans, honest men,
Keep me not company, I am turn'd knave,
Have lost my fame and nature. Athens, Athens,
This Dorigen is thy Palladium:
He that will sack thee, must betray her first,
Whose words wound deeper than her husbands sword;
Her eyes make captive still the Conqueror,
And here they keep her only to that end.
O subtill devil, what a golden ball
Did tempt, when thou didst cast her in my way!
Why, foolish Sophocles, broughtst thou not to field
Thy Lady, that thou mightst have overcome?
Martius had kneel'd, and yielded all his wreathes
That hang like Jewels on the seven-fold hill,
And bid Rome, send him out to fight with men,
(For that she knew he durst) and not 'gainst Fate
Or Deities, what mortal conquers them?
Insatiate Julius, when his Victories
Had run ore half the world, had he met her,
There he had stopt the legend of his deeds,
Laid by his Arms, been overcome himself,
And let her vanquish th' other half. And fame
Made beauteous Dorigen, the greater name.
Shall I thus fall? I will not; no, my tears
Cast on my heart, shall quench these lawless fires:
He conquers best, conquers his lewd desires.
Enter Dorigen, with Ladyes.