Enter Siphax, walks softly over the stage, and goes in.
Would I were well at home; the best is, 'tis not day:
Who's that? ha? Siphax! I'll be with you anon, Sir;
Ye shall be oracled I warrant ye,
And thunder'd too, as well as I; your Lordship
Enter Memnon, Eumenes, Stremon, and two carrying Torches.
Must needs enjoy the Princess, yes: ha! Torches?
And Memnon coming this way? he's Dog-mad,
And ten to one appearing thus unto him,
He worries me, I must go by him.
Eum. Sir?
Mem. Ask me no further questions; what art thou?
How dost thou stare! stand off; nay look upon me,
I do not shake, nor fear thee— [Draws his Sword.
Chi. He will kill me,
This is for Church work.
Mem. Why dost thou appear now?
Thou wert fairly slain: I know thee, Diocles,
And know thine envy to mine honour: but—
Chi. Stay Memnon,
I am a Spirit, and thou canst not hurt me.
Eum. This is the voice of Chilax.
Strem. What makes him thus?
Chi. 'Tis true, that I was slain in field, but foully,
By multitudes, not manhood: therefore mark me,
I do appear again to quit mine honour,
And on thee single.
Mem. I accept the challenge.
Where?
Chi. On the Stygian Banks.
Mem. When?
Chi. Four days hence.
Mem. Go noble Ghost, I will attend.
Chi. I thank ye.
Stre. Ye have sav'd your throat, and handsomly:
Farewel, Sir. [Exit Chilax.
Mem. Sing me the Battles of Pelusium,
In which this Worthy dyed.
Eum. This will spoil all, and make him worse
Than e'r he was: sit down, Sir,
And give your self to rest.
SONG.
Arm, arm, arm, arm, the Scouts are all come in,
Keep your Ranks close, and now your honours win.
Behold from yonder Hill, the Foe appears,
Bows, Bills, Glaves, Arrows, Shields, and Spears,
Like a dark Wood he comes, or tempest pouring;
O view the Wings of Horse the Meadows scowring,
The vant-guard marches bravely, hark, the Drums—dub, dub.
They meet, they meet, and now the Battel comes:
See how the Arrows fly,
That darken all the Skye;
Hark how the Trumpets sound,
Hark how the Hills rebound.—Tara, tara, tara.
Hark how the Horses charge: in Boys, Boys in—tara, tara.
The Battel totters; now the wounds begin;
O how they cry,
O how they dy!
Room for the valiant Memnon arm'd with thunder,
See how he breaks the Ranks asunder:
They flye, they flye, Eumenes has the Chace,
And brave Polybius makes good his place.
To the Plains, to the Woods,
To the Rocks, to the Floods,
They flie for succour: Follow, follow, follow, Hey, hey.
Hark how the Souldiers hollow
Brave Diocles is dead,
And all his Souldiers fled,
The Battel's won, and lost,
That many a life hath cost.
Mem. Now forward to the Temple. [Exeunt.
Enter Chilax.
Chi. Are ye gone?
How have I 'scap'd this morning! by what miracle!
Sure I am ordain'd for some brave end.
Enter Cloe.