Lysi. His anger's melted.
Dem. You Gentlemen that were his prisoners,
And felt the bounty of that noble nature,
Lay all your hands, and bear these Colours to him,
The Standard of the Kingdom; take it Souldier.
Ptol. What will this mean?
Dem. Thou hast won it, bear it off, And draw thy men home whilest we wait upon thee.
Sel. You shall have all our Countries.
Lysi. Ptol. All by Heaven, Sir.
Dem. I will not have a stone, a bush, a bramble,
No, in the way of courtesie, I'le start ye;
Draw off, and make a lane through all the Army,
That these that have subdu'd us, may march through us.
Sel. Sir, do not make me surfeit with such goodness, I'le bear your Standard for ye; follow ye.
Dem. I swear it shall be so, march through me fairly, And thine be this days honour, great Seleucus.
Ptol. Mirrour of noble minds.