out again, and conquer farther;
For I am not ashamed to acknowledge
My self subdued by thee.

Antinous:

Great Lady--

Erota:

Sit still, I will not hear thee else; now speak,
And speak like my _Antinous_, like my Souldier,
Whom _Cupid_, and not _Mars_ hath sent to Battel.

Antinous:

I must (I see) be silent.
272]

Erota:

So thou maist;
There's greater action in it than in clamour,
A look (if it be gracious) will begin the War,
A word conclude it; then prove no Coward,
Since thou hast such a friendly enemy,
That teaches thee to conquer.

Antinous:

You do amaze me, Madam,
I have no skill, no practice in this War,
And whether you be serious, or please
To make your sport on a dejected man,
I cannot rightly guess; but be it as it will,
It is a like unhappiness to me:
My discontents bear those conditions in them,
And lay me out so wretched, no designs
(However truly promising a good)
Can make me relish ought but a sweet-bitter
Voluntary Exile.

Erota:

Why an Exile?
What comfort can there be in those Companions
Which sad thoughts bring along with?

[Enter _Hyparcha_]

Hyparcha:

Madam.

[Musick.

Erota:

Whence comes this well tun'd sound?

Hyparcha:

I know not, Madam.

Erota:

Listen Wench;
What ever friendly hands they are that send it,

[Song.

Let 'em play on; they are Masters of their faculty:
Doth it please you, Sir?

Antinous:

According to the time.

Erota:

Go to 'em, Wench,
And tell 'em, we shall thank 'em; for they have kept
As good time to our disposition, as to their instruments;
Unless _Antinous_ shall say he loves,
There never can be sweeter accents utter'd.

[Enter _Philander_.]

Philander:

Let then the heart that did employ those hands,
Receive some small share of your thanks with them,
'Tis happiness enough that you did like it;
273] A fortune unto me, that I should send it
In such a lucky minute; but to obtain
So gracious welcome did exceed my hopes.

Erota:

Good Prince, I thank you for't.

Philander:

O Ma