VIL. No, for, my lord, had you beholde the traine
That fained loue had coloured in his lookes
When he in campe consorted Balthazar,
Farre more inconstant had you thought the sunne,
That howerly coasts the center of the earth,
Then Alexandros purpose to the prince.

VICE. No more, Villuppo! thou hast said enough,
And with thy words thou saiest our wounded thoughts.
Nor shall I longer dally with the world,
Procrastinating Alexandros death.
Goe, some of you, and fetch the traitor forth,
That, as he is condemned, he may dye.

Enter ALEXANDRO, with a NOBLE-MAN and
HALBERTS.

NOB. In such extreames will nought but patience serue.

ALEX. But in extreames what patience shall I vse?
Nor discontents it me to leaue the world,
With whome there nothing can preuaile but wrong.

NOB. Yet hope the best.

ALEX. Tis heauen my hope:
As for the earth, it is too much infect
To yeeld me hope of any of her mould.

VICE. Why linger ye? bring froth that daring feend,