That ever I should view thy tedious face.---

Cris. Horace, what passion, what humour is this?

Hor.
Away, good prodigy, afllict me not.
A friend, and mock me thus! Never was man
So left under the axe.---
[Enter Minos with two Lictors.

How now?

Min. That's he in the embroidered hat, there, with the ash-colour'd
feather: his name is Laberius Crispinus.

Lict. Laberius Crispinus, I arrest you in the emperor's name.

Cris. Me, sir! do you arrest me?

Lice. Ay, sir, at the suit of master Minos the apothecary.
[Exit hastily.
Hor. Thanks, great Apollo, I will not slip thy favour offered me in
my escape, for my fortunes.

Cris. Master Minos! I know no master

Minos. Where's Horace? Horace! Horace!

Min. Sir, do not you know me?