_Enter_ the EARL OF LINCOLN _and_ DODGER.
_Lincoln._ How now, good Dodger, what’s the news in France?
_Dodger._ My lord, upon the eighteenth day of May
The French and English were prepared to fight;
Each side with eager fury gave the sign
Of a most hot encounter. Five long hours
Both armies fought together; at the length
The lot of victory fell on our side.
Twelve thousand of the Frenchmen that day died,
Four thousand English, and no man of name
But Captain Hyam and young Ardington,
Two gallant gentlemen, I knew them well.
_Lincoln._ But Dodger, prithee, tell me, in this fight
How did my cousin Lacy bear himself?
_Dodger._ My lord, your cousin Lacy was not there.
_Lincoln._ Not there?
_Dodger._ No, my good lord.
_Lincoln._ Sure, thou mistakest.
I saw him shipped, and a thousand eyes beside
Were witnesses of the farewells which he gave,
When I, with weeping eyes, bid him adieu.
Dodger, take heed.
_Dodger._ My lord, I am advised,
That what I spake is true: to prove it so,
His cousin Askew, that supplied his place,
Sent me for him from France, that secretly
He might convey himself thither.
_Lincoln._ Is’t even so?
Dares he so carelessly venture his life
Upon the indignation of a king?
Has he despised my love, and spurned those favours
Which I with prodigal hand poured on his head?
He shall repent his rashness with his soul;
Since of my love he makes no estimate,
I’ll make him wish he had not known my hate.
Thou hast no other news?
_Dodger._ None else, my lord.
_Lincoln._ None worse I know thou hast.--Procure the king
To crown his giddy brows with ample honours,
Send him chief colonel, and all my hope
Thus to be dashed! But ’tis in vain to grieve,
One evil cannot a worse relieve.
Upon my life, I have found out his plot;
That old dog, Love, that fawned upon him so,
Love to that puling girl, his fair-cheeked Rose,
The lord mayor’s daughter, hath distracted him,
And in the fire of that love’s lunacy
Hath he burnt up himself, consumed his credit,
Lost the king’s love, yea, and I fear, his life,
Only to get a wanton to his wife,
Dodger, it is so.
_Dodger._ I fear so, my good lord.
_Lincoln._ It is so--nay, sure it cannot be!
I am at my wits’ end. Dodger!
_Dodger._ Yea, my lord.
_Lincoln._ Thou art acquainted with my nephew’s haunts;
Spend this gold for thy pains; go seek him out;
Watch at my lord mayor’s--there if he live,
Dodger, thou shalt be sure to meet with him.
Prithee, be diligent.--Lacy, thy name
Lived once in honour, now ’tis dead in shame.--
Be circumspect. [_Exit._
_Dodger._ I warrant you, my lord. [_Exit._
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