Produced by Jonathan Ingram and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE
LOYAL SUBJECT,
A
TRAGI-COMEDY.
Persons Represented in the Play.
_Great_ Duke _of_ Moscovia.
Archas, _the Loyal Subject_, _General of the_ Moscovites.
Theodore, _Son to_ Archas; _valorous, but impatient_.
Putskie _alias_ Briskie, _a Captain_, _Brother to_ Archas.
Alinda _alias_ Archas, _Son to_ Archas.
Burris, _an honest Lord_, _the Dukes Favourite_.
Boroskie, _a malicious seducing Councellor to the Duke_.
_Ensign to_ Archas, _a stout merry Souldier_.
_Souldiers._
_Gentlemen._
_Guard._
_Servants._
_WOMEN._
Olympia, _Sister to the Duke_.
Honora, } _Daughters of_ Archas.
Viola, }
Potesca, } _Servants to_ Olympia.
Ladies, }
_Bawd_, _a Court Lady_.
_The Scene_ Mosco.
The principal Actors were,
_Richard Burbadge._ } { _Nathanael Feild._
_Henry Condel._ } { _John Underwood._
_John Lowin._ } { _Nicholas Toolie._
_Richard Sharpe._ } { _William Eglestone._
_Actus primus. Scena prima._
_Enter_ Theodor _and_ Putskie.
_The._ Captain, your friend's prefer'd, the Princess has her,
Who, I assure my self, will use her nobly;
A pretty sweet one 'tis indeed.
_Put._ Well bred, Sir,
I do deliver that upon my credit,
And of an honest stock.
_The._ It seems so, Captain,
And no doubt will do well.
_Put._ Thanks to your care, Sir;
But tell me Noble Colonel, why this habit
Of discontent is put on through the Army?
And why your valiant Father, our great General,
The hand that taught to strike, the Love that led all;
Why he, that was the Father of the War,
He that begot, and bred the Souldier,
Why he sits shaking of his Arms, like Autumn,
His Colours folded, and his Drums cas'd up,
The tongue of War for ever ty'd within us?
_The._ It must be so: Captain you are a stranger,
But of a small time here a Souldier,
Yet that time shews ye a right good, and great one,
Else I could tell ye hours are strangely alter'd:
The young Duke has too many eyes upon him,
Too many fears 'tis thought too, and to nourish those,
Maintains too many Instruments.
_Put._ Turn their hearts,
Or turn their heels up, Heaven: 'Tis strange it should be:
The old Duke lov'd him dearly.
_The._ He deserv'd it;
And were he not my Father, I durst tell ye,
The memorable hazards he has run through
Deserv'd of this man too; highly deserv'd too;
Had they been less, they had been safe _Putskie_,
And sooner reach'd regard.
_Put._ There you struck sure, Sir.
_The._ Did I never tell thee of a vow he made
Some years before the old Duke dyed?
_Put._ I have heard ye
Speak often of that vow; but how it was,
Or to what end, I never understood yet.
_The._ I'le tell thee then: and then thou wilt find the reason:
The last great Muster, ('twas before ye serv'd here,
Before the last Dukes death, whose honour'd bones
Now rest in peace) this young Prince had the ordering,
(To Crown his Fathers hopes) of all the Army:
Who (to be short) put all his power to practise;
Fashion'd, and drew 'em up: but alas, so poorly,
So raggedly and loosely, so unsouldier'd,
The good Duke blush'd, and call'd unto my Father,
Who then was General: Go, _Archas_, speedily,
And chide the Boy, before the Souldiers find him,
Stand thou between his ignorance and them,
Fashion their bodies new to thy direction;
Then draw thou up, and shew the Prince his errours.
My Sire obey'd, and did so; with all duty
Inform'd the Prince, and read him all directions:
This bred distaste, distaste grew up to anger,
And anger into wild words broke out thus:
Well, _Archas_, if I live but to command here,
To be but Duke once, I shall then remember.
I shall remember truly, trust me, I shall,
And by my Fathers hand--the rest his eyes spoke.
To which my Father answer'd (somewhat mov'd too)
And with a vow he seal'd it: Royal Sir,
Since for my faith and fights, your scorn and anger
Only pursue me; if I live to that day,
That day so long expected to reward me,
By his so ever noble hand you swore by,
And by the hand of Justice, never Arms more
Shall rib this body in, nor sword hang here, Sir:
The Conflicts I will do you service then in,
Shall be repentant prayers: So they parted.
The time is come; and now ye know the wonder.
_Put._ I find a fear too, which begins to tell me,
The Duke will have but poor and slight defences,
If his hot humour raign, and not his honour:
How stand you with him, Sir?
_The._ A perdue Captain,
Full of my Fathers danger.
_P[ut]._ He has rais'd a young man,
They say a slight young man, I know him not,
For what desert?
_The._ Believe it, a brave Gentleman,
Worth the Dukes respect, a clear sweet Gentleman,
And of a noble soul: Come let's retire us,
And wait upon my Father, who within this hour
You will find an alter'd man.
_Put._ I am sorry for't, Sir. [_Exeunt._
SCENE II.
_Enter_ Olympia, _and two Gentlewomen_.
_Olym._ Is't not a handsome Wench?
_2 Wom._ She is well enough, Madam:
I have seen a better face, and a straighter body,
And yet she is a pretty Gentlewoman.
_Olym._ What thinkst thou _Petesca_?
_Pet._ Alas, Madam, I have no skill, she has a black eye,
Which is of the least too, and the dullest water:
And when her mouth was made, for certain Madam,
Nature intended her a right good stomach.
_Olym._ She has a good hand.
_2 Wom._ 'Tis good enough to hold fast,
And strong enough to strangle the neck of a Lute.
_Olym._ What think ye of her colour?
_Pet._ If it be her own
'Tis good black blood: right weather-proof
I warrant it.
_2 Wom._ What a strange pace she has got!
_Olym._ That's but her breeding.
_Pet._ And what a manly body! me thinks she looks
As though she would pitch the Bar, or go to Buffets.
_2 Wom._ Yet her behaviour's utterly against it,
For me thinks she is too bashful.
_Olym._ Is that hurtful?
_2 Wom._ Even equal to too bold: either of 'em, Madam,
May do her injury when time shall serve her.
_Olym._ You discourse learnedly, call in the wench. [_Ex. Gent._
What envious fools are you? Is the rule general,
That Women can speak handsomly of none,
But those they are bred withal?
_Pet._ Scarce well of those, Madam,
If they believe they may out-shine 'em any way:
Our natures are like Oyl, compound us with any thing,
Yet still we strive to swim o' th' top:
Suppose there were here now,
Now in this Court of _Mosco_, a stranger Princess,
Of bloud and beauty equal to your excellence,
As many eyes and services stuck on her;
What would you think?
_Olym._ I would think she might deserve it.
_Pet._ Your Grace shall give me leave not to believe ye;
I know you are a Woman, and so humour'd:
I'le tell ye Madam, I could then get more Gowns on ye,
More Caps and Feathers, more Scarfs, and more Silk-stockings
With rocking you asleep with nightly railings
Upon that Woman, than if I had nine lives
I could wear out: by this hand ye'would scratch her eyes out.
_Olym._ Thou art deceiv'd fool;
Now let your own eye mock ye.
_Enter Gentlewoman and_ Alinda.
Come hither Girl: hang me and she be not a handsom one.
_Pet._ I fear it will prove indeed so.
_Olym._ Did you ever serve yet
In any place of worth?
_Alin._ No, Royal Lady.
_Pet._ Hold up your head; fie.
_Olym._ Let her alone, stand from her.
_Alin._ It shall be now,
Of all the blessings my poor youth has pray'd for,
The greatest and the happiest to serve you;
And might my promise carry but that credit
To be believ'd, because I am yet a stranger,
Excellent Lady, when I fall from duty,
From all the service that my life can lend me,
May everlasting misery then find me.
_Olym._ What think ye now? I do believe, and thank ye;
And sure I shall not be so far forgetful,
To see that honest faith die unrewarded:
What must I call your name?
_Alin._ _Alinda_, Madam.
_Olym._ Can ye sing?
_Alin._ A little, when my grief will give me leave, Lady.
_Olym._ What grief canst thou have Wench?
Thou art not in love?
_Alin._ If I be Madam, 'tis only with your goodness;
For yet I never saw that man I sighed for.
_Olym._ Of what years are you?
_Alin._ My Mother oft has told me,
That very day and hour this land was blest
With your most happy birth, I first saluted
This worlds fair light: Nature was then so busie,
And all the Graces to adorn your goodness,
I stole into the world poor and neglected.
_Olym._ Something there was, when I first look'd upon thee,
Made me both like and love thee: now I know it;
And you shall find that knowledge shall not hurt you:
I hope ye are a Maid?
_Alin._ I hope so too, Madam;
I am sure for any man: and were I otherwise,
Of all the services my hopes could point at,
I durst not touch at yours.
_Flourish. Enter Duke_, Burris, _and Gent._
_Pet._ The great Duke, Madam.
_Duk._ Good morrow, Sister.
_Olym._ A good day to your highness.
_Duk._ I am come to pray you use no more perswasions
For this old stubborn man: nay to command ye:
His sail is swell'd too full: he is grown too insolent,
Too self-affected, proud: those poor slight services
He has done my Father, and my self, has blown him
To such a pitch, he flyes to stoop our favours.
_Olym._ I am sorry Sir: I ever thought those services
Both great and noble.
_Bur._ However, may it please ye
But to consider 'em a true hearts Servants,
Done out of faith to you, and not self-fame:
Do but consider royal Sir, the dangers;
When you have slept secure, the mid-night tempests,
That as he marcht sung through his aged locks;
When you have fed at full, the wants and famins;
The fires of Heaven, when you have found all temperate,
Death with his thousand doors--
_Duk._ I have consider'd;
No more: and that I will have, shall be.
_Olym._ For the best,
I hope all still.
_Duk._ What handsom wench is that there?
_Olym._ My Servant, Sir.
_Duk._ Prethee observe her _Burris_,
Is she not wondrous handsom? speak thy freedom.
_Bur._ She appears no less to me Sir.
_Duk._ Of whence is she?
_Ol._ Her Father I am told is a good Gentleman,
But far off dwelling: her desire to serve me
Brought her to th' Court, and here her friends have left her.
_Du._ She may find better friends:
Ye are welcom fair one,
I have not seen a sweeter: By your Ladies leave:
Nay stand up sweet, we'll have no superstition:
You have got a Servant; you may use him kindly,
And he may honour ye: [_Ex._ Duke _and_ Burris.
Good morrow Sister.
_Ol._ Good morrow to your Grace. How the wench blushes!
How like an A[n]gel now she looks!
_1 Wom._ At first jump
Jump into the Dukes arms? we must look to you,
Indeed we must, the next jump we are journeymen.
_Pet._ I see the ruine of our hopes already,
Would she were at home again, milking her Fathers Cows.
_1 Wom._ I fear she'l milk all the great Courtiers first.
_Olym._ This has not made ye proud?
_Al._ No certain, Madam.
_Olym._ It was the Duke that kist ye.
_Al._ 'Twas your Brother,
And therefore nothing can be meant but honour.
_Ol._ But say he love ye?
_Al._ That he may with safety:
A Princes love extends to all his subjects.
_Ol._ But say in more particular?
_Al._ Pray fear not:
For vertues sake deliver me from doubts, Lady:
'Tis not the name of King, nor all his promises,
His glories, and his greatness stuck about me,
Can make me prove a Traitor to your service:
You are my Mistris, and my noble Master,
Your vertues my ambition, and your favour
The end of all my love, and all my fortune:
And when I fail in that faith--
_Ol._ I believe thee,
Come wipe your eyes; I do: take you example--
_Pets._ I would her eyes were out.
_1 Wom._ If the wind stand in this door,
We shall have but cold custome: some trick or other,
And speedily.
_Pet._ Let me alone to think on't.
_Ol._ Come, be you near me still.
_Al._ With all my duty. [_Exeunt._
SCENA III.
_Enter_ Archas, Theodor, Putskie, _Ancient, and Souldiers,
carrying his armour piece-meale, his Colours wound up,
and his Drums in Cases_.
_Theod._ This is the heaviest march we e're trod Captain.
_Puts._ This was not wont to be: these honour'd pieces
The fierie god of war himself would smile at,
Buckl'd upon that body, were not wont thus,
Like Reliques to be offer'd to long rust,
And heavy-ey'd oblivion brood upon 'em.
_Arch._ There set 'em down: and glorious war farewel;
Thou child of honour and ambitious thoughts,
Begot in bloud, and nurs'd with Kingdomes ruines;
Thou golden danger, courted by thy followers
Through fires and famins, for one title from thee--
Prodigal man-kind spending all his fortunes;
A long farewel I give thee: Noble Arms,
You ribs for mighty minds, you Iron houses,
Made to defie the thunder-claps of Fortune,
Rust and consuming time must now dwell with ye:
And thou good Sword that knewst the way to conquest,
Upon whose fatal edge despair and death dwelt,
That when I shook thee thus, fore-shew'd destruction,
Sleep now from bloud, and grace my Monument:
Farewel my Eagle; when thou flew'st, whole Armies
Have stoopt below thee: At Passage I have seen thee,
Ruffle the _Tartars_, as they fled thy furie;
And bang 'em up together, as a Tassel,
Upon the streach, a flock of fearfull Pigeons.
I yet remember when the _Volga_ curl'd,
The aged _Volga_, when he heav'd his head up,
And rais'd his waters high, to see the ruins;
The ruines our Swords made, the bloudy ruins,
Then flew this Bird of honour bravely, Gentlemen;
But these must be forgotten: so must these too,
And all that tend to Arms, by me for ever.
Take 'em you holy men; my Vow take with 'em,
Never to wear 'em more: Trophies I give 'em,
And sacred Rites of war to adorn the Temple:
There let 'em hang, to tell the world their master
Is now Devotions Souldier, fit for prayer.
Why do ye hang your heads? why look you sad friends?
I am not dying yet.
_Theod._ Ye are indeed to us Sir.
_Puts._ Dead to our fortunes, General.
_Arch._ You'l find a better,
A greater, and a stronger man to lead ye,
And to a stronger fortune: I am old, friends,
Time, and the wars together make me stoop, Gentle[men],
Stoop to my grave: my mind unfurnish'd too,
Emptie and weak as I am: my poor body,
Able for nothing now but contemplation,
And that will be a task too to a Souldier:
Yet had they but encourag'd me, or thought well
Of what I have done, I think I should have ventur'd
For one knock more, I should have made a shift yet
To have broke one staff more handsomly, and have died
Like a good fellow, and an honest Souldier,
In the head of ye all, with my Sword in my hand,
And so have made an end of all with credit.
_Theod._ Well, there will come an hour, when all these injuries,
These secure slights--
_Ar._ Ha! no more of that sirrah,
Not one word more of that I charge ye.
_Theod._ I must speak Sir.
And may that tongue forget to sound your service,
That's dumb to your abuses.
_Ar._ Understand fool,
That voluntary I sit down.
_Theod._ You are forced, Sir,
Forced for your safety: I too well remember
The time and cause, and I may live to curse 'em:
You made this Vow, and whose unnobleness,
Indeed forgetfulness of good--
_Ar._ No more,
As thou art mine no more.
_The._ Whose doubts and envies--
But the Devil will have his due.
_Puts._ Good gentle Colonel.
_The._ And though disgraces, and contempt of Honour
Reign now, the Wheel must turn again.
_Ar._ Peace Sirrah,
Your tongue's too saucy: do you stare upon me?
Down with that heart, down suddenly, down with it,
Down with that disobedience; tye that tongue up.
_Theod._ Tongue?
_Ar._ Do not provoke me to forget my Vow, Sirrah.
And draw that fatal Sword again in anger.
_Puts._ For Heavens sake, Colonel.
_Ar._ Do not let me doubt
Whose Son thou art, because thou canst not suffer:
Do not play with mine anger; if thou dost,
By all the Loyalty my heart holds--
_Theod._ I have done, Sir,
Pray pardon me.
_Ar._ I pray be worthy of it:
Beshrew your heart, you have vext me.
_The._ I am sorry, Sir.
_Ar._ Go to, no more of this: be true and honest,
I know ye are man enough, mould it to just ends,
And let not my disgraces, then I am miserable,
When I have nothing left me but thy angers.
_Flourish. Enter Duke_, Burris, Boroskie, _Attend. and Gent_.
_Puts._ And't please ye, Sir, the Duke.
_Duk._ Now, what's all this?
The meaning of this ceremonious Emblem?
_Ar._ Your Grace should first remember--
_Boros._ There's his Nature.
_Duk._ I do, and shall remember still that injury,
That at the Muster, where it pleas'd your Greatness
To laugh at my poor Souldiership, to scorn it;
And more to make me seem ridiculous,
Took from my hands my charge.
_Bur._ O think not so, Sir.
_Duk._ And in my Fathers sight.
_Ar._ Heaven be my witness,
I did no more, (and that with modesty,
With Love and Faith to you) than was my warrant,
And from your Father seal'd: nor durst that rudeness,
And impudence of scorn fall from my 'haviour,
I ever yet knew duty.
_Du._ We shall teach ye,
I well remember too, upon some words I told ye,
Then at that time, some angry words ye answer'd,
If ever I were Duke, you were no Souldier.
You have kept your word, and so it shall be to you,
From henceforth I dismiss you; take your ease, Sir.
_Ar._ I humbly thank your Grace; this wasted Body,
Beaten and bruis'd with Arms, dry'd up with troubles,
Is good for nothing else but quiet, now Sir,
And holy Prayers; in which, when I forget
To thank Heaven for all your bounteous favours,
May that be deaf, and my Petitions perish.
_Boros._ What a smooth humble Cloak he has cas'd his pride in!
And how he has pull'd his Claws in! there's no trusting--
_Bur._ Speak for the best.
_Bor._ Believe I shall do ever.
_Du._ To make ye understand, we feel not yet
Such dearth of Valour, and Experience,
Such a declining Age of doing Spirits,
That all should be confin'd within your excellence,
And you, or none be honour'd, take _Boroskie_,
The place he has commanded, lead the Souldier;
A little time will bring thee to his honour,
Which has been nothing but the Worlds opinion,
The Souldiers fondness, and a little fortune,
Which I believe his Sword had the least share in.
_Theod._ O that I durst but answer now.
_Puts._ Good Colonel.
_Theod._ My heart will break else: Royal Sir, I know not
What you esteem mens lives, whose hourly labours,
And loss of Blood, consumptions in your service,
Whose Bodies are acquainted with more miseries,
And all to keep you safe, than Dogs or Slaves are.
His Sword the least share gain'd?
_Du._ You will not fight with me?
_Theod._ No Sir, I dare not,
You are my Prince, but I dare speak to ye,
And dare speak truth, which none of their ambitions
That be informers to you, dare once think of;
Yet truth will now but anger ye; I am sorry for't,
And so I take my leave. [_Exit._
_Du._ Ev'n when you please, Sir.
_Ar._ Sirrah, see me no more.
_Du._ And so may you too:
You have a house i'th' Country, keep you there, Sir,
And when you have rul'd your self, teach your Son manners,
For this time I forgive him.
_Ar._ Heaven forgive all;
And to your Grace a happy and long Rule here.
And you Lord General, may your fights be prosperous.
In all your Course may Fame and Fortune court you.
Fight for your Country, and your Princes safety;
Boldly, and bravely face your Enemy,
And when you strike, strike with that killing Vertue,
As if a general Plague had seiz'd before ye;
Danger, and doubt, and labour cast behind ye;
And then come home an old and noble Story.
_Bur._ A little comfort, Sir.
_Du._ As little as may be:
Farewel, you know your limit. [_Ex. Duke_, &c.
_Bur._ Alas, brave Gentleman.
_Ar._ I do, and will observe it suddenly,
My Grave; I, that's my limit; 'tis no new thing,
Nor that can make me start, or tremble at it,
To buckle with that old grim Souldier now:
I have seen him in his sowrest shapes, and dreadfull'st;
I, and I thank my honesty, have stood him:
That audit's cast; farewel my honest Souldiers,
Give me your hands; farewel, farewel good _Ancient_,
A stout man, and a true, thou art come in sorrow.
Blessings upon your Swords, may they ne'r fail ye;
You do but change a man; your fortune's constant;
That by your ancient Valours is ty'd fast still;
Be valiant still, and good: and when ye fight next,
When flame and fury make but one face of horrour,
When the great rest of all your honour's up,
When you would think a Spell to shake the enemy,
Remember me, my Prayers shall be with ye:
So once again farewel.
_Puts._ Let's wait upon ye.
_Ar._ No, no, it must not be; I have now left me
A single Fortune to my self, no more,
Which needs no train, nor complement; good Captain,
You are an honest and a sober Gentleman,
And one I think has lov'd me.
_Puts_. I am sure on't.
_Ar_. Look to my Boy, he's grown too headstrong for me.
And if they think him fit to carry Arms still,
His life is theirs; I have a house i'th' Country,
And when your better hours will give you liberty,
See me: you shall be welcome. Fortune to ye. [_Exit._
_Anc._ I'll cry no more, that will do him no good,
And 'twill but make me dry, and I have no money:
I'll fight no more, and that will do them harm;
And if I can do that, I care not for money:
I could have curst reasonable well, and I have had the luck too
To have 'em hit sometimes. Whosoever thou art,
That like a Devil didst possess the Duke
With these malicious thoughts; mark what I say to thee,
A Plague upon thee, that's but the Preamble.
_Sold._ O take the Pox too.
_Anc._ They'll cure one another;
I must have none but kills, and those kill stinking:
Or look ye, let the single Pox possess them,
Or Pox upon Pox.
_Puts._ That's but ill i'th' arms, Sir.
_Anc._ 'Tis worse i'th' Legs, I would not wish it else:
And may those grow to scabs as big as Mole-hills,
And twice a day, the Devil with a Curry-Comb
Scratch 'em, and scrub 'em: I warrant him he has 'em.
_Sold._ May he be ever lowzie.
_Anc._ That's a pleasure,
The Beggar's Lechery; sometimes the Souldiers:
May he be ever lazie, stink where he stands,
And Maggots breed in's Brains.
_2 Sold._ I, marry Sir,
May he fall mad in love with his Grand-mother,
And kissing her, may her teeth drop into his mouth,
And one fall cross his throat, then let him gargle.
_Enter a Post._
_Puts._ Now, what's the matter?
_Post._ Where's the Duke, pray, Gentlemen?
_Puts._ Keep on your way, you cannot miss.
_Post._ I thank ye. [_Exit._
_Anc._ If he be married, may he dream he's cuckol'd,
And when he wakes believe, and swear he saw it,
Sue a Divorce, and after find her honest:
Then in a pleasant Pigstye, with his own garters,
And a fine running knot, ride to the Devil.
_Puts._ If these would do--
_Anc._ I'll never trust my mind more,
If all these fail.
_1 Sold._ What shall we do now, Captain?
For by this honest hand I'll be torn in pieces,
Unless my old General go, or some that love him,
And love us equal too, before I fight more:
I can make a Shooe yet, and draw it on too,
If I like the Leg well.
_Anc._ Fight? 'tis likely:
No, there will be the sport Boys, when there's need on's.
They think the other Crown will do, will carry us,
And the brave golden Coat of Captain _Cankro
Boroskie_. What a noise his very name carries!
'Tis Gun enough to fright a Nation,
He needs no Souldiers; if he do, for my part,
I promise ye he's like to seek 'em; so I think you think too,
And all the Army; No, honest, brave old _Archas_,
We cannot so soon leave thy memory,
So soon forget thy goodness: he that does,
The scandal and the scumm of Arms be counted.
_Puts._ You much rejoice me now you have hit my meaning,
I durst not press ye, till I found your spirits:
Continue thus.
_Anc._ I'll go and tell the Duke on't.
_Enter 2 Post._
_Puts._ No, no, he'll find it soon enough, and fear it,
When once occasion comes: Another Packet!
From whence, Friend, come you?
_2 Post._ From the Borders, Sir.
_Puts._ What news, Sir, I beseech you?
_2 Post._ Fire and Sword, Gentlemen;
The _Tartar_'s up, and with a mighty force,
Comes forward, like a tempest, all before him
Burning and killing.
_Anc._ Brave Boys, brave news, Boys.
_2 Post._ Either we must have present help--
_Anc._ Still braver.
_2 Post._ Where lies the Duke?
_Sold._ He's there.
_2 Post._ 'Save ye, Gentlemen. [_Exit._
_Anc._ We are safe enough, I warrant thee:
Now the time's come.
_Puts._ I, now 'tis come indeed, and now stand firm, Boys,
And let 'em burn on merrily.
_Anc._ This City would make a fine marvellous Bone-fire:
'Tis old dry timber, and such Wood has no fellow.
_2 Sold._ Here will be trim piping anon and whining,
Like so many Pigs in a storm,
When they hear the news once.
_Enter_ Boroskie, _and Servant_.
_Puts._ Here's one has heard it already;
Room for the General.
_Boros._ Say I am faln exceeding sick o'th' sudden,
And am not like to live.
_Puts._ If ye go on, Sir,
For they will kill ye certainly; they look for ye.
_Anc._ I see your Lordship's bound, take a suppository,
'Tis I, Sir; a poor cast Flag of yours. The foolish _Tartars_
They burn and kill, and't like your honour, kill us,
Kill with Guns, with Guns my Lord, with Guns, Sir.
What says your Lordship to a chick in sorrel sops?
_Puts._ Go, go thy ways old true-penny;
Thou hast but one fault: thou art ev'n too valiant.
Come, to'th' Army Gentlemen, and let's make them acquainted.
_Sold._ Away, we are for ye. [_Exeunt._
SCENE IV.
_Enter_ Alinda, _and two Gentlewomen_.
_Alin._ Why, whither run ye Fools; will ye leave my Lady?
_Petes._ The _Tartar_ comes, the _Tartar_ comes.
_Alin._ Why, let him,
I thought you had fear'd no men: upon my conscience
You have try'd their strengths already; stay for shame.
_Pet._ Shift for thy self, _Alinda_. [_Exit._
_Alin._ Beauty bless ye:
Into what Grooms Feather-Bed will you creep now?
And there mistake the enemy; sweet youths ye are,
And of a constant courage; are you afraid of foining?
_Enter_ Olympia.
_Olym._ O my good Wench, what shall become of us?
The Posts come hourly in, and bring new danger;
The enemy is past the _Volga_, and bears hither
With all the blood and cruelty he carries,
My Brother now will find his fault.
_Alin._ I doubt me,
Somewhat too late, Madam. But pray fear not,
All will be well, I hope. Sweet Madam, shake not.
_Olym._ How cam'st thou by this Spirit? our Sex trembles.
_Alin._ I am not unacquainted with these dangers;
And you shall know my truth; for ere you perish,
A hundred Swords shall pass through me: 'tis but dying,
And Madam we must do it: the manner's all:
You have a Princely Birth, take Princely thoughts to you,
And take my counsel too; go presently,
With all the haste ye have, (I will attend ye)
With all the possible speed, to old Lord _Archas_,
He honours ye; with all your art perswade him,
('Twill be a dismal time else) woo him hither,
But hither Madam, make him see the danger;
For your new General looks like an Ass;
There's nothing in his face but loss.
_Olym._ I'll do it.
And thank thee, sweet _Alinda_: O my Jewel,
How much I'm bound to love thee! by this hand, Wench,
If thou wert a man--
_Alin._ I would I were to fight for you.
But haste dear Madam.
_Olym._ I need no Spurs _Alinda_.
SCENE V.
_Enter Duke, 2 Posts, Attendants, Gentlemen._
_Du._ The Lord General sick now? is this a time
For men to creep into their Beds? What's become, Post,
Of my Lieutenant?
_Post._ Beaten, and't please your Grace,
And all his Forces sparkled.
_Enter a Gentleman._
_Du._ That's but cold news:
How now, what good news? are the Souldiers ready?
_Ge._ Yes Sir, but fight they will not, nor stir from that place
They stand in now, unless they have Lord _Archas_
To lead 'em out; they rail upon this General,
And sing Songs of him, scurvy Songs, to worse tunes:
And much they spare not you, Sir: here they swear
They'll stand and see the City burnt, and dance about it,
Unless Lord _Archas_ come before they fight for't:
It must be so, Sir.
_Du._ I could wish it so too;
And to that end I have sent Lord _Burris_ to him;
But all I fear will fail; we must dye, Gentlemen,
And one stroke we'll have for't.
_Enter_ Burris.
What bring'st thou, _Burris_?
_Bur._ That I am loth to tell; he will not come, Sir;
I found him at his Prayers, there he tells me,
The Enemy shall take him, fit for Heaven:
I urg'd to him all our dangers, his own worths,
The Countries ruine; nay I kneel'd and pray'd him;
He shook his head, let fall a tear, and pointed
Thus with his finger to the Ground; a Grave
I think he meant; and this was all he answer'd.
Your Grace was much to blame:
Where's the new General?
_Du._ He is sick, poor man.
_Bur._ He's a poor man indeed, Sir:
Your Grace must needs go to the Souldier.
_Du._ They have sent me word
They will not stir, they rail at me,
And all the spight they have-- [_Shout within._
What shout is that there?
Is the Enemy come so near?
_Enter_ Archas, Olympia, _and_ Alinda.
_Olym._ I have brought him, Sir,
At length I have woo'd him thus far.
_Du._ Happy Sister,
O blessed Woman!
_Olym._ Use him nobly, Brother;
You never had more need: And Gentlemen,
All the best powers ye have, to tongues turn presently,
To winning and perswading tongues: all my art,
Only to bring him hither, I have utter'd;
Let it be yours to arm him; And good my Lord,
Though I exceed the limit you allow'd me,
Which was the happiness to bring ye hither,
And not to urge ye farther; yet, see your Country,
Out of your own sweet Spirit now behold it:
Turn round, and look upon the miseries,
On every side the fears; O see the dangers;
We find 'em soonest, therefore hear me first, Sir.
_Du._ Next hear your Prince:
You have said you lov'd him, _Archas_,
And thought your life too little for his service;
Think not your vow too great now, now the time is,
And now you are brought to th' test, touch right now Souldier,
Now shew the manly pureness of thy mettle;
Now if thou beest that valued man, that vertue,
That great obedience teaching all, now stand it.
What I have said forget, my youth was hasty,
And what you said your self forgive, you were angry.
If men could live without their faults, they were gods, _Archas_.
He weeps, and holds his hands up: to him, _Burris_.
_Bur._ You have shew'd the Prince his faults;
And like a good Surgeon you have laid
That to 'em makes 'em smart; he feels it,
Let 'em not fester now, Sir; your own honour,
The bounty of that mind, and your allegiance,
'Gainst which I take it, Heaven gives no Command, Sir,
Nor seals no Vow, can better teach ye now
What ye have to do, than I, or this necessity;
Only this little's left; would ye do nobly,
And in the Eye of Honour truly triumph?
Conquer that mind first, and then men are nothing.
_Alin._ Last, a poor Virgin kneels; for loves sake General,
If ever you have lov'd; for her sake, Sir,
For your own honesty, which is a Virgin,
Look up, and pity us, be bold and fortunate,
You are a Knight, a good and noble Souldier,
And when your Spurs were given ye, your Sword buckl'd,
Then were you sworn for Vertues Cause, for Beauties,
For Chastity to strike; strike now, they suffer;
Now draw your Sword, or else you are recreant,
Only a Knight i'th' Heels, i'th' Heart a Coward;
Your first Vow honour made, your last but anger.
_Ar._ How like my vertuous Wife this thing looks, speaks too?
So would she chide my dulness: fair one, I thank ye.
My gracious Sir, your pardon, next your hand:
Madam, your favour, and your prayers: Gentlemen,
Your wishes, and your loves: and pretty sweet one,
A favour for your Souldier.
_Olymp._ Give him this, Wench.
_Alin._ Thus do I tye on Victory.
_Arc._ My Armour,
My Horse, my Sword, my tough Staff, and my Fortune,
And _Olin_ now I come to shake thy glory.
_Du._ Go, brave and prosperous, our loves go with thee.
_Olymp._ Full of thy vertue, and our Prayers attend thee.
_Bur. &c._ Loaden with Victory, and we to honour thee.
_Alin._ Come home the Son of Honour,
And I'll serve ye. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._
_Enter Duke_, Burris, _and two Gentlemen_.
_Duke._ No news of _Archas_ yet?
_Bur._ But now, and't please ye,
A Post came in, Letters he brought none with him,
But this deliver'd: He saw the Armies join,
The game of Blood begun, and by our General,
Who never was acquainted but with Conquest,
So bravely fought, he saw the _Tartars_ shaken,
And there he said he left 'em.
_Du._ Where's _Boroskie_?
_1 Gent._ He's up again, and't please ye.
_Bur._ Sir, methinks
This News should make ye lightsome, bring joy to ye,
It strikes our hearts with general Comfort. [_Exit Duke._
Gone? What should this mean, so suddenly?
He's well?
_2 Gent._ We see no other.
_1 Gent._ Would the rest were well too,
That put these starts into him.
_Bur._ I'll go after him.
_2 Gent._ 'Twill not be fit, Sir: h'as some secret in him
He would not be disturb'd in: know you any thing
Has crost him since the General went?
_Bur._ Not any:
If there had been, I am sure I should have found it:
Only I have heard him oft complain for money:
Money he says he wants.
_1 Gent._ It may be that then.
_Bur._ To him that has so ma[n]y wayes to raise it,
And those so honest, it cannot be.
_Enter Duke and_ Boroskie.
_1 Gent._ He comes back,
And Lord _Boroskie_ with him.
_Bur._ There the game goes,
I fear some new thing hatching.
_Duke._ Come hither _Burris_.
Go see my Sister, and commend me to her,
And to my little Mistriss give this Token;
Tell her I'le see her shortly.
_Bur._ Yes, I shall, Sir. [_Ex._ Bur. _and Gent_.
_Duke._ Wait you without: I would yet try him further.
_Bor._ 'Twill not be much amiss: has your Grace heard yet
Of what he has done i'th' Field?
_Duke._ A Post but now
Came in, who saw 'em joyn, and has delivered,
The Enemy gave ground before he parted.
_Bor._ 'Tis well.
_Duke._ Come, speak thy mind man: 'tis not for fighting,
A noise of War, I keep thee in my bosom;
Thy ends are nearer to me; from my Childhood
Thou brought'st me up: and like another nature,
Made good all my necessities: speak boldly.
_Bor._ Sir, what I utter, will be thought but envy
Though I intend, high heaven knows, but your honour,
When vain and empty people shall proclaim me--
Good Sir excuse me.
_Duke._ Do you fear me for your Enemy?
Speak on your duty.
_Bor._ Then I must, and dare, Sir:
When he comes home, take heed the Court receive him not,
Take heed he meet not with their loves and praises,
That Glass will shew him ten times greater, Sir,
(And make him strive to make good that proportion,)
Than ere his fortune bred him, he is honourable,
At least I strive to understand him so,
And of a nature, if not this way poyson'd,
Perfect enough, easie, and sweet, but those are soon seduc'd, Sir;
He's a great man, and what that Pill may work,
Prepar'd by general voices of the people,
Is the end of all my Counsel, only this, Sir,
Let him retire a while, there's more hangs by it
Than you know yet: there if he stand a while well,
But till the Souldier cool, whom, for their service
You must pay now most liberally, most freely,
And showre your self into 'em; 'tis the bounty
They follow with their loves, and not the bravery.
_Enter two Gent._
_Duke._ But where's the Money? how now?
_2 Gent._ Sir, the Colonel,
Son to the Lord _Archas_, with most happy news
Of the _Tartars_ overthrow, without here
Attends your Graces pleasure.
_Bor._ Be not seen, Sir,
He's a bold fellow, let me stand his Thunders,
To th' Court he must not come: no blessing here, Sir,
No face of favour, if you love your honour.
_Enter_ Theodore.
_Duke._ Do what you think is meetest; I'le retire, Sir. [_Ex._
_Bor._ Conduct him in, Sir--welcome noble Colonel.
_The._ That's much from your Lordship: pray where's the Duke?
_Bor._ We hear you have beat the _Tartar_.
_The._ Is he busie, Sir?
_Bor._ Have ye taken _Olin_ yet?
_The._ I would fain speak with him.
_Bor._ How many men have ye lost?
_The._ Do's he lye this way?
_Bor._ I am sure you fought it bravely.
_The._ I must see him.
_Bor._ You cannot yet, ye must not, what's your Commission?
_The._ No Gentleman o'th' Chamber here?
_Bor._ Why, pray ye, Sir?
Am not I fit to entertain your business?
_The._ I think you are not, Sir; I am sure ye shall not.
I bring no tales, nor flatteries: in my tongue, Sir,
I carry no fork'd stings.
_Bor._ You keep your bluntness.
_The._ You are deceiv'd: it keeps me: I had felt else
Some of your plagues ere this: but good Sir trifle not,
I have business to the Duke.
_Bor._ He's not well, Sir,
And cannot now be spoke withal.
_The._ Not well, Sir?
How would he ha' been, if we had lost? not well, Sir?
I bring him news to make him well: his enemy
That would have burnt his City here, and your House too,
Your brave gilt house, my Lord, your honours hangings,
Where all your Ancestors, and all their Battels,
Their silk and golden Battels are decipher'd:
That would not only have abus'd your buildings,
Your goodly buildings, Sir, and have drunk dry your butteries,
Purloin'd your Lordships Plate, the Duke bestow'd on you,
For turning handsomly o'th' toe, and trim'd your Virgins,
Trim'd 'em of a new cut, and't like your Lordship,
'Tis ten to one, your Wife too, and the curse is
You had had no remedy against these Rascals,
No Law, and't like your Honour; would have kill'd you too
And roasted ye, and eaten ye, ere this time:
Notable Knaves my Lord, unruly Rascals:
These youths have we ty'd up, put muzzels on 'em,
And par'd their Nails, that honest civil Gentlemen,
And such most noble persons as your self is,
May live in peace, and rule the land with a twine thread.
These news I bring.
_Bor._ And were they thus deliver'd ye?
_The._ My Lord, I am no pen-man, nor no Orator,
My tongue was never Oyl'd with Here and't like ye,
There I beseech ye, weigh, I am a Souldier,
And truth I covet only, no fine terms, Sir;
I come not to stand treating here; my business
Is with the Duke, and of such general blessing--
_Bor._ You have overthrown the enemy, we know it,
And we rejoyce in't; ye have done like honest Subjects,
You have done handsomely and well.
_Theo._ But well, Sir?
But handsomely and well? what are we juglers?
I'le do all that in cutting up a Capon.
But handsomely and well? does your Lordship take us
For the Dukes Tumblers? we have done bravely, Sir,
Ventur'd our lives like men.
_Bor._ Then bravely be it.
_Theo._ And for as brave rewards we look, and graces,
We have sweat and bled for't, Sir.
_Bor._ And ye may have it,
If you will stay the giving. Men that thank themselves first
For any good they do, take off the lustre,
And blot the benefit.
_Theo._ Are these the welcomes,
The Bells that ring out our rewards? pray heartily,
Early and late, there may be no more Enemies:
Do my good Lord, pray seriously, and sigh too,
For if there be--
_Bor._ They must be met, and fought with.
_Theo._ By whom? by you? they must be met and flatter'd.
Why, what a Devil ail'd ye to do these things?
With what assurance dare ye mock men thus?
You have but single lives, and those I take it
A Sword may find too: why do ye dam the Duke up?
And choak that course of love, that like a River
Should fill our empty veins again with comforts?
But if ye use these knick knacks,
This fast and loose, with faithful men and honest,
You'l be the first will find it.
_Enter_ Archas, _Souldiers_, Putskey, _Ancient, and others_.
_Boros._ You are too untemperate.
_Theo._ Better be so, and thief too, than unthankful:
Pray use this old man so, and then we are paid all.
The Duke thanks ye for your service, and the Court thanks ye,
And wonderful desirous they are to see ye;
Pray Heaven we have room enough to march for May-games,
Pageants, and Bone-fires for your welcome home, Sir.
Here your most noble friend the Lord _Boroskie_,
A Gentleman too tender of your credit,
And ever in the Dukes ear, for your good, Sir,
Crazie and sickly, yet to be your servant,
Has leapt into the open air to meet ye.
_Bor._ The best is, your words wound not, you are welcome home, Sir;
Heartily welcome home, and for your service,
The noble overthrow you gave the Enemy,
The Duke salutes ye too with all his thanks, Sir.
_Anc._ Sure they will now regard us.
_Puts._ There's a reason:
But by the changing of the Colonels countenance,
The rolling of his eyes like angry Billows;
I fear the wind's not down yet, _Ancient_.
_Anc._ Is the Duke well, Sir?
_Boros._ Not much unhealthy,
Only a little grudging of an Ague,
Which cannot last: he has heard, which makes him fearful,
And loth as yet to give your worth due welcome,
The sickness hath been somewhat hot i'th' Army,
Which happily may prove more doubt than danger,
And more his fear than fate; yet howsoever,
An honest care--
_Arch._ Ye say right, and it shall be;
For though upon my life 'tis but a rumor,
A meer opinion, without faith or fear in't;
For Sir, I thank Heaven, we never stood more healthy,
Never more high and lusty; yet to satisfie,
We cannot be too curious, or too careful
Of what concerns his state, we'll draw away, Sir,
And lodge at further distance, and less danger.
_Boros._ It will be well.
_Anc._ It will be very scurvy:
I smell it out, it stinks abominably,
Stir it no more.
_Boros._ The Duke, Sir, would have you too,
For a short day or two, retire to your own house,
Whither himself will come to visit ye,
And give ye thanks.
_Arch._ I shall attend his pleasure.
_Anc._ A trick, a lousie trick: so ho, a trick Boys.
_Arch._ How now, what's that?
_Anc._ I thought I had found a Hare, Sir,
But 'tis a Fox, an old Fox, shall we hunt him?
_Arch._ No more such words.
_Boros._ The Souldier's grown too sawcy,
You must tie him straiter up.
_Arch._ I do my best, Sir;
But men of free-born minds sometimes will flie out.
_Anc._ May not we see the Duke?
_Boros._ Not at this time, Gentlemen,
Your General knows the cause.
_Anc._ We have no Plague, Sir,
Unless it be in our pay, nor no Pox neither;
Or if we had, I hope that good old Courtier
Will not deny us place there.
_Puts._ Certain my Lord,
Considering what we are, and what we have done;
If not, what need ye may have, 'twould be better,
A great deal nobler, and taste honester
To use us with more sweetness; men that dig
And lash away their lives at the Carts tail,
Double our comforts; meat, and their Masters thanks too,
When they work well, they have; Men of our quality,
When they do well, and venture for't with valour,
Fight hard, lye hard, feed hard, when they come home, Sir,
And know these are deserving things, things worthy,
Can you then blame 'em if their minds a little
Be stir'd with glory? 'tis a pride becomes 'em,
A little season'd with ambition,
To be respected, reckon'd well, and honour'd
For what they have done: when to come home thus poorly,
And met with such unjointed joy, so looked on,
As if we had done no more but drest a Horse well;
So entertain'd, as if, I thank ye Gentlemen,
Take that to drink, had pow'r to please a Souldier?
Where be the shouts, the Bells rung out, the people?
The Prince himself?
_Arch._ Peace: I perceive your eye, Sir,
Is fixt upon this Captain for his freedom,
And happily you find his tongue too forward;
As I am Master of the place I carry,
'Tis fit I think so too; but were I this man,
No stronger tie upon me, than the truth
And tongue to tell it, I should speak as he do's,
And think with modesty enough, such Saints
That daily thrust their loves and lives through hazards,
And fearless for their Countries peace, march hourly
Through all the doors of death, and know the darkest,
Should better be canoniz'd for their service:
What labour would these men neglect, what danger
Where honour is, though seated in a Billow,
Rising as high as Heaven, would not these Souldiers,
Like to so many Sea-gods charge up to it?
Do you see these swords? times Sythe was ne'er so sharp, Sir;
Nor ever at one harvest mow'd such handfuls:
Thoughts ne'er so sudden, nor belief so sure
When they are drawn, and were it not sometimes
I swim upon their angers to allay 'em,
And like a calm depress their fell intentions;
They are so deadly sure, nature would suffer--
And whose are all these glories? why, their Princes,
Their Countries, and their Friends? Alas, of all these,
And all the happy ends they bring, the blessings,
They only share the labours: A little joy then,
And outside of a welcome, at an upshot
Would not have done amiss, Sir; but howsoever
Between me and my duty, no crack, Sir,
Shall dare appear: I hope by my example
No discontent in them: without doubt Gentlemen,
The Duke will both look suddenly and truly
On your deserts: Methinks 'twere good they were paid, Sir.
_Bor._ They shall be immediately; I stay for money;
And any favour else--
_Arch._ We are all bound to ye;
And so I take my leave, Sir; when the Duke pleases
To make me worthy of his eyes--
_Bor._ Which will be suddenly,
I know his good thoughts to ye.
_Arch._ With all duty,
And all humility, I shall attend, Sir.
_Bor._ Once more you are welcome home: these shall be satisfied.
_The._ Be sure we be: and handsomly.
_Arch._ Wait you on me, Sir.
_The._ And honestly: no jugling.
_Arch._ Will ye come, Sir? [_Exit._
_Bor._ Pray do not doubt.
_The._ We are no Boys. [_Exit._
_Enter a Gent. and 2 or 3 with Mony._
_Bor._ Well Sir.
_Gent._ Here's mony from the Duke, and't please your Lordship.
_Bor._ 'Tis well.
_Gent._ How sowre the Souldiers look?
_Bor._ Is't told?
_Gent._ Yes, and for every company a double pay,
And the Dukes love to all.
_Anc._ That's worth a Ducket.
_Bor._ You that be Officers, see it discharg'd then,
Why do not you take it up?
_Anc._ 'Tis too heavy:
'Body o'me, I have strain'd mine arm.
_Bor._ Do ye scorn it?
_Anc._ Has your Lor[d]ship any dice about ye? sit round Gentlemen,
And come on seven for my share.
_Put._ Do you think Sir,
This is the end we fight? can this durt draw us
To such a stupid tameness, that our service
Neglected, and look'd lamely on, and skew'd at
With a few honourable words, and this, is righted?
Have not we eyes and ears, to hear and see Sir,
And minds to understand the slights we carry?
I come home old, and full of hurts, men look on me
As if I had got 'em from a whore, and shun me;
I tell my griefs, and fear my wants, I am answer'd,
Alas 'tis pity! pray dine with me on Sunday:
These are the sores we are sick of, the minds maladies,
And can this cure 'em? you should have us'd us nobly,
And for our doing well, as well proclaim'd us
To the worlds eye, have shew'd and sainted us,
Then ye had paid us bravely: then we had shin'd Sir,
Not in this gilded stuff but in our glory:
You may take back your mony.
_Gent._ This I fear'd still.
_Bor._ Consider better Gentlemen.
_Anc._ Thank your Lordship:
And now I'le put on my considering cap:
My Lord, that I am no Courtier, you may guess it
By having no sute to you for this mony:
For though I want, I want not this, nor shall not,
Whilst you want that civility to rank it
With those rights we expected; mony grows Sir,
And men must gather it, all is not put in one purse.
And that I am no Carter, I could never whistle yet:
But that I am a Souldier, and a Gentleman,
And a fine Gentleman, and't like your honour,
And a most pleasant companion: all you that are witty,
Come list to my ditty: come set in boyes,
With your Lordships patience. [_Song._
How do you like my Song, my Lord?
_Bor._ Even as I like your self, but 'twould be a great deal better,
You would prove a great deal wiser, and take this mony,
In your own phrase I speak now Sir, and 'tis very well
You have learn'd to sing; for since you prove so liberal,
To refuse such means as this, maintain your voice still,
'Twill prove your best friend.
_Anc._ 'Tis a singing age Sir,
A merry moon here now: I'le follow it:
Fidling, and fooling now, gains more than fighting.
_Bor._ What is't you blench at? what would you ask? speak freely.
_Sol._ And so we dare: a triumph for the General,
_Put._ And then an honour special to his vertue.
_Anc._ That we may be prefer'd that have serv'd for it,
And cram'd up into favour like the worshipful,
At least upon the Cities charge made drunk
For one whole year; we have done 'em ten years service;
That we may enjoy our lechery without grudging,
And mine, or thine be nothing, all things equal,
And catch as catch may, be proclaim'd: that when we borrow,
And have no will to pay again, no Law
Lay hold upon us, nor no Court controule us.
_Bor._ Some of these may come to pass; the Duke may do 'em,
And no doubt will: the General will find too,
And so will you, if you but stay with patience: I have no power.
_Put._ Nor will: come fellow Souldiers.
_Bor._ Pray be not so distrustfull.
_Put._ There are waies yet,
And honest waies; we are not brought up Statues.
_Anc._ If your Lordship
Have any silk stockings, that have holes i'th' heels,
Or ever an honourable Cassock that wants buttons,
I could have cur'd such maladies: your Lordships custome
And my good Ladies, if the bones want setting
In her old bodies--
_Bor._ This is disobedience.
_Anc._ Eight pence a day, and hard Eggs.
_Put._ Troop off Gentlemen,
Some Coin we have, whilst this lasts, or our credits,
We'l never sell our Generals worth for six-pence.
Ye are beholding to us.
_Anc._ Fare ye well Sir,
And buy a pipe with that: do ye see this skarf Sir?
By this hand I'le cry Brooms in't, birchen Brooms Sir,
Before I eat one bit from your benevolence.
Now to our old occupations again.
By your leave Lord. [_Exeunt._
_Bor._ You will bite when ye are sharper; take up the mony.
This love I must remove, this fondness to him,
This tenderness of heart; I have lost my way else.
There is no sending man, they will not take it,
They are yet too full of pillage,
They'l dance for't ere't be long:
Come, bring it after.
_Enter_ Duke.
_Duke._ How now, refus'd their mony?
_Bor._ Very bravely,
And stand upon such terms 'tis terrible.
_Duke._ Where's _Archas_?
_Bor._ He's retir'd Sir, to his house,
According to your pleasure, full of dutie
To outward shew: but what within--
_Duke._ Refuse it?
_Bor._ Most confidently: 'tis not your revenues
Can feed the[m] Sir, and yet they have found a General
That knows no ebbe of bountie: there they eat Sir,
And loath your invitations.
_Duke._ 'Tis not possible,
He's poor as they.
_Bor._ You'l find it otherwise.
Pray make your journey thither presently,
And as ye goe I'le open ye a wonder.
Good Sir this morning.
_Duke._ Follow me, I'le doe it. [_Exeunt._
SCENA II.
_Enter_ Olympia, Alinda, Burris, _and Gentlewomen_.
_Olym._ But do you think my Brother loves her?
_Bur._ Certain Madam,
He speaks much of her, and sometimes with wonder,
Oft wishes she were nobler born.
_Olym._ Do you think him honest?
_Bur._ Your Grace is nearer to his heart, than I am,
Upon my life I hold him so.
_Olym._ 'Tis a poor wench,
I would not have her wrong'd: methinks my Brother--
But I must not give rules to his affections;
Yet if he weigh her worth--
_Bur._ You need not fear Madam.
_Olym._ I hope I shall not: Lord _Burris_
I love her well; I know not, there is something
Makes me bestow more than a care upon her:
I do not like that ring from him to her;
I mean to women of her way, such tokens
Rather appear as baits, than royal bounties:
I would not have it so.
_Bur._ You will not find it,
Upon my troth I think his most ambition
Is but to let the world know h'as a handsom Mistris:
Will your grace command me any service to him?
_Olym._ Remember all my duty.
_Bur._ Blessings crown ye:
What's your will Lady?
_Al._ Any thing that's honest;
And if you think it fit, so poor a service,
Clad in a ragged vertue, may reach him,
I do beseech your Lordship speak it humbly.
_Bur._ Fair one I will: in the best phrase I have too,
And so I kiss your hand. [_Exit._
_Al._ Your Lordships Servant.
_Olym._ Come hither wench, what art thou doing with that Ring?
_Al._ I am looking on the posie, Madam.
_Olym._ What is't?
_Al._ The Jewel's set within.
_Olym._ But where the joy wench,
When that invisible Jewel's lost? why dost thou smile so?
What unhappy meaning hast thou?
_Al._. Nothing Madam,
But only thinking what strange spells these Rings have,
And how they work with some.
_Pet._ I fear with you too.
_Al._ This could not cost above a Crown.
_Pet._ 'Twill cost you
The shaving of your crown, if not the washing.
_Olym._ But he that sent it, makes the vertue greater;
_Al._ I and the vice too Madam: goodness bless me:
How fit 'tis for my finger!
_2 W._ No doubt you'l find too
A finger fit for you.
_Al._ Sirrah, _Petesca_,
What wilt thou give me for the good that follows this?
But thou hast Rings enough, thou art provided:
Heigh ho, what must I doe now?
_Pet._ You'l be taught that,
The easiest part that e're you learn't, I warrant you.
_Al._ Ay me, ay me.
_Pet._ You will divide too, shortly,
Your voice comes finely forward.
_Olym._ Come hither wanton,
Thou art not surely as thou saist.
_Al._ I would not:
But sure there is a witchcraft in this Ring, Lady,
Lord how my heart leaps!
_Pet._ 'Twill goe pit a pat shortly.
_Al._ And now methinks a thousand of the Dukes shapes.
_2 W._ Will no less serve ye?
_Al._ In ten thousand smiles.
_Olym._ Heaven bless the wench.
_Al._ With eyes that will not be deni'd to enter;
And such soft sweet embraces; take it from me,
I am undone else Madam: I'm lost else.
_Olym._ What ailes the girle?
_Al._ How suddenly I'm alter'd!
And grown my self again! do not you feel it?
_Olym._ Wear that, and I'le wear this:
I'le try the strength on't.
_Al._ How cold my bloud grows now!
Here's sacred vertue:
When I leave to honour this,
Every hour to pay a kiss,
When each morning I arise,
Or I forget a sacrifice:
When this figure in my faith,
And the pureness that it hath,
I pursue not with my will,
Nearer to arrive at still:
When I lose, or change this Jewel,
Flie me faith, and heaven be cruel.
_Olym._ You have half confirm'd me,
Keep but that way sure,
And what this charm can doe, let me endure. [_Exeunt._
SCENA III.
_Enter_ Archas, Theodore, _2 Daughters_ Honora _and_ Viola.
_Ar._ Carry your self discreetly, it concerns me,
The Duke's come in, none of your froward passions,
Nor no distasts to any: Prethee _Theodor_,
By my life, boy, 'twill ruine me.
_The._ I have done Sir,
So there be no foul play he brings along with him.
_Ar._ What's that to you?
Let him bring what please him,
And whom, and how.
_The._ So they mean well--
_Ar._ Is't fit you be a Judge sirrah?
_The._ 'Tis fit I feel Sir.
_Ar._ Get a banquet ready,
And trim your selves up handsomly.
_The._ To what end?
Do you mean to make 'em whores?
Hang up a sign then,
And set 'em out to Livery.
_Ar._ Whose son art thou?
_The._ Yours Sir, I hope: but not of your disgraces.
_Ar._ Full twenty thousand men I have commanded,
And all their minds, with this calm'd all their angers;
And shall a boy of mine own breed too, of mine own blood,
One crooked stick--
_The._ Pray take your way, and thrive in't,
I'le quit your house; if taint or black dishonour
Light on ye, 'tis your own, I have no share in't.
Yet if it do fall out so, as I fear it,
And partly find it too--
_Ar._ Hast thou no reverence?
No dutie in thee?
_The._ This shall shew I obey ye:
I dare not stay: I would have shew'd my love too,
And that you ask as duty, with my life Sir,
Had you but thought me worthy of your hazards,
Which heaven preserve ye from, and keep the Duke too:
And there's an end of my wishes, God be with ye. [_Exit._
_Ar._ Stubborn, yet full of that we all love, honesty.
_Enter_ Burris.
Lord _Burris_, where's the Duke?
_Bur._ In the great chamber Sir,
And there stayes till he see you, ye 'have a fine house here.
_Ar._ A poor contented lodge, unfit for his presence,
Yet all the joy it hath.
_Bur._ I hope a great one, and for your good, brave Sir.
_Ar._ I thank ye Lord:
And now my service to the Duke.
_Bur._ I'le wait on ye. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Duke, Boroskey, _Gent. and Attendants_.
_Duke._ May this be credited?
_Bor._ Disgrace me else,
And never more with favour look upon me.
_Duke._ It seems impossible.
_Bor._ It cannot chuse Sir,
Till your own eyes behold it; but that it is so,
And that by this means the too haughtie Souldier
Has been so cramm'd and fed, he cares not for ye;
Believe, or let me perish: Let your eyes
As you observe the house, but where I point it,
Make stay, and take a view, and then you have found it.
_Enter_ Archas, Burris, _2 Daughters, and Servant_.
_Du._ I'le follow your direction: welcome _Archas_,
You are welcome home brave Lord, we are come to visit ye,
And thank ye for your service.
_Ar._ 'Twas so poor Sir,
In true respect of what I owe your Highness,
It merits nothing.
_Du._ Are these fair ones yours, Lord?
_Ar._ Their Mother made me think so Sir.
_Du._ Stand up Ladies:
Beshrew my heart they are fair ones; methinks fitter
The lustre of the Court, than thus live darken'd:
I would see your house Lord _Archas_, it appears to me
A handsom pile.
_Ar._ 'Tis neat but no great structure;
I'le be your Graces guide, give me the keyes there.
_Du._ Lead on, we'l follow ye: begin with the Gallery,
I think that's one.
_Arc._ 'Tis so, and't please ye, Sir,
The rest above are lodgings all.
_Du._ Go on, Sir. [_Exeunt._
SCENE IV.
_Enter_ Theodore, Putskey, _and Ancient_.
_Puts._ The Duke gone thither, do you say?
_The._ Yes marry do I,
And all the Ducklings too; but what they'll do there--
_Puts._ I hope they'll crown his service.
_The._ With a Custard;
This is no weather for rewards: they crown his service?
Rather they go to shave his Crown: I was rated
As if I had been a Dog had worried Sheep, out of doors,
For making but a doubt.
_Puts._ They must now grace him.
_The._ Mark but the end.
_Anc._ I am sure they should reward him, they cannot want him.
_The._ They that want honesty, want any thing.
_Puts._ The Duke is so noble in his own thoughts.
_The._ That I grant ye,
If those might only sway him: but 'tis most certain,
So many new born Flies his light gave life to,
Buzze in his beams, Flesh-flies, and Butterflies,
Hornets, and humming Scarabs, that not one honey Bee
That's loaden with true labour, and brings home
Encrease and Credit, can 'scape rifling,
And what she sucks for sweet, they turn to bitterness.
_Anc._ Shall we go see what they do, and talk our mind to 'em?
_Puts._ That we have done too much, and to no purpose.
_Anc._ Shall we be hang'd for him?
I have a great mind to be hang'd now
For doing some brave thing for him; a worse end will take me,
And for an action of no worth; not honour him?
Upon my Conscience, even the Devil, the very Devil
(Not to belie him) thinks him an honest man,
I am sure he has sent him souls any time these twenty years,
Able to furnish all his Fish-markets.
_The._ Leave thy talking,
And come, let's go to dinner and drink to him,
We shall hear more ere supper time: if he be honour'd,
He has deserv'd it well, and we shall fight for't:
If he be ruin'd, so, we know the worst then,
And for my self, I'll meet it.
_Puts._ I ne'r fear it. [_Exeunt._
SCENE V.
_Enter Duke_, Archas, Boroskey, Burris, _Gentlemen, and
Attendants_.
_Du._ They are handsome rooms all, well contriv'd and fitted,
Full of convenience, the prospect's excellent.
_Arc._ Now will your Grace pass down, and do me but the honour
To taste a Countrey Banquet?
_Du._ What room's that?
I would see all now; what conveyance has it?
I see you have kept the best part yet; pray open it.
_Arc._ Ha! I misdoubted this: 'tis of no receipt, Sir,
For your eyes most unfit--
_Du._I long to see it,
Because I would judge of the whole piece: some excellent painting,
Or some rare spoils you would keep to entertain me
Another time, I know.
_A[r]c._ In troth there is not,
Nor any thing worth your sight; below I have
Some Fountains, and some Ponds.
_Du._ I would see this now.
_Ar._ _Boroskie_, thou art a Knave; it contains nothing
But rubbish from the other rooms and unnecessaries:
Will't please you see a strange Clock?
_Du._ This or nothing: [_Little Trunk ready._
Why should you bar it up thus with defences
Above the rest, unless it contain'd something
More excellent, and curious of keeping?
Open't, for I will see it.
_Arc._ The Keys are lost, Sir:
Does your Grace think if it were fit for you,
I could be so unmannerly?
_Du._ I will see it, and either shew it--
_Arc._ Good Sir--
_Du._ Thank ye, _Archas_,
You shew your love abundantly,
Do I use to entreat thus? force it open.
_Bur._ That were inhospitable; you are his Guest, Sir,
And with his greatest joy, to entertain ye.
_Du._ Hold thy peace, Fool; will ye open it?
_Arc._ Sir, I cannot.
I must not if I could.
_Du._ Go, break it open.
_Arc._ I must withstand that force: Be not too rash, Gentlemen.
_Du._ Unarm him first, then if he be not obstinate
Preserve his life.
_Arc._ I thank your Grace, I take it;
And now take you the Keys, go in, and see, Sir;
There feed your eyes with wonder, and thank that Traytor,
That thing that sells his faith for favour. [_Exit Duke._
_Bur._ Sir, what moves ye?
_Arc._ I have kept mine pure: Lord _Burris_, there's a _Judas_,
That for a smile will sell ye all: a Gentleman?
The Devil has more truth, and has maintain'd it;
A Whores heart more belief in't.
_Enter Duke._
_Du._ What's all this, _Archas_?
I cannot blame you to conceal it so,
This most inestimable Treasure.
_Ar._ Yours Sir.
_Du._ Nor do I wonder now the Souldier sleights me.
_Arc._ Be not deceiv'd; he has had no favour here, Sir,
Nor had you known this now, but for that Pick-thank,
The lost man in his faith, he has reveal'd it,
To suck a little honey from ye has betray'd it.
I swear he smiles upon me, and forsworn too,
Thou crackt, uncurrant Lord: I'll tell ye all, Sir:
Your Sire, before his death, knowing your temper,
To be as bounteous as the air, and open,
As flowing as the Sea to all that follow'd ye,
Your great mind fit for War and Glory, thriftily
Like a great Husband to preserve your actions,
Collected all this treasure; to our trusts,
To mine I mean, and to that long-tongu'd Lord's there,
He gave the knowledg and the charge of all this,
Upon his death-Bed too: And on the Sacrament
He swore us thus, never to let this Treasure
Part from our secret keepings, till no hope
Of Subject could relieve ye, all your own wasted,
No help of those that lov'd ye could supply ye,
And then some great exploit a foot; my honesty
I would have kept till I had made this useful;
I shew'd it, and I stood it to the tempest,
And useful to the end 'twas left: I am cozen'd,
And so are you too, if you spend this vainly;
This Worm that crept into ye has abus'd ye,
Abus'd your fathers care, abus'd his Faith too:
Nor can this mass of money make him man more,
A flea'd Dog has more soul, an Ape more honesty;
All mine ye have amongst it, farewel that,
I cannot part with't nobler; my heart's clear,
My Conscience smooth as that, no rub upon't:
But O thy Hell!
_Bor._ I seek no Heaven from you, Sir.
_Arc._ Thy gnawing Hell, _Boroskey_, it will find thee:
Would ye heap Coals upon his head has wrong'd ye,
Has ruin'd your estate? give him this money,
Melt it into his mouth.
_Du._ What little Trunk's that?
That there o'th' top, that's lockt?
_Bor._ You'll find it rich, Sir,
Richer I think than all.
_Arc._ You were not covetous,
Nor wont to weave your thoughts with such a courseness;
Pray rack not Honesty.
_Bor._ Be sure you see it.
_Du._ Bring out the Trunk.
_Enter with the Trunk._
_Arc._ You'll find that treasure too,
All I have left me now.
_Du._ What's this, a poor Gown?
And this a piece of _Seneca_?
_Arc._ Yes sure, Sir,
More worth than all your Gold, yet ye have enough on't,
And of a Mine far purer, and more precious;
This sells no friends, nor searches into counsels,
And yet all counsel, and all friends live here, Sir;
Betrays no Faith, yet handles all that's trusty:
Will't please you leave me this?
_Du._ With all my heart, Sir.
_Ar._ What says your Lordship to't?
_Bor._ I dare not rob ye.
_Arc._ Poor miserable men, you have rob'd your selves both;
This Gown, and this unvalu'd Treasure, your brave Father,
Found me a Child at School with, in his progress.
Where such a love he took to some few answers,
Unhappy Boyish toys hit in my head then,
That suddenly I made him, thus as I was,
(For here was all the Wealth I brought his Highness)
He carried me to Court, there bred me up,
Bestow'd his favours on me, taught me the Arms first,
With those an honest mind; I serv'd him truly,
And where he gave me trust, I think I fail'd not;
Let the World speak: I humbly thank your Highness,
You have done more, and nobler, eas'd mine age, Sir;
And to this care a fair _Quietus_ given,
Now to my Book again.
_Du._ You have your wish, Sir,
Let some bring off the treasure.
_Bor._ Some is his, Sir.
_Arc._ None, none, a poor unworthy reaper,
The Harvest is his Graces.
_Du._ Thank you, _Archas_.
_Arc._ But will not you repent, Lord? when this is gone
Where will your Lordship?--
_Bor._ Pray take you no care, Sir.
_Arc._ Does your Grace like my House?
_Du._ Wondrous well, _Archas_,
You have made me richly welcome.
_Arc._ I did my best, Sir.
Is there any thing else may please your Grace?
_Du._ Your Daughters
I had forgot, send them to Court.
_Arc._ How's that, Sir?
_Du._ I said your Daughters; see it done: I'll have 'em
Attend my Sister, _Archas_.
_Arc._ Thank your Highness.
_Du._ And suddenly. [_Exit._
_Arc._ Through all the ways I dare,
I'll serve your temper, though you try me far. [_Exit._
_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima._
_Enter_ Theodore, Putskey, _Ancient and Servant_.
_The._ I wonder we hear no news.
_Puts._ Here's your fathers servant,
He comes in haste too, now we shall know all, Sir.
_The._ How now?
_Ser._ I am glad I have met you, Sir; your father
Intreats you presently make haste unto him.
_The._ What news?
_Ser._ None of the best, Sir, I am asham'd to tell it,
Pray ask no more.
_The._ Did not I tell ye, Gentlemen?
Did not I prophesie? he's undone then.
_Ser._ Not so, Sir, but as near it--
_Puts._ There's no help now;
The Army's scatter'd all, through discontent,
Not to be rallied up in haste to help this.
_Anc._ Plague of the Devil; have ye watch'd your seasons?
We shall watch you ere long.
_The._ Farewel, there's no cure,
We must endure all now: I know what I'll do.
[_Exeunt_ Theodore _and Servant_.
_Puts._ Nay, there's no striving, they have a hand upon us,
A heavy and a hard one.
_Anc._ Now I have it,
We have yet some Gentlemen, some Boys of mettle,
(What, are we bob'd thus still, colted, and carted?)
And one mad trick we'll have to shame these Vipers;
Shall I bless 'em?
_Puts._ Farewel; I have thought my way too. [_Exit._
_Anc._ Were never such rare Cries in Christendome,
As _Mosco_ shall afford: we'll live by fooling
Now fighting's gone, and they shall find and feel it. [_Exit._
SCENE II.
_Enter_ Archas, Honora, _and_ Viola.
_Ar._ No more, it must be so; do you think I would send ye,
Your father and your friend--
_Viol._ Pray Sir, be good to us,
Alas, we know no Court, nor seek that knowledge;
We are content with harmless things at home,
Children of your content, bred up in quiet,
Only to know our selves, to seek a Wisedome
From that we understand, easie and honest;
To make our actions worthy of your Honour,
Their ends as innocent as we begot 'em;
What shall we look for Sir, what shall we learn there,
That this more private sweetness cannot teach us?
Vertue was never built upon ambition,
Nor the Souls Beauties bred out of Bravery:
What a terrible Father would you seem to us,
Now you have moulded us, and wrought our tempers
To easie and obedient ways, uncrooked,
Where the fair mind can never lose nor loiter,
Now to divert our Natures, now to stem us
Roughly against the tide of all this treasure?
Would ye have us proud? 'tis sooner bred than buried;
Wickedly proud? for such things dwell at Court, Sir.
_Hon._ Would ye have your Children learn to forget their father,
And when he dies dance on his Monument?
Shall we seek Vertue in a Sattin Gown;
Embroider'd Vertue? Faith in a well-curl'd Feather?
And set our Credits to the tune of green sleeves?
This may be done; and if you like, it shall be.
You should have sent us thither when we were younger,
Our maiden-heads at a higher rate; our Innocence
Able to make a Mart indeed: we are now too old, Sir,
Perhaps they'll think too cunning too, and slight us;
Besides, we are altogether unprovided,
Unfurnisht utterly of the rules should guide us:
This Lord comes, licks his hand, and protests to me;
Compares my Beauty to a thousand fine things;
Mountains, and Fountains, Trees, and Stars, and Goblins;
Now have not I the faith for to believe him;
He offers me the honourable courtesie,
To lye with me all night, what a misery is this?
I am bred up so foolishly, alas, I dare not,
And how madly these things will shew there.
_Arc._ I send ye not,
Like parts infected, to draw more corruption;
Like Spiders to grow great, with growing evil:
With your own Vertues season'd, and my prayers,
The Card of goodness in your minds, that shows ye
When ye sail false; the needle toucht with honour,
That through the blackest storms, still points at happiness;
Your Bodies the tall barks, rib'd round with goodness,
Your Heavenly Souls the Pilots, thus I send you;
Thus I prepare your Voyage; sound before ye,
And ever as you sail through this Worlds Vanity,
Discover Sholes, Rocks, Quicksands, cry out to ye,
Like a good Master tack about for Honour:
The Court is Vertue's School, at least it should be;
Nearer the Sun the Mine lies, the metal's purer:
Be it granted, if the spring be once infected,
Those Branches that flow from him must run muddy;
Say you find some Sins there, and those no small ones,
And they like lazie fits begin to shake ye:
Say they affect your strengths, my happy Children,
Great things through greatest hazards are atchiev'd still,
And then they shine, then goodness has his glory,
His Crown fast rivetted, then time moves under,
Where, through the mist of errors, like the Sun,
Through thick and pitchy Clouds, he breaks out nobly.
_Hon._ I thank you Sir, you have made me half a Souldier,
I will to Court most willingly, most fondly.
And if there be such stirring things amongst 'em,
Such Travellers into _Virginia_
As Fame reports, if they can win me, take me;
I think I have a close Ward, and a sure one;
An honest mind I hope, 'tis petticoat-proof,
Chain-proof, and Jewel-proof; I know 'tis Gold-proof,
A Coach and four Horses cannot draw me from it:
As for your handsome Faces, and filed Tongues,
Curl'd Millers heads, I have another word for them,
And yet I'll flatter too, as fast as they do,
And lye, but not as lewdly; Come, be valiant, Sister,
She that dares not stand the push o'th' Court, dares nothing,
And yet come off ungraced: Sir, like you,
We both affect great dangers now, and the World shall see
All glory lies not in Mans Victorie.
_Arc._ Mine own _Honora_.
_Viol._ I am very fearful,
Would I were stronger built: you would have me honest?
_Arc._ Or not at all my _Viola_.
_Viol._ I'll think on't,
For 'tis no easie promise, and live there:
Do you think we shall do well?
_Hon._ Why, what should aile us?
_Viol._ Certain they'll tempt us strongly; beside the glory
Which Women may affect, they are handsom Gentlemen,
Every part speaks: nor is it one denial,
Nor two, nor ten; from every look we give 'em,
They'll frame a hope; even from our prayers, promises.
_Hon._ Let 'em feed so, and be fat; there is no fear, wench,
I[f] thou beest fast to thy self.
_Viol._ I hope I shall be;
And your example will work more.
_Enter_ Theodore.
_Hon._ Thou shalt not want it.
_The._ How do you, Sir? can you lend a man an Angel?
I hear you let out money.
_Arc._ Very well, Sir,
You are pleasantly dispos'd: I am glad to see it.
Can you lend me your patience, and be rul'd by me?
_The._ Is't come to patience now?
_Arc._ Is't not a Vertue?
_The._ I know not: I ne'r found it so.
_Arc._ That's because
Thy anger ever knows, and not thy judgment.
_The._ I know you have been rifl'd.
_Arc._ Nothing less, Boy;
Lord, what opinions these vain People publish!
Rifl'd of what?
_The._ Study your Vertue, Patience,
It may get Mustard to your Meat. Why in such haste, Sir,
Sent ye for me?
_Arc._ For this end only, _Theodore_,
To wait upon your Sisters to the Court;
I am commanded they live there.
_The._ To th' Court, Sir?
_Arc._ To th' Court I say.
_The._ And must I wait upon 'em?
_Arc._ Yes, 'tis most fit you should, you are their Brother.
_The._ Is this the business? I had thought your mind, Sir,
Had been set forward on some noble action,
Something had truly stir'd ye. To th' Court with these?
Why, they are your Daughters, Sir.
_Arc._ All this I know, Sir.
_The._ The good old Woman on a Bed he threw:
To th' Court?
_Arc._ Thou art mad.
_The._ Nor drunk as you are:
Drunk with your duty, Sir: do you call it duty?
A pox of duty, what can these do there?
What should they do? Can ye look Babies, Sisters,
In the young Gallants eyes, and twirl their Band-strings?
Can ye ride out to air your selves? Pray Sir,
Be serious with me, do you speak this truly?
_Arc._ Why, didst thou never hear of Women
Yet at Court, Boy?
_The._ Yes, and good Women too, very good Women,
Excellent honest Women: but are you sure, Sir,
That these will prove so?
_Hon._ There's the danger, Brother.
_The._ God-a-mercy Wench, thou hast a grudging of it.
_Arc._ Now be you serious, Sir, and observe what I say,
Do it, and do it handsomly; go with 'em.
_The._ With all my heart, Sir; I am in no fault now;
If they be thought Whores for being in my Company;
Pray write upon their Backs, they are my Sisters,
And where I shall deliver 'em.
_Arc._ Ye are wondrous jocund,
But prithee tell me, art thou so lewd a Fellow?
I never knew thee fail a truth.
_The._ I am a Souldier,
And spell you what that means.
_Arc._ A Souldier?
What dost thou make of me?
_The._ Your Palate's down, Sir.
_Arc._ I thank ye, Sir.
_The._ Come, shall we to this matter?
You will to Court?
_Hon._ If you will please to honour us.
_The._ I'll honour ye, I warrant; I'll set ye off
With such a lustre, Wenches; alas poor _Viola_,
Thou art a fool, thou criest for eating white bread:
Be a good Huswife of thy tears, and save 'em,
Thou wilt have time enough to shed 'em, Sister.
Do you weep too? nay, then I'll fool no more.
Come worthy Sisters, since it must be so,
And since he thinks it fit to try your Vertues,
Be you as strong to truth, as I to guard ye,
And this old Gentleman shall have joy of ye. [_Exeunt._