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._


SCENE III.

        _Enter Duke, and_ Burris.

  _Du._ _Burris_ take you ten thousand of those Crowns,
  And those two Chains of Pearl they hold the richest,
  I give 'em ye.

  _Bur._ I humbly thank your Grace;
  And may your great example work in me
  That noble Charity to men more worthy,
  And of more wants.

  _Du._ You bear a good mind, _Burris_;
  Take twenty thousand now: be not so modest,
  It shall be so, I give 'em: go, there's my ring for't.

  _Bur._ Heaven bless your Highness ever.                       [_Exit._

  _Du._ You are honest.

        _Enter_ Alinda, _and_ Putskey _at door_.

  _Put._ They're coming now to Court, as fair as vertue:
  Two brighter Stars ne'er rose here.

  _Alin._ Peace, I have it,
  And what my Art can do; the Duke--

  _Put._ I am gone,
  Remember.                                                     [_Exit._

  _Alin._ I am counsell'd to the full, Sir.

  _Duke._ My pretty Mistris, whither lyes your business?
  How kindly I should take this, were it to me now?

  _Alin._ I must confess immediately to your Grace,
  At this time.

  _Duke._ You have no address, I do believe ye,
  I would ye had.

  _Alin._ 'Twere too much boldness, Sir,
  Upon so little knowledge, less deserving.

  _Duke._ You'll make a perfect Courtier.

  _Alin._ A very poor one.

  _Duke._ A very fair one, sweet; come hither to me.
  What killing eyes this Wench has! in his glory
  Not the bright Sun, when the _Sirian_ Star reigns,
  Shines half so fiery.

  _Alin._ Why does your Grace so view me?
  Nothing but common handsomness dwells here, Sir,
  Scarce that: your Grace is pleas'd to mock my meanness.

  _Duke._ Thou shalt not go: I do not lie unto thee,
  In my eye thou appear'st--

  _Alin._ Dim not the sight, Sir,
  I am too dull an object.

  _Duke._ Canst thou love me?
  Canst thou love him will honour thee?

  _Alin._ I can love,
  And love as you do too: but 'twill not shew well:
  Or if it do shew here where all light lustres,
  Tinsel affections make a glorious glistering,
  'Twill halt i'th' handsom way.

  _Duke._ Are ye so cunning?
  Dost think I love not truly?

  _Alin._ No, ye cannot,
  You never travel'd that way yet: pray pardon me,
  I prate so boldly to you.

  _Duke._ There's no harm done:
  But what's your reason, sweet?

  _Alin._ I would tell your Grace,
  But happily--

  _Duke._ It shall be pleasing to me.

  _Alin._ I should love you again, and then you would hate me.
  With all my service I should follow ye,
  And through all dangers.

  _Duke._ This would more provoke me,
  More make me see thy worths,
  More make me meet 'em.

  _Alin._ You should do so, if ye did well and truly:
  But though ye be a Prince, and have power in ye,
  Power of example too, ye have fail'd and falter'd.

  _Duke._ Give me example where?

  _Alin._ You had a Mistris,
  Oh Heaven, so bright, so brave a dame, so lovely,
  In all her life so true!

  _Duke._ A Mistris?

  _Alin._ That serv'd you with that constancy, that care,
  That lov'd your will, and woo'd it too.

  _Duke._ What Mistris?

  _Alin._ That nurs'd your honour up, held fast your vertue,
  And when she kist encreas'd, not stole your goodness.

  _Duke._ And I neglected her?

  _Alin._ Lost her, forsook her,
  Wantonly flung her off.

  _Duke._ What was her name?

  _Alin._ Her name as lovely as her self, as noble,
  And in it all that's excellent.

  _Duke._ What was it?

  _Alin._ Her name was _Beau-desert_:
  Do you know her now, Sir?

  _Duke._ _Beau-desert_? I do not remember--

  _Alin._ I know you do not;
  Yet she has a plainer name; Lord _Archas_ service;
  Do you yet remember her? there was a Mistris
  Fairer than Woman, far fonder to you, Sir,
  Than Mothers to their first-born joyes: Can you love?
  Dare you profess that truth to me a stranger,
  A thing of no regard, no name, no lustre,
  When your most noble love you have neglected,
  A beauty all the world would woo and honour?
  Would you have me credit this? think you can love me,
  And hold ye constant, when I have read this story?
  Is't possible you should ever favour me,
  To a slight pleasure prove a friend, and fast too,
  When, where you were most ty'd, most bound to benefit,
  Bound by the chains of honesty and honour,
  You have broke and boldly too? I am a weak one,
  Arm'd only with my fears: I beseech your Grace
  Tempt me no further.

  _Du._  Who taught you this Lesson?

  _Alin._ Woful experience, Sir: if you seek a fair one,
  Worthy your love, if yet you have that perfect,
  Two Daughters of his ruin'd vertue now
  Arrive at Court, excellent fair indeed, Sir,
  But this will be the Plague on't, they're excellent honest.

        _Enter_ Olympia _and_ Petesca _privately_.

  _Du._ I love thy face.

  _Alin._ Upon my life ye cannot:
  I do not love it my self, Sir, 'tis a lewd one,
  So truly ill Art cannot mend it; but if 'twere handsome,
  At least if I thought so, you should hear me talk, Sir,
  In a new strain; and though ye are a Prince,
  Make ye Petition to me too, and wait my answers;
  Yet o' my Conscience I should pity ye,
  After some ten years siege.

  _Du._ Prethee do now.

  _Alin._ What would ye do?

  _Du._ Why I would lye with ye.

  _Alin._ I do not think ye would.

  _Du._ In troth I would Wench.
  Here, take this Jewel.

  _Alin._ Out upon't, that's scurvy.
  Nay, if we do, sure we'll do for good fellowship,
  For pure love, or nothing: thus you shall be sure, Sir,
  You shall not pay too dear for't.

  _Du._ Sure I cannot.

  _Alin._ By'r Lady but ye may: when ye have found me able
  To do your work well, ye may pay my wages.

  _Pet._ Why does your Grace start back?

  _Olym._ I ha' seen that shakes me:
  Chills all my bloud: O where is faith or goodness?
  _Alinda_ thou art false, false, false thou fair one,
  Wickedness false; and (wo is me) I see it.
  For ever false.

  _Pet._ I am glad 't has taken thus right.                   [_Exeunt._

  _Alin._ I'le go ask my Lady, Sir.

  _Du._ What?

  _Alin._ Whether I shall lye with ye, or no: If I find her willing--
  For look ye Sir, I have sworn, while I am in her service--
  ('Twas a rash Oath I must confess.)

  _Du._ Thou mockst me.

  _Alin._ Why, would ye lye with me, if I were willing?
  Would you abuse my weakness?

  _Du._ I would piece it,
  And make it stronger.

  _Alin._ I humbly thank your highness,
  When you piece me, you must piece me to my Coffin:
  When you have got my Maiden-head, I take it,
  'Tis not an inch of an Apes tail will restore it,
  I love ye, and I honour ye, but this way
  I'le neither love nor serve ye.
  Heaven change your mind, Sir.                                 [_Exit._

  _Duke._ And thine too:
  For it must be chang'd, it shall be.                          [_Exit._


SCENE IV.

        _Enter_ Boroskie, Burris, Theodore, Viola _and_ Honora.

  _Bor._ They are goodly Gentlewomen.

  _Bur._ They are,
  Wondrous sweet Women both.

  _Theo._ Does your Lordship like 'em?
  They are my Sisters, Sir; good lusty Lasses,
  They'll do their labour well, I warrant ye,
  You'll find no Bed-straw here, Sir.

  _Hon._ Thank ye Brother.

  _The._ This is not so strongly built: but she is good mettle,
  Of a good stirring strain too: she goes tith, Sir.

        _Enter two Gentlemen._

  Here they be, Gentlemen, must make ye merry,
  The toyes you wot of: do you like their complexions?
  They be no Moors: what think ye of this hand, Gentlemen?
  Here's a white Altar for your sacrifice:
  A thousand kisses here. Nay, keep off yet Gentlemen,
  Let's start first, and have fair play: what would ye give now
  To turn the Globe up, and find the rich _Moluccas_?
  To pass the straights? here (do ye itch) by St _Nicholas_,
  Here's that will make ye scratch and claw,
  Claw my fine Gentlemen, move ye in divers sorts:
  Pray ye let me request ye, to forget
  To say your prayers, whilest these are Courtiers;
  Or if ye needs will think of Heaven, let it be no higher
  Than their eyes.

  _Bor._ How will ye have 'em bestow'd, Sir?

  _Theo._ Even how your Lordship please,
  So you do not bake 'em.

  _Bor._ Bake 'em?

  _Theo._ They are too high a meat that way, they run to gelly.
  But if you'll have 'em for your own diet, take my counsel,
  Stew 'em between two Feather-beds.

  _Bur._ Please you Colonel
  To let 'em wait upon the Princess?

  _Theo._ Yes, Sir,
  And thank your honour too: but then happily,
  These noble Gentlemen shall have no access to 'em,
  And to have 'em buy new Cloaths, study new faces,
  And keep a stinking stir with themselves for nothing,
  'Twill not be well i'faith: they have kept their bodies,
  And been at charge for Bathes: do you see that shirt there?
  Weigh but the moral meaning, 'twill be grievous:
  Alas, I brought 'em to delight these Gentlemen,
  I weigh their wants by mine: I brought 'em wholesome,
  Wholesome, and young my Lord, and two such blessings
  They will not light upon again in ten years.

  _Bor._ 'Tis fit they wait upon her.

  _Theo._ They are fit for any thing:
  They'll wait upon a man, they are not bashful,
  Carry his Cloak, or unty his points, or any thing,
  Drink drunk, and take Tobacco; the familiar'st fools--
  This wench will leap over Stools too, and sound a Trumpet,
  Wrastle, and pitch the Bar; they are finely brought up.

  _Bor._ Ladies, ye are bound to your Brother,
  And have much cause to thank him:
  I'le ease ye of this charge, and to the Princess,
  So please you, I'le attend 'em.

  _Theo._ Thank your Lordship:
  If there be e're a private corner as ye go, Sir,
  A foolish lobbie out o'th' way, make danger,
  Try what they are, try--

  _Bor._ Ye are a merry Gentleman.

  _The._ I would fain be your honours kinsman.

  _Bor._ Ye are too curst, Sir.

  _The._ Farewel wenches, keep close your ports, y'are washt else.

  _Hon._ Brother, bestow your fears where they are needful.
                                             [_Exit_ Boros. Honor. Viol.

  _The._ _Honor_ thy name is, and I hope thy Nature.
  Go after, Gentlemen, go, get a snatch if you can,
  Yond' old _Erra Pater_ will never please 'em.
  Alas I brought 'em for you, but see the luck on't,
  I swear I meant as honestly toward ye--
  Nay do not cry good Gentlemen: a little counsel
  Will do no harm: they'll walk abroad i'th' Evenings,
  Ye may surprize 'em easily, they wear no Pistols.
  Set down your minds in Metre, flowing Metre,
  And get some good old linnen Woman to deliver it,
  That has the trick on't: you cannot fail:
  Farewel Gentlemen.                                     [_Exeunt Gent._

  _Bur._ You have frighted off these flesh-flies.

  _The._ Flesh-flies indeed my Lord.

        _Enter a Servant._

  And it must be very stinking flesh they will not seize on.

  _Serv._ Your Lordship bid me bring this Casket.

  _Bur._ Yes, Good Colonel
  Commend me to your worthy Father, and as a pledge
  He ever holds my love, and service to him,
  Deliver him this poor, but hearty token,
  And where I may be his--

  _The._ Ye are too noble;
  A wonder here my Lord, that dare be honest,
  When all men hold it vitious: I shall deliver it,
  And with it your most noble love. Your servant.            [_Ex._ Bur.
  Were there but two more such at Court, 'twere Sainted,
  This will buy Brawn this Christmas yet, and Muscadine.          [_Ex._


SCENE V.

        _Enter Ancient, crying Brooms, and after him severally,
        four Souldiers, crying other things._ Boroskie _and Gent,
        over the Stage observing them_.

I. SONG.

  Anc.  _Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom,
        Come buy my Birchen Broom,
        I'th' Wars we have no more room,
        Buy all my bonnie Broom,
        For a kiss take two;
        If those will not do,
        For a little, little pleasure,
        Take all my whole treasure:
        If all these will not do't,
        Take the Broom-man to boot.
          Broom, Broom, the bonnie Broom._

II. SONG.

  1 Soul. _The Wars are done and gone,
          And Souldiers now neglected, Pedlers are,
          Come Maidens, come alone,
          For I can show you handsome, handsome ware;
          Powders for, for the head,
          And drinks for your bed,
          To make ye blith and bonney.
          As well in the night we Souldiers can fight,
          And please a young wench as any._

  2 Soul. _I have fine Potato's,
          Ripe Potato's._

III. SONG.

  3 Soul. _Will ye buy any Honesty, come away,
          I sell it openly by day,
          I bring no forced light, nor no Candle
          To cozen ye; come buy and handle:
          This will shew the great man good,
          The Tradesman where he swears and lyes,
          Each Lady of a noble bloud,
          The City dame to rule her eyes:
          Ye are rich men now: come buy, and then
          I'le make ye richer, honest men._

IV. SONG.

  4 Sol.  _Have ye any crackt maiden-heads, to new leach or mend?
          Have ye any old maiden-heads to sell or to change?
          Bring 'em to me with a little pretty gin,
          I'le clout 'em, I'le mend 'em, I'le knock in a pin,
            Shall make 'em as good maids agen,
            As ever they have been._

  _Bor._ What means all this, why do y'sell Brooms _Ancient_?
  Is it in wantonness, or want?

  _An._ The only reason is,
  To sweep your Lordships conscience: here's one for the nonce.
  Gape Sir, you have swallowed many a goodlier matter--
  The only casting for a crazie conscience.

  _3 Sol._ Will your Lordship buy any honestie? 'twill be worth your mony.

  _B[o]r._ How is this?

  _3 Sol._ Honestie my Lord, 'tis here in a quill.

  _An._ Take heed you open it not, for 'tis so subtle,
  The least puffe of wind will blow it out o'th' Kingdom.

  _2 Sol._ Will your Lordship please to taste a fine Potato?
  'Twill advance your wither'd state.

  _Anc._ Fill your honour full of most noble itches,
  And make Jack dance in your Lordships breeches.

  1 Sol.  _If your Daughters on their beds.
          Have bow'd, or crackt their maiden-heads;
          If in a Coach with two much tumbling,
          They chance to crie, fie, fo, what fumbling;
          If her foot slip, and down fall she,
          And break her leg 'bove the knee,
          The one and thirtieth of Februarie let this be ta'ne,
          And they shall be arrant maids again._

  _Bor._ Ye are brave Souldiers; keep your wantonness,
  A winter will come on to shake this wilfulness.
  Disport your selves, and when you want your mony--            [_Exit._

  _Anc._ Broom, Broom, &c.                            [_Exeunt Singing._


SCENA VI.

        _Enter_ Alinda, Honora, Viola.

  _Al._ You must not be so fearfull, little one,
  Nor Lady you so sad, you will ne're make Courtiers
  With these dull sullen thoughts; this place is pleasure,
  Preserv'd to that use, so inhabited;
  And those that live here, live delightfull, joyfull:
  These are the Gardens of _Adonis_, Ladies,
  Where all sweets to their free and noble uses,
  Grow ever young and courted.

  _Hon._ Bless me Heaven,
  Can things of her years arrive at these rudiments?
  By your leave fair Gentlewoman, how long have you been here?

  _Al._ Faith much about a week.

  _Hon._ You have studied hard,
  And by my faith arriv'd at a great knowledge.

  _Viol._ Were not you bashfull at first?

  _Al._ I, I, for an hour or two:
  But when I saw people laugh'd at me for it,
  And thought it a dull breeding--

  _Hon._ You are govern'd here then
  Much after the mens opinions.

  _Al._ Ever Lady.

  _Hon._ And what they think is honourable.--

  _Al._ Most precisely
  We follow with all faith.

  _Hon._ A goodly Catechisme.

  _Viol._ But bashfull for an hour or two?

  _Al._ Faith to say true,
  I do not think I was so long: for look ye,
  'Tis to no end here, put on what shape ye will,
  And soure your self with ne're so much austeritie,
  You shall be courted in the same, and won too,
  'Tis but some two hours more; and so much time lost,
  Which we hold pretious here: In so much time now
  As I have told you this, you may lose a Servant,
  Your age, nor all your Art can e're recover.
  Catch me occasion as she comes, hold fast there,
  Till what you do affect is ripn'd to ye.
  Has the Duke seen ye yet?

  _Hon._ What if he have not?

  _Al._ You do your beauties too much wrong, appearing
  So full of sweetness, newness; set so richly,
  As if a Counsel beyond nature fram'd ye.

  _Hon._ If we were thus, say heaven had given these blessings,
  Must we turn these to sin-oblations?

  _Al._ How foolishly this Countrey way shews in ye?
  How full of flegm? do you come here to pray, Ladies?
  You had best cry, stand away, let me alone Gentlemen,
  I'le tell my Father else.

  _Viol._ This woman's naught sure,
  A very naughtie woman.

  _Hon._ Come, say on friend,
  I'le be instructed by ye.

  _Al._ You'l thank me for't.

  _Hon._ Either I or the devil shall: The Duke you were speaking of.

  _Al._ 'Tis well remembred: yes, let him first see you,
  Appear not openly till he has view'd ye.

  _Hon._ He's a very noble Prince they say.

  _Al._ O wondrous gracious;
  And as you may deliver your self at the first viewing.
  For look ye, you must bear your self; yet take heed
  It be so season'd with a sweet humilitie,
  And grac'd with such a bountie in your beautie--

  _Hon._ But I hope he will offer me no ill?

  _Al._ No, no:
  'Tis like he will kiss ye, and play with ye.

  _Hon._ Play with me, how?

  _Al._ Why, good Lord, that you are such a fool now!
  No harm assure your self.

  _Viol._ Will he play with me too?

  _Al._ Look babies in your eyes, my prettie sweet one:
  There's a fine sport: do you know your lodgings yet?

  _Hon._ I hear of none.

  _Al._ I do then, they are handsom,
  Convenient for access.

  _Viol._ Access?

  _Al._ Yes little one,
  For visitation of those friends and Servants,
  Your beauties shall make choice of: friends and visits:
  Do not you know those uses? Alas poor novice;
  There's a close Cowch or two, handsomely placed too.

  _Viol._ What are those I pray you?

  _Al._ Who would be troubled with such raw things? they are to lie upon,
  And your love by ye; and discourse, and toy in.

  _Viol._ Alas I have no love.

  _Al._ You must by any means:
  You'l have a hundred, fear not.

  _Viol._ Honestie keep me:
  What shall I doe with all those?

  _Al._ You'l find uses:
  Ye are ignorant yet, let time work; you must learn too,
  To lie handsomly in your bed a mornings, neatly drest
  In a most curious Wastcoat, to set ye off well,
  Play with your Bracelets, sing: you must learn to rhime too,
  And riddle neatly; studie the hardest language,
  And 'tis no matter whether it be sense, or no,
  So it go seemlie off.  Be sure ye profit
  In kissing, kissing sweetly: there lies a main point,
  A key that opens to all practick pleasure;
  I'le help ye to a friend of mine shall teach ye,
  And suddenlie: your Country way is fulsome.

  _Hon._ Have ye schools for all these mysteries?

  _Al._ O yes,
  And several hours prefix'd to studie in:
  Ye may have Kalenders to know the good hour,
  And when to take a jewel: for the ill too,
  When to refuse, with observations on 'em;
  Under what Sign 'tis best meeting in an Arbor,
  And in what Bower, and hour it works; a thousand,
  When in a Coach, when in a private lodging,
  With all their vertues.

  _Hon._ Have ye studied these?
  How beastly they become your youth? how bawdily?
  A woman of your tenderness, a teacher,
  Teacher of these lewd Arts? of your full beauty?
  A man made up in lust would loath this in ye:
  The rankest Leacher, hate such impudence.
  They say the Devil can assume heavens brightness,
  And so appear to tempt us: sure thou art no woman.

  _Al._ I joy to find ye thus.

  _Hon._ Thou hast no tenderness,
  No reluctation in thy heart: 'tis mischief.

  _Al._ All's one for that; read these and then be satisfi'd,
  A few more private rules I have gather'd for ye,
  Read 'em, and well observe 'em: so I leave ye.                [_Exit._

  _Viol._ A wond[ro]us wicked woman: shame go with thee.

  _Hon._ What new _Pandoras_ box is this? I'le see it,
  Though presently I tear it. Read Thine _Viola_,
  'Tis in our own wills to believe and follow.

        _Worthy_ Honora, _as you have begun
        In vertues spotless school, so forward run:
        Pursue that nobleness, and chaste desire
        You ever had, burn in that holy fire;
        And a white Martyr to fair memorie
        Give up your name, unsoil'd of infamy._

  How's this? Read yours out Sister: this amazes me.

  Vio.  _Fear not thou yet unblasted Violet,
        Nor let my wanton words a doubt beget,
        Live in that peace and sweetness of thy bud,
        Remember whose thou art, and grow still good.
        Remember what thou art, and stand a storie
        Fit for thy noble Sex, and thine own glorie._

  _Hon._ I know not what to think.

  _Viol._ Sure a good woman,
  An excellent woman, Sister.

  _Hon._ It confounds me;
  Let 'em use all their arts, if these be their ends,
  The Court I say breeds the best foes and friends.
  Come, let's be honest wench, and doe our best service.

  _Viol._ A most excellent woman, I will love her.            [_Exeunt._




_Actus Quartus.  Scena Prima._


        _Enter_ Olympia _with a Casket, and_ Alinda.

  _Al._ Madam, the Duke has sent for the two Ladies.

  _Olym._ I prethee go: I know thy thoughts are with him.
  Go, go _Alinda_, do not mock me more.
  I have found thy heart wench, do not wrong thy Mistris,
  Thy too much loving Mistris: do not abuse her.

  _Al._ By your own fair hands I understand ye not.

  _Olym._ By thy own fair eyes I understand thee too much,
  Too far, and built a faith there thou hast ruin'd.
  Goe, and enjoy thy wish, thy youth, thy pleasure,
  Enjoy the greatness no doubt he has promised,
  Enjoy the service of all eyes that see thee,
  The glory thou hast aim'd at, and the triumph:
  Only this last love I ask, forget thy Mistris.

  _Al._ Oh, who has wrong'd me? who has ruin'd me?
  Poor wretched Girle, what poyson is flung on thee?
  Excellent vertue, from whence flows this anger?

  _Ol._ Go, ask my Brother, ask the faith thou gav'st me,
  Ask all my favours to thee, ask my love,
  Last, thy forgetfulness of good: then flye me,
  For we must part _Alinda_.

  _Al._ You are weary of me;
  I must confess, I was never worth your service,
  Your bounteous favours less; but that my duty,
  My ready will, and all I had to serve ye--
  O Heaven thou know'st my honestie.

  _Olym._ No more:
  Take heed, heaven has a justice: take this ring with ye,
  This doting spell you gave me: too well _Alinda_,
  Thou knew'st the vertue in't; too well I feel it:
  Nay keep that too, it may sometimes remember ye,
  When you are willing to forget who gave it,
  And to what vertuous end.

  _Al._ Must I goe from ye?
  Of all the sorrows sorrow has--must I part with ye?
  Part with my noble Mistris?

  _Olym._ Or I with thee wench.

  _Al._ And part stain'd with opinion? Farewel Lady,
  Happy and blessed Lady, goodness keep ye:
  Thus your poor Servant full of grief turns from ye,
  For ever full of grief, for ever from ye.
  I have no being now, no friends, no Country,
  I wander heaven knows whither, heaven knows how.
  No life, now you are lost: only mine innocence,
  That little left me of my self, goes with me,
  That's all my bread and comfort. I confess Madam,
  Truely confess, the Duke has often courted me.

  _Olym._ And pour'd his Soul into thee, won thee.

  _Al._ Do you think so?
  Well, time that told this tale, will tell my truth too,
  And say ye had a faithfull, honest Servant:
  The business of my life is now to pray for ye,
  Pray for your vertuous loves; Pray for your children,
  When Heaven shall make ye happy.

  _Olym._ How she wounds me!
  Either I am undone, or she must go: take these with ye,
  Some toyes may doe ye service; and this mony;
  And when ye want, I love ye not so poorly,
  Not yet _Alinda_, that I would see ye perish.
  Prethee be good, and let me hear: look on me,
  I love those eyes yet dearly; I have kiss'd thee,
  And now I'le doe't again: Farewel _Alinda_,
  I am too full to speak more, and too wretched.                [_Exit._

  _Al._ You have my faith,
  And all the world my fortune.                                 [_Exit._


SCENA II.

        _Enter_ Theodor.

  _The._ I would fain hear
  What becomes of these two Wenches:
  And if I can, I will doe 'em good.

        _Enter Gentleman, passing over the Stage._

  Do you hear my honest friend?
  He knows no such name:
  What a world of business,
  Which by interpretation are meer nothings,
  These things have here! 'Mass now I think on't better,
  I wish he be not sent for one of them
  To some of these by-lodgings: me thought I saw
  A kind of reference in his face to Bawderie.

        _Enter Gentleman, with a Gentlewoman, passing over the Stage._

  He has her, but 'tis none of them: hold fast thief:
  An excellent touzing knave. Mistris
  You are to suffer your penance some half hour hence now.
  How far a fine Court Custard with Plums in it
  Will prevail with one of these waiting Gentlewomen,
  They are taken with these soluble things exceedingly;
  This is some yeoman o'th' bottles now that has sent for her,
  That she calls Father: now woe to this Ale incense.
  By your leave Sir.

        _Enter a_ Servant.

  _Ser._ Well Sir; what's your pleasure with me?

  _The._ You do not know the way to the maids lodgings?

  _Ser._ Yes indeed do I Sir.

  _The._ But you will not tell me?

  _Ser._ No indeed will not I, because you doubt it.            [_Exit._

        _Enter_ 2 Servant.

  _The._ These are fine gim-cracks: hey, here comes another,
  A Flagon full of wine in's hand, I take it.
  Well met my friend, is that wine?

  _2 Ser._ Yes indeed is it.

  _The._ Faith I'le drink on't then.

  _2 Ser._ Ye may, because ye have sworn Sir.

  _The._ 'Tis very good, I'le drink a great deal now Sir.

  _2 Ser._ I cannot help it Sir.

  _The._ I'le drink more yet.

  _2 Ser._ 'Tis in your own hands.

  _The._ There's your pot, I thank ye.
  Pray let me drink again.

  _2 Ser._ Faith but ye shall not.
  Now have I sworn I take it. Fare ye well Sir.                 [_Exit._

        _Enter_ Lady.

  _The._ This is the fin'st place to live in I e're enter'd.
  Here comes a Gentlewoman, and alone; I'le to her.
  Madam, my Lord my Master.

  _Lady._ Who's your Lord Sir?

  _The._ The Lord _Boroskey_, Lady.

  _Lady._ Pray excuse me:
  Here's something for your pains: within this hour Sir,
  One of the choice young Ladies shall attend him:
  Pray let it be in that Chamber juts out to the water;
  'Tis private and convenient: doe my humble service
  To my honourable good Lord, I beseech ye Sir;
  If it please you to visit a poor Lady--
  You carrie the 'haviour of a noble Gentleman.

  _The._ I shall be bold.

  _Lady._ 'Tis a good aptness in ye.
  I lye here in the Wood-yard, the blue lodgings Sir;
  They call me merrily the Lady of the ---- Sir;
  A little I know what belongs to a Gentleman,
  And if it please you take the pains.                          [_Exit._

  _The._ Dear Lady, take the pains?
  Why a horse would not take the pains that thou requir'st now,
  To cleave old crab-tree: one of the choice young Ladies?
  I would I had let this Bawd goe, she has frighted me;
  I am cruelly afraid of one of my Tribe now;
  But if they will doe, the Devil cannot stop 'em.
  Why should he have a young Lady? are women now
  O'th' nature of Bottles, to be stopt with Corks?
  O the thousand little furies that flye here now!
  How now Captain?

        _Enter_ Putsky.

  _Puts._ I come to seek you out Sir,
  And all the Town I have travell'd.

  _The._ What's the news man?

  _Puts._ That that concerns us all, and very nearly:
  The Duke this night holds a great feast at Court,
  To which he bids for guests all his old Counsellors,
  And all his favourites: your Father's sent for.

  _The._ Why he is neither in council, nor in favour.

  _Pu._ That's it: have an eye now, or never, and a quick one,
  An eye that must not wink from good intelligence.
  I heard a Bird sing, they mean him no good office.

        _Enter_ Ancient.

  _The._ Art sure he sups here?

  _Puts._ Sure as 'tis day.

  _The._ 'Tis like then:
  How now, where hast thou been _Ancient_?

  _Anc._ Measuring the City:
  I have left my Brooms at gate here;
  By this time the Porter has stole 'em to sweep out Rascals.

  _Theod._ Bro[o]ms?

  _Anc._ I have been crying Brooms all the town over,
  And such a Mart I have made, there's no tread near it.
  O the young handsom wenches, how they twitter'd,
  When they but saw me shake my ware, and sing too;
  Come hither Master Broom-man I beseech ye:
  Good Master Broom-man hither, cries another.

  _The._ Thou art a mad fellow.

  _Anc._ They are all as mad as I: they all have tra[de]s now,
  And roar about the streets like Bull-beggers.

  _The._ What company of Souldiers are they?

  _Anc._ By this means I have gather'd
  Above a thousand tall and hardy Souldiers,
  If need be Colonel.

  _The._ That need's come _Ancient_,
  And 'twas discreetly done: goe, draw 'em presently,
  But without suspicion: this night we shall need 'em;
  Let 'em be near the Court, let _Putskie_ guide 'em;
  And wait me for occasion: here I'le stay still.

  _Puts._ If it fall out we are ready; if not we are scatter'd:
  I'le wait ye at an inch.

  _The._ Doe, Farewel.                                        [_Exeunt._


SCENA III.

        _Enter Duke_, Borosky.

  _Duke._ Are the Souldiers still so mutinous?

  _Bor._ More than ever,
  No Law nor Justice frights 'em: all the Town over
  They play new pranks and gambols: no mans person,
  Of what degree soever, free from abuses:
  And durst they doe this, (let your grace consider)
  These monstrous, most offensive things, these villanies,
  If not set on, and fed? if not by one
  They honour more than you? and more aw'd by him?

  _Duke._ Happily their own wants.

  _Boros._ I offer to supply 'em,
  And every hour make tender of their moneys:
  They scorn it, laugh at me that offer it:
  I fear the next device will be my life Sir;
  And willingly I'le give it, so they stay there.

  _Duke._ Do you think Lord _Archas_ privie?

  _Bor._ More than thought,
  I know it Sir, I know they durst not doe
  These violent rude things, abuse the State thus,
  But that they have a hope by his ambitions--

  _Duke._ No more: he's sent for?

  _Boros._ Yes, and will be here sure.

  _Duke._ Let me talk further with you anon.

  _Boros._ I'le wait Sir.

  _Duke._ Did you speak to the Ladies?

  _Boros._ They'l attend your grace presently.

  _Duke._ How do you like 'em?

  _Boros._ My eyes are too dull Judges.
  They wait here Sir.                                           [_Exit._

        _Enter_ Honora, _and_ Viola.

  _Duke._ Be you gone then: Come in Ladies,
  Welcom to th' court sweet beauties; now the court shines,
  When such true beams of beauty strike amongst us:
  Welcom, welcom, even as your own joyes welcom.
  How do you like the Court? how seems it to you?
  Is't not a place created for all sweetness?
  Why were you made such strangers to this happiness?
  Barr'd the delights this holds? the richest jewels
  Set ne're so well, if then not worn to wonder,
  By judging eyes not set off, lose their lustre:
  Your Country shades are faint; blasters of beauty;
  The manners like the place, obscure and heavie;
  The Rose buds of the beauties turn to cankers,
  Eaten with inward thoughts: whilst there ye wander.
  Here Ladies, here, you were not made for Cloisters,
  Here is the Sphere you move in: here shine nobly,
  And by your powerfull influence command all:
  What a sweet modestie dwells round about 'em,
  And like a nipping morn pulls in their blossoms?

  _Hon._ Your grace speaks cunningly, you doe not this,
  I hope Sir, to betray us; we are poor triumphs;
  Nor can our loss of honour adde to you Sir:
  Great men, and great thoughts, seek things great and worthy,
  Subjects to make 'em live, and not to lose 'em;
  Conquests so nobly won, can never perish;
  We are two simple maids, untutor'd here Sir;
  Two honest maids, is that a sin at Court Sir?
  Our breeding is obedience, but to good things,
  To vertuous and to fair: what wou'd you win on us?
  Why do I ask that question, when I have found ye?
  Your Preamble has pour'd your heart out to us;
  You would dishonour us; which in your translation
  Here at the Court reads thus, your grace would love us,
  Most dearly love us: stick us up for mistresses:
  Most certain, there are thousands of our sex Sir
  That would be glad of this, and handsom women,
  And crowd into this favour, fair young women,
  Excellent beauties Sir: when ye have enjoy'd 'em,
  And suckt those sweets they have, what Saints are these then?
  What worship have they won? what name you ghess Sir,
  What storie added to their time, a sweet one?

  _Duke._ A brave spirited wench.

  _Hon._ I'le tell your grace,
  And tell ye true: ye are deceiv'd in us two,
  Extreamly cozen'd Sir: And yet in my eye
  You are the handsomst man I ever lookt on,
  The goodliest Gentleman; take that hope with ye;
  And were I fit to be your wife (so much I honour ye)
  Trust me I would scratch for ye but I would have ye.
  I would wooe you then.

  _Duke._ She amazes me:
  But how am I deceiv'd?

  _Hon._ O we are too honest,
  Believe it Sir, too honest, far too honest,
  The way that you propound too ignorant,
  And there is no medling with us; for we are fools too,
  Obstinate, peevish fools: if I would be ill,
  And had a wantons itch, to kick my heels up,
  I would not leap into th' Sun, and doe't there,
  That all the world might see me: an obscure shade Sir,
  Dark as the deed, there is no trusting light with it,
  Nor that that's lighter far, vain-glorious greatness.

  _Duke._ You will love me as your friend?

  _Ho[n]._ I will honour ye,
  As your poor humble handmaid serve, and pray for ye.

  _Du._ What sayes my little one; you are not so obstinate?
  Lord how she blushes: here are truly fair souls:
  Come you will be my love?

  _Viol._ Good Sir be good to me,
  Indeed I'le doe the best I can to please ye;
  I do beseech your grace: Alas I fear ye.

  _Duke._ What shouldst thou fear?

  _Hon._ Fie Sir, this is not noble.

  _Duke._ Why do I stand entreating, where my power--

  _Hon._ You have no power, at least you ought to have none
  In bad and beastly things: arm'd thus, I'le dye here,
  Before she suffer wrong.

  _Duke._ Another _Archas_?

  _Hon._ His child Sir, and his spirit.

  _Duke._ I'le deal with you then,
  For here's the honour to be won: sit down sweet,
  Prethee _Honora_ sit.

  _Hon._ Now ye intreat I will Sir.

  _Duke._ I doe, and will deserve it.

  _Hon._ That's too much kindness.

  _Duke._ Prethee look on me.

  _Hon._ Yes: I love to see ye,
  And could look on an age thus, and admire ye:
  Whilst ye are good and temperate I dare touch ye,
  Kiss your white hand.

  _Duke._ Why not my lips?

  _Hon._ I dare Sir.

  _Duke._ I do not think ye dare.

  _Hon._ I am no coward.
  D[o] you believe me now? or now? or now Sir?
  You make me blush: but sure I mean no ill Sir:
  It had been fitter you had kiss'd me.

  _Du._ That I'le doe too.
  What hast thou wrought into me?

  _Hon._ I hope all goodness:
  Whilst ye are thus, thus honest, I dare do any thing,
  Thus hang about your neck, and thus doat on ye;
  Bless those fair lights: hell take me if I durst not--
  But good Sir pardon me. Sister come hither,
  Come hither, fear not wench: come hither, blush not,
  Come kiss the Prince, the vertuous Prince, the good Prince:
  Certain he is excellent honest.

  _Du._ Thou wilt make me--

  _Hon._ Sit down, and hug him softly.

  _Du._ Fie _Honora_,
  Wanton _Honora_; is this the modesty,
  The noble chastity your on-set shew'd me,
  At first charge beaten back? Away.

  _Hon._ Thank ye:
  Upon my knees I pray, heaven too may thank ye;
  Ye have deceiv'd me cunningly, yet nobly
  Ye have cozen'd me: In all your hopefull life yet,
  A Scene of greater honour you ne're acted:
  I knew fame was a lyar, too long, and loud tongu'd,
  And now I have found it: O my vertuous Master.

  _Viol._ My vertuous Master too.

  _Hon._ Now you are thus,
  What shall become of me let fortune cast for't.

        _Enter_ Alinda.

  _Du._ I'le be that fortune, if I live _Honora_,
  Thou hast done a cure upon me, counsel could not.

  _Al._ Here take your ring Sir, and whom ye mean to ruine,
  Give it to her next; I have paid for't dearly.

  _Hon._ A Ring to her?

  _Du._ Why frowns my fair _Alinda_?
  I have forgot both these again.

  _Al._ Stand still Sir,
  Ye have that violent killing fire upon ye,
  Consumes all honour, credit, faith.

  _Hon._ How's this?

  _Al._ My Royal Mistris favour towards me,
  Woe-worth ye Sir, ye have poyson'd, blasted.

  _Duke._ I sweet?

  _Al._ You have taken that unmanly liberty,
  Which in a worse man, is vain glorious feigning,
  And kill'd my truth.

  _Du._ Upon my life 'tis false wench.

  _Al._ Ladies,
  Take heed, ye have a cunning gamester,
  A handsom, and a high; come stor'd with Antidotes,
  He has infections else will fire your blouds.

  _Du._ Prethee _Alinda_ hear me.

  _Al._ Words steept in hony,
  That will so melt into your minds, buy Chastity,
  A thousand wayes, a thousand knots to tie ye;
  And when he has bound ye his, a thousand ruines.
  A poor lost woman ye have made me.

  _Du._ I'le maintain thee,
  And nobly too.

  _Al._ That Gin's too weak to take me:
  Take heed, take heed young Ladies: still take heed,
  Take heed of promises, take heed of gifts,
  Of forced feigned sorrows, sighs, take heed.

  _Du._ By all that's mine, _Alinda_--

  _Al._ Swear
  By your mischiefs:
  O whither shall I goe?

  _Duke._ Go back again,
  I'le force her take thee, love thee.

  _Alin._ Fare ye well, Sir,
  I will not curse ye; only this dwell with ye,
  When ever ye love, a false belief light on ye.                [_Exit._

  _Hon._ We'll take our leaves too, Sir.

  _Duke._ Part all the world now,
  Since she is gone.

  _Hon._ You are crooked yet, dear Master,
  And still I fear--                                          [_Exeunt._

  _Duke._ I am vext,
  And some shall find it.                                       [_Exit._


SCENE IV.

        _Enter_ Archas _and a Servant_.

  _Ar._ 'Tis strange
  To me to see the Court, and welcome:
  O Royal place, how have I lov'd and serv'd thee?
  Who lies on this side, know'st thou?

  _Ser._ The Lord _Burris_.

  _Ar._ Thou hast nam'd a Gentleman
  I stand much bound to:
  I think he sent the Casket, Sir?

  _Ser._ The same, Sir.

  _Ar._ An honest minded man, a noble Courtier:
  The Duke made perfect choice when he took him.
  Go you home, I shall hit the way
  Without a guide now.

  _Ser._ You may want something, Sir.

  _Ar._ Only my Horses,
  Which after Supper let the Groom wait with:
  I'le have no more attendance here.

  _Ser._ Your will, Sir.                                        [_Exit._

        _Enter_ Theodore.

  _Theo._ You are well met here, Sir.

  _Ar._ How now boy,
  How dost thou?

  _The._ I should ask
  You that question: how do you, Sir?
  How do you feel your self?

  _Ar._ Why well, and lusty.

  _The._ What do you here then?

  _Ar._ Why I am sent for
  To Supper with the Duke.

  _The._ Have you no meat at home?
  Or do you long to feed as hunted Deer do,
  In doubt and fear?

  _Ar._ I have an excellent stomach,
  And can I use it better
  Than among my friends, Boy?
  How do the Wenches?

  _The._ They do well enough, Sir,
  They know the worst by this time: pray be rul'd, Sir,
  Go home again, and if ye have a Supper,
  Eat it in quiet there: this is no place for ye,
  Especially at this time,
  Take my word for't.

  _Ar._ May be they'll drink hard;
  I could have drunk my share, Boy.
  Though I am old, I will not out.

  _The._ I hope you will.
  Hark in your ear: the Court's
  Too quick of hearing.

  _Ar._ Not mean me well?
  Thou art abus'd and cozen'd.
  Away, away.

  _The._ To that end Sir, I tell ye.
  Away, if you love your self.

  _Ar._ Who dare do these things,
  That ever heard of honesty?

  _The._ Old Gentleman,
  Take a fools counsel.

  _Ar._ 'Tis a fools indeed;
  A very fools: thou hast more of
  These flams in thee, these musty doubts:
  Is't fit the Duke send for me,
  And honour me to eat within his presence,
  And I, like a tale fellow, play at bo-peep
  With his pleasure?

  _The._ Take heed
  Of bo-peep with your pate, your pate, Sir,
  I speak plain language now.

  _Ar._ If 'twere not here,
  Where reverence bids me hold,
  I would so swinge thee, thou rude,
  Unmanner'd Knave; take from his bounty,
  His honour that he gives me, to beget
  Sawcy, and sullen fears?

  _The._ You are not mad sure:
  By this fair light, I speak
  But what is whisper'd,
  And whisper'd for a truth.

  _Ar._ A Dog: drunken people,
  That in their Pot see visions,
  And turn states, mad-men and Children:
  Prethee do not follow me;
  I tell thee I am angry:
  Do not follow me.

  _The._ I am as angry
  As you for your heart,
  I and as wilful too: go, like a Wood-cock,
  And thrust your neck i'th' noose.

  _Ar._ I'le kill thee,
  And thou speakst but three words more.
  Do not follow me.                                             [_Exit._

  _The._ A strange old foolish fellow: I shall hear yet,
  And if I do not my part, hiss at me.                          [_Exit._


SCENE V.

        _Enter two Servants preparing a Banquet._

  _1 Serv._ Believe me fellow here will be lusty drinking.
  Many a washt pate in Wine I warrant thee.

  _2 Ser._ I am glad the old General's come: upon my Conscience
  That joy will make half the Court drunk. Hark the Trumpets,
  They are coming on; away.

  _1 Ser._ We'll have a rowse too.                            [_Exeunt._

        _Enter Duke_, Archas, Burris, Boroskie, _Attend. Gent._

  _Duke._ Come seat your selves: Lord _Archas_ sit you there.

  _Ar._ 'Tis far above my worth.

  _Duke._ I'le have it so:
  Are all things ready?

  _Bor._ All the Guards are set,
  The Court Gates are shut.

  _Duke._ Then do as I prescrib'd ye.
  Be sure no further.

  _Bor._ I shall well observe ye.

  _Du._ Come bring some wine: here's to my Sister, Gentlemen;
  A health, and mirth to all.

  _Ar._ Pray fill it full, Sir.
  'Tis a high health to vertue: here Lord _Burris_,
  A maiden health: you are most fit to pledge it,
  You have a maiden soul and much I honour it.
  Passion o' me, ye are sad man.

  _Duke._ How now, _Burris_?
  Go to, no more of this.

  _Ar._ Take the rowse freely,
  'Twill warm your bloud, and make ye fit for jollity.
  Your Graces pardon: when we get a cup, Sir,
  We old men prate a pace.

  _Du._ Mirth makes a Banquet;
  As you love me no more.

  _Bur._ I thank your Grace.
  Give me it; Lord _Boroskie_.

  _Boros._ I have ill brains, Sir.

  _Bur._ Damnable ill, I know it.

  _Boros._ But I'le pledge, Sir,
  This vertuous health.

  _Bur._ The more unfit for thy mouth.

        _Enter two Servants with Cloaks._

  _Du._ Come, bring out Robes, and let my guests look nobly,
  Fit for my love and presence: begin downward.
  Off with your Cloaks, take new.

  _Ar._ Your grace deals truly,
  Like a munificent Prince, with your poor subjects,
  Who would not fight for you? what cold dull coward
  Durst seek to save his life when you would ask it?
  Begin a new health in your new adornments,
  The Dukes, the Royal Dukes: ha! what have I got
  Sir? ha! the Robe of death?

  _Du._ You have deserv'd it.

  _Ar._ The Livery of the Grave? do you start all from me?
  Do I smell of earth already? Sir, look on me,
  And like a man; is this your entertainment?
  Do you bid your worthiest guests to bloudy Banquets?

        _Enter a Guard._

  A Guard upon me too? this is too foul play
  Boy to thy good, thine honour: thou wretched Ruler,
  Thou Son of fools and flatterers, Heir of hypocrites,
  Am I serv'd in a Hearse that sav'd ye all?
  Are ye men or Devils? Do ye gape upon me,
  Wider, and swallow all my services?
  Entomb them first, my faith next, then my integrity,
  And let these struggle with your mangy minds,
  Your sear'd, and seal'd up Consciences, till they burst.

  _Boros._ These words are death.

  _Ar._ No those deeds that want rewards, Sirrah,
  Those Battels I have fought, those horrid dangers,
  Leaner than death, and wilder than destruction,
  I have march'd upon, these honour'd wounds, times story,
  The bloud I have lost, the youth, the sorrows suffer'd,
  These are my death, these that can ne're be recompenced,
  These that ye sit a brooding on like Toads,
  Sucking from my deserts the sweets and favours,
  And render me no pay again but poysons.

  _Bor._ The proud vain Souldier thou hast set--

  _Ar._ Thou lyest.
  Now by my little time of life lyest basely,
  Malitiously and loudly: how I scorn thee!
  If I had swel'd the Souldier, or intended
  An act in person, leaning to dishonour,
  As ye would fain have forced me, witness Heaven,
  Where clearest understanding of all truth is,
  (For these are spightful men, and know no piety)
  When _Olin_ came, grim _Olin_, when his marches,
  His last Incursions made the City sweat,
  And drove before him, as a storm drives Hail,
  Such showrs of frosted fears, shook all your heart-strings;
  Then when the _Volga_ trembled at his terrour,
  And hid his seven curl'd heads, afraid of bruising,
  By his arm'd Horses hoofs; had I been false then,
  Or blown a treacherous fire into the Souldier,
  Had but one spark of villany liv'd within me,
  Ye'ad had some shadow for this black about me.
  Where was your Souldiership? why went not you out?
  And all your right honourable valour with ye?
  Why met ye not the _Tartar_, and defi'd him?
  Drew your dead-doing sword, and buckl'd with him?
  Shot through his Squadrons like a fiery Meteor?
  And as we see a dreadful clap of Thunder
  Rend the stiffhearted Oaks, and toss their roots up:
  Why did not you so charge him? you were sick then,
  You that dare taint my credit slipt to bed then,
  Stewing and fainting with the fears ye had,
  A whorson shaking fit opprest your Lordship:
  Blush Coward, Knave, and all the world hiss at thee.

  _Du._ Exceed not my command.                                  [_Exit._

  _Bor._ I shall observe it.

  _Ar._ Are you gone too? Come weep not honest _Burris_,
  Good loving Lord, no more tears: 'tis not his malice,
  This fellows malice, nor the Dukes displeasure,
  By bold bad men crowded into his nature,
  Can startle me: fortune ne're raz'd this Fort yet:
  I am the same, the same man, living, dying;
  The same mind to 'em both, I poize thus equal;
  Only the jugling way that toll'd me to it,
  The _Judas_ way, to kiss me, bid me welcome,
  And cut my throat, a little sticks upon me.
  Farewel, commend me to his Grace, and tell him,
  The world is full of servants, he may have many:
  And some I wish him honest: he's undone else:
  But such another doating _Archas_ never,
  So try'd and touch'd a faith: farewell for ever.

  _Bur._ Be strong my Lord: you must not go thus lightly.

  _Ar._ Now, what's to do? what sayes the Law unto me?
  Give me my great offence that speaks me guil[t]y.

  _Bor._ Laying aside a thousand petty matters,
  As scorns, and insolencies both from your self and followers,
  Which you put first fire to, and these are deadly,
  I come to one main cause, which though it carries
  A strangeness in the circumstance, it carries death too,
  Not to be pardon'd neither: ye have done a sacriledge.

  _Ar._ High Heaven defend me man: how, how _Boroskie_?

  _Bor._ Ye have took from the Temple those vow'd Arms,
  The holy Ornament you hung up there,
  No absolution of your vow, no order
  From holy Church to give 'em back unto you
  After they were purified from War, and rested
  From bloud, made clean by ceremony: from the Altar
  You snatch'd 'em up again, again ye wore 'em,
  Again you stain'd 'em, stain'd your vow, the Church too,
  And rob'd it of that right was none of yours, Sir,
  For which the Law requires your head, ye know it.

  _Ar._ Those arms I fought in last?

  _Bor._ The same.

  _Ar._ God a mercy,
  Thou hast hunted out a notable cause to kill me:
  A subtle one: I dye, for saving all you;
  Good Sir, remember if you can, the necessity,
  The suddenness of time, the state all stood in;
  I was entreated to, kneel'd to, and pray'd to,
  The Duke himself, the Princes, all the Nobles,
  The cries of Infants, Bed-rid Fathers, Virgins;
  Prethee find out a better cause, a handsomer,
  This will undo thee too: people will spit at thee,
  The Devil himself would be asham'd of this cause;
  Because my haste made me forget the ceremony,
  The present danger every where, must my life satisfie?

  _Bor._ It must, and shall.

  _Ar._  O base ungrateful people,
  Have ye no other Swords to cut my throat with
  But mine own nobleness? I confess, I took 'em,
  The vow not yet absolv'd I hung 'em up with:
  Wore 'em, fought in 'em, gilded 'em again
  In the fierce _Tartars_ blouds; for you I took 'em,
  For your peculiar safety, Lord, for all,
  I wore 'em for my Countries health, that groan'd then:
  Took from the Temple, to preserve the Temple;
  That holy place, and all the sacred monuments,
  The reverent shrines of Saints, ador'd and honour'd,
  Had been consum'd to ashes, their own sacrifice;
  Had I been slack, or staid that absolution,
  No Priest had liv'd to give it; my own honour,
  Cure of my Country murder me?

  _Bor._ No, no Sir,
  I shall force that from ye, will make this cause light too,
  Away with him: I shall pluck down that heart, Sir.

  _Ar._ Break it thou mayest; but if it bend, for pity,
  Doggs, and Kites eat it: come I am honours Martyr.              [_Ex._


SCENE VI.

        _Enter Duke, and_ Burris.

  _Du._ Exceed my Warrant?

  _Bur._ You know he loves him not.

  _Du._ He dares as well eat death, as do it, eat wild-fire,
  Through a few fears I mean to try his goodness,
  That I may find him fit, to wear here, _Burris_;
  I know Boroskie hates him, to death hates him,
  I know he's a Serpent too, a swoln one,       [_Noise within._
  But I have pull'd his sting out: what noise is that?

  _The. within._ Down with 'em, down with 'em, down with the gates.

  _Sold. within._ Stand, stand, stand.

  _Puts. within._ Fire the Palace before ye.

  _Bur._ Upon my life the Souldier, Sir, the Souldier,
  A miserable time is come.

        _Enter Gentleman._

  _Gent._ Oh save him,
  Upon my knees, my hearts knees, save Lord _Archas_,
  We are undone else.

  _Du._ Dares he touch his Body?

  _Gent._ He racks him fearfully, most fearfully.

  _Du._ Away _Burris_,
  Take men, and take him from him; clap him up,
  And if I live, I'll find a strange death for him.          [_Ex._ Bur.
  Are the Souldiers broke in?

  _Gent._ By this time sure they are, Sir,
  They beat the Gates extreamly, beat the people.

  _Du._ Get me a guard about me; make sure the lodgings,
  And speak the Souldiers fair.

  _Gent._ Pray Heaven that take, Sir.                         [_Exeunt._

        _Enter_ Putskie, _Ancient, Souldiers, with Torches_.

  _Puts._ Give us the General, we'll fire the Court else,
  Render him safe and well.

  _Anc._ Do not fire the Cellar,
  There's excellent Wine in't, Captain, and though it be cold weather,
  I do not love it mull'd; bring out the General,
  We'll light ye such a Bone-fire else: where are ye?
  Speak, or we'll toss your Turrets, peep out of your Hives,
  We'll smoak ye else: Is not that a Nose there?
  Put out that Nose again, and if thou dar'st
  But blow it before us: now he creeps out on's Burrough.

        _Enter Gentleman._

  _Puts._ Give us the General.

  _Gent._ Yes, Gentlemen;
  Or any thing ye can desire.

  _Anc._ You musk-cat,
  Cordevant-skin we will not take your answer.

  _Puts._ Where is the Duke? speak suddenly, and send him hither.

  _Anc._ Or we'll so frye your Buttocks.

  _Gent._ Good sweet Gentlemen--

  _Anc._ We are neither good nor sweet, we are Souldiers,
  And you miscreants that abuse the General.
  Give fire my Boys, 'tis a dark Evening,
  Let's light 'em to their lodgings.

        _Enter_ Olympia, Honora, Viola, Theodore, _Women_.

  _Hon._ Good Brother be not fierce.

  _The._ I will not hurt her,
  Fear not sweet Lady.

  _Olym._ Nay, do what you please, Sir,
  I have a sorrow that exceeds all yours,
  And more, contemns all danger.

        _Enter Duke, above._

  _The._ Where is the Duke?

  _Du._ He's here; what would ye Souldiers? wherefore troop ye
  Like mutinous mad-men thus?

  _The._ Give me my Father.

  _Puts. Anc._ Give us our General.

  _The._ Set him here before us,
  Ye see the pledge we have got; ye see the Torches;
  All shall to ashes, as I live, immediately,
  A thousand lives for one.

  _Du._ But hear me?

  _Puts._ No, we come not to dispute.

        _Enter_ Archas, _and_ Burris.

  _The._ By Heaven I swear he's rackt and whipt.

  _Hon._ Oh my poor Father!

  _Puts._ Burn, kill and burn.

  _Arc._ Hold, hold, I say: hold Souldiers,
  On your allegiance hold.

  _The._ We must not.

  _Arc._ Hold:
  I swear by Heaven he is a barbarous Traitor stirs first,
  A Villain, and a stranger to Obedience,
  Never my Souldier more, nor Friend to Honour:
  Why did you use your old Man thus? thus cruelly
  Torture his poor weak Body? I ever lov'd ye.

  _Du._ Forget me in these wrongs, most noble _Archas_.

  _Arc._ I have balm enough for all my hurts: weep no more Sir
  A satisfaction for a thousand sorrows;
  I do believe you innocent, a good man,
  And Heaven forgive that naughty thing that wrong'd me:
  Why look ye wild, my friends? why stare ye on me?
  I charge ye, as ye are men, my men, my lovers,
  As ye are honest faithful men, fair Souldiers,
  Let down your anger: Is not this our Soveraign?
  The head of mercy, and of Law? who dares then,
  But Rebels, scorning Law, appear thus violent?
  Is this a place for Swords? for threatning fires?
  The Reverence of this House dares any touch,
  But with obedient knees, and pious duties?
  Are we not all his Subjects? all sworn to him?
  Has not he power to punish our offences?
  And do we not daily fall into 'em? assure your selves
  I did offend, and highly, grievously,
  This good, sweet Prince I offended, my life forfeited,
  Which yet his mercy and his old love met with,
  And only let me feel his light rod this way:
  Ye are to thank him for your General,
  Pray for his life and fortune; swear your bloods for him.
  Ye are offenders too, daily offenders,
  Proud insolencies dwell in your hearts, and ye do 'em,
  Do 'em against his Peace, his Law, his Person;
  Ye see he only sorrows for your sins,
  And where his power might persecute, forgives ye:
  For shame put up your Swords, for honesty,
  For orders sake, and whose ye are, my Souldiers,
  Be not so rude.

  _The._ They have drawn blood from you, Sir.

  _Arc._ That was the blood rebell'd, the naughty blood,
  The proud provoking blood; 'tis well 'tis out, Boy;
  Give you example first; draw out, and orderly.

  _Hon._ Good Brother, do.

  _Arc._ Honest and high example,
  As thou wilt have my Blessing follow thee,
  Inherit all mine honours: thank ye _Theodore_,
  My worthy Son.

  _The._ If harm come, thank your self, Sir,
  I must obey ye.                                               [_Exit._

  _Arc._ Captain, you know the way now:
  A good man, and a valiant, you were ever,
  Inclin'd to honest things; I thank ye, Captain.           [_Ex. Soul._
  Souldiers, I thank ye all: and love me still,
  But do not love me so you lose Allegiance,
  Love that above your lives: once more I thank ye.

  _Du._ Bring him to rest, and let our cares wait on him;
  Thou excellent old man, thou top of honour,
  Where Justice, and Obedience only build,
  Thou stock of Vertue, how am I bound to love thee!
  In all thy noble ways to follow thee!

  _Bur._ Remember him that vext him, Sir.

  _Du._ Remember?
  When I forget that Villain, and to pay him
  For all his mischiefs, may all good thoughts forget me.

  _Arc._ I am very sore.

  _Du._ Bring him to Bed with ease, Gentlemen,
  For every stripe I'll drop a tear to wash 'em,
  And in my sad Repentance--

  _Arc._ 'Tis too much,
  I have a life yet left to gain that love, Sir.              [_Exeunt._




_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._


        _Enter Duke_, Burris, _and Gentlemen_.

  _Duke._ How does Lord _Archas_?

  _Bur._ But weak, and't please ye;
  Yet all the helps that art can, are applied to him;
  His heart's untoucht, and whole yet; and no doubt, Sir,
  His mind being sound, his body soon will follow.

  _Du._ O that base Knave that wrong'd him, without leave too;
  But I shall find an hour to give him thanks for't;
  He's fast, I hope.

  _Bur._ As fast as irons can keep him:
  But the most fearful Wretch--

  _Du._ He has a Conscience,
  A cruel stinging one I warrant him,
  A loaden one: But what news of the Souldier?
  I did not like their parting, 'twas too sullen.

  _Bur._ That they keep still, and I fear a worse clap;
  They are drawn out of the Town, and stand in counsels,
  Hatching unquiet thoughts, and cruel purposes:
  I went my self unto 'em, talkt with the Captains,
  Whom I found fraught with nothing but loud murmurs,
  And desperate curses, sounding these words often
  Like Trumpets to their angers: we are ruin'd,
  Our services turn'd to disgraces, mischiefs;
  Our brave old General, like one had pilfer'd,
  Tortur'd, and whipt: the Colonels eyes, like torches,
  Blaze every where and fright fair peace.

  _Gent._ Yet worse, Sir;
  The news is currant now, they mean to leave ye,
  Leave their Allegiance; and under _Olins_ Charge
  The bloody Enemy march straight against ye.

  _Bur._ I have heard this too, Sir.

  _Du._ This must be prevented,
  And suddenly, and warily.

  _Bur._ 'Tis time, Sir,
  But what to minister, or how?

  _Du._ Go in with me,
  And there we'll think upon't: such blows as these,
  Equal defences ask, else they displease.                    [_Exeunt._


SCENE II.

        _Enter_ Petesca, _and Gentlewoman_.

  _Pet._ Lord, what a coil has here been with these Souldiers!
  They are cruel fellows.

  _Wom._ And yet methought we found 'em
  Handsome enough; I'll tell thee true, _Petesca_,
  I lookt for other manner of dealings from 'em,
  And had prepar'd my self; but where's my Lady?

  _Pet._ In her old dumps within: monstrous melancholy;
  Sure she was mad of this Wench.

  _Wom._ And she had been a man,
  She would have been a great deal madder, I am glad she is shifted.

  _Pet._ 'Twas a wicked thing for me to betray her,
  And yet I must confess she stood in our lights.

        _Enter_ Alinda.

  What young thing's this?

  _Alin._ Good morrow beauteous Gentlewomen:
  'Pray ye is the Princess stirring yet?

  _Wom._ He has her face.

  _Pet._ Her very tongue, and tone too: her youth upon him.

  _Alin._ I guess ye to be the Princess Women.

  _Pet._ Yes, we are, Sir.

  _Alin._ Pray is there not a Gentlewoman waiting on her Grace,
  Ye call _Alinda_?

  _Pet._ The Devil sure in her shape.

  _Wom._ I have heard her tell my Lady of a Brother,
  An only Brother that she had: in travel--

  _Pet._ 'Mass, I remember that: this may be he too:
  I would this thing would serve her.

        _Enter_ Olympia.

  _Wom._ So would I Wench,
  We should love him better sure: Sir, here's the Princess,
  She best can satisfie ye.

  _Alin._ How I love that presence!
  O blessed Eyes, how nobly shine your comforts!

  _Olym._ What Gentleman is that?

  _Wom._ We know not, Madam:
  He ask'd us for your Grace: and as we guess it,
  He is _Alinda_'s Brother.

  _Olym._ Ha! let me mark him:
  My grief has almost blinded me: her Brother?
  By _Venus_, he has all her sweetness upon him:
  Two silver drops of dew were never liker.

  _Alin._ Gracious Lady--

  _Olym._ That pleasant pipe he has too.

  _Alin._ Being my happiness to pass by this way,
  And having as I understand by Letters,
  A Sister in your vertuous service, Madam--

  _Olym._ O now my heart, my heart akes.

  _Alin._ All the comfort
  My poor youth has, all that my hopes have built me,
  I thought it my first duty, my best service,
  Here to arrive first, humbly to thank your Grace
  For my poor Sister, humbly to thank your Nobleness,
  That bounteous Goodness in ye.

  _Olym._ 'Tis he certainly.

  _Alin._ That spring of favour to her; with my life, Madam,
  If any such most happy means might meet me,
  To shew my thankfulness.

  _Olym._ What have I done, Fool!

  _Alin._ She came a stranger to your Grace, no Courtier;
  Nor of that curious breed befits your service,
  Yet one I dare assure my Soul, that lov'd ye
  Before she saw ye; doted on your Vertues;
  Before she knew those fair eyes, long'd to read 'em,
  You only had her prayers, you her wishes;
  And that one hope to be yours once, preserv'd her.

  _Olym._ I have done wickedly.

  _Alin._ A little Beauty,
  Such as a Cottage breeds, she brought along with her;
  And yet our Country-eyes esteem'd it much too:
  But for her beauteous mind, forget great Lady,
  I am her Brother, and let me speak a stranger,
  Since she was able to beget a thought, 'twas honest.
  The daily study how to fit your services,
  Truly to tread that vertuous path you walk in,
  So fir'd her honest Soul, we thought her Sainted;
  I presume she is still the same: I would fain see her,
  For Madam, 'tis no little love I owe her.

  _Olym._ Sir, such a maid there was, I had--

  _Alin._ There was, Madam?

  _Olym._ O my poor Wench: eyes, I will ever curse ye
  For your Credulity, _Alinda_.

  _Alin._ That's her name, Madam.

  _Olym._ Give me a little leave, Sir, to lament her.

  _Alin._ Is she dead, Lady?

  _Olym._ Dead, Sir, to my service.
  She is gone, pray ye ask no further.

  _Alin._ I obey Madam:
  Gone? now must I lament too: said ye gone Madam?

  _Olym._ Gone, gone for ever.

  _Alin._ That's a cruel saying:
  Her honour too?

  _Olym._ Prithee look angry on me,
  And if thou ever lovedst her, spit upon me;
  Do something like a Brother, like a friend,
  And do not only say thou lov'st her--

  _Al._ Ye amaze me.

  _Oly._ I ruin'd her, I wrong'd her, I abus'd her;
  Poor innocent soul, I flung her; sweet _Alinda_,
  Thou vertuous maid, my soul now calls thee vertuous.
  Why do ye not rail now at me?

  _Al._ For what Lady?

  _Oly._ Call me base treacherous woman.

  _Al._ Heaven defend me.

  _Oly._ Rashly I thought her false, and put her from me,
  Rashly, and madly I betrai'd her modesty,
  Put her to wander, heaven knows where: nay, more Sir,
  Stuck a black brand upon her.

  _Al._ 'Twas not well Lady.

  _Oly._ 'Twas damnable: she loving me so dearly,
  Never poor wench lov'd so: Sir believe me,
  'Twas the most dutious wench, the best companion,
  When I was pleas'd, the happiest, and the gladdest,
  The modestest sweet nature dwelt within her:
  I saw all this, I knew all this, I lov'd it,
  I doated on it too, and yet I kill'd it:
  O what have I forsaken? what have I lost?

  _Al._ Madam, I'le take my leave, since she is wandring,
  'Tis fit I know no rest.

  _Oly._ Will you go too Sir?
  I have not wrong'd you yet, if you dare trust me,
  For yet I love _Alinda_ there, I honour her,
  I love to look upon those eyes that speak her,
  To read that face again, (modesty keep me,)
  _Alinda_, in that shape: but why should you trust me,
  'Twas I betray'd your Sister, I undid her;
  And believe me, gentle youth, 'tis I weep for her:
  Appoint what penance you please: but stay then,
  And see me perform it: ask what honour this place
  Is able to heap on ye, or what wealth:
  If following me will like ye, my care of ye,
  Which for your sisters sake, for your own goodness--

  _Al._ Not all the honour earth has, now she's gone Lady,
  Not all the favour; yet if I sought preferment,
  Under your bounteous Grace I would only take it.
  Peace rest upon ye: one sad tear every day
  For poor _Alindas_. sake, 'tis fit ye pay.                    [_Exit._

  _Oly._ A thousand noble youth, and when I sleep,
  Even in my silver slumbers still I'le weep.                   [_Exit._


SCENA III.

        _Enter_ Duke, _and Gentlemen_.

  _Duke._ Have ye been with 'em?

  _Gent._ Yes, and't please your Grace,
  But no perswasion serves 'em, nor no promise,
  They are fearfull angry, and by this time Sir,
  Upon their march to the Enemy.

  _Du._ They must be stopt.

        _Enter_ Burris.

  _Gent._ I, but what force is able? and what leader--

  _Du._ How now, have you been with _Archas_?

  _Bur._ Yes, and't please ye,
  And told him all: he frets like a chaf'd Lyon,
  And calls for his Arms: and all those honest Courtiers
  That dare draw Swords.

  _Du._ Is he able to do any thing?

  _Bur._ His mind is well enough; and where his charge is,
  Let him be ne're so sore, 'tis a full Army.

  _Du._ Who commands the Rebels?

  _Bur._ The young Colonel,
  That makes the old man almost mad: he swears Sir,
  He will not spare his Sons head for the Dukedom.

  _Du._ Is the Court in Arms?

  _Bur._ As fast as they can bustle,
  Every man mad to goe now: inspir'd strangely,
  As if they were to force the Enemy,
  I beseech your Grace to give me leave.

  _Du._ Pray go Sir,
  And look to the old man well; take up all fairly,
  And let no bloud be spilt; take general pardons,
  And quench this fury with fair peace.

  _Bur._ I shall Sir,
  Or seal it with my service; they are villains:
  The Court is up: good Sir, go strengthen 'em,
  Your Royal sight will make 'em scorn all dangers;
  The General needs no proof.

  _Duke._ Come let's go view 'em.                             [_Exeunt._


SCENA IV.

        _Enter_ Theodore, Putskie, _Ancient_, _Souldiers_, _Drums_,
        _and Colours_.

  _The._ 'Tis known we are up, and marching: no submission,
  No promise of base peace can cure our maladies,
  We have suffer'd beyond all repair of honour:
  Your valiant old man's whipt; whipt Gentlemen,
  Whipt like a slave: that flesh that never trembled,
  Nor shrunk one sinew at a thousand charges,
  That noble body rib'd in arms, the Enemy
  So often shook at, and then shun'd like thunder,
  That body's torn with lashes.

  _Anc._ Let's turn head.

  _Put._ Turn nothing Gentlemen, let's march on fairly,
  Unless they charge us.

  _The._ Think still of his abuses,
  And keep your angers.

  _Anc._ He was whipt like a top,
  I never saw a whore so lac'd: Court school-butter?
  Is this their diet? I'le dress 'em one running banquet:
  What Oracle can alter us? did not we see him?
  See him we lov'd?

  _The._ And though we did obey him,
  Forc'd by his reverence for that time; is't fit Gentlemen?
  My noble friends, is't fit we men, and Souldiers,
  Live to endure this, and look on too?

  _Put._ Forward:
  They may call back the Sun as soon, stay time,
  Prescribe a Law to death, as we endure this.

  _The._ They will make ye all fair promises.

  _Anc._ We care not.

  _The._ Use all their arts upon ye.

  _Anc._ Hang all their arts.

  _Put._ And happily they'l bring him with 'em.

  _Anc._ March apace then,
  He is old and cannot overtake us.

  _Put._ Say he doe.

  _Anc._ We'l run away with him: they shall never see him more:
  The truth is, we'l hear nothing, stop at nothing,
  Consider nothing but our way; believe nothing,
  Not though they say their prayers: be content with nothing,
  But the knocking out their brains: and last, do nothing
  But ban 'em and curse 'em, till we come to kill 'em.

  _The._ Remove then forwards bravely; keep your minds whole,
  And the next time we face 'em, shall be fatal.              [_Exeunt._


SCENA V.

        _Enter_ Archas, _Duke,_ Burris, _Gent_, _and Sould_.

  _Ar._ Peace to your Grace; take rest Sir, they are before us.

  _Gent._ They are Sir, and upon the march.                [_Exit_ Duke.

  _Ar._ Lord _Burris_,
  Take you those horse and coast 'em: upon the first advantage,
  If they will not slake their march, charge 'em up roundly,
  By that time I'le come in.

  _Bur._ I'le do it truly.                                      [_Exit._

  _Gent._ How do you feel your self Sir?

  _Ar._ Well, I thank ye;
  A little weak, but anger shall supply that;
  You will all stand bravely to it?

  _All._ Whilst we have lives Sir.

  _Ar._ Ye speak like Gentlemen; I'le make the knaves know,
  The proudest, and the strongest hearted Rebel,
  They have a law to live in, and they shall have;
  Beat up a pace, by this time he is upon 'em,           [_Drum within._
  And sword, but hold me now, thou shalt play ever.           [_Exeunt._

        _Enter Drums beating_, Theodore, Putskie, _Ancient_,
        _and their Souldiers._

  _The._ Stand, stand, stand close, and sure;

        _Enter_ Burris, _and 1 or 2 Souldiers_.

  The horse will charge us.

  _Anc._ Let 'em come on, we have provender fit for 'em.

  _Put._ Here comes Lord _Burris_ Sir, I think to parly.

  _The._ You are welcom noble Sir, I hope to our part.

  _Bur._ No, valiant Colonel, I am come to chide ye,
  To pity ye; to kill ye, if these fail me;
  Fie, what dishonour seek ye! what black infamy!
  Why do ye draw out thus? draw all shame with ye?
  Are these fit cares in subjects? I command ye
  Lay down your arms again, move in that peace,
  That fair obedience you were bred in.

  _Put._ Charge us:
  We come not here to argue.

  _The._ Charge up bravely,
  And hotly too, we have hot spleens to meet ye,
  Hot as the shames are offer'd us.

        _Enter_ Archas, _Gent. and Souldiers_.

  _Bur._ Look behind ye.
  Do you see that old man? do you know him Souldiers?

  _Put._ Your Father Sir, believe me--

  _Bur._ You know his marches,
  You have seen his executions: is it yet peace?

  _The._ We'l dye here first.

  _Bur._ Farewel: you'l hear on's presently.

  _Ar._ Stay _Burris_: this is too poor, too beggerly a body
  To bear the honour of a charge from me,
  A sort of tatter'd Rebels; go provide Gallowses;
  Ye are troubled with hot heads, I'le cool ye presently:
  These look like men that were my Souldiers
  Now I behold 'em nearly, and more narrowly,
  My honest friends: where got they these fair figures?
  Where did they steal these shapes?

  _Bur._ They are struck already.

  _Ar._ Do you see that fellow there, that goodly Rebel?
  He looks as like a Captain I lov'd tenderly:
  A fellow of a faith indeed.

  _Bur._ He has sham'd him.

  _Ar._ And that that bears the Colours there, most certain
  So like an Ancient of mine own, a brave fellow,
  A loving and obedient, that believe me _Burris_,
  I am amaz'd and troubled: and were it not
  I know the general goodness of my people,
  The duty, and the truth, the stedfast honestie,
  And am assur'd they would as soon turn Devils
  As rebels to allegeance, for mine honour.

  _Bur._ Here needs no wars.

  _Put._ I pray forgive us Sir.

  _Anc._ Good General forgive us, or use your sword,
  Your words are double death.

  _All._ Good noble General.

  _Bur._ Pray Sir be mercifull.

  _Ar._ Weep out your shames first,
  Ye make me fool for companie: fie Souldiers,
  My Souldiers too, and play these tricks? what's he there?
  Sure I have seen his face too; yes, most certain
  I have a son, but I hope he is not here now,
  'Would much resemble this man, wondrous near him,
  Just of his height and making too, you seem a Leader.

  _The._ Good Sir, do not shame me more: I know your anger,
  And less than death I look not for.

  _Ar._ You shall be my charge Sir, it seems you want foes,
  When you would make your friends your Enemies.
  A running bloud ye have, but I shall cure ye.

  _Bur._ Good Sir--

  _An._ No more good Lord: beat forward Souldiers:
  And you, march in the rear, you have lost your places.      [_Exeunt._


SCENA VI.

        _Enter Duke_, Olympia, Honora, Viola.

  _Du._ You shall not be thus sullen still with me Sister,
  You do the most unnobly to be angry,
  For as I have a soul, I never touch'd her,
  I never yet knew one unchast thought in her:
  I must confess, I lov'd her: as who would not?
  I must confess I doated on her strangely,
  I offer'd all, yet so strong was her honour,
  So fortifi'd as fair, no hope could reach her,
  And whilst the world beheld this, and confirm'd it,
  Why would you be so jealous?

  _Oly._ Good Sir pardon me,
  I feel sufficiently my follies penance,
  And am asham'd, that shame a thousand sorrows
  Feed on continually, would I had never seen her,
  Or with a clearer judgement look'd upon her,
  She was too good for me, so heavenly good Sir,
  Nothing but Heaven can love that soul sufficiently,
  Where I shall see her once again.

        _Enter_ Burris.

  _Du._ No more tears,
  If she be within the Dukedom, we'l recover her:
  Welcom Lord _Burris_, fair news I hope.

  _Bur._ Most fair Sir,
  Without one drop of bloud these wars are ended,
  The Souldier cool'd again, indeed asham'd Sir,
  And all his anger ended.

  _Du._ Where's Lord _Archas_?

  _Bur._ Not far off Sir: with him his valiant son,
  Head of this fire, but now a prisoner,
  And if by your sweet mercy not prevented,
  I fear some fatal stroke.                                    [_Drums._

        _Enter_ Archas, Theodore, _Gentlemen_, _Souldiers_.

  _Du._ I hear the Drums beat,
  Welcom, my worthy friend.

  _Ar._ Stand where ye are Sir,
  Even as you love your country, move not forward,
  Nor plead for peace till I have done a justice,
  A justice on this villain; none of mine now,
  A justice on this Rebel.

  _Hon._ O my Brother.

  _Ar._ This fatal firebrand--

  _Du._ Forget not old man,
  He is thy son, of thine own bloud.

  _Ar._ In these veins
  No treacherie e're harbour'd yet, no mutinie,
  I ne're gave life to lewd and headstrong Rebels.

  _Du._ 'Tis his first fault.

  _Ar._ Not of a thousand Sir,
  Or were it so, it is a fault so mightie,
  So strong against the nature of all mercy,
  His Mother were she living, would not weep for him,
  He dare not say he would live.

  _The._ I must not Sir,
  Whilst you say 'tis not fit: your Graces mercy
  Not to my life appli'd, but to my fault Sir,
  The worlds forgiveness next, last, on my knees Sir,
  I humbly beg,
  Do not take from me yet the name of Father,
  Strike me a thousand blows, but let me dye yours.

  _Ar._ He moves my heart: I must be suddain with him,
  I shall grow faint else in my execution;
  Come, come Sir, you have seen death; now meet him bravely.

  _Du._ Hold, hold I say, a little hold, consider
  Thou hast no more sons _Archas_ to inherit thee.

  _Ar._ Yes Sir, I have another, and a nobler:
  No treason shall inherit me: young _Archas_
  A boy, as sweet as young, my Brother breeds him,
  My noble Brother _Briskie_ breeds him nobly,
  Him let your favour find: give him your honour.

        _Enter_ Putskie (_alias_ Briskie) _and_ Alinda,
        (_alias_ Archas.)

  _Pu._ Thou hast no child left _Archas_, none to inherit thee
  If thou strikst that stroke now: behold young _Archas_;
  Behold thy Brother here, thou bloudy Brother,
  As bloody to this sacrifice as thou art:
  Heave up thy sword, and mine's heav'd up: strike _Archas_,
  And I'le strike too as suddenly, as deadly:
  Have mercy, and I'le have mercy: the Duke gives it.
  Look upon all these, how they weep it from thee,
  Choose quickly, and begin.

  _Du._ On your obedience,
  On your allegeance save him.

  _Ar._ Take him to ye,                                  [_Soul. shout._
  And sirrah, be an honest man, ye have reason:
  I thank ye worthy Brother: welcom child,
  Mine own sweet child.

  _Du._ Why was this boy conceal'd thus?

  _Put._ Your graces pardon:
  Fearing the vow you made against my Brother,
  And that your anger would not only light
  On him, but find out all his familie,
  This young boy, to preserve from after danger,
  Like a young wench, hither I brought; my self
  In the habit of an ordinarie Captain
  Disguis'd, got entertainment, and serv'd here
  That I might still be ready to all fortunes:
  That boy your Grace took, nobly entertain'd him,
  But thought a Girle, _Alinda_, Madam.

  _Ol._ Stand away,
  And let me look upon him.

  _Du._ My young Mistris?
  This is a strange metamorphosis, _Alinda_?

  _Al._ Your graces humble servant.

  _Du._ Come hither Sister:
  I dare yet scarce believe mine eyes: how they view one another?
  Dost thou not love this boy well?

  _Oly._ I should lye else,
  Trust me, extreamly lye Sir.

  _Du._ Didst thou never wish _Olympia_,
  It might be thus?

  _Oly._ A thousand times.

  _Du._ Here take him:
  Nay, do not blush: I do not jest; kiss sweetly:
  Boy, ye kiss faintly boy; Heaven give ye comfort;
  Teach him, he'l quickly learn: there's two hearts eas'd now.

  _Ar._ You do me too much honour Sir.

  _Du._ No _Archas_,
  But all I can, I will; can you love me? speak truly.

  _Hon._ Yes Sir, dearly.

  _Du._ Come hither _Viola_, can you love this man?

  _Vio._ I'le do the best I can Sir.

  _Du._ Seal it _Burris_,
  We'l all to Church together instantly:
  And then a vie for boyes; stay, bring _Boroskie_.

        _Enter_ Boroskie.

  I had almost forgot that lump of mischief.
  There _Archas_, take the enemie to honour,
  The knave to worth: do with him what thou wilt.

  _Ar._ Then to my sword again; you to your prayers;
  Wash off your villanies, you feel the burthen.

  _Bor._ Forgive me e're I die, most honest _Archas_;
  'Tis too much honour that I perish thus;
  O strike my faults to kill them, that no memorie,
  No black and blasted infamy hereafter----

  _Ar._ Come, are ye ready?

  _Bor._ Yes.

  _Ar._ And truly penitent, to make your way straight?

  _Bor._ Thus I wash off my sins.

  _Ar._ Stand up, and live then,
  And live an honest man; I scorn mens ruines:
  Take him again, Sir, trie him: and believe
  This thing will be a perfect man.

  _Du._ I take him.

  _Bor._ And when I fail those hopes, heavens hopes fail me.

  _Du._ You are old: no more wars Father:
  _Theodore_ take you the charge, be General.

  _The._ All good bless ye.

  _Du._ And my good Father, you dwell in my bosom,
  From you rise all my good thoughts: when I would think
  And examine time for one that's fairly noble,
  And the same man through all the streights of vertue,
  Upon this Silver book I'le look, and read him.
  Now forward merrily to _Hymens_ rites,
  To joyes, and revels, sports, and he that can
  Most honour _Archas_, is the noblest man.                   [_Exeunt._




Prologue.


  _We need not noble Gentlemen to invite
  Attention, preinstruct you who did write
  This worthy Story, being confident
  The mirth join'd with grave matter, and Intent
  To yield the hearers profit, with delight,
  Will speak the maker: and to do him right,
  Would ask a Genius like to his; the age
  Mourning his loss, and our now widdowed stage
  In vain lamenting. I could adde, so far
  Behind him the most modern writers are,
  That when they would commend him, their best praise
  Ruins the buildings which they strive to raise
  To his best memory, so much a friend
  Presumes to write, secure 'twill not offend
  The living that are modest, with the rest
  That may repine he cares not to contest.
  This debt to_ Fletcher _paid; it is profest
  By us the Actors, we will do our best
  To send such favouring friends, as hither come
  To grace the Scene, pleas'd, and contented home._




Epilogue.

  _Though something well assur'd, few here repent
  Three hours of pretious time, or money spent
  On our endeavours, Yet not to relye
  Too much upon our care, and industrie,
  'Tis fit we should ask, but a modest way
  How you approve our action in the play.
  If you vouchsafe to crown it with applause,
  It is your bountie, and you give us cause
  Hereafter with a general consent
  To study, as becomes us, your content._


       *       *       *       *       *


  p. #47#, l. 9. _Adds_ Finis Actus Tertii.
           l. 11. Servant and R. Bax, and.
           l. 12. A stirs a stirs.
           l. 26. barkes.

  p. #48#, l. 34. and whom.

  p. #49#, l. 26. his fierce.
           l. 29. roome then.
           l. 30. and old.
           l. 33. your rare.
           l. 37. her Ladies.

  p. #50#, l. 12. I must.

  p. #51#, l. 2. has.
           l. 7. 2nd folio _misprints_] Philax.

  p. #52#, l. 1. _Adds as follows_]

              _Clo._ Why that ye wo't of,

              _Chi._ The turne the good turne?

              _Clo._ Any turne the Roche turne;

              _Chi._ That's the right turne for that turnes up the
                     bellie, I cannot, _etc._

           l. 17. as brickle.
           l. 20. That think no.

  p. #55#, l. 7. ath'.
           l. 8. ath' the.
           l. 17. weaker.
           l. 29. a that.
           l. 38. a will.

  p. #56#, l. 26. 2nd folio _misprints_] ne's.
           l. 29. A comes.
           l. 35. stand up my.

  p. #57#, l. 14. rogue.
           l. 21. art ta?
           l. 23. art ta?
           l. 32. thou art a.
           l. 39. doe ye.

  p. #58#, l. 18. Lyons.
           l. 26. _Adds_ Finis Actus Quarti.
           l. 28. Priest.
           l. 30. a your.

  p. #60#, l. 9. cure this.
           l. 10. He's man.
           l. 12. is now.
           l. 16. Oracle, Arras.

  p. #61#, l. 36. therefore, thy.

  p. #62#, l. 3. Therefore be.
           l. 9. I shall.
           l. 19. a had.
           l. 36. 2nd folio] ha'!

  p. #63#, l. 6. A will.
           l. 14. makes he.
           l. 28. Battell.

  p. #64#, l. 2. _Omits_ and.
           l. 7. in boyes in boyes.
           l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] Cle.

  p. #65#, l. 17. _Omits_ her.

  p. #67#, l. 10. 2nd folio _omits_] Chi. (_char._).
           l. 10. Chickens.
           l. 24. weepes.
           l. 26. A was.
           l. 27. Ye have.

  p. #69#, l. 8. and like.
           l. 33. Cleanthe, Curtisan, Lords.

  p. #70#, l. 6. my glorious.
           l. 34. a sight.
           l. 36. ye could. _Adds as next line_]
                        Roome before there. _Knock._

  p. #71#, l. 8. _Prints_ To the, etc., _as a separate line and as
                        a heading_.
           l. 9. _For_ Eum. _reads_ 1. Cap.

  p. #73#, l. 15. lov'st her.
           l. 31. 2nd folio] Sister!

  p. #75#, l. 13. the Saylors sing.
           l. 28. utters.
           l. 32. _Adds_ Finis.


THE LOYAL SUBJECT.

  p. #76#, ll. 3-40. Not in 1st folio.

  p. #78#, l. 14. Archus.
           l. 15. souldier.
           l. 23. Archus.
           l. 37. now you.

  p. #79#, l. 4. 2nd folio _misprints_] Pet.

  p. #80#, l. 24. eyes.

  p. #82#, l. 4. But to.
           l. 31. 2nd folio _misprints_] Augel.

  p. #84#, l. 35. 2nd folio _misprints_] Gentlenem.

  p. #86#, l. 2. pray ye be.
           l. 38. thanke high heaven.

  p. #87#, l. 1. 2nd folio] in'?
           l. 30. _Omits_ Exit.

  p. #90#, l. 4. a pieces.
           l. 30. beseech yee.

  p. #91#, l. 6. marvelous fine.

  p. #92#, l. 8. too late to.
           l. 10. tremble.
           l. 30. _Adds_ Exeunt.

  p. #94#, l. 14. Of every.

  p. #96#, l. 18. 2nd folio _misprints_] may.
           l. 34. and 'has.
           l. 38. And noise.

  p. #97#, l. 23. who, for.
           l. 25. And shewrd.

  p. #103#, l. 35. 2nd folio _misprints_] Lorship.

  p. #106#, l. 16. 2nd folio] feed then.

  p. #107#, l. 18. it fits so.

  p. #112#, l. 8. fishmarket.
            l. 28. paintings.
            l. 32. 2nd folio _misprints_] Aac.

  p. #113#, l. 30. 'has.
            l. 34. blame ye.

  p. #114#, l. 34. 'Has.

  p. #115#, l. 3. ye see.
            l. 28. me Armes.
            l. 38. None, none my Lord.

  p. #116#, l. 1. Thanke ye.
            l. 18. me too far.
            l. 31. he is.

  p. #117#, l. 21. content like harmles.

  p. #118#, l. 17. the fashion to.

  p. #119#, l. 21. ungrased.
            l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] Is.

  p. #120#, l. 34. art not mad.

  p. #123#, l. 37. serv'd yee.

  p. #124#, l. 11. _Omits_ do.
            l. 15. women.
            l. 21. thinke ye.

  p. #125#, l. 1. it; 'sod if.
            l. 24. Wickedly.

  p. #127#, l. 16. yeare.

  p. #128#, l. 9. _Reads stage direction_] Exit.

  p. #130#, l. 6. 2nd folio _misprints_] Bur.
            l. 10. _Omits_ please.

  p. #134#, l. 31. hast ruine.

  p. #136#, l. 31. _The catchword at the foot of the page in the
                        1st folio is_ And.

  p. #138#, l. 37. 2nd folio] Broms.

  p. #139#, l. 1. no trade.
            l. 7. 2nd folio] traeds.

  p. #140#, l. 27. of your.

  p. #141#, l. 37. thats that.
            l. 39. 2nd folio _misprints_] Hoa.

  p. #142#, l. 30. 2nd folio _misprints_] Dou.

  p. #146#, l. 18. tal.

  p. #147#, l. 22. _Omits_ are.

  p. #148#, l. 36. till ye.

  p. #149#, l. 40. _Adds_ Exit.

  p. #150#, l. 8. that told.
            l. 18. 2nd folio _misprints_] guily.

  p. #151#, l. 13. Sword.
            l. 31. and Kits.
            l. 36. well meet.

  p. #153#, l. 15. 'May do.
            l. 25. see these.

  p. #154#, l. 9. beleeve ye.
            l. 22. not we.

  p. #155#, l. 31. Archas yet?

  p. #157#, l. 10. Pray you.
            l. 27. shines.

  p. #162#, l. 29. not slacke.

  p. #167#, l. 22. The boy.

  p. #168#, l. 38. Hymens rights.

  p. #169#, l. 34. _Adds_ Finis.


RULE A WIFE, AND HAVE A WIFE.

The Dramatis Personæ are not given in the quarto of 1640 nor in the 2nd
folio. They are as follows:--Duke of Medina. Juan de Castro, Sanchio,
Alonzo, Michael Perez, Officers. Leon, Altea's brother. Cacafogo, a
userer. Lorenzo. Coachman, etc. Margarita. Altea. Estifania. Clara.
Three old ladies. Old woman. Maids, etc.

Unless where otherwise stated the following variations are from the
quarto of 1640, the title-page of which runs thus:--

  Rule a Wife | And have a Wife. | A comoedy. | Acted by his | Majesties
  Servants. | Written by | John Fletcher | Gent. | Oxford, | Printed by
  Leonard Lichfield | Printer to the University. | Anno 1640.

  p. #170#, l. 30. mouth.

  p. #171#, l. 14. most sublest.
            l. 18. With yee.
            l. 19. them.
            l. 38. _and often elsewhere_] um _for_ 'em.

  p. #172#, l. 2. the picke.

  p. #173#, l. 22. thank ye.

  p. #175#, l. 1. Yes I.
            l. 29. Exit.
            l. 31. mine ayme.

  p. #176#, l. 30. 2nd folio _prints_] calling. | And

  p. #178#, l. 10. a starv'd.
            l. 22. look'st.
            l. 24. 2nd folio _misprints_] hear.

  p. #179#, l. 33. Or any.

  p. #182#, ll. 6, etc. Quarto _frequently prints_ 4. _for_ Altea _here
                        and in similar places_.
            l. 33. doubty.

  p. #183#, l. 2. Has not.
            l. 3. 2nd folio _misprints_] hin.
            l. 5. Has no.
            l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] compaines.

  p. #184#, l. 13. a house.

  p. #185#, l. 2. Altea, the Ladies.
            l. 4. has been.

  p. #187#, l. 26. I finde.

  p. #189#, l. 28. enter'd here.
            l. 39. salute him.

  p. #190#, l. 25. if she.

  p. #194#, ll. 8 and 11. _Omits_ Lady _here and often similarly
                        elsewhere_.

  p. #196#, l. 26. Exit.

  p. #197#, l. 20. basinesse.