 | The Loyal Svbiect |  |
Scæna prima.
Enter Theodor, Putskey, Ancient, and Servant.The.
I wonder we heare no newes.
Put.
Heere'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 ye presently make haste unto him.
The.
What newes?
35
None of the best Sir, I am asham'd to tell it,
Pray aske no more.
The.
Did not I tell ye Gentlemen?
Did not I prophesie? he is undone then.
Ser.
Not so Sir, but as neare it—
Put.
There's no help now;
The Armye's scatter'd all, though discontent,
Not to be rallied up in haste to help this.
Anc.
Plague of the devill; have ye watch'd your seasons?
We shall watch you ere long.
The.
Farewell, there's no cure,
We must endure all now: I know what I'le doe.
Ex. The. & Ser.
Put.
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 boyes of mettle,
(What, are we bob'd thus still, colted, and carted?)
And one mad trick wee'l have to shame these vipers;
Shall I blesse 'em?
Put.
Farwell: I have thought my way too.
Exit.
Anc.
Were never such rare cryes in Christendome,
As Mosco shall affoord: wee'l live by fooling,
Now fightings gone, and they shall find & feele it.
Exit.
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