 | The Loyal Svbiect |  |
Actus primus.
Scæna prima.
Enter Theodor and Putskie.Theodor.
Captaine, your friend's prefer'd, the Princesse has her,
Who, I assure my selfe, will use her nobly;
A prettie sweet one 'tis indeed.
Put.
Well bred Sir,
I doe deliver that upon my credit,
And of an honest stock.
Theod.
It seemes so Captaine,
And no doubt will doe well.
Put.
Thanks to your care sir;
But tell me Noble Colonell, why this habit
Of discontent is put on through the Army?
And why your valiant father, our great Generall,
The hand that taught to strike, the Love that lead all;
Why he, that was the father of the warre,
He that begot, and bred the Souldier,
Why he sits shaking of his Armes, like Autumne,
His Collours folded, and his Drums cas'd up,
The tongue of war for ever ty'd within us?
Theod.
It must be so: Captaine you are a stranger,
But of a small time here a souldier,
Yet that time shewes ye a right good, and great one,
Else I could tell yee houres are strangely alter'd:
The young Duke has too many eyes upon him,
Too many feares 'tis thought too, and to nourish those,
Maintains too many Instruments.
Put.
Turne their hearts,
Or turn their heeles up, heaven: 'Tis strange it should be.
The old Duke lov'd him dearely.
Theod.
He deserv'd it;
And were he not my Father, I durst tell yee,
The memorable hazzards he has run through
Deserv'd of this man too; highly deserv'd too;
Had they been lesse, they had been safe Putskie,
And sooner reach'd regard.
Put.
There you strook sure sir.
The.
Did I never tell thee of a vow he made
Some yeares before the old Duke dyed?
Put.
I have heard yee
Speake often of that vow; but how it was,
Or to what end, I never understood yet?
The.
Ile tell thee then: and then thou wilt finde 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 yong Prince had the ordering,
(To Crowne 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 poorely
So raggedly and loosely, so unsouldier'd,
The good Duke blush'd, and call'd unto my father,
Who then was Generall: Goe Archus speedily,
And chide the Boy, before the souldier finde 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 wilde words broke out thus:
Well Archus, if I live but to command here,
To be but Duke once, I shall then remember,
I shall remember truely, 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: Royall sir,
Since for my faith and fights, your I corne and anger
Onely 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 Armes more
Shall rib this body in, nor sword hang here, sir:
The Conflicts I will doe you service then in,
Shall be repentant prayers. So they parted.
The time is come; and now you know the wonder.
Put.
I finde a feare too, which begins to tell me,
The Duke will have but poore and slight defences
If his hot humour raigne, and not his honour:
How stand yon with him, Sir?
The.
A perdue Captaine,
Full of my fathers danger.
Put.
He has rais'd a young man,
They say a slight young man, I know him not,
For what desert?
The.
Beleeve it, a brave Gentleman,
Worth the Dukes respect, a cleere sweet Gentleman,
And of a noble soule: Come, let's retire us,
And wait upon my father, who within this houre
You will finde an alter'd man.
Put.
I am sorry for't sir.
Exeunt.
Scæne 2.
Enter Olimpia, and two Gentlewomen.Olim.
Is't not a handsome wench?
2. Wom.
She is well enough Madam:
I have seen a better face, and a straiter body,
And yet she is a pretty Gentle-woman..
Olim.
What thinkst thou Petesca?
Petes.
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 certaine Madam,
Nature intended her a right good stomach.
24
She has a good hand.
2 Wom.
'Tis good enough to hold fast.
And strong enough to strangle the neck of a Lute.
Olim.
What thinke ye of her colour?
Petes.
If it be her owne
'Tis good black bloud: right weather-proofe
I warrant it.
2 Wom.
What a strange pace she has got?
Olim.
That's but her breeding.
Petes.
And what a manly body? me thinks she looks
As though she would pitch the Barre, or goe to Buffets.
2 Wom.
Yet her behaviour's utterly against it,
For me thinks she is too bashfull.
Olim.
Is that hurtfull?
2 Wo.
Even equall to too bold: either of 'em Madam
May doe her injurie when time shall serve her.
Ol.
You discourse learnedly, cal in the wench.
Ex. Gent.
What envious fooles are you? Is the rule generall,
That women can speak handsomely of none,
But those they are bred withall?
Petes.
Scarce well of those Madam,
If they believe they may out-shine 'em any way:
Our natures are like oyle, compound us with any thing,
Yet stil we strive to swim o'th' top:
Suppose there were here now,
Now in this court of Mosco, a stranger Princesse,
Of bloud and beauty equall to your excellence,
As many eyes and services stuck on her;
What would you think?
Olim.
I would thinke she might deserve it.
Petes.
Your grace shall give me leave not to believe ye;
I know you are a woman, and so humourd:
Ile tell yee Madam, I could then get more gownes on ye,
More caps & feathers, more scarfs, & more silk stockings,
With rocking you a sleep with nightly railings
Upon that woman, then if I had nine lives
I could weare out: by this hand ye'would scratch her eyes out.
Olim.
Thou art deceiv'd foole;
Enter Gentlewom. and Alinda.
Now let your own eyes mock ye.
Come hither girle: hang me & she be not a handsom one.
Petes.
I feare it will prove indeed so.
Olim.
Did you ever serve yet
In any place of worth?
Alin.
No Royall Lady.
Petes.
Hold up your head; fie.
Olim.
Let her alone, stand from her.
Alin.
It shall be now,
Of all the blessings my poore youth has pray'd for,
The greatest and the happiest to serve you;
And might my promise carrie but that credit
To be believ'd, because I am yet a stranger,
Excellent Lady, when I fall from dutie,
From all the service that my life can lend me,
May ever-lasting miserie then finde me.
Olim.
What think ye now? I doe believe, and thank ye;
And sure I shall not be so farre forgetfull,
To see that honest faith die unrewarded:
What must I call your name?
Alin.
Alinda Madam.
Olim.
Can yee sing?
Al.
A little, when my griefe will give me leave, Lady.
Olim.
VVhat griefe canst thou have wench?
Thou art not in love?
Al.
If I be Madam, 'tis onely with your goodnesse;
For yet I never saw that man I sighed for.
Olim.
Of what yeares are you?
Al.
My mother oft has told me,
That very day and houre this land was blest
With your most happy birth, I first saluted
This worlds faire light: Nature was then so busie,
And all the Graces to adorne your goodnesse,
I stole into the world poore and neglected.
Olim.
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?
Al.
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 morow, sister.
Olim.
A good day to your highnesse.
Duk.
I am come to pray you use no more perswasions
For this old stubborne man: nay to command ye:
His saile is swell'd too full: he is grown too insolent,
Too self-affected, proud: those poore slight services
He has done my father, and my self, has blowne him
To such a pitch, he flyes to stoop our favours.
Olim.
I am sorry sir: I ever thought those services
Both great and noble.
Bur.
However, may it please yee
But to consider 'em a true hearts servants,
Done out of faith to you, and not selfe-fame:
But to consider royall 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 famines;
The fires of heaven, when you have found all temperate,
Death with his thousand doores—
Duk.
I have consider'd;
No more: and that I will have, shall be.
Olim.
For the best,
I hope all still.
Duk.
What handsome wench is that there?
Olim.
My servant, sir.
Du.
Prethee observe her Burris.
Is she not wondrous handsome? speak thy freedome.
Bur.
Shee appeares no lesse to me sir.
Duk.
Of whence is she?
Ol.
Her father I am told is a good gentleman,
But farre off dwelling: her desire to serve me
Brought her to th'Court, & here her friends have left her.
Du.
She may find better friends:
Ye are welcome faire 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:
Good morrow sister.
Exit Duke and Burris.
Ol.
Good morrow to your Grace. How the wench blushes?
How like an Angel now she looks?
1. VVom.
At first jumpe
Jumpe into the Dukes armes? 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 againe, milking her fathers cows
1 Wo.
I feare shee'll milke all the great Courtiers first.
Olim.
This has not made yee proud?
Al.
No certaine, Madam.
Ol.
It was the Duke that kist yee.
25
'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 feare not:
For vertues sake deliver me from doubts, Lady:
'Tis not the name of King, nor all his promises,
His glories, and his greatnesse 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 faile in that faith—
Ol.
I beleeve thee,
Come wipe your eyes; I doe: take you example—
Pets.
I would her eyes were out.
1 Wom.
If the winde stand in this doore,
We shall have but cold custome: some trick or other,
And speedily.
Petes.
Let me alone to think on't,
Ol.
Come, be you neare me still.
Al.
With all my duty.
Exeunt.
Scæne 3.
Enter Archas, Theodor, Putskie, Ancient, and Souldiers, carrying his armour peece-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 warre himselfe 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 oblivionbrood upon 'em
Arch.
There set 'em downe: and glorious war farewell;
Thou childe of honour and ambitious thoughts,
Begot in bloud, and nurs'd with Kingdomes ruines;
Thou golden danger, courted by thy followers
Through fires and famines, for one title from thee,
Prodigall man-kinde spending all his fortunes;
A long farewell I give thee: Noble Armes,
You ribs for mighty mindes, you Iron houses,
Made to defie the thunder-claps of Fortune,
Rust and consuming time must now dwell with yee:
And thou good Sword that knewst the way to conquest,
Upon whose fatall edge despaire and death dwelt,
That when I shooke thee thus, fore-shew'd destruction,
Sleep now from bloud, and grace my Monument:
Farewell 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 Tassell,
Upon the streach, a flock of fearefull 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 ruines,
The ruines our Swords made, the bloudy ruines;
Then flew this Bird of honour bravely, Gentlemen;
But these must be forgotten: so must these too,
And all that tend to Armes, by me for ever.
Take 'em you holy men; my Vow take with 'em,
Never to weare 'em more: Trophies I give 'em,
And sacred Rites of warre to adorne the Temple:
There let 'em hang, to tell the world their master
Is now Devotions souldier, fit for prayer,
Why doe 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, Generall.
Arch.
Youll finde a better,
A greater, and a stronger man to lead yee,
And to a stronger fortune: I am old friends,
Time, and the wars together make me stoop, getlemen,
Stoop to my grave: my minde unfurnish'd too,
Emptie and weak as I am: my poore body,
Able for nothing now but contemplation,
And that will be a taske too to a Souldier:
Yet had they but encourag'd me, or thought well
Of what I have done, I thinke I should have ventur'd
For one knock more, I should have made a shift yet
To have broke one staffe more handsomly, and have dyed
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 houre, 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 dumbe to your abuses.
Ar.
Understand foole,
That voluutary I sit downe.
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 un-noblenesse,
Indeed forgetfulnesse of good—
Ar.
No more,
As thou art mine no more.
The.
Whose doubts and envies—
But the devill will have his due.
Puts.
Good yentle Colonell.
Theo.
And though disgraces, and contempt of honour
Reigne now, the wheele must turne againe.
Ar.
Peace sirrah,
Your tongue's too saucy: doe ye stare upon me?
Downe with that heart, downe suddenly, down with it,
Downe with that disobedience; tye that tongue up.
Theod.
Tongue?
Ar.
Doe not provoke me to forget my vow, sirrah,
And draw that fatall sword againe in anger.
Puts.
For heavens sake, Colonell.
Ar.
Doe not let me doubt
Whose Sonne thou art, because thou canst not suffer:
Doe 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 ye be worthy of it:
Beshrew your heart, you have vext me.
The.
I am sorrie sir.
Arch.
Goe to, no more of this: be true and honest,
I know ye are man enough, mold 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. & Gent.
Puts.
And't please ye sir, the Duke.
Duk.
Now, what's all this?
The meaning of this ceremonious Embleme?
Ar.
Your Grace should first remember—
26
There's his nature.
Duk.
I doe, and shall remember still that injury,
That at the Muster, where it pleas'd your greatnesse
To laugh at my poore souldiership, to skorne it;
And more to make me seem ridiculous,
Took from my hands my charge.
Bur.
O thinke not so Sir.
Du.
And in my Fathers sight.
Ar.
Heaven be my witnesse
I did no more, (and that with modestie,
With love and faith to you) then was my warrant,
And from your Father seal'd: nor durst that rudenesse
And impudence of scorne fall from my haviour,
I ever yet knew duty.
Duke.
We shall teach yee:
I well remember too, upon some words I told ye,
Then at that time, some angrie 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 dismisse ye; take your ease sir.
Ar.
I humbly thanke your Grace; this wasted body,
Beaten and bruis'd with Armes, dry'd up with troubles,
Is good for nothing else but quiet, now sir,
And holy prayers; in which, when I forget
To thanke high heaven for all your bounteous favours,
May that be deafe, and my Petitions perish.
Boros.
What a smooth humble cloak he has cas'd his pride in?
And how he has pull'd his clawes in? ther's no trusting—
Bur.
Speake for the best.
Bor.
Beleeve I shall doe ever.
Du.
To make yee vnderstand we feele 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 fondnesse, and a little fortune,
Which I believe his sword had the least share in.
Theod.
O that I durst but answer now.
Puts.
Good Colonell.
Theod.
My heart wil break else: Royal sir, I know not
What you esteem mens lives, whose hourely labours,
And losse of bloud, consumptions in your service,
Whose bodies are accquainted with more miseries,
And all to keep you safe, then 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 speake to yee,
And dare speak truth, which none of their ambitions,
That be informers to you dare once thinke of;
Yet truth will now but anger yee: I am sorry for't.
And so I take my leave.
Du.
Ev'n when you please Sir.
Ar.
Sirrah, see me no more.
Du.
And so may you too:
You have a house ith' Countrey, keep you there Sir,
And when you have rull'd your self, teach your son manners.
For this time I forgive him.
Ar.
Heaven forgive all:
And to your Grace a happie and long rule here.
And you Lord Generall, may your fights be prosperous.
In all your course, may Fame and Fortune Court you.
Fight for your Countrey, and your Princes safetie;
Boldly, and bravely face your enemie,
And when you strike, strike with that killing vertue,
As if a generall plague had seiz'd before ye;
Danger, and doubt, and labour cast behinde yee,
And then come home an old and noble storie.
Bur.
A little comfort sir.
Du.
As little as may be:
Farewell, you know your limit.
Exit Duke, &c.
Bur.
Alas, brave gentleman.
Ar.
I doe, 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 thanke my honestie, have stood him:
That audits cast: Farewell my honest souldiers,
Give me your hands: Farewell, fare-well good Ancient,
A stout man, and a true, thou art come in sorrow.
Blessings upon your swords, may they ne're faile yee.
You doe but change a man: your fortunes constant;
That by your ancient valours is ty'd fast still:
Be valiant still and good; and when ye fight next,
When flame and furie make but one face of horror,
When the great rest of all your honour's up,
When you would thinke a spell to shake the enemy,
Remember me: my prayers shall be with yee.
So once againe farewell.
Puts.
Let's wait upon yee.
Ar.
No, no, it must not be: I have now left me
A single fortune to my selfe, no more,
Which needs no traine, nor complement: good Captain,
You are an honest and a sober gentleman,
And one I thinke has lov'd me.
Puts.
I am sure on't.
Ar.
Look to my boy he's grown too head-strong for me,
And if they think him fit to carrie Armes still,
His life is theirs: I have a house ith' Countrey,
And when your better houres will give ye liberty
See me: you shall be welcome. Fortune to ye.
Exit.
Anc.
Ile cry no more, that will doe him no good,
And 'twill but make me drie, and I have no money:
Ile fight no more, and that will doe them harme;
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 devill didst possesse the Duke
With these malitious thoughts; mark what I say to thee,
A plague upon thee, that's but the Preamble.
Sold.
O take the pox too:
An.
They'll cure one another:
I must have none but kills, and those kill stinking:
Or look ye, let the single pox possesse them,
Or pox upon pox.
Puts.
That's but ill i'th' Armes sir,
Anc.
Tis worse ith' legs, I would not with it else:
And may those grow to scabs as big as Mole hils,
And twice a day, the devill with a Currie-combe
Scratch 'em, and scrub 'em. I warrent him he has 'em.
Sold.
May he be ever lowzie.
Anc.
That's a pleasure,
The Beggars Leacherie: sometime the Souldiers:
May he be ever lazie, stink where he stands,
And Maggots breed in's braines.
2 Soul.
I marrie sir,
May he fall mad in love with his Grand-mother,
And kissing her, may her teeth drop into his mouth,
27
Put.
Now, what's the matter?
Enter a Post.
Post.
Where's the Duke pray gentlemen?
Put.
Keep on your way, you cannot misse.
Post.
I thanke yee.
Exit.
An.
If he be married, may he dreame hee's Cuckol'd,
And when he wakes, believe, and sweare he saw it:
Sue a divorce, and after finde her honest:
Then in a pleasant Pigsty with his owne garters,
And a fine running knot, ride to the devill.
Put.
If these would doe—
An.
Ile never trust my minde more,
If all these faile.
1 Sould.
What shall we doe now Captaine?
For by this honest hand Ile be torne a pieces,
Unlesse my old Generall goe, or some that love him,
And love us equall too, before I fight more:
I can make a shooe yet, and draw it on too,
If I like the legge well.
Anc.
Fight? 'tis likely.
No, there Will be the sport boyes, when ther's need on's.
They thinke the other Crowne will doe, will carry us,
And the brave golden coat of Captain Cankro
Boroskie: What a noyse his very name carries?
'Tis gun enough to fright a nation,
He need no souldiers: if he doe, for my part,
I promise ye, he's like to seek 'em: so I thinke you thinke too,
And all the Army: No honest brave old Archas,
We cannot so soon leave thy memory,
So soon forget thy goodnesse: he that does,
The scandall, and the scumme of Armes be counted.
Pu.
You much rejoice me now you have hit my meaning:
I durst not presse ye, till I found your spirits.
Continue thus.
Anc.
Ile goe and tell the Duke on't.
Ent. 2. Post.
Put.
No, no, hee'll finde it soone enough, and feare it,
When once occasion comes: Another Packet.
From whence friend come yee?
2 Post.
From the borders sir.
Put.
What newes sir, I beseech yee?
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 boyes; brave newes boyes.
2 Post.
Either we must have present helpe—
Anc.
Still braver.
2 Post.
Where lyes the Duke?
Sold.
Hee's there.
2 Post.
'Save ye gentlemen.
Exit.
Anc.
We are safe enough, I warrant thee:
Now the time's come.
Put.
I now 'tis come indeed, and now stand firm boyes,
And let 'em burne on merrily.
Anc.
This City would make a marvelous fine 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 storme,
When they heare the newes once,
Put.
Here's one has heard it already,
Enter Boroskie and Servant.
Room for the Generall.
Boros.
Say I am falne exceeding sick oth' suddain,
And am not like to live.
Put.
If ye goe on Sir,
For they will kill yee certainly: they look for yee.
Anc.
I see your Lordships bound, take a suppository,
Tis I Sir; a poor cast Flag of yours. The foolish Tartars
They burne and kill, and't like your honour, kill us,
Kill with Guns, with Guns my Lord, with Guns Sir.
What sayes your Lordship to a chick in sorrell sops?
Put.
Go, go thy wayes old true-peny;
Thou hast but one fault, Thou art ev'n too valiant.
Come toth' Army gentlemen, and let's make them acquainted.
Sold.
Away, we are for ye.
Exeunt.
Scæne 4.
Enter Alinda, and two gentlewomen.Al.
Why whither run ye fools, wil ye leave my Lady?
Petes.
The Tartar comes, the Tartar comes.
Al.
Why let him,
I had thought you had feard no men: upon my conscience
You have try'd their strengths already: stay for shame.
Pet.
Shift for thy selfe Alinda.
Exit.
Al.
Beauty blesse ye:
Into what Grooms Feather-bed will yee creep now?
And there mistake the enemy: sweet youths ye are,
And of a constant courage: are you afraid of foyning?
Enter Olimpia.
Olim.
O my good wench, what shall become of us?
The Posts come hourely in, and bring new danger;
The Enemy is past the Volga, and beares hither
With all the bloud and crueltie he carries,
My brother now will find his fault.
Al.
I doubt me.
Somewhat too late to Madam: but pray feare not,
All will be well I hope. Sweet Madam shake not.
Ol.
How cam'st thou by this spirit? our Sex tremble.
Al.
I am not unacquainted with these dangers:
And you shall know my truth; for e're you perish,
A hundred swords shall passe through me: 'tis but dying,
And Madam we must doe it: the manner's all:
You have a Princely Birth, take Princely thoughts to ye,
And take my councell too; goe presently,
With all the haste yee have, (I will attend ye)
With all the possible speed, to old Lord Archas,
He honours yee: with all your art perswade him,
('I will be a dismall time else) wooe him hither,
But hither Madam; make him see the danger;
For your new Generall looks like an Asse;
There's nothing in his face but losse.
Olim.
Ile doe it,
And thank thee sweet Alinda: O my Jewell,
How much I am bound to love thee: by this hand wench
If thou wert a man—
Al.
I would I were to fight for yee.
But haste deare Madam.
Ol.
I need no spurres Alinda.
Exeunt.
Scæn. 5.
Enter Duke, 2. Posts, Attendants, Gent.Duk.
The Lord Generall 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.
Duk.
That's but cold newes.
Enter a Gent.
How now, what good newes? are the souldiers ready?
Ge.
Yes sir, but fight they wil not, nor stir from that place
They stand in now, unlesse they have Lord Archas
To lead 'em out: they raile upon this Generall,
And sing songs of him, scurvy songs, to worse tunes:
And much they spare not you sir: here they sweare
28
Unlesse 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 feare will faile; we must dye gentlemen,
And one stroak wee'll have for't.
Enter Burris.
What bringst thou Burris?
Bur.
That I am loath 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 owne worthes,
The Countries ruine: nay, I kneeld and pray'd him;
He shook his head, let fall a teare, 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 too blame.
Where's the new Generall?
Duk.
He is sick poore man.
Bur.
Hee's a poore man indeed Sir:
Your Grace must needs goe to the souldier.
Duke.
They have sent me word
They will not stirre: they raile at me,
And all the spight they have—
Shout within. Enter Archas, Olimpia, and Alinda.
What shout is that there?
Is the enemy come so neare?
Olim.
I have brought him Sir;
At length I have woo'd him thus farre.
Duke.
Happy sister;
O blessed woman!
Olim.
Use him nobly brother;
You never had more need: And gentlemen,
All the best powers yee have, to tongues turn presently,
To winning and perswading tongues: all my art,
Onely to bring him hither, I have utter'd;
Let it be yours to arme him: And good my Lord,
Though I exceed the limit you allow'd me,
Which was the happinesse to bring ye hither,
And not to urge yee farther: yet, see your Countrey,
Out of your owne sweet spirit now behold it:
Turne round, and look upon the miseries,
Of every side the seares: ô see the dangers;
We finde 'em soonest, therefore heare me first sir.
Duke.
Next heare your Prince;
You have said you lov'd him Archas,
And thought your life too little for his service:
Thinke not your vow to great now, now the time is,
And now you are brought toth'test, touch right now souldier,
Now shew the manly pureness of thy mettle:
Now if thou beest that valued man, that vertuo,
That great obedience teaching all, now stand it.
What I have said forget, my youth was hasty,
And what you said your selfe forgive, you were angry.
If men could live without their faults, they were gods Archas.
He weeps, & holds his hāds 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: hee feeles it,
Let 'em not fester now sir: your owne honour,
The bountie of that minde, and your allegeance,
'Gainst which I take it, heaven gives no command sir,
Nor seales no vow, can better teach ye now
What yee have to doe, then I, or this necessity:
Onely this little's left: would ye doe nobly,
And in the eye of honour truely triumph?
Conquer that minde 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 owne honesty, which is a virgin,
Look up, and pitty 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 sworne for vertues cause, for beauties,
For chastity to strike: strike now, they suffer:
Now draw your sword, or else you are recreant,
Onely a Knight ith' heeles, ith' 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 dulnesse: faire one I thank yee:
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.
Olim.
Give him this wench.
Al.
Thus doe I tye on victory.
Ar.
My Armour,
My horse, my sword, my tough staffe, and my fortune,
And Olin now I come to shake thy glorie.
Duk.
Goe brave and prosperous, our loves go with thee.
Ol.
Full of thy vertue, and our prayers attend thee.
Bur. &c.
Loden with victory, and we to honour thee.
Al.
Come home the son of honour,
And Ile serve ye.
Exeunt.
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