 | The Loyal Svbiect |  |
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.
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