 | The Bloody Brother ; or, Rollo |  |
SCENE III.
Enter Servant, and Sewer.Ser.
Perfume the room round, and prepare the table,
Gentlemen officers, wait in your places.
Sew.
Make room there,
Room for the Dukes meat. Gentlemen, be bare there,
Clear all the entrance: Guard, put by those gapers,
And Gentlemen-ushers, see the gallery clear,
The Dukes are coming on.
Hoboys, a banquet.
Enter Sophia, between Rollo, and Otto, Aubry, Latorch, Gispert, Baldwin, Attendants, Hamond, Matilda, Edith.
Ser.
'Tis certainly inform'd.
Ot.
Reward the fellow, and look you mainly to it.
Ser.
My life for yours, Sir.
Soph.
Now am I straight, my Lords, and young again,
My long since blasted hopes shoot out in blossomes,
The fruits of everlasting love appearing;
Oh! my blest boys, the honour of my years,
Of all my cares, the bounteous fair rewarders.
Oh! let me thus imbrace you, thus for ever
Within a Mothers love lock up your friendships:
And my sweet sons, once more with mutual twinings,
As one chaste bed begot you, make one body:
Blessings from heaven in thousand showrs fall on you.
Aub.
Oh! womans goodness never to be equall'd,
May the most sinfull creatures of thy sex
But kneeling at thy monument, rise saints.
Soph.
Sit down my worthy sons; my Lords, your places.
I, now me thinks the table's nobly furnisht;
Now the meat nourishes; the wine gives spirit;
And all the room stuck with a general pleasure,
Shews like the peacefull boughs of happiness.
Aub.
Long may it last, and from a heart fill'd with it
Full as my cup; I give it round, my Lords.
Bald.
And may that stubborn heart be drunk with sorrow
Refuses it; men dying now should take it,
And by the vertue of this ceremony
Shake off their miseries, and sleep in peace.
Rol.
You are sad, my noble Brother.
Ot.
No, indeed, Sir.
Soph.
No sadness my son this day.
Rol.
Pray you eat,
Something is here you have lov'd; taste of this dish,
It will prepare your stomach.
Ot.
Thank you brother: I am not now dispos'd to eat.
Rol.
Or that,
You put us out of heart man, come, these bak't meats
Were ever your best dyet.
Ot.
None, I thank you.
Soph.
Are you well, noble child?
Ot.
Yes, gracious Mother.
Rol.
Give him a cup of wine, then, pledge the health,
Drink it to me, I'le give it to my Mother.
Soph.
Do, my best Child.
Ot.
I must not, my best Mother,
Indeed I dare not: for of late, my body
Has been much weakned by excess of dyet;
The promise of a feaver hanging on me,
And even now ready, if not by abstinence—
Rol.
And will you keep it in this general freedom;
A little health preferr'd before our friendship?
Ot.
I pray you excuse me, Sir.
Rol.
Excuse your self Sir,
Come 'tis your fear, and not your favour Brother,
And you have done me a most worthy kindness
My Royal Mother, and you noble Lords;
Here, for it now concerns me to speak boldly;
What faith can be expected from his vows,
From his dissembling smiles, what fruit of friendship
From all his dull embraces, what blest issue,
When he shall brand me here for base suspicion?
He takes me for a poysoner.
Sop.
Gods defend it son.
Rol.
For a foul knave, a villain, and so fears me.
Ot.
I could say something too.
Sop.
You must not so Sir,
Without your great forgetfulness of vertue;
This is your Brother, and your honour'd Brother.
Rol.
If he please so.
Sop.
One noble Father, with as noble thoughts,
Begot your minds and bodies: one care rockt you,
And one truth to you both was ever sacred;
Now fye my Otto, whither flyes your goodness?
Because the right hand has the power of cutting,
Shall the left presently cry out 'tis maimed?
They are one my child, one power, and one performance,
And joyn'd together thus, one love, one body.
Aub.
I do beseech your grace, take to your thoughts
More certain counsellors than doubts or fears,
435
(If once believ'd) into such foggs and errours
That the bright truth her self can never sever:
Your Brother is a royal Gentleman
Full of himself, honour, and honesty,
And take heed Sir, how nature bent to goodness,
(So streight a Cedar to himself) uprightness
Be wrested from his true use, prove not dangerous.
Rol.
Nay my good Brother knows I am too patient.
Lat.
Why should your grace think him a poysoner?
Has he no more respect to piety?
And but he has by oath ty'd up his fury
Who durst but think that thought?
Aub.
Away thou firebrand.
Lat.
If men of his sort, of his power, and place
The eldest son in honour to this Dukedom.
Bald.
For shame contain thy tongue, thy poysonous togue
That with her burning venome will infect all,
And once more blow a wilde fire through the Dukedom.
Gis.
Latorch, if thou be'st honest, or a man,
Contain thy self.
Aub.
Go to, no more, by Heaven
You'le find y'have plai'd the fool else, not a word more.
Sop.
Prethee sweet son.
Rol.
Let him alone sweet Mother, and my Lords
To make you understand how much I honour
This sacred peace, and next my innocence,
And to avoid all further difference
Discourse may draw on to a way of danger
I quit my place, and take my leave for this night,
Wishing a general joy may dwell among you.
Aub.
Shall we wait on your grace?
Rol.
I dare not break you. Latorch.
[Ex. Rol. and Lat.
Ot.
Oh Mother that your tenderness had eyes,
Discerning eyes, what would this man appear then?
The tale of Synon when he took upon him
To ruine Troy; with what a cloud of cunning
He hid his heart, nothing appearing outwards,
But came like innocence, and dropping pity,
Sighs that would sink a Navie, and had tales
Able to take the ears of Saints, belief too,
And what did all these? blew the fire to Ilium.
His crafty art (but more refin'd by study)
My Brother has put on: oh I could tell you
But for the reverence I bear to nature,
Things that would make your honest blood run backward.
Sop.
You dare tell me?
Ot.
Yes, in your private closet
Where I will presently attend you; rise
I am a little troubled, but 'twill off.
Sop.
Is this the joy I look'd for?
Ot.
All will mend,
Be not disturb'd dear Mother, I'le not fail you.
[Ex. Sop. and Otto.
Bald.
I do not like this.
Aub.
That is still in our powers,
But how to make it so that we may like it.
Bald.
Beyond us ever; Latorch me thought was busie,
That fellow, if not lookt to narrowly, will do a suddain mischief.
Aub.
Hell look to him,
For if there may be a Devil above all, yet
That Rogue will make him; keep you up this night,
And so will I, for much I fear a danger.
Bald.
I will, and in my watches use my prayers.
[Exeunt.
| The Bloody Brother ; or, Rollo | |