University of Virginia Library

Actus Secundus.

Scena Prima.

Enter Latorch, and Rollo.
Lato.
Why should this trouble you?

Rol.
It does, and must do till I find ease.

Lato.
Consider then, and quickly;
And like a wise man, take the current with you,
Which once turn'd head, will sink you; blest occasion
Offers her self in thousand safeties to you;
Time standing still to point you out your purpose,
And resolution (the true child of Vertue)
Readie to execute: what dull cold weakness
Has crept into your bosom, whose meer thoughts
Like tempests, plowing up the fayling Forests,
Even with their swing were wont to shake down hazards.
What is't, your Mothers tears?

Rol.
Pray thee be patient.

Lat.
Her hands held up? her prayers, or her curses?
Oh power of paper dropt through by a woman!
Take heed the Souldiers see it not; 'tis miserable,
In Rollo below miserable; take heed your friends,
The sinews of your cause, the strength you stir by,
Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed
Your own repentance (like a passing-bell)
Too late, and too loud, tell the world y'are perisht:
What noble spirit, eager of advancement,
Whose imployment is his plough; what sword whose sharpness
Waits but the arm to wield it; or what hope,
After the world has blown abroad this weakness,
Will move again, or make a wish for Rollo?

Rol.
Are we not friends again by each oath ratified,
Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts?

Lat.
Poor hearts then.

Rol.
Our worthier friends.

Lat.
No friends Sir, to your honour;
Friends to your fall: where is your understanding,
The noble vessel that your full soul sail'd in,
Rib'd round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruin'd,
The tempest of a womans sighs has sunk it.
Friendship, take heed Sir, is a smiling harlot
That when she kisses, kills, a soder'd friendship
Piec'd out with promises; O painted ruine!

Rol.
Latorch, he is my Brother.

Lat.
The more doubted;
For hatred hatcht at home is a tame Tiger,
May sawn and sport, but never leaves his nature;
The jars of Brothers, two such mighty ones,
Is like a small stone thrown into a river,
The breach scarce heard, but view the beaten current,
And you shall see a thousand angry rings
Rise in his face, still swelling and still growing;
So jars circling distrusts, distrusts breed dangers,
And dangers death, the greatest extreme shadow,
Till nothing bound 'em but the shoar their graves;
There is no manly wisedom, nor no safety
In leaning to this league, this piec'd patcht friendship;
This rear'd up reconcilement on a billow,
Which as it tumbles, totters down your fortune;
Is't not your own you reach at? Law and nature
Ushering the way before you; is not he
Born and bequeath'd your subject?

Rol.
Ha.

Lat.
What fool would give a storm leave to disturb his peace,
When he may shut the casement? can that man
Has won so much upon your pity,
And drawn so high, that like an ominous Comet,
He darkens all your light; can this toucht Lyon
(Though now he licks and locks up his fell paws,
Craftily huming, like a catt to cozen you)
But when ambition whets him, and time fits him,
Leap to his prey, and seiz'd once, suck your heart out?
Do you make it conscience?

Rol.
Conscience, Latorch, what's that?

Lat.
A fear they tye up fools in, natures coward,
Palling the blood, and chilling the full spirit
With apprehension of meer clouds and shadows.

Rol.
I know no conscience, nor I fear no shadows.

Lat.
Or if you did, if there were conscience,
If the free soul could suffer such a curb
To the fiery mind, such puddles to put it out;
Must it needs like a rank Vine, run up rudely,
And twine about the top of all our happiness,
Honour and rule, and there sit shaking of us?

Rol.
It shall not, nor it must not; I am satisfied,
And once more am my self again:
My Mothers tears and womanish cold prayers,
Farewel, I have forgot you; if there be conscience,
Let it not come betwixt a crown and me,
Which is my hope of bliss, and I believe it:
Otto, our friendship thus I blow to air,
A bubble for a boy to play withal;
And all the vows my weakness made, like this,
Like this poor heartless rush, I rend in pieces.

Lat.
Now you go right, Sir, now your eyes are open.

Rol.
My Fathers last petition's dead as he is,
And all the promises I clos'd his eyes with,
In the same grave I bury.

Lat.
Now y'are a man, Sir.

Rol.
Otto, thou shewst my winding sheet before me,
Which e're I put it on, like Heavens blest fire
In my descent I'le make it blush in blood;
A Crown, A Crown, Oh sacred Rule, now fire me,
Nor shall the pity of thy youth, false Brother,
Although a thousand Virgins kneel before me,
And every dropping eye a court of mercy,
The same blood with me, nor the reverence
Due to my mothers blest womb that bred us,
Redeem thee from my doubts: thou art a wolf here,
Fed with my fears, and I must cut thee from me:
A Crown, A Crown; Oh sacred Rule, now fire me:
No safety else.

Lat.
But be not too much stir'd, Sir, nor too high
In your execution: swallowing waters
Run deep and silent, till they are satisfied,
And smile in thousand Curles, to guild their craft;
Let your sword sleep, and let my two edg'd wit work,
This happy feast, the full joy of your friendships
Shall be his last.

Rol.
How, my Latorch?

Lat.
Why thus, Sir;
I'le presently go dive into the Officers
That minister at Table: gold and goodness,
With promise upon promise, and time necessary,
I'le pour into them.

Rol.
Canst thou do it neatly?

Lat.
Let me alone, and such a bait it shall be,
Shall take off all suspicion.

Rol.
Go, and prosper.

Lat.
Walk in then, and your smoothest face put on Sir.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter the Master Cook, Butler, Pantler, Yeoman of the Cellar, with a Jack of Beer and a Dish.
Cook.
A hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot day boys,
Give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter:
Body of me, I'm dry still; give me the Jack boy;
This wooden Skiff holds nothing.

Pant.
And faith master, what brave new meats; for here
Will be old eating.

Coo.
Old and young, boy, let 'em all eat, I have it;
I have ballast for their bellies, if they eat a gods name,
Let them have ten tire of teeth a piece, I care not;

But.
But what new rare munition?

Coo.
Pish, a thousand;
I'le make you piggs speak French at table, and a fat swan
Come sailing out of England with a challenge;
I'le make you a dish of calves feet dance the Canaries,
And a consort of cramm'd capons fiddle to 'em;
A calves head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larks
Rise from the dish, and sing all supper time;
'Tis nothing boyes: I have framed a fortification
Out of Rye paste; which is impregnable,
And against that, for two long hours together,
Two dozen of marrow-bones shall play continually:
For fish, I'le make you a standing lake of white broth,
And pikes come ploughing up the plums before them;
Arion, like a Dolphin, playing Lachrymæ,
And brave King Herring with his oyle and onyon
Crown'd with a Limon pill, his way prepar'd
With his strong Guard of Pilchers.

Pant.
I marry Master.

Coo.
All these are nothing: I'le make you a stubble Goose
Turn o'th' toe thrice, do a cross point presently,
And sit down again, and cry come eat me:
These are for mirth. Now Sir, for matter of mourning,
I'le bring you in the Lady Loyn of Veal,
With the long love she bore the Prince of Orenge.

All.
Thou boy, thou.

Coo.
I have a trick for thee too,
And a rare trick, and I have done it for thee.

Yeo.
What's that good master?

Coo.
'Tis a sacrifice.
A full Vine bending, like an Arch, and under
The blown god Bacchus, sitting on a Hogshead,
His Altar Beer: before that, a plump Vintner
Kneeling, and offring incense to his deitie,
Which shall be only this, red Sprats and Pilchers.

But.
This when the Table's drawn, to draw the wine on.

Coo.
Thou hast it right, and then comes thy Song, Butler.

Pant.
This will be admirable.

Yeo.
Oh Sir, most admirable.

Coo.
If you'l have the pasty speak, 'tis in my power,
I have fire enough to work it; come, stand close,
And now rehearse the Song, we may be perfect,
The drinking Song, and say I were the Brothers.
Well have you born your selves; a red Deer Pye, Boyes,
And that no lean one, I bequeath your vertues;
What friends hast thou to day? no citizens?

Pant.
Yes Father, the old Crew.

Coo.
By the mass true wenches:
Sirrah, set by a chine of Beef, and a hot Pasty,
And let the Joll of Sturgeon be corrected:
And do you mark Sir, stalk me to a Pheasant,
And see if you can shoot her in the Sellar.

Pant.
God a mercy Lad, send me thy roaring bottles,
And with such Nectar I will see 'em fill'd,
That all thou speak'st shall be pure Helicon.
Enter Latorch.
Monsieur Latorch? what news with him? Save you.

Lat.
Save you Master, save you Gentlemen,
You are casting for this preparation;
This joyfull supper for the royal Brothers:
I'm glad I have met you fitly, for to your charge
My bountifull brave Butler, I must deliver
A Bevie of young Lasses, that must look on
This nights solemnity, and see the two Dukes,
Or I shall lose my credit; you have Stowage?

But.
For such freight I'le find room, and be your servant.

Coo.
Bring them, they shall not starve here, I'le send 'em victuals
Shall work you a good turn, though't be ten days hence, Sir.

Lat.
God a mercy noble Master.

Coo.
Nay, I'le do't.

Yeo.
And wine they shall not want, let 'em drink like Ducks.

Lat.
What misery it is that minds so royal,
And such most honest bounties, as yours are,
Should be confin'd thus to uncertainties?

But.
I, were the State once setled, then we had places.

Yeo.
Then we could shew our selves, and help our friends, Sir.

Coo.
I, then there were some savour in't, where now
We live between two stools, every hour ready
To tumble on our noses; and for ought we know yet,
For all this Supper, ready to fast the next day.

Lat.
I would fain speak unto you out of pitie,
Out of the love I bear you, out of honesty,
For your own goods; nay, for the general blessing.

Coo.
And we would as fain hear you, pray go forward.

Lat.
Dare you but think to make your selves up certainties
Your places and your credits ten times doubled;
The Princes favour, Rollo's?

But.
A sweet Gentleman.

Yeo.
I, and as bounteous, if he had his right too.

Coo.
By the mass, a Royal Gentleman indeed Boyes,
He'd make the chimneys smoak.

Lat.
He would do't friends,
And you too, if he had his right, true Courtiers;
What could you want then? dare you?

Coo.
Pray you be short Sir.

Lat.
And this my soul upon't, I dare assure you,
If you but dare your parts.

Coo.
Dare not me Monsieur,
For I that fear nor fire nor water, Sir,
Dare do enough, a man would think.

Yeo.
Believ't, Sir;
But make this good upon us you have promis'd,
You shall not find us flinchers.

Lat.
Then I'le be sudden.

Pant.
What may this mean? and whither would be drive us?

Lat.
And first, for what you must do, because all danger
Shall be apparantly ty'd up and muzl'd,
The matter seeming mighty: there's your pardons,

Pant.
Pardon's? Is't come to that? gods defend us.

Lat.
And here's five hundred Crowns in bounteous earnest,
And now behold the matter.

Latorch gives each a paper.
But.
What are these, Sir?

Yeo.
And of what nature? to what use?

Lat.
Imagine.

Coo.
Will they kill Rats? they eat my pyes abominably,
Or work upon a woman cold as Christmas?
I have an old Jade sticks upon my fingers,
May I taste them?

Lat.
Is your will made?
And have you said your prayers? for they'le pay you:
And now to come up to you, for your knowledge,
And for the good you never shall repent you
If you be wise men now.

Coo.
Wise as you will, Sir.

Lat.
These must be put then into the several meats
Young Otto loves, by you into his wine, Sir,
Into his bread by you, by you into his linnen.
Now if you desire, you have found the means
To make you, and if you dare not, you have
Found your ruine; resolve me e're you go.

But.
You'l keep your faith with us.

Lat.
May I no more see light else.

Coo.
Why 'tis done then?

But.
'Tis done.

Pant.
'Tis done which shall be undone.

Lat.
About it then, farewel, y'are all of one mind.

Coo.
All?

All.
All, All.

Lat.
Why then, all happie.

[Exit.
But.
What did we promise him?

Yeo.
Do you ask that now?

But.
I would be glad to know what 'tis.

Pan.
I'le tell you,
It is to be all villains, knaves, and traytors.

Coo.
Fine wholsome titles.

Pan.
But if you dare, go forward.

Coo.
We may be hang'd, drawn, and quarter'd.

Pan.
Very true, Sir.

Coo.

What a goodly swing I shall give the gallows? yet
I think too, this may be done, and yet we may be rewarded,
not with a rope, but with a royal master: and yet we may
be hang'd too.

Yeo.
Say it were done; who is it done for? is it not for Rollo?
And for his right?

Coo.
And yet we may be hang'd too.

But.
Or say he take it, say we be discover'd?
Is not the same man bound still to protect us?
Are we not his?

Yeo.
Sure, he will never fail us.

Coo.
If he do, friends, we shall find that will hold us.
And yet me thinks, this prologue to our purpose,
These crowns should promise more: 'tis easily done,
As easie as a man would roast an egge,
If that be all; for look you, Gentlemen,
Here stand my broths, my finger slips a little,
Down drops a dose, I stir him with my ladle,
And there's a dish for a Duke: Olla Podrida.
Here stands a bak'd meat, he wants a little seasoning,
A foolish mistake; my Spice-box, Gentlemen,
And put in some of this, the matter's ended;
Dredge you a dish of plovers, there's the Art on't.

Yeo.
Or as I fill my wine.

Coo.
'Tis very true, Sir,
Blessing it with your hand, thus quick and neatly first, 'tis past
And done once, 'tis as easie
For him to thank us for it, and reward us.

Pan.
But 'tis a damn'd sin.

Coo.
O, never fear that.
The fire's my play-fellow, and now I am resolv'd, boyes.

But.
Why then, have with you.

Yeo.
The same for me.

Pan.
For me too.

Coo.
And now no more our worships, but our Lordships.

Pan.
Not this year, on my knowledge, I'le unlord you.

[Exeunt.

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,
They strangle nature, and disperse themselves
(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.