Beaumont Francis
Beaumont & Fletcher's Works (3 of 10): The Loyal Subject

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima

Enter Duke, Burris, and two Gentlemen

 
Duke. No news of Archas yet?
 
 
Bur. But now, and't please ye,
A Post came in, Letters he brought none with him,
But this deliver'd: He saw the Armies join,
The game of Blood begun, and by our General,
Who never was acquainted but with Conquest,
So bravely fought, he saw the Tartars shaken,
And there he said he left 'em.
 
 
Du. Where's Boroskie?
 
 
1 Gent. He's up again, and't please ye.
 
 
Bur. Sir, methinks
This News should make ye lightsome, bring joy to ye,
It strikes our hearts with general Comfort. [Exit Duke.
Gone? What should this mean, so suddenly?
He's well?
 
 
2 Gent. We see no other.
 
 
1 Gent. Would the rest were well too,
That put these starts into him.
 
 
Bur. I'll go after him.
 
 
2 Gent. 'Twill not be fit, Sir: h'as some secret in him
He would not be disturb'd in: know you any thing
Has crost him since the General went?
 
 
Bur. Not any:
If there had been, I am sure I should have found it:
Only I have heard him oft complain for money:
Money he says he wants.
 
 
1 Gent. It may be that then.
 
 
Bur. To him that has so ma[n]y wayes to raise it,
And those so honest, it cannot be.
 

Enter Duke and Boroskie

 
1 Gent. He comes back,
And Lord Boroskie with him.
 
 
Bur. There the game goes,
I fear some new thing hatching.
 
 
Duke. Come hither Burris.
Go see my Sister, and commend me to her,
And to my little Mistriss give this Token;
Tell her I'le see her shortly.
 
 
Bur. Yes, I shall, Sir. [Ex. Bur. and Gent.
 
 
Duke. Wait you without: I would yet try him further.
 
 
Bor. 'Twill not be much amiss: has your Grace heard yet
Of what he has done i'th' Field?
 
 
Duke. A Post but now
Came in, who saw 'em joyn, and has delivered,
The Enemy gave ground before he parted.
 
 
Bor. 'Tis well.
 
 
Duke. Come, speak thy mind man: 'tis not for fighting,
A noise of War, I keep thee in my bosom;
Thy ends are nearer to me; from my Childhood
Thou brought'st me up: and like another nature,
Made good all my necessities: speak boldly.
 
 
Bor. Sir, what I utter, will be thought but envy
Though I intend, high heaven knows, but your honour,
When vain and empty people shall proclaim me —
Good Sir excuse me.
 
 
Duke. Do you fear me for your Enemy?
Speak on your duty.
 
 
Bor. Then I must, and dare, Sir:
When he comes home, take heed the Court receive him not,
Take heed he meet not with their loves and praises,
That Glass will shew him ten times greater, Sir,
(And make him strive to make good that proportion,)
Than ere his fortune bred him, he is honourable,
At least I strive to understand him so,
And of a nature, if not this way poyson'd,
Perfect enough, easie, and sweet, but those are soon seduc'd, Sir;
He's a great man, and what that Pill may work,
Prepar'd by general voices of the people,
Is the end of all my Counsel, only this, Sir,
Let him retire a while, there's more hangs by it
Than you know yet: there if he stand a while well,
But till the Souldier cool, whom, for their service
You must pay now most liberally, most freely,
And showre your self into 'em; 'tis the bounty
They follow with their loves, and not the bravery.
 

Enter two Gent

 
Duke. But where's the Money? how now?
 
 
2 Gent. Sir, the Colonel,
Son to the Lord Archas, with most happy news
Of the Tartars overthrow, without here
Attends your Graces pleasure.
 
 
Bor. Be not seen, Sir,
He's a bold fellow, let me stand his Thunders,
To th' Court he must not come: no blessing here, Sir,
No face of favour, if you love your honour.
 

Enter Theodore

 
Duke. Do what you think is meetest; I'le retire, Sir. [Ex.
 
 
Bor. Conduct him in, Sir – welcome noble Colonel.
 
 
The. That's much from your Lordship: pray where's the Duke?
 
 
Bor. We hear you have beat the Tartar.
 
 
The. Is he busie, Sir?
 
 
Bor. Have ye taken Olin yet?
 
 
The. I would fain speak with him.
 
 
Bor. How many men have ye lost?
 
 
The. Do's he lye this way?
 
 
Bor. I am sure you fought it bravely.
 
 
The. I must see him.
 
 
Bor. You cannot yet, ye must not, what's your Commission?
 
 
The. No Gentleman o'th' Chamber here?
 
 
Bor. Why, pray ye, Sir?
Am not I fit to entertain your business?
 
 
The. I think you are not, Sir; I am sure ye shall not.
I bring no tales, nor flatteries: in my tongue, Sir,
I carry no fork'd stings.
 
 
Bor. You keep your bluntness.
 
 
The. You are deceiv'd: it keeps me: I had felt else
Some of your plagues ere this: but good Sir trifle not,
I have business to the Duke.
 
 
Bor. He's not well, Sir,
And cannot now be spoke withal.
 
 
The. Not well, Sir?
How would he ha' been, if we had lost? not well, Sir?
I bring him news to make him well: his enemy
That would have burnt his City here, and your House too,
Your brave gilt house, my Lord, your honours hangings,
Where all your Ancestors, and all their Battels,
Their silk and golden Battels are decipher'd:
That would not only have abus'd your buildings,
Your goodly buildings, Sir, and have drunk dry your butteries,
Purloin'd your Lordships Plate, the Duke bestow'd on you,
For turning handsomly o'th' toe, and trim'd your Virgins,
Trim'd 'em of a new cut, and't like your Lordship,
'Tis ten to one, your Wife too, and the curse is
You had had no remedy against these Rascals,
No Law, and't like your Honour; would have kill'd you too
And roasted ye, and eaten ye, ere this time:
Notable Knaves my Lord, unruly Rascals:
These youths have we ty'd up, put muzzels on 'em,
And par'd their Nails, that honest civil Gentlemen,
And such most noble persons as your self is,
May live in peace, and rule the land with a twine thread.
These news I bring.
 
 
Bor. And were they thus deliver'd ye?
 
 
The. My Lord, I am no pen-man, nor no Orator,
My tongue was never Oyl'd with Here and't like ye,
There I beseech ye, weigh, I am a Souldier,
And truth I covet only, no fine terms, Sir;
I come not to stand treating here; my business
Is with the Duke, and of such general blessing —
 
 
Bor. You have overthrown the enemy, we know it,
And we rejoyce in't; ye have done like honest Subjects,
You have done handsomely and well.
 
 
Theo. But well, Sir?
But handsomely and well? what are we juglers?
I'le do all that in cutting up a Capon.
But handsomely and well? does your Lordship take us
For the Dukes Tumblers? we have done bravely, Sir,
Ventur'd our lives like men.
 
 
Bor. Then bravely be it.
Theo. And for as brave rewards we look, and graces,
We have sweat and bled for't, Sir.
 
 
Bor. And ye may have it,
If you will stay the giving. Men that thank themselves first
For any good they do, take off the lustre,
And blot the benefit.
 
 
Theo. Are these the welcomes,
The Bells that ring out our rewards? pray heartily,
Early and late, there may be no more Enemies:
Do my good Lord, pray seriously, and sigh too,
For if there be —
 
 
Bor. They must be met, and fought with.
Theo. By whom? by you? they must be met and flatter'd.
Why, what a Devil ail'd ye to do these things?
With what assurance dare ye mock men thus?
You have but single lives, and those I take it
A Sword may find too: why do ye dam the Duke up?
And choak that course of love, that like a River
Should fill our empty veins again with comforts?
But if ye use these knick knacks,
This fast and loose, with faithful men and honest,
You'l be the first will find it.
 

Enter Archas, Souldiers, Putskey, Ancient, and others

 
Boros. You are too untemperate.
 
 
Theo. Better be so, and thief too, than unthankful:
Pray use this old man so, and then we are paid all.
The Duke thanks ye for your service, and the Court thanks ye,
And wonderful desirous they are to see ye;
Pray Heaven we have room enough to march for May-games,
Pageants, and Bone-fires for your welcome home, Sir.
Here your most noble friend the Lord Boroskie,
A Gentleman too tender of your credit,
And ever in the Dukes ear, for your good, Sir,
Crazie and sickly, yet to be your servant,
Has leapt into the open air to meet ye.
 
 
Bor. The best is, your words wound not, you are welcome home, Sir;
Heartily welcome home, and for your service,
The noble overthrow you gave the Enemy,
The Duke salutes ye too with all his thanks, Sir.
 
 
Anc. Sure they will now regard us.
 
 
Puts. There's a reason:
But by the changing of the Colonels countenance,
The rolling of his eyes like angry Billows;
I fear the wind's not down yet, Ancient.
 
 
Anc. Is the Duke well, Sir?
 
 
Boros. Not much unhealthy,
Only a little grudging of an Ague,
Which cannot last: he has heard, which makes him fearful,
And loth as yet to give your worth due welcome,
The sickness hath been somewhat hot i'th' Army,
Which happily may prove more doubt than danger,
And more his fear than fate; yet howsoever,
An honest care —
 
 
Arch. Ye say right, and it shall be;
For though upon my life 'tis but a rumor,
A meer opinion, without faith or fear in't;
For Sir, I thank Heaven, we never stood more healthy,
Never more high and lusty; yet to satisfie,
We cannot be too curious, or too careful
Of what concerns his state, we'll draw away, Sir,
And lodge at further distance, and less danger.
 
 
Boros. It will be well.
 
 
Anc. It will be very scurvy:
I smell it out, it stinks abominably,
Stir it no more.
 
 
Boros. The Duke, Sir, would have you too,
For a short day or two, retire to your own house,
Whither himself will come to visit ye,
And give ye thanks.
 
 
Arch. I shall attend his pleasure.
 
 
Anc. A trick, a lousie trick: so ho, a trick Boys.
 
 
Arch. How now, what's that?
 
 
Anc. I thought I had found a Hare, Sir,
But 'tis a Fox, an old Fox, shall we hunt him?
 
 
Arch. No more such words.
 
 
Boros. The Souldier's grown too sawcy,
You must tie him straiter up.
 
 
Arch. I do my best, Sir;
But men of free-born minds sometimes will flie out.
 
 
Anc. May not we see the Duke?
 
 
Boros. Not at this time, Gentlemen,
Your General knows the cause.
 
 
Anc. We have no Plague, Sir,
Unless it be in our pay, nor no Pox neither;
Or if we had, I hope that good old Courtier
Will not deny us place there.
 
 
Puts. Certain my Lord,
Considering what we are, and what we have done;
If not, what need ye may have, 'twould be better,
A great deal nobler, and taste honester
To use us with more sweetness; men that dig
And lash away their lives at the Carts tail,
Double our comforts; meat, and their Masters thanks too,
When they work well, they have; Men of our quality,
When they do well, and venture for't with valour,
Fight hard, lye hard, feed hard, when they come home, Sir,
And know these are deserving things, things worthy,
Can you then blame 'em if their minds a little
Be stir'd with glory? 'tis a pride becomes 'em,
A little season'd with ambition,
To be respected, reckon'd well, and honour'd
For what they have done: when to come home thus poorly,
And met with such unjointed joy, so looked on,
As if we had done no more but drest a Horse well;
So entertain'd, as if, I thank ye Gentlemen,
Take that to drink, had pow'r to please a Souldier?
Where be the shouts, the Bells rung out, the people?
The Prince himself?
 
 
Arch. Peace: I perceive your eye, Sir,
Is fixt upon this Captain for his freedom,
And happily you find his tongue too forward;
As I am Master of the place I carry,
'Tis fit I think so too; but were I this man,
No stronger tie upon me, than the truth
And tongue to tell it, I should speak as he do's,
And think with modesty enough, such Saints
That daily thrust their loves and lives through hazards,
And fearless for their Countries peace, march hourly
Through all the doors of death, and know the darkest,
Should better be canoniz'd for their service:
What labour would these men neglect, what danger
Where honour is, though seated in a Billow,
Rising as high as Heaven, would not these Souldiers,
Like to so many Sea-gods charge up to it?
Do you see these swords? times Sythe was ne'er so sharp, Sir;
Nor ever at one harvest mow'd such handfuls:
Thoughts ne'er so sudden, nor belief so sure
When they are drawn, and were it not sometimes
I swim upon their angers to allay 'em,
And like a calm depress their fell intentions;
They are so deadly sure, nature would suffer —
And whose are all these glories? why, their Princes,
Their Countries, and their Friends? Alas, of all these,
And all the happy ends they bring, the blessings,
They only share the labours: A little joy then,
And outside of a welcome, at an upshot
Would not have done amiss, Sir; but howsoever
Between me and my duty, no crack, Sir,
Shall dare appear: I hope by my example
No discontent in them: without doubt Gentlemen,
The Duke will both look suddenly and truly
On your deserts: Methinks 'twere good they were paid, Sir.
 
 
Bor. They shall be immediately; I stay for money;
And any favour else —
 
 
Arch. We are all bound to ye;
And so I take my leave, Sir; when the Duke pleases
To make me worthy of his eyes —
 
 
Bor. Which will be suddenly,
I know his good thoughts to ye.
 
 
Arch. With all duty,
And all humility, I shall attend, Sir.
 
 
Bor. Once more you are welcome home: these shall be satisfied.
The. Be sure we be: and handsomly.
 
 
Arch. Wait you on me, Sir.
 
 
The. And honestly: no jugling.
 
 
Arch. Will ye come, Sir? [Exit.
 
 
Bor. Pray do not doubt.
 
 
The. We are no Boys. [Exit.
 

Enter a Gent. and 2 or 3 with Mony

 
Bor. Well Sir.
 
 
Gent. Here's mony from the Duke, and't please your Lordship.
 
 
Bor. 'Tis well.
 
 
Gent. How sowre the Souldiers look?
 
 
Bor. Is't told?
 
 
Gent. Yes, and for every company a double pay,
And the Dukes love to all.
 
 
Anc. That's worth a Ducket.
 
 
Bor. You that be Officers, see it discharg'd then,
Why do not you take it up?
 
 
Anc. 'Tis too heavy:
'Body o'me, I have strain'd mine arm.
 
 
Bor. Do ye scorn it?
 
 
Anc. Has your Lor[d]ship any dice about ye? sit round Gentlemen,
And come on seven for my share.
 
 
Put. Do you think Sir,
This is the end we fight? can this durt draw us
To such a stupid tameness, that our service
Neglected, and look'd lamely on, and skew'd at
With a few honourable words, and this, is righted?
Have not we eyes and ears, to hear and see Sir,
And minds to understand the slights we carry?
I come home old, and full of hurts, men look on me
As if I had got 'em from a whore, and shun me;
I tell my griefs, and fear my wants, I am answer'd,
Alas 'tis pity! pray dine with me on Sunday:
These are the sores we are sick of, the minds maladies,
And can this cure 'em? you should have us'd us nobly,
And for our doing well, as well proclaim'd us
To the worlds eye, have shew'd and sainted us,
Then ye had paid us bravely: then we had shin'd Sir,
Not in this gilded stuff but in our glory:
You may take back your mony.
 
 
Gent. This I fear'd still.
 
 
Bor. Consider better Gentlemen.
 
 
Anc. Thank your Lordship:
And now I'le put on my considering cap:
My Lord, that I am no Courtier, you may guess it
By having no sute to you for this mony:
For though I want, I want not this, nor shall not,
Whilst you want that civility to rank it
With those rights we expected; mony grows Sir,
And men must gather it, all is not put in one purse.
And that I am no Carter, I could never whistle yet:
But that I am a Souldier, and a Gentleman,
And a fine Gentleman, and't like your honour,
And a most pleasant companion: all you that are witty,
Come list to my ditty: come set in boyes,
With your Lordships patience. [Song.
How do you like my Song, my Lord?
 
 
Bor. Even as I like your self, but 'twould be a great deal better,
You would prove a great deal wiser, and take this mony,
In your own phrase I speak now Sir, and 'tis very well
You have learn'd to sing; for since you prove so liberal,
To refuse such means as this, maintain your voice still,
'Twill prove your best friend.
 
 
Anc. 'Tis a singing age Sir,
A merry moon here now: I'le follow it:
Fidling, and fooling now, gains more than fighting.
 
 
Bor. What is't you blench at? what would you ask? speak freely.
 
 
Sol. And so we dare: a triumph for the General,
 
 
Put. And then an honour special to his vertue.
 
 
Anc. That we may be prefer'd that have serv'd for it,
And cram'd up into favour like the worshipful,
At least upon the Cities charge made drunk
For one whole year; we have done 'em ten years service;
That we may enjoy our lechery without grudging,
And mine, or thine be nothing, all things equal,
And catch as catch may, be proclaim'd: that when we borrow,
And have no will to pay again, no Law
Lay hold upon us, nor no Court controule us.
 
 
Bor. Some of these may come to pass; the Duke may do 'em,
And no doubt will: the General will find too,
And so will you, if you but stay with patience: I have no power.
 
 
Put. Nor will: come fellow Souldiers.
 
 
Bor. Pray be not so distrustfull.
 
 
Put. There are waies yet,
And honest waies; we are not brought up Statues.
 
 
Anc. If your Lordship
Have any silk stockings, that have holes i'th' heels,
Or ever an honourable Cassock that wants buttons,
I could have cur'd such maladies: your Lordships custome
And my good Ladies, if the bones want setting
In her old bodies —
 
 
Bor. This is disobedience.
 
 
Anc. Eight pence a day, and hard Eggs.
 
 
Put. Troop off Gentlemen,
Some Coin we have, whilst this lasts, or our credits,
We'l never sell our Generals worth for six-pence.
Ye are beholding to us.
 
 
Anc. Fare ye well Sir,
And buy a pipe with that: do ye see this skarf Sir?
By this hand I'le cry Brooms in't, birchen Brooms Sir,
Before I eat one bit from your benevolence.
Now to our old occupations again.
By your leave Lord. [Exeunt.
 
 
Bor. You will bite when ye are sharper; take up the mony.
This love I must remove, this fondness to him,
This tenderness of heart; I have lost my way else.
There is no sending man, they will not take it,
They are yet too full of pillage,
They'l dance for't ere't be long:
Come, bring it after.
 

Enter Duke

 
Duke. How now, refus'd their mony?
 
 
Bor. Very bravely,
And stand upon such terms 'tis terrible.
 
 
Duke. Where's Archas?
 
 
Bor. He's retir'd Sir, to his house,
According to your pleasure, full of dutie
To outward shew: but what within —
 
 
Duke. Refuse it?
 
 
Bor. Most confidently: 'tis not your revenues
Can feed the[m] Sir, and yet they have found a General
That knows no ebbe of bountie: there they eat Sir,
And loath your invitations.
 
 
Duke. 'Tis not possible,
He's poor as they.
 
 
Bor. You'l find it otherwise.
Pray make your journey thither presently,
And as ye goe I'le open ye a wonder.
Good Sir this morning.
 
 
Duke. Follow me, I'le doe it. [Exeunt.
 

SCENA II

Enter Olympia, Alinda, Burris, and Gentlewomen

 
Olym. But do you think my Brother loves her?
 
 
Bur. Certain Madam,
He speaks much of her, and sometimes with wonder,
Oft wishes she were nobler born.
 
 
Olym. Do you think him honest?
 
 
Bur. Your Grace is nearer to his heart, than I am,
Upon my life I hold him so.
 
 
Olym. 'Tis a poor wench,
I would not have her wrong'd: methinks my Brother —
But I must not give rules to his affections;
Yet if he weigh her worth —
 
 
Bur. You need not fear Madam.
 
 
Olym. I hope I shall not: Lord Burris
I love her well; I know not, there is something
Makes me bestow more than a care upon her:
I do not like that ring from him to her;
I mean to women of her way, such tokens
Rather appear as baits, than royal bounties:
I would not have it so.
 
 
Bur. You will not find it,
Upon my troth I think his most ambition
Is but to let the world know h'as a handsom Mistris:
Will your grace command me any service to him?
 
 
Olym. Remember all my duty.
 
 
Bur. Blessings crown ye:
What's your will Lady?
 
 
Al. Any thing that's honest;
And if you think it fit, so poor a service,
Clad in a ragged vertue, may reach him,
I do beseech your Lordship speak it humbly.
 
 
Bur. Fair one I will: in the best phrase I have too,
And so I kiss your hand. [Exit.
 
 
Al. Your Lordships Servant.
 
 
Olym. Come hither wench, what art thou doing with that Ring?
 
 
Al. I am looking on the posie, Madam.
 
 
Olym. What is't?
 
 
Al. The Jewel's set within.
 
 
Olym. But where the joy wench,
When that invisible Jewel's lost? why dost thou smile so?
What unhappy meaning hast thou?
 
 
Al.. Nothing Madam,
But only thinking what strange spells these Rings have,
And how they work with some.
 
 
Pet. I fear with you too.
 
 
Al. This could not cost above a Crown.
 
 
Pet. 'Twill cost you
The shaving of your crown, if not the washing.
 
 
Olym. But he that sent it, makes the vertue greater;
 
 
Al. I and the vice too Madam: goodness bless me:
How fit 'tis for my finger!
 
 
2 W. No doubt you'l find too
A finger fit for you.
 
 
Al. Sirrah, Petesca,
What wilt thou give me for the good that follows this?
But thou hast Rings enough, thou art provided:
Heigh ho, what must I doe now?
 
 
Pet. You'l be taught that,
The easiest part that e're you learn't, I warrant you.
 
 
Al. Ay me, ay me.
 
 
Pet. You will divide too, shortly,
Your voice comes finely forward.
 
 
Olym. Come hither wanton,
Thou art not surely as thou saist.
 
 
Al. I would not:
But sure there is a witchcraft in this Ring, Lady,
Lord how my heart leaps!
 
 
Pet. 'Twill goe pit a pat shortly.
 
 
Al. And now methinks a thousand of the Dukes shapes.
 
 
2 W. Will no less serve ye?
 
 
Al. In ten thousand smiles.
 
 
Olym. Heaven bless the wench.
 
 
Al. With eyes that will not be deni'd to enter;
And such soft sweet embraces; take it from me,
I am undone else Madam: I'm lost else.
 
 
Olym. What ailes the girle?
 
 
Al. How suddenly I'm alter'd!
And grown my self again! do not you feel it?
 
 
Olym. Wear that, and I'le wear this:
I'le try the strength on't.
 
 
Al. How cold my bloud grows now!
Here's sacred vertue:
When I leave to honour this,
Every hour to pay a kiss,
When each morning I arise,
Or I forget a sacrifice:
When this figure in my faith,
And the pureness that it hath,
I pursue not with my will,
Nearer to arrive at still:
When I lose, or change this Jewel,
Flie me faith, and heaven be cruel.
 
 
Olym. You have half confirm'd me,
Keep but that way sure,
And what this charm can doe, let me endure. [Exeunt.
 

SCENA III

Enter Archas, Theodore, 2 Daughters Honora and Viola

 
Ar. Carry your self discreetly, it concerns me,
The Duke's come in, none of your froward passions,
Nor no distasts to any: Prethee Theodor,
By my life, boy, 'twill ruine me.
 
 
The. I have done Sir,
So there be no foul play he brings along with him.
 
 
Ar. What's that to you?
Let him bring what please him,
And whom, and how.
 
 
The. So they mean well —
 
 
Ar. Is't fit you be a Judge sirrah?
 
 
The. 'Tis fit I feel Sir.
 
 
Ar. Get a banquet ready,
And trim your selves up handsomly.
 
 
The. To what end?
Do you mean to make 'em whores?
Hang up a sign then,
And set 'em out to Livery.
 
 
Ar. Whose son art thou?
The. Yours Sir, I hope: but not of your disgraces.
 
 
Ar. Full twenty thousand men I have commanded,
And all their minds, with this calm'd all their angers;
And shall a boy of mine own breed too, of mine own blood,
One crooked stick —
 
 
The. Pray take your way, and thrive in't,
I'le quit your house; if taint or black dishonour
Light on ye, 'tis your own, I have no share in't.
Yet if it do fall out so, as I fear it,
And partly find it too —
 
 
Ar. Hast thou no reverence?
No dutie in thee?
 
 
The. This shall shew I obey ye:
I dare not stay: I would have shew'd my love too,
And that you ask as duty, with my life Sir,
Had you but thought me worthy of your hazards,
Which heaven preserve ye from, and keep the Duke too:
And there's an end of my wishes, God be with ye. [Exit.
 
 
Ar. Stubborn, yet full of that we all love, honesty.
 

Enter Burris

 
Lord Burris, where's the Duke?
 
 
Bur. In the great chamber Sir,
And there stayes till he see you, ye 'have a fine house here.
 
 
Ar. A poor contented lodge, unfit for his presence,
Yet all the joy it hath.
 
 
Bur. I hope a great one, and for your good, brave Sir.
 
 
Ar. I thank ye Lord:
And now my service to the Duke.
 
 
Bur. I'le wait on ye. [Exeunt.
 

Enter Duke, Boroskey, Gent. and Attendants

 
Duke. May this be credited?
 
 
Bor. Disgrace me else,
And never more with favour look upon me.
 
 
Duke. It seems impossible.
 
 
Bor. It cannot chuse Sir,
Till your own eyes behold it; but that it is so,
And that by this means the too haughtie Souldier
Has been so cramm'd and fed, he cares not for ye;
Believe, or let me perish: Let your eyes
As you observe the house, but where I point it,
Make stay, and take a view, and then you have found it.
 

Enter Archas, Burris, 2 Daughters, and Servant

 
Du. I'le follow your direction: welcome Archas,
You are welcome home brave Lord, we are come to visit ye,
And thank ye for your service.
 
 
Ar. 'Twas so poor Sir,
In true respect of what I owe your Highness,
It merits nothing.
 
 
Du. Are these fair ones yours, Lord?
 
 
Ar. Their Mother made me think so Sir.
 
 
Du. Stand up Ladies:
Beshrew my heart they are fair ones; methinks fitter
The lustre of the Court, than thus live darken'd:
I would see your house Lord Archas, it appears to me
A handsom pile.
 
 
Ar. 'Tis neat but no great structure;
I'le be your Graces guide, give me the keyes there.
 
 
Du. Lead on, we'l follow ye: begin with the Gallery,
I think that's one.
 
 
Arc. 'Tis so, and't please ye, Sir,
The rest above are lodgings all.
 
 
Du. Go on, Sir. [Exeunt.
 

SCENE IV

Enter Theodore, Putskey, and Ancient

 
Puts. The Duke gone thither, do you say?
 
 
The. Yes marry do I,
And all the Ducklings too; but what they'll do there —
 
 
Puts. I hope they'll crown his service.
 
 
The. With a Custard;
This is no weather for rewards: they crown his service?
Rather they go to shave his Crown: I was rated
As if I had been a Dog had worried Sheep, out of doors,
For making but a doubt.
 
 
Puts. They must now grace him.
 
 
The. Mark but the end.
 
 
Anc. I am sure they should reward him, they cannot want him.
 
 
The. They that want honesty, want any thing.
 
 
Puts. The Duke is so noble in his own thoughts.
 
 
The. That I grant ye,
If those might only sway him: but 'tis most certain,
So many new born Flies his light gave life to,
Buzze in his beams, Flesh-flies, and Butterflies,
Hornets, and humming Scarabs, that not one honey Bee
That's loaden with true labour, and brings home
Encrease and Credit, can 'scape rifling,
And what she sucks for sweet, they turn to bitterness.
 
 
Anc. Shall we go see what they do, and talk our mind to 'em?
 
 
Puts. That we have done too much, and to no purpose.
 
 
Anc. Shall we be hang'd for him?
I have a great mind to be hang'd now
For doing some brave thing for him; a worse end will take me,
And for an action of no worth; not honour him?
Upon my Conscience, even the Devil, the very Devil
(Not to belie him) thinks him an honest man,
I am sure he has sent him souls any time these twenty years,
Able to furnish all his Fish-markets.
 
 
The. Leave thy talking,
And come, let's go to dinner and drink to him,
We shall hear more ere supper time: if he be honour'd,
He has deserv'd it well, and we shall fight for't:
If he be ruin'd, so, we know the worst then,
And for my self, I'll meet it.
 
 
Puts. I ne'r fear it. [Exeunt.
 

SCENE V

Enter Duke, Archas, Boroskey, Burris, Gentlemen, and Attendants

 
Du. They are handsome rooms all, well contriv'd and fitted,
Full of convenience, the prospect's excellent.
 
 
Arc. Now will your Grace pass down, and do me but the honour
To taste a Countrey Banquet?
 
 
Du. What room's that?
I would see all now; what conveyance has it?
I see you have kept the best part yet; pray open it.
 
 
Arc. Ha! I misdoubted this: 'tis of no receipt, Sir,
For your eyes most unfit —
 
 
Du. I long to see it,
Because I would judge of the whole piece: some excellent painting,
Or some rare spoils you would keep to entertain me
Another time, I know.
 
 
A[r]c. In troth there is not,
Nor any thing worth your sight; below I have
Some Fountains, and some Ponds.
 
 
Du. I would see this now.
 
 
Ar.Boroskie, thou art a Knave; it contains nothing
But rubbish from the other rooms and unnecessaries:
Will't please you see a strange Clock?
 
 
Du. This or nothing: [Little Trunk ready.
Why should you bar it up thus with defences
Above the rest, unless it contain'd something
More excellent, and curious of keeping?
Open't, for I will see it.
 
 
Arc. The Keys are lost, Sir:
Does your Grace think if it were fit for you,
I could be so unmannerly?
 
 
Du. I will see it, and either shew it —
 
 
Arc. Good Sir —
 
 
Du. Thank ye, Archas,
You shew your love abundantly,
Do I use to entreat thus? force it open.
 
 
Bur. That were inhospitable; you are his Guest, Sir,
And with his greatest joy, to entertain ye.
 
 
Du. Hold thy peace, Fool; will ye open it?
 
 
Arc. Sir, I cannot.
I must not if I could.
 
 
Du. Go, break it open.
 
 
Arc. I must withstand that force: Be not too rash, Gentlemen.
 
 
Du. Unarm him first, then if he be not obstinate
Preserve his life.
 
 
Arc. I thank your Grace, I take it;
And now take you the Keys, go in, and see, Sir;
There feed your eyes with wonder, and thank that Traytor,
That thing that sells his faith for favour. [Exit Duke.
 
 
Bur. Sir, what moves ye?
 
 
Arc. I have kept mine pure: Lord Burris, there's a Judas,
That for a smile will sell ye all: a Gentleman?
The Devil has more truth, and has maintain'd it;
A Whores heart more belief in't.
 

Enter Duke

 
Du. What's all this, Archas?
I cannot blame you to conceal it so,
This most inestimable Treasure.
 
 
Ar. Yours Sir.
 
 
Du. Nor do I wonder now the Souldier sleights me.
 
 
Arc. Be not deceiv'd; he has had no favour here, Sir,
Nor had you known this now, but for that Pick-thank,
The lost man in his faith, he has reveal'd it,
To suck a little honey from ye has betray'd it.
I swear he smiles upon me, and forsworn too,
Thou crackt, uncurrant Lord: I'll tell ye all, Sir:
Your Sire, before his death, knowing your temper,
To be as bounteous as the air, and open,
As flowing as the Sea to all that follow'd ye,
Your great mind fit for War and Glory, thriftily
Like a great Husband to preserve your actions,
Collected all this treasure; to our trusts,
To mine I mean, and to that long-tongu'd Lord's there,
He gave the knowledg and the charge of all this,
Upon his death-Bed too: And on the Sacrament
He swore us thus, never to let this Treasure
Part from our secret keepings, till no hope
Of Subject could relieve ye, all your own wasted,
No help of those that lov'd ye could supply ye,
And then some great exploit a foot; my honesty
I would have kept till I had made this useful;
I shew'd it, and I stood it to the tempest,
And useful to the end 'twas left: I am cozen'd,
And so are you too, if you spend this vainly;
This Worm that crept into ye has abus'd ye,
Abus'd your fathers care, abus'd his Faith too:
Nor can this mass of money make him man more,
A flea'd Dog has more soul, an Ape more honesty;
All mine ye have amongst it, farewel that,
I cannot part with't nobler; my heart's clear,
My Conscience smooth as that, no rub upon't:
But O thy Hell!
 
 
Bor. I seek no Heaven from you, Sir.
 
 
Arc. Thy gnawing Hell, Boroskey, it will find thee:
Would ye heap Coals upon his head has wrong'd ye,
Has ruin'd your estate? give him this money,
Melt it into his mouth.
 
 
Du. What little Trunk's that?
That there o'th' top, that's lockt?
 
 
Bor. You'll find it rich, Sir,
Richer I think than all.
 
 
Arc. You were not covetous,
Nor wont to weave your thoughts with such a courseness;
Pray rack not Honesty.
 
 
Bor. Be sure you see it.
 
 
Du. Bring out the Trunk.
 

Enter with the Trunk

 
Arc. You'll find that treasure too,
All I have left me now.
 
 
Du. What's this, a poor Gown?
And this a piece of Seneca?
 
 
Arc. Yes sure, Sir,
More worth than all your Gold, yet ye have enough on't,
And of a Mine far purer, and more precious;
This sells no friends, nor searches into counsels,
And yet all counsel, and all friends live here, Sir;
Betrays no Faith, yet handles all that's trusty:
Will't please you leave me this?
 
 
Du. With all my heart, Sir.
 
 
Ar. What says your Lordship to't?
 
 
Bor. I dare not rob ye.
 
 
Arc. Poor miserable men, you have rob'd your selves both;
This Gown, and this unvalu'd Treasure, your brave Father,
Found me a Child at School with, in his progress.
Where such a love he took to some few answers,
Unhappy Boyish toys hit in my head then,
That suddenly I made him, thus as I was,
(For here was all the Wealth I brought his Highness)
He carried me to Court, there bred me up,
Bestow'd his favours on me, taught me the Arms first,
With those an honest mind; I serv'd him truly,
And where he gave me trust, I think I fail'd not;
Let the World speak: I humbly thank your Highness,
You have done more, and nobler, eas'd mine age, Sir;
And to this care a fair Quietus given,
Now to my Book again.
 
 
Du. You have your wish, Sir,
Let some bring off the treasure.
 
 
Bor. Some is his, Sir.
 
 
Arc. None, none, a poor unworthy reaper,
The Harvest is his Graces.
 
 
Du. Thank you, Archas.
 
 
Arc. But will not you repent, Lord? when this is gone
Where will your Lordship? —
 
 
Bor. Pray take you no care, Sir.
 
 
Arc. Does your Grace like my House?
 
 
Du. Wondrous well, Archas,
You have made me richly welcome.
 
 
Arc. I did my best, Sir.
Is there any thing else may please your Grace?
 
 
Du. Your Daughters
I had forgot, send them to Court.
 
 
Arc. How's that, Sir?
 
 
Du. I said your Daughters; see it done: I'll have 'em
Attend my Sister, Archas.
 
 
Arc. Thank your Highness.
 
 
Du. And suddenly. [Exit.
 
 
Arc. Through all the ways I dare,
I'll serve your temper, though you try me far. [Exit.