SCENE IV.
Enter Archas and a Servant.
Ar. 'Tis strange
To me to see the Court, and welcome:
O Royal place, how have I lov'd and serv'd thee?
Who lies on this side, know'st thou?
Ser. The Lord Burris.
Ar. Thou hast nam'd a Gentleman
I stand much bound to:
I think he sent the Casket, Sir?
Ser. The same, Sir.
Ar. An honest minded man, a noble Courtier:
The Duke made perfect choice when he took him.
Go you home, I shall hit the way
Without a guide now.
Ser. You may want something, Sir.
Ar. Only my Horses,
Which after Supper let the Groom wait with:
I'le have no more attendance here.
Ser. Your will, Sir. [Exit.
Enter Theodore.
Theo. You are well met here, Sir.
Ar. How now boy,
How dost thou?
The. I should ask
You that question: how do you, Sir?
How do you feel your self?
Ar. Why well, and lusty.
The. What do you here then?
Ar. Why I am sent for
To Supper with the Duke.
The. Have you no meat at home?
Or do you long to feed as hunted Deer do,
In doubt and fear?
Ar. I have an excellent stomach,
And can I use it better
Than among my friends, Boy?
How do the Wenches?
The. They do well enough, Sir,
They know the worst by this time: pray be rul'd, Sir,
Go home again, and if ye have a Supper,
Eat it in quiet there: this is no place for ye,
Especially at this time,
Take my word for't.
Ar. May be they'll drink hard;
I could have drunk my share, Boy.
Though I am old, I will not out.
The. I hope you will.
Hark in your ear: the Court's
Too quick of hearing.
Ar. Not mean me well?
Thou art abus'd and cozen'd.
Away, away.
The. To that end Sir, I tell ye.
Away, if you love your self.
Ar. Who dare do these things,
That ever heard of honesty?
The. Old Gentleman,
Take a fools counsel.
Ar. 'Tis a fools indeed;
A very fools: thou hast more of
These flams in thee, these musty doubts:
Is't fit the Duke send for me,
And honour me to eat within his presence,
And I, like a tale fellow, play at bo-peep
With his pleasure?
The. Take heed
Of bo-peep with your pate, your pate, Sir,
I speak plain language now.
Ar. If 'twere not here,
Where reverence bids me hold,
I would so swinge thee, thou rude,
Unmanner'd Knave; take from his bounty,
His honour that he gives me, to beget
Sawcy, and sullen fears?
The. You are not mad sure:
By this fair light, I speak
But what is whisper'd,
And whisper'd for a truth.
Ar. A Dog: drunken people,
That in their Pot see visions,
And turn states, mad-men and Children:
Prethee do not follow me;
I tell thee I am angry:
Do not follow me.
The. I am as angry
As you for your heart,
I and as wilful too: go, like a Wood-cock,
And thrust your neck i'th' noose.
Ar. I'le kill thee,
And thou speakst but three words more.
Do not follow me. [Exit.
The. A strange old foolish fellow: I shall hear yet,
And if I do not my part, hiss at me. [Exit.