Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Burris, and Gentlemen.
Duke. How does Lord Archas?
Bur. But weak, and't please ye;
Yet all the helps that art can, are applied to him;
His heart's untoucht, and whole yet; and no doubt, Sir,
His mind being sound, his body soon will follow.
Du. O that base Knave that wrong'd him, without leave too;
But I shall find an hour to give him thanks for't;
He's fast, I hope.
Bur. As fast as irons can keep him:
But the most fearful Wretch—
Du. He has a Conscience,
A cruel stinging one I warrant him,
A loaden one: But what news of the Souldier?
I did not like their parting, 'twas too sullen.
Bur. That they keep still, and I fear a worse clap;
They are drawn out of the Town, and stand in counsels,
Hatching unquiet thoughts, and cruel purposes:
I went my self unto 'em, talkt with the Captains,
Whom I found fraught with nothing but loud murmurs,
And desperate curses, sounding these words often
Like Trumpets to their angers: we are ruin'd,
Our services turn'd to disgraces, mischiefs;
Our brave old General, like one had pilfer'd,
Tortur'd, and whipt: the Colonels eyes, like torches,
Blaze every where and fright fair peace.
Gent. Yet worse, Sir;
The news is currant now, they mean to leave ye,
Leave their Allegiance; and under Olins Charge
The bloody Enemy march straight against ye.
Bur. I have heard this too, Sir.
Du. This must be prevented,
And suddenly, and warily.
Bur. 'Tis time, Sir,
But what to minister, or how?
Du. Go in with me,
And there we'll think upon't: such blows as these,
Equal defences ask, else they displease. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Petesca, and Gentlewoman.
Pet. Lord, what a coil has here been with these Souldiers!
They are cruel fellows.
Wom. And yet methought we found 'em
Handsome enough; I'll tell thee true, Petesca,
I lookt for other manner of dealings from 'em,
And had prepar'd my self; but where's my Lady?
Pet. In her old dumps within: monstrous melancholy;
Sure she was mad of this Wench.
Wom. And she had been a man,
She would have been a great deal madder, I am glad she is shifted.
Pet. 'Twas a wicked thing for me to betray her,
And yet I must confess she stood in our lights.
Enter Alinda.
What young thing's this?
Alin. Good morrow beauteous Gentlewomen:
'Pray ye is the Princess stirring yet?
Wom. He has her face.
Pet. Her very tongue, and tone too: her youth upon him.
Alin. I guess ye to be the Princess Women.
Pet. Yes, we are, Sir.
Alin. Pray is there not a Gentlewoman waiting on her Grace,
Ye call Alinda?
Pet. The Devil sure in her shape.
Wom. I have heard her tell my Lady of a Brother,
An only Brother that she had: in travel—
Pet. 'Mass, I remember that: this may be he too:
I would this thing would serve her.
Enter Olympia.