Wom. So would I Wench,
We should love him better sure: Sir, here's the Princess,
She best can satisfie ye.
Alin. How I love that presence!
O blessed Eyes, how nobly shine your comforts!
Olym. What Gentleman is that?
Wom. We know not, Madam:
He ask'd us for your Grace: and as we guess it,
He is Alinda's Brother.
Olym. Ha! let me mark him:
My grief has almost blinded me: her Brother?
By Venus, he has all her sweetness upon him:
Two silver drops of dew were never liker.
Alin. Gracious Lady—
Olym. That pleasant pipe he has too.
Alin. Being my happiness to pass by this way,
And having as I understand by Letters,
A Sister in your vertuous service, Madam—
Olym. O now my heart, my heart akes.
Alin. All the comfort
My poor youth has, all that my hopes have built me,
I thought it my first duty, my best service,
Here to arrive first, humbly to thank your Grace
For my poor Sister, humbly to thank your Nobleness,
That bounteous Goodness in ye.
Olym. 'Tis he certainly.
Alin. That spring of favour to her; with my life, Madam,
If any such most happy means might meet me,
To shew my thankfulness.
Olym. What have I done, Fool!
Alin. She came a stranger to your Grace, no Courtier;
Nor of that curious breed befits your service,
Yet one I dare assure my Soul, that lov'd ye
Before she saw ye; doted on your Vertues;
Before she knew those fair eyes, long'd to read 'em,
You only had her prayers, you her wishes;
And that one hope to be yours once, preserv'd her.
Olym. I have done wickedly.
Alin. A little Beauty,
Such as a Cottage breeds, she brought along with her;
And yet our Country-eyes esteem'd it much too:
But for her beauteous mind, forget great Lady,
I am her Brother, and let me speak a stranger,
Since she was able to beget a thought, 'twas honest.
The daily study how to fit your services,
Truly to tread that vertuous path you walk in,
So fir'd her honest Soul, we thought her Sainted;
I presume she is still the same: I would fain see her,
For Madam, 'tis no little love I owe her.
Olym. Sir, such a maid there was, I had—
Alin. There was, Madam?
Olym. O my poor Wench: eyes, I will ever curse ye
For your Credulity, Alinda.
Alin. That's her name, Madam.
Olym. Give me a little leave, Sir, to lament her.
Alin. Is she dead, Lady?
Olym. Dead, Sir, to my service.
She is gone, pray ye ask no further.
Alin. I obey Madam:
Gone? now must I lament too: said ye gone Madam?
Olym. Gone, gone for ever.
Alin. That's a cruel saying:
Her honour too?
Olym. Prithee look angry on me,
And if thou ever lovedst her, spit upon me;
Do something like a Brother, like a friend,
And do not only say thou lov'st her—
Al. Ye amaze me.
Oly. I ruin'd her, I wrong'd her, I abus'd her;
Poor innocent soul, I flung her; sweet Alinda,
Thou vertuous maid, my soul now calls thee vertuous.
Why do ye not rail now at me?
Al. For what Lady?
Oly. Call me base treacherous woman.
Al. Heaven defend me.
Oly. Rashly I thought her false, and put her from me,
Rashly, and madly I betrai'd her modesty,
Put her to wander, heaven knows where: nay, more Sir,
Stuck a black brand upon her.
Al. 'Twas not well Lady.
Oly. 'Twas damnable: she loving me so dearly,
Never poor wench lov'd so: Sir believe me,
'Twas the most dutious wench, the best companion,
When I was pleas'd, the happiest, and the gladdest,
The modestest sweet nature dwelt within her:
I saw all this, I knew all this, I lov'd it,
I doated on it too, and yet I kill'd it:
O what have I forsaken? what have I lost?
Al. Madam, I'le take my leave, since she is wandring,
'Tis fit I know no rest.
Oly. Will you go too Sir?
I have not wrong'd you yet, if you dare trust me,
For yet I love Alinda there, I honour her,
I love to look upon those eyes that speak her,
To read that face again, (modesty keep me,)
Alinda, in that shape: but why should you trust me,
'Twas I betray'd your Sister, I undid her;
And believe me, gentle youth, 'tis I weep for her:
Appoint what penance you please: but stay then,
And see me perform it: ask what honour this place
Is able to heap on ye, or what wealth:
If following me will like ye, my care of ye,
Which for your sisters sake, for your own goodness—
Al. Not all the honour earth has, now she's gone Lady,
Not all the favour; yet if I sought preferment,
Under your bounteous Grace I would only take it.
Peace rest upon ye: one sad tear every day
For poor Alindas. sake, 'tis fit ye pay. [Exit.
Oly. A thousand noble youth, and when I sleep,
Even in my silver slumbers still I'le weep. [Exit.
SCENA III.
Enter Duke, and Gentlemen.
Duke. Have ye been with 'em?
Gent. Yes, and't please your Grace,
But no perswasion serves 'em, nor no promise,
They are fearfull angry, and by this time Sir,
Upon their march to the Enemy.
Du. They must be stopt.
Enter Burris.
Gent. I, but what force is able? and what leader—
Du. How now, have you been with Archas?
Bur. Yes, and't please ye,
And told him all: he frets like a chaf'd Lyon,
And calls for his Arms: and all those honest Courtiers
That dare draw Swords.
Du. Is he able to do any thing?
Bur. His mind is well enough; and where his charge is,
Let him be ne're so sore, 'tis a full Army.
Du. Who commands the Rebels?
Bur. The young Colonel,
That makes the old man almost mad: he swears Sir,
He will not spare his Sons head for the Dukedom.
Du. Is the Court in Arms?
Bur. As fast as they can bustle,
Every man mad to goe now: inspir'd strangely,
As if they were to force the Enemy,
I beseech your Grace to give me leave.
Du. Pray go Sir,
And look to the old man well; take up all fairly,
And let no bloud be spilt; take general pardons,
And quench this fury with fair peace.
Bur. I shall Sir,
Or seal it with my service; they are villains:
The Court is up: good Sir, go strengthen 'em,
Your Royal sight will make 'em scorn all dangers;
The General needs no proof.
Duke. Come let's go view 'em. [Exeunt.
SCENA IV.
Enter Theodore, Putskie, Ancient, Souldiers, Drums, and Colours.
The. 'Tis known we are up, and marching: no submission,
No promise of base peace can cure our maladies,
We have suffer'd beyond all repair of honour:
Your valiant old man's whipt; whipt Gentlemen,
Whipt like a slave: that flesh that never trembled,
Nor shrunk one sinew at a thousand charges,
That noble body rib'd in arms, the Enemy
So often shook at, and then shun'd like thunder,
That body's torn with lashes.
Anc. Let's turn head.
Put. Turn nothing Gentlemen, let's march on fairly,
Unless they charge us.
The. Think still of his abuses,
And keep your angers.
Anc. He was whipt like a top,
I never saw a whore so lac'd: Court school-butter?
Is this their diet? I'le dress 'em one running banquet:
What Oracle can alter us? did not we see him?
See him we lov'd?
The. And though we did obey him,
Forc'd by his reverence for that time; is't fit Gentlemen?
My noble friends, is't fit we men, and Souldiers,
Live to endure this, and look on too?
Put. Forward:
They may call back the Sun as soon, stay time,
Prescribe a Law to death, as we endure this.
The. They will make ye all fair promises.
Anc. We care not.
The. Use all their arts upon ye.
Anc. Hang all their arts.
Put. And happily they'l bring him with 'em.
Anc. March apace then,
He is old and cannot overtake us.
Put. Say he doe.
Anc. We'l run away with him: they shall never see him more:
The truth is, we'l hear nothing, stop at nothing,
Consider nothing but our way; believe nothing,
Not though they say their prayers: be content with nothing,
But the knocking out their brains: and last, do nothing
But ban 'em and curse 'em, till we come to kill 'em.
The. Remove then forwards bravely; keep your minds whole,
And the next time we face 'em, shall be fatal. [Exeunt.