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.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Theodore, Putskey, Ancient and Servant.
The. I wonder we hear no news.
Puts. Here's your fathers servant,
He comes in haste too, now we shall know all, Sir.
The. How now?
Ser. I am glad I have met you, Sir; your father
Intreats you presently make haste unto him.
The. What news?
Ser. None of the best, Sir, I am asham'd to tell it,
Pray ask no more.
The. Did not I tell ye, Gentlemen?
Did not I prophesie? he's undone then.
Ser. Not so, Sir, but as near it—
Puts. There's no help now;
The Army's scatter'd all, through discontent,
Not to be rallied up in haste to help this.
Anc. Plague of the Devil; have ye watch'd your seasons?
We shall watch you ere long.
The. Farewel, there's no cure,
We must endure all now: I know what I'll do. [Exeunt Theodore and Servant.
Puts. Nay, there's no striving, they have a hand upon us,
A heavy and a hard one.
Anc. Now I have it,
We have yet some Gentlemen, some Boys of mettle,
(What, are we bob'd thus still, colted, and carted?)
And one mad trick we'll have to shame these Vipers;
Shall I bless 'em?
Puts. Farewel; I have thought my way too. [Exit.
Anc. Were never such rare Cries in Christendome,
As Mosco shall afford: we'll live by fooling
Now fighting's gone, and they shall find and feel it. [Exit.