Enter to them Aubrey.
Aub. Is this a time to be spent thus by such
As are the principal Ministers of the State?
When they that are the heads, have fill'd the Court
With factions, a weak Woman only left
To stay their bloudy hands? can her weak arms
Alone divert the dangers ready now
To fall upon the Common-wealth, and bury
The honours of it, leaving not the name
Of what it was. Oh Gisbert, the fair tryals,
And frequent proofs which our late master made,
Both of your love and faith, gave him assurance,
To chuse you at his death a Guardian; nay,
A Father to his Sons; and that great trust,
How ill do you discharge! I must be plain,
That, at the best, y'are a sad looker on
Of those bad practices you should prevent.
And where's the use of your Philosophy
In this so needful a time? be not secure;
For, Baldwin, be assur'd, since that the Princes,
When they were young, and apt for any form,
Were given to your instruction, and grave ordering;
'Twill be expected that they should be good,
Or their bad manners will b' imputed yours.
Bald. 'Twas not in one, my Lord, to alter nature.
Gis. Nor can my counsels work on them that will not
Vouchsafe me hearing.
Aub. Do these answers sort,
Or with your place, or persons, or your years?
Can Gisbert being the pillar of the Laws,
See them trod under foot, or forc'd to serve
The Princes unjust ends; and with a frown
Be silenc'd from exclaiming on th' abuse?
Or Baldwin only weep the desp'rate madness
Of his seduced pupills? see their minds,
Which with good Arts he labour'd to build up
Examples of succeeding times, o'return'd
By undermining parasites; no one precept
Leading to any Art, or great, or good,
But is forc'd from their memory, in whose room
Black counsels are receiv'd, and their retirements,
And secret conference producing only
Dev'lish designs, a man would shame to father;
But I talk when I should do, and chide others
For that I now offend in: see't confirm'd,
Now do, or never speak more.
Gis. We are yours.
Enter Rollo, Latorch, Trevile, Grandpree, Otto, Verdon, and Duprete.
Rol. You shall know who I am.
Otto. I do, my equal.
Rol. Thy Prince; give way—were we alone, I'de force thee,
In thy best bloud, to write thy self my subject,
And glad I would receive it.