IV.
Pant. Oh man or beast, or you at least,
That wear or brow or antler,
Prick up your ears, unto the tears
Of me poor Paul the Pantler,
That thus am clipt, because I chipt
The cursed Crust of Treason
With Loyal Knife; Oh doleful strife,
To hang thus without reason.
[Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.]
Enter Aubrey, and Latorch.
Aub. Latorch, I have waited here to speak with you,
And you must hearken; set not forth your leg
Of haste, nor put your face of business on;
An honester affair than this I urge too,
You will not easily think on; and 'twill be
Reward to entertain it; 'tis your fortune
To have our Masters ear above the rest
Of us that follow him, but that no man envies;
For I have well considered, Truth sometimes
May be convey'd in by the same Conduits
That Falshood is; These courses that he takes
Cannot but end in ruine; Empire got
By blood and violence, must so be held;
And how unsafe that is, he first will prove,
That toiling still to remove Enemies
Makes himself more; It is not now a Brother,
A faithful Councellour of estate or two,
That are his danger, they are far dispatch'd;
It is a multitude that begin to fear,
And think what began there must end in them;
For all the fine Oration that was made 'em,
And they are not an easie Monster quell'd.
Princes may pick their suffering Nobles out;
And one by one employ 'em to the block; but when they
once grow formidable to their Clowns, and Coblers, ware
then, guard themselves; if thou durst tell him this, Latorch,
the service would not discredit the good name you hold with
men, besides the profit to your Master, and the publick.
Lat. I conceive not so, Sir:
They are airy fears; and why should I object them unto his fancy?
Wound what is yet sound? your counsels colour not,
With reason of state, where all that's necessary still is just.
The actions of the Prince, while they succeed,
Should be made good, and glorified; not question'd.
Men do but shew their ill affections, that—
Aub. What? speak out.
Lat. Do murmur against their Masters.
Aub. Is this to me?