Rom. Now put on your Spirits. [25]
Du Croy. The ease that you prepare your selfe, my Lord,
In giuing vp the place you hold in Court,
Will proue (I feare) a trouble in the State,
And that no slight one.
Roch. Pray you sir, no more.
Rom. Now sir, lose not this offerd means: their lookes [30]
Fixt on you, with a pittying earnestnesse,
Inuite you to demand their furtherance
To your good purpose.—This such a dulnesse
So foolish and vntimely as—
Du Croy. You know him.
Roch. I doe, and much lament the sudden fall [35]
Of his braue house. It is young Charloyes.
Sonne to the Marshall, from whom he inherits
His fame and vertues onely.
Rom. Ha, they name you.
Du Croye. His father died in prison two daies since.
Roch. Yes, to the shame of this vngrateful State; [40]
That such a Master in the art of warre,
So noble, and so highly meriting,
From this forgetfull Country, should, for want
Of meanes to satisfie his creditors,
The summes he tooke vp for the generall good, [45]
Meet with an end so infamous.
Rom. Dare you euer
Hope for like opportunity?