Hat. Welcome, thrice welcome, our renowned brother.
Loe, at thy feete the Cittizens of Meath,
By us their Agents, do lay downe the keyes,
And[173] by this crownet and sword resign'd
The state Maiestique to your Princely hands,
Discended to you by our brothers death.
Duke. Then with your loves and persons we receive it.— Is then our brother the Archbishop dead?
Hat. Too true, my Lord.
Euph. I am sorry for my Uncle.
Hat. And of a death so publique by reporte.
Al. Devour'd by Rats, in strange and wonderous sort.
Duke. Could not this palace seated in the Rheine,
In midst of the great River, (to the which
No bridge, nor convay, other then by boats
Was to be had,) free him from vermine Rats?
Alf. Against their kind the land Rats took the water
And swomme in little armies to the house;
And, though we drown'd and kild innumerable,
Their numbers were like Hydra's heads increasing;
Ruine bred more untill our brother died.
Duke. The house is execrable; Ile not enter.
Hat. You need not feare, my Lord; the house is free
From all resort of Rats; for at his death,
As if a trumpet sounded a retreat,
They made a kind of murmure and departed.