Chapter VIII: Epilogue (5)

_Duke._ Come, for Heavens sake,
And Fortune, and thou be'st not ever turning,
If there be one firm step in all thy reelings,
Now settle it, and save my hopes: away friends. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Antonio _and his Servant_.

_Ant._ With all my Jewels?

_Ser._ All, Sir.

_Ant._ And that mony
I left i'th' trunk?

_Ser._ The Trunk broke, and that gone too.

_Ant._ _Francisco_ of the plot?

_Ser._ Gone with the wench too.

_Ant._ The mighty pox go with 'em: belike they thought
I was no man of this world, and those trifles
Would but disturb my conscience.

_Ser._ Sure they thought, Sir,
You would not live to persecute 'em.

_Ant._ Whore and Fidler,
Why, what a consort have they made! Hen and Bacon!
Well my sweet Mistris, well good Madam mar-tail?
You that have hung about my neck, and lick't me,
I'le try how handsomely your Ladyship
Can hang upon a Gallows, there's your Master-piece;
But hark ye Sirrah, no imagination
Of where they should be?

_Ser._ None, Sir, yet we have search'd
All places we suspected; I believe, Sir,
They have taken towards the Ports.

_Ant._ Get me a conjurer,
One that can raise a water Devil, I'le port 'em;
Play at duck and drake with my mony; take heed Fidler;
I'le dance ye by this hand, your Fidle-stick
I'le grease of a new fashion, for presuming
To meddle with my degamboys: get me a Conjurer,
Enquire me out a man that lets out Devils:
None but my C. Cliffe serve your turn?

_Ser._ I know not--

_Ant._ In every street, _Tom_ fool, any blear-ey'd people
With red heads, and flat noses can perform it;
Thou shalt know 'em by their half Gowns and no Breeches:
Mount my Mare Fidler? ha boy! up at first dash?
Sit sure, I'le clap a nettle, and a smart one,
Shall make your Filly firk: I will fine Fidler,
I'le put you to your plunge, Boy: Sirrah meet me
Some two hours hence at home; in the mean time
Find out a conjurer and know his price,
How he will let his Devils by the day out,
I'le have 'em, and they be above ground. [_Ex._ Ant.

_Ser._ Now bless me,
What a mad man is this! I must do something
To please his humour: such a man I'le ask for,
And tell him where he is: but to come near him,
Or have any thing to do with his don Devils,
I thank my fear, I dare not, nor I will not. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Enter Duke_, Petrucchio, Frederick, John, Peter,
_and Servant with Bottle_.

_Fred._ Whither wilt thou lead us?

[_Pet._] 'Tis hard by, Sir.
And ten to one this wine goes thither.

_Duke._ Forward.

_Petr._ Are they grown so merry?

_Duke._ 'Tis [most] likely,
She has heard of this good fortune, and determines
To wash her sorrows off.

[_Pet._] 'Tis so; that house, Sir,
Is it: out of that window certainly
I saw my old Mistresses face.

_Petr._ They are merry indeed, [_Musick._
Hark I hear Musick too.

_Duke._ Excellent Musick.

_John._ Would I were ev'n among 'em, and alone now;
A pallat for the purpose in a corner,
And good rich Wine within me; what gay sport
Could I make in an hour now!

SONG.

_Welcome sweet liberty, and care farewel,_
_I am mine own,_
_She is twice damn'd, that lives in Hell,_
_When Heaven is shown._
_Budding beauty, blooming years_
_Were made for pleasure, farewel fears,_
_For now I am my self, mine own command,_
_My fortune alwayes in my hand._

_Fred._ Hark a voice too;
Let's not stir yet by any means.

_John._ Was this her own voice?

_Duke._ Yes, sure.

_Fred._ 'Tis a rare one.

_Enter Bawd (above.)_

_Du._ The Song confirms her here too: for if ye mark it,
It spake of liberty, and free enjoying
The happy end of pleasure.

[_Pet._] Look ye there, Sir,
Do ye know that head?

_Fred._ 'Tis my good Landlady,
I find fear has done all this.

_John._ She I swear,
And now do I know by the hanging of her Hood,
She is parcel drunk: shall we go in?

_Duke._ Not yet, Sir.

_Petr._ No, let 'em take their pleasure.

_Duke._ When it is highest, [_Musick._
We'll step in, and amaze 'em: peace, more Musick.

_John._ This Musick murders me: what bloud have I now!

_Fred._ I should know that face. [_Enter_ Fran, _and Exit_.

_John._ By this light 'tis he, _Frederick_,
That bred our first suspicions, the same fellow.

_Fred._ He that we overtook, and overheard too,
Discoursing of _Constantia_.

_John._ Still the same;
Now he slips in.

_Duke._ What's that?

_Fred._ She must be here Sir:
This is the very fellow, I told your Grace

_Enter_ Francisco.

We found upon the way; and what his talk was.

_Petr._ Why, sure I know this fellow; yes, 'tis he,
_Francisco_, _Antonio's_ boy, a rare Musician,
He taught my Sister on the Lute, and is ever
(She loves his voice so well) about her: certain,
Without all doubt she is here: it must be so.

_John._ Here? that's no question: what should our hen
Do here without her? if she be not here (o'th' game else
I am so confident) let your grace believe,
We two are arrant Rascals, and have abus'd ye.

_Fred._ I say so too.

_John._ Why there's the hood again now,
The guard that guides us; I know the fabrick of it,
And know the old tree of that saddle yet, 'twas made of,
A hunting hood, observe it.

_Duke._ Who shall enter?

_Petr._ I'le make one.

_John._ I, another.

_Duke._ But so carry it,
That all her joyes flow not together.

_John._ If we told her,
Your grace would none of her?

_Duke._ By no means Signior,
'Twould turn her wild, stark frantick.

_John._ Or assur'd her--

_Duke._ Nothing of that stern nature: this ye may Sir,
That the conditions of our fear yet stand
On nice and dangerous knittings: or that a little
I seem to doubt the child.

_John._ Would I could draw her
To hate your grace with these things.

_Petr._ Come let's enter. [_Ex._ Petr. _and_ John.
And now he sees me not, I'le search her soundly.

_Duke._ Now luck of all sides. [_Musick._

_Fred._ Doubt it not: more Musick:
Sure she has heard some comfort.

_Duke._ Yes, stand still Sir.

_Fred._ This is the maddest song.

_Duke._ Applyed for certain
To some strange melancholy she is loaden with.

_Fred._ Now all the sport begins--hark!

_Duke._ They are amongst 'em,
The fears now, and the shakings! [_Trampling above._

_Fred._ Our old Lady
(Hark how they run) is even now at this instant
Ready to lose her head-piece by Don John,
Or creeping through a Cat hole. [Petr. _and_ John _within_.

_Petr._ Bring 'em down,
And you Sir, follow me.

_Duke._ He's angry with 'em,
I must not suffer this.

_John, within._ Bowl down the Bawd there
Old _Erra mater_: you Lady leachery,
For the good will I bear to th' game, most tenderly
Shall be lead out, and lash'd.

_Enter_ Petrucchio, John, _Whore_, _and Bawd_,
_with_ Francisco.

_Duke._ Is this _Constantia_?
Why Gentlemen? what do you mean? is this she?

_Whore._ I am _Constantia_ Sir.

_Duke._ A whore ye are Sir.

_Whore._ 'Tis very true: I am a whore indeed Sir.

_Petr._ She will not lye yet, though she steal.

_Whore._ A plain whore,
If you please to imploy me.

_Duke._ And an impudent--

_Whore._ Plain dealing now is impudence.
One, if you will Sir, can shew ye as much sport
In one half hour, and with as much variety,
As a far wiser woman can in half a year:
For there my way lies.

_Duke._ Is she not drunk too?

_Whore._ A little guilded o're Sir,
Old sack, old sack boys.

_Petr._ This is _saliant_.

_John._ A brave bold quean.

_Duke._ Is this your certainty?
Do ye know the man ye wrong thus, Gentlemen?
Is this the woman meant?

_Fred._ No.

_Duke._ That your Land-lady?

_John._ I know not what to say.

_Duke._ Am I a person
To be your sport, Gentlemen?

_John._ I do believe now certain
I am a knave; but how, or when--

_Duke._ What are you?

_Petr._ Bawd to this piece of pye meat.

_Bawd._ A poor Gentlewoman
That lyes in Town, about Law business,
And't like your worships.

_Petr._ You shall have Law, believe it.

_Bawd._ I'le shew your Mastership my case.

_Petr._ By no means,
I had rather see a Custard.

_Bawd._ My dead Husband
Left it even thus Sir.

_John._ Bless mine eyes from blasting,
I was never so frighted with a case.

_Bawd._ And so Sir--

_Petr._ Enough, put up good velvet head.

_Duke._ What are you two now,
By your own free confessions?

_Fred._ What you shall think us,
Though to my self I am certain, and my life
Shall make that good and perfect, or fall with it.

_John._ We are sure of nothing, _Fred_, that's the truth on't:
I do not think my name's _Don John_, nor dare not
Believe any thing that concerns me, but my debts,
Nor those in way of payment: things are so carried,
What to entreat your grace, or how to tell ye
We are, or we are not, is past my cunning,
But I would fain imagine we are honest,
And o' my conscience, I should fight in't--

_Duke._ Thus then,
For we may be all abus'd.

_Petr._ 'Tis possible,
For how should this concern them?

_Duke._ Here let's part--
Until to morrow this time: we to our way,
To make this doubt out, and you to your way;
Pawning our honours then to meet again,
When if she be not found.

_Fred._ We stand engaged
To answer any worthy way we are call'd to.

_Duke._ We ask no more.

_Whore._ Ye have done with us then?

_Petr._ No, Dame.

_Duke._ But is her name _Constantia_?

_Petr._ Yes a moveable
Belonging to a friend of mine: come out Fidler,
What say you to this Lady? be not fearfull.

_Fra._ Saving the reverence of my Masters pleasure,
I say she is a whore, and that she has robb'd him,
Hoping his hurts would kill him.

_Whore._ Who provok't me?
Nay Sirrah squeak, I'le see your treble strings
Ty'd up too; if I hang, I'le spoil your piping,
Your sweet face shall not save ye.

_Petr._ Thou damn'd impudence,
And thou dry'd Devil; where's the officer?

[_Pet._] He's here Sir.

_Enter Officer._

_Petr._ Lodge these safe, till I send for 'em;
Let none come to 'em, nor no noise be heard
Of where they are, or why: away.

_John._ By this hand
A handsom whore: Now will I be arrested,
And brought home to this officers: a stout whore,
I love such stirring ware: pox o' this business,
A man must hunt out morsels for another,
And starve himself: a quick-ey'd whore, that's wild-fire,
And makes the bloud dance through the veins like billows.
I will reprieve this whore.

_Duke._ Well, good luck with ye.

_Fred._ As much attend your grace.

_Petr._ To morrow certain--

_John._ If we out-live this night Sir.

_Fred._ Come _Don John_,
We have something now to do.

_John._ I am sure I would have.

_Fred._ If she be not found, we must fight.

_John._ I am glad on't,
I have not fought a great while.

_Fred._ If we dye--

_Jo._ There's so much mony sav'd in lecherie. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Duke, Petrucchio, _below, and_ Vecchio, _above_.

_Duke._ It should be hereabouts.

_Petr._ Your grace is right,
This is the house, I know it.

_Vec._ Grace?

_Duke._ 'Tis further
By the description we received.

_Petr._ Good my Lord the Duke,
Believe me, for I know it certainly,
This is the very house.

_Vec._ My Lord the Duke?

_Duke._ Pray Heaven this man prove right now.

_Petr._ Believe it, he's a most sufficient Scholar,
And can do rare tricks this way; for a figure,
Or raising an appearance, whole Christendom
Has not a better; I have heard strange wonders of him.

_Duke._ But can he shew us where she is?

_Petr._ Most certain,
And for what cause too she departed.

_Duke._ Knock then,
For I am great with expectation,
Till this man satisfie me: I fear the _Spaniards_,
Yet they appear brave fellows: can he tell us?

_Petr._ With a wet finger, whether they be false.

_Duke._ Away then.

_Petr._ Who's within here?

_Enter_ Vecchio.

_Vec._ Your grace may enter.

_Duke._ How can he know me?

_Petr._ He knows all.

_Vec._ And you Sir. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter Don_ John, _and_ Frederick.

_John._ What do you call his name?

_Fred._ Why, _Peter Vecchio_.

_John._ They say he can raise Devils,
Can he make 'em
Tell truth too, when he has rais'd 'em? for believe it,
These Devils are the lyingst Rascals.

_Fred._ He can compel 'em.

_John._ With what? can he
Tye squibs in their tails, and fire the truth out?
Or make 'em eat a bawling Puritan,
Whose sanctified zeal shall rumble like an Earth-quake?

_Fred._ With Spells man.

_John._ I with spoons as soon, dost thou think
The Devil such an Asse as people make him?
Such a poor coxcomb? such a penny foot-post?
Compel'd with cross and pile to run of errands?
With _Asteroth_, and _Behemoth_, and _Belfagor_?
Why should he shake at sounds, that lives in a smiths forge?
Or if he do--

_Fred._ Without all doubt he do's _John_.

_John._ Why should not Bilbo raise him, or a pair of bullyons,
They go as big as any? or an unshod Car,
When he goes tumble, tumble o're the stones,
Like _Anacreons_ drunken verses, [make us tremble?]
These make as fell a noise; me thinks the colick
Well handled, and fed with small beer--

_Fred._ 'Tis the vertue--

_John._ The vertue? nay, and goodness fetch him up once,
H'as lost a friend of me; the wise old Gentleman
Knows when, and how; I'le lay this hand to two pence,
Let all the Conjurers in Christendom,
With all their spells, and vertues call upon him,
And I but think upon a wench, and follow it,
He shall be sooner mine than theirs; where's vertue?

_Fred._ Thou art the most sufficient, (I'le say for thee)
Not to believe a thing--

_John._ O Sir, slow credit
Is the best child of knowl[e]dge; I'le go with ye,
And if he can do any thing, I'le think
As you would have me.

_Fred._ Let's enquire along,
For certain we are not far off.

_John._ Nor much nearer. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Duke, Petrucchio, _and_ Vecchio.

_Vec._ You lost her yester-night.

_Pet._ How think you Sir?

_Duke._ Is your name _Vecchio_?

_Vec._ Yes Sir.

_Du._ And you can shew me
These things you promise.

_Vec._ Your graces word bound to me,
No hand of Law shall seize me.

_Duke._ As I live Sir--

_Petr._ And as I live, that can do something too Sir.

_Vec._ I take your promises: stay here a little,
Till I prepare some Ceremonies, and I'le satisfie ye.
The Ladies name's _Constantia_?

_Petr._ Yes.

_Vec._ I come straight. [_Exit_ Vec.

_Duke._ Sure he's a learned man.

_Petr._ The most now living;
Did your grace mark when we told all these circumstances,
How ever and anon he bolted from us
To use his studies help?

_Duke._ Now I think rather
To talk with some familiar.

_Petr._ Not unlikely,
For sure he has 'em subject.

_Duke._ How could he else
Tell when she went, and who went with her?

_Petr._ True.

_Du._ Or hit upon mine honour: or assure me
The Lady lov'd me dearly?

_Enter_ Vecchio, _in his habiliments_.

_Petr._ 'Twas so.

_Vec._ Now,
I do beseech your grace sit down, and you Sir;
Nay pray sit close like Brothers.

_Petr._ A rare fellow.

_Vec._ And what ye see, stir not at, nor use a word,
Until I ask ye; for what shall appear
Is but weak apparition and thin air,
Not to be held, nor spoken to. [_Knocking within._

[John, Frederick, _and a Servant within_.

_Duke._ We are counsell'd--

_Vec._ What noise is that without there?

_Fred._ _within._ We must speak with him.

_Serv._ _within._ He's busie, Gentlemen.

_John within._ That's all one friend,
We must and will speak with him.

_Duke._ Let 'em in, Sir,
We know their tongues and business, 'tis our own,
And in this very cause that we now come for,
They also come to be instructed.

_Vec._ Let 'em in then:
Sit down, I know your meaning.

_Enter_ Frederick, John, _and Servant_.

_Fred._ The Duke before us?
Now we shall sure know something.

_Vec._ Not a question,
But make your Eyes your Tongues--

_John._ This is a strange Jugler,
Neither indent before-hand for his payment,
Nor know the Breadth of the business; sure his Devil
Comes out of _Lapland_, where they sell men Winds
For dead drink, and old Doublets.

_Fred._ Peace, he conjures.

_John._ Let him, he cannot raise my Devil.

_Fred._ Prithee Peace.

_Vec._ _Appear, appear,_
_And you soft Winds so clear,_
_That dance upon the leaves, and make them sing_
_Gentle Love-lays to the Spring,_
_Gilding all the Vales below,_
_With your Verdure as ye blow,_
_Raise these forms from under ground_
_With a soft and happy sound._ [Soft Musick.

_John._ This is an honest Conjurer, and a pretty Poet;
I like his words well, there's no bumbast in 'em,
But do you think now he can cudgel up the Devil
With this short Staff of Verses?

_Fred._ Peace, the Spirits-- [_2 shapes of women passing by._

_John._ Nay, and they be no worse--

_Vec._ Do ye know these faces?

_Duke._ No.

_Vec._ Sit still upon your lives then, and mark what follows;
Away, away.

_John._ These Devils do not paint sure?
Have they no sweeter shapes in Hell?

_Fred._ Hark now, _John_. [Constantia _passes by_.

_John._ I, marry, this moves something like, this Devil
Carries some metal in her gate.

_Vec._ I find ye,
You would see her face unvail'd?

_Duke._ Yes.

_Vec._ Be uncovered.

_Duke._ O Heaven!

_Vec._ Peace.

_Pet._ See how she blushes.

_John._ _Frederick_,
This Devil for my mony; this is she, Boy,
Why dost thou shake? I burn.

_Vec._ Sit still, and silent.

_Duke._ She looks back at me, now she smiles, Sir.

_Vec._ Silence.

_Duke._ I must rise, or I burst. [_Exit_ Constantia.

_Vec._ Ye see what follows--

_Duke._ O gentle Sir, this shape agen.

_Vec._ I cannot.
'Tis all disso[l]v'd again; this was the Figure?

_Duke._ The very same, Sir.
No hope once more to see it?

_Vec._ You might have kept it longer, had ye spar'd it,
Now 'tis impossible.

_Du._ No means to find it?

_Vec._ Yes, that there is, sit still a while, there's Wine
To thaw the wonder from your hearts; drink well, Sir.

[_Exit_ Vecchio.

_John._ This Conjurer is a right good fellow too,
A Lad of mettle; two such Devils more
Would make me a Conjurer; what wine is it?

_Fred._ Hollock.

_John._ The Devil's in it then; look how it dances.
Well, if I be--

_Pet._ We are all before ye,
That's your best comfort, Sir.

_John._ By th' Mass, brave Wine;
Nay, and the Devils live in this Hell, I dare venture
Within these two months yet to be delivered
Of a large Legion of 'em.

_Enter_ Vecchio.

_Du._ Here he comes,
Silence of all sides, Gentlemen.

_Vec._ Good your Grace,
Observe a stricter temper, and you too, Gallants,
You'll be deluded all else. This merry Devil
That next appears, for such a one you'll find it,
Must be call'd up by a strange incantation,
A Song, and I must sing it: 'pray bear with me,
And pardon my rude Pipe; for yet, ere parting
Twenty to one I please ye.

_Du._ We are arm'd, Sir.

_Pet._ Nor shall you see us more transgress.

_Fred._ What think'st thou
Now, _John_?

_John._ Why, now do I think, _Frederick_,
(And if I think amiss Heaven pardon me)
This honest Conjurer, with some four or five
Of his good fellow Devils, and my self,
Shall be yet drunk ere midnight.

SONG.

_Come away, thou Lady gay,_
_Hoist; how she stumbles!_
_Hark how she mumbles._
_Dame_ Gillian. _Answer. I come, I come._
_By old Claret I enlarge thee,_
_By Canary thus I charge thee,_
_By_ Britain, _Mathewglin, and Peeter,_
_Appear and answer me in meeter._
_Why when?_
_Why_ Gill?
_Why when?_
_Answer. You'll tarry till I am ready._
_Once again I conjure thee,_
_By the Pose in thy Nose,_
_And the Gout in thy Toes;_
_By thine old dryed Skin,_
_And the Mummie within;_
_By thy little, little Ruff,_
_And thy Hood that's made of Stuff;_
_By thy Bottle at thy Breech,_
_And thine old salt Itch;_
_By the Stakes, and the Stones,_
_That have worn out thy Bones._
_Appear._
_Appear._
_Appear._
_Answer. Oh I am here._

_Fred._ Peace, he conjures.

_John._ Why, this is the Song, _Frederick_; twenty pound now,
To see but our _Don Gillian_.

_Enter Land-lady and the Child._

_Fred._ Peace, it appears.

_John._ I cannot peace; Devils in French hoods, _Frederick_?
Satans old Syringes?

_Duke._ What's this?

_Vec._ Peace.

_John._ She, Boy.

_Fred._ What dost thou mean?

_John._ She, Boy, I say.

_Fred._ Ha?

_John._ She Boy,
The very Child too, _Frederick_.

_Fred._ She laughs on us
Aloud, _John_, has the Devil these affections?
I do believe 'tis she, indeed.

_Vec._ Stand still.

_John._ I will not;
Who calls _Jeronimo_ from his naked Bed?
Sweet Lady, was it you? if thou beest the Devil,
First, having crost my self, to keep out wildfire,
Then said some special Prayers to defend me
Against thy most unhallowed Hood, have at thee.

_Land._ Hold, Sir, I am no Devil.

_John._ That's all one.

_Land._ I am your very Landlady.

_John._ I defie thee;
Thus as St. _Dunstan_ blew the Devil's Nose
With a pair of tongs, even so, Right Worshipful--

_Land._ Sweet Son, I am old _Gillian_.

_Duke._ This is no Spirit.

_John._ Art thou old _Gillian_, flesh and bone?

_Land._ I am, Son.

_Vec._ Sit still, Sir, now I'll shew you all. [_Ex._ Vec.

_John._ Where's thy Bottle?

_Land._ Here, I beseech ye, Son--

_John._ For I know the Devil
Cannot assume that shape.

_Fred._ 'Tis she, _John_, certain--

_John._ A hogs pox o' your mouldy chaps, what makes you
Tumbling and juggling here?

_Land._ I am quit now, Seignior,
For all the pranks you plaid, and railings at me,
For to tell true, out of a trick I put
Upon your high behaviours, which was a lie,
But then it serv'd my turn, I drew the Lady
Unto my Kinsman's here, only to torture
Your _Don_-ships for a day or two; and secure her
Out of all thoughts of danger; here she comes now.

_Enter_ Vecchio, _and_ Constantia.

_Duke._ May I yet speak?

_Vec._ Yes, and embrace her too,
For one that loves you dearer--

_Duke._ O my Sweetest.

_Pet._ Blush not, I will not chide ye.

_Const._ To add more
Unto the joy I know, I bring ye, see Sir,
The happy fruit of all our Vows!

_Duke._ Heavens Blessing
Be round about thee ever.

_John._ Pray bless me to[o],
For if your Grace be well instructed this way,
You'll find the keeping half the getting.

_Duke._ How, Sir?

_John._ I'll tell you that anon.

_Const._ 'Tis true, this Gentleman
Has done a charity worthy your favour,
And let him have it, dear Sir.

_Duke._ My best Lady
He has, and ever shall have: so must you, Sir,
To whom I am equal bound as to my being.

_Fred._ Your Graces humble servant--

_Du._ Why kneel you, Sir?

_Vec._ For pardon for my boldness: yet 'twas harmless,
And all the art I have, Sir; those your Grace saw,
Which you thought spirits, were my Neighbours Children
Whom I instruct in Grammar here, and Musick;
Their shapes, the Peoples fond opinions,
Believing I can conjure, and oft repairing
To know of things stoln from 'em, I keep about me,
And always have in readiness, by conjecture
Out of their own confessions, I oft tell 'em
Things that by chance have fallen out so; which way
(Having the persons here, I knew you sought for)
I wrought upon your Grace; my end is mirth,
And pleasing, if I can, all parties.

_Duke._ I believe it,
For you have pleas'd me truly: so well pleas'd me,
That when I shall forget it--

_Pet._ Here's old _Antonio_,
I spy'd him at a window, coming mainly
I know about his Whore, the man you light on,
As you discovered unto me; good your Grace,
Let's stand by all, 'twill be a mirth above all,
To observe his pelting fury.

_Vec._ About a wench, Sir?

_Pet._ A young whore that has rob'd him.

_Vec._ But do you know, Sir,
Where she is?

_Pet._ Yes, and will make that perfect--

_Vec._ I am instructed well then.

_John._ If he come
To have a Devil shew'd him, by all means
Let me be he, I can roar rarely.

_Pet._ Be so,
But take heed to his anger.

_Vec._ Slip in quickly,
There you shall find suits of all sorts: when I call
Be ready and come forward. [_Exeunt all but_ Vecchio.
Who's there comes in?

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant._ Are you the Conjurer?

_Vec._ Sir, I can do a little
That way, if you please to employ me.

_Ant._ Presently, shew me a Devil that can tell--

_Vec._ Where your wench is.

_Ant._ You are i'th' right; as also where the Fidler
That was consenting to her.

_Vec._ Sit ye there, Sir,
Ye shall know presently: can ye pray heartily?

_Ant._ Why, is your Devil so furious?

_Vec._ I must shew ye
A form may chance affright ye.

_Ant._ He must fart fire then:
Take you no care for me.

_Vec._ Ascend, _Asterth_,

_Enter Don_ John _like a Spirit_.

Why, when, appear I say--Now question him.

_Ant._ Where is my whore, _Don_ Devil?

_John._ Gone to _China_,
To be the great _Chams_ Mistress.

_Ant._ That's a lye, Devil,
Where are my jewels?

_John._ Pawn'd for Petticoats.

_Ant._ That may be: where's the Fidler?

_John._ Condemn'd to th' Gallows
For robbing of a Mill.

_Ant._ The lyingst Devil
That e'r I dealt withal, and the unlikeliest!
What was that Rascal hurt me?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ How?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ Who was he?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ Do you hear conjurer,
Dare you venture your Devil?

_Vec._ Yes.

_Ant._ Then I'll venture my dagger;
Have at your Devils pate; do you mew?

_Enter all._

_Vec._ Hold.

_Pet._ Hold there,
I do command you hold.

_Ant._ Is this the Devil?
Why, Conjurer--

_Pet._ He has been a Devil to you, Sir;
But now you shall forget all; your whore's safe,
And all your jewels, your Boy too.

_John._ Now the Devil indeed
Lay his ten claws upon thee, for my pate
Finds what it is to be a Fiend.

_Ant._ All safe?

_Pet._ 'Pray ye know this person; all's right now.

_Ant._ Your Grace
May now command me then: but where's my whore?

_Pet._ Ready to go to whipping.

_Ant._ My whore whipt?

_Pet._ Yes, your whore without doubt, Sir.

_Ant._ Whipt! 'pray Gentlemen.

_Duke._ Why, would you have her once more rob ye? the young Boy
You may forgive, he was entic'd.

_John._ The whore, Sir,
Would rather carry pity: a handsome whore.

_Ant._ A Gentleman I warrant thee.

_Pet._ Let's in all,
And if we see contrition in your whore, Sir,
Much may be done.

_Duke._ Now my dear fair to you,
And the full consummation of my Vow. [_Exeunt._

Prologue.

_Aptness for Mirth to all, this instant Night_
Thalia _hath prepared for your delight,_
_Her Choice and curious Viands, in each part_
_Season'd with rarities of Wit and Art;_
_Nor fear I to be tax'd for a vain boast,_
_My Promise will find Credit with the most,_
_When they know ingenious_ Fletcher _made it, he_
_Being in himself a perfect Comedie:_
_And some sit here, I doubt not, dare averr_
_Living he made that House a Theatre_
_Which he pleas'd to frequent; and thus much we_
_Could not but pay to his lo[v]d Memorie._
_For our selves, we do entreat that you would not_
_Expect strange turns, and windings in the Plot,_
_Objects of State, and now and then a Rhime,_
_To gall particular Persons with the time;_
_Or that his towring Muse hath made her flight_
_Nearer your apprehension than your sight;_
_But if that sweet Expressions, quick Conceit,_
_Familiar Language, fashion'd to the weight_
_Of such as speak it, have the power to raise_
_Your Grace to us, with Trophies to his Praise;_
_We may profess, presuming on his Skill,_
_If his_ Chances _please not you, our Fortune's ill._

Epilogue.

_We have not held you long, nor do I see_
_One Brow in this selected Companie_
_Assuring a dislike, our Pains were eas'd_
_Could we be confident that all rise pleas'd:_
_But such ambition soars too high; If We_
_Have satisfi'd the best, and they agree_
_In a fair Censure, We have our Reward,_
_And in them arm'd desire no surer Guard._

THE

Bloody Brother;

OR,

ROLLO.

A

TRAGEDY.

Persons Represented in the Play.

Rollo, } _Brothers, Dukes of_ Normandy.
Otto, }
Aubrey, _their kinsman_.
Gisbert, _the Chancellour_.
Baldwin, _the Princes Tutour_.
Grandpree, } _Captains of_ Rollo's _faction_.
Verdon, }
Trevile, } _Captains of_ Otto's _faction_.
Duprete, }
Latorch, Rollo's _Earwig_.
Hamond, _Captain of the Guard to_ Rollo.
Allan, _his Brother_.
Norbrett, }
La Fisk, }
Ru[s]ee, } _Five cheating Rogues._
De Bube, }
Pipeau, }
_Cook._
_Yeoman of the Seller._
_Butler._
_Pantler._
_Lords._
_Sheriff._
_Guard._
_Officers._
_Boys._

_WOMEN._

Sophia, _Mother to the Dukes_.
Matilda, _her Daughter_.
Edith, _Daughter to_ Baldwin.

_Actus Primus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Gisbert _and_ Baldwin.

_Bal._ The Brothers then are met?

_Gis._ They are, Sir.

_Bald._ 'Tis thought, they may be reconcil'd.

_Gis._ 'Tis rather wish't, for such, whose reason
Doth direct their thoughts without self flattery,
Dare not hope it.

_Bald._ The fires of Love, which the dead Duke believ'd
His equal care of both would have united,
Ambition hath divided: and there are
Too many on both parts, that know they cannot
Or rise to wealth or honour, their main ends,
Unless the tempest of the Princes fury
Make troubled Seas, and those Seas yield fit Billows
In their bad Arts to give way to a calm,
Which yielding rest and good, prove their ruin,
And in the shipwrack of their hopes and fortunes,
The Dukedom might be sav'd, had it but ten
That stood affected to the general good,
With that confirm'd zeal which brave _Aubrey_ does.

_Gis._ He is indeed the perfect character
Of a good man, and so his actions speak him.

_Bald._ But did you observe the many doubts, and cautions
The Brothers stood upon before they met?

_Gis._ I did; and yet, that ever Brothers should
Stand on more nice terms, than sworn Enemies
After a War proclaim'd, would with a stranger
Wrong the reporters credit; they saluted
At distance; and so strong was the suspicion
Each had of other, that before they durst
Embrace, they were by sev'ral servants searcht,
As doubting conceal'd weapons, Antidotes
Ta'ne openly by both, fearing the room
Appointed for the enter-view was poyson'd,
The Chairs, and Cushions, with like care survay'd;
And in a word in every circumstance
So jealous on both parts, that it is more
Than to be fear'd, concord can never joyn,
Minds so divided.

_Bald._ Yet our best endeavours,
Should not be wanting, Gisbert.

_Gis._ Neither shall they.

_Enter_ Grandpree, _a[n]d_ Verdon.

But what are these?

_Bald._ They are without my knowledge;
But by their manners, and behaviours,
They should express themselves.

_Grand._ Since we serve _Rollo_
The Elder Brother, we'll be _Rollians_,
Who will maintain us, lads, as brave as _Romans_;
You stand for him?

_Ver._ I do.

_Grand._ Why, then observe
How much the business, your so long'd for business,
By men that are nam'd from their swords, concerns you.
Lechery, our common friend, so long kept under,
With whips, and beating fatal hemps, shall rise,
And Bawdery, in a French-hood plead, before her
Virginity shall be Carted.

_Ver._ Excellent!

_Grand._ And Hell but grant, the quarrel that's between
The Princes may continue, and the business
That's of the sword, t'outlast three suits in Law,
And we will make Atturnies Lansprisadoes,
And our brave gown-men practisers of back-sword;
The pewter of all Serjeants maces shall
Be melted, and turn'd into common Flaggons,
In which it shall be lawful to carouse
To their most lowsie fortunes.

_Bald._ Here's a Statesman.

_Grand._ A creditor shall not dare, but by Petition,
To make demand of any debt; and that
Only once every leap-year, in which, if
The debtor may be won for a French Crown,
To pay a Soulz, he shall be registred
His benefactor.

_Ver._ The Chancellor hears you.

_Grand._ Fear not, I now dare speak as loud as he,
And will be heard, and have all I speak, Law;
Have you no eyes? there is a reverence due,
From Children of the Gown, to Men of Action.

_Gis._ How's this?

_Gran._ Even so; the times, the times are chang'd,
All business is not now prefer'd in Parchment,
Nor shall a grant pass that wants this broad seal;
This seal d'ye see? your gravity once laid
My head and heels together in the Dungeon,
For cracking a scald Officers crown, for which
A time is come for vengeance, and expect it;
For know, you have not full three hours to live.

_Gis._ Yes, somewhat longer.

_Gran._ To what end?

_Gis._ To hang you; think on that, Ruffian.

_Gran._ For you, School-master,
You have a pretty Daughter; let me see,
Near three a Clock, (by which time I much fear,
I shall be tyr'd with killing some five hundred)
Provide a Bath, and her to entertain me,
And that shall be your Ransom.

_Bald._ Impudent Rascal.

_Enter to them_ Trevile _and_ Duprete.

_Gis._ More of the crew?

_Grand._ What are you? _Rollians_?

_Tre._ No; this for _Rollo_, and all such as serve him;
We stand for _Otto_.

_Grand._ You seem men of fashion,
And therefore I'le deal fairly, you shall have
The honour this day to be Chronicled
The first men kill'd by _Grandpree_; you see this sword,
A pretty foolish toy, my valour's Servant,
And I may boldly say a Gentleman,
It having made when it was _Charlemaigns_,
Three thousand Knights; this, Sir, shall cut your throat,
And do you all fair service else.

_Tre._ I kiss your hands for the good offer; here's another
too, the servant of your servant shall be proud to be scour'd
in your sweet guts; till when pray you command me.

_Grand._ Your Idolater, Sir. [_Exeunt. Manent_ Gis. _&_ Bal.

_Gis._ That e're such should hold the names of men,
Or Justice be held cruelty, when it labours
To pluck such weeds up!

_Bald._ Yet they are protected, and by the great ones.

_Gis._ Not the good ones, _Baldwin_.

_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.

_Aub._ Sir.

_Gis._ Dear Lord.

_Otto._ Thy subject?

_Rol._ Yes, nor shall tame patience hold me
A minute longer, only half my self;
My birth gave me this Dukedom, and my sword
Shall change it to the common grave of all
That tread upon her bosom, e're I part with
A piece of earth, or title that is mine.

_Otto._ It needs not, and I would scorn to receive,
Though offer'd, what I want not: therefore know
From me, though not deliver'd in great words,
Eyes red with rage, poor pride, and threatned action;
Our Father at his death, then, when no accent,
Wer't thou a Son, could fall from him in vain,
Made us Co-heirs, our part of Land and Honours
Of equal weight; and to see this confirm'd,
The Oaths of these are yet upon record,
Who though they should forsake me, and call down
The plagues of perjury on their sinful heads,
I would not leave my self.

_Tre._ Nor will we see the Will of the dead Duke infring'd.

_Lat._ Nor I the elder rob'd of what's his right.

_Grand._ Nor you?
Let me take place, I say, I will not see't;
My sword is sharpest.

_Aub._ Peace you tinder-boxes,
That only carry matter to make a flame,
Which will consume you.

_Rol._ You are troublesome, [_To_ Baldwin.
This is no time for arguments, my Title
Needs not your School-defences, but my sword,
With which the Gordian of your Sophistry
Being cut, shall shew th' Imposture. For your laws [_To_
It is in me to change them when I please, [Gisbert.
I being above them; _Gisbert_, would you have me protect them;
Let them now stretch their extreamest rigour,
And seize upon that Traytor; and your tongue
Make him appear first dangerous, then odious;
And after, under the pretence of safety
For the sick State, the Lands and Peoples quiet,
Cut off his head: and I'le give up my sword,
And fight with them at a more certain weapon
To kill, and with Authority.

_Gis._ Sir, I grant the Laws are useful weapons, but found out
T'assure the Innocent, not to oppress.

_Rol._ Then you conclude him Innocent?

_Gis._ The power your Father gave him, must not prove a Crime.

_Aub._ Nor should you so receive it.

_Bald._ To which purpose,
All that dare challenge any part in goodness,
Will become suppliants to you.

_Rol._ They have none
That dare move me in this: hence, I defie you,
Be of his party, bring it to your Laws,
And thou thy double heart, thou popular fool,
Your moral rules of justice and her ballance;
I stand on mine own guard.

_Otto._ Which thy unjustice
Will make thy enemies; by the memory
Of him, whose better part now suffers for thee,
Whose reverend ashes with an impious hand
Thou throw'st out to contempt, in thy repining
At this so just decree; thou art unworthy
Of what his last Will, not thy merits, gave thee,
That art so swoln within, with all those mischiefs
That e're made up a Tyrant, that thy breast,
The prison of thy purposes, cannot hold them,
But that they break forth, and in thy own words
Discover, what a monster they must serve
That shall acknowledge thee.

_Rol._ Thou shalt not live to be so happy.

_Aub._ Nor your miseries begin in murther.

[_He offers his sword at_ Otto, _the faction joyning_,
[Aubrey _between severs the Brothers_.

Duty, allegeance, and all respects of what you are, forsake me:
Do you stare on? is this a Theater?
Or shall these kill themselves, like to mad fencers,
To make you sport? keep them asunder, or
By Heaven I'le charge on all.

_Grand._ Keep the peace,
I am for you, my Lord, and if you'l have me,
I'le act the Constables part.

_Aub._ Live I to see this?
Will you do that your enemies dare not wish,
And cherish in your selves those furies, which
Hell would cast out? Do, I am ready; kill me,
And these, that would fall willing sacrifices
To any power that would restore your reason,
And make you men again, which now you are not.

_Rol._ These are your bucklers boy.

_Otto._ My hinderances;
And were I not confirm'd, my justice in
The taking of thy life, could not weigh down
The wrong, in shedding the least drop of bloud
Of these whose goodness only now protects thee,
Thou should'st feel I in act would only prove my self
What thou in words do'st labour to appear.

_Rol._ Hear this, and talk again! I'le break through all,
But I will reach thy heart.

_Otto._ 'Tis better guarded.

_Enter_ Sophia.

_Soph._ Make way, or I will force it, who are those?
My Sons? my shames; turn all your swords on me,
And make this wretched body but one wound,
So this unnatural quarrel find a grave
In the unhappy womb that brought you forth:
Dare you remember that you had a Mother,
Or look on these gray hairs, made so with tears,
For both your goods, and not with age; and yet
Stand doubtful to obey her? from me you had
Life, Nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons;
And dare you raise them against her, to whom
You owe the means of being what you are?

_Otto._ All peace is meant to you.

_Soph._ Why is this War then?
As if your arms could be advanc'd, and I
Not set upon the rack? your bloud is mine,
Your dangers mine, your goodness I should share in;
I must be branded with those impious marks
You stamp on your own foreheads and on mine,
If you go on thus: for my good name therefore,
Though all respects of honour in your selves
Be in your fury choakt, throw down your swords;
Your duty should be swifter than my tongue;
And joyn your hands while they be innocent;
You have heat of bloud, and youth apt to Ambition,
To plead an easie pardon for what's past:
But all the ills beyond this hour committed,
From Gods or men must hope for no excuse.

_Gis._ Can you hear this unmov'd?
No Syllable of this so pious charm, but should have power
To frustrate all the juggling deceits,
With which the Devil blinds you.

_Otto._ I begin to melt, I know not how.

_Rol._ Mother, I'le leave you;
And, Sir, be thankful for the time you live,
Till we meet next (which shall be soon and sudden)
To her perswasion for you.

_Soph._ O yet, stay,
And rather than part thus, vouchsafe me hearing,
As enemies; how is my soul divided?
My love to both is equal, as my wishes;
But are return'd by neither; my griev'd heart,
Hold yet a little longer, and then break.
I kneel to both, and will speak so, but this
Takes from me th' authority of a mothers power;
And therefore, like my self, _Otto_, to thee,
(And yet observe, son, how thy mothers tears
Outstrip her forward words, to make way for'em)
Thou art the younger, _Otto_, yet be now
The first example of obedience to me,
And grow the elder in my love.

_Otto._ The means to be so happy?

_Soph._ This; yield up thy sword,
And let thy piety give thy mother strength
To take that from thee, which no enemies force
Could e're despoil thee of: why do'st thou tremble,
And with a fearful eye fixt on thy Brother,
Observ'st his ready sword, as bent against thee?
I am thy armour, and will be pierc'd through,
Ten thousand times, before I will give way
To any peril may arrive at thee;
And therefore fear not.

_Otto._ 'Tis not for my self,
But for you, mother; you are now ingag'd
In more tha[n] lies in your unquestion'd vertue;
For, since you have disarm'd me of defence,
Should I fall now, though by his hand, the world
May say it was your practice.

_Soph._ All worlds perish,
Before my piety turn treasons parent,
Take it again, and stand upon your guard,
And while your Brother is, continue arm'd;
And yet, this fear is needless, for I know,
My _Rollo_, though he dares as much as man,
So tender of his yet untainted valour,
So noble, that he dares do nothing basely.
You doubt him; he fears you; I doubt and fear
Both; for others safety, and not mine own.
Know yet, my sons, when of necessity
You must deceive, or be deceiv'd; 'tis better
To suffer Treason, than to act the Traytor;
And in a War like this, in which the glory
Is his that's overcome; consider then
What 'tis for which you strive: is it the Dukedom?
Or the command of these so ready subjects?
Desire of wealth? or whatsoever else
Fires your ambition? This still desp'rate madness,
To kill the people which you would be Lords of;
With fire, and sword to lay that Country waste
Whose rule you seek for: to consume the treasures,
Which are the sinews of your Government,
In cherishing the factions that destroy it:
Far, far be this from you: make it not question'd
Whether you have interest in that Dukedom,
Whose ruine both contend for.

_Otto._ I desire but to enjoy my own, which I will keep.

_Rol._ And rather than posterity shall have cause
To say I ruin'd all, divide the Dukedom,
I will accept the moiety.

_Ott._ I embrace it.

_Soph._ Divide me first, or tear me limb by limb,
And let them find as many several Graves
As there are villages in _Normandy_:
And 'tis less sin, than thus to weaken it.
To hear it mention'd doth already make me
Envy my dead Lord, and almost Blaspheme
Those powers that heard my prayer for fruitfulness,
And did not with my first birth close my womb:
To me alone my second blessing proves
My first of misery, for if that Heaven
Which gave me _Rollo_, there had staid his bounty,
And _Otto_, my dear _Otto_, ne're had been,
Or being, had not been so worth my love,
The stream of my affection had run constant
In one fair current, all my hopes had been
Laid up in one; and fruitful _Normandy_
In this division had not lost her glories:
For as 'tis now, 'tis a fair Diamond,
Which being preserv'd intire, exceeds all value,
But cut in pieces (though these pieces are
Set in fine gold by the best work-mans cunning)
Parts with all estimation: So this Dukedom,
As 'tis yet whole, the neighbouring Kings may covet,
But cannot compass; which divided, will
Become the spoil of every barbarous foe
That will invade it.

_Gis._ How this works in both!

_Bal._ Prince _Rollo_'s eyes have lost their fire.

_Gis._ And anger, that but now wholly possessed
Good Otto, hath given place to pity.

_Aub._ End not thus Madam, but perfect what's so well begun.

_Soph._ I see in both, fair signs of reconcilement,
Make them sure proofs they are so: the Fates offer
To your free choice, either to live Examples
Of Piety, or wickedness: if the later
Blinds so your understanding, that you cannot
Pierce through her painted out-side, and discover
That she is all deformity within,
Boldly transcend all precedents of mischief,
And let the last, and the worst end of tyrannies,
The murther of a Mother, but begin
The stain of bloud you after are to heighten:
But if that vertue, and her sure rewards,
Can win you to accept her for your guide,
To lead you up to Heaven, and there fix you
The fairest Stars in the bright Sphere of honour;
Make me the parent of an hundred sons,
All brought into the world with joy, not sorrow,
And every one a Father to his Country,
In being now made Mother of your concord.

_Rol._ Such, and so good, loud fame for ever speak you.

_Bal._ I, now they meet like Brothers.

[_The Brothers cast away their Swords and embrace._

_Gis._ My hearts joy flows through my eyes.

_Aub._ May never Womans tongue
Hereafter be accus'd, for this ones Goodness.

_Otto._ If we contend, from this hour, it shall be
How to o'recome in brotherly affection.

_Rol._ _Otto_ is _Rollo_ now, and _Rollo_, _Otto_,
Or as they have one mind, rather one name:
From this attonement let our lives begin,
Be all the rest forgotten.

_Aub._ Spoke like _Rollo_.

_Soph._ And to the honour of this reconcilement,
We all this night will at a publick Feast
With choice Wines drown our late fears, and with Musick
Welcome our comforts.

_Bald._ Sure and certain ones. [_Exeunt._

[_Manent_ Grandpree, Verdon, Trevile _and_ Duprete.

_Grand._ Did ever such a hopeful business end thus?

_Ver._ 'Tis fatal to us all, and yet you _Grandpree_,
Have the least cause to fear.

_Grand._ Why, what's my hope?

_Ver._ The certainty that you have to be hang'd;
You know the Chancellours promise.

_Grand._ Plague upon you.

_Ver._ What think you of a Bath, and a Lords Daughter
To entertain you?

_Grand._ Those desires are off.
Frail thoughts, all friends, no _Rollians_ now, nor _Ottoes_:
The sev'ral court'sies of our swords and servants
Defer to after consequence; let's make use
Of this nights freedom, a short Parliament to us,
In which it will be lawful to walk freely.
Nay, to our drink we shall have meat too, that's
No usual business to the men o'th' sword.
Drink deep with me to night, we shall to morrow,
Or whip, or hang the merrier.

_Tre._ Lead the way then. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Latorch, _and_ Rollo.

_Lato._ Why should this trouble you?

_Rol._ It does, and must do till I find ease.

_Lato._ Consider then, and quickly;
And like a wise man, take the current with you,
Which once turn'd head, will sink you; blest occasion
Offers her self in thousand safeties to you;
Time standing still to point you out your purpose,
And resolution (the true child of Vertue)
Readie to execute: what dull cold weakness
Has crept into your bosom, whose meer thoughts
Like tempests, plowing up the sayling Forests,
Even with their swing were wont to shake down hazards.
What is't, your Mothers tears?

_Rol._ Pray thee be patient.

_Lat._ Her hands held up? her prayers, or her curses?
Oh power of paper dropt through by a woman!
Take heed the Souldiers see it not; 'tis miserable,
In _Rollo_ below miserable; take heed your friends,
The sinews of your cause, the strength you stir by,
Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed
Your own repentance (like a passing-bell)
Too late, and too loud, tell the world y'are perisht:
What noble spirit, eager of advancement,
Whose imployment is his plough; what sword whose sharpness
Waits but the arm to wield it; or what hope,
After the world has blown abroad this weakness,
Will move again, or make a wish for _Rollo_?

_Rol._ Are we not friends again by each oath ratified,
Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts?

_Lat._ Poor hearts then.

_Rol._ Our worthier friends.

_Lat._ No friends Sir, to your honour;
Friends to your fall: where is your understanding,
The noble vessel that your full soul sail'd in,
Rib'd round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruin'd,
The tempest of a womans sighs has sunk it.
Friendship, take heed Sir, is a smiling harlot
That when she kisses, kills, a soder'd friendship
Piec'd out with promises; O painted ruine!

_Rol._ _Latorch_, he is my Brother.

_Lat._ The more doubted;
For hatred hatcht at home is a tame Tiger,
May fawn and sport, but never leaves his nature;
The jars of Brothers, two such mighty ones,
Is like a small stone thrown into a river,
The breach scarce heard, but view the beaten current,
And you shall see a thousand angry rings
Rise in his face, still swelling and still growing;
So jars circling distrusts, distrusts breed dangers,
And dangers death, the greatest extreme shadow,
Till nothing bound 'em but the shoar their graves;
There is no manly wisedom, nor no safety
In leaning to this league, this piec'd patcht friendship;
This rear'd up reconcilement on a billow,
Which as it tumbles, totters down your fortune;
Is't not your own you reach at? Law and nature
Ushering the way before you; is not he
Born and bequeath'd your subject?

_Rol._ Ha.