THE Bloody Brother; OR, ROLLO. A TRAGEDY.

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Francis Beaumont
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, Five cheating Rogues.
La Fisk,
Ru[s]ee,
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.

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.

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.
Lat. What fool would give a storm leave to disturb his peace,
 When he may shut the casement? can that man
 Has won so much upon your pity,
 And drawn so high, that like an ominous Comet,
 He darkens all your light; can this toucht Lyon
 (Though now he licks and locks up his fell paws,
 Craftily huming, like a catt to cozen you)
 But when ambition whets him, and time fits him,
 Leap to his prey, and seiz'd once, suck your heart out?
 Do you make it conscience?
Rol. Conscience, Latorch, what's that?
Lat. A fear they tye up fools in, natures coward,
 Palling the blood, and chilling the full spirit
 With apprehension of meer clouds and shadows.
Rol. I know no conscience, nor I fear no shadows.
Lat. Or if you did, if there were conscience,
 If the free soul could suffer such a curb
 To the fiery mind, such puddles to put it out;
 Must it needs like a rank Vine, run up rudely,
 And twine about the top of all our happiness,
 Honour and rule, and there sit shaking of us?
Rol. It shall not, nor it must not; I am satisfied,
 And once more am my self again:
 My Mothers tears and womanish cold prayers,
 Farewel, I have forgot you; if there be conscience,
 Let it not come betwixt a crown and me,
 Which is my hope of bliss, and I believe it:
 Otto, our friendship thus I blow to air,
 A bubble for a boy to play withal;
 And all the vows my weakness made, like this,
 Like this poor heartless rush, I rend in pieces.
Lat. Now you go right, Sir, now your eyes are open.
Rol. My Fathers last petition's dead as he is,
 And all the promises I clos'd his eyes with,
 In the same grave I bury.
Lat. Now y'are a man, Sir.
Rol. Otto, thou shewst my winding sheet before me,
 Which e're I put it on, like Heavens blest fire
 In my descent I'le make it blush in blood;
 A Crown, A Crown, Oh sacred Rule, now fire me,
 Nor shall the pity of thy youth, false Brother,
 Although a thousand Virgins kneel before me,
 And every dropping eye a court of mercy,
 The same blood with me, nor the reverence
 Due to my mothers blest womb that bred us,
 Redeem thee from my doubts: thou art a wolf here,
 Fed with my fears, and I must cut thee from me:
 A Crown, A Crown; Oh sacred Rule, now fire me:
 No safety else.
Lat. But be not too much stir'd, Sir, nor too high
 In your execution: swallowing waters
 Run deep and silent, till they are satisfied,
 And smile in thousand Curles, to guild their craft;
 Let your sword sleep, and let my two edg'd wit work,
 This happy feast, the full joy of your friendships
 Shall be his last.
Rol. How, my Latorch?
Lat. Why thus, Sir;
 I'le presently go dive into the Officers
 That minister at Table: gold and goodness,
 With promise upon promise, and time necessary,
 I'le pour into them.
Rol. Canst thou do it neatly?
Lat. Let me alone, and such a bait it shall be,
 Shall take off all suspicion.
Rol. Go, and prosper.
Lat. Walk in then, and your smoothest face put on Sir.
 [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter the Master Cook, Butler, Pantler, Yeoman of the Cellar, with a Jack of Beer and a Dish.

Cook. A hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot day boys,
 Give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter:
 Body of me, I'm dry still; give me the Jack boy;
 This wooden Skiff holds nothing.
Pant. And faith master, what brave new meats; for here
 Will be old eating.
Coo. Old and young, boy, let 'em all eat, I have it;
 I have ballast for their bellies, if they eat a gods name,
 Let them have ten tire of teeth a piece, I care not.
But. But what new rare munition?
Coo. Pish, a thousand;
 I'le make you piggs speak French at table, and a fat swan
 Come sailing out of England with a challenge;
 I'le make you a dish of calves-feet dance the Canaries,
 And a consort of cramm'd capons fiddle to 'em;
 A calves head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larks
 Rise from the dish, and sing all supper time;
 'Tis nothing boyes: I have framed a fortification
 Out of Rye paste, which is impregnable,
 And against that, for two long hours together,
 Two dozen of marrow-bones shall play continually:
 For fish, I'le make you a standing lake of white broth,
 And pikes come ploughing up the plums before them;
 Arion, like a Dolphin, playing LachrymÆ,
 And brave King Herring with his oyle and onyon
 Crown'd with a Limon pill, his way prepar'd
 With his strong Guard of Pilchers.
Pant. I marry Master.
Coo. All these are nothing: I'le make you a stubble Goose
 Turn o'th' toe thrice, do a cross point presently,
 And sit down again, and cry come eat me:
 These are for mirth. Now Sir, for matter of mourning,
 I'le bring you in the Lady Loyn of Veal,
 With the long love she bore the Prince of Orenge.
All. Thou boy, thou.
Coo. I have a trick for thee too,
 And a rare trick, and I have done it for thee.
Yeo. What's that good master?
Coo. 'Tis a sacrifice.
 A full Vine bending, like an Arch, and under
 The blown god Bacchus, sitting on a Hogshead,
 His Altar Beer: before that, a plump Vintner
 Kneeling, and offring incense to his deitie,
 Which shall be only this, red Sprats and Pilchers.
But. This when the Table's drawn, to draw the wine on.
Coo. Thou hast it right, and then comes thy Song, Butler.
Pant. This will be admirable.
Yeo. Oh Sir, most admirable.
Coo. If you'l have the pasty speak, 'tis in my power,
 I have fire enough to work it; come, stand close,
 And now rehearse the Song, we may be perfect,
 The drinking Song, and say I were the Brothers.
The drinking SONG.
Drink to day and drown all sorrow.
 You shall perhaps not do it to morrow.
 Best while you have it use your breath,
 There is no drinking after death.
Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit,
 There is no cure 'gainst age but it.
 It helps the head-ach, cough and tissick,
 And is for all diseases Physick.
Then let us swill boyes for our health,
 Who drinks well, loves the common-wealth.
 And he that will to bed go sober,
 Falls with the leaf still in October.
Well have you born your selves; a red Deer Pye, Boyes,
 And that no lean one, I bequeath your vertues;
 What friends hast thou to day? no citizens?
Pant. Yes Father, the old Crew.
Coo. By the mass true wenches:
 Sirrah, set by a chine of Beef, and a hot Pasty,
 And let the Joll of Sturgeon be corrected:
 And do you mark Sir, stalk me to a Pheasant,
 And see if you can shoot her in the Sellar.
Pant. God a mercy Lad, send me thy roaring bottles,
 And with such Nectar I will see 'em fill'd,
 That all thou speak'st shall be pure Helicon.

Enter Latorch.

Monsieur Latorch? what news with him? Save you.
Lat. Save you Master, save you Gentlemen,
 You are casting for this preparation;
 This joyfull supper for the royal Brothers:
 I'm glad I have met you fitly, for to your charge
 My bountifull brave Butler, I must deliver
 A Bevie of young Lasses, that must look on
 This nights solemnity, and see the two Dukes,
 Or I shall lose my credit; you have Stowage?
But. For such freight I'le find room, and be your servant.
Coo. Bring them, they shall not starve here, I'le send 'em victuals
 Shall work you a good turn, though't be ten days hence, Sir.
Lat. God a mercy noble Master.
Coo. Nay, I'le do't.
Yeo. And wine they shall not want, let 'em drink like Ducks.
Lat. What misery it is that minds so royal,
 And such most honest bounties, as yours are,
 Should be confin'd thus to uncertainties?
But. I, were the State once setled, then we had places.
Yeo. Then we could shew our selves, and help our friends, Sir.
Coo. I, then there were some savour in't, where now
 We live between two stools, every hour ready
 To tumble on our noses; and for ought we know yet,
 For all this Supper, ready to fast the next day.
Lat. I would fain speak unto you out of pitie,
 Out of the love I bear you, out of honesty,
 For your own goods; nay, for the general blessing.
Coo. And we would as fain hear you, pray go forward.
Lat. Dare you but think to make your selves up certainties
 Your places and your credits ten times doubled,
 The Princes favour, Rollo's?
But. A sweet Gentleman.
Yeo. I, and as bounteous, if he had his right too.
Coo. By the mass, a Royal Gentleman indeed Boyes,
 He'd make the chimneys smoak.
Lat. He would do't friends,
 And you too, if he had his right, true Courtiers;
 What could you want then? dare you?
Coo. Pray you be short Sir.
Lat. And this my soul upon't, I dare assure you,
 If you but dare your parts.
Coo. Dare not me Monsieur,
 For I that fear nor fire nor water, Sir,
 Dare do enough, a man would think.
Yeo. Believ't, Sir;
 But make this good upon us you have promis'd,
 You shall not find us flinchers.
Lat. Then I'le be sudden.
Pant. What may this mean? and whither would he drive us?
Lat. And first, for what you must do, because all danger
 Shall be apparantly ty'd up and muzl'd,
 The matter seeming mighty: there's your pardons.
Pant. Pardons? Is't come to that? gods defend us.
Lat. And here's five hundred Crowns in bounteous earnest,
 And now behold the matter. [Latorch gives each a paper.
But. What are these, Sir?
Yeo. And of what nature? to what use?
Lat. Imagine.
Coo. Will they kill Rats? they eat my pyes abominably,
 Or work upon a woman cold as Christmas?
 I have an old Jade sticks upon my fingers,
 May I taste them?
Lat. Is your will made?
 And have you said your prayers? for they'le pay you:
 And now to come up to you, for your knowledge,
 And for the good you never shall repent you
 If you be wise men now.
Coo. Wise as you will, Sir.
Lat. These must be put then into the several meats
 Young Otto loves, by you into his wine, Sir,
 Into his bread by you, by you into his linnen.
 Now if you desire, you have found the means
 To make you, and if you dare not, you have
 Found your ruine; resolve me e're you go.
But. You'l keep your faith with us.
Lat. May I no more see light else.
Coo. Why 'tis done then!
But. 'Tis done.
Pant. 'Tis done which shall be undone.
Lat. About it then, farewel, y'are all of one mind.
Coo. All?
All. All, All.
Lat. Why then, all happie. [Exit.
But. What did we promise him?
Yeo. Do you ask that now?
But. I would be glad to know what 'tis.
Pan. I'le tell you,
 It is to be all villains, knaves, and traytors.
Coo. Fine wholsome titles.
Pan. But if you dare, go forward.
Coo. We may be hang'd, drawn, and quarter'd.
Pan. Very true, Sir.
Coo. What a goodly swing I shall give the gallows? yet
 I think too, this may be done, and yet we may be rewarded,
 not with a rope, but with a royal master: and yet we may
 be hang'd too.
Yeo. Say it were done; who is it done for? is it not for Rollo?
 And for his right?
Coo. And yet we may be hang'd too.
But. Or say he take it, say we be discover'd?
[Yeo.] Is not the same man bound still to protect us?
 Are we not his?
But. Sure, he will never fail us.
Coo. If he do, friends, we shall find that will hold us.
 And yet me thinks, this prologue to our purpose,
 These crowns should promise more: 'tis easily done,
 As easie as a man would roast an egge,
 If that be all; for look you, Gentlemen,
 Here stand my broths, my finger slips a little,
 Down drops a dose, I stir him with my ladle,
 And there's a dish for a Duke: Olla Podrida.
 Here stands a bak'd meat, he wants a little seasoning,
 A foolish mistake; my Spice-box, Gentlemen,
 And put in some of this, the matter's ended;
 Dredge you a dish of plovers, there's the Art on't.
Yeo. Or as I fill my wine.
Coo. 'Tis very true, Sir,
 Blessing it with your hand, thus quick and neatly first, 'tis past
 And done once, 'tis as easie
 For him to thank us for it, and reward us.
Pan. But 'tis a damn'd sin.
Coo. O, never fear that.
 The fire's my play-fellow, and now I am resolv'd, boyes.
But. Why then, have with you.
Yeo. The same for me.
Pan. For me too.
Coo. And now no more our worships, but our Lordships.
Pan. Not this year, on my knowledge, I'le unlord you. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Servant, and Sewer.

Ser. Perfume the room round, and prepare the table,
 Gentlemen officers, wait in your places.
Sew. Make room there,
 Room for the Dukes meat. Gentlemen, be bare there,
 Clear all the entrance: Guard, put by those gapers,
 And Gentlemen-ushers, see the gallery clear,
 The Dukes are coming on.

Hoboys, a banquet.

Enter Sophia, between Rollo, and Otto, Aubry, Latorch, Gis[b]ert, Baldwin, Attendants, Hamond, Matilda, Edith.

Ser. 'Tis certainly inform'd.
Ot. Reward the fellow, and look you mainly to it.
Ser. My life for yours, Sir.
Soph. Now am I straight, my Lords, and young again,
 My long since blasted hopes shoot out in blossomes,
 The fruits of everlasting love appearing;
 Oh! my blest boys, the honour of my years,
 Of all my cares, the bounteous fair rewarders.
 Oh! let me thus imbrace you, thus for ever
 Within a Mothers love lock up your friendships:
 And my sweet sons, once more with mutual twinings,
 As one chaste bed begot you, make one body:
 Blessings from heaven in thousand showrs fall on you.
Aub. Oh! womans goodness never to be equall'd,
 May the most sinfull creatures of thy sex
 But kneeling at thy monument, rise saints.
Soph. Sit down my worthy sons; my Lords, your places.
 I, now me thinks the table's nobly furnisht;
 Now the meat nourishes; the wine gives spirit;
 And all the room stuck with a general pleasure,
 Shews like the peacefull boughs of happiness.
Aub. Long may it last, and from a heart fill'd with it
 Full as my cup; I give it round, my Lords.
Bald. And may that stubborn heart be drunk with sorrow
 Refuses it; men dying now should take it,
 And by the vertue of this ceremony
 Shake off their miseries, and sleep in peace.
Rol. You are sad, my noble Brother.
Ot. No, indeed, Sir.
Soph. No sadness my son this day.
Rol. Pray you eat,
 Something is here you have lov'd; taste of this dish,
 It will prepare your stomach.
Ot. Thank you brother: I am not now dispos'd to eat.
Rol. Or that,
 You put us out of heart man, come, these bak't meats
 Were ever your best dyet.
Ot. None, I thank you.
Soph. Are you well, noble child?
Ot. Yes, gracious Mother.
Rol. Give him a cup of wine, then, pledge the health,
 Drink it to me, I'le give it to my Mother.
Soph. Do, my best child.
Ot. I must not, my best Mother,
 Indeed I dare not: for of late, my body
 Has been much weakned by excess of dyet;
 The promise of a feaver hanging on me,
 And even now ready, if not by abstinence—
Rol. And will you keep it in this general freedom;
 A little health preferr'd before our friendship?
Ot. I pray you excuse me, Sir.
Rol. Excuse your self Sir,
 Come 'tis your fear, and not your favour Brother,
 And you have done me a most worthy kindness
 My Royal Mother, and you noble Lords;
 Here, for it now concerns me to speak boldly;
 What faith can be expected from his vows,
 From his dissembling smiles, what fruit of friendship
 From all his dull embraces, what blest issue,
 When he shall brand me here for base suspicion?
 He takes me for a poysoner.
Sop. Gods defend it son.
Rol. For a foul knave, a villain, and so fears me.
Ot. I could say something too.
Sop. You must not so Sir,
 Without your great forgetfulness of vertue;
 This is your Brother, and your honour'd Brother.
Rol. If he please so.
Sop. One noble Father, with as noble thoughts,
 Begot your minds and bodies: one care rockt you,
 And one truth to you both was ever sacred;
 Now fye my Otto, whither flyes your goodness?
 Because the right hand has the power of cutting,
 Shall the left presently cry out 'tis maimed?
 They are one my child, one power, and one performance,
 And joyn'd together thus, one love, one body.
Aub. I do beseech your grace, take to your thoughts
 More certain counsellors than doubts or fears,
 They strangle nature, and disperse themselves
 (If once believ'd) into such foggs and errours
 That the bright truth her self can never sever:
 Your Brother is a royal Gentleman
 Full of himself, honour, and honesty,
 And take heed Sir, how nature bent to goodness,
 (So streight a Cedar to himself) uprightness
 Be wrested from his true use, prove not dangerous.
Rol. Nay my good Brother knows I am too patient.
Lat. Why should your grace think him a poysoner?
 Has he no more respect to piety?
 And but he has by oath ty'd up his fury
 Who durst but think that thought?
Aub. Away thou firebrand.
Lat. If men of his sort, of his power, and place
 The eldest son in honour to this Dukedom.
Bald. For shame contain thy tongue, thy poysonous to[n]gue
 That with her burning venome will infect all,
 And once more blow a wilde fire through the Dukedom.
Gis. Latorch, if thou be'st honest, or a man,
 Contain thy self.
Aub. Go to, no more, by Heaven
 You'le find y'have plai'd the fool else, not a word more.
Sop. Prethee sweet son.
Rol. Let him alone sweet Mother, and my Lords
 To make you understand how much I honour
 This sacred peace, and next my innocence,
 And to avoid all further difference
 Discourse may draw on to a way of danger
 I quit my place, and take my leave for this night,
 Wishing a general joy may dwell among you.
Aub. Shall we wait on your grace?
Rol. I dare not break you, Latorch. [Ex. Rol. and Lat.
Ot. Oh Mother that your tenderness had eyes,
 Discerning eyes, what would this man appear then?
 The tale of Synon when he took upon him
 To ruine Troy; with what a cloud of cunning
 He hid his heart, nothing appearing outwards,
 But came like innocence, and dropping pity,
 Sighs that would sink a Navie, and had tales
 Able to take the ears of Saints, belief too,
 And what did all these? blew the fire to Ilium.
 His crafty art (but more refin'd by study)
 My Brother has put on: oh I could tell you
 But for the reverence I bear to nature,
 Things that would make your honest blood run backward.
Sop. You dare tell me?
Ot. Yes, in your private closet
 Where I will presently attend you; rise
 I am a little troubled, but 'twill off.
Sop. Is this the joy I look'd for?
Ot. All will mend,
 Be not disturb'd dear Mother, I'le not fail you.

[Ex. Sop. and Otto.

Bald. I do not like this.
Aub. That is still in our powers,
 But how to make it so that we may like it.
Bald. Beyond us ever; Latorch me thought was busie,
 That fellow, if not lookt to narrowly, will do a suddain mischief.
Aub. Hell look to him,
 For if there may be a Devil above all, yet
 That Rogue will make him; keep you up this night,
 And so will I, for much I fear a danger.
Bald. I will, and in my watches use my prayers. [Exeunt.

Enter Sophia, Otto, Matillda, Edith.

Ot. You wonder Madam, that for all the shews
 My Brother Rollo makes of hearty love
 And free possession of the Dukedom 'twixt us;
 I notwithstanding should stand still suspicious,
 As if beneath those veils, he did convey
 Intents and practices of hate, and treason?
So[p]. It breeds indeed my wonder.
Ot. Which makes mine,
 Since it is so safe and broad a beaten way,
 Beneath the name of friendship to betray.
Sop. Though in remote and further off affections,
 These falsehoods are so common, yet in him
 They cannot so force nature.
Ot. The more near
 The bands of truth bind, the more oft they sever,
 Being better cloaks to cover falsehood over.
Sop. It cannot be, that fruits the tree so blasting
 Can grow in nature; take heed gentle Son
 Lest some suborn'd suggester of these treasons,
 Believ'd in him by you, provok'd the rather
 His tender envies, to such foul attempts;
 Or that your too much love to rule alone
 Breed not in him this jealous passion;
 There is not any ill we might not bear
 Were not our good held at a price too dear.
Ot. So apt is treachery to be excused,
 That innocence is still aloud abused,
 The fate of vertue even her friends perverts,
 To plead for vice oft times against their hearts,
 Heavens blessing is her curse, which she must bear
 That she may never love.
Sop. Alas, my son, nor fate, nor heaven it self,
 Can or would wrest my whole care of your good
 To any least secureness in your ill:
 What I urge issues from my curious fear;
 Lest you should make your means to scape your snare.
 Doubt of sincereness is the only mean
 Not to incense it, but corrupt it clean.
Ot. I rest as far from wrong of sincereness,
 As he flyes from the practice, trust me Madam,
 I know by their confessions, he suborn'd,
 What I should eat, drink, touch, or only have scented,
 This evening feast was poysoned, but I fear
 This open violence more, that treacherous oddes
 Which he in his insatiate thirst of rule
 Is like to execute.
Sop. Believe it Son,
 If still his stomach be so foul to feed
 On such gross objects, and that thirst to rule
 The state alone be yet unquench'd in him,
 Poysons and such close treasons ask more time
 Than can suffice his fiery spirits hast:
 And were there in him such desire to hide
 So false a practice, there would likewise rest
 Conscience and fear in him of open force,
 And therefore close nor open you need fear.
Mat. Good Madam, stand not so inclin'd to trust
 What proves his tendrest thoughts to doubt it just,
 Who knows not the unbounded flood and sea,
 In which my Brother Rollo's appetites
 Alter and rage with every puffe and breath?
 His swelling blood exhales, and therefore hear,
 What gives my temperate Brother cause to use
 His readiest circumspection, and consult
 For remedy against all his wicked purposes;
 If he arm, arm, if he strew mines of treason,
 Meet him with countermines, it is justice still
 (For goodness sake) t'encounter ill with ill.
Sop. Avert from us such justice, equal heaven,
 And all such cause of justice.
Ot. Past all doubt
 (For all the sacred privilege of night)
 This is no time for us to sleep or rest in;
 Who knows not all things holy are prevented
 With ends of all impietie, all but
 Lust, gain, ambition.

Enter Rollo, armed, and Latorch.

Rol. Perish all the world
 E're I but lose one foot of possible Empire,
 Be slights and colour us'd by slaves and wretches,
 I am exempt by birth from both these curbs,
 And since above them in all justice, since
 I sit above in power, where power is given,
 Is all the right suppos'd of Earth and Heaven.
Lat. Prove both Sir, see the traytor.
Ot. He comes arm'd, see Mother, now your confidence.
Sop. What rage affects this monster?
Rol. Give me way or perish.
Sop. Make thy way viper, if thou thus affect it.
Ot. This is a treason like thee.
Rol. Let her go.
Sop. Embrace me, wear me as thy shield, my Son;
 And through my breast let his rude weapon run,
 To thy lives innocence.
Ot. Play not two parts,
 Treacher and coward both; but yield a sword,
 And let thy arming thee be odds enough
 Against my naked bosom.
Rol. Loose his hold.
Mat. Forbear base murtherer.
Rol. Forsake our Mother.
Sop. Mother, dost thou name me, and put'st off nature thus?
Rol. Forsake her traytour,
 Or by the spouse of nature through hers
 This leads unto thy heart.
Ot. Hold.
Sop. Hold me still.
Ot. For twenty hearts and lives I will not hazard
 One drop of blood in yours.
Sop. Oh thou art lost then.
Ot. Protect my innocence, Heaven.
Sop. Call out murther.
Mat. Be murthered all, but save him.
Ed. Murther, murther.
Rol. Cannot I reach you yet?
Ot. No, fiend.
Rol. Latorch, rescue, I'me down.
Lat. Up then, your sword cools Sir,
 Ply it i'th' flame, and work your ends out.
Rol. Ha, have at [you] there Sir.

Enter Aubrey.

Aub. Author of prodigies, what sights are these?
Ot. Oh give me a weapon, Aubrey.
Sop. Oh part 'em, part 'em.
Aub. For Heavens sake no more.
Ot. No more resist his fury, no rage can
 Add to his mischief done. [Dyes.
Sop. Take spirit my Otto,
 Heaven will not see thee dye thus.
Mat. He is dead, and nothing lives but death of every goodness.
Sop. Oh he hath slain his Brother, curse him heaven.
Rol. Curse and be cursed, it is the fruit of cursing,
 Latorch, take off here, bring too, of that blood
 To colour o're my shirt, then raise the Court
 And give it out how he attempted us
 In our bed naked: shall the name of Brother
 Forbid us to inlarge our state and powers?
 Or place affects of blood above our reason?
 That tells us all things good against another,
 Are good in the same line against a Brother. [Exit.

Enter Gisbert, Baldwin.

Gis. What affairs inform these out-cries?
Aub. See and grieve.
Gis. Prince Otto slain!
Bal. Oh execrable slaughter!
 What hand hath author'd it?
Aub. Your Scholars, Baldwin.
Bald. Unjustly urg'd, Lord Aubrey, as if I,
 For being his Schoolmaster, must own this doctrine,
 You are his Counsellours, did you advise him
 To this foul parricide?
Gis. If rule affect this licence, who would live
 To worse, than dye in force of his obedience?
Bal. Heavens cold and lingring spirit to punish sin,
 And humane blood so fiery to commit it,
 One so outgoes the other, it will never
 Be turn'd to fit obedience.
Aub. Burst it then
 With his full swing given, where it brooks no bound,
 Complaints of it are vain; and all that rests
 To be our refuge (since our powers are strengthless)
 Is to conform our wills to suffer freely,
 What with our murmurs we can never master;
 Ladys, be pleased with what heavens pleasure suffers,
 Erect your princely countenances and spirits,
 And to redress the mischiefs now resistless,
 Sooth it in shew, rather than curse or cross it;
 Which all amends, and vow to it your best,
 But till you may perform it, let it rest.
Gis. Those temporizings are too dull and servile,
 To breath the free air of a manly soul,
 Which shall in me expire in execrations,
 Before for any life I sooth a murtherer.
Bal. Pour lives before him, till his own be dry
 Of all lives services and humane comforts;
 None left that looks at heaven is half so base
 To do those black and hellish actions grace.

Enter Rollo, Lat. Ham. and Guard.

Rol. Haste Latorch
 And raise the Citie as the Court is rais'd,
 Proclaiming the abhor'd conspiracy
 In plot against my life.
Lat. I haste my Lord. [Exit.
Rol. You there that mourn upon the justly slain,
 Arise and leave it if you love your lives,
 And hear from me what (kept by you) may save you.
Mat. What will the Butcher do? I will not stir.
Rol. Stir, and unforc't stir, or stir never more:
 Command her, you grave Beldam, that know better
 My deadly resolutions, since I drew them
 From the infective fountain of your own,
 Or if you have forgot, this fiery prompter
 Shall fix the fresh impression on your heart.
Sop. Rise Daughter, serve his will in what we may,
 Lest what we may not he enforce the rather,
 Is this all you command us?
Rol. This addition only admitted, that when I endeavour
 To quit me of this slaughter, you presume not
 To cross me with a syllable for your souls;
 Murmur, nor think against it, but weigh well,
 It will not help your ill, but help to more,
 And that my hand wrought thus far to my will,
 Will check at nothing till his circle fill.
Mat. Fill it, so I consent not, but who sooths it
 Consents, and who consents to tyrannie, does it.
Rol. False traytress die then with him.
Aub. Are you mad, to offer at more blood, and make your self
 More horrid to your people? I'le proclaim,
 It is not as your instrument will publish.
Rol. Do, and take that along with you—so nimble!
 Resign my sword, and dare not for thy soul
 To offer what thou insolently threatnest;
 One word, proclaiming cross to what Latorch
 Hath in Commission, and intends to publish.
Aub. Well, Sir, not for your threats, but for your good,
 Since more hurt to you would more hurt your Country,
 And that you must make Vertue of the need
 That now compels you, I'll consent as far
 As silence argues to your will proclaimed:
 And since no more Sons of your Princely Father
 Survive to rule but you, and that I wish
 You should rule like your Father, with the love
 And zeal of all your Subjects; this foul slaughter
 That now you have committed made ashamed
 With that fair blessing, that in place of plagues,
 Heaven trys our mending disposition with:
 Take here your sword, which now use like a Prince,
 And no more like a Tyrant.
Rol. This sounds well, live and be gracious with us.
Gis. and Bal. Oh Lord Aubrey.
Mat. He flatter thus?
Sop. He temporizes fitly.
Rol. Wonder invades me; do you two think much,
 That he thus wisely, and with need consents
 To what I authour for your Countries good?
 You being my Tutor, you my Chancellour.
Gis. Your Chancellour is not your Flatterer, Sir.
Bal. Nor is it your Tutors part to shield such doctrine.
Rol. Sir, first know you,
 In praise of your pure Oratory that rais'd you,
 That when the people, who I know by this
 Are rais'd out of their rests, and hastening hither
 To witness what is done here, are arrived
 With our Latorch, that you, ex tempore,
 Shall fashion an Oration to acquit
 And justifie this forced fact of mine;
 Or for the proud refusal lose your head.
Gis. I fashion an Oration to acquit you?
 Sir, know you then, that 'tis a thing less easie
 To excuse a parricide than to commit it.
Rol. I do not wish you, Sir, to excuse me,
 But to accuse my Brother, as the cause
 Of his own slaughter by attempting mine.
Gis. Not for the World, I should pour blood on blood;
 It were another murther to accuse
 Him that fell innocent.
Rol. Away with him, hence, hail him straight to execution.
Aub. Far flye such rigour, your amendful hand.
Rol. He perishes with him that speaks for him;
 Guard do your office on him, on your lives pain.
Gis. Tyrant, 'twill haste thy own death.
Rol. Let it wing it,
 He threatens me, Villains tear him piece-meal hence.
Guard. Avant Sir.
Ham. Force him hence.
Rol. Dispatch him, Captain,
 And bring me instant word he is dispatched,
 And how his Rhetorick takes it.
Ham. I'll not fail, Sir.
Rol. Captain, besides remember this in chief;
 That being executed, you deny
 To all his friends the Rites of Funeral,
 And cast his Carkass out to Dogs and Fowls.
Ham. 'Tis done, my Lord.
Rol. Upon your life not fail.
Bal. What impious daring is there here of Heaven!
Rol. Sir, now prepare your self, against the people
 Make here their entry, to discharge the Oration,
 He hath denied my will.
Bal. For fear of death? ha, ha, ha.
Rol. Is death ridiculous with you?
 Works misery of Age this, or thy judgment?
Bal. Judgment, false Tyrant.
Rol. You'll make no Oration then?
Bal. Not to excuse, but aggravate thy murder if thou wilt,
 Which I will so enforce, I'll make thee wreak it
 (With hate of what thou win'st by't) on thy self,
 With such another justly merited murther.
Rol. I'll answer you anon.

Enter Latorch.

Lat. The Citizens are hasting, Sir, in heaps, all full resolved,
 By my perswasion of your Brothers Treasons.
Rol. Honest Latorch.

Enter Hamond.

Ham. See, Sir, here's Gisberts head.
Rol. Good speed; was't with a Sword?
Ham. An Axe, Sir.
Rol. An Axe? 'twas vilely done, I would have had
 My own fine Headsman done it with a Sword;
 Go, take this Dotard here, and take his head
 Off with a Sword.
Ham. Your Schoolmaster?
Rol. Even he.
Bal. For teaching thee no better; 'tis the best
 Of all thy damned justices; away,
 Captain, I'll follow.
Ed. Oh stay there, Duke, and in the midst of all thy blood and fury,
 Hear a poor Maids Petitions, hear a Daughter,
 The only Daughter of a wretched Father;
 Oh stay your haste as you shall need this mercy.
Rol. Away with this fond woman.
Ed. You must hear me
 If there be any spark of pity in you,
 If sweet humanity and mercy rule you;
 I do confess you are a Prince, your anger
 As great as you, your Execution greater.
Rol. Away with him.
Ed. Oh Captain, by thy manhood,
 By her soft soul that bare thee, I do confess, Sir,
 Your doom of justice on your foes most righteous;
 Good noble Prince look on me.
Rol. Take her from me.
Ed. A curse upon his life that hinders me;
 May Fathers Blessing never fall upon him,
 May Heaven never hear his Prayers: I beseech you,
 Oh Sir, these few tears beseech you; these chast hands woo you,
 That never yet were heav'd but to things holy,
 Things like your self, you are a god above us;
 Be as a God then, full of saving mercy;
 Mercy, Oh mercy, for his sake mercy;
 That when your stout heart weeps shall give you pity;
 Here I must grow.
Rol. By Heaven, I'll strike thee, woman.
Ed. Most willingly, let all thy anger seek me,
 All the most studied torments, so this good man,
 This old man, and this innocent escape thee.
Rol. Carry him away I say.
Ed. Now blessing on thee, Oh sweet pity,
 I see it in thy Eyes, I charge you Souldiers
 Even by the Princes power, release my Father,
 The Prince is merciful, why do you hold him?
 He is old, why do you hurt him? speak, Oh speak, Sir;
 Speak as you are a man; a mans life hangs, Sir,
 A friends life, and a foster life upon you:
 'Tis but a word, but mercy quickly spoke, Sir;
 Oh speak, Prince, speak.
Rol. Will no man here obey me?
 Have I no rule yet? as I live he dyes
 That does not execute my will, and suddenly.
Bal. All that thou canst do takes but one short hour from me.
Rol. Hew off her hands.
Ham. Lady hold off.
Ed. Nay, hew 'em,
 Hew off my innocent hands as he commands you.

[Exeunt Guard, Count Baldwin.

They'll hang the faster on for Deaths convulsion.
 Thou seed of Rocks, will nothing move thee then?
 Are all my tears lost? all my righteous Prayers
 Drown'd in thy drunken wrath? I stand thus then,
 Thus boldly, bloody Tyrant,
 And to thy face in Heavens high Name defie thee;
 And may sweet mercy when thy soul sighs for it,
 When under thy black mischiefs thy flesh trembles,
 When neither strength, nor youth, nor friends, nor gold
 Can stay one hour, when thy most wretched Conscience
 Wak'd from her dream of death, like fire shall melt thee,
 When all thy Mothers tears, thy Brothers wounds,
 Thy Peoples fears and curses, and my loss,
 My aged fathers loss shall stand before thee.
Rol. Save him I say, run, save him, save her Father,
 Fly, and redeem his head. [Exit Latorch.
Ed. May then that pity,
 That comfort thou expect'st from Heaven, that mercy
 Be lockt up from thee, fly thee, howling find thee,
 Despair, Oh my sweet father, storms of terrours,
 Blood till thou burst again.
Rol. Oh fair sweet anger.

Enter Latorch and Hamond with a Head.

Lat. I am too late, Sir, 'twas dispatch'd before,
 And his Head is here.
Rol. And my Heart there; go bury him,
 Give him fair Rites of Funeral, decent Honours.
Ed. Wilt thou not take me, Monster? highest Heaven
 Give him a punishment fit for his mischief.
Lat. I fear thy Prayer is heard, and he rewarded:
 Lady, have patience, 'twas unhappy speed;
 Blame not the Duke, 'twas not his fault, but Fates;
 He sent, you know, to stay it, and commanded
 In care of you, the heavy object hence
 Soon as it came: have better thoughts of him.

Enter Citizens.

1 Cit. Where's this young Traytor?
Lat. Noble Citizens, here,
 And here the wounds he gave your soveraign Lord.
1 Cit. This Prince of force must be
 Belov'd of Heaven, whom Heaven hath thus preserv'd.
2 Cit. And if he be belov'd of Heaven, you know,
 He must be just, and all his actions so.
Rol. Concluded like an Oracle, Oh how great
 A grace of Heaven is a wise Citizen!
 For Heaven 'tis makes 'em wise, as't makes me just,
 As it preserves me, as I now survive
 By his strong hand to keep you all alive:
 Your Wives, your Children, Goods and Lands kept yours,
 That had been else preys to his tyrannous Power,
 That would have prey'd on me, in Bed assaulted me
 In sacred time of Peace; my Mother here,
 My Sister, this just Lord, and all had felt
 The certain Gulph of this Conspiracy,
 Of which my Tutor and my Chancellour,
 (Two of the gravest, and most counted honest
 In all my Dukedom) were the monstrous Heads;
 Oh trust no honest men for their sakes ever,
 My politick Citizens, but those that breathe
 The Names of Cut-throats, Usurers and Tyrants,
 Oh those believe in, for the foul-mouth'd World
 Can give no better terms to simple goodness:
 Even me it dares blaspheme, and thinks me tyrannous
 For saving my own life sought by my Brother;
 Yet those that sought his life before by poyson
 (Though mine own servants, hoping to please me)
 I'll lead to death for't, which your Eyes shall see.
1 Cit. Why, what a Prince is here!
2 Cit. How just!
3 Cit. How gentle!
Rol. Well, now my dearest Subjects, or much rather
 My Nerves, my Spirits, or my vital Blood;
 Turn to your needful rests, and setled peace,
 Fix'd in this root of steel, from whence it sprung
 In Heavens great help and Blessing: but ere sleep
 Bind in his sweet oblivion your dull senses,
 The Name and Vertue of Heavens King advance
 For yours, in chief, for my deliverance.
Cit. Heaven and his King save our most pious Soveraign.

[Exeunt Citizens.

Rol. Thanks my good people. Mother, and kind Sister,
 And you my noble Kinsmen, things born thus
 Shall make ye all command what ever I
 Enjoy in this my absolute Empire,
 Take in the Body of my Princely Brother,
 For whose Death, since his Fate no other way
 Would give my eldest birth his supream Right;
 We'll mourn the cruel influence it bears,
 And wash his Sepulchre with kindly tears.
Aub. If this game end thus, Heavens will rule the set.
 What we have yielded to, we could not let.

[Exeunt omnes prÆter Latorch, and Edith.

Lat. Good Lady rise, and raise your Spirits withal,
 More high than they are humbled; you have cause,
 As much as ever honour'd happiest Lady;
 And when your Ears are freer to take in
 Your most amendful and unmatched fortunes,
 I'll make you drown a hundred helpless deaths
 In Sea of one life pour'd into your Bosome;
 With which shall flow into your arms, the Riches,
 The Pleasures, Honours, and the rules of Princes;
 Which though death stop your ears, methinks should open 'em,
 Assay to forget death.
Ed. Oh slaughter'd Father.
Lat. Taste of what cannot be redress'd, and bless
 The Fate that yet you curse so; since for that
 You spake so movingly, and your sweet eyes
 With so much Grace fill'd, that you set on fire
 The Dukes affection, whom you now may rule
 As he rules all his Dukedome, is't not sweet?
 Does it not shine away your sorrows Clouds?
 Sweet Lady, take wise heart, and hear and tell me.
Ed. I hear no word you speak.
Lat. Prepare to hear then,
 And be not barr'd up from your self, nor add
 To your ill fortune with your far worse judgment;
 Make me your servant to attend with all joys,
 Your sad estate, till they both bless and speak it:
 See how they'll bow to you, make me wait, command me
 To watch out every minute, for the stay
 Your modest sorrow fancies, raise your graces,
 And do my hopes the honour of your motion,
 To all the offered heights that now attend you:
 Oh how your touches ravish! how the Duke
 Is slain already with your flames embrac'd!
 I will both serve and visit you, and often.
Ed. I am not fit, Sir.
Lat. Time will make you, Lady.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter the Guard, 3 or 4 Boys, then the Sheriff, Cook, Yeoman of the Cellar, Butler, Pantler to execution.

1 Guard. Come, bring in these fellows, on, away with 'em.
2 Guard. Make room before there, room for the Prisoners.
1 Boy. Let's run before, Boys, we shall have no places else.
2 Boy. Are these the youths?
Cook. These are the youths you look for,
 And, pray my honest friends, be not so hasty,
 There will be nothing done till we come, I assure you.
3 Boy. Here's a wise hanging; are there no more?
Butl. Do you hear, Sir? you may come in for your share
 if you please.
Cook. My friend, if you be unprovided of a hanging,
 You look like a good fellow, I can afford you
 A reasonable penny-worth.
2 Boy. Afore, afore, Boys, here's enough to make us sport.
Yeom. 'Pox take you,
 Do you call this sport? are these your recreations?
 Must we be hang'd to make you mirth?
Cook. Do you hear?
 You Custard Pate, we go to't for high Treason,
 An honourable fault: thy foolish Father
 Was hang'd for stealing Sheep.
Boys. Away, away, Boys.
Cook. Do you see how that sneaking Rogue looks now?
 You, Chip, Pantler, you peaking Rogue, that provided us
 these Necklaces; you poor Rogue, you costive Rogue, you.
Pant. Pray, pray, fellows.
Cook. 'Pray for thy crusty soul? where's your reward now,
 Goodman Manchet, for your fine discovery?
 I do beseech you, Sir, where are your Dollers?
 Draw with your fellows and be hang'd.
Yeom. He must now;
 For now he shall be hang'd first, that's his comfort,
 A place too good for thee, thou meal-mouth'd Rascal.
Coo. Hang handsomly for shame, come, leave your praying,
 You peaking Knave, and dye like a good Courtier,
 Dye honestly, and like a man; no preaching,
 With I beseech you take example by me,
 I liv'd a lewd man, good People. 'Pox on't,
 Dye me as if thou hadst din'd, say Grace, and God be with you.
Guard. Come, will you forward?
Cook. Good Mr. Sheriff, your leave, this hasty work
 Was ne'r done well; give us so much time as but to sing
 Our own Ballads, for we'll trust no man,
 Nor no tune but our own; 'twas done in Ale too,
 And therefore cannot be refus'd in Justice.
 Your penny-pot Poets are such pelting thieves,
 They ever hang men twice; we have it here, Sir,
 And so must every Merchant of our Voyage.
 He'll make a sweet return else of his Credit.
Yeom. One fit of our own mirth, and then we are for you.
Guard. Make haste then, dispatch.
Yeom. There's day enough, Sir.
Cook. Come, Boys, sing chearfully, we shall ne'r sing younger.
 We have chosen a loud tune too, because it should like well.
The SONG.
Come, For[t]une's a Whore, I care not who tell her,
 Would offer to strangle a Page of the Celler,
 That should by his Oath to any Mans thinking,
 And place, have had a defence for his drinking;
 But thus she does still, when she pleases to palter,
 Instead of his Wages, she gives him a Halter.
Three merry Boys, and three merry Boys, and three merry Boys are we,
 As ever did sing in a hempen string under the Gallow-tree.
II.
But I that was so lusty,
 And ever kept my Bottles,
 That neither they were musty,
 And seldome less than Pottles;
 For me to be thus stopt now,
 With Hemp instead of Cork, Sir,
 And from the Gallows lopt now,
 Shews that there is a fork, Sir,
 In death, and this the token,
 Man may be two ways killed,
 Or like the Bottle, broken,
 Or like the Wine, be spilled.
Three merry Boys, &c.
III.
Oh yet but look on the Master Cook, the glory of the Kitchin,
 In sowing whose fate, at so lofty a rate, no Taylor e'r had stitching,
 For though he makes the Man, the Cook yet makes the Dishes,
 The which no Taylor can, wherein I have my wishes,
 That I who at so many a Feast, have pleas'd so many tasters,
 Should now my self come to be drest, a dish for you my Masters.
Three merry Boys, &c.
Cook. There's a few Copies for you; now farewel friends:
 And good Mr. Sheriff let me not be printed
 With a brass Pot on my head.
But. March fair, march fair, afore, good Captain Pantler.
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.

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?
Lat. It is to whosoever mislikes of the Dukes courses.
Aub. I! is't so? at your stateward, Sir?
Lat. I'm sworn to hear nothing may prejudice the Prince.
Aub. Why do you? or have you, ha?
Lat. I cannot tell, mens hearts shew in their words sometimes.
Aub. I ever thought thee
 Knave of the Chamber, art thou the Spye too?
Lat. A watchman for the State, and one that's known,
 Sir, to be rightly affected.
Aub. Bawd of the State;
 No less than of thy masters lusts. I now
 See nothing can redeem thee; dost thou mention
 Affection, or a Heart, that ne'r hadst any?
 Knowst not to love or hate, but by the State,
 As thy Prince does't before thee? that dost never
 Wear thy own face, but put'st on his, and gather'st
 Baits for his Ears: liv'st wholly at his beck,
 And e're thou dar'st utter a thought's thine own,
 Must expect his; creep'st forth and wad'st into him
 As if thou wert to pass a Ford, there proving
 Yet if thy tongue may step on safely or no;
 Then bring'st his vertue asleep, and stay'st the wheel
 Both of his reason and judgment, that they move not,
 Whit'st over all his vices; and at last
 Dost draw a Cloud of words before his eyes,
 Till he can neither see thee nor himself?
 Wretch, I dare give him honest counsels, I,
 And love him while I tell him truth; old Aubrey
 Dares goe the straightest way, which still's the shortest,
 Walk on the thorns thou scatter'st, Parasite,
 And tread 'em into nothing: and if thou
 Then let'st a look fall, of the least dislike,
 I'll rip thy Crown up with my Sword at height,
 And pluck thy skin over thy face, in sight
 Of him thou flatter'st; unto thee I speak it,
 Slave, against whom all Laws should now conspire,
 And every Creature that hath sense, be arm'd,
 As 'gainst the common Enemy of Mankind;
 That sleep'st within thy Masters Ear, and whisper'st
 'Tis better for him to be fear'd than lov'd;
 Bid'st him trust no mans friendship, spare no blood
 That may secure him: 'tis no cruelty
 That hath a specious end; for Soveraignty
 Break all the Laws of kind; if it succeed,
 An honest, noble, and praise-worthy deed;
 While he that takes thy poysons in, shall feel
 Their virulent workings in a point of time,
 When no Repentance can bring aid, but all
 His spirits shall melt, with what his Conscience burn'd,
 And dying in flatterers arms, shall fall unmourn'd.
 There's matter for you now.
Lat. My Lord, this makes not for loving of my Master.
Aub. Loving? no;
 They hate ill Princes most that make them so.

Enter Rollo, Hamond, Allan, Guard.

Rol. I'll hear no more.
Ham. Alas, 'tis for my Brother: I beseech your Highness.
Rol. How, a Brother? had not I one my self? did title
 Move me when it was fit that he should dye? away.
All. Brother, lose no word more, leave my good Cause
 T' upbraid the Tyrant, I'm glad I'm faln
 Now in those times that will'd some great example
 T' assure men we can dye for honesty.
Rol. Sir, you are brave, 'pray that you hold your neck
 As bravely forth anon unto your Headsman.
All. Would he would strike as bravely, and thou by,
 Rollo, 'twould make thee quake to see me dye.
Aub. What's his offence?
Ham. For giving Gisbert burial, who was sometimes his Master.
All. Yes, Lord Aubrey,
 My gratitude and humanity are my crimes.
Rol. Why bear you him not hence?
Aub. My Lord, (stay Souldiers)
 I do beseech your Highness, do not lose
 Such men for such slight causes. This is one
 Has still been faithful to you, a try'd soul
 In all your fathers Battles; I have seen him
 Bestride a friend against a score of Foes,
 And look, he looks as he would kill his hundred
 For you, Sir, were you in some danger.
All. Till he kill'd his Brother, his Chancellour, then his
 Master, to which he can add nought to equal Nero,
 But killing of his Mother.
Aub. Peace, brave Fool,
 Thou valiant Ass: here is his Brother too, Sir,
 A Captain of your Guard, hath serv'd you long,
 With the most noble witness of his truth
 Mark'd in his face, and every part about him,
 That turns not from an enemy. But view him,
 Oh do not grieve him, Sir, if you do mean
 That he shall hold his place: it is not safe
 To tempt such spirits, and let them wear their Swords,
 You'll make your Guards your terrours by these Acts,
 And throw more hearts off from you than you hold;
 And I must tell you, Sir, (with my old freedom,
 And my old faith to boot) you have not liv'd so
 But that your state will need such men, such hands
 Of which here's one, shall in an hour of tryal,
 Do you more certain service with a stroke,
 Than the whole bundle of your flatterers
 With all the unsavory unction of their tongues.
Rol. Peace, talker.
Aub. One that loves you yet, my Lord,
 And would not see you pull on your own ruines.
 Mercy becomes a Prince, and guards him best,
 Awe and affrights are never tyes of Love;
 And when men begin to fear the Prince, they hate him.
Rol. Am I the Prince, or you?
Aub. My Lord, I hope I have not utter'd ought should
 urge that question.
Rol. Then practise your obedience, see him dead.
Aub. My Lord?
Rol. I'll hear no more.
Aub. I'm sorry then; there's no small despair, Sir, of their
 Safety, whose ears are blockt up against truth; come, captain.
Ham. I thank you, Sir.
Aub. For what? for seeing thy brother die a man, and honest?
 Live thou so, Captain, I will assure thee,
 Although I die for't too; come— [Ex. all but Rol. & Lat.
Rol. Now Latorch, what do you think?
Lat. That Aubrey's speech and manners sound somewhat of the boldest.
Rol. 'Tis his custome.
Lat. It may be so, and yet be worth a fear.
Rol. If we thought so, it should be worth his life, and quickly too.
Lat. I dare not, Sir, be authour
 Of what I would be, 'tis so dangerous:
 But with your Highness favour and your licence.
Rol. He talks, 'tis true; he is licens'd: leave him,
 We now are Duke alone, Latorch, secur'd;
 Nothing left standing to obscure our prospect,
 We look right forth, beside, and round about us,
 And see it ours with pleasure: only one
 Wish'd joy there wants to make us to possess it,
 And that is Edith, Edith, she that got me
 In blood and tears, in such an opposite minute,
 As had I not at once felt all the flames
 And shafts of Love shot in me (his whole armory)
 I should have thought him as far off as Death.
Lat. My Lord, expect a while, your happiness
 Is nearer than you think it, yet her griefs
 Are green and fresh, your vigilant Latorch
 Hath not been idle; I have leave already
 To visit her, and send to her.
Rol. My life.
Lat. And if I find not out as speedy ways,
 And proper instruments to work and bring her
 To your fruition; that she be not watch'd
 Tame to your Highness wish, say you have no servant
 Is capable of such a trust about you,
 Or worthy to be Secretary of your pleasure.
Rol. Oh my Latorch, what shall I render thee
 For all thy travels, care, and love?
Lat. Sir, one suit, which I will ever importune, till you grant me.
Rol. About your Mathematicians?
Lat. Yes, to have
 The Scheme of your Nativity judg'd by them,
 I have't already erected; O my Lord,
 You do not know the labour of my fears,
 My doubts for you are such as cannot hope
 Any security, but from the Stars;
 Who, being rightly ask'd, can tell man more
 Than all power else, there being no power beyond them.
Rol. All thy petitions still are care of us,
 Ask for thy self.
Lat. What more can concern me, than this?
Rol. Well, rise true honest man, and go then,
 We'l study our selves a means how to reward thee.
Lat. Your grace is now inspir'd; now, now your highness
 Begins to live, from this hour count your joyes:
 But, Sir, I must have warrants, with blanks figur'd,
 To put in names, such as I like.
Rol. You shall.
Lat. They dare not else offer, Sir, at your figure?
 Oh I shall bring you wonders; there's a Frier
 Rusee, an admirable man, another
 A Gentleman, and then Lafiske,
 The mirrour of his time; 'twas he that set it.
 But there's one Norbret, (him I never saw)
 Has made a mirrour, a meer Looking-glass,
 In shew you'ld think't no other; the form oval,
 As I am given to understand by letter,
 Which renders you such shapes, and those so differing,
 And some that will be question'd and give answers;
 Then has he set it in a frame, that wrought
 Unto the revolutions of the Stars,
 And so compact by due proportions
 Unto their harmony, doth move alone
 A true automaton; thus DÆdalus Statues,
 Or Vulcans Tools—
Rol. Dost thou believe this?
Lat. Sir? why, what should stay my faith, or turn my sense?
 He has been about it above twenty years,
 Three sevens, the powerfull, and the perfect numbers;
 And Art and time, Sir, can produce such things.
 What do I read there of Hiarbas banquet?
 The great Gymnosophist, that had his Butlers
 And carvers of pure gold waiting at table?
 The images of Mercury, too, that spoke?
 The wooden door that flew? a snake of brass
 That hist? and birds of Silver that did sing?
 All those new done by the Mathematicks,
 Without which there's no science, nor no truth.
Rol. You are in your sphear, Latorch: and rather
 Than I'le contend w'ye for it, I'le believe it,
 Y'have won upon me that I wish to see
 My fate before me now, what e're it be.
Lat. And I'le endeavour, you shall know with speed,
 For which I should have one of trust go with me,
 If you please, Hamond, that I may by him
 Send you my first dispatches; after I
 Shall bring you more, and as they come still more.
Rol. Take your way,
 Choose your own means, and be it prosperous to us.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Rusee, de Bube, la Fiske, Norbret, Pippeau.

Rus. Come, bear up Sirs, we shall have better days,
 My Almanack tells me.
Bub. What is that? your rump?
Rus. It never itch'd in vain yet, slide la Fiske,
 Throw off thy sluggish face, I cannot abide
 To see thee look like a poor Jade i'th' pound,
 That saw no meat these three days.
Fiske. 'Slight, to me
 It seems thirteen dayes since I saw any.
Rus. How?
Fis. I can't remember that I ever saw
 Or meat or mony, you may talk of both
 To open a mans stomach or his purse,
 But feed 'em still with air.
Bub. Friar, I fear
 You do not say your Office well a dayes.
Nor. Pox, he feeds
 With leachery, and lives upon th' exchange
 Of his two Eggs and Puddings with the market women.
Rus. And what do you Sir, with the Advocates wife,
 Whom you perswade, upon your Doctoral bed,
 To take the Mathematical trance so often?
Fis. Come, we are stark naught all, bad's the best of us,
 Four of the seven deadly spots we are;
 Besides our Leachery, we are envious,
 And most, most gluttonous when we have it thus,
 Most covetous now we want it; then our Boy
 He is a fifth spot, sloth and he undoes us.
Bub. 'Tis true, the child was wont to be industrious,
 And now and then sent to a Merchants wife
 Sick of the Husband, or a swearing Butler
 That mist of his Bowls, a crying Maid
 Had lost a Silver spoon; the Curry comb
 Sometimes was wanting; there was something gotten;
 But now—
Pip. What now? Did not I yester-morning
 Bring you in a Cardecu there from the Peasant,
 Whose ass I had driven aside, and hid, that you
 Might conjure for him? and then last night,
 Six Soulz from the Cooks wife, you shar'd among you
 To set a figure for the Pestle I stole,
 It is not at home yet; these things, my Masters,
 In a hard time, they would be thought on: you
 Talk of your lands and Castles in the air,
 Of your twelve houses there: but it is I
 That bring you in your rents for 'em, 'tis Pippeau
 That is your bird-call.
Nor. Faith he does well,
 And cuts through the Elements for us, I must needs say
 In a fine dextrous line.
Fis. But not as he did
 At first, then he would sail with any wind
 Int' every Creek and Corner.
Pip. I was light then,
 New built and rigg'd when I came to you, Gentlemen,
 But now with often and far venturing for you
 Here be leaks sprung, and whole Planks wanting see you;
 If you'l new sheath me again, yet I am for you
 To any bog or sleights, where e're you'l send me,
 For as I am, where can this ragged Bark
 Put in for any service; 'less it be
 O'th' Isle of Rogues, and there turn Pirate for you.
Nor. Faith he says reason, Fryer, you must leave
 Your neat crisp Claret, and fall to your Cyder
 A while; and you la Fiske, your larded Capons
 And Turkys for a time, and take a good
 Clean Tripe in your way; de Bube too must content him with
 wholsom two souz'd petitoes, no more Crown Ordinaries,
 till we have cloath'd our Infant.
Bub. So you'l keep
 Your own good motions, Doctor, your dear self.
Fis. Yes, for we all do know the Latitude
 Of your Concupiscence.
Rus. Here about your belly.
Bub. You'l pick a bottle open or a whimsey,
 As soon as the best of us.
 Fis. And dip your wrist-bands,
 (For Cuffs y'have none) as comely in the sauce [The Bell rings.
 As any Courtier—hark, the Bell, who is there?
Rus. Good luck I do conjure thee; Boy look out.
Pip. They are Gallants, courtiers, one of 'em is

[Exit and enter again.

Of the Dukes bed-chamber.
Rus. Latorch, down,
 On with your gown, there's a new suite arriv'd, [To Norbret.
 Did I not tell you, Sons of hunger? Crowns,
 Crowns are coming toward you, wine and wenches
 You shall have once again, and Fidlers:
 Into your studyes close; each lay his ear
 To his door, and as you hear me to prepare you
 So come, and put me on that visard only.

Enter Latorch, Hamond.

Lat. You'l not be far hence Captain, when the
 Business is done you shall receive present dispatch.
Ham. I'le walk Sir, in the Cloyster. [Exit.
Rus. Monsieur Latorch; my Son,
 The Stars are happy still that guide you hither.
Lat. I'me glad to hear their Secretary say so,
 My learned Father Russe, where's la Fiske,
 Monsieur de Bube, how do they?
Rus. At their studyes,
 They are the Secretaries of the Stars, Sir,
 Still at their books, they will not be pull'd off,
 They stick like cupping glasses; if ever men
 Spoke with the tongue of destiny, 'tis they.
Lat. For loves sake let's salute 'em.
Rus. Boy, go see,
 Tell them who's here, say, that their friends do challenge
 Some portion of their time, this is our minute,
 Pray 'em they'l spare it: they are the Sun and Moon
 Of knowledge; pity two such noble lights
 Should live obscur'd here in an University,
 Whose beams were fit to'illumine any court
 Of Christendom.

Enter la Fisk, de Bube, and Pippeau.

Lat. The Duke will shortly know 'em.
Fis. Well, look upon the Astrolabe; you'l find it
 Four Almucanturies at least.
Bub. It is so.
Rus. Still of their learned stuff, they care for nothing,
 But how to know, as negli[g]ent of their bodies
 In dyet, or else, especially in their cloaths,
 As if they had no change.
Pip. They have so little
 As well may free them from the name of shifters.
Fis. Monsieur Latorch?
Lat. How is it, learned Gentlemen, with both your vertues?
Bub. A most happy hour, when we see you, Sir.
Lat. When you hear me then
 It will be happier; the Duke greets you both
 Thus, and though you may touch no mony, Father,
 Yet you may take it.
Rus. 'Tis his highness bounty,
 But yet to me, and these that have put off
 The world, superfluous.
Fis. We have heard of late of his highness good success.
Bub. And gratulate it.
Lat. Indeed he hath scap'd a strange Conspiracy,
 Thanks to his Stars; which Stars he prayes by me,
 You would again consult, and make a Judgement
 On what you lately erected for my love.
Rus. Oh, Sir, we dare not.
Fis. For our lives.
Bub. It is the Princes Scheam.
Lat. T'incounter with that fear,
 Here's to assure you, his Signet, write your names,
 And be secured all three.
Bu[b]. We must intreat some time, Sir.
Lat. I must then intreat it, be as present as you can.
Fis. Have you the Scheam here?
Lat. Yes.
Rus. I would you had Sir another warrant.
Lat. What would that do?
Rus. Marry we have a Doctor Sir, that in this business
 Would not perform the second part.
Lat. Not him that you writ to me of?
Rus. The very same.
Lat. I should have made it, Sir, my suit to see him,
 Here is a warrant Father, I conceiv'd
 That he had solely applyed himself to Magick.
Rus. And to their studies too Sir, in this field
 He was initiated, but we shall hardly
 Draw him from his chair.
Lat. Tell him he shall have gold.
Fis. Oh, such a syllable would make him to forswear
 Ever to breath in your sight.
Lat. How then?
Fis. Sir, he if you do please to give him any thing,
 Must have't convey'd under a paper.
Rus. Or left behind some book in his study.
Bub. Or in some old wall.
Fis. Where his familiars may tell him of it, and that pleases him, Sir.
Bub. Or else I'le go and assay him.
Lat. Take gold with you.
Rus. That will not be amiss; give it the Boy, Sir,
 He knows his holes, and how to bait his Spirits.
Pip. We must lay in several places, Sir.
Rus. That's true, that if one come not, the other may hit.
Lat. Well, go then, is he so learned, Gentlemen?
Fis. The very top of our profession; mouth of the fates,
 Pray Heaven his Spirits be in a good humor to take,
 They'l fling the gold about the house else.
Bub. I, and beat the Fryer if he go not well
 Furnisht with holy-water.
Fis. Sir, you must observe him.
Bub. Not cross him in a word, for then he's gone.
Fis. If he do come, which is a hazard, yet—
 Mass he's here, this is speed.

Enter Norb[re]t, Russ, Pippeau.

Nor. Where is our Scheme,
 Let's see, dispatch, nay fumbling now, who's this?
Rus. Chief Gentleman of the Dukes Chamber, Doctor.
Nor. Oh, let him be, good even to him, he's a courtier,
 I'le spare his complement, tell him: what's here?
 The geniture Nocturnal, Longitude
 At forty nine and ten minutes? How are the cardins?
Fis. Libra in twenty four, forty four minutes,
 And Capricorn.
Nor. I see it, see the Planets,
 Where, how are they dispos'd? the Sun and Mercury,
 Mars with the Dragons tail in the third house,
 And pars FortunÆ in the Imo Coeli,
 Then Jupiter in the twelfth, the Cacodemon.
Bub. And Venus in the second Inferna Porta.
Nor. I see it, peace, then Saturn in the Fifth,
 Luna i'th' Seventh, and much of Scorpio,
 Then Mars his Gaudium, rising in th'ascendent,
 And joyn'd with Libra too, the house of Venus,
 And [Imum] Coeli, Mars his exaltation
 In the seventh house, Aries being his natural house
 And where he is now seated, and all these shew him
 To be the Almuten.
Rus. Yes, he's Lord of the Geniture,
 Whether you examine it by Ptolomeys way,
 Or Messethales, Lael, or Alkindus.
Fis. No other Planet hath so many dignities
 Either by himself, or in regard of the Cusps.
Nor. Why hold your tongue then if you know it; Venus
 The Lady of the Horoscope, being Libra,
 The other part, Mars rules: So that the geniture,
 Being Nocturnal, Luna is the highest,
 None else being in sufficient dignity,
 She being in Aries in the Seventh house,
 Where Sol exalted, is the Alchoroden.
Bub. Yes, for you see he hath his Termin
 In the degrees where she is, and enjoyes
 By that, six dignities.
Fis. Which are clearly more
 Than any else that view her in the Scheam.
Nor. Why I saw this, and could have told you too,
 That he beholds her with a Trine aspect
 Here out of Sagittary, almost partile,
 And how that Mars out of the self same house,
 (But another Sign) here by a Platique aspect
 Looks at the Hilege, with a Quartile ruling
 The house where the Sun is; all this could I
 Have told you, but that you'll outrun me; and more,
 That this same Quartile aspect to the Lady of life,
 Here in the seventh, promises some danger,
 Cauda Draconis being so near Mars,
 And Caput Algol in the house of Death.
Lat. How, Sir? I pray you clear that.
Nor. What is the question first?
Rus. Of the Dukes life, what dangers threaten him?
Nor. Apparent, and those suddain, when the Hyley
 Or Alchorodon by direction come
 To a Quartile opposition of the place
 Where Mars is in the Geniture (which is now
 At hand) or else oppose to Mars himself; expect it.
Lat. But they may be prevented.
Nor. Wisdom only
 That rules the Stars, may do it; for Mars being
 Lord of the Geniture in Capricorn,
 Is, if you mark it, now a Sextile here,
 With Venus Lady of the Horoscope.
 So she being in her Exilium, which is Scorpio,
 And Mars his Gaudium, is o'rerul'd by him,
 And clear debilitated five degrees
 Beneath her ordinary power, so
 That, at the most she can but mitigate.
Lat. You cannot name the persons bring this danger?
Nor. No, that the Stars tell us not, they name no man,
 That is a work, Sir, of another place.
Rus. Tell him whom you suspect, and he'll guess shrewdly.
Lat. Sir, we do fear one Aubrey; if 'twere he
 I should be glad; for we should soon prevent him.
Fis. I know him, the Dukes Kinsman, a tall man?
 Lay hold of't Norbret.
Nor. Let me pause a little,
 Is he not near of kin unto the Duke?
Lat. Yes, reverend Sir.
Nor. 'Fart for your reverence, keep it till then; and somewhat high of stature?
Lat. He is so.
Nor. How old is he?
Fis. About seven and fifty.
Nor. His head and beard inclining to be grey.
Lat. Right, Sir.
Fis. And fat?
Nor. He is somewhat corpulent, is he not?
Lat. You speak the man, Sir.
Nor. Well, look to him, farewel. [Exit Norb.
Lat. Oh, it is Aubrey; Gentlemen, I pray you,
 Let me receive this under all your hands.
Rus. Why, he will shew you him in his Magick glass
 If you intreat him, and but gratifie
 A spirit or two more.
Lat. He shall eat gold
 If he will have it, so shall you all; there's that
 Amongst you first, let me have this to send
 The Duke in the mean time; and then what sights
 You please to shew; I'le have you so rewarded
 As never Artists were, you shall to Court
 Along with me, and there wait you[r] fortunes.
Bub. We have a pretty part of't in our pockets;
 Boy we will all be new, you shall along too. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Sophia, Matilda, and Edith.

Mat. Good Madam, hear the suit that Edith urges,
 With such submiss beseeches; nor remain
 So strictly bound to sorrow for your son,
 That nothing else, though never so befitting,
 Obtains your ears, or observation.
Sop. What would she say? I hear.
Edith. My suit is, Madam,
 That you would please to think as well of justice
 Due to your sons revenge, as of more wrong added
 To both your selves for it, in only grieving.
 Th' undaunted power of Princes should not be
 Confin'd in deedless cold calamity;
 Anger, the Twin of sorrow, in your wrongs
 Should not be smother'd, when his right of birth
 Claims th' Air as well, and force of coming forth.
Sop. Sorrow is due already, anger never
 Should be conceived but where it may [be] born
 In some fact fit t'employ his active flame,
 That else consumes who bears it, and abides
 Like a false star that quenches as it glides.
Ed. I have such means t'employ it as your wish
 Can think no better, easier, or securer;
 And such as but th' honours I intend
 To your partakings, I alone could end:
 But your parts in all dues to crying blood
 For vengeance in the shedder, are much greater:
 And therefore should work your hands to his slaughter.
 For your consent to which, 'twere infinite wrong
 To your severe and most impartial justice,
 To move you to forget so false a son
 As with a Mothers duty made you curse him.
Mat. Edith, he is forgot, for any son
 Born of my Mother, or to me a Brother.
 For should we still perform our rights to him
 We should partake his wrongs, and as foul be
 In blood and damned parricide as he.
 And therefore tell the happy means that Heaven
 Puts in thy hand, for all our long'd for freedom
 From so abhorr'd and impious a monster.
Sop. Tell what she will, I'le lend nor hand nor ear
 To whatsoever Heaven puts in her power. [Exit Sophia.
Mat. How strange she is to what she chiefly wishes!
 Sweet Edith be not any thought the more
 Discourag'd in thy purpose, but assured,
 Her heart and prayers are thine; and that we two
 Shall be enough to all we wish to do.
Edith. Madam, my self alone, I make no doubt
 Shall be afforded power enough from Heaven
 To end the murtherer: all I wish of you,
 Is but some richer Ornaments and Jewels
 Than I am able to provide my self,
 To help out the defects of my poor Beauty,
 That yet hath been enough, as now it is,
 To make his fancy mad with my desire.
 But you know, Madam, Women never can
 Be too fair to torment an amorous man;
 And this mans torments I would heighten still,
 Till at their highest he be fit to kill.
Mat. Thou shalt have all my Jewels and my Mothers,
 And thou shalt paint too, that his bloods desire
 May make him perish in a painted fire;
 Hast thou been with him yet?
Edith. Been with him? no;
 I set that hour back to haste more his longing;
 But I have promis'd to his instruments,
 The admittance of a visit at our house,
 Where yet I would receive him with all lustre
 My sorrow would give leave to, to remove
 Suspicion of my purpose.
Mat. Thou shalt have
 All I can add, sweet wench, in Jewels, tyres,
 I'le be my self thy dresser; nor may I
 Serve my own love with a contracted Husband
 More sweetly, nor more amply than maist thou
 Thy forward will with his bewitch'd affections:
 Affect'st thou any personal aid of mine
 My noblest Edith?
Edith. Nought but your kind prayers
 For full effect and speed of my affair.
Mat. They are thine, my Edith, as for me, my own;
 For thou well know'st, if blood shed of the best
 Should cool and be forgotten, who would fear
 To shed blood still? or where, alas, were then
 The endless love we owe to worthy men?
Ed. Love of the worthiest ever bless your highness. [Exe.

Enter Rollo with a glass, Aubrey, and Servants.

Rol. I never studied my glass till now,
 It is exceeding well; now leave me; Cousin,
 How takes your eye the object?
Aub. I have learn'd
 So much Sir of the Courtier, as to say
 Your person does become your habit;
 But being called unto it by a noble War,
 Would grace an armour better.
Rol. You are still
 For that great Art of which you are the Master;
 Yet I must tell you, that to the encounters
 We oft attempt, arm'd only thus, we bring
 As troubled blood, fears mixt with flatt'ring hopes,
 The danger in the service too as great,
 As when we are to charge quite through and through
 The body of an Army.
Aub. I'le not argue
 How you may rank the dangers, but will die in't,
 The ends which they arrive at, are as distant
 In every circumstance, as far as honour
 Is from shame and repentance.
Rol. You are sowr?
Aub. I would speak my free thoughts, yet not appear so;
 Nor am I so ambitious of the title
 Of one that dares talk any thing that was
 Against the torrent of his own opinion,
 That I affect to speak ought may offend you:
 And therefore gracious Sir, be pleas'd to think
 My manners or discretion have inform'd me
 That I was born, in all good ends, to serve you:
 And not to check at what concerns me not:
 I look not with sore eyes on your rich out-side,
 Nor rack my thoughts to find out to what purpose
 'Tis now employ'd; I wish it may be good,
 And that, I hope, offends not for a subject
 Towards his Prince in things indifferent;
 To use the austereness of a censuring Cato
 Is arrogance, not freedom.
Rol. I commend
 This temper in you, and will cherish it.

Enter Hamond with Letters.

They come from Rome, Latorch imployed you?
Ham. True Sir.
Rol. I must not now be troubled with a thought
 Of any new design; good Aubrey read 'em,
 And as they shall direct you, use my power,
 Or to reply or execute.
Aub. I will, Sir.
Rol. And Captain bring a squadron of our Guard
 To th' house that late was Baldwins, and there wait me.
Ham. I shall.
Rol. Some two hours hence.
Ham. With my best care.
Rol. Inspire me Love, and be thy deity,
 Or scorn'd or fear'd, as now thou favour'st me. [Exit Rollo.
Ham. My stay to do my duty, may be wrongs
 Your Lordships privacy.
Aub. Captain, your love
 Is ever welcome; I intreat your patience
 While I peruse these.
Ham. I attend your pleasure.
Aub. How's this, a plot on me?
Ham. What is contain'd
 In th' letters that I brought, that thus transports him?
Aub. To be wrought on by Rogues, and have my head
 Brought to the Axe by Knaves that cheat for bread?
 The Creatures of a Parasite, a slave;
 I find you here Latorch, not wonder at it;
 But that this honest Captain should be made
 His instrument, afflicts me; I'le make trial
 Whether his will or weakness made him do it.
 Captain you saw the Duke when he commanded
 I should do what these letters did direct me,
 And I presume you think I'le not neglect
 For fear or favour, to remove all dangers
 How near soever that man can be to me
 From whom they should have birth.
Ham. It is confirm'd.
Aub. Nor would you Captain, I believe, refuse,
 Or for respect of thankfulness, or hopes,
 To use your sword with fullest confidence
 Where he shall bid you strike.
Ham. I never have done.
Aub. Nor will I think—
Ham. I hope it is not question'd.
Aub. The means to have it so, is now propos'd you.
 Draw, so, 'tis well, and next cut off my head.
Ham. What means your Lordship?
Aub. 'Tis, Sir, the Dukes pleasure:
 My innocence hath made me dangerous,
 And I must be remov'd, and you the man
 Must act his will.
Ham. I'le be a Traytor first, before I serve it thus.
Aub. It must be done,
 And that you may not doubt it, there's your warrant,
 But as you read, remember Hamond, that
 I never wrong'd one of your brave profession;
 And, though it be not manly, I must grieve
 That man of whose love I was most ambitious
 Could find no object of his hate but me.
Ham. It is no time to talk now, honour'd Sir,
 Be pleas'd to hear thy servant, I am wrong'd,
 And cannot, being now to serve the Duke,
 Stay to express the manner how; but if
 I do not suddenly give you strong proofs,
 Your life is dearer to me than my own,
 May I live base, and dye so: Sir, your pardon. [Exit Ham.
Aub. I am both waies ruin'd, both waies mark't for slaughter
 On every side, about, behind, before me,
 My certain fate is fix't: were I a Knave now,
 I could avoid this: had my actions
 But meer relations to their own ends, I could 'scape now:
 Oh honesty! thou elder child of vertue,
 Thou seed of Heaven, why to acquire thy goodness
 Should malice and distrust stick thorns before us,
 And make us swim unto thee, hung with hazards?
 But Heaven is got by suffering, not disputing;
 Say he knew this before-hand, where am I then?
 Or say he does [not] know it, where's my Loyalty?
 I know his nature, troubled as the Sea,
 And as the Sea devouring when he's vex'd,
 And I know Princes are their own expounders.
 Am I afraid of death? of dying nobly?
 Of dying in mine innocence uprightly?
 Have I met death in all his forms, and fears,
 Now on the points of Swords, now pitch'd on Lances?
 In fires, and storms of Arrows, Battels, breaches,
 And shall I now shrink from him, when he courts me
 Smiling and full of sanctity? I'le meet him;
 My Loyal hand and heart shall give this to him,
 And though it bear beyond what Poets feign
 A punishment, duty shall meet that pain;
 And my most constant heart to do him good,
 Shall check at neither pale affright nor bloud.

Enter Messenger.

Mess. The Dutchess presently would crave your presence.
Aub. I come; and Aubrey now resolve to keep
 Thy honour living, though thy body sleep. [Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Edith, a Boy, and a Banquet set out.

Edith. Now for a Fathers murther, and thy ruine,
 All chastity shall suffer if he raign;
 Thou blessed soul, look down, and steel thy Daughter,
 Look on the sacrifice she comes to send thee,
 And through the bloudy clouds behold my piety,
 Take from my cold heart fear, from my sex pity,
 And as I wipe these tears off, shed for thee,
 So all remembrance may I lose of mercy;
 Give me a womans anger bent to bloud,
 The wildness of the winds to drown his prayers,
 Storm-like may my destruction fall upon him,
 My rage like roving billows as they rise,
 Pour'd on his soul to sink it, give me flattery,
 (For yet my constant soul ne'r knew dissembling)
 Flattery the food of Fools, that I may rock him
 And lull him in the Down of his desires;
 That in the height of all his hopes and wishes,
 His Heaven forgot, and all his lusts upon him,
 My hand, like thunder from a cloud, may seize him.
 I hear him come, go boy, and entertain him.

Enter Rollo.

SONG.
Take, Oh take those lips away
 That so sweetly were forsworn,
 And those eyes, like break of day,
 Lights that do mislead the Morn,
 But my kisses bring again,
 Seals of love, though seal'd in vain.
Hide, Oh hide those hills of Snow,
 Which thy frozen blossome bears,
 On whose tops the Pinks that grow
 Are of those that April wears,
 But first set my poor heart free,
 Bound in those Ivy chains by thee.
Rol. What bright star, taking beauties form upon her,
 In all the happy lustre of Heavens glory,
 Has drop'd down from the Skye to comfort me?
 Wonder of nature, let it not prophane thee
 My rude hand touch thy beauty, nor this kiss,
 The gentle sacrifice of love and service,
 Be offer'd to the honour of thy sweetness.
Edi. My gracious Lord, no deity dwells here,
 Nor nothing of that vertue, but obedience,
 The servant to your will affects no flattery.
Rol. Can it be flattery to swear those eyes
 Are loves eternal lamps he fires all hearts with?
 That tongue the smart string to his bow? those sighs
 The deadly shafts he sends into our souls?
 Oh, look upon me with thy spring of beauty.
Edi. Your grace is full of game.
Rol. By Heaven, my Edith,
 Thy Mother fed on Roses when she bred thee.
Ed. And thine on brambles that have prick'd her heart out.
Rol. The sweetness of the Arabian wind still blowing
 Upon the treasures of perfumes and spices,
 In all their pride and pleasures call thee Mistris.
Edi. Wil't please you sit Sir?
Rol. So you please sit by me.
 Fair gentle maid, there is no speaking to thee,
 The excellency that appears upon thee
 Tyes up my tongue: pray speak to me.
Edi. Of what Sir?
Rol. Of any thing, any thing is excellent.
 Will you take my directions? speak of love then;
 Speak of thy fair self Edith; and while thou speak'st,
 Let me, thus languishing, give up my self wench.
Edi. H'as a strange cunning tongue, why do you sigh Sir?
 How masterly he turns himself to catch me!
Rol. The way to Paradise, my gentle maid,
 Is hard and crooked, scarce Repentance finding,
 With all her holy helps, the door to enter,
 Give me thy hand, what dost thou feel?
Edi. Your tears Sir.
 You weep extreamly; strengthen me now justice.
 Why are these sorrows Sir?
Rol. Thou't never love me
 If I should tell thee, yet there's no way left
 Ever to purchase this blest Paradise,
 But swimming thither in these tears.
Edi. I stagger.
Rol. Are they not drops of blood?
Edi. No.
Rol. They're for blood then,
 For guiltless blood, and they must drop, my Edith,
 They must thus drop, till I have drown'd my mischiefs.
Edi. If this be true, I have no strength to touch him.
Rol. I prethee look upon me, turn not from me;
 Alas I do confess I'me made of mischiefs,
 Begot with all mans miseries upon me;
 But see my sorrows, maid, and do not thou,
 Whose only sweetest sacrifice is softness,
 Whose true condition, tenderness of nature.
Edi. My anger melts, Oh, I shall lose my justice.
Rol. Do not thou learn to kill with cruelty,
 As I have done, to murther with thy eyes,
 (Those blessed eyes) as I have done with malice,
 When thou hast wounded me to death with scorn,
 (As I deserve it Lady) for my true love,
 When thou hast loaden me with earth for ever,
 Take heed my sorrows, and the stings I suffer;
 Take heed my nightly dreams of death and horrour
 Pursue thee not: no time shall tell thy griefs then,
 Nor shall an hour of joy adde to thy beauties.
 Look not upon me as I kill'd thy Father,
 As I was smear'd in blood, do not thou hate me,
 But thus in whiteness of my wash't repentance,
 In my hearts tears and truth of love to Edith,
 In my fair life hereafter.
Edi. He will fool me.
Rol. Oh with thine Angel eyes behold and close me,
 Of Heaven we call for mercy and obtain it;
 To Justice for our right on Earth and have it;
 Of thee I beg for love, save me, and give it.
Edi. Now heaven thy help, or I am gone for ever,
 His tongue has turn'd me into melting pity.

Enter Hamond, and Guard.

Ham. Keep the doors safe, and upon pain of death
 Let no man enter till I give the word.
Guard. We shall Sir. [Exeunt.
Ham. Here he is in all his pleasure; I have my wish.
Rol. How now? why dost thou stare so?
Edi. A help, I hope.
Rol. What dost thou here? who sent thee?
Ham. My Brother, and the base malicious Office
 Thou mad'st me do to Aubrey; pray.
Rol. Pray?
Ham. Pray; pray if thou canst pray, I shall kill thy soul else,
 Pray suddenly.
Rol. Thou can'st not be so trayterous.
Ham. It is a Justice; stay Lady;
 For I perceive your end; a womans hand
 Must not rob me of vengeance.
Edi. 'Tis my glory.
Ham. 'Tis mine, stay, and share with me; by the gods, Rollo,
 There is no way to save thy life.
Rol. No?
Ham. No, it is so monstrous, no repentance cures it.
Rol. Why then thou shalt kill her first, and what this blood
 Will cast upon thy cursed head.
Ham. Poor Guard Sir.
Edi. Spare not brave Captain.
Rol. Fear, or the Devil has thee.
Ham. Such fear Sir as you gave your honor'd Mother,
 When your most vertuous Brother, shield-like, held her;
 Such I'le give you, put her away.
Rol. I will not, I will not die so tamely.
Ham. Murtherous villain, wilt thou draw seas of blood upon thee?
Edi. Fear not, kill him good Captain, any way dispatch
 Him, my body's honor'd with that sword that through me,
 Sends his black soul to Hell: Oh, but for one hand.
Ham. Shake him off bravely.
Edi. He's too strong, strike him.
Ham. Oh, am I with you Sir? now keep you from him,
 What, has he got a knife?
Edi. Look to him Captain, for now he will be mischievous.
Ham. Do you smile Sir?
 Do's it so tickle you? have at you once more.
Edi. O bravely thrust; take heed he come not in Sir;
 To him again, you give him too much respite.
Rol. Yet will you save my life, and I'le forgive thee,
 And give thee all, all honours, all advancements,
 Call thee my friend.
Ed. Strike, strike, and hear him not,
 His tongue will tempt a Saint.
Rol. Oh for my soul sake.
Edi. Save nothing of him.
Ham. Now for your farewel,
 Are you so wary? take you that.
Rol. Thou, that too;
 Oh thou hast kill'd me basely, basely, basely. [Dyes.
Edi. The just reward of murther falls upon thee.
 How do you Sir? has he not hurt you?
Ham. No, I feel not any thing.
Aub. I charge you let us passe. [Within.
Gua. You cannot yet Sir.
Aub. I'le make way then.
Gua. We are sworn to our Captain, and till he give the word.

Enter Sophia, Matilda, Aubrey, Lords and attendants.

Ham. Now let them in there.
Sop. Oh, here he lies,
 Sorrow on sorrow seeks me, Oh, in his blood he lyes.
Aub. Had you spoke sooner
 This might have been prevented;
 Take the Dutchess,
 And lead her off, this is no sight for her eyes.
Mat. Oh, bravely done wench.
Edi. There stands the noble doer.
Mat. My honour ever seek thee for thy justice,
 Oh 'twas a deed of high and brave adventure,
 A justice even for heaven to envy at,
 Farewel my sorrows, and my tears take truce,
 My wishes are come round: Oh bloody Brother,
 Till this hour never beauteous; till thy life,
 Like a full sacrifi[c]e for all thy mischiefs,
 Flow'd from thee in these rivers, never righteous:
 Oh how my eyes are quarri'd with their joys now!
 My longing heart even leaping out for lightness!
 But dye thy black sins with thee, I forgive thee.
Aub. Who did this deed?
Ham. I, and I'le answer it. [Dies.
Edi. He faints, oh that same cursed knife has kill'd him.
Aub. How?
Edi. He snatch'd it from my hand, for whom I bore it,
 And as they grappl'd.
Aub. Justice is ever equal,
 Had it not been on him, th'adst dy'd too honest.
 Did you know of his death?
Edi. Yes, and rejoyce in't.
Aub. I'me sorry for your youth then; though the strictness
 Of Law shall not fall on you, that of life
 Must presently, go to a Cloyster, carry her,
 And there for ever lead your life in penitence.
Edi. Best Father to my soul, I give you thanks, Sir,
 And now my fair revenges have their ends,
 My vows shall be my kin, my prayers my friends. [Exit.

Enter Latorch, and Juglers.

Lat. Stay there, I'le step in and prepare the Duke.
Nor. We shall have brave rewards?
Fis. That is without question.
Lat. By this time where's my huffing friend Lord Aubrey?
 Where's that good Gentleman? oh, I could laugh now,
 And burst my self with meer imagination;
 A wise man, and a valiant man, a just man;
 To suffer himself be juggl'd out of the world,
 By a number of poor Gipseys? farewel Swash-buckler,
 For I know thy mouth is cold enough by this time;
 A hundred of ye I can shave as neatly,
 And ne'r draw bloud in shew: now shall my honour,
 My power and vertue walk alone: my pleasure
 Observ'd by all, all knees bend to my worship,
 All sutes to me as Saint of all their fortunes,
 Prefer'd and crowded to, what full place of credit,
 And what place now? your Lordship? no, 'tis common,
 But that I'le think to morrow on; now for my business.
Aub. Who's there?
Lat. Dead, my Master dead? Aubrey alive too?
Gua. Latorch, Sir.
Aub. Seize his body.
Lat. My Master dead?
Aub. And you within this halfhour,
 Prepare your self good Devil, you must to it,
 Millions of gold shall not redeem thy mischief,
 Behold the Justice of thy practice, villain;
 The mass of murthers thou hast drawn upon us:
 Behold thy doctrine; you look now for reward, Sir,
 To be advanc'd, I'm sure, for all your labours?
 And you shall have it, make his gallows higher
 By ten foot at the least, and then advance him.
Lat. Mercy, mercy.
Aub. 'Tis too late fool,
 Such as you meant for me, away with him. [He is led out.
 What gaping knaves are these, bring 'em in fellows,
 Now, what are you?
Nor. Mathematicians, if it please your Lordship.
Aub. And you drew a figure?
Fis. We have drawn many.
Aub. For the Duke, I mean; Sir Latorchs knaves you are.
Nor. We know the Gentleman.
Aub. What did he promise you?
Nor. We are paid already.
Aub. But I will see you better paid, go whip them.
Nor. We do beseech your Lordship, we were hir'd.
Aub. I know you were, and you shall have your hire;
 Whip 'em extremely, whip that Doctor there,
 Till he record himself a Rogue.
Nor. I am one, Sir.
Aub. Whip him for being one, and when th'are whip't,
 Lead 'em to the gallows to see their patron hang'd;
 Away with them. [They are led out.
Nor. Ah, good my Lord.
Aub. Now to mine own right, Gentlemen.
1 Lord. You have the next indeed, we all confess it,
 And here stand ready to invest you with it.
2 Lord. Which to make stronger to you, and the surer
 Than bloud or mischiefs dare infringe again,
 Behold this Lady, Sir, this noble Lady,
 Full of the bloud as you are, of that nearness,
 How blessed would it be?
Aub. I apprehend you, and so the fair Matilda dare accept
 Me her ever constant servant.
Mat. In all pureness,
 In all humility of heart and services,
 To the most noble Aubrey, I submit me.
Aub. Then this is our first tye, now to our business.
1 Lord. We are ready all to put the honour on you, Sir.
Aub. These sad rites must be done first, take up the bodys,
 This, as he was a Prince, so Princely funeral
 Shall wait upon him: on this honest Captain,
 The decency of arms; a tear for him too.
So, sadly on, and as we view his blood,
 May his Example in our Rule raise good.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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