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Enter Gentlewoman and Alinda
Come hither Girl: hang me and she be not a handsom one.
Pet. I fear it will prove indeed so.
Olym. Did you ever serve yet
In any place of worth?
Alin. No, Royal Lady.
Pet. Hold up your head; fie.
Olym. Let her alone, stand from her.
Alin. It shall be now,
Of all the blessings my poor youth has pray'd for,
The greatest and the happiest to serve you;
And might my promise carry but that credit
To be believ'd, because I am yet a stranger,
Excellent Lady, when I fall from duty,
From all the service that my life can lend me,
May everlasting misery then find me.
Olym. What think ye now? I do believe, and thank ye;
And sure I shall not be so far forgetful,
To see that honest faith die unrewarded:
What must I call your name?
Alin. Alinda , Madam.
Olym. Can ye sing?
Alin. A little, when my grief will give me leave, Lady.
Olym. What grief canst thou have Wench?
Thou art not in love?
Alin. If I be Madam, 'tis only with your goodness;
For yet I never saw that man I sighed for.
Olym. Of what years are you?
Alin. My Mother oft has told me,
That very day and hour this land was blest
With your most happy birth, I first saluted
This worlds fair light: Nature was then so busie,
And all the Graces to adorn your goodness,
I stole into the world poor and neglected.
Olym. Something there was, when I first look'd upon thee,
Made me both like and love thee: now I know it;
And you shall find that knowledge shall not hurt you:
I hope ye are a Maid?
Alin. I hope so too, Madam;
I am sure for any man: and were I otherwise,
Of all the services my hopes could point at,
I durst not touch at yours.
Flourish. Enter Duke , Burris, and Gent
Pet. The great Duke, Madam.
Duk. Good morrow, Sister.
Olym. A good day to your highness.
Duk. I am come to pray you use no more perswasions
For this old stubborn man: nay to command ye:
His sail is swell'd too full: he is grown too insolent,
Too self-affected, proud: those poor slight services
He has done my Father, and my self, has blown him
To such a pitch, he flyes to stoop our favours.
Olym. I am sorry Sir: I ever thought those services
Both great and noble.
Bur. However, may it please ye
But to consider 'em a true hearts Servants,
Done out of faith to you, and not self-fame:
Do but consider royal Sir, the dangers;
When you have slept secure, the mid-night tempests,
That as he marcht sung through his aged locks;
When you have fed at full, the wants and famins;
The fires of Heaven, when you have found all temperate,
Death with his thousand doors
Duk. I have consider'd;
No more: and that I will have, shall be.
Olym. For the best,
I hope all still.
Duk. What handsom wench is that there?
Olym. My Servant, Sir.
Duk. Prethee observe her Burris ,
Is she not wondrous handsom? speak thy freedom.
Bur. She appears no less to me Sir.
Duk. Of whence is she?
Ol. Her Father I am told is a good Gentleman,
But far off dwelling: her desire to serve me
Brought her to th' Court, and here her friends have left her.
Du. She may find better friends:
Ye are welcom fair one,
I have not seen a sweeter: By your Ladies leave:
Nay stand up sweet, we'll have no superstition:
You have got a Servant; you may use him kindly,
And he may honour ye: [Ex. Duke and Burris.
Good morrow Sister.
Ol. Good morrow to your Grace. How the wench blushes!
How like an A[n]gel now she looks!
1 Wom. At first jump
Jump into the Dukes arms? we must look to you,
Indeed we must, the next jump we are journeymen.
Pet. I see the ruine of our hopes already,
Would she were at home again, milking her Fathers Cows.
1 Wom. I fear she'l milk all the great Courtiers first.
Olym. This has not made ye proud?
Al. No certain, Madam.
Olym. It was the Duke that kist ye.
Al. 'Twas your Brother,
And therefore nothing can be meant but honour.
Ol. But say he love ye?
Al. That he may with safety:
A Princes love extends to all his subjects.
Ol. But say in more particular?
Al. Pray fear not:
For vertues sake deliver me from doubts, Lady:
'Tis not the name of King, nor all his promises,
His glories, and his greatness stuck about me,
Can make me prove a Traitor to your service:
You are my Mistris, and my noble Master,
Your vertues my ambition, and your favour
The end of all my love, and all my fortune:
And when I fail in that faith
Ol. I believe thee,
Come wipe your eyes; I do: take you example
Pets. I would her eyes were out.
1 Wom. If the wind stand in this door,
We shall have but cold custome: some trick or other,
And speedily.
Pet. Let me alone to think on't.
Ol. Come, be you near me still.
Al. With all my duty. [Exeunt.
SCENA III
Enter Archas, Theodor, Putskie, Ancient, and Souldiers, carrying his armour piece-meale, his Colours wound up, and his Drums in Cases
Theod. This is the heaviest march we e're trod Captain.
Puts. This was not wont to be: these honour'd pieces
The fierie god of war himself would smile at,
Buckl'd upon that body, were not wont thus,
Like Reliques to be offer'd to long rust,
And heavy-ey'd oblivion brood upon 'em.
Arch. There set 'em down: and glorious war farewel;
Thou child of honour and ambitious thoughts,
Begot in bloud, and nurs'd with Kingdomes ruines;
Thou golden danger, courted by thy followers
Through fires and famins, for one title from thee
Prodigal man-kind spending all his fortunes;
A long farewel I give thee: Noble Arms,
You ribs for mighty minds, you Iron houses,
Made to defie the thunder-claps of Fortune,
Rust and consuming time must now dwell with ye:
And thou good Sword that knewst the way to conquest,
Upon whose fatal edge despair and death dwelt,
That when I shook thee thus, fore-shew'd destruction,
Sleep now from bloud, and grace my Monument:
Farewel my Eagle; when thou flew'st, whole Armies
Have stoopt below thee: At Passage I have seen thee,
Ruffle the Tartars , as they fled thy furie;
And bang 'em up together, as a Tassel,
Upon the streach, a flock of fearfull Pigeons.
I yet remember when the Volga curl'd,
The aged Volga , when he heav'd his head up,
And rais'd his waters high, to see the ruins;
The ruines our Swords made, the bloudy ruins,
Then flew this Bird of honour bravely, Gentlemen;
But these must be forgotten: so must these too,
And all that tend to Arms, by me for ever.
Take 'em you holy men; my Vow take with 'em,
Never to wear 'em more: Trophies I give 'em,
And sacred Rites of war to adorn the Temple:
There let 'em hang, to tell the world their master
Is now Devotions Souldier, fit for prayer.
Why do ye hang your heads? why look you sad friends?
I am not dying yet.
Theod. Ye are indeed to us Sir.
Puts. Dead to our fortunes, General.
Arch. You'l find a better,
A greater, and a stronger man to lead ye,
And to a stronger fortune: I am old, friends,
Time, and the wars together make me stoop, Gentle[men],
Stoop to my grave: my mind unfurnish'd too,
Emptie and weak as I am: my poor body,
Able for nothing now but contemplation,
And that will be a task too to a Souldier:
Yet had they but encourag'd me, or thought well
Of what I have done, I think I should have ventur'd
For one knock more, I should have made a shift yet
To have broke one staff more handsomly, and have died
Like a good fellow, and an honest Souldier,
In the head of ye all, with my Sword in my hand,
And so have made an end of all with credit.
Theod. Well, there will come an hour, when all these injuries,
These secure slights
Ar. Ha! no more of that sirrah,
Not one word more of that I charge ye.
Theod. I must speak Sir.
And may that tongue forget to sound your service,
That's dumb to your abuses.
Ar. Understand fool,
That voluntary I sit down.
Theod. You are forced, Sir,
Forced for your safety: I too well remember
The time and cause, and I may live to curse 'em:
You made this Vow, and whose unnobleness,
Indeed forgetfulness of good
Ar. No more,
As thou art mine no more.
The. Whose doubts and envies
But the Devil will have his due.
Puts. Good gentle Colonel.
The. And though disgraces, and contempt of Honour
Reign now, the Wheel must turn again.
Ar. Peace Sirrah,
Your tongue's too saucy: do you stare upon me?
Down with that heart, down suddenly, down with it,
Down with that disobedience; tye that tongue up.
Theod. Tongue?
Ar. Do not provoke me to forget my Vow, Sirrah.
And draw that fatal Sword again in anger.
Puts. For Heavens sake, Colonel.
Ar. Do not let me doubt
Whose Son thou art, because thou canst not suffer:
Do not play with mine anger; if thou dost,
By all the Loyalty my heart holds
Theod. I have done, Sir,
Pray pardon me.
Ar. I pray be worthy of it:
Beshrew your heart, you have vext me.
The. I am sorry, Sir.
Ar. Go to, no more of this: be true and honest,
I know ye are man enough, mould it to just ends,
And let not my disgraces, then I am miserable,
When I have nothing left me but thy angers.
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