That I am loth to tell; he will not come, Sir;I found him at his Prayers, there he tells me,
The Enemy shall take him, fit for Heaven:
I urg'd to him all our dangers, his own worths,
The Countries ruine; nay I kneel'd and pray'd him;
He shook his head, let fall a tear, and pointed
Thus with his finger to the Ground; a Grave
I think he meant; and this was all he answer'd.
Your Grace was much to blame:
Where's the new General?
Du. He is sick, poor man.
Bur. He's a poor man indeed, Sir:
Your Grace must needs go to the Souldier.
Du. They have sent me word
They will not stir, they rail at me,
And all the spight they have – [Shout within.
What shout is that there?
Is the Enemy come so near?
Olym. I have brought him, Sir,
At length I have woo'd him thus far.
Du. Happy Sister,
O blessed Woman!
Olym. Use him nobly, Brother;
You never had more need: And Gentlemen,
All the best powers ye have, to tongues turn presently,
To winning and perswading tongues: all my art,
Only to bring him hither, I have utter'd;
Let it be yours to arm him; And good my Lord,
Though I exceed the limit you allow'd me,
Which was the happiness to bring ye hither,
And not to urge ye farther; yet, see your Country,
Out of your own sweet Spirit now behold it:
Turn round, and look upon the miseries,
On every side the fears; O see the dangers;
We find 'em soonest, therefore hear me first, Sir.
Du. Next hear your Prince:
You have said you lov'd him, Archas,
And thought your life too little for his service;
Think not your vow too great now, now the time is,
And now you are brought to th' test, touch right now Souldier,
Now shew the manly pureness of thy mettle;
Now if thou beest that valued man, that vertue,
That great obedience teaching all, now stand it.
What I have said forget, my youth was hasty,
And what you said your self forgive, you were angry.
If men could live without their faults, they were gods, Archas.
He weeps, and holds his hands up: to him, Burris.
Bur. You have shew'd the Prince his faults;
And like a good Surgeon you have laid
That to 'em makes 'em smart; he feels it,
Let 'em not fester now, Sir; your own honour,
The bounty of that mind, and your allegiance,
'Gainst which I take it, Heaven gives no Command, Sir,
Nor seals no Vow, can better teach ye now
What ye have to do, than I, or this necessity;
Only this little's left; would ye do nobly,
And in the Eye of Honour truly triumph?
Conquer that mind first, and then men are nothing.
Alin. Last, a poor Virgin kneels; for loves sake General,
If ever you have lov'd; for her sake, Sir,
For your own honesty, which is a Virgin,
Look up, and pity us, be bold and fortunate,
You are a Knight, a good and noble Souldier,
And when your Spurs were given ye, your Sword buckl'd,
Then were you sworn for Vertues Cause, for Beauties,
For Chastity to strike; strike now, they suffer;
Now draw your Sword, or else you are recreant,
Only a Knight i'th' Heels, i'th' Heart a Coward;
Your first Vow honour made, your last but anger.
Ar. How like my vertuous Wife this thing looks, speaks too?
So would she chide my dulness: fair one, I thank ye.
My gracious Sir, your pardon, next your hand:
Madam, your favour, and your prayers: Gentlemen,
Your wishes, and your loves: and pretty sweet one,
A favour for your Souldier.
Olymp. Give him this, Wench.
Alin. Thus do I tye on Victory.
Arc. My Armour,
My Horse, my Sword, my tough Staff, and my Fortune,
And Olin now I come to shake thy glory.
Du. Go, brave and prosperous, our loves go with thee.
Olymp. Full of thy vertue, and our Prayers attend thee.
Bur. &c. Loaden with Victory, and we to honour thee.
Alin. Come home the Son of Honour,
And I'll serve ye. [Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima
Duke. No news of Archas yet?
Bur. But now, and't please ye,
A Post came in, Letters he brought none with him,
But this deliver'd: He saw the Armies join,
The game of Blood begun, and by our General,
Who never was acquainted but with Conquest,
So bravely fought, he saw the Tartars shaken,
And there he said he left 'em.
Du. Where's Boroskie?
1 Gent. He's up again, and't please ye.
Bur. Sir, methinks
This News should make ye lightsome, bring joy to ye,
It strikes our hearts with general Comfort. [Exit Duke.
Gone? What should this mean, so suddenly?
He's well?
2 Gent. We see no other.
1 Gent. Would the rest were well too,
That put these starts into him.
Bur. I'll go after him.
2 Gent. 'Twill not be fit, Sir: h'as some secret in him
He would not be disturb'd in: know you any thing
Has crost him since the General went?
Bur.
