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Theod. Captain, your friend's preferr'd; the The tongue of war for ever tied within us?

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Theod. It must be so. Captain, you are a stranger, But of a small time here a soldier,

Yet that time shews you a right good and great

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Before the last duke's death, whose honour'd bones Now rest in peace, this young prince had the ordering

(To crown his father's hopes) of all the army:
Who, to be short, put all his power to practice,
Fashion'd and drew 'em up: But, alas, so poorly,
So raggedly and loosely, so unsoldier'd,

The good duke blush'd, and call'd unto my father,
Who then was general: "Go, Archas, speedily,
And chide the boy before the soldiers find him;
Stand thou between his ignorance and them;
Fashion their bodies new to thy direction;
Then draw thou up, and shew the prince his

errors!"

My sire obey'd, and did so; with all duty
Inform'd the prince, and read him all directions:
This bred distaste, distaste grew up to anger,
And anger into wild words broke out thus:
"Well, Archas, if I live but to command here,
To be but duke once, I shall then remember.
I shall remember truly (trust me I shall),

And, by my father's hand"-the rest his eyes spoke.

[anger

To which my father answer'd, somewhat moved
And with a vow he seal'd it: "Royal sir, [too,
Since, for my faith and fights, your scorn and
Only pursue me; if I live to that day,
That day so long expected to reward me,
By his so-ever-noble hand you swore by,
And by the hand of justice, never arms more
Shall rib this body in, nor sword hang here, sir.
The conflicts I will do you service then in,
Shall be repentant prayers." So they parted.
The time is come; and now you know the wonder.
Puts. I find a fear too, which begins to tell me,
The duke will have but poor and slight defences,
If his hot humour reign, and not his honour.
How stand you with him, sir?

Theod. A perdue captain,

Full of my father's danger.

Puts. He has raised a young man,
They say a slight young man (I know him not)

For what desert?

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I have seen a better face, and a straighter body; And yet she is a pretty gentlewoman.

Olym. What thinkest thou, Petesca?

Pet. Alas, madam, I have no skill; she has a black eye,

Which is of the least too, and the dullest water: And when her mouth was made, for certain, madam, Nature intended her a right good stomach.

Olym. She has a good hand.

Gent. 'Tis good enough to hold fast,

And strong enough to strangle the neck of a lute. Olym. What think you of her colour?

Pet. If it be her own,

'Tis good black blood; right weather-proof, I warrant it.

Gent. What a strange pace she has got!
Olym. That's but her breeding.

Pet. And what a manly body! methinks she

looks

As though she'd pitch the bar, or go to buffets. Gent. Yet her behaviour's utterly against it, For methinks she is too bashful.

Olym. Is that hurtful?

Gent. Even equal to too bold: either of 'em,

madam,

May do her injury when time shall serve her.
Olym. You discourse learnedly.

Call in the wench.[Exit Gentlewoman. What envious fools are you! Is the rule general, That women can speak handsomely of none, But those they are bred withal?

Pet. Scarce well of those, madam, If they believe they may outshine 'em any way: Our natures are like oil, compound us with any thing,

Yet still we strive to swim o' th' top. Suppose there were here now,

Now in this court of Moscow, a stranger-princess,
Of blood and beauty equal to your excellence,
As many eyes and services stuck on her;
What would ye think?

Olym. I would think she might deserve it.
Pet. Your grace shall give me leave not to
believe you!

I know you are a woman and so humour'd.
I'll tell you, madam; I could then get more gowns

on you,

More caps and feathers, more scarfs, and more silk

stockings,

With rocking you asleep with nightly railings
Upon that woman, than if I had nine lives

I could wear out. By this hand, you would scratch her eyes out.

Olym. Thou art deceived, fool. Now let your own eyes mock you.

Enter Gentlewoman and Young ARCHAS, disguised as a woman, bearing the name of ALINDA,

Come hither, girl.-Hang me, an she be not a handsome one!

Pet. I fear 'twill prove indeed so.

Olym. Did you e'er serve yet

In any place of worth?

Y. Arch. No, royal lady.

Pet. Hold up your head; fy!

Olym. Let her alone; stand from her.

Y. Arch. 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 believed, 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. [To PETESCA.] What think ye now?-
I do believe and thank you;

And sure I shall not be so far forgetful,
To see that honest faith die unrewarded.
What must I call your name?

Y. Arch. Alinda, madam.
Olym. Can you sing?

Y. Arch. A little, when my grief will give me leave, lady.

Olym. What grief canst thou have, wench? Thou

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For yet I never saw that man I sigh'd for.
Olym. Of what years are you?

Y. Arch. My mother oft has told me,
That very day and hour this land was bless'd
With your most happy birth, I first saluted
This world's fair light. Nature was then so busy,
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 I hope you are a maid?

Y. Arch. I hope so too, madam ;

[you.

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 Gentlemen.
Pet. The great-duke, madam.
Duke. Good morrow, sister!

Olym. A good day to your highness!

Duke. I am come to pray you use no more per

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But far off dwelling: Her desire to serve me Brought her to th' court, and here her friends have left her.

Duke. She may find better friends. You are welcome, fair one!

[Young ARCHAS kneels. The Duke kisses him. I have not seen a sweeter. By your lady's leave: Nay, stand up, sweet; we'll have no superstition. You have got a servant; you may use him kindly, And he may honour you. Good morrow, sister. [Exeunt Duke, BURRIS, and Gentlemen. Olym. Good morrow to your grace! How the wench blushes !

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And therefore nothing can be meant but honour.
Olym. But, say he love you?

Y. Arch. That he may with safety:
A prince's love extends to all his subjects.
Olym. But, say in more particular?
Y. Arch. Pray fear not :

For Virtue's 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 mistress and my noble master,
Your virtues my ambition, and your favour
The end of all my love, and all my fortune:
And, when I fail in that faith-

Olym. I believe thee-

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SCENE III.-An open Place before the Palace. Enter ARCHAS, THEODORE, PUTSKIE, ANCIENT, and Soldiers, carrying his armour piece-meal, his colours wound up, and his drums in cases.

Theod. This is the heaviest march we e'er trod, captain.

Puts. This was not wont to be: These honour'd pieces,

The fiery god of war himself would smile at,
Buckled upon that body, were not wont thus,
Like relics, to be offer'd to long rust,
And heavy-eyed oblivion brood upon 'em.
Archas. There set 'em down: And, glorious
War, farewell!

Thou child of honour and ambitious thoughts,
Begot in blood, and nursed with kingdoms' ruins ;
Thou golden danger, courted by thy followers
Through fires and famines; for one title from thee
Prodigal mankind spending ali his fortunes;

A long farewell I give thee! Noble arms,
You ribs for mighty minds, you iron houses,
Made to defy the thunder-claps of fortune,
Rust and consuming time must now dwell with ye!
And thou, good sword, that knew'st the way to
conquest,

Upon whose fatal edge despair and death dwelt,
That, when I shook thee thus, fore-shew'd destruc-

tion,

Sleep now from blood, and grace my monument: Farewell, my eagle! when thou flew'st, whole

armies

[thee

Have stoop'd below thee: At passage I have seen
Ruffle the Tartars, as they fled thy fury;
And bang 'em up together, as a tassel,
Upon the stretch, a flock of fearful pigeons.
I yet remember when the Volga curl'd,
The aged Volga, when he heav'd his head up,
And raised his waters high, to see the ruins,
The ruins our swords made, the bloody 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 devotion's soldier, fit for prayer.
Why do ye hang your heads? Why look ye sad,
I am not dying yet.
[friends?

Theod. You are indeed to us, sir.
Puts. Dead to our fortunes, general.
Archas. You'll find a better,

A greater, and a stronger man to lead you,
And to a stronger fortune. I am old, friends,
Time and the wars together make me stoop, gen-

tlemen,

Stoop to my grave: My mind unfurnish'd too;
Empty and weak as I am. My poor body,
Able for nothing now but contemplation,
And that will be a task too to a soldier.
Yet, had they but encouraged me, or thought well
Of what I have done, I think I should have ven-
tured

For one knock more; I should have made a shift yet

To have broke one staff more, handsomely, and have died

Like a good fellow, and an honest soldier,
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 secure slights-
[these injuries,

Archas. Ha! no more of that, sirrah;
Not one word more of that, I charge you!

Theod. I must speak, sir:

And may that tongue forget to sound your service,

That's dumb to your abuses!

Archas. 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

Archas. No more!

As thou art mine, no more!

Theod. Whose doubts and enviesBut the devil will have his due.

Puts. Good gentle colonel!

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Flourish.

Enter DUKE, BURRIS, BOROSKIE, Attendants
and Gentlemen.

Puts. An't please you, sir, the duke.
Duke. Now, what's all this?

The meaning of all this ceremonious emblem?
Archas. Your grace should first remember-
Bor. There's his nature. [Apart to the DUKE,

Duke. I do, and shall remember still that injury,
That at the muster; where it pleas'd your greatness
To laugh at my poor soldiership, to scorn it;
And, more to make me seem ridiculous,
Took from my hands my charge.

Burris. Oh, think not so, sir.
Duke. And in my father's sight.
Archas. Heaven be my witness,

I did no more (and that with modesty,
With love and faith to you) than was my warrant,
And from your father seal'd: Nor durst that rude-

ness,

And impudence of scorn fall from my 'haviour; I ever yet knew duty.

Duke. We shall teach you!

I well remember too, upon some words I told you,
Then at that time, some angry words you answered,
If ever I were duke, you were no soldier.
You have kept your word, and so it shall be to you;
From henceforth I dismiss you; take your ease, sir.
Archas. I humbly thank your grace; this wasted
body,

Beaten and bruised with arms, dried up with troubles,

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That all should be confined within your excellence,
And you, or none, be honoured; take, Boroskie,
The place he has commanded, lead the soldier ;
A little time will bring thee to his honour,
Which has been nothing but the world's opinion,
The soldier's fondness, and a little fortune,
Which I believe his sword had the least share in.
Theod. Oh, that I durst but answer now!
Puts. Good colonel!

Theod. My heart will break else.-Royal sir, I
know not

What you esteem men's lives, whose hourly labours,

And loss of blood, consumptions in your service,
Whose bodies are acquainted with more miseries
(And all to keep you safe) than dogs or slaves are,
His sword the least share gained?

Duke. You will not fight with me?
Theod. No, sir, I dare not;

You are my prince, but I dare speak to you,
And dare speak truth, which none of their ambitions
That be informers to you, dare once think of;
Yet truth will now but anger you; I am sorry for't,
And so I take my leave.

Duke. Even when you please, sir.
Archas. Sirrah, see me no more!

[Exit THEODORE.

Duke. And so may you too : You have a house i' th' country; keep you there, sir, And, when you have rul'd yourself, teach your son For this time I forgive him. [manners:

Archas. Heaven forgive all ;

And to your grace a happy and long rule here!— And you, lord general, may your fights be pros

perous!

In all your course may Fame and Fortune court you!
Fight for your country, and your prince's safety;
Boldly, and bravely face your enemy,

And when you strike, strike with that killing virtue,
As if a general plague had seized before you;
Danger, and doubt, and labour cast behind you ;
And then come home an old and noble story!
Burris. A little comfort, sir.
Duke. As little as may be.
Farewell! you know your limit.

[Exeunt Duke, BOROSKIE, &c.
Burris. Alas, brave gentleman!
Archas. I do, and will observe it suddenly.
My grave; ay, that's my limit; 'tis no new thing,
Nor that can make me start, or tremble at it,
To buckle with that old grim soldier now:

I have seen him in his sourest shapes, and dreadfull'st;

Ay, and I thank my honesty, have stood him. That audit's cast.-Farewell, my honest soldiers! Give me your hands. Farewell! farewell, good

Ancient !

(A stout man, and a true) thou art come in sorrow.
Blessings upon your swords, may they ne'er fail ye!
You do but change a man; your fortune's constant ;
That by your ancient valours is tied fast still;

Be valiant still, and good: And when ye fight next,
When flame and fury make but one face of horror,
When the great rest of all your honour's up,
When you would think a spell to shake the enemy,
Remember me; my prayers shall be with ye :
So, once again, farewell!

Puts. Let's wait upon you.

Archas. No, no, it must not be; I have now left A single fortune to myself, no more,

[me

Which needs no train, nor compliment. Good captain,

You are an honest and a sober gentleman,
And one I think has loved me.

Puts. I am sure on't.

Archas. Look to my boy; he's grown too headstrong for me;

And if they think him fit to carry arms still,
His life is theirs. I have a house i' th' country,
And when your better hours will give you liberty,
See me: You shall be welcome. Fortune to ye!

[Exit.

Anc. I'll cry no more, that will do him no good, And 'twill but make me dry, and I have no money. I'll fight no more, and that will do them harm; And if I can do that, I care not for money.

I could have curs'd reasonable well, and I have had the luck too

To have 'em hit sometimes. Whosoe'er thou art,
That, like a devil, didst possess the duke
With these malicious thoughts, mark what I say
to thee;

A plague upon thee! that's but the preamble.
A Sold. Oh, take the pox too.

Anc. They'll cure one another :

I must have none but kills, and those kill stinking.
Or, look ye, let the single pox possess them,
Or pox upon pox.

Puts. That's but ill i' th' arms, sir.

Anc. 'Tis worse i' th' legs; I would not wish it else:

And may those grow to scabs as big as mole-hills,
And twice a-day, the devil with a curry-comb
Scratch 'em, and scrub 'em! I warrant him he has
Sold. May he be ever lousy!
Anc. That's a pleasure,

['em

The beggar's lechery; sometimes the soldier's: May he be ever lazy, stink where he stands, And maggots breed in's brains!

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Post. Where's the duke, pray, gentlemen? Puts. Keep on your way, you cannot miss. Post. I thank you.

[Exit.

Anc. If he be married, may he dream he's cuckold, And when he wakes believe, and swear he saw it, Sue a divorce, and after find her honest; Then in a pleasant pig-sty, with his own garters, And a fine running knot, ride to the devil! Puts. If these would do

Anc. I'll never trust my mind more, If all these fail.

1 Sold. What shall we do now, captain? For by this honest hand I'll be torn a-pieces, Unless my old general go, or some that love him, And love us equal too, before I fight more. I can make a shoe yet, and draw it on too, If I like the leg well.

Anc. Fight? 'tis likely!

No, there will be the sport, boys, when there's

need on's.

They think the other crown will do, will carry us,
And the brave golden coat of captain Cankro
Boroskie! What a noise his very name carries!
'Tis gun enough to fright a nation,

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