The bloody brother A tragedy. By B.J.F.

Act II. Scene I.

Enter La••orch and Rollo.

VVHy should this trouble you?

Rol.

It does, and must doe till I find ease.

Lat.

Consider then, and quickly; And like a wise man, take the current with you, Which once turn'd head, will sinke you; blest occasion Offers her selfe 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 weaknesse Has crept into your bosome, whose meere thoughts Like tempests, plowing up the sayling Forrests, Even with their swing were wont to shake downe hazards. What is't, your mothers teares?

Rol.

Pry 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 ••ouldiers see it not; 'tis miserable, In Rollo below miserable; take heed your friends, The sinewes of your cause, the strength you stirre by, Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed Your owne 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 sharpnesse Waits but the arme to weild it; or what hope, After the world has blowne abroad this weaknesse, Will move againe, or make a wish for Rollo?

Rol.

Are we not friends againe by each oath ratified, Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts?

Lat.

Poore hearts then.

Rol.

Our worthier friends.

Lat.

No friends sir, to your hono••r; Friends to your fall: where is your understanding, The noble vessell that your full soule sayld in, Ribb'd round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruind, The tempest of a womans sighs has sunk it. Friendship, take heed sir, is a smiling harlot That when shee kisses, kills, a soderd friendship Peec'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 fawne and sport but never leaves his nature; The jarres of brothers, two such mighty ones, Is like a small stone throwne 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 jarres circling distrusts, distrusts breed dangers, And dangers death, the greatest extreme shadow, Till nothing bound 'hem but the shoare their graves; There is no manly wisedome, nor no safety In leaning to this league, this peec'd patch friendship; This reard up reconcilement on a billow, Which as it tumbles, totters downe your fortune; Ist not your owne you reach at? Law and Nature Ushering the way before you; is not hee Borne and bequeathd your subject?

Rol.

Ha.

Lat.

What foole would give a storme leave to disturb his peace•• When he may shut the casement? can that man Has woon so much upon your pity, And drawne 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 pawes, Craftily huming, like a catt to cozen you) But when ambition whetts him, and time fitts him, Leape to his prey, and seizd once, suck your heart out? Doe you make it conscience?

Rol.

Conscience Latorch, what's that?

Lat.

A feare they tye up fooles in, Natures coward, Pauling the blood, and chilling the full spirit With apprehension of meere clouds and shadowes.

Rol.

I know no conscience, nor I feare no shadowes.

Lat.

Or if you did; if there were conscience, If the free soule could suffer such a curbe 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 happinesse 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 selfe againe: My mothers teares and womanish cold prayers, Farewell, I have forgot you; if there be conscience, Let it not come betwixt a crowne and me, Which is my hope of blisse, and I beleeve it: Otto, our friendship thus I blow to ayre, A buble for a boy to play withall; And all the vowes my weaknesse made, like this, Like this poore heartlesse rush, I rend in peeces:

Lat.

Now you goe right, sir, now your eyes are open.

Rol.

My fathers last petition's dead as he is, And all the promises I closd 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 ere I put it on, like heavens blest fire In my descent Ile make it blush in blood; A Crowne, A Crowne, Oh sacred Rule, now fire mee; Nor shall the pitty of thy youth, false brother, Although a thousand Virgins kneele before mee, And every droping eye a court of mercy, The same blood with me, nor the reverence Due to my mothers blest womb that bred us, Redeeme thee from my doubts: thou art a wolfe here, Fed with my feares, and I must cut thee from me: A Crowne, A Crowne; Oh sacred Rule, now fire me: No safety else.

Lat.

But be not too much stird, Sir, nor to 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 edgd witt work This happy feast, the full joy of your friendships Shall be his last.

Rol.

How my Latorch?

Lat.

Why thus, sir; Ile presently go dive into the Officers That minister at Table•• gold and goodnesse, With promise upon promise, and time necessary, Ile poure into them.

Rol.

Canst thou doe it neatly?

Lat.

Let me alone, and such a bait it shall be, Shall take off all suspicion.

Rol.

Goe, and prosper.

Lat.

Walk in then, and your smoothest face put on sir.

Exeunt.