The tragœdy of Rollo Duke of Normandy Acted by His Majesties Servants. Written by John Fletcher Gent.

ACTUS 1. SCENA 1.

Enter Gisbert and Baldwin.

Baldw.

THe brothers then are met?

Gisb.

They are.

Baldw.

Tis thought they may be re∣concil'd.

Gisb.

Tis rather wish'd. For such whose reason doe direct their thoughts Without selfe flattery, dare not hope it Baldwin, The fires of love which the dead Duke believed His equall 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 maine ends, Vnlesse the tempest of the Princes fury Make troubled Seas, and those Seas yeeld fit Billowes To heave them up, and these are too well practis'd In their bad arts to give way to a calme, Which yeelding rest to good men proves their ruine.

Bald.

And in the shipwrack of their hopes and fortunes

The Dukedome might be sav'd, had it butten That stood affected to the generall good, With that confirm'd zeale which brave Aubrey does.

Gisb.

He is indeed the perfect character of a good man, And so his actions speak him.

Bald.

And did you observe the many doubts & cautions the brothers stood upon before they met?

Gisb.

I did, and yet that ever brothers should Stand on more nice termes then sworne enemies After a war proclaimd 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 severall servants searcht, As doubting conceal'd weapons; antidotes Tane openly by both, fearing the roome Appointed for the enterview was poysoned; The chaires and cushions with like care survai'd, And in a word, in every circumstance So jealous on both parts, that it is more Then to be fear'd, concord can never joyne Mindes so divided.

Baldw.

Yet our best endeavours Should not be wanting Gisbert.

Gisb.

Neither shall they,

Enter Granpree and Verdon.

But what are these?

Baldw.

They are without my knowledge, But by their manners and behaviours They should expresse themselves.

SCENA 2.

Gisbert, Baldwin, Granpree, Verdon.

Gran.

Since we serve Rollo The eldest Brother, weel be Rollians, Who will maintaine us as brave as Romans You stand for him?

Verd.

I doe.

Gran.

Why then observe, How much the businesse, the so long'd for businesse, By men that are nam'd from their swords concernes you: Lechery, our common friend, so long kept under With whips and beating fatall hemp shall rise; And baudry in a French-hood shall plead before her Where it shall be concluded, after twelve Virginity shall be carted.

Verd.

Excellent!

Gran.

And Hell but grant the quarrell thats betweene The Princes may continue, and the businesse That's of the sword, t'outlast three sutes in law. And we will make Atturneys lans prizadoes, 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 lawfull to carrouse To their most lowsey fortunes.

Baldw.

Here's a statesman!

Gran.

A Creditor shall not dare but by petition To make demand of any debt, and that Only once every leap yeare, in which if The debtor may be won for a French Crown To pay a souse, he shall be registred His benefactor.

Verd.

The Chancellour heares you.

Gran.

Feare not, I now dare speak as lowd as he, And will be heard and have all that I speak law. Have you no eyes? there's a reverence due From children of the gowne to men of action.

Gisb.

How's this?

Gran.

Ev'n so, the times, the times are chang'd, All businesse is not now prefer'd in parchment, Nor shall a grant passe which wants this broad seale, This seale, doe you see? your gravity once laid My head and heeles together in the dungeon For cracking a scald officers crowne, for which A time is come for vengeance and expect it,

For know you have not full three houres to live.

Gisb.

Yes somewhat longer.

Gran.

To what end?

Gisb.

To hang you, think on that Ruffion.

Gran.

For you Schoolemaster, you have a pretty daughter; let me see, Neere three a clock, by which time I much feare I shall be tir'd with killing some five hundred, Provide a bath, and her to entertaine me. And that shall be your ransome.

Baldw.

Impudent raskall!

SCENA 3.

Enter to them Trevile, and Duprete.

Gisb.

More of the crue.

Gran.

What are you Rollians?

Trevile.

No: this for Rollo and all such as serve him: We stand for Otto.

Gran.

You seeme men of fashion, And therefore ile deale fairely, you shall have The honour this day to be chronicled The first men kill'd by Granpree; you see this sword, A prettie foolish toy, my valours servant, And I may boldly say a Gentleman, It having made when it was Charlemaines Three thousand Knights; this Sir shall cut your throat, And doe you all faire service else.

Tre.

I kisse your hands for the good offer, here's another The servant of your servant, which shall be proud To be scowr'd in your sweet guts, till when, Pray you command me.

Exeunt o••nes praeter Gisbert & Baldwin.

Gran.

Your Idolater Sir.

Gish.

That ever such Should hold the names of men! Or justice be held cruelty, when it labours To pluck such roots up.

Baldw.

Yet they are protected, and by the great ones.

Gisb.

Not the good ones Baldwin.

SCENA. 4.

Aubrey, Gilbert, Baldwin.

Aub,

Is this a time to be spent thus by such That are the principall ministers of the State? When they that are the heads have fill'd the Court With factions, a weake woman only left To stay their bloudy hands? can her weake arme 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? O Gisbert the faire tryalls And frequent proofes which our late Maister made Both of your love and faith, gave him assurance To choose you at his death to be a Guardian, nay A Father of his Sonnes, and that great trust How ill doe you discharge? I must be plaine That at the best y'are a sad looker on Of those bad practises you should prevent. And where's the use of your Philosophy In this so needfull time? be not secure, For Baldwin be assur'd since that the Princes When they were young and apt for any forme, Were given to your instruction and grave ordering, 'Twill be expected that they should be good, Or their bad manners will be imputed yours.

Bald.

'Twas not in me my Lord to alter nature.

Gisb.

Nor can my Counsells work on thē that will not Vouchsafe me hearing.

Aub.

Doe these answers sort Or with your place or persons? or your years? Can Gisbert being the piller of the Lawes See them trod u••der foot, or forc't to serve The Princes unjust ends, and with a frowne Be silenc'd from exclaiming on the abuse, Or Baldwin only weepe the desperate madnesse Of his seduced Pupills? See those minds Which with good arts he labour'd to build up,

Examples of succeeding times oreturn'd By undermineing Parasites; no one precept Leading to any act, or great or good But is forc'd from their memory, in whose roome Black Counsailes are receiv'd and their retirements And secret conference, produceing only Divelish designes, a man would shame to father. But I talke when I should doe, and chide others For that I now offend in.

SCENA 5.

Rollo, Lator••h, Trevile, Granpree, Otto, Verdon, Duprete, Gisbert, Baldwin, Aubrey.

Gisb.

See't confirm'd: Now doe or never speak more, We are yours.

Rollo:

You shall know who I am.

Otto:

I doe, my equall.

Rol.

Thy Prince, give way, were we alone ide force thee In thy best bloud to write thy selfe my subject, And glad I would receive it.

Aub.

Sir.

Gisb.

Deare Lord.

Otto.

Thy subject?

Rol.

Yes, nor shall tame patience hold mee A minute longer, only halfe my selfe, My birth gave me this Dukedome, and my sword Shall change it to the common grave of all That tread upon her bosome, ere I part with A peece of Earth, or title that is mine.

Otto.

I need it not, and would scorne to receive Though offer'd what I want not, therefore know From me though not deliver'd in great words, Eies red with rage, poore pride, and threatning action; Our father at his death, then when no accent Wer't then a sonne could fall from him in vaine, Made us co-heires, our part of land and honours Of equall waight, and to see this confirm'd The oath of these is yet upon record,

Who though they should forsake me, and call downe The plagues of perjury on their sinfull heads, I would not leave my selfe.

Treu.

Nor will we see the will of the dead Duke in∣fring'd.

Lator.

Nor I The elder rob'd of what's his right.

Granp.

Nor you? Let me take place I say I will not see it, My sword is sharpest.

Aub.

Peace you tinder-boxes, That only carry matter to make a flame, Which will consume you.

Roll.

You are troublesome,

to Baldwin,

This is no time for Arguments, my title Needs not your schoole defenees, but my sword With which the Gordian of your Sophistry Being cut, shall shew the Imposture for your lawe.

to Gis.

It is in me to change them as I please, I being above them (Gisbert) Would you have me protect them? Let them then now stretch their extreamest rigour, And seize upon that Traitor, and your tongue Make him appeare first dangerous and then odious, And after under the pretence of safety For the sick State, the Lands and Peoples quiet, Cut off his head, and Ile give up my sword, And fight with them at a more certaine weapon To kill, aud with authority.

Gisb.

Sir I graunt, The Lawes are usefull weapons, but found out To assure innocence not to oppresse.

Roll.

Then you conclude him innocent?

Gisb.

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 goodnesse Will become Suppliants to you.

Roll.

Such have none,

That dare move mee in this, hence, I defy you Be of his party, bring it to your lawes, And thou thy double heart, thou popular foole•• Your morrall rules of justice, and her ballance. I stand on my owne Guard.

Otto.

Which thy injustice Will make thy enimies; by the memory Of him whose better part now suffers for thee, Whose reverend ashes with an impious hand, Thou throwst out to contempt, in thy repineing At his so just decree; thou art unworthy Of what his last will, not thy merit gave thee, That art so swolne within, with all those mischiefes That ere made up a Tyrant, that thy brest The prison of thy purposes, cannot hold them But that they break forth, and in thy owne words Discover, what a monster they must serve, That shall acknowledge thee.

Rol.

Thou shalt not live

Offers his sword at Otto, the faction joyneing Aubrey be∣tween severs the Brothers.

To be so happy.

Aub.

Nor your misery Begin in murder; duty, allegeance, And all respect of what you are forsake mee. Doe you stare ons? is this a theater? Or shall these kill themselves, like to manfencers, To make you sport? keepe them asunder, or By Heaven Ile charge on all.

Gran.

Keepe the peace, I am for you my Lord, and if you'l have me•• Ile act the Constables part.

Aub.

Live I to see this! Will you doe that your Enimies dare not wish, And cherish in your selves those furies which Hell would cast out? doe, I am ready, kill me, And these that would fall willing sacrifices To any power that would restore your reason And make you men againe, 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 waigh downe The wrong, in shedding the least drop of blood Of these, whose goodnesse only now protects thee. Thou should'st feele, I in act would prove my selfe What thou in words dost labour to appeare.

Rol.

Heare this and talke againe, Ile break through all But I will reach thy heart.

Otto.

Tis better guarded.

SCaeNA. 6.

Sophia, Rollo, Otto and the rest.

Soph.

Make way or I will force it, who are these My sonnes, my shames; turne all your swords on mee, And make this wretched body but one wound, So this unnaturall quarrell finde a grave In the unhappy wombe that brought you forth. Dare you remember that you had a Mother, Or looke on these gray haires, made so with teares For both your goods, and not with age, and yet Stand doubtfull to obay hers? from me you had Life, nerves and faculties to use those weapons, And dare you raise them against her, to whome You owe the meanes of being what you are?

Otto.

All peace is meant to you.

Soph.

Why is this warre then? As if your armes could be advanc'd, and I Not set upon the wracks, your blood is mine Your danger's mine, your goodnesse I should share in, And must be branded with those impious markes You stamp on your owne foreheads, and on mine If you goe on thus: for my good name therefore Though all respects of honour in your selves Are in your fury choakt, throw downe your swords•• Your duty should be swifter then my tongue, And joyne your hands while they are innocent, You have heat of blood and youth apt to ambition

To plead an easy pardon for what's past; But all the ills beyond this houre committed, From Gods or men must hope for no excuse.

Gisb.

Can you heare this unmov'd?

Aub.

No Syllable Of this so pious charme, but should have power To frustrate all the juggling deceipts With which the Divell blindes you.

Otto.

I begin to melt, I know not how.

Rol.

Mother, Ile leave you, And Sir, be thankfull for the time you live Till wee meet next, (which shall be soone and suddaine) To her perswasion for you••

Soph.

O yet stay, And rather then part thus, vouchsafe me hearing As enimies, how is my soule divided! My love to both is equall as my wishes, But are return'd by neither, my griev'd heart Hold yet a litle longer, and then break•• I kneele to both, and will speak so, but this Takes the authority of a Mothers power, And therefore like my selfe, Otto to thee, And yet observe sonne, how thy Mothers teares Out strip 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 meanes to be so happy?

Soph.

This, yeeld up thy sword, And let thy pietie give thy mother strength To take that from thee, which no enimies force Could ere dispoile thee of•• why dost thou tremble? And with a fearefull eye fixt on thy brother, Observ'st his ready sword as bent against thee? I am thy armour and will be pierc't through Ten thousand times before I will give way To any perill may arrive at thee, And therefore feare not.

Otto.

Tis not for my selfe

But for you Mother; you are now engag'd In more then 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 practise.

Soph.

All worlds perish Before my pietie turnes treasons parent. Take it againe, and stand upon your guard, And while your brother is, continue arm'd. And yet this feare is needlesse, for I knowe My Rollo, though he dares as much as man, So tender of his yet untainted valour, So noble, that he dares doe nothing basely. You doubt him, he feares you, I doubt and feare Both, for others safety not my owne. Know yet my sonnes when of necessity You must deceive or be deceiv'd, 'tis better To suffer treason then 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 Dukedome, Or the command of these so ready subjects? Desire of wealth, or whatsoere else Fires your ambition? 'tis still desperate madnesse, To kill the people which you would be Lords of, With fire and sword to lay that countrey wast, Whose rule you seek for, to consume the treasures Which are the sinewes of your government, In cherishing the factions ••hat destroy it. Far, far be this from you, make it not question'd, Whither you can have interest in that Dukedome, Whose ruine both contend for.

Otto.

I desire But to enjoy my owne which I will keep.

Rollo.

And rather then posteritie shall have cause To say I ruin'd all, divide the Dukedome, I will accept the moietie.

Otto.

I embrace it.

Soph.

Divide me first or teare me limb by limb, And let them, find as many severall graves As there are Villages in Normandy, And 'tis lesse sinne, then so to weaken it. To heare it mention'd doth already make me Envy my dead Lord, and almost blaspheme Those powers which heard my prayers for fruitfulnesse, And did not with my first birth close my wombe. To me alone, my second blessing proves my first, My first of misery, for if heaven That gave me Rollo, there had staid his bounty, And Otto my deere Otto nere had been, Or being, had not been so worth my love, The streame of my affection had run constant In one faire current, all my hopes had been Laid up in one, and fruitfull Normandy In this division had not lost her glories. For as 'tis now 'tis a faire dyamond Which being preserv'd intire exceeds all value, But cut in peeces, (though these peeces are Set in fine gold by the best workmans cunning) Parts with all estimation: so this Dukedome As tis yet whole, the neighbouring Kings may covet But cannot compasse, which divided will Become the spoile of every barbarous foe That will invade it.

Gisb.

How this workes in both!

Baldw.

Prince Rolloes eyes have lost their fire.

Gisb.

And anger, that but ev'n now wholly possessed Good Otto, hath given place to pitty.

Aub.

End not thus Madam, But perfect whats so well begun.

Soph.

I see in both faire signes of reconcilement Make them sure proofes they are so: the fates offer To your free choice, either to live examples Of piety or wickednesse, if the latter Blinds so your understanding that you cannot Pierce through her painted outside, and discover

That she is all deformitie within, Boldly transcend all presidents of mischiefe, And let the last and the worst act of tyrannies, The murther of a Mother but begin The Scene 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 starre in the bright sphere of honour, Make me the parent of a hundred sonnes All brought into the world with joy not sorrow, And every one a Father to his countrey In being now made mother of your concord.

Rollo.

Such and so good loud fame for ever speak you.

Bald.

I, now they meet like brothers.

The brothers throw down their swords and em∣brace.

Gisb.

My hearts joy Flowes through my eyes.

Aub.

May never womans tongue Hereafter be accus'd, for this ones goodnesse.

Otto.

If we contend, from this houre it shall be How to orecome in brotherly affection.

Rollo.

Otto is Rollo now, and Rollo Otto, Or as they have one minde, 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 publique feast With choice wines drowne our late feares, And with Musick welcome our comforts.

Baldw.

Sure and certaine ones.

Soph.

Supported thus I am secure o sonnes, This is your Mothers triumph.

Exeunt omnes praet. Gran∣pre, Verdon, Trevile, Dupr••

Rollo.

You deserve it.

Gran.

Did ever such a hop'd for businesse end thus?

Verd.

Tis fatall to us all, and yet you Granpree Have the least cause to feare,

Gran.

Why, what's my hope?

Verd.

The certainty that you have to be hang'd; You know the Chancellours promise.

Gran.

Plague upon you.

Verd.

What think you of a bath, and a Lords daughter To entertaine you?

Gran.

Those desires are of fraile thoughts: All friends, no Rollions now, nor Ottoes, The severall curtesies of our swords and servants Deferr till apter consequence: let's make use Of this nights freedome, a short Parliament to us, In which it will be lawfull to walk freely, Nay to our drink we shall have meat too, and thats No usuall business•• to the men 'oth sword. Drink deep with me tonight, we shall to morrow Or whip or hang the merrier.

Trev.

Lead the way then.

Exeunt.

Enter Latorch and Rollo.

Lator.

Why should this trouble you?

Rollo.

It does and must doe, Till I finde ease.

Lator.

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 it selfe in thousand safeties to you, Time standing still to point you out your purpose, And resolution (the true child of vertue) Ready to execute: what dull cold weaknesse Has crept into your bosome, whose meere thoughts Like tempests ploughing up the soyling Forrests Ev'n with their swing were wont to shake down hazards. What ist your mothers teares?

Rollo.

Prethee be patient.

Lator.

Her hands held up, her prayers, or her curses? O Power of prayer dropt through by a woman. Take heed the Souldiers see it not, 'tis miserable In Rollo, below miserable, take heed your friends The sinewes of your cause, the strength you stir by, Take heed I say, they finde it not; take heed

Your own repentance (like a passing bell) Too late and too lowd tell the world you are perish'd. What noble spirit eager of advancement, Whose imployment is his plough, what sword whose sharp∣nesse 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?

Rollo.

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

Lat.

Poore hearts then.

Rollo.

Our worthier friends.

Lat.

No friends Sir to your honour, Friends to your fall, where is your understanding The noble vessell that your full soule sail'd in, Rib'd round with honours, where is that? tis ruin'd, The tempest of a womans sighes hath sunk it. Friendship, take heed Sir, is a smiling harlot That when she kisses, kisses a soder'd friendship Peec'd out with promises; ô painted ruine!

Rollo

Latorch, he is my brother.

Lat.

The more doubted, For hatred hatch'd at home is a tame Tiger, May fawne and sport, but never leave his nature. The jarres of brothers•• two such mighty ones, Are like a small stone throwne into a river, The breath 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 in distrusts, distrusts pull down dangers, And dangers death, the greatest extreame shadow Till nothing bound them but the Showers, their graves. There is no manly wisdome nor no safety In leaning to this league, this peece patcht friendship, This rear'd up reconcilement on a billow Which as he tumbles•• totters down your fortune. Ist not your own you reach at? law and nature Vshring the way before you, is not he borne and Bequeath'd your subject?

Rollo.

Ha?

Lat.

What foole would give a storme leave to disturb him When he may shut the casement? can that man Has woon so much upon you by your pitty, And drawne so high, that like an ominous Comet He darkens all your light, can this cou••h'd Lyon (Though now he licks and locks up his fell pawes Craftily humming like a Cat to cozen you) But ambition whets him and time fits him, Leap to his prey, and seiz'd once, suck your heart out? Doe you make it conscience?

Rollo.

Conscience Latorch? what's that?

Lat.

A teare they tye up fooles in: natures coward, Tasting the bloud and chilling the full spirits With apprehension of meere cloudes and shadowes.

Rollo.

I know no conscience, nor I feare no shadowes.

Lat.

Or if you did, if there were conscience, If the free soule could suffer The fiery minde, such puddle 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?

Rollo.

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 yee. If there be conscience, Let it not come betwixt a Crowne and me, Which is my hope of blisse, and I believe it Otto, our friendship thus I blowe to ayre A bubble for a boy to play withall, And all the vowes my weaknesse made like this, Like this poore heartlesse rush, I rend a peeces.

Lat.

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

Rollo.

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 you are a man Sir.

Rollo,

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 bloud. A crowne, a crowne, ô sacred rule now fire me, Nor shall the pitty of thy youth false brother, Although a thousand Virgins kneele before me•• And every dropping eye a Court of mercy, The same bloud with me, nor the reverence Due to my Mothers blessed wombe, that bred us Redeem thee from my doubts: thou art a woolfe here Fed with my feares, and I must cut thee from me, A crowne, a crowne, ô sacred rule now fire me, No safety else.

Lat,

But be not too much stirr'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 friendship shall be his last.

Rollo.

How my Latorch?

Lan.

Why thus Sir. Ile presently goe dive into the Officers That minister at Table, gold and goodnesse With promise upon promise, and time necessary Ile poure into 'em.

Rollo.

Canst thou doe it neatly?

Lat.

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

Rollo.

Goe and prosper.

Lat.

Walk in then and your smoothest face put on Sir.

Exeunt.

SCOENA 2,

Enter the M^r Cook, Butler, Pantler, Yeoman of the Cellar, with a Iack of beere and a dish.

Cooke.

A hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot boyes, Give me some drink; this fire's a plaguy fretter. Body a me I am dry still, give me the Iack boy, This wooden skiffe holds nothing.

Pant.

And faith master, What brave new meats, for here will be old eating?

Cook.

Old and young boy, let em all eat, I have it, I have ballasse for their bellies, if they eat, a Gods name Let em have ten tire of teeth a peece, •• care not.

Butl.

But what new rare munition?

Cook.

Peuh a thousand, Ile make yee Pigs speak French at table, and a fat Swan Come sculing out of England with a challenge. Ile make yee a dish of Calves feet dance the Canaries, And a consort of cram'd Capons fiddle to em. A Calves head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larkes Rise from the dish, and sing all supper time; Tis nothing boyes, I have fram'd a fortification, Out of Rye past, which is impregnable, And against that for two long houres together, Two doz••n of maribones shall play continually. For Fish ile make ye a standing lake of White-broth, And Pikes come ploughing up the plumbes before 'em•• Arion on a Dolphin playing Lachrimae, And brave King Herring with his oyle and onyon Crownd with a leomon pill, his way prepar'd with his strong guard of pilchers.

Pant

I marry maister.

Cook.

All these are nothing, ile make ye a stubble goose Turne oth toe thrice, doe a crosse point presently And then sit downe againe, and cry, come eate mee. These are for mirth, now Sir, for matter of mourning Ile bring ye in the lady loyne of Veale With the long love she bore the Prince of Orenge.

Omn.

Thou boy, thou!

Cook.

I have a trick for thee too, And a rare trick, and I have done it for thee.

Yeo. Sel.

What's that good master?

Cook.

Tis a sacrifice, a full vine bending like an Arch, And under the blowne god Bacchus sitting on a hogs-head his altar heere, before that a plump Vintner, Kneeling and offering incense to his Deity, Which shall be only this, red spratts and pilchers.

But.

This when the Tables drawne, to draw the wine in.

Cook.

Thou hast it right, And then comes thy Song butler.

Pant.

This will be admirable.

Yeo. Sel.

O Sir, most admirable.

Cook.

If you'l have the paste speak, 'tis in my power I have fire enough to worke it, come stand close, And now rehearse the Song it may be perfect, The drinking song, and say I were the Brothers.

The Song.

Drinke to day and drowne all sorrow, You shall perhaps not doe 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 drinkes well loves the common wealth. And he that will to bed goe sober, Falls with the leafe still in October.

Finis.

Well have you borne your selves, a red-deere pye boies, And that no leane one, I bequeath your ••ertues. What friends hast thou to day, no Cittizens?

Pant.

Yes father the old Crew.

Cook.

By the Masse true, wenches Sirrha, set by a choine of beefe and a hot pastie•• And let the jole of Sturgion be corrected, And doe you marke sir, stalke me to a Pheasant And see and yee can shoote her into the Seller.

Pant.

Godamercy dad,

Send me thy roaring bottles, And with such Nectar I will see 'em fill'd, That all thou speak'st shall be pure Helicon. Mounsieur Latorch, what newes within?

Enter Lator.

Lator.

Save ye, Save ye maister, save ye Gentlemen, You are casting for this preparation, This joyfull supper for the royall brothers: I'me glad I have met yee fitly, for to your charge My bountifull brave Butler, I must deliver A beavy of young lasses, that must looke on This daies solemnity, and see the two Dukes Or I shall loose my credit, you have stowage.

Butl.

For such freight ile finde roome, & be your servāt.

Cook.

Bring 'em, they shall not starve here, ile send 'em victualls Shall worke you a good turne, though it be ten daies hence sir.

Lator.

Godamercy noble maister.

Cook.

Nay ile doe't.

Yeo. Sel.

And Wine they shall not want, let 'em drink like ducks.

Lator.

What misery it is that mindes so royall, And such most honest bounties as yours are, Sould be confin'd thus to uncertainties?

Butl.

I, were the State once setled, then we had places.

Yeo. sel.

Then we could shew our selves and helpe our friends sir.

Cook.

I then there were some savour in't, where now We live betweene two stooles, every hower ready To tumble on our No••es, and for ought we know yet For all this supper, ready to fast the next day.

Lator.

I would faine speake to you out of pitty, Out of the love I beare you, out of honesty, For your own goods, nay for the generall blessing.

Cook••

And we would as fain hear you, pray goe forward.

Lator.

Dare ye•• but think to make your selves up cer∣tainties, Your places and your credits ten times doubled The Princes favour Rolloes?

Butl.

A sweet gentlema••.

Yeo. sel.

I, and as bounteous if he had his right too.

Cook••

By th'masse a royall gentleman indeed boies, Hee'l make the Chimnies smoake.

Lator.

He would doe friends, And you too, if he had his right, true Courtiers, What could ye want then? dare yee? —

Cook.

Pray be short sir.

Lator.

And this my soule upon't, I dare assure you•• If you but dare your parts.

Cook.

Dare not me Monsieur, For I that feare neither fire nor water sir, Dare doe enough a man would think••

Yeo. sel.

Beleeve't sir, But make this good upon us you have promis'd, You shall not finde us flinchers.

Lator.

Then ile be suddaine.

Pant.

What may this meane, and whether would he drive us?

Lator.

And first for what you must doe, because all dāger Shall be apparently ti'de up and mussel'd, The matter seeming mighty, there's your pardons.

Pant.

Pardons? is't come to that? good god defend us.

Lator.

And here's five hūdred crowns in bounteous earnest. And now behold the matter.

Lator. gives each a paper.

Butl.

What are these Sir?

Yeo. sell.

And of what nature? to what use?

Lator.

Imagine.

Cook.

Will they kill rats? they eat my pies abhominably, Or worke upon a woman, cold as Christmasse? I have an old jade sticks upon my fingers. May I tast 'em?

Lator.

Is your will made? And have you said your prayers? for they'l pay ye, And now to come to you for your knowledge, And for the good you never shall repent yee, If ye be wisemen now.

Cook.

Wise as you will sir,

Lator.

These must be put then into the severall meats Young Otto loves, by you into his wine sir, Into his bread by you, by you into his linnen. Now if you desire, ye have found the meanes To make yee, and if ye dare not ye have Found your ruine, resolve me ere you goe.

Butl.

You'l keep faith with us?

Lator.

May I no more see light else.

Cook.

Why 'tis done then.

Butl.

Tis done.

Pant.

Tis done which shall be undone.

Lator.

About it then, farewell, ye are all of one mind?

Cook.

All.

Omn.

All, all.

Lator.

Why then, all happy.

Exit.

But.

What did we promise him?

Yeo. sel.

Doe you aske that now?

Butl.

I would be glad to know what 'tis.

Pant.

Ile tell yee, It is to be all villaines knaves and traitors.

Cook.

Fine wholsome titles,

But.

But if we dare goe forward.

Cook.

We may be hang'd drawd & quartred.

Pant.

Very true Sir

Cook.

What a goodly swinge shall I give the gallowes, yet I thinke too, This may be done, and we may be rewarded Not with a rope, but with a Royall master, And yet we may be hang'd too.

Yeo. sel.

Say 'twere done, Who is it done for? is it not for Rollo and for his right?

Cook.

And yet we may be hang'd too.

Butl.

Or say he take it, say we be discover'd.

Yeo. sel.

Is not the same man bound still to protect us? Are we not his?

Butl.

Sure he will never faile us.

Cook.

If he doe friends, we shall finde that will hold us, And yet me thinks this prologue to our purpose, These Crownes should promise more. Tis easly done,

As easy as a man would rost an egge, If that be all; for look ye gentlemen•• Here stands my broths: my finger slipps a litle, Downe drops a dose, I stirre him with my ladle, And there's a di••h for a Duke: Olla podrilla: Here stands a bak't meate, he wants a litle seas••ing A foolish mistake, my spice boxe gentlemen. And put in some of this, the matters ended: Dredge ye a dish of Plovers, there's the art on't, Or in a galingale a little does it.

Yeo. sel.

Or as I fill my wine.

Cook.

Tis very true Sir Blessing it with your hand, thus, quick and neatly first, Tis past.

Yeo. sel.

And done once tis as easy•• For him to thank us for it, and reward us.

Pant.

But 'tis a damned sinne.

Cook.

I never feare that, The fire's my playfellow, and now I am resolv'd boyes.

But.

Why then have with yee.

Yeo. sel.

The same for mee.

Pa••t.

For me too.

Cook.

And now no more our worships, but our Lordships.

Pā.

Not this yeare o' my knowledge, ile un-lord ye.

Exeūt.

SCENA 3.

Enter Serv••nt aud Shewer.

Ser.

Perfume the roome round: and prepare the table: Gentlemen officers waite in your places.

Shewer.

Make roome there, Roome for the Dukes meate, Gentlemen be bare there, Cleere all the entrance, Guard put by those papers, And Gentlemen Vshers see the Gallery cleere The Dukes are coming on.

Ho boyes and banquet.

Enter Sophia between Rollo and Otto, Aubrey, La∣torch, Gisbert, Baldwin, attendants Ham••••, Matilda.

Serv.

Tis certainly inform'd.

Otto.

Reward the fellow, And looke you mainely to it.

Ser.

My life for you Sir.

Soph.

Now am I straight my Lords, and young againe, My long since blasted hopes shoote out in blossomes, The fruits of everlasting love appearing. O my blest boyes, the honour of my yeares, Of all my cares the bounteous faire rewarders! O let me thus embrace you, thus for ever Within a mothers love lock up your friendships, And my sweet sonnes, once more with mutuall twin••ings, As one chast bed begot you, make one body: Blessings from heaven in thousand showers fall on yee.

Aub.

O womans goodnesse never to be equall'd, May the most sinfull creatures of thy Sex, But kneeling at thy Monument, rise Saints.

Soph.

Sit downe my worthy sonnes, my Lords your places. I, now me thinks the Table's nobly furnish't, Now the meat nourishes, the wine gives Spirit, And all the roome stuck with a generall pleasure, Shewes like the peacefull bower of happinesse.

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 stubborne 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 sleepe in peace,

Roll.

You are sad my noble brother.

Otto.

no indeed Sir.

Soph.

No sadnesse my sweet sonne this day.

Roll.

Pray ye eate, Something is here you have lov'd, ••ast of this dish, It will prepare your Stomack.

Otto.

Thank you brother, I am not now dispos'd to eate.

Roll.

Or that, You put us out of heart man, come these bak'd meats Were ever your best dyet.

Otto.

None I thanke you.

Soph.

Are you well noble Child?

Otto.

Yes gratious mother.

Roll.

Give him a cup of wine then, pledge the health, Drinke it to me ile give it to my mother.

Soph.

Doe my best child.

Otto.

I must not my best mother, Indeed I dare not, for of late my body Has been much weakned, by excesse of dyet. The promise of a feaver hanging on mee, And even now ready, if not by abstinence.

Roll.

Excuse your selfe sir, Come tis your feare, & not your feaver brother, And you have done me a most worthy kindnesse. My Royall mother, and my noble Lords, Heare, for it now concernes me to speak boldly, What faith can be expected from such vowes, From his dissembling smiles, what fruit of friendship, From all his full embraces, what blest issue, When he shall brand me here with base suspition? He takes me for a poysoner.

Soph.

Gods defend it sonne.

Roll.

For a foule knave, a villaine, and so feares mee

Otto.

I could say something too.

Soph.

You must not so sir, Without your great forgetfulnesse of virtue. This is your brother and your honour'd brother, Indeed your loving brother.

Roll.

If he please so.

Soph.

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, whether flyes your goodnesse? Because the right hand has the power of cutting, Shall the left presently cry out, hee's maymde? They are one my childe, one power and one performance, And joyn'd together thus one love, one body.

Aub.

I doe beseech your Grace, take to your thoughts,

More certaine Counsailors then doubts and feares, They strangle nature, and disperse themselves If once beleev'd, into such foggs and errors, That the bright truth her selfe can never sever. Your brother is a Royall gentleman, Full of him selfe honour and honesty, And take heed Sir, how nature bent to goodnesse, (So straight a Cedar to himselfe) uprightnesse Be wrested from his true use, prove not dangerous.

Roll.

Nay my good brother knowes I am to patient.

Lator.

Why should your grace think him a poys••ner? Has he no more respect to piety, And but he has by oath tyde up his fury, Who durst but think that thought?

Aub.

Away thou firebrand.

Lator.

If men of his sort, of his power and place, The eldest sonne in honour to this Dukedome.—

Bald.

For shame cōtain thy tongue, thy poysonous tongue, That with her burning Venome will infect all, And once more blow a wildfire through the Dukedome.

Gisb.

Latorch, if thou bee'st honest or a man, Containe thy selfe.

Aub.

Goe to, no more, by heaven You'l finde you have plaid the foole else, Not a word more.

Soph.

Prethee sweet sonne.

Roll.

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 future difference Discourse may draw on, to a way of danger, I quit my place, and take my leave for this night, Wishing a generall joy may dwell among yee.

Aub.

Shall we waite upon your Grace?

Rol.

I dare not break yee, La Torch.

Exit Roll. & Lator.

Soph.

Doe you now perceive your brothers sweetnesse?

Otto.

O mother that your tendernesse had eyes, Discerning eyes, what would this man appeare 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 pitty•• Sighes that would sinke a Navy, and had tales Able to take the eares of Saints beliefe too, and what did all these? blew the fire to Ilion. My brother has put on, oh I could tell yee But for the reverence I beare to nature, Things that would make your honest bloud move backwar••

Soph.

Yee dare tell me.

Otto.

Yes in your private closet, Where I will presently attend you, rise I am a litle troubled but twill off.

Soph.

Is this the joy I lookt for?

Otto.

All will mend. Be not disturb'd deere mother: Ile not faile you.

Exit So∣phia, & Otto.

Baldw.

I doe not like this.

Aub.

That's 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 doe a suddain mis∣chiefe.

Aub.

Hell look to him, For if there may be a divell above all yet, That rogue will make him. Keep your selfe up this night. And so will I, for much I feare a danger.

Bald.

I will, and in my watches use my praiers.

Exeunt.