The loyal subject, or, The faithful general a play acted at the Theatre-Royal by Her Majesties servants / the authors, Mr. Beaumont and Mr. Fletcher ; with a preface.

Scene 3.

Enter Archas, Theodor, 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're trod, Captain.

Puts.

This was not wont to be; these honour'd Pieces The fiery God of War himself would smile at, Buckl'd upon that body, were not wont thus, Like Relicks 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 Blood, and nurs'd with Kingdoms ruines; Thou golden danger, courted by thy Followers Through Fires and Famines, 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 defy the thunder-claps of Fortune, Rust and consuming Time must now dwell with yee: 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 Blood, 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 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 rais'd 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 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, Gentlemen, 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 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 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 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 forc'd, Sir, Forc'd for your Safety; I too well remember The time and cause, and I may live to curse 'em, You made this Vow, and whose un-nobleness, Indeed, forgetfulness of Good—

Ar.

No more. As thou art mine, no more.

Theo.

Whose doubts and Envies— But the Devil will have his due.

Puts.

Good gentle Colonel,

Theo.

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.

Theo.

Tongue!

Ar.

Do not provoke me to forget my Vow, Sirrah, And draw that fatal Sword again in anger,

Puts.

For Heaven's sake, Colonel.

Ar.

Do not let me doubt Whose Son thou art, because thou can'st not suffer: Do not play with mine anger; if thou dost By all the Loyalty my heart holds—

Theo.

I have done, Sir, Pray pardon me.

Ar.

I pray ye be worthy of it: Beshrew your Heart, you have vext me.

Theo.

I am sorry, Sir.

Ar.

Go to, no more of this; be true and honest, I know ye are Man enough, mold it to just ends, And let not my disgraces; then I am miserable, When I have nothing left me but thy angers.

Flourish. Enter Duke, Burris, Boroskie, Attend. and Gent.

Puts.

And't please ye, Sir, the Duke.

Duk.

Now, what's all this? The meaning of this Ceremonious Emblem?

Ar.

Your Grace should first remember—

Boros.

There's his Nature.

Duk.

I do, and shall remember still that Injury. That at the Muster, where it pleas'd your greatness. To laugh at my poor Souldiership, to scorn it; And more to make me seem ridiculous, Took from my Hands my charge.

Bur.

O think not so, Sir.

Du.

And in my Father's sight.

Ar.

Heaven be my Witness, I did no more, (and that with modesty, With Love and Faith to you) then was my Warrant, And from your Father Seal'd: nor durst that Rudeness. And impudence of scorn fall from my Haviour, I ever yet knew Duty.

Duk.

We shall teach ye: I well remember too, upon some Words I told ye, Then at that time, some angry Words, ye answer'd, 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 ye; take your ease, Sir.

Ar.

I humbly thank your Grace; this wasted Body, Beaten and bruis'd with Arms, dry'd up with troubles, Is good for nothing else but quiet, now, Sir, And holy Prayers; in which, when I forget To thank high Heaven for all your bounteous favours. May that be Deaf, and my Petitions perish.

Boros.

What a smooth humble Cloak he has cas'd his pride in? And how he has pull'd his Claws in? There's no trusting—

Bur.

Speak for the best.

Bor.

Believe I shall do ever.

Du.

To make ye understand we feel not yet Such Death of Valour and Experience, Such a declining Age of doing Spirits, That all should be confin'd within your Excellence, And you, or none be honour'd, 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 Soldiers fondness, and a little fortune, Which I believe his Sword had the least share in.

Theo.

O that I durst but answer now.

Puts.

Good Colonel.

Theo.

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, then Dogs or Slaves are. His Sword the least share gain'd?

Du.

You will not fight with me?

Theo.

No, Sir, I dare not, You are my Prince; but I dare speak to ye, And dare speak truth, which none of their Ambitions, That be Informers to you, dare once think of; Yet truth will now but anger ye; I am sorry for't. And so I take my leave.

Du.

Ev'n when you please, Sir.

Ar.

Sirrah, see me no more.

Du.

And so may you too: You have a House ith' Country, keep you there, Sir, And when you have rul'd your self, teach your Son Manners. For this time I forgive him.

Ar.

Heaven forgive all, And to your Grace a happy and long Rule here. And you Lord General, may your Fights be prosperous. 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 Vertue, As if a general Plague had seiz'd before ye; Danger, and Doubt, and Labour cast behind ye, And then come home an old and noble story.

Bur.

A little comfort, Sir.

Du.

As little as may be: Farewel, you know your Limit.

Exit Duke, &c.

Bur.

Alas, brave Gentleman.

Ar.

I do, and will observe it suddenly: My Grave; I, 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 sowrest Shapes and dreadfullest; I, and I thank my honesty, have stood him: That audits cast: Farewel 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 you. You do but change a Man; your Fortune's constant: That by your ancient Valours is ty'd fast still: Be Valiant still and Good; and when you fight next, When flame and fury make but one face of Horror, When the greatest 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 farewel.

Puts.

Let's wait upon ye.

Ar.

No, no, it must not be: I have now left me A single Fortune to my self: no more, Which needs no train, nor complement: Good Captain, You are an honest, and a sober Gentleman, And one I think has lov'd me.

Puts.

I am sure on't.

Ar.

Look to my Boy, he's grown too Head-strong for me, And if they think him sit to carry Arms still, His Life is theirs: I have a House ith' Country, And when your better Hours will give you Liberty See me: you shall be welcom. Fortune to ye.

Exit.

Anc.

I'le cry no more, that will do him no good, And 'twill but make me dry, and I have no Money: I'le fight no more, and that will do them harm; And if I can do that I care not for Money: I could have curst reasonably well, and I have had the luck too To have 'em hit sometimes: Whosoever thou art, That like a Devil did'st possess the Duke With these malitious thoughts; mark what I say to thee, A Plague upon thee, that's but the Preamble.

Sold.

O, take the Pox too:

An.

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-hils, And twice a Day, the Devil with a Curry-Comb Scratch 'em, and scrub 'em, I warrant him he has 'em

Sold.

May he be ever lowzy.

Anc.

That's a pleasure, The Beggar's Leachery: Sometimes the Soldier's: May he be ever lazy, stink where he stands; And Maggots breed in's Brains.

2 Soul.

I marrie, Sir, May he fall Mad in love with his Grand-mother, And kissing her, may her teeth drop into his Mouth, And one fall cross his Throat, then let him gargel.

Put.

Now, what's the matter?

Enter an Express.

Exp.

Where's the Duke, pray Gentlemen?

Put.

Keep on your way, you cannot miss.

Exp.

I thank ye.

Exit.

An.

If he be married, may he dream he's Cuckol'd, 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.

Put.

If these would do—

An.

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

1 Sold.

What shall we do now, Captain? For by this honest hand I'le 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 Shooe 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 that t'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, He need no Soldiers; if he do, for my part, I promise ye, he's like to seek 'em; so, I think, you think too, And all the Army: No, honest brave old Archas, We cannot so soon leave thy Memory, So soon forget thy goodness; he that does, The Scandal, and the Scum of Arms be counted.

Put.

You much rejoice me; now you have hit my meaning: I durst not press ye, till I found your Spirits. Continue thus.

Anc.

I'le go and tell the Duke on't.

Enter 2d. Exp.

Put.

No, no, he'll find it soon enough, and fear it, When once Occasion comes: Another Packet. From whence, Friend, come ye?

2 Exp:

From the Borders, Sir.

Put.

What News, Sir, I beseech ye?

2 Exp.

Fire and Sword, Gentlemen;

The Tartar's up, and with a mighty force, Comes forward like a Tempest, all before him Burning and killing.

Anc.

Brave Boys; brave News, Boys.

2 Exp.

Either we must have present help—

Anc.

Still braver.

2 Exp.

Where lies the Duke?

Sold.

He's there.

2 Exp.

'Save ye Gentlemen.

Exit.

Anc.

We are safe enough, I warrant thee: Now the time's come.

Put.

I now 'tis come, indeed, and now stand firm, Boys, And let 'em burn on merrily.

Anc.

This City would make a marvelous fine Bone-fire; 'Tis old dry Timber, and such Wood has no fellow.

2 Sold.

Here will be trim piping anon, and whining, Like so many Pigs in a storm, When they hear the News once.

Enter Boroskie, and Servants.

Put.

Here's one has heard it already, Room for the General.

Boros.

Say I am faln exceeding sick o'th' suddain, And am not like to live.

Put.

If ye go on, Sir, For they will kill ye certainly; they look for ye.

Anc.

I see your Lordship's bound; take a suppository, 'Tis I, Sir; a poor cast Flag of yours. The foolish Tartars They burn and kill, and 't like your Honour, kill us, Kill with Guns, with Guns, my Lord, with Guns, Sir. What says your Lordship to a Chick in sorrel Sops?

Put.

Go, go thy ways, old True-penny; Thou hast but one fault; Thou art ev'n too valiant. Come to th' Army, Gentlemen, and let's make them acquainted.

Sold.

Away, we are for ye.

Exeunt.