Scene. V.
Enter Duke, 2 Exp. Attendants, Gent.
Duk.
The Lord General sick now? Is this a time
For Men to creep into their Beds; What's become Express
Of my Lieutenant?
Exp.
Beaten, and't please your Grace.
And all his Forces routed.
Duk.
That's but cold News.
Enter a Gent.
How now, what good News? Are the Soldiers ready?
Gent.
Yes, Sir, but fight they will not, nor stir from that place
They stand in now, unless they have Lord Archas
To lead 'em out they rail upon this General,
And sing Songs of him, scurvy Songs, to worse Tunes:
And much they spare not you, Sir; here they swear
They'll stand and see the City burnt, and dance about it,
Unless Lord Archas come, before they fight for't.
It must be so, Sir.
Duk.
I could wish it so too:
And to that end I have sent Lord Burris to him;
But all I fear will fail; we must die, Gentlemen,
And one stroke we'll have for't.
Enter Burris.
What bring'st thou, Burris?
Bur.
That I am loath 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: