SCENE IV.

_Enter_ Archas _and a Servant_.

_Ar._ 'Tis strange To me to see the Court, and welcome: O Royal place, how have I lov'd and serv'd thee? Who lies on this side, know'st thou?

_Ser._ The Lord _Burris_.

_Ar._ Thou hast nam'd a Gentleman I stand much bound to: I think he sent the Casket, Sir?

_Ser._ The same, Sir.

_Ar._ An honest minded man, a noble Courtier: The Duke made perfect choice when he took him. Go you home, I shall hit the way Without a guide now.

_Ser._ You may want something, Sir.

_Ar._ Only my Horses, Which after Supper let the Groom wait with: I'le have no more attendance here.

_Ser._ Your will, Sir. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Theodore.

_Theo._ You are well met here, Sir.

_Ar._ How now boy, How dost thou?

_The._ I should ask You that question: how do you, Sir? How do you feel your self?

_Ar._ Why well, and lusty.

_The._ What do you here then?

_Ar._ Why I am sent for To Supper with the Duke.

_The._ Have you no meat at home? Or do you long to feed as hunted Deer do, In doubt and fear?

_Ar._ I have an excellent stomach, And can I use it better Than among my friends, Boy? How do the Wenches?

_The._ They do well enough, Sir, They know the worst by this time: pray be rul'd, Sir, Go home again, and if ye have a Supper, Eat it in quiet there: this is no place for ye, Especially at this time, Take my word for't.

_Ar._ May be they'll drink hard; I could have drunk my share, Boy. Though I am old, I will not out.

_The._ I hope you will. Hark in your ear: the Court's Too quick of hearing.

_Ar._ Not mean me well? Thou art abus'd and cozen'd. Away, away.

_The._ To that end Sir, I tell ye. Away, if you love your self.

_Ar._ Who dare do these things, That ever heard of honesty?

_The._ Old Gentleman, Take a fools counsel.

_Ar._ 'Tis a fools indeed; A very fools: thou hast more of These flams in thee, these musty doubts: Is't fit the Duke send for me, And honour me to eat within his presence, And I, like a tale fellow, play at bo-peep With his pleasure?

_The._ Take heed Of bo-peep with your pate, your pate, Sir, I speak plain language now.

_Ar._ If 'twere not here, Where reverence bids me hold, I would so swinge thee, thou rude, Unmanner'd Knave; take from his bounty, His honour that he gives me, to beget Sawcy, and sullen fears?

_The._ You are not mad sure: By this fair light, I speak But what is whisper'd, And whisper'd for a truth.

_Ar._ A Dog: drunken people, That in their Pot see visions, And turn states, mad-men and Children: Prethee do not follow me; I tell thee I am angry: Do not follow me.

_The._ I am as angry As you for your heart, I and as wilful too: go, like a Wood-cock, And thrust your neck i'th' noose.

_Ar._ I'le kill thee, And thou speakst but three words more. Do not follow me. [_Exit._

_The._ A strange old foolish fellow: I shall hear yet, And if I do not my part, hiss at me. [_Exit._