SCENE III.

_Enter_ Duke, Petrucchio, _and_ Vecchio.

_Vec._ You lost her yester-night.

_Pet._ How think you Sir?

_Duke._ Is your name _Vecchio_?

_Vec._ Yes Sir.

_Du._ And you can shew me These things you promise.

_Vec._ Your graces word bound to me, No hand of Law shall seize me.

_Duke._ As I live Sir--

_Petr._ And as I live, that can do something too Sir.

_Vec._ I take your promises: stay here a little, Till I prepare some Ceremonies, and I'le satisfie ye. The Ladies name's _Constantia_?

_Petr._ Yes.

_Vec._ I come straight. [_Exit_ Vec.

_Duke._ Sure he's a learned man.

_Petr._ The most now living; Did your grace mark when we told all these circumstances, How ever and anon he bolted from us To use his studies help?

_Duke._ Now I think rather To talk with some familiar.

_Petr._ Not unlikely, For sure he has 'em subject.

_Duke._ How could he else Tell when she went, and who went with her?

_Petr._ True.

_Du._ Or hit upon mine honour: or assure me The Lady lov'd me dearly?

_Enter_ Vecchio, _in his habiliments_.

_Petr._ 'Twas so.

_Vec._ Now, I do beseech your grace sit down, and you Sir; Nay pray sit close like Brothers.

_Petr._ A rare fellow.

_Vec._ And what ye see, stir not at, nor use a word, Until I ask ye; for what shall appear Is but weak apparition and thin air, Not to be held, nor spoken to. [_Knocking within._

[John, Frederick, _and a Servant within_.

_Duke._ We are counsell'd--

_Vec._ What noise is that without there?

_Fred._ _within._ We must speak with him.

_Serv._ _within._ He's busie, Gentlemen.

_John within._ That's all one friend, We must and will speak with him.

_Duke._ Let 'em in, Sir, We know their tongues and business, 'tis our own, And in this very cause that we now come for, They also come to be instructed.

_Vec._ Let 'em in then: Sit down, I know your meaning.

_Enter_ Frederick, John, _and Servant_.

_Fred._ The Duke before us? Now we shall sure know something.

_Vec._ Not a question, But make your Eyes your Tongues--

_John._ This is a strange Jugler, Neither indent before-hand for his payment, Nor know the Breadth of the business; sure his Devil Comes out of _Lapland_, where they sell men Winds For dead drink, and old Doublets.

_Fred._ Peace, he conjures.

_John._ Let him, he cannot raise my Devil.

_Fred._ Prithee Peace.

_Vec._ _Appear, appear,_ _And you soft Winds so clear,_ _That dance upon the leaves, and make them sing_ _Gentle Love-lays to the Spring,_ _Gilding all the Vales below,_ _With your Verdure as ye blow,_ _Raise these forms from under ground_ _With a soft and happy sound._ [Soft Musick.

_John._ This is an honest Conjurer, and a pretty Poet; I like his words well, there's no bumbast in 'em, But do you think now he can cudgel up the Devil With this short Staff of Verses?

_Fred._ Peace, the Spirits-- [_2 shapes of women passing by._

_John._ Nay, and they be no worse--

_Vec._ Do ye know these faces?

_Duke._ No.

_Vec._ Sit still upon your lives then, and mark what follows; Away, away.

_John._ These Devils do not paint sure? Have they no sweeter shapes in Hell?

_Fred._ Hark now, _John_. [Constantia _passes by_.

_John._ I, marry, this moves something like, this Devil Carries some metal in her gate.

_Vec._ I find ye, You would see her face unvail'd?

_Duke._ Yes.

_Vec._ Be uncovered.

_Duke._ O Heaven!

_Vec._ Peace.

_Pet._ See how she blushes.

_John._ _Frederick_, This Devil for my mony; this is she, Boy, Why dost thou shake? I burn.

_Vec._ Sit still, and silent.

_Duke._ She looks back at me, now she smiles, Sir.

_Vec._ Silence.

_Duke._ I must rise, or I burst. [_Exit_ Constantia.

_Vec._ Ye see what follows--

_Duke._ O gentle Sir, this shape agen.

_Vec._ I cannot. 'Tis all disso[l]v'd again; this was the Figure?

_Duke._ The very same, Sir. No hope once more to see it?

_Vec._ You might have kept it longer, had ye spar'd it, Now 'tis impossible.

_Du._ No means to find it?

_Vec._ Yes, that there is, sit still a while, there's Wine To thaw the wonder from your hearts; drink well, Sir.

[_Exit_ Vecchio.

_John._ This Conjurer is a right good fellow too, A Lad of mettle; two such Devils more Would make me a Conjurer; what wine is it?

_Fred._ Hollock.

_John._ The Devil's in it then; look how it dances. Well, if I be--

_Pet._ We are all before ye, That's your best comfort, Sir.

_John._ By th' Mass, brave Wine; Nay, and the Devils live in this Hell, I dare venture Within these two months yet to be delivered Of a large Legion of 'em.

_Enter_ Vecchio.

_Du._ Here he comes, Silence of all sides, Gentlemen.

_Vec._ Good your Grace, Observe a stricter temper, and you too, Gallants, You'll be deluded all else. This merry Devil That next appears, for such a one you'll find it, Must be call'd up by a strange incantation, A Song, and I must sing it: 'pray bear with me, And pardon my rude Pipe; for yet, ere parting Twenty to one I please ye.

_Du._ We are arm'd, Sir.

_Pet._ Nor shall you see us more transgress.

_Fred._ What think'st thou Now, _John_?

_John._ Why, now do I think, _Frederick_, (And if I think amiss Heaven pardon me) This honest Conjurer, with some four or five Of his good fellow Devils, and my self, Shall be yet drunk ere midnight.

SONG.

_Come away, thou Lady gay,_ _Hoist; how she stumbles!_ _Hark how she mumbles._ _Dame_ Gillian. _Answer. I come, I come._ _By old Claret I enlarge thee,_ _By Canary thus I charge thee,_ _By_ Britain, _Mathewglin, and Peeter,_ _Appear and answer me in meeter._ _Why when?_ _Why_ Gill? _Why when?_ _Answer. You'll tarry till I am ready._ _Once again I conjure thee,_ _By the Pose in thy Nose,_ _And the Gout in thy Toes;_ _By thine old dryed Skin,_ _And the Mummie within;_ _By thy little, little Ruff,_ _And thy Hood that's made of Stuff;_ _By thy Bottle at thy Breech,_ _And thine old salt Itch;_ _By the Stakes, and the Stones,_ _That have worn out thy Bones._ _Appear._ _Appear._ _Appear._ _Answer. Oh I am here._

_Fred._ Peace, he conjures.

_John._ Why, this is the Song, _Frederick_; twenty pound now, To see but our _Don Gillian_.

_Enter Land-lady and the Child._

_Fred._ Peace, it appears.

_John._ I cannot peace; Devils in French hoods, _Frederick_? Satans old Syringes?

_Duke._ What's this?

_Vec._ Peace.

_John._ She, Boy.

_Fred._ What dost thou mean?

_John._ She, Boy, I say.

_Fred._ Ha?

_John._ She Boy, The very Child too, _Frederick_.

_Fred._ She laughs on us Aloud, _John_, has the Devil these affections? I do believe 'tis she, indeed.

_Vec._ Stand still.

_John._ I will not; Who calls _Jeronimo_ from his naked Bed? Sweet Lady, was it you? if thou beest the Devil, First, having crost my self, to keep out wildfire, Then said some special Prayers to defend me Against thy most unhallowed Hood, have at thee.

_Land._ Hold, Sir, I am no Devil.

_John._ That's all one.

_Land._ I am your very Landlady.

_John._ I defie thee; Thus as St. _Dunstan_ blew the Devil's Nose With a pair of tongs, even so, Right Worshipful--

_Land._ Sweet Son, I am old _Gillian_.

_Duke._ This is no Spirit.

_John._ Art thou old _Gillian_, flesh and bone?

_Land._ I am, Son.

_Vec._ Sit still, Sir, now I'll shew you all. [_Ex._ Vec.

_John._ Where's thy Bottle?

_Land._ Here, I beseech ye, Son--

_John._ For I know the Devil Cannot assume that shape.

_Fred._ 'Tis she, _John_, certain--

_John._ A hogs pox o' your mouldy chaps, what makes you Tumbling and juggling here?

_Land._ I am quit now, Seignior, For all the pranks you plaid, and railings at me, For to tell true, out of a trick I put Upon your high behaviours, which was a lie, But then it serv'd my turn, I drew the Lady Unto my Kinsman's here, only to torture Your _Don_-ships for a day or two; and secure her Out of all thoughts of danger; here she comes now.

_Enter_ Vecchio, _and_ Constantia.

_Duke._ May I yet speak?

_Vec._ Yes, and embrace her too, For one that loves you dearer--

_Duke._ O my Sweetest.

_Pet._ Blush not, I will not chide ye.

_Const._ To add more Unto the joy I know, I bring ye, see Sir, The happy fruit of all our Vows!

_Duke._ Heavens Blessing Be round about thee ever.

_John._ Pray bless me to[o], For if your Grace be well instructed this way, You'll find the keeping half the getting.

_Duke._ How, Sir?

_John._ I'll tell you that anon.

_Const._ 'Tis true, this Gentleman Has done a charity worthy your favour, And let him have it, dear Sir.

_Duke._ My best Lady He has, and ever shall have: so must you, Sir, To whom I am equal bound as to my being.

_Fred._ Your Graces humble servant--

_Du._ Why kneel you, Sir?

_Vec._ For pardon for my boldness: yet 'twas harmless, And all the art I have, Sir; those your Grace saw, Which you thought spirits, were my Neighbours Children Whom I instruct in Grammar here, and Musick; Their shapes, the Peoples fond opinions, Believing I can conjure, and oft repairing To know of things stoln from 'em, I keep about me, And always have in readiness, by conjecture Out of their own confessions, I oft tell 'em Things that by chance have fallen out so; which way (Having the persons here, I knew you sought for) I wrought upon your Grace; my end is mirth, And pleasing, if I can, all parties.

_Duke._ I believe it, For you have pleas'd me truly: so well pleas'd me, That when I shall forget it--

_Pet._ Here's old _Antonio_, I spy'd him at a window, coming mainly I know about his Whore, the man you light on, As you discovered unto me; good your Grace, Let's stand by all, 'twill be a mirth above all, To observe his pelting fury.

_Vec._ About a wench, Sir?

_Pet._ A young whore that has rob'd him.

_Vec._ But do you know, Sir, Where she is?

_Pet._ Yes, and will make that perfect--

_Vec._ I am instructed well then.

_John._ If he come To have a Devil shew'd him, by all means Let me be he, I can roar rarely.

_Pet._ Be so, But take heed to his anger.

_Vec._ Slip in quickly, There you shall find suits of all sorts: when I call Be ready and come forward. [_Exeunt all but_ Vecchio. Who's there comes in?

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant._ Are you the Conjurer?

_Vec._ Sir, I can do a little That way, if you please to employ me.

_Ant._ Presently, shew me a Devil that can tell--

_Vec._ Where your wench is.

_Ant._ You are i'th' right; as also where the Fidler That was consenting to her.

_Vec._ Sit ye there, Sir, Ye shall know presently: can ye pray heartily?

_Ant._ Why, is your Devil so furious?

_Vec._ I must shew ye A form may chance affright ye.

_Ant._ He must fart fire then: Take you no care for me.

_Vec._ Ascend, _Asterth_,

_Enter Don_ John _like a Spirit_.

Why, when, appear I say--Now question him.

_Ant._ Where is my whore, _Don_ Devil?

_John._ Gone to _China_, To be the great _Chams_ Mistress.

_Ant._ That's a lye, Devil, Where are my jewels?

_John._ Pawn'd for Petticoats.

_Ant._ That may be: where's the Fidler?

_John._ Condemn'd to th' Gallows For robbing of a Mill.

_Ant._ The lyingst Devil That e'r I dealt withal, and the unlikeliest! What was that Rascal hurt me?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ How?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ Who was he?

_John._ I.

_Ant._ Do you hear conjurer, Dare you venture your Devil?

_Vec._ Yes.

_Ant._ Then I'll venture my dagger; Have at your Devils pate; do you mew?

_Enter all._

_Vec._ Hold.

_Pet._ Hold there, I do command you hold.

_Ant._ Is this the Devil? Why, Conjurer--

_Pet._ He has been a Devil to you, Sir; But now you shall forget all; your whore's safe, And all your jewels, your Boy too.

_John._ Now the Devil indeed Lay his ten claws upon thee, for my pate Finds what it is to be a Fiend.

_Ant._ All safe?

_Pet._ 'Pray ye know this person; all's right now.

_Ant._ Your Grace May now command me then: but where's my whore?

_Pet._ Ready to go to whipping.

_Ant._ My whore whipt?

_Pet._ Yes, your whore without doubt, Sir.

_Ant._ Whipt! 'pray Gentlemen.

_Duke._ Why, would you have her once more rob ye? the young Boy You may forgive, he was entic'd.

_John._ The whore, Sir, Would rather carry pity: a handsome whore.

_Ant._ A Gentleman I warrant thee.

_Pet._ Let's in all, And if we see contrition in your whore, Sir, Much may be done.

_Duke._ Now my dear fair to you, And the full consummation of my Vow. [_Exeunt._

Prologue.

_Aptness for Mirth to all, this instant Night_ Thalia _hath prepared for your delight,_ _Her Choice and curious Viands, in each part_ _Season'd with rarities of Wit and Art;_ _Nor fear I to be tax'd for a vain boast,_ _My Promise will find Credit with the most,_ _When they know ingenious_ Fletcher _made it, he_ _Being in himself a perfect Comedie:_ _And some sit here, I doubt not, dare averr_ _Living he made that House a Theatre_ _Which he pleas'd to frequent; and thus much we_ _Could not but pay to his lo[v]d Memorie._ _For our selves, we do entreat that you would not_ _Expect strange turns, and windings in the Plot,_ _Objects of State, and now and then a Rhime,_ _To gall particular Persons with the time;_ _Or that his towring Muse hath made her flight_ _Nearer your apprehension than your sight;_ _But if that sweet Expressions, quick Conceit,_ _Familiar Language, fashion'd to the weight_ _Of such as speak it, have the power to raise_ _Your Grace to us, with Trophies to his Praise;_ _We may profess, presuming on his Skill,_ _If his_ Chances _please not you, our Fortune's ill._

Epilogue.

_We have not held you long, nor do I see_ _One Brow in this selected Companie_ _Assuring a dislike, our Pains were eas'd_ _Could we be confident that all rise pleas'd:_ _But such ambition soars too high; If We_ _Have satisfi'd the best, and they agree_ _In a fair Censure, We have our Reward,_ _And in them arm'd desire no surer Guard._

THE

Bloody Brother;

OR,

ROLLO.

A

TRAGEDY.

Persons Represented in the Play.

Rollo, } _Brothers, Dukes of_ Normandy. Otto, } Aubrey, _their kinsman_. Gisbert, _the Chancellour_. Baldwin, _the Princes Tutour_. Grandpree, } _Captains of_ Rollo's _faction_. Verdon, } Trevile, } _Captains of_ Otto's _faction_. Duprete, } Latorch, Rollo's _Earwig_. Hamond, _Captain of the Guard to_ Rollo. Allan, _his Brother_. Norbrett, } La Fisk, } Ru[s]ee, } _Five cheating Rogues._ De Bube, } Pipeau, } _Cook._ _Yeoman of the Seller._ _Butler._ _Pantler._ _Lords._ _Sheriff._ _Guard._ _Officers._ _Boys._

_WOMEN._

Sophia, _Mother to the Dukes_. Matilda, _her Daughter_. Edith, _Daughter to_ Baldwin.

_Actus Primus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Gisbert _and_ Baldwin.

_Bal._ The Brothers then are met?

_Gis._ They are, Sir.

_Bald._ 'Tis thought, they may be reconcil'd.

_Gis._ 'Tis rather wish't, for such, whose reason Doth direct their thoughts without self flattery, Dare not hope it.

_Bald._ The fires of Love, which the dead Duke believ'd His equal 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 main ends, Unless the tempest of the Princes fury Make troubled Seas, and those Seas yield fit Billows In their bad Arts to give way to a calm, Which yielding rest and good, prove their ruin, And in the shipwrack of their hopes and fortunes, The Dukedom might be sav'd, had it but ten That stood affected to the general good, With that confirm'd zeal which brave _Aubrey_ does.

_Gis._ He is indeed the perfect character Of a good man, and so his actions speak him.

_Bald._ But did you observe the many doubts, and cautions The Brothers stood upon before they met?

_Gis._ I did; and yet, that ever Brothers should Stand on more nice terms, than sworn Enemies After a War proclaim'd, 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 sev'ral servants searcht, As doubting conceal'd weapons, Antidotes Ta'ne openly by both, fearing the room Appointed for the enter-view was poyson'd, The Chairs, and Cushions, with like care survay'd; And in a word in every circumstance So jealous on both parts, that it is more Than to be fear'd, concord can never joyn, Minds so divided.

_Bald._ Yet our best endeavours, Should not be wanting, Gisbert.

_Gis._ Neither shall they.

_Enter_ Grandpree, _a[n]d_ Verdon.

But what are these?

_Bald._ They are without my knowledge; But by their manners, and behaviours, They should express themselves.

_Grand._ Since we serve _Rollo_ The Elder Brother, we'll be _Rollians_, Who will maintain us, lads, as brave as _Romans_; You stand for him?

_Ver._ I do.

_Grand._ Why, then observe How much the business, your so long'd for business, By men that are nam'd from their swords, concerns you. Lechery, our common friend, so long kept under, With whips, and beating fatal hemps, shall rise, And Bawdery, in a French-hood plead, before her Virginity shall be Carted.

_Ver._ Excellent!

_Grand._ And Hell but grant, the quarrel that's between The Princes may continue, and the business That's of the sword, t'outlast three suits in Law, And we will make Atturnies Lansprisadoes, 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 lawful to carouse To their most lowsie fortunes.

_Bald._ Here's a Statesman.

_Grand._ A creditor shall not dare, but by Petition, To make demand of any debt; and that Only once every leap-year, in which, if The debtor may be won for a French Crown, To pay a Soulz, he shall be registred His benefactor.

_Ver._ The Chancellor hears you.

_Grand._ Fear not, I now dare speak as loud as he, And will be heard, and have all I speak, Law; Have you no eyes? there is a reverence due, From Children of the Gown, to Men of Action.

_Gis._ How's this?

_Gran._ Even so; the times, the times are chang'd, All business is not now prefer'd in Parchment, Nor shall a grant pass that wants this broad seal; This seal d'ye see? your gravity once laid My head and heels together in the Dungeon, For cracking a scald Officers crown, for which A time is come for vengeance, and expect it; For know, you have not full three hours to live.

_Gis._ Yes, somewhat longer.

_Gran._ To what end?

_Gis._ To hang you; think on that, Ruffian.

_Gran._ For you, School-master, You have a pretty Daughter; let me see, Near three a Clock, (by which time I much fear, I shall be tyr'd with killing some five hundred) Provide a Bath, and her to entertain me, And that shall be your Ransom.

_Bald._ Impudent Rascal.

_Enter to them_ Trevile _and_ Duprete.

_Gis._ More of the crew?

_Grand._ What are you? _Rollians_?

_Tre._ No; this for _Rollo_, and all such as serve him; We stand for _Otto_.

_Grand._ You seem men of fashion, And therefore I'le deal fairly, you shall have The honour this day to be Chronicled The first men kill'd by _Grandpree_; you see this sword, A pretty foolish toy, my valour's Servant, And I may boldly say a Gentleman, It having made when it was _Charlemaigns_, Three thousand Knights; this, Sir, shall cut your throat, And do you all fair service else.

_Tre._ I kiss your hands for the good offer; here's another too, the servant of your servant shall be proud to be scour'd in your sweet guts; till when pray you command me.

_Grand._ Your Idolater, Sir. [_Exeunt. Manent_ Gis. _&_ Bal.

_Gis._ That e're such should hold the names of men, Or Justice be held cruelty, when it labours To pluck such weeds up!

_Bald._ Yet they are protected, and by the great ones.

_Gis._ Not the good ones, _Baldwin_.

_Enter to them_ Aubrey.

_Aub._ Is this a time to be spent thus by such As are the principal Ministers of the State? When they that are the heads, have fill'd the Court With factions, a weak Woman only left To stay their bloudy hands? can her weak arms 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. Oh _Gisbert_, the fair tryals, And frequent proofs which our late master made, Both of your love and faith, gave him assurance, To chuse you at his death a Guardian; nay, A Father to his Sons; and that great trust, How ill do you discharge! I must be plain, That, at the best, y'are a sad looker on Of those bad practices you should prevent. And where's the use of your Philosophy In this so needful a time? be not secure; For, _Baldwin_, be assur'd, since that the Princes, When they were young, and apt for any form, Were given to your instruction, and grave ordering; 'Twill be expected that they should be good, Or their bad manners will b' imputed yours.

_Bald._ 'Twas not in one, my Lord, to alter nature.

_Gis._ Nor can my counsels work on them that will not Vouchsafe me hearing.

_Aub._ Do these answers sort, Or with your place, or persons, or your years? Can Gisbert being the pillar of the Laws, See them trod under foot, or forc'd to serve The Princes unjust ends; and with a frown Be silenc'd from exclaiming on th' abuse? Or _Baldwin_ only weep the desp'rate madness Of his seduced pupills? see their minds, Which with good Arts he labour'd to build up Examples of succeeding times, o'return'd By undermining parasites; no one precept Leading to any Art, or great, or good, But is forc'd from their memory, in whose room Black counsels are receiv'd, and their retirements, And secret conference producing only Dev'lish designs, a man would shame to father; But I talk when I should do, and chide others For that I now offend in: see't confirm'd, Now do, or never speak more.

_Gis._ We are yours.

_Enter_ Rollo, Latorch, Trevile, Grandpree, Otto, Verdon, _and_ Duprete.

_Rol._ You shall know who I am.

_Otto._ I do, my equal.

_Rol._ Thy Prince; give way--were we alone, I'de force thee, In thy best bloud, to write thy self my subject, And glad I would receive it.

_Aub._ Sir.

_Gis._ Dear Lord.

_Otto._ Thy subject?

_Rol._ Yes, nor shall tame patience hold me A minute longer, only half my self; My birth gave me this Dukedom, and my sword Shall change it to the common grave of all That tread upon her bosom, e're I part with A piece of earth, or title that is mine.

_Otto._ It needs not, and I would scorn to receive, Though offer'd, what I want not: therefore know From me, though not deliver'd in great words, Eyes red with rage, poor pride, and threatned action; Our Father at his death, then, when no accent, Wer't thou a Son, could fall from him in vain, Made us Co-heirs, our part of Land and Honours Of equal weight; and to see this confirm'd, The Oaths of these are yet upon record, Who though they should forsake me, and call down The plagues of perjury on their sinful heads, I would not leave my self.

_Tre._ Nor will we see the Will of the dead Duke infring'd.

_Lat._ Nor I the elder rob'd of what's his right.

_Grand._ Nor you? Let me take place, I say, I will not see't; My sword is sharpest.

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

_Rol._ You are troublesome, [_To_ Baldwin. This is no time for arguments, my Title Needs not your School-defences, but my sword, With which the Gordian of your Sophistry Being cut, shall shew th' Imposture. For your laws [_To_ It is in me to change them when I please, [Gisbert. I being above them; _Gisbert_, would you have me protect them; Let them now stretch their extreamest rigour, And seize upon that Traytor; and your tongue Make him appear first dangerous, then odious; And after, under the pretence of safety For the sick State, the Lands and Peoples quiet, Cut off his head: and I'le give up my sword, And fight with them at a more certain weapon To kill, and with Authority.

_Gis._ Sir, I grant the Laws are useful weapons, but found out T'assure the Innocent, not to oppress.

_Rol._ Then you conclude him Innocent?

_Gis._ 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 goodness, Will become suppliants to you.

_Rol._ They have none That dare move me in this: hence, I defie you, Be of his party, bring it to your Laws, And thou thy double heart, thou popular fool, Your moral rules of justice and her ballance; I stand on mine own guard.

_Otto._ Which thy unjustice Will make thy enemies; by the memory Of him, whose better part now suffers for thee, Whose reverend ashes with an impious hand Thou throw'st out to contempt, in thy repining At this so just decree; thou art unworthy Of what his last Will, not thy merits, gave thee, That art so swoln within, with all those mischiefs That e're made up a Tyrant, that thy breast, The prison of thy purposes, cannot hold them, But that they break forth, and in thy own words Discover, what a monster they must serve That shall acknowledge thee.

_Rol._ Thou shalt not live to be so happy.

_Aub._ Nor your miseries begin in murther.

[_He offers his sword at_ Otto, _the faction joyning_, [Aubrey _between severs the Brothers_.

Duty, allegeance, and all respects of what you are, forsake me: Do you stare on? is this a Theater? Or shall these kill themselves, like to mad fencers, To make you sport? keep them asunder, or By Heaven I'le charge on all.

_Grand._ Keep the peace, I am for you, my Lord, and if you'l have me, I'le act the Constables part.

_Aub._ Live I to see this? Will you do that your enemies dare not wish, And cherish in your selves those furies, which Hell would cast out? Do, I am ready; kill me, And these, that would fall willing sacrifices To any power that would restore your reason, And make you men again, 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 weigh down The wrong, in shedding the least drop of bloud Of these whose goodness only now protects thee, Thou should'st feel I in act would only prove my self What thou in words do'st labour to appear.

_Rol._ Hear this, and talk again! I'le break through all, But I will reach thy heart.

_Otto._ 'Tis better guarded.

_Enter_ Sophia.

_Soph._ Make way, or I will force it, who are those? My Sons? my shames; turn all your swords on me, And make this wretched body but one wound, So this unnatural quarrel find a grave In the unhappy womb that brought you forth: Dare you remember that you had a Mother, Or look on these gray hairs, made so with tears, For both your goods, and not with age; and yet Stand doubtful to obey her? from me you had Life, Nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons; And dare you raise them against her, to whom You owe the means of being what you are?

_Otto._ All peace is meant to you.

_Soph._ Why is this War then? As if your arms could be advanc'd, and I Not set upon the rack? your bloud is mine, Your dangers mine, your goodness I should share in; I must be branded with those impious marks You stamp on your own foreheads and on mine, If you go on thus: for my good name therefore, Though all respects of honour in your selves Be in your fury choakt, throw down your swords; Your duty should be swifter than my tongue; And joyn your hands while they be innocent; You have heat of bloud, and youth apt to Ambition, To plead an easie pardon for what's past: But all the ills beyond this hour committed, From Gods or men must hope for no excuse.

_Gis._ Can you hear this unmov'd? No Syllable of this so pious charm, but should have power To frustrate all the juggling deceits, With which the Devil blinds you.

_Otto._ I begin to melt, I know not how.

_Rol._ Mother, I'le leave you; And, Sir, be thankful for the time you live, Till we meet next (which shall be soon and sudden) To her perswasion for you.

_Soph._ O yet, stay, And rather than part thus, vouchsafe me hearing, As enemies; how is my soul divided? My love to both is equal, as my wishes; But are return'd by neither; my griev'd heart, Hold yet a little longer, and then break. I kneel to both, and will speak so, but this Takes from me th' authority of a mothers power; And therefore, like my self, _Otto_, to thee, (And yet observe, son, how thy mothers tears Outstrip 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 means to be so happy?

_Soph._ This; yield up thy sword, And let thy piety give thy mother strength To take that from thee, which no enemies force Could e're despoil thee of: why do'st thou tremble, And with a fearful eye fixt on thy Brother, Observ'st his ready sword, as bent against thee? I am thy armour, and will be pierc'd through, Ten thousand times, before I will give way To any peril may arrive at thee; And therefore fear not.

_Otto._ 'Tis not for my self, But for you, mother; you are now ingag'd In more tha[n] 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 practice.

_Soph._ All worlds perish, Before my piety turn treasons parent, Take it again, and stand upon your guard, And while your Brother is, continue arm'd; And yet, this fear is needless, for I know, My _Rollo_, though he dares as much as man, So tender of his yet untainted valour, So noble, that he dares do nothing basely. You doubt him; he fears you; I doubt and fear Both; for others safety, and not mine own. Know yet, my sons, when of necessity You must deceive, or be deceiv'd; 'tis better To suffer Treason, than 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 Dukedom? Or the command of these so ready subjects? Desire of wealth? or whatsoever else Fires your ambition? This still desp'rate madness, To kill the people which you would be Lords of; With fire, and sword to lay that Country waste Whose rule you seek for: to consume the treasures, Which are the sinews of your Government, In cherishing the factions that destroy it: Far, far be this from you: make it not question'd Whether you have interest in that Dukedom, Whose ruine both contend for.

_Otto._ I desire but to enjoy my own, which I will keep.

_Rol._ And rather than posterity shall have cause To say I ruin'd all, divide the Dukedom, I will accept the moiety.

_Ott._ I embrace it.

_Soph._ Divide me first, or tear me limb by limb, And let them find as many several Graves As there are villages in _Normandy_: And 'tis less sin, than thus to weaken it. To hear it mention'd doth already make me Envy my dead Lord, and almost Blaspheme Those powers that heard my prayer for fruitfulness, And did not with my first birth close my womb: To me alone my second blessing proves My first of misery, for if that Heaven Which gave me _Rollo_, there had staid his bounty, And _Otto_, my dear _Otto_, ne're had been, Or being, had not been so worth my love, The stream of my affection had run constant In one fair current, all my hopes had been Laid up in one; and fruitful _Normandy_ In this division had not lost her glories: For as 'tis now, 'tis a fair Diamond, Which being preserv'd intire, exceeds all value, But cut in pieces (though these pieces are Set in fine gold by the best work-mans cunning) Parts with all estimation: So this Dukedom, As 'tis yet whole, the neighbouring Kings may covet, But cannot compass; which divided, will Become the spoil of every barbarous foe That will invade it.

_Gis._ How this works in both!

_Bal._ Prince _Rollo_'s eyes have lost their fire.

_Gis._ And anger, that but now wholly possessed Good Otto, hath given place to pity.

_Aub._ End not thus Madam, but perfect what's so well begun.

_Soph._ I see in both, fair signs of reconcilement, Make them sure proofs they are so: the Fates offer To your free choice, either to live Examples Of Piety, or wickedness: if the later Blinds so your understanding, that you cannot Pierce through her painted out-side, and discover That she is all deformity within, Boldly transcend all precedents of mischief, And let the last, and the worst end of tyrannies, The murther of a Mother, but begin The stain 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 Stars in the bright Sphere of honour; Make me the parent of an hundred sons, All brought into the world with joy, not sorrow, And every one a Father to his Country, In being now made Mother of your concord.

_Rol._ Such, and so good, loud fame for ever speak you.

_Bal._ I, now they meet like Brothers.

[_The Brothers cast away their Swords and embrace._

_Gis._ My hearts joy flows through my eyes.

_Aub._ May never Womans tongue Hereafter be accus'd, for this ones Goodness.

_Otto._ If we contend, from this hour, it shall be How to o'recome in brotherly affection.

_Rol._ _Otto_ is _Rollo_ now, and _Rollo_, _Otto_, Or as they have one mind, 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 publick Feast With choice Wines drown our late fears, and with Musick Welcome our comforts.

_Bald._ Sure and certain ones. [_Exeunt._

[_Manent_ Grandpree, Verdon, Trevile _and_ Duprete.

_Grand._ Did ever such a hopeful business end thus?

_Ver._ 'Tis fatal to us all, and yet you _Grandpree_, Have the least cause to fear.

_Grand._ Why, what's my hope?

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

_Grand._ Plague upon you.

_Ver._ What think you of a Bath, and a Lords Daughter To entertain you?

_Grand._ Those desires are off. Frail thoughts, all friends, no _Rollians_ now, nor _Ottoes_: The sev'ral court'sies of our swords and servants Defer to after consequence; let's make use Of this nights freedom, a short Parliament to us, In which it will be lawful to walk freely. Nay, to our drink we shall have meat too, that's No usual business to the men o'th' sword. Drink deep with me to night, we shall to morrow, Or whip, or hang the merrier.

_Tre._ Lead the way then. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Latorch, _and_ Rollo.

_Lato._ Why should this trouble you?

_Rol._ It does, and must do till I find ease.

_Lato._ 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 her self 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 weakness Has crept into your bosom, whose meer thoughts Like tempests, plowing up the sayling Forests, Even with their swing were wont to shake down hazards. What is't, your Mothers tears?

_Rol._ Pray 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 Souldiers see it not; 'tis miserable, In _Rollo_ below miserable; take heed your friends, The sinews of your cause, the strength you stir by, Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed Your own 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 sharpness Waits but the arm to wield it; or what hope, After the world has blown abroad this weakness, Will move again, or make a wish for _Rollo_?

_Rol._ Are we not friends again by each oath ratified, Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts?

_Lat._ Poor hearts then.

_Rol._ Our worthier friends.

_Lat._ No friends Sir, to your honour; Friends to your fall: where is your understanding, The noble vessel that your full soul sail'd in, Rib'd round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruin'd, The tempest of a womans sighs has sunk it. Friendship, take heed Sir, is a smiling harlot That when she kisses, kills, a soder'd friendship Piec'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 fawn and sport, but never leaves his nature; The jars of Brothers, two such mighty ones, Is like a small stone thrown 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 jars circling distrusts, distrusts breed dangers, And dangers death, the greatest extreme shadow, Till nothing bound 'em but the shoar their graves; There is no manly wisedom, nor no safety In leaning to this league, this piec'd patcht friendship; This rear'd up reconcilement on a billow, Which as it tumbles, totters down your fortune; Is't not your own you reach at? Law and nature Ushering the way before you; is not he Born and bequeath'd your subject?

_Rol._ Ha.

_Lat._ What fool would give a storm leave to disturb his peace, When he may shut the casement? can that man Has won so much upon your pity, And drawn 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 paws, Craftily huming, like a catt to cozen you) But when ambition whets him, and time fits him, Leap to his prey, and seiz'd once, suck your heart out? Do you make it conscience?

_Rol._ Conscience, _Latorch_, what's that?

_Lat._ A fear they tye up fools in, natures coward, Palling the blood, and chilling the full spirit With apprehension of meer clouds and shadows.

_Rol._ I know no conscience, nor I fear no shadows.

_Lat._ Or if you did, if there were conscience, If the free soul could suffer such a curb 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 happiness, 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 self again: My Mothers tears and womanish cold prayers, Farewel, I have forgot you; if there be conscience, Let it not come betwixt a crown and me, Which is my hope of bliss, and I believe it: _Otto_, our friendship thus I blow to air, A bubble for a boy to play withal; And all the vows my weakness made, like this, Like this poor heartless rush, I rend in pieces.

_Lat._ Now you go right, Sir, now your eyes are open.

_Rol._ 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 y'are a man, Sir.

_Rol._ _Otto_, thou shewst my winding sheet before me, Which e're I put it on, like Heavens blest fire In my descent I'le make it blush in blood; A Crown, A Crown, Oh sacred Rule, now fire me, Nor shall the pity of thy youth, false Brother, Although a thousand Virgins kneel before me, And every dropping eye a court of mercy, The same blood with me, nor the reverence Due to my mothers blest womb that bred us, Redeem thee from my doubts: thou art a wolf here, Fed with my fears, and I must cut thee from me: A Crown, A Crown; Oh sacred Rule, now fire me: No safety else.

_Lat._ But be not too much stir'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 friendships Shall be his last.

_Rol._ How, my _Latorch_?

_Lat._ Why thus, Sir; I'le presently go dive into the Officers That minister at Table: gold and goodness, With promise upon promise, and time necessary, I'le pour into them.

_Rol._ Canst thou do it neatly?

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

_Rol._ Go, and prosper.

_Lat._ Walk in then, and your smoothest face put on Sir.

[_Exeunt._