_Hat_. Death, Ile get thee Regent under him In _Saxonie_, to oppresse as well as I. And we will share the profits, live like Kings, And yet seeme liberall in common things. _Al_. Content: what, though the Rats devour'd our brother? Was not a Prophet murdered by a Lyon? King _Herod_ died of Lice, wormes doe eate us all; The Rats are wormes, then let the Rats eate me. Is the dead course prepar'd? _Hat_. Embalm'd and coffin'd; The Citie keyes delivered to my hands; We stay but onely for his Excellence. _Enter Constantine_. _Con_. The Duke is comming, if it please your honors. _Al_. And he is welcome; let the trumpets sound. [_Second florish_. _Enter Duke of Saxon, Euphrata, and Julia_. _Hat_. Welcome, thrice welcome, our renowned brother. Loe, at thy feete the Cittizens of _Meath_, By us their Agents, do lay downe the keyes, And[173] by this crownet and sword resign'd The state Maiestique to your Princely hands, Discended to you by our brothers death. _Duke_. Then with your loves and persons we receive it.-- Is then our brother the Archbishop dead? _Hat_. Too true, my Lord. _Euph_. I am sorry for my Uncle. _Hat_. And of a death so publique by reporte. _Al_. Devour'd by Rats, in strange and wonderous sort. _Duke_. Could not this palace seated in the _Rheine_, In midst of the great River, (to the which No bridge, nor convay, other then by boats Was to be had,) free him from vermine Rats? _Alf_. Against their kind the land Rats took the water And swomme in little armies to the house; And, though we drown'd and kild innumerable, Their numbers were like _Hydra's_ heads increasing; Ruine bred more untill our brother died. _Duke_. The house is execrable; Ile not enter. _Hat_. You need not feare, my Lord; the house is free From all resort of Rats; for at his death, As if a trumpet sounded a retreat, They made a kind of murmure and departed. _Duke_. Sure 'twas the hand of heaven, for his contempt Of his poore creatures.--But what writs are those? _Hat_. Commissions (if it please your grace,) for glasse, For yron Mines, and other needful things. _Duke_. Our selfe invested in the government, The Cities care shall lie upon your care. _Hat. Alfred_ our brother may awaite your grace In _Saxony_, so please you to command. _Duke_. We are now but three, and lately have bin seven, We have cause to love each other; for my part, Betweene you both we give a brothers heart. Here or at _Saxonie_, command at pleasure; I weare the corronet, be yours the treasure. _Al_. We thanke our brother. _Duke_. Where's my sonne _Fredericke_? _Enter Fredericke with a glove_. _Fre_. Father, the state of _Meath_ desire your grace To take the paines to passe unto the Senate. _Duke_. What glove is that, son _Fred_., in your hand? _Fre_. I found it, if it please your Excellence, Neere to the state-house: the imbroiderie Is very excellent, and the fashion rare.