_The._ I'le tell thee then: and then thou wilt find the reason: The last great Muster, ('twas before ye serv'd here, Before the last Dukes death, whose honour'd bones Now rest in peace) this young Prince had the ordering, (To Crown his Fathers hopes) of all the Army: Who (to be short) put all his power to practise; Fashion'd, and drew 'em up: but alas, so poorly, So raggedly and loosely, so unsouldier'd, The good Duke blush'd, and call'd unto my Father, Who then was General: Go, _Archas_, speedily, And chide the Boy, before the Souldiers find him, Stand thou between his ignorance and them, Fashion their bodies new to thy direction; Then draw thou up, and shew the Prince his errours. My Sire obey'd, and did so; with all duty Inform'd the Prince, and read him all directions: This bred distaste, distaste grew up to anger, And anger into wild words broke out thus: Well, _Archas_, if I live but to command here, To be but Duke once, I shall then remember. I shall remember truly, trust me, I shall, And by my Fathers hand--the rest his eyes spoke. To which my Father answer'd (somewhat mov'd too) And with a vow he seal'd it: Royal Sir, Since for my faith and fights, your scorn and anger Only pursue me; if I live to that day, That day so long expected to reward me, By his so ever noble hand you swore by, And by the hand of Justice, never Arms more Shall rib this body in, nor sword hang here, Sir: The Conflicts I will do you service then in, Shall be repentant prayers: So they parted. The time is come; and now ye know the wonder. _Put._ I find a fear too, which begins to tell me, The Duke will have but poor and slight defences, If his hot humour raign, and not his honour: How stand you with him, Sir? _The._ A perdue Captain, Full of my Fathers danger. _P[ut]._ He has rais'd a young man, They say a slight young man, I know him not, For what desert? _The._ Believe it, a brave Gentleman, Worth the Dukes respect, a clear sweet Gentleman, And of a noble soul: Come let's retire us, And wait upon my Father, who within this hour You will find an alter'd man. _Put._ I am sorry for't, Sir. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter_ Olympia, _and two Gentlewomen_. _Olym._ Is't not a handsome Wench? _2 Wom._ She is well enough, Madam: I have seen a better face, and a straighter body, And yet she is a pretty Gentlewoman. _Olym._ What thinkst thou _Petesca_? _Pet._ Alas, Madam, I have no skill, she has a black eye, Which is of the least too, and the dullest water: And when her mouth was made, for certain Madam, Nature intended her a right good stomach. _Olym._ She has a good hand. _2 Wom._ 'Tis good enough to hold fast, And strong enough to strangle the neck of a Lute. _Olym._ What think ye of her colour? _Pet._ If it be her own 'Tis good black blood: right weather-proof I warrant it.