_Enter_ Archas, Theodore, _2 Daughters_ Honora _and_ Viola. _Ar._ Carry your self discreetly, it concerns me, The Duke's come in, none of your froward passions, Nor no distasts to any: Prethee _Theodor_, By my life, boy, 'twill ruine me. _The._ I have done Sir, So there be no foul play he brings along with him. _Ar._ What's that to you? Let him bring what please him, And whom, and how. _The._ So they mean well-- _Ar._ Is't fit you be a Judge sirrah? _The._ 'Tis fit I feel Sir. _Ar._ Get a banquet ready, And trim your selves up handsomly. _The._ To what end? Do you mean to make 'em whores? Hang up a sign then, And set 'em out to Livery. _Ar._ Whose son art thou? _The._ Yours Sir, I hope: but not of your disgraces. _Ar._ Full twenty thousand men I have commanded, And all their minds, with this calm'd all their angers; And shall a boy of mine own breed too, of mine own blood, One crooked stick-- _The._ Pray take your way, and thrive in't, I'le quit your house; if taint or black dishonour Light on ye, 'tis your own, I have no share in't. Yet if it do fall out so, as I fear it, And partly find it too-- _Ar._ Hast thou no reverence? No dutie in thee? _The._ This shall shew I obey ye: I dare not stay: I would have shew'd my love too, And that you ask as duty, with my life Sir, Had you but thought me worthy of your hazards, Which heaven preserve ye from, and keep the Duke too: And there's an end of my wishes, God be with ye. [_Exit._ _Ar._ Stubborn, yet full of that we all love, honesty. _Enter_ Burris. Lord _Burris_, where's the Duke? _Bur._ In the great chamber Sir, And there stayes till he see you, ye 'have a fine house here. _Ar._ A poor contented lodge, unfit for his presence, Yet all the joy it hath. _Bur._ I hope a great one, and for your good, brave Sir. _Ar._ I thank ye Lord: And now my service to the Duke. _Bur._ I'le wait on ye. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Duke, Boroskey, _Gent. and Attendants_. _Duke._ May this be credited? _Bor._ Disgrace me else, And never more with favour look upon me. _Duke._ It seems impossible. _Bor._ It cannot chuse Sir, Till your own eyes behold it; but that it is so, And that by this means the too haughtie Souldier Has been so cramm'd and fed, he cares not for ye; Believe, or let me perish: Let your eyes As you observe the house, but where I point it, Make stay, and take a view, and then you have found it. _Enter_ Archas, Burris, _2 Daughters, and Servant_. _Du._ I'le follow your direction: welcome _Archas_, You are welcome home brave Lord, we are come to visit ye, And thank ye for your service. _Ar._ 'Twas so poor Sir, In true respect of what I owe your Highness, It merits nothing. _Du._ Are these fair ones yours, Lord? _Ar._ Their Mother made me think so Sir.