_Oly._ I ruin'd her, I wrong'd her, I abus'd her; Poor innocent soul, I flung her; sweet _Alinda_, Thou vertuous maid, my soul now calls thee vertuous. Why do ye not rail now at me? _Al._ For what Lady? _Oly._ Call me base treacherous woman. _Al._ Heaven defend me. _Oly._ Rashly I thought her false, and put her from me, Rashly, and madly I betrai'd her modesty, Put her to wander, heaven knows where: nay, more Sir, Stuck a black brand upon her. _Al._ 'Twas not well Lady. _Oly._ 'Twas damnable: she loving me so dearly, Never poor wench lov'd so: Sir believe me, 'Twas the most dutious wench, the best companion, When I was pleas'd, the happiest, and the gladdest, The modestest sweet nature dwelt within her: I saw all this, I knew all this, I lov'd it, I doated on it too, and yet I kill'd it: O what have I forsaken? what have I lost? _Al._ Madam, I'le take my leave, since she is wandring, 'Tis fit I know no rest. _Oly._ Will you go too Sir? I have not wrong'd you yet, if you dare trust me, For yet I love _Alinda_ there, I honour her, I love to look upon those eyes that speak her, To read that face again, (modesty keep me,) _Alinda_, in that shape: but why should you trust me, 'Twas I betray'd your Sister, I undid her; And believe me, gentle youth, 'tis I weep for her: Appoint what penance you please: but stay then, And see me perform it: ask what honour this place Is able to heap on ye, or what wealth: If following me will like ye, my care of ye, Which for your sisters sake, for your own goodness-- _Al._ Not all the honour earth has, now she's gone Lady, Not all the favour; yet if I sought preferment, Under your bounteous Grace I would only take it. Peace rest upon ye: one sad tear every day For poor _Alindas_. sake, 'tis fit ye pay. [_Exit._ _Oly._ A thousand noble youth, and when I sleep, Even in my silver slumbers still I'le weep. [_Exit._ SCENA III. _Enter_ Duke, _and Gentlemen_. _Duke._ Have ye been with 'em? _Gent._ Yes, and't please your Grace, But no perswasion serves 'em, nor no promise, They are fearfull angry, and by this time Sir, Upon their march to the Enemy. _Du._ They must be stopt. _Enter_ Burris. _Gent._ I, but what force is able? and what leader-- _Du._ How now, have you been with _Archas_? _Bur._ Yes, and't please ye, And told him all: he frets like a chaf'd Lyon, And calls for his Arms: and all those honest Courtiers That dare draw Swords. _Du._ Is he able to do any thing? _Bur._ His mind is well enough; and where his charge is, Let him be ne're so sore, 'tis a full Army. _Du._ Who commands the Rebels? _Bur._ The young Colonel, That makes the old man almost mad: he swears Sir, He will not spare his Sons head for the Dukedom. _Du._ Is the Court in Arms?