_Arch._ You'l find a better, A greater, and a stronger man to lead ye, And to a stronger fortune: I am old, friends, Time, and the wars together make me stoop, Gentle[men], Stoop to my grave: my mind unfurnish'd too, Emptie and weak as I am: my poor body, Able for nothing now but contemplation, And that will be a task too to a Souldier: Yet had they but encourag'd me, or thought well Of what I have done, I think I should have ventur'd For one knock more, I should have made a shift yet To have broke one staff more handsomly, and have died Like a good fellow, and an honest Souldier, In the head of ye all, with my Sword in my hand, And so have made an end of all with credit. _Theod._ Well, there will come an hour, when all these injuries, These secure slights-- _Ar._ Ha! no more of that sirrah, Not one word more of that I charge ye. _Theod._ I must speak Sir. And may that tongue forget to sound your service, That's dumb to your abuses. _Ar._ Understand fool, That voluntary I sit down. _Theod._ You are forced, Sir, Forced for your safety: I too well remember The time and cause, and I may live to curse 'em: You made this Vow, and whose unnobleness, Indeed forgetfulness of good-- _Ar._ No more, As thou art mine no more. _The._ Whose doubts and envies-- But the Devil will have his due. _Puts._ Good gentle Colonel. _The._ And though disgraces, and contempt of Honour Reign now, the Wheel must turn again. _Ar._ Peace Sirrah, Your tongue's too saucy: do you stare upon me? Down with that heart, down suddenly, down with it, Down with that disobedience; tye that tongue up. _Theod._ Tongue? _Ar._ Do not provoke me to forget my Vow, Sirrah. And draw that fatal Sword again in anger. _Puts._ For Heavens sake, Colonel. _Ar._ Do not let me doubt Whose Son thou art, because thou canst not suffer: Do not play with mine anger; if thou dost, By all the Loyalty my heart holds-- _Theod._ I have done, Sir, Pray pardon me. _Ar._ I pray be worthy of it: Beshrew your heart, you have vext me. _The._ I am sorry, Sir. _Ar._ Go to, no more of this: be true and honest, I know ye are man enough, mould it to just ends, And let not my disgraces, then I am miserable, When I have nothing left me but thy angers. _Flourish. Enter Duke_, Burris, Boroskie, _Attend. and Gent_. _Puts._ And't please ye, Sir, the Duke. _Duk._ Now, what's all this? The meaning of this ceremonious Emblem? _Ar._ Your Grace should first remember-- _Boros._ There's his Nature. _Duk._ I do, and shall remember still that injury, That at the Muster, where it pleas'd your Greatness To laugh at my poor Souldiership, to scorn it; And more to make me seem ridiculous, Took from my hands my charge. _Bur._ O think not so, Sir. _Duk._ And in my Fathers sight.