_Aub._ Bawd of the State; No less than of thy masters lusts. I now See nothing can redeem thee; dost thou mention Affection, or a Heart, that ne'r hadst any? Knowst not to love or hate, but by the State, As thy Prince does't before thee? that dost never Wear thy own face, but put'st on his, and gather'st Baits for his Ears: liv'st wholly at his beck, And e're thou dar'st utter a thought's thine own, Must expect his; creep'st forth and wad'st into him As if thou wert to pass a Ford, there proving Yet if thy tongue may step on safely or no; Then bring'st his vertue asleep, and stay'st the wheel Both of his reason and judgment, that they move not, Whit'st over all his vices; and at last Dost draw a Cloud of words before his eyes, Till he can neither see thee nor himself? Wretch, I dare give him honest counsels, I, And love him while I tell him truth; old _Aubrey_ Dares goe the straightest way, which still's the shortest, Walk on the thorns thou scatter'st, Parasite, And tread 'em into nothing: and if thou Then let'st a look fall, of the least dislike, I'll rip thy Crown up with my Sword at height, And pluck thy skin over thy face, in sight Of him thou flatter'st; unto thee I speak it, Slave, against whom all Laws should now conspire, And every Creature that hath sense, be arm'd, As 'gainst the common Enemy of Mankind; That sleep'st within thy Masters Ear, and whisper'st 'Tis better for him to be fear'd than lov'd; Bid'st him trust no mans friendship, spare no blood That may secure him: 'tis no cruelty That hath a specious end; for Soveraignty Break all the Laws of kind; if it succeed, An honest, noble, and praise-worthy deed; While he that takes thy poysons in, shall feel Their virulent workings in a point of time, When no Repentance can bring aid, but all His spirits shall melt, with what his Conscience burn'd, And dying in flatterers arms, shall fall unmourn'd. There's matter for you now. _Lat._ My Lord, this makes not for loving of my Master. _Aub._ Loving? no; They hate ill Princes most that make them so. _Enter_ Rollo, Hamond, Allan, _Guard_. _Rol._ I'll hear no more. _Ham._ Alas, 'tis for my Brother: I beseech your Highness. _Rol._ How, a Brother? had not I one my self? did title Move me when it was fit that he should dye? away. _All._ Brother, lose no word more, leave my good Cause T' upbraid the Tyrant, I'm glad I'm faln Now in those times that will'd some great example T' assure men we can dye for honesty. _Rol._ Sir, you are brave, 'pray that you hold your neck As bravely forth anon unto your Headsman. _All._ Would he would strike as bravely, and thou by, Rollo, 'twould make thee quake to see me dye. _Aub._ What's his offence?