I beseech you That my refusal of so great an offer May make no ill construction, 'tis not pride (That common vice is far from my condition) That makes you a denyal to receive A favour I should sue for: nor the fashion Which the Country follows, in which to be a servant In those that groan beneath the heavy weight Of poverty, is held an argument Of a base abject mind, I wish my years Were fit to do you service in a nature That might become a Gentleman (give me leave To think my self one) My Father serv'd the King As a Captain in the field; and though his fortune Return'd him home a poor man, he was rich In Reputation, and wounds fairly taken. Nor am I by his ill success deterr'd, I rather feel a strong desire that sways me To follow his profession, and if Heaven Hath mark'd me out to be a man, how proud, In the service of my Country, should I be, To trail a Pike under your brave command! There, I would follow you as a guide to honour, Though all the horrours of the War made up To stop my passage. _Jam_. Thou art a hopeful Boy, And it was bravely spoken: For this answer, I love thee more than ever. _Mil_. Pity such seeds Of promising courage should not grow and prosper. _Ang_. What ever his reputed Parents be, He hath a mind that speaks him right and noble. _Lean_. You make him blush; it needs not sweet _Ascanio_, We may hear praises when they are deserv'd, Our modesty unwounded. By my life I would add something to the building up So fair a mind, and if till you are fit To bear Arms in the Field, you'l spend some years In _Salamanca_, I'le supply your studies With all conveniences. _Asc_. Your goodness (Signiors) And charitable favours overwhelm me. If I were of your blood, you could not be More tender of me: what then can I pay (A poor Boy and a stranger) but a heart Bound to your service? with what willingness I would receive (good Sir) your noble offer, Heaven can bear witness for me: but alas, Should I embrace the means to raise my fortunes, I must destroy the lives of my poor Parents (To who[m] I ow my being) they in me Place all their comforts, and (as if I were The light of their dim eyes) are so indulgent They cannot brook one short dayes absence from me; And (what will hardly win belief) though young, I am their Steward and their Nurse: the bounties Which others bestow on me serves to sustain 'em, And to forsake them in their age, in me Were more than Murther. _Enter_ Henrique. _Aug_. This is a kind of begging Would make a Broker charitable. _Mil_. Here, (sweet heart) I wish it were more. _Lean_. When this is spent, Seek for supply from me. _Jam_.