Beggars Bush: A Comedy. Beaumont Francis

by your fair reports of him prefer'd?

      And what is more I made my self your Servant,

      In making you the Master of those secrets

      Which not the rack of Conscience could draw from me,

      Nor I, when I askt mercy, trust my prayers with;

      Yet after these assurances of love,

      These tyes and bonds of friendship, to forsake me?

      Forsake me as an enemy? come you must

      Give me a reason.

      Hub. Sir, and so I will, If I may do't in private: and you hear it.

      Wol. All leave the room: you have your will, sit down

      And use the liberty of our first friendship.

      Hub. Friendship? when you prov'd Traitor first, that vanish'd,

      Nor do I owe you any thought, but hate,

      I know my flight hath forfeited my head;

      And so I may make you first understand

      What a strange monster you have made your self,

      I welcome it.

      Wol. To me this is strange language.

      Hub. To you? why what are you?

      Wol. Your Prince and Master, The Earl of Flanders.

      Hub. By a proper title!

      Rais'd to it by cunning, circumvention, force,

      Blood, and proscriptions.

      Wol. And in all this wisdom,

      Had I not reason? when by Gerrards plots

      I should have first been call'd to a strict accompt

      How, and which way I had consum'd that mass

      Of money, as they term it, in the War,

      Who underhand had by his Ministers

      Detracted my great action, made my faith

      And loyalty suspected, in which failing

      He sought my life by practice.

      Hub. With what fore-head

      Do you speak this to me? who (as I know't)

      Must, and will say 'tis false.

      Wol. My Guard there.

      Hub. Sir, you bad me sit, and promis'd you would hear,

      Which I now say you shall; not a sound more,

      For I that am contemner of mine own,

      Am Master of your life; then here's a Sword

      Between you, and all aids, Sir, though you blind

      The credulous beast, the multitude, you pass not

      These gross untruths on me.

      Wol. How? gross untruths?

      Hub. I, and it is favourable language,

      They had been in a mean man lyes, and foul ones.

      Wol. You take strange Licence.

      Hub. Yes, were not those rumours

      Of being called unto your answer, spread

      By your own followers? and weak Gerrard wrought

      (But by your cunning practice) to believe

      That you were dangerous; yet not to be

      Punish'd by any formal course of Law,

      But first to be made sure, and have your crimes

      Laid open after, which your quaint train taking

      You fled unto the Camp, and [there] crav'd humbly

      Protection for your innocent life, and that,

      Since you had scap'd the fury of the War,

      You might not fall by treason: and for proof,

      You did not for your own ends make this danger;

      Some that had been before by you suborn'd,

      Came forth and took their Oaths they had been hir'd

      By Gerrard to your Murther. This once heard,

      And easily believ'd, th'inraged Souldier

      Seeing no further than the outward-man,

      Snatch'd hastily his Arms, ran to the Court,

      Kill'd all that made resistance, cut in pieces

      Such as were Servants, or thought friends to Gerrard,

      Vowing the like to him.

      Wol. Will you yet end?

      Hub. Which he foreseeing, with his Son, the Earl,

      Forsook the City; and by secret wayes

      As you give out, and we would gladly have it,

      Escap'd their fury: though 'tis more than fear'd

      They fell amongst the rest; Nor stand you there

      To let us only mourn the impious means

      By which you got it, but your cruelties since

      So far transcend your former bloody ills,

      As if compar'd, they only would appear

      Essays of mischief; do not stop your ears,

      More are behind yet.

      Wol. O repeat them not,

      'Tis Hell to hear them nam'd.

      Hub. You should have thought,

      That Hell would be your punishment when you did them,

      A Prince in nothing but your princely lusts,

      And boundless rapines.

      Wol. No more I beseech you.

      Hub. Who was the Lord of house or land, that stood

      Within the prospect of your covetous eye?

      Wol. You are in this to me a greater Tyrant,

      Than e're I was to any.

      Hub. I end thus

      The general grief: now to my private wrong;

      The loss of Gerrards Daughter Jaqueline:

      The hop'd for partner of my lawful Bed,

      Your cruelty hath frighted from mine arms;

      And her I now was wandring to recover.

      Think you that I had reason now to leave you,

      When you are grown so justly odious,

      That ev'n my stay here with your grace and favour,

      Makes my life irksome? here, surely take it,

      And do me but this fruit of all your friendship,

      That I may dye by you, and not your Hang-man.

      Wol. Oh Hubert, these your words and reasons have

      As well drawn drops of blood from my griev'd heart,

      As these tears from mine eyes;

      Despise them not.

      By all that's sacred, I am serious, Hubert,

      You now have made me sensible, what furies,

      Whips, Hangmen, and Tormentors a bad man

      Do's ever bear about him: let the good

      That you this day have done, be