SCENE IV.

Enter Archas and a Servant.

Ar. 'Tis strange To me to see the Court, and welcome: O Royal place, how have I lov'd and serv'd thee? Who lies on this side, know'st thou? Ser. The Lord Burris. Ar. Thou hast nam'd a Gentleman I stand much bound to: I think he sent the Casket, Sir? Ser. The same, Sir. Ar. An honest minded man, a noble Courtier: The Duke made perfect choice when he took him. Go you home, I shall hit the way Without a guide now. Ser. You may want something, Sir. Ar. Only my Horses, Which after Supper let the Groom wait with: I'le have no more attendance here. Ser. Your will, Sir. [Exit.

Enter Theodore.

Theo. You are well met here, Sir. Ar. How now boy, How dost thou? The. I should ask You that question: how do you, Sir? How do you feel your self? Ar. Why well, and lusty. The. What do you here then? Ar. Why I am sent for To Supper with the Duke. The. Have you no meat at home? Or do you long to feed as hunted Deer do, In doubt and fear? Ar. I have an excellent stomach, And can I use it better Than among my friends, Boy? How do the Wenches? The. They do well enough, Sir, They know the worst by this time: pray be rul'd, Sir, Go home again, and if ye have a Supper, Eat it in quiet there: this is no place for ye, Especially at this time, Take my word for't. Ar. May be they'll drink hard; I could have drunk my share, Boy. Though I am old, I will not out. The. I hope you will. Hark in your ear: the Court's Too quick of hearing. Ar. Not mean me well? Thou art abus'd and cozen'd. Away, away. The. To that end Sir, I tell ye. Away, if you love your self. Ar. Who dare do these things, That ever heard of honesty? The. Old Gentleman, Take a fools counsel. Ar. 'Tis a fools indeed; A very fools: thou hast more of These flams in thee, these musty doubts: Is't fit the Duke send for me, And honour me to eat within his presence, And I, like a tale fellow, play at bo-peep With his pleasure? The. Take heed Of bo-peep with your pate, your pate, Sir, I speak plain language now. Ar. If 'twere not here, Where reverence bids me hold, I would so swinge thee, thou rude, Unmanner'd Knave; take from his bounty, His honour that he gives me, to beget Sawcy, and sullen fears? The. You are not mad sure: By this fair light, I speak But what is whisper'd, And whisper'd for a truth. Ar. A Dog: drunken people, That in their Pot see visions, And turn states, mad-men and Children: Prethee do not follow me; I tell thee I am angry: Do not follow me. The. I am as angry As you for your heart, I and as wilful too: go, like a Wood-cock, And thrust your neck i'th' noose. Ar. I'le kill thee, And thou speakst but three words more. Do not follow me. [Exit. The. A strange old foolish fellow: I shall hear yet, And if I do not my part, hiss at me. [Exit.