State commaunds me
And in my Cuntries eye appeere but lovely,
I shall sitt downe, though old and bruizd yet happie;
Nor can the bitter and bold tounge of mallice,
That never yet spoke well of faire deservings,
With all hir course aspersions floong upon me
Make me forsake my dutie, touch or shake me
Or gaine so much upon me as an anger,
Whilst here I hold me loyall. Yet believe, Gentlemen,
Theis wrongs are neither few nor slight, nor followed
By liberall tongues provokd by want or wine,
For such were to be smild at and so slighted,
But by those men, and shot so neer mine honour
I feare my person too; but, so the State suffer not,
I am as easie to forget.

_Will_. Too easie;
And that feeds up their mallice to a Monster.
You are the arme oth' war, the Soldiers sperit;
The other but dead stories, you the dooer.

_Col_. It stands not with the honour you have won, Sir,
Still built upon and betterd.

_Or_. No more, good Collonell.

_Col_. The love the Soldier beares you to give way thus!
To have your actions consturd, scornd and scoffd at
By such malignant soules! you are yourself, Sir,
And master of more mindes that love and honour ye.[152]

_Will_. Yf you would see it; but take through the mallice
The evill intended now, now bent upon ye.

_Or_. I pray ye, no more; as you love me, no more.
Stupid I never was nor so secure yet
To lead my patience to mine owne betraying:
I shall find time and riper cause.-- [_Guard at dore_.
Now, frends,
Are my Lords the States set yet.

1 _Gu_. An houre agoe, Sir.

_Or_. Beshrew ye, Gentlemen, you have made me tardy:
Open the dore,

1 _Gu_. I beseech your Grace to pardon me.[153]

_Or_. Do'st thou know who I am?

1 _Gu_. Yes, Sir, and honour you.

_Or_. Why do'st thou keep the dore fast then?

_Will_. Thou fellow,
Thou sawcy fellow, and you that stand by gaping!
Is the Prince of no more value, no more respect
Then like a Page?

2 _Gu_. We beseech your Excellencies
To pardon us; our duties are not wanting,
Nor dare we entertaine a thought to crosse ye:
We are placed here on Commaund.

_Or_. To keepe me out?
Have I lost my place in Councell? are my services
Growne to so poore regards, my worth so bankrupt?
Or am I tainted with dishonest actions,
That I am held unfitt my Cuntries busines?
Who placd ye here?

1 _Gu_. The body of the Councell;
And we beseech your Grace make it not our syn:
They gave us strict commaund to stop your p