704Orl. Who's there?

705Ad. What my yong Master, oh my gentle master,

706Oh my sweet master, O you memorie

707Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here?

708Why are you vertuous? Why do people loue you?

709And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?

710Why would you be so fond to ouercome

711The bonnie priser of the humorous Duke?

712Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.

713Know you not Master, to seeme kinde of men,

714Their graces serue them but as enemies,

715No more doe yours: your vertues gentle Master

716Are sanctified and holy traitors to you:

717Oh what a world is this, when what is comely

718Enuenoms him that beares it?

719Why, what's the matter?

720Ad. O vnhappie youth,

721Come not within these doores: within this roofe

722The enemie of all your graces liues

723Your brother, no, no brother, yet the sonne

724(Yet not the son, I will not call him son)

725Of him I was about to call his Father,

726Hath heard your praises, and this night he meanes,

727To burne the lodging where you vse to lye,

728And you within it: if he faile of that

729He will haue other meanes to cut you off;

730I ouerheard him: and his practises:

731This is no place, this house is but a butcherie;

732Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it.

733Ad. Why whether Adam would'st thou haue me go?

734Ad. No matter whether, so you come not here.

735Orl. What, would'st thou haue me go & beg my food,

736Or with a base and boistrous Sword enforce

737A theeuish liuing on the common rode?

738This I must do, or know not what to do:

739Yet this I will not do, do how I can,

740I rather will subiect me to the malice

741Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother.

742Ad. But do not so: I haue fiue hundred Crownes,

743The thriftie hire I saued vnder your Father,

744Which I did store to be my foster Nurse,

745When seruice should in my old limbs lie lame,

746And vnregarded age in corners throwne,

747Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede,

748Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow,

749Be comfort to my age: here is the gold,

750All this I giue you, let me be your seruant,

751Though I looke old, yet I am strong and lustie;

752For in my youth I neuer did apply

753Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud,

754Nor did not with vnbashfull forehead woe,

755The meanes of weaknesse and debilitie,

756Therefore my age is as a lustie winter,

757Frostie, but kindely; let me goe with you,

758Ile doe the seruice of a yonger man

759In all your businesse and necessities.

760Orl. Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares

761The constant seruice of the antique world,

762When seruice sweate for dutie, not for meede:

763Thou art not for the fashion of these times,

764Where none will sweate, but for promotion,

765And hauing that do choake their seruice vp,

766Euen with the hauing, it is not so with thee:

767But poore old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,

768That cannot so much as a blossome yeelde,

769In lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie,

770But come thy waies, weele goe along together,

771And ere we haue thy youthfull wages spent,

772Weele light vpon some setled low content.

773Ad. Master goe on, and I will follow thee

774To the last gaspe with truth and loyaltie,

775From seauentie yeeres, till now almost fourescore

776Here liued I, but now liue here no more

777At seauenteene yeeres, many their fortunes seeke

778But at fourescore, it is too late a weeke,

779Yet fortune cannot recompence me better