The portraiture of Clermont throughout the play as the high-souled philosopher is inspired by Epictetus's delineation in his Discourses of the ideal Stoic. But in his reluctance to carry out his duty of revenge he is evidently modelled upon Hamlet. In Act V, Scene i, the influence of Shakespeare's tragedy is specially manifest.

The Scenes in Act V relating to the assassination of Guise are based upon Grimeston's translation of De Serres's Inventaire General.

The passages in Grimeston's volume which recount the Duke's murder, and those which tell the story of the Count d'Auvergne, are reprinted as an Appendix.

The frontispiece to this volume, the Chateau of La Coutanciere, at which Bussy D'Ambois was killed, is reproduced from an illustration in A. Joubert's Louis de Clermont.



TO THE RIGHT

VERTUOUS, AND

truely Noble Knight, Sr.

Thomas Howard, &c.

Sir,

Since workes of this kinde have beene lately esteemed worthy the patronage of some of our worthiest Nobles, I have made no doubt to preferre this of mine to your undoubted vertue and exceeding true noblesse, as contayning matter no lesse deserving your reading, 5 and excitation to heroycall life, then any such late dedication. Nor have the greatest Princes of Italie and other countries conceived it any least diminution to their greatnesse to have their names wing'd with these tragicke plumes, and disperst by way of patronage through the 10 most noble notices of Europe.

Howsoever, therefore, in the scaenicall presentation it might meete with some maligners, yet, considering even therein it past with approbation of more worthy judgements, the ballance of their side (especially being held 15 by your impartiall hand) I hope will to no graine abide the out-weighing. And for the autenticall truth of eyther person or action, who (worth the respecting) will expect it in a poeme, whose subject is not truth, but things like truth? Poore envious soules they are that cavill at truths 20 want in these naturall fictions: materiall instruction, elegant and sententious excitation to vertue, and deflection from her contrary, being the soule, lims, and limits of an autenticall tragedie. But whatsoever merit of your full countenance and favour suffers defect in this, I shall soone 25 supply with some other of more generall account; wherein your right vertuous name made famous and preserved to posteritie, your future comfort and honour in your present acceptation and love of all vertuous and divine expression may be so much past others of your rancke encreast, as 30 they are short of your judiciall ingenuitie, in their due estimation.

For howsoever those ignoble and sowre-brow'd worldlings are carelesse of whatsoever future or present opinion spreads of them; yet (with the most divine 35 philosopher, if Scripture did not confirme it) I make it matter of my faith, that we truely retaine an intellectuall feeling of good or bad after this life, proportionably answerable to the love or neglect we beare here to all vertue and truely-humane instruction: in whose favour 40 and honour I wish you most eminent, and rest ever,

Your true vertues most true observer, Geo. Chapman.



THE ACTORS NAMES

Henry, the King. Monsieur, his Brother. Guise, D[uke]. Renel, a Marquesse. Montsureau, an Earle. Baligny, Lord Lieutenant [of Cambray]. Clermont D'Ambois. Maillard. } Challon. } Captaines. Aumal. } Espernone. Soissone. Perricot, [An Usher.] [A Messenger.] The Guard. Souldiers. Servants.

{ Bussy. { Monsieur. The ghost[s] of { Guise. { Card. Guise. { Shattilion.

Countesse of Cambray. Tamyra, wife to Montsureau. Charlotte [D'Ambois], wife to Baligny. Riova, a Servant [to the Countesse].

[SCENE: Paris, and in or near Cambrai.]



The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois

A Tragedie



ACTUS PRIMI SCAENA PRIMA.

A Room at the Court in Paris.]

Enter Baligny, Renel.

Baligny. To what will this declining kingdome turne, Swindging in every license, as in this Stupide permission of brave D'Ambois Murther? Murther made paralell with Law! Murther us'd To serve the kingdome, given by sute to men 5 For their advancement! suffered scarcrow-like To fright adulterie! what will policie At length bring under his capacitie?

Renel. All things; for as, when the high births of Kings, Deliverances, and coronations, 10 We celebrate with all the cities bels Jangling together in untun'd confusion, All order'd clockes are tyed up; so, when glory, Flatterie, and smooth applauses of things ill, Uphold th'inordinate swindge of downe-right power, 15 Justice, and truth that tell the bounded use, Vertuous and well distinguisht formes of time, Are gag'd and tongue-tide. But wee have observ'd Rule in more regular motion: things most lawfull Were once most royall; Kings sought common good, 20 Mens manly liberties, though ne'er so meane, And had their owne swindge so more free, and more. But when pride enter'd them, and rule by power, All browes that smil'd beneath them, frown'd; hearts griev'd By imitation; vertue quite was vanisht, 25 And all men studi'd selfe-love, fraud, and vice. Then no man could be good but he was punisht. Tyrants, being still more fearefull of the good Then of the bad, their subjects vertues ever Manag'd with curbs and dangers, and esteem'd 30 As shadowes and detractions to their owne.

Bal. Now all is peace, no danger, now what followes? Idlenesse rusts us, since no vertuous labour Ends ought rewarded; ease, securitie, Now all the palme weares. Wee made warre before 35 So to prevent warre; men with giving gifts, More then receiving, made our countrey strong; Our matchlesse race of souldiers then would spend In publike warres, not private brawles, their spirits; In daring enemies, arm'd with meanest armes, 40 Not courting strumpets, and consuming birth-rights In apishnesse and envy of attire. No labour then was harsh, no way so deepe, No rocke so steepe, but if a bird could scale it, Up would our youth flie to. A foe in armes 45 Stirr'd up a much more lust of his encounter Then of a mistresse never so be-painted. Ambition then was onely scaling walles, And over-topping turrets; fame was wealth; Best parts, best deedes, were best nobilitie; 50 Honour with worth, and wealth well got or none. Countries we wonne with as few men as countries: Vertue subdu'd all.

Ren. Just: and then our nobles Lov'd vertue so, they prais'd and us'd it to; Had rather doe then say; their owne deedes hearing 55 By others glorified, then be so barraine That their parts onely stood in praising others.

Bal. Who could not doe, yet prais'd, and envi'd not; Civile behaviour flourisht; bountie flow'd; Avarice to upland boores, slaves, hang-men banisht. 60

Ren. Tis now quite otherwise. But to note the cause Of all these foule digressions and revolts From our first natures, this tis in a word: Since good arts faile, crafts and deceits are us'd: Men ignorant are idle; idle men 65 Most practise what they most may doe with ease, Fashion and favour; all their studies ayming At getting money, which no wise man ever Fed his desires with.

Bal. Yet now none are wise That thinke not heavens true foolish, weigh'd with that. 70 Well, thou most worthy to be greatest Guise, Make with thy greatnesse a new world arise. Such deprest nobles (followers of his) As you, my selfe, my lord, will finde a time When to revenge your wrongs.

Ren. I make no doubt: 75 In meane time, I could wish the wrong were righted Of your slaine brother in law, brave Bussy D'Ambois.

Bal. That one accident was made my charge. My brother Bussy's sister (now my wife) By no suite would consent to satisfie 80 My love of her with marriage, till I vow'd To use my utmost to revenge my brother: But Clermont D'Ambois (Bussy's second brother) Had, since, his apparition, and excitement To suffer none but his hand in his wreake; 85 Which hee hath vow'd, and so will needes acquite Me of my vow made to my wife, his sister, And undertake himselfe Bussy's revenge. Yet loathing any way to give it act, But in the noblest and most manly course, 90 If th'Earle dares take it, he resolves to send A challenge to him, and my selfe must beare it; To which deliverie I can use no meanes, He is so barricado'd in his house, And arm'd with guard still.

Ren. That meanes lay on mee, 95 Which I can strangely make. My last lands sale, By his great suite, stands now on price with him, And hee (as you know) passing covetous, With that blinde greedinesse that followes gaine, Will cast no danger where her sweete feete tread. 100 Besides, you know, his lady, by his suite (Wooing as freshly as when first love shot His faultlesse arrowes from her rosie eyes) Now lives with him againe, and shee, I know, Will joyne with all helps in her friends revenge. 105

Bal. No doubt, my lord, and therefore let me pray you To use all speede; for so on needels points My wifes heart stands with haste of the revenge, Being (as you know) full of her brothers fire, That shee imagines I neglect my vow; 110 Keepes off her kinde embraces, and still askes, "When, when, will this revenge come? when perform'd Will this dull vow be?" And, I vow to heaven, So sternely, and so past her sexe she urges My vowes performance, that I almost feare 115 To see her, when I have a while beene absent, Not showing her, before I speake, the bloud She so much thirsts for, freckling hands and face.

Ren. Get you the challenge writ, and looke from me To heare your passage clear'd no long time after. Exit Ren[el]. 120

Bal. All restitution to your worthiest lordship! Whose errand I must carrie to the King, As having sworne my service in the search Of all such malecontents and their designes, By seeming one affected with their faction 125 And discontented humours gainst the state: Nor doth my brother Clermont scape my counsaile Given to the King about his Guisean greatnesse, Which (as I spice it) hath possest the King, Knowing his daring spirit, of much danger 130 Charg'd in it to his person; though my conscience Dare sweare him cleare of any power to be Infected with the least dishonestie: Yet that sinceritie, wee politicians Must say, growes out of envie since it cannot 135 Aspire to policies greatnesse; and the more We worke on all respects of kinde and vertue, The more our service to the King seemes great, In sparing no good that seemes bad to him: And the more bad we make the most of good, 140 The more our policie searcheth, and our service Is wonder'd at for wisedome and sincerenesse. Tis easie to make good suspected still, Where good, and God, are made but cloakes for ill.

[Sidenote: Enter Henry, Monsieur, Guise, Clerm[ont], Espernone, Soisson. Monsieur taking leave of the King.]

See Monsieur taking now his leave for Brabant; 145 The Guise & his deare minion, Clermont D'Ambois, Whispering together, not of state affaires, I durst lay wagers, (though the Guise be now In chiefe heate of his faction) but of some thing Savouring of that which all men else despise, 150 How to be truely noble, truely wise.

Monsieur. See how hee hangs upon the eare of Guise, Like to his jewell!

Epernon. Hee's now whisp'ring in Some doctrine of stabilitie and freedome, Contempt of outward greatnesse, and the guises 155 That vulgar great ones make their pride and zeale, Being onely servile traines, and sumptuous houses, High places, offices.

Mons. Contempt of these Does he read to the Guise? Tis passing needfull, And hee, I thinke, makes show t'affect his doctrine. 160

Ep. Commends, admires it—

Mons. And pursues another. Tis fine hypocrisie, and cheape, and vulgar, Knowne for a covert practise, yet beleev'd By those abus'd soules that they teach and governe No more then wives adulteries by their husbands, 165 They bearing it with so unmov'd aspects, Hot comming from it, as twere not [at] all, Or made by custome nothing. This same D'Ambois Hath gotten such opinion of his vertues, Holding all learning but an art to live well, 170 And showing hee hath learn'd it in his life, Being thereby strong in his perswading others, That this ambitious Guise, embracing him, Is thought t'embrace his vertues.

Ep. Yet in some His vertues are held false for th'others vices: 175 For tis more cunning held, and much more common, To suspect truth then falshood: and of both Truth still fares worse, as hardly being beleev'd, As tis unusuall and rarely knowne.

Mons. Ile part engendring vertue. Men affirme, 180 Though this same Clermont hath a D'Ambois spirit, And breathes his brothers valour, yet his temper Is so much past his that you cannot move him: Ile try that temper in him.—Come, you two Devoure each other with your vertues zeale, 185 And leave for other friends no fragment of yee: I wonder, Guise, you will thus ravish him Out of my bosome, that first gave the life His manhood breathes spirit, and meanes, and luster. What doe men thinke of me, I pray thee, Clermont? 190 Once give me leave (for tryall of that love That from thy brother Bussy thou inherit'st) T'unclaspe thy bosome.

Clermont. As how, sir?

Mons. Be a true glasse to mee, in which I may Behold what thoughts the many-headed beast 195 And thou thy selfe breathes out concerning me, My ends and new upstarted state in Brabant, For which I now am bound, my higher aymes Imagin'd here in France: speake, man, and let Thy words be borne as naked as thy thoughts. 200 O were brave Bussy living!

Cler. Living, my lord!

Mons. Tis true thou art his brother, but durst thou Have brav'd the Guise; mauger his presence, courted His wedded lady; emptied even the dregs Of his worst thoughts of mee even to my teeth; 205 Discern'd not me, his rising soveraigne, From any common groome, but let me heare My grossest faults, as grosse-full as they were? Durst thou doe this?

Cler. I cannot tell. A man Does never know the goodnesse of his stomacke 210 Till hee sees meate before him. Were I dar'd, Perhaps, as he was, I durst doe like him.

Mons. Dare then to poure out here thy freest soule Of what I am.

Cler. Tis stale, he tolde you it.

Mons. He onely jested, spake of splene and envie; 215 Thy soule, more learn'd, is more ingenuous, Searching, judiciall; let me then from thee Heare what I am.

Cler. What but the sole support, And most expectant hope of all our France, The toward victor of the whole Low Countryes? 220

Mons. Tush, thou wilt sing encomions of my praise! Is this like D'Ambois? I must vexe the Guise, Or never looke to heare free truth. Tell me, For Bussy lives not; hee durst anger mee, Yet, for my love, would not have fear'd to anger 225 The King himselfe. Thou understand'st me, dost not?

Cler. I shall my lord, with studie.

Mons. Dost understand thy selfe? I pray thee tell me, Dost never search thy thoughts, what my designe Might be to entertaine thee and thy brother? 230 What turne I meant to serve with you?

Cler. Even what you please to thinke.

Mons. But what thinkst thou? Had I no end in't, think'st?

Cler. I thinke you had.

Mons. When I tooke in such two as you two were, A ragged couple of decaid commanders, 235 When a French-crowne would plentifully serve To buy you both to any thing i'th'earth—

Cler. So it would you.

Mons. Nay bought you both out-right, You and your trunkes—I feare me, I offend thee.

Cler. No, not a jot.

Mons. The most renowmed souldier, 240 Epaminondas (as good authors say) Had no more suites then backes, but you two shar'd But one suite twixt you both, when both your studies Were not what meate to dine with, if your partridge, Your snipe, your wood-cocke, larke, or your red hering, 245 But where to begge it; whether at my house, Or at the Guises (for you know you were Ambitious beggars) or at some cookes-shop, T'eternize the cookes trust, and score it up. Dost not offend thee?

Cler. No, sir. Pray proceede. 250

Mons. As for thy gentry, I dare boldly take Thy honourable othe: and yet some say Thou and thy most renowmed noble brother Came to the Court first in a keele of sea-coale. Dost not offend thee?

Cler. Never doubt it, sir. 255

Mons. Why doe I love thee, then? Why have I rak'd thee Out of the dung-hill? cast my cast ward-robe on thee? Brought thee to Court to, as I did thy brother? Made yee my sawcy bon companions? Taught yee to call our greatest Noblemen 260 By the corruption of their names—Jack, Tom? Have I blowne both for nothing to this bubble? Though thou art learn'd, thast no enchanting wit; Or, were thy wit good, am I therefore bound To keepe thee for my table?

Cler. Well, sir, 'twere 265 A good knights place. Many a proud dubb'd gallant Seekes out a poore knights living from such emrods.

[Mons.] Or what use else should I designe thee to? Perhaps you'll answere me—to be my pander.

Cler. Perhaps I shall.

Mons. Or did the slie Guise put thee 270 Into my bosome t'undermine my projects? I feare thee not; for, though I be not sure I have thy heart, I know thy braine-pan yet To be as emptie a dull piece of wainscot As ever arm'd the scalpe of any courtier; 275 A fellow onely that consists of sinewes; Meere Swisser, apt for any execution.

Cler. But killing of the King!

Mons. Right: now I see Thou understand'st thy selfe.

Cler. I, and you better. You are a Kings sonne borne.

Mons. Right.

Cler. And a Kings brother. 280

Mons. True.

Cler. And might not any foole have beene so too, As well as you?

Mons. A poxe upon you!

Cler. You did no princely deedes Ere you were borne (I take it) to deserve it; 285 Nor did you any since that I have heard; Nor will doe ever any, as all thinke.

Mons. The Divell take him! Ile no more of him.

Guise. Nay: stay, my lord, and heare him answere you.

Mons. No more, I sweare. Farewell. Ex[eunt] Mons[ieur], Esper[none], Soiss[on].

Gui. No more! Ill fortune! 290 I would have given a million to have heard His scoffes retorted, and the insolence Of his high birth and greatnesse (which were never Effects of his deserts, but of his fortune) Made show to his dull eyes beneath the worth 295 That men aspire to by their knowing vertues, Without which greatnesse is a shade, a bubble.

Cler. But what one great man dreames of that but you? All take their births and birth-rights left to them (Acquir'd by others) for their owne worths purchase, 300 When many a foole in both is great as they: And who would thinke they could winne with their worths Wealthy possessions, when, wonne to their hands, They neyther can judge justly of their value, Nor know their use? and therefore they are puft 305 With such proud tumours as this Monsieur is, Enabled onely by the goods they have To scorne all goodnesse: none great fill their fortunes; But as those men that make their houses greater, Their housholds being lesse, so Fortune raises 310 Huge heapes of out-side in these mightie men, And gives them nothing in them.

Gui. True as truth: And therefore they had rather drowne their substance In superfluities of brickes and stones (Like Sysiphus, advancing of them ever, 315 And ever pulling downe) then lay the cost Of any sluttish corner on a man, Built with Gods finger, and enstil'd his temple.

Bal. Tis nobly said, my lord.

Gui. I would have these things Brought upon stages, to let mightie misers 320 See all their grave and serious miseries plaid, As once they were in Athens and olde Rome.

Cler. Nay, we must now have nothing brought on stages, But puppetry, and pide ridiculous antickes: Men thither come to laugh, and feede fool-fat, 325 Checke at all goodnesse there, as being prophan'd: When, wheresoever goodnesse comes, shee makes The place still sacred, though with other feete Never so much tis scandal'd and polluted. Let me learne anything that fits a man, 330 In any stables showne, as well as stages.

Bal. Why, is not all the world esteem'd a stage?

Cler. Yes, and right worthily; and stages too Have a respect due to them, if but onely For what the good Greeke moralist sayes of them: 335 "Is a man proud of greatnesse, or of riches? Give me an expert actor, Ile shew all, That can within his greatest glory fall. Is a man fraid with povertie and lownesse? Give me an actor, Ile shew every eye 340 What hee laments so, and so much doth flye, The best and worst of both." If but for this then, To make the proudest out-side that most swels With things without him, and above his worth, See how small cause hee has to be so blowne up; 345 And the most poore man, to be griev'd with poorenesse, Both being so easily borne by expert actors, The stage and actors are not so contemptfull As every innovating Puritane, And ignorant sweater out of zealous envie 350 Would have the world imagine. And besides That all things have been likened to the mirth Us'd upon stages, and for stages fitted, The splenative philosopher, that ever Laught at them all, were worthy the enstaging. 355 All objects, were they ne'er so full of teares, He so conceited that he could distill thence Matter that still fed his ridiculous humour. Heard he a lawyer, never so vehement pleading, Hee stood and laught. Heard hee a trades-man swearing, 360 Never so thriftily selling of his wares, He stood and laught. Heard hee an holy brother, For hollow ostentation, at his prayers Ne'er so impetuously, hee stood and laught. Saw hee a great man never so insulting, 365 Severely inflicting, gravely giving lawes, Not for their good, but his, hee stood and laught. Saw hee a youthfull widow Never so weeping, wringing of her hands For her lost lord, still the philosopher laught. 370 Now whether hee suppos'd all these presentments Were onely maskeries, and wore false faces, Or else were simply vaine, I take no care; But still hee laught, how grave soere they were.

Gui. And might right well, my Clermont; and for this 375 Vertuous digression we will thanke the scoffes Of vicious Monsieur. But now for the maine point Of your late resolution for revenge Of your slaine friend.

Cler. I have here my challenge, Which I will pray my brother Baligny 380 To beare the murtherous Earle.

Bal. I have prepar'd Meanes for accesse to him, through all his guard.

Gui. About it then, my worthy Baligny, And bring us the successe.

Bal. I will, my lord. Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

Enter Henry . . . King. Placed by editor after 144 instead of 145, as in Q. Soisson. Ed.; Q, Foisson.

167 at. Added by ed.

174 t'embrace. Ed.; Q, t'mbrace.

260 Noblemen. Two words in Q.

268 Mons. Q omits; added in MS. in one of the copies in the Brit. Mus.

278-284 The lines are broken in the Q at King, see, selfe, better, Right, True, too, upon you, deedes.

285 you were. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, you're.

335 moralist. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Moralists.

359-61 Heard . . . wares. So punctuated by ed.; Q, Heard hee a trades-man swearing Never so thriftily (selling of his wares).

[SCAENA SECUNDA.

A Room in Montsurry's house.]

Tamyra sola.

Tamyra. Revenge, that ever red sitt'st in the eyes Of injur'd ladies, till we crowne thy browes With bloudy lawrell, and receive from thee Justice for all our honours injurie; Whose wings none flye that wrath or tyrannie 5 Have ruthlesse made and bloudy, enter here, Enter, O enter! and, though length of time Never lets any scape thy constant justice, Yet now prevent that length. Flye, flye, and here Fixe thy steele foot-steps; here, O here, where still 10 Earth (mov'd with pittie) yeelded and embrac'd My loves faire figure, drawne in his deare bloud, And mark'd the place, to show thee where was done The cruell'st murther that ere fled the sunne. O Earth! why keep'st thou not as well his spirit, 15 To give his forme life? No, that was not earthly; That (rarefying the thinne and yeelding ayre) Flew sparkling up into the sphaere of fire Whence endlesse flames it sheds in my desire. Here be my daily pallet; here all nights 20 That can be wrested from thy rivals armes, O my deare Bussy, I will lye, and kisse Spirit into thy bloud, or breathe out mine In sighes, and kisses, and sad tunes to thine. She sings.

Enter Montsurry.

Montsurry. Still on this hant? Still shall adulterous bloud 25 Affect thy spirits? Thinke, for shame, but this, This bloud, that cockatrice-like thus thou brood'st, To dry is to breede any quench to thine. And therefore now (if onely for thy lust A little cover'd with a vaile of shame) 30 Looke out for fresh life, rather then witch-like Learne to kisse horror, and with death engender. Strange crosse in nature, purest virgine shame Lies in the bloud as lust lyes; and together Many times mixe too; and in none more shamefull 35 Then in the shamefac't. Who can then distinguish Twixt their affections; or tell when hee meetes With one not common? Yet, as worthiest poets Shunne common and plebeian formes of speech, Every illiberall and affected phrase, 40 To clothe their matter, and together tye Matter and forme with art and decencie; So worthiest women should shunne vulgar guises, And though they cannot but flye out for change, Yet modestie, the matter of their lives, 45 Be it adulterate, should be painted true With modest out-parts; what they should doe still Grac'd with good show, though deedes be ne'er so ill.

Tamy. That is so farre from all yee seeke of us That (though your selves be common as the ayre) 50 We must not take the ayre, wee must not fit Our actions to our owne affections: But as geometricians (you still say) Teach that no lines, nor superficies, Doe move themselves, but still accompanie 55 The motions of their bodies; so poore wives Must not pursue, nor have their owne affections, But to their husbands earnests, and their jests, To their austerities of lookes, and laughters, (Though ne'er so foolish and injurious) 60 Like parasites and slaves, fit their disposures.

Mont. I usde thee as my soule, to move and rule me.

Tamy. So said you, when you woo'd. So souldiers tortur'd With tedious sieges of some wel-wall'd towne, Propound conditions of most large contents, 65 Freedome of lawes, all former government; But having once set foote within the wals, And got the reynes of power into their hands, Then doe they tyrannize at their owne rude swindges, Seaze all their goods, their liberties, and lives, 70 And make advantage, and their lusts, their lawes.

Mont. But love me, and performe a wifes part yet, With all my love before, I sweare forgivenesse.

Tamy. Forgivenesse! that grace you should seeke of mee: These tortur'd fingers and these stab'd-through armes 75 Keepe that law in their wounds yet unobserv'd, And ever shall.

Mont. Remember their deserts.

Tam. Those with faire warnings might have beene reform'd, Not these unmanly rages. You have heard The fiction of the north winde and the sunne, 80 Both working on a traveller, and contending Which had most power to take his cloake from him: Which when the winde attempted, hee roar'd out Outragious blasts at him to force it off, That wrapt it closer on: when the calme sunne 85 (The winde once leaving) charg'd him with still beames, Quiet and fervent, and therein was constant, Which made him cast off both his cloake and coate; Like whom should men doe. If yee wish your wives Should leave dislik'd things, seeke it not with rage, 90 For that enrages; what yee give, yee have: But use calme warnings, and kinde manly meanes, And that in wives most prostitute will winne Not onely sure amends, but make us wives Better then those that ne'er led faultie lives. 95

Enter a Souldier.

Soldier. My lord.

Mont. How now; would any speake with me?

Sold. I, sir.

Mont. Perverse, and traiterous miscreant! Where are your other fellowes of my guard? Have I not told you I will speake with none But Lord Renel?

Sold. And it is hee that stayes you. 100

Mont. O, is it he? Tis well: attend him in. [Exit Soldier.] I must be vigilant; the Furies haunt mee. Doe you heare, dame?

Enter Renel, with the Souldier.

Renel [aside, to the Soldier]. Be true now, for your ladies injur'd sake, Whose bountie you have so much cause to honour: 105 For her respect is chiefe in this designe, And therefore serve it; call out of the way All your confederate fellowes of his guard, Till Monsieur Baligny be enter'd here.

Sold. Upon your honour, my lord shall be free 110 From any hurt, you say?

Ren. Free as my selfe. Watch then, and cleare his entrie.

Sold. I will not faile, my lord. Exit Souldier.

Ren. God save your lordship!

Mont. My noblest Lord Renel! past all men welcome! Wife, welcome his lordship. Osculatur.

Ren. [to Tam.] I much joy 115 In your returne here.

Tamy. You doe more then I.

Mont. Shee's passionate still, to thinke we ever parted By my too sterne injurious jelousie.

Ren. Tis well your lordship will confesse your errour In so good time yet.

Enter Baligny, with a challenge.

Mont. Death! who have wee here? 120 Ho! Guard! Villaines!

Baligny. Why exclaime you so?

Mont. Negligent trayters! Murther, murther, murther!

Bal. Y'are mad. Had mine entent beene so, like yours, It had beene done ere this.

Ren. Sir, your intent, And action too, was rude to enter thus. 125

Bal. Y'are a decaid lord to tell me of rudenesse, As much decaid in manners as in meanes.

Ren. You talke of manners, that thus rudely thrust Upon a man that's busie with his wife!

Bal. And kept your lordship then the dore?

Ren. The dore! 130

Mont. Sweet lord, forbeare. Show, show your purpose, sir, To move such bold feete into others roofes.

Bal. This is my purpose, sir; from Clermont D'Ambois I bring this challenge.

Mont. Challenge! Ile touch none.

Bal. Ile leave it here then.

Ren. Thou shall leave thy life first. 135

Mont. Murther, murther!

Ren. Retire, my lord; get off. They all fight and Bal[igny] drives in Mont[surry]. Hold, or thy death shall hold thee. Hence, my lord!

Bal. There lye the chalenge. Exit Mon[tsurry].

Ren. Was not this well handled?

Bal. Nobly, my lord. All thankes. Exit Bal[igny].

Tamy. Ile make him reade it. Exit Tamy[ra].

Ren. This was a sleight well maskt. O what is man, 140 Unlesse he be a politician! Exit.

Finis Actus primi.

LINENOTES:

4 honours. Emended by Phelps; Q, humors.

Enter Montsurry. Emended by all editors; Q, Monsieur.

28 dry. Emended by all editors; Q, dye.

52 affections. Q, affectons.

62 Mont. Emended here, and in the stage-directions to the end of the Scene, by Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Mons.

100 it is. Ed.; Q, tis.

115-16. Broken in Q at lordship, here, I.

123 Y'are. Emended by Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Ye'are.

134-36. Broken in Q at first challenge, then, murther, get off.

ACTUS SECUNDI SCAENA PRIMA.

[A Room at the Court.]

Henry, Baligny.

Henry. Come, Baligny, we now are private; say, What service bring'st thou? make it short; the Guise (Whose friend thou seem'st) is now in Court, and neare, And may observe us.

Baligny. This, sir, then, in short. The faction of the Guise (with which my policie, 5 For service to your Highnesse, seemes to joyne) Growes ripe, and must be gather'd into hold; Of which my brother Clermont being a part Exceeding capitall, deserves to have A capitall eye on him. And (as you may 10 With best advantage, and your speediest charge) Command his apprehension: which (because The Court, you know, is strong in his defence) Wee must aske country swindge and open fields. And therefore I have wrought him to goe downe 15 To Cambray with me (of which government Your Highnesse bountie made mee your lieutenant), Where when I have him, I will leave my house, And faine some service out about the confines; When, in the meane time, if you please to give 20 Command to my lieutenant, by your letters, To traine him to some muster, where he may (Much to his honour) see for him your forces Put into battaile, when hee comes, hee may With some close stratageme be apprehended: 25 For otherwise your whole powers there will faile To worke his apprehension: and with that My hand needes never be discern'd therein.

Hen. Thankes, honest Baligny.

Bal. Your Highnesse knowes I will be honest, and betray for you 30 Brother and father; for I know (my lord) Treacherie for Kings is truest loyaltie, Nor is to beare the name of treacherie, But grave, deepe policie. All acts that seeme Ill in particular respects are good 35 As they respect your universal rule: As in the maine sway of the Universe The supreame Rectors generall decrees, To guard the mightie globes of earth and heaven, Since they make good that guard to preservation 40 Of both those in their order and first end, No mans particular (as hee thinkes) wrong Must hold him wrong'd; no, not though all mens reasons, All law, all conscience, concludes it wrong. Nor is comparison a flatterer 45 To liken you here to the King of Kings; Nor any mans particular offence Against the worlds sway, to offence at yours In any subject; who as little may Grudge at their particular wrong, if so it seeme 50 For th'universall right of your estate, As, being a subject of the worlds whole sway As well as yours, and being a righteous man To whom heaven promises defence, and blessing, Brought to decay, disgrace, and quite defencelesse, 55 Hee may complaine of heaven for wrong to him.

Hen. Tis true: the simile at all parts holds, As all good subjects hold, that love our favour.

Bal. Which is our heaven here; and a miserie Incomparable, and most truely hellish, 60 To live depriv'd of our Kings grace and countenance, Without which best conditions are most cursed: Life of that nature, howsoever short, Is a most lingering and tedious life; Or rather no life, but a languishing, 65 And an abuse of life.

Hen. Tis well conceited.

Bal. I thought it not amisse to yeeld your Highness A reason of my speeches; lest perhaps You might conceive I flatter'd: which (I know) Of all ils under heaven you most abhorre. 70

Hen. Still thou art right, my vertuous Baligny, For which I thanke and love thee. Thy advise Ile not forget. Haste to thy government, And carry D'Ambois with thee. So farewell. Exit.

Bal. Your Majestie fare ever like it selfe. 75

Enter Guise.

Guise. My sure friend Baligny!

Bal. Noblest of princes!

Gui. How stands the state of Cambray?

Bal. Strong, my lord, And fit for service: for whose readinesse Your creature, Clermont D'Ambois, and my selfe Ride shortly downe.

Gui. That Clermont is my love; 80 France never bred a nobler gentleman For all parts; he exceeds his brother Bussy.

Bal. I, my lord?

Gui. Farre: because (besides his valour) Hee hath the crowne of man and all his parts, Which Learning is; and that so true and vertuous 85 That it gives power to doe as well as say What ever fits a most accomplisht man; Which Bussy, for his valours season, lackt; And so was rapt with outrage oftentimes Beyond decorum; where this absolute Clermont, 90 Though (onely for his naturall zeale to right) Hee will be fiery, when hee sees it crost, And in defence of it, yet when he lists Hee can containe that fire, as hid in embers.

Bal. No question, hee's a true, learn'd gentleman. 95

Gui. He is as true as tides, or any starre Is in his motion; and for his rare learning, Hee is not (as all else are that seeke knowledge) Of taste so much deprav'd that they had rather Delight and satisfie themselves to drinke 100 Of the streame troubled, wandring ne'er so farre From the cleare fount, then of the fount it selfe. In all, Romes Brutus is reviv'd in him, Whom hee of industry doth imitate; Or rather, as great Troys Euphorbus was 105 After Pithagoras, so is Brutus, Clermont. And, were not Brutus a conspirator—

Bal. Conspirator, my lord! Doth that empaire him? Caesar beganne to tyrannize; and when vertue, Nor the religion of the Gods, could serve 110 To curbe the insolence of his proud lawes, Brutus would be the Gods just instrument. What said the Princesse, sweet Antigone, In the grave Greeke tragedian, when the question Twixt her and Creon is for lawes of Kings? 115 Which when he urges, shee replies on him Though his lawes were a Kings, they were not Gods; Nor would shee value Creons written lawes With Gods unwrit edicts, since they last not This day and the next, but every day and ever, 120 Where Kings lawes alter every day and houre, And in that change imply a bounded power.

Gui. Well, let us leave these vaine disputings what Is to be done, and fall to doing something. When are you for your government in Cambray? 125

Bal. When you command, my lord.

Gui. Nay, that's not fit. Continue your designements with the King, With all your service; onely, if I send, Respect me as your friend, and love my Clermont.

Bal. Your Highnesse knowes my vowes.

Gui. I, tis enough. 130 Exit Guise. Manet Bal[igny].

[Sidenote: Amechanon de pantos, &c.

Impossible est viri cognoscere mentem ac voluntatem, priusquam in Magistratibus apparet.

Sopho. Antig.]

Bal. Thus must wee play on both sides, and thus harten In any ill those men whose good wee hate. Kings may doe what they list, and for Kings, subjects, Eyther exempt from censure or exception; For, as no mans worth can be justly judg'd 135 But when he shines in some authoritie, So no authoritie should suffer censure But by a man of more authoritie. Great vessels into lesse are emptied never, There's a redoundance past their continent ever. 140 These virtuosi are the poorest creatures; For looke how spinners weave out of themselves Webs, whose strange matter none before can see; So these, out of an unseene good in vertue, Make arguments of right and comfort in her, 145 That clothe them like the poore web of a spinner.

Enter Clermont.

Clermont. Now, to my challenge. What's the place, the weapon?

Bal. Soft, sir! let first your challenge be received. Hee would not touch, nor see it.

Cler. Possible! How did you then?

Bal. Left it, in his despight. 150 But when hee saw mee enter so expectlesse, To heare his base exclaimes of "murther, murther," Made mee thinke noblesse lost, in him quicke buried.

[Sidenote: Quo mollius degunt, eo servilius.

Epict.]

Cler. They are the breathing sepulchres of noblesse: No trulier noble men then lions pictures, 155 Hung up for signes, are lions. Who knowes not That lyons the more soft kept, are more servile? And looke how lyons close kept, fed by hand, Lose quite th'innative fire of spirit and greatnesse That lyons free breathe, forraging for prey, 160 And grow so grosse that mastifes, curs, and mungrils Have spirit to cow them: so our soft French Nobles Chain'd up in ease and numbd securitie (Their spirits shrunke up like their covetous fists, And never opened but Domitian-like, 165 And all his base, obsequious minions When they were catching though it were but flyes), Besotted with their pezzants love of gaine, Rusting at home, and on each other preying, Are for their greatnesse but the greater slaves, 170 And none is noble but who scrapes and saves.

Bal. Tis base, tis base; and yet they thinke them high.

Cler. So children mounted on their hobby-horse Thinke they are riding, when with wanton toile They beare what should beare them. A man may well 175 Compare them to those foolish great-spleen'd cammels, That to their high heads beg'd of Jove hornes higher; Whose most uncomely and ridiculous pride When hee had satisfied, they could not use, But where they went upright before, they stoopt, 180 And bore their heads much lower for their hornes: Simil[iter.] As these high men doe, low in all true grace, Their height being priviledge to all things base. And as the foolish poet that still writ All his most selfe-lov'd verse in paper royall, 185 Or partchment rul'd with lead, smooth'd with the pumice, Bound richly up, and strung with crimson strings; Never so blest as when hee writ and read The ape-lov'd issue of his braine; and never But joying in himselfe, admiring ever: 190 Yet in his workes behold him, and hee show'd Like to a ditcher. So these painted men, All set on out-side, looke upon within, And not a pezzants entrailes you shall finde More foule and mezel'd, nor more sterv'd of minde. 195

Bal. That makes their bodies fat. I faine would know How many millions of our other Nobles Would make one Guise. There is a true tenth Worthy, Who, did not one act onely blemish him—

Cler. One act! what one?

Bal. One that (though yeeres past done) 200 Stickes by him still, and will distaine him ever.

Cler. Good heaven! wherein? what one act can you name Suppos'd his staine that Ile not prove his luster?

Bal. To satisfie you, twas the Massacre.

Cler. The Massacre! I thought twas some such blemish. 205

Bal. O, it was hainous!

Cler. To a brutish sense, But not a manly reason. Wee so tender The vile part in us that the part divine We see in hell, and shrinke not. Who was first Head of that Massacre?

Bal. The Guise.

Cler. Tis nothing so. 210 Who was in fault for all the slaughters made In Ilion, and about it? Were the Greekes? Was it not Paris ravishing the Queene Of Lacaedemon; breach of shame and faith, And all the lawes of hospitalitie? 215 This is the beastly slaughter made of men, When truth is over-throwne, his lawes corrupted; When soules are smother'd in the flatter'd flesh, Slaine bodies are no more then oxen slaine.

Bal. Differ not men from oxen?

Cler. Who sayes so? 220 But see wherein; in the understanding rules Of their opinions, lives, and actions; In their communities of faith and reason. Was not the wolfe that nourisht Romulus More humane then the men that did expose him? 225

Bal. That makes against you.

Cler. Not, sir, if you note That by that deede, the actions difference make Twixt men and beasts, and not their names nor formes. Had faith, nor shame, all hospitable rights Beene broke by Troy, Greece had not made that slaughter. 230 Had that beene sav'd (sayes a philosopher) The Iliads and Odysses had beene lost. Had Faith and true Religion beene prefer'd Religious Guise had never massacerd.

Bal. Well, sir, I cannot, when I meete with you, 235 But thus digresse a little, for my learning, From any other businesse I entend. But now the voyage we resolv'd for Cambray, I told the Guise, beginnes; and wee must haste. And till the Lord Renel hath found some meane 240 (Conspiring with the Countesse) to make sure Your sworne wreake on her husband, though this fail'd, In my so brave command wee'll spend the time, Sometimes in training out in skirmishes And battailes all our troopes and companies; 245 And sometimes breathe your brave Scotch running horse, That great Guise gave you, that all th'horse in France Farre over-runnes at every race and hunting Both of the hare and deere. You shall be honor'd Like the great Guise himselfe, above the King. 250 And (can you but appease your great-spleen'd sister For our delaid wreake of your brothers slaughter) At all parts you'll be welcom'd to your wonder.

Cler. Ile see my lord the Guise againe before Wee take our journey?

Bal. O, sir, by all meanes; 255 You cannot be too carefull of his love, That ever takes occasion to be raising Your virtues past the reaches of this age, And rankes you with the best of th'ancient Romanes.

Cler. That praise at no part moves mee, but the worth 260 Of all hee can give others spher'd in him.

Bal. Hee yet is thought to entertaine strange aymes.

Cler. He may be well; yet not, as you thinke, strange. His strange aymes are to crosse the common custome Of servile Nobles; in which hee's so ravisht, 265 That quite the earth he leaves, and up hee leapes On Atlas shoulders, and from thence lookes downe, Viewing how farre off other high ones creepe; Rich, poore of reason, wander; all pale looking, And trembling but to thinke of their sure deaths, 270 Their lives so base are, and so rancke their breaths. Which I teach Guise to heighten, and make sweet With lifes deare odors, a good minde and name; For which hee onely loves me, and deserves My love and life, which through all deaths I vow: 275 Resolving this (what ever change can be) Thou hast created, thou hast ruinde mee. Exit.

Finis Actus secundi.

LINENOTES:

Amechanon (misprinted Aukchanou) . . . Antig. In left margin of Q.



ACTUS TERTII SCAENA PRIMA.

[A Parade-Ground near Cambrai.]

A march of Captaines over the Stage.

Maillard, Chalon, Aumall following with Souldiers.

Maillard. These troopes and companies come in with wings: So many men, so arm'd, so gallant horse, I thinke no other government in France So soone could bring together. With such men Me thinkes a man might passe th'insulting Pillars 5 Of Bacchus and Alcides.

Chalon. I much wonder Our Lord Lieutenant brought his brother downe To feast and honour him, and yet now leaves him At such an instance.

Mail. Twas the Kings command; For whom he must leave brother, wife, friend, all things. 10

Aumale. The confines of his government, whose view Is the pretext of his command, hath neede Of no such sodaine expedition.

Mail. Wee must not argue that. The Kings command Is neede and right enough: and that he serves, 15 (As all true subjects should) without disputing.

Chal. But knowes not hee of your command to take His brother Clermont?

Mail. No: the Kings will is Expressely to conceale his apprehension From my Lord Governour. Observ'd yee not? 20 Againe peruse the letters. Both you are Made my assistants, and have right and trust In all the waightie secrets like my selfe.

Aum. Tis strange a man that had, through his life past, So sure a foote in vertue and true knowledge 25 As Clermont D'Ambois, should be now found tripping, And taken up thus, so to make his fall More steepe and head-long.

Mail. It is Vertues fortune, To keepe her low, and in her proper place; Height hath no roome for her. But as a man 30 That hath a fruitfull wife, and every yeere A childe by her, hath every yeere a month To breathe himselfe, where hee that gets no childe Hath not a nights rest (if he will doe well); So, let one marry this same barraine Vertue, 35 She never lets him rest, where fruitfull Vice Spares her rich drudge, gives him in labour breath, Feedes him with bane, and makes him fat with death.

Chal. I see that good lives never can secure Men from bad livers. Worst men will have best 40 As ill as they, or heaven to hell they'll wrest.

Aum. There was a merit for this, in the fault That Bussy made, for which he (doing pennance) Proves that these foule adulterous guilts will runne Through the whole bloud, which not the cleare can shunne. 45

Mail. Ile therefore take heede of the bastarding Whole innocent races; tis a fearefull thing. And as I am true batcheler, I sweare, To touch no woman (to the coupling ends) Unlesse it be mine owne wife or my friends; 50 I may make bold with him.

Aum. Tis safe and common. The more your friend dares trust, the more deceive him. And as through dewie vapors the sunnes forme Makes the gay rainebow girdle to a storme, So in hearts hollow, friendship (even the sunne 55 To all good growing in societie) Makes his so glorious and divine name hold Collours for all the ill that can be told. Trumpets within.

Mail. Harke! our last troopes are come.

Chal. (Drums beate.) Harke! our last foote.

Mail. Come, let us put all quickly into battaile, 60 And send for Clermont, in whose honour all This martiall preparation wee pretend.

Chal. Wee must bethinke us, ere wee apprehend him, (Besides our maine strength) of some stratageme To make good our severe command on him, 65 As well to save blood as to make him sure: For if hee come on his Scotch horse, all France Put at the heeles of him will faile to take him.

Mail. What thinke you if wee should disguise a brace Of our best souldiers in faire lackies coates, 70 And send them for him, running by his side, Till they have brought him in some ambuscado We close may lodge for him, and sodainely Lay sure hand on him, plucking him from horse?

Aum. It must be sure and strong hand; for if once 75 Hee feeles the touch of such a stratageme, Tis not choicest brace of all our bands Can manacle or quench his fiery hands.

Mail. When they have seaz'd him, the ambush shal make in.

Aum. Doe as you please; his blamelesse spirit deserves 80 (I dare engage my life) of all this, nothing.

Chal. Why should all this stirre be, then?

Aum. Who knowes not The bumbast politie thrusts into his gyant, To make his wisedome seeme of size as huge, And all for sleight encounter of a shade, 85 So hee be toucht, hee would have hainous made?

Mail. It may be once so; but so ever, never. Ambition is abroad, on foote, on horse; Faction chokes every corner, streete, the Court; Whose faction tis you know, and who is held 90 The fautors right hand: how high his aymes reach Nought but a crowne can measure. This must fall Past shadowes waights, and is most capitall.

Chal. No question; for since hee is come to Cambray, The malecontent, decaid Marquesse Renel, 95 Is come, and new arriv'd; and made partaker Of all the entertaining showes and feasts That welcom'd Clermont to the brave virago, His manly sister. Such wee are esteem'd As are our consorts. Marquesse malecontent 100 Comes where hee knowes his vaine hath safest vent.

Mail. Let him come at his will, and goe as free; Let us ply Clermont, our whole charge is hee. Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

Trumpets within. Drums beate. In Q these directions follow instead of precede l. 59.

Exeunt. Q, Exit.

[SCAENA SECUNDA.

A Room in the Governor's Castle at Cambrai.]

Enter a Gentleman Usher before Clermont: Renel, Charlotte, with two women attendants, with others: showes having past within.

Charlotte. This for your lordships welcome into Cambray.

Renel. Noblest of ladies, tis beyond all power (Were my estate at first full) in my meanes To quit or merit.

Clermont. You come something latter From Court, my lord, then I: and since newes there 5 Is every day encreasing with th'affaires, Must I not aske now, what the newes is there? Where the Court lyes? what stirre? change? what avise From England, Italie?

Ren. You must doe so, If you'll be cald a gentleman well quallified, 10 And weare your time and wits in those discourses.

Cler. The Locrian princes therefore were brave rulers; For whosoever there came new from countrie, And in the citie askt, "What newes?" was punisht: Since commonly such braines are most delighted 15 With innovations, gossips tales, and mischiefes. But as of lyons it is said and eagles, That, when they goe, they draw their seeres and tallons Close up, to shunne rebating of their sharpnesse: So our wits sharpnesse, which wee should employ 20 In noblest knowledge, wee should never waste In vile and vulgar admirations.

Ren. Tis right; but who, save onely you, performes it, And your great brother? Madame, where is he?

Char. Gone, a day since, into the countries confines, 25 To see their strength, and readinesse for service.

Ren. Tis well; his favour with the King hath made him Most worthily great, and live right royally.

Cler. I: would hee would not doe so! Honour never Should be esteem'd with wise men as the price 30 And value of their virtuous services, But as their signe or badge; for that bewrayes More glory in the outward grace of goodnesse Then in the good it selfe; and then tis said, Who more joy takes that men his good advance 35 Then in the good it selfe, does it by chance.

Char. My brother speakes all principle. What man Is mov'd with your soule? or hath such a thought In any rate of goodnesse?

Cler. Tis their fault. We have examples of it, cleare and many. 40 Demetrius Phalerius, an orator, And (which not oft meete) a philosopher, So great in Athens grew that he erected Three hundred statues of him; of all which, No rust nor length of time corrupted one; 45 But in his life time all were overthrowne. And Demades (that past Demosthenes For all extemporall orations) Erected many statues, which (he living) Were broke, and melted into chamber-pots. 50 Many such ends have fallen on such proud honours, No more because the men on whom they fell Grew insolent and left their vertues state, Then for their hugenesse, that procur'd their hate: And therefore little pompe in men most great 55 Makes mightily and strongly to the guard Of what they winne by chance or just reward. Great and immodest braveries againe, Like statues much too high made for their bases, Are overturn'd as soone as given their places. 60

Enter a Messenger with a Letter.

Messenger. Here is a letter, sir, deliver'd mee Now at the fore-gate by a gentleman.

Cler. What gentleman?

Mess. Hee would not tell his name; Hee said, hee had not time enough to tell it, And say the little rest hee had to say. 65

Cler. That was a merry saying; he tooke measure Of his deare time like a most thriftie husband.

Char. What newes?

Cler. Strange ones, and fit for a novation; Waightie, unheard of, mischievous enough.

Ren. Heaven shield! what are they?

Cler. Read them, good my lord. 70

Ren. "You are betraid into this countrie." Monstrous!

Char. How's that?

Cler. Read on.

Ren. "Maillard, your brothers Lieutenant, that yesterday invited you to see his musters, 75 hath letters and strickt charge from the King to apprehend you."

Char. To apprehend him!

Ren. "Your brother absents himselfe of purpose." 80

Cler. That's a sound one.

Char. That's a lye.

Ren. "Get on your Scotch horse, and retire to your strength; you know where it is, and there it expects you. Beleeve this as your best 85 friend had sworne it. Fare-well if you will. Anonymos." What's that?

Cler. Without a name.

Char. And all his notice, too, without all truth.

Cler. So I conceive it, sister: ile not wrong 90 My well knowne brother for Anonymos.

Char. Some foole hath put this tricke on you, yet more T'uncover your defect of spirit and valour, First showne in lingring my deare brothers wreake. See what it is to give the envious world 95 Advantage to diminish eminent virtue. Send him a challenge. Take a noble course To wreake a murther, done so like a villaine.

Cler. Shall we revenge a villanie with villanie.

Char. Is it not equall?

Cler. Shall wee equall be with villaines? 100 Is that your reason?

Char. Cowardise evermore Flyes to the shield of reason.

Cler. Nought that is Approv'd by reason can be cowardise.

Char. Dispute, when you should fight! Wrong, wreaklesse sleeping, Makes men dye honorlesse; one borne, another 105 Leapes on our shoulders.

Cler. Wee must wreake our wrongs So as wee take not more.

Char. One wreakt in time Prevents all other. Then shines vertue most When time is found for facts; and found, not lost.

Cler. No time occurres to Kings, much lesse to vertue; 110 Nor can we call it vertue that proceedes From vicious fury. I repent that ever (By any instigation in th'appearance My brothers spirit made, as I imagin'd) That e'er I yeelded to revenge his murther. 115 All worthy men should ever bring their bloud To beare all ill, not to be wreakt with good. Doe ill for no ill; never private cause Should take on it the part of publike lawes.

Char. A D'Ambois beare in wrong so tame a spirit! 120

Ren. Madame, be sure there will be time enough For all the vengeance your great spirit can wish. The course yet taken is allow'd by all, Which being noble, and refus'd by th'Earle, Now makes him worthy of your worst advantage: 125 And I have cast a project with the Countesse To watch a time when all his wariest guards Shall not exempt him. Therefore give him breath; Sure death delaid is a redoubled death.

Cler. Good sister, trouble not your selfe with this: 130 Take other ladyes care; practise your face. There's the chaste matron, Madame Perigot, Dwels not farre hence; Ile ride and send her to you. Shee did live by retailing mayden-heads In her minoritie; but now shee deales 135 In whole-sale altogether for the Court. I tell you, shee's the onely fashion-monger, For your complexion, poudring of your haire, Shadowes, rebatoes, wires, tyres, and such trickes, That Cambray or, I thinke, the Court affords. 140 She shall attend you, sister, and with these Womanly practises emply your spirit; This other suites you not, nor fits the fashion. Though shee be deare, lay't on, spare for no cost; Ladies in these have all their bounties lost. 145

Ren. Madame, you see, his spirit will not checke At any single danger, when it stands Thus merrily firme against an host of men, Threaten'd to be [in] armes for his surprise.

Char. That's a meere bugge-beare, an impossible mocke. 150 If hee, and him I bound by nuptiall faith, Had not beene dull and drossie in performing Wreake of the deare bloud of my matchlesse brother, What Prince, what King, which of the desperat'st ruffings, Outlawes in Arden, durst have tempted thus 155 One of our bloud and name, be't true or false?

Cler. This is not caus'd by that; twill be as sure As yet it is not, though this should be true.

Char. True, tis past thought false.

Cler. I suppose the worst, Which farre I am from thinking; and despise 160 The armie now in battaile that should act it.

[Char.] I would not let my bloud up to that thought, But it should cost the dearest bloud in France.

Cler. Sweet sister, (osculatur) farre be both off as the fact Of my fain'd apprehension.

Char. I would once 165 Strip off my shame with my attire, and trie If a poore woman, votist of revenge, Would not performe it with a president To all you bungling, foggy-spirited men. But for our birth-rights honour, doe not mention 170 One syllable of any word may goe To the begetting of an act so tender And full of sulphure as this letters truth: It comprehends so blacke a circumstance Not to be nam'd, that but to forme one thought, 175 It is or can be so, would make me mad. Come, my lord, you and I will fight this dreame Out at the chesse.

Ren. Most gladly, worthiest ladie. Exeunt Char[lotte] and Ren[el].

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger. Sir, my Lord Governours Lieutenant prayes Accesse to you.

Cler. Himselfe alone?

Mess. Alone, sir. 180

Cler. Attend him in. (Exit Messenger.) Now comes this plot to tryall; I shall descerne (if it be true as rare) Some sparkes will flye from his dissembling eyes. Ile sound his depth.

Enter Maillard with the Messenger.

Maillard. Honour, and all things noble!

Cler. As much to you, good Captaine. What's th'affaire? 185

Mail. Sir, the poore honour we can adde to all Your studyed welcome to this martiall place, In presentation of what strength consists My lord your brothers government, is readie. I have made all his troopes and companies 190 Advance and put themselves in battailia, That you may see both how well arm'd they are How strong is every troope and companie, How ready, and how well prepar'd for service.

Cler. And must they take mee?

Mail. Take you, sir! O heaven! 195

Mess. [aside, to Clermont]. Beleeve it, sir, his count'nance chang'd in turning.

Mail. What doe you meane, sir?

Cler. If you have charg'd them, You being charg'd your selfe, to apprehend mee, Turne not your face; throw not your lookes about so.

Mail. Pardon me, sir. You amaze me to conceive 200 From whence our wils to honour you should turne To such dishonour of my lord, your brother. Dare I, without him, undertake your taking?

Cler. Why not? by your direct charge from the King.

Mail. By my charge from the King! would he so much 205 Disgrace my lord, his owne Lieutenant here, To give me his command without his forfaite?

Cler. Acts that are done by Kings, are not askt why. Ile not dispute the case, but I will search you.

Mail. Search mee! for what?

Cler. For letters.

Mail. I beseech you, 210 Doe not admit one thought of such a shame To a commander.

Cler. Goe to! I must doo't. Stand and be searcht; you know mee.

Mail. You forget What tis to be a captaine, and your selfe.

Cler. Stand, or I vow to heaven, Ile make you lie, 215 Never to rise more.

Mail. If a man be mad, Reason must beare him.

Cler. So coy to be searcht?

Mail. Sdeath, sir, use a captaine like a carrier!

Cler. Come, be not furious; when I have done, You shall make such a carrier of me, 220 If't be your pleasure: you're my friend, I know, And so am bold with you.

Mail. You'll nothing finde Where nothing is.

Cler. Sweare you have nothing.

Mail. Nothing you seeke, I sweare. I beseech you, Know I desir'd this out of great affection, 225 To th'end my lord may know out of your witnesse His forces are not in so bad estate As hee esteem'd them lately in your hearing; For which he would not trust me with the confines, But went himselfe to witnesse their estate. 230

Cler. I heard him make that reason, and am sorie I had no thought of it before I made Thus bold with you, since tis such ruberb to you. Ile therefore search no more. If you are charg'd (By letters from the King, or otherwise) 235 To apprehend me, never spice it more With forc'd tearmes of your love, but say: I yeeld; Holde, take my sword, here; I forgive thee freely; Take; doe thine office.

Mail. Sfoote! you make m'a hang-man; By all my faith to you, there's no such thing. 240

Cler. Your faith to mee!

Mail. My faith to God; all's one: Who hath no faith to men, to God hath none.

Cler. In that sense I accept your othe, and thanke you. I gave my word to goe, and I will goe. Exit Cler[mont].

Mail. Ile watch you whither. Exit Mail[lard].

Mess. If hee goes, hee proves 245 How vaine are mens fore knowledges of things, When heaven strikes blinde their powers of note and use, And makes their way to ruine seeme more right Then that which safetie opens to their sight. Cassandra's prophecie had no more profit 250 With Troyes blinde citizens, when shee foretolde Troyes ruine; which, succeeding, made her use This sacred inclamation: "God" (said shee) "Would have me utter things uncredited; For which now they approve what I presag'd; 255 They count me wise, that said before, I rag'd." [Exit.]

LINENOTES:

12 Rulers. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Rubers.

74 your. Ed.; Q, you.

149 in. Added by ed.

155 Arden. Q, Acden.

162 Char. Q, Cler.

[SCAENA TERTIA.

A Camp near Cambrai.]

Enter Challon with two Souldiers.

Chalon. Come, souldiers: you are downewards fit for lackies; Give me your pieces, and take you these coates, To make you compleate foot men, in whose formes You must be compleate souldiers: you two onely Stand for our armie.

1[st Soldier.] That were much.

Chal. Tis true; 5 You two must doe, or enter, what our armie Is now in field for.

2[d Sol.] I see then our guerdon Must be the deede it selfe, twill be such honour.

Chal. What fight souldiers most for?

1[st Sol.] Honour onely.

Chal. Yet here are crownes beside.

Ambo. We thanke you, Captaine. 10

2[d Sol.] Now, sir, how show wee?

Chal. As you should at all parts. Goe now to Clermont D'Ambois, and informe him, Two battailes are set ready in his honour, And stay his presence onely for their signall, When they shall joyne; and that, t'attend him hither 15 Like one wee so much honour, wee have sent him—

1[st Sol.] Us two in person.

Chal. Well, sir, say it so; And having brought him to the field, when I Fall in with him, saluting, get you both Of one side of his horse, and plucke him downe, 20 And I with th'ambush laid will second you.

1[st Sol.] Nay, we shall lay on hands of too much strength To neede your secondings.

2[d Sol.] I hope we shall. Two are enough to encounter Hercules.

Chal. Tis well said, worthy souldiers; hast, and hast him. [Exeunt.] 25

LINENOTES:

Exeunt. Q, Exit.

[SCAENA QUARTA.

A Room in the Governor's Castle at Cambrai.]

Enter Clermont, Maillard close following him.

Clermont. My Scotch horse to their armie—

Maillard. Please you, sir?

Cler. Sdeath! you're passing diligent.

Mail. Of my soule, Tis onely in my love to honour you With what would grace the King: but since I see You still sustaine a jealous eye on mee, 5 Ile goe before.

Cler. Tis well; Ile come; my hand.

Mail. Your hand, sir! Come, your word; your choise be us'd. Exit.

Clermont solus.

Cler. I had an aversation to this voyage, When first my brother mov'd it, and have found That native power in me was never vaine; 10 Yet now neglected it. I wonder much At my inconstancie in these decrees I every houre set downe to guide my life. When Homer made Achilles passionate, Wrathfull, revengefull, and insatiate 15 In his affections, what man will denie He did compose it all of industrie To let men see that men of most renowne, Strong'st, noblest, fairest, if they set not downe Decrees within them, for disposing these, 20 Of judgement, resolution, uprightnesse, And certaine knowledge of their use and ends, Mishap and miserie no lesse extends To their destruction, with all that they pris'd, Then to the poorest and the most despis'd? 25

Enter Renel.

Renel. Why, how now, friend, retir'd! take heede you prove not Dismaid with this strange fortune. All observe you: Your government's as much markt as the Kings. What said a friend to Pompey?

Cler. What?

Ren. The people Will never know, unlesse in death thou trie, 30 That thou know'st how to beare adversitie.

Cler. I shall approve how vile I value feare Of death at all times; but to be too rash, Without both will and care to shunne the worst, (It being in power to doe well and with cheere) 35 Is stupid negligence and worse then feare.

Ren. Suppose this true now.

Cler. No, I cannot doo't. My sister truely said, there hung a taile Of circumstance so blacke on that supposure, That to sustaine it thus abhorr'd our mettall. 40 And I can shunne it too, in spight of all, Not going to field; and there to, being so mounted As I will, since I goe.

Ren. You will then goe?

Cler. I am engag'd both in my word and hand. But this is it that makes me thus retir'd, 45 To call my selfe t'account, how this affaire Is to be manag'd, if the worst should chance: With which I note, how dangerous it is For any man to prease beyond the place To which his birth, or meanes, or knowledge ties him. 50 For my part, though of noble birth, my birthright Had little left it, and I know tis better To live with little, and to keepe within A mans owne strength still, and in mans true end, Then runne a mixt course. Good and bad hold never 55 Any thing common; you can never finde Things outward care, but you neglect your minde. God hath the whole world perfect made and free; His parts to th'use of th'All. Men, then, that are Parts of that All, must, as the generall sway 60 Of that importeth, willingly obay In every thing without their power to change. Hee that, unpleas'd to hold his place, will range, Can in no other be contain'd that's fit, And so resisting th'All is crusht with it: 65 But he that knowing how divine a frame The whole world is, and of it all can name (Without selfe-flatterie) no part so divine As hee himselfe; and therefore will confine Freely his whole powers in his proper part, 70 Goes on most God-like. Hee that strives t'invert The Universals course with his poore way, Not onely dust-like shivers with the sway, But crossing God in his great worke, all earth Beares not so cursed and so damn'd a birth. 75

Ren. Goe on; Ile take no care what comes of you; Heaven will not see it ill, how ere it show. But the pretext to see these battailes rang'd Is much your honour.

Cler. As the world esteemes it. But to decide that, you make me remember 80 An accident of high and noble note, And fits the subject of my late discourse Of holding on our free and proper way. I over-tooke, comming from Italie, In Germanie a great and famous Earle 85 Of England, the most goodly fashion'd man I ever saw; from head to foote in forme Rare and most absolute; hee had a face Like one of the most ancient honour'd Romanes From whence his noblest familie was deriv'd; 90 He was beside of spirit passing great, Valiant, and learn'd, and liberall as the sunne, Spoke and writ sweetly, or of learned subjects, Or of the discipline of publike weales; And t'was the Earle of Oxford: and being offer'd 95 At that time, by Duke Cassimere, the view Of his right royall armie then in field, Refus'd it, and no foote was mov'd to stirre Out of his owne free fore-determin'd course. I, wondring at it, askt for it his reason, 100 It being an offer so much for his honour. Hee, all acknowledging, said t'was not fit To take those honours that one cannot quit.

Ren. Twas answer'd like the man you have describ'd.

Cler. And yet he cast it onely in the way, 105 To stay and serve the world. Nor did it fit His owne true estimate how much it waigh'd; For hee despis'd it, and esteem'd it freer To keepe his owne way straight, and swore that hee Had rather make away his whole estate 110 In things that crost the vulgar then he would Be frozen up stiffe (like a Sir John Smith, His countrey-man) in common Nobles fashions; Affecting, as't the end of noblesse were, Those servile observations.

Ren. It was strange. 115

Cler. O tis a vexing sight to see a man, Out of his way, stalke proud as hee were in; Out of his way, to be officious, Observant, wary, serious, and grave, Fearefull, and passionate, insulting, raging, 120 Labour with iron flailes to thresh downe feathers Flitting in ayre.

Ren. What one considers this, Of all that are thus out? or once endevours, Erring, to enter on mans right-hand path?

Cler. These are too grave for brave wits; give them toyes; 125 Labour bestow'd on these is harsh and thriftlesse. If you would Consull be (sayes one) of Rome, You must be watching, starting out of sleepes; Every way whisking; gloryfying Plebeians; Kissing Patricians hands, rot at their dores; 130 Speake and doe basely; every day bestow Gifts and observance upon one or other: And what's th'event of all? Twelve rods before thee; Three or foure times sit for the whole tribunall; Exhibite Circean games; make publike feasts; 135 And for these idle outward things (sayes he) Would'st thou lay on such cost, toile, spend thy spirits? And to be voide of perturbation, For constancie, sleepe when thou would'st have sleepe, Wake when thou would'st wake, feare nought, vexe for nought, 140 No paines wilt thou bestow? no cost? no thought?

Ren. What should I say? As good consort with you As with an angell; I could heare you ever.

Cler. Well, in, my lord, and spend time with my sister, And keepe her from the field with all endeavour. 145 The souldiers love her so, and shee so madly Would take my apprehension, if it chance, That bloud would flow in rivers.

Ren. Heaven forbid! And all with honour your arrivall speede! Exit.

Enter Messenger with two Souldiers like Lackies.

Messenger. Here are two lackies, sir, have message to you. 150

Cler. What is your message? and from whom, my friends?

1[st Soldier.] From the Lieutenant, Colonell, and the Captaines, Who sent us to informe you that the battailes Stand ready rang'd, expecting but your presence To be their honor'd signall when to joyne, 155 And we are charg'd to runne by, and attend you.

Cler. I come. I pray you see my running horse Brought to the backe-gate to mee.

Mess. Instantly. Exit Mess[enger].

Cler. Chance what can chance mee, well or ill is equall In my acceptance, since I joy in neyther, 160 But goe with sway of all the world together. In all successes Fortune and the day To mee alike are; I am fixt, be shee Never so fickle; and will there repose, Farre past the reach of any dye she throwes. 165 Ex[it] cum Pediss[equis].

Finis Actus tertii.

LINENOTES:

114 as't. Emended by ed.; Q, as.



ACTUS QUARTI SCAENA PRIMA.

[A Parade-Ground near Cambrai.]

Alarum within: Excursions over the Stage.

The [Soldiers disguised as] Lackies running, Maillard following them.

Maillard. Villaines, not hold him when ye had him downe!

1[st Soldier.] Who can hold lightning? Sdeath a man as well Might catch a canon bullet in his mouth, And spit it in your hands, as take and hold him.

Mail. Pursue, enclose him! stand or fall on him, 5 And yee may take him. Sdeath! they make him guards. Exit.

Alarum still, and enter Chalon.

Challon. Stand, cowards, stand; strike, send your bullets at him.

1[st Soldier.] Wee came to entertaine him, sir, for honour.

2[d Soldier.] Did ye not say so?

Chal. Slaves, hee is a traitor; Command the horse troopes to over-runne the traitor. Exeunt. 10

Shouts within. Alarum still, and Chambers shot off. Then enter Aumall.

Aumale. What spirit breathes thus in this more then man, Turnes flesh to ayre possest, and in a storme Teares men about the field like autumne leaves? He turnd wilde lightning in the lackies hands, Who, though their sodaine violent twitch unhorst him, 15 Yet when he bore himselfe, their saucie fingers Flew as too hot off, as hee had beene fire. The ambush then made in, through all whose force Hee drave as if a fierce and fire-given canon Had spit his iron vomit out amongst them. 20 The battailes then in two halfe-moones enclos'd him, In which he shew'd as if he were the light, And they but earth, who, wondring what hee was, Shruncke their steele hornes and gave him glorious passe. And as a great shot from a towne besieg'd 25 At foes before it flyes forth blacke and roring, But they too farre, and that with waight opprest (As if disdaining earth) doth onely grasse, Strike earth, and up againe into the ayre, Againe sinkes to it, and againe doth rise, 30 And keepes such strength that when it softliest moves It piece-meale shivers any let it proves— So flew brave Clermont forth, till breath forsooke him, Then fell to earth; and yet (sweet man) even then His spirits convulsions made him bound againe 35 Past all their reaches; till, all motion spent, His fixt eyes cast a blaze of such disdaine, All stood and star'd, and untouch'd let him lie, As something sacred fallen out of the skie. A cry within. O now some rude hand hath laid hold on him! 40

Enter Maillard, Chalon leading Clermont, Captaines and Souldiers following.

See, prisoner led, with his bands honour'd more Then all the freedome he enjoy'd before.

Mail. At length wee have you, sir.

Clermont. You have much joy too; I made you sport. Yet, but I pray you tell mee, Are not you perjur'd?

Mail. No: I swore for the King. 45

Cler. Yet perjurie, I hope, is perjurie.

Mail. But thus forswearing is not perjurie. You are no politician: not a fault, How foule soever, done for private ends, Is fault in us sworne to the publike good: 50 Wee never can be of the damned crew; Wee may impolitique our selves (as 'twere) Into the kingdomes body politique, Whereof indeede we're members; you misse termes.

Cler. The things are yet the same. 55

Mail. Tis nothing so; the propertie is alter'd: Y'are no lawyer. Or say that othe and othe Are still the same in number, yet their species Differ extreamely, as, for flat example, When politique widowes trye men for their turne, 60 Before they wed them, they are harlots then, But when they wed them, they are honest women: So private men, when they forsweare, betray, Are perjur'd treachers, but being publique once, That is, sworne-married to the publique good— 65

Cler. Are married women publique?

Mail. Publique good; For marriage makes them, being the publique good, And could not be without them: so I say Men publique, that is, being sworne-married To the good publique, being one body made 70 With the realmes body politique, are no more Private, nor can be perjur'd, though forsworne, More then a widow married, for the act Of generation is for that an harlot, Because for that shee was so, being unmarried: 75 An argument a paribus.

Chal. Tis a shrow'd one.

Cler. "Who hath no faith to men, to God hath none:" Retaine you that, sir? who said so?

Mail. Twas I.

Cler. Thy owne tongue damne thy infidelitie! But, Captaines all, you know me nobly borne; 80 Use yee t'assault such men as I with lackyes?

Chal. They are no lackyes, sir, but souldiers Disguis'd in lackyes coates.

1 Sold. Sir, wee have seene the enemie.

Cler. Avant! yee rascols, hence!

Mail. Now leave your coates.

Cler. Let me not see them more. 85

Aum. I grieve that vertue lives so undistinguisht From vice in any ill, and though the crowne Of soveraigne law, shee should be yet her footstoole, Subject to censure, all the shame and paine Of all her rigor.

Cler. Yet false policie 90 Would cover all, being like offenders hid, That (after notice taken where they hide) The more they crouch and stirre, the more are spide.

Aum. I wonder how this chanc'd you.

Cler. Some informer, Bloud-hound to mischiefe, usher to the hang-man, 95 Thirstie of honour for some huge state act, Perceiving me great with the worthy Guise, And he (I know not why) held dangerous, Made me the desperate organe of his danger, Onely with that poore colour: tis the common 100 And more then whore-like tricke of treacherie And vermine bred to rapine and to ruine, For which this fault is still to be accus'd; Since good acts faile, crafts and deceits are us'd. If it be other, never pittie mee. 105

Aum. Sir, we are glad, beleeve it, and have hope The King will so conceit it.

Cler. At his pleasure. In meane time, what's your will, Lord Lieutenant?

Mail. To leave your owne horse, and to mount the trumpets.

Cler. It shall be done. This heavily prevents 110 My purpos'd recreation in these parts; Which now I thinke on, let mee begge you, sir, To lend me some one captaine of your troopes, To beare the message of my haplesse service And miserie to my most noble mistresse, 115 Countesse of Cambray; to whose house this night I promist my repaire, and know most truely, With all the ceremonies of her favour, She sure expects mee.

Mail. Thinke you now on that?

Cler. On that, sir? I, and that so worthily, 120 That if the King, in spight of your great service, Would send me instant promise of enlargement, Condition I would set this message by, I would not take it, but had rather die.

Aum. Your message shall be done, sir: I, my selfe, 125 Will be for you a messenger of ill.

Cler. I thanke you, sir, and doubt not yet to live To quite your kindnesse.

Aum. Meane space use your spirit And knowledge for the chearfull patience Of this so strange and sodaine consequence. 130

Cler. Good sir, beleeve that no particular torture Can force me from my glad obedience To any thing the high and generall Cause, To match with his whole fabricke, hath ordainde; And know yee all (though farre from all your aymes, 135 Yet worth them all, and all mens endlesse studies) That in this one thing, all the discipline Of manners and of manhood is contain'd:— A man to joyne himselfe with th'Universe In his maine sway, and make (in all things fit) 140 One with that all, and goe on round as it; Not plucking from the whole his wretched part, And into straites, or into nought revert, Wishing the compleate Universe might be Subject to such a ragge of it as hee; 145 But to consider great Necessitie All things, as well refract as voluntarie, Reduceth to the prime celestiall cause; Which he that yeelds to with a mans applause, And cheeke by cheeke goes, crossing it no breath, 150 But like Gods image followes to the death, That man is truely wise, and every thing (Each cause and every part distinguishing) In nature with enough art understands, And that full glory merits at all hands 155 That doth the whole world at all parts adorne, And appertaines to one celestiall borne. Exeunt omnes.

LINENOTES:

Exeunt. Q, Exit.

54 We're. Q, We'are.

[SCAENA SECUNDA.

A Room at the Court in Paris.]

Enter Baligny, Renel.

Baligny. So foule a scandall never man sustain'd, Which caus'd by th'King is rude and tyrannous: Give me a place, and my Lieutenant make The filler of it!

Renel. I should never looke For better of him; never trust a man 5 For any justice, that is rapt with pleasure; To order armes well, that makes smockes his ensignes, And his whole governments sayles: you heard of late Hee had the foure and twenty wayes of venerie Done all before him.

Bal. Twas abhorr'd and beastly. 10

Ren. Tis more then natures mightie hand can doe To make one humane and a letcher too. Looke how a wolfe doth like a dogge appeare, So like a friend is an adulterer; Voluptuaries, and these belly-gods, 15 No more true men are then so many toads. A good man happy is a common good; Vile men advanc'd live of the common bloud.

Bal. Give, and then take, like children!

Ren. Bounties are As soone repented as they happen rare. 20

Bal. What should Kings doe, and men of eminent places, But, as they gather, sow gifts to the graces? And where they have given, rather give againe (Being given for vertue) then, like babes and fooles, Take and repent gifts? why are wealth and power? 25

Ren. Power and wealth move to tyranny, not bountie; The merchant for his wealth is swolne in minde, When yet the chiefe lord of it is the winde.

Bal. That may so chance to our state-merchants too; Something performed, that hath not farre to goe. 30

Ren. That's the maine point, my lord; insist on that.

Bal. But doth this fire rage further? hath it taken The tender tynder of my wifes sere bloud? Is shee so passionate?

Ren. So wilde, so mad, Shee cannot live and this unwreakt sustaine. 35 The woes are bloudy that in women raigne. The Sicile gulfe keepes feare in lesse degree; There is no tyger not more tame then shee.

Bal. There is no looking home, then?

Ren. Home! Medea With all her hearbs, charmes, thunders, lightning, 40 Made not her presence and blacke hants more dreadfull.

Bal. Come, to the King; if he reforme not all, Marke the event, none stand where that must fall. Exeunt.

[SCAENA TERTIA.

A Room in the House of the Countess of Cambrai.]

Enter Countesse, Riova, and an Usher.

Usher. Madame, a captaine come from Clermont D'Ambois Desires accesse to you.

Countess. And not himselfe?

Ush. No, madame.

Count. That's not well. Attend him in. Exit Ush[er]. The last houre of his promise now runne out! And hee breake, some brack's in the frame of nature 5 That forceth his breach.

Enter Usher and Aumal.

Aumale. Save your ladiship!

Coun. All welcome! Come you from my worthy servant?

Aum. I, madame, and conferre such newes from him—

Coun. Such newes! what newes?

Aum. Newes that I wish some other had the charge of. 10

Coun. O, what charge? what newes?

Aum. Your ladiship must use some patience, Or else I cannot doe him that desire He urg'd with such affection to your graces.

Coun. Doe it, for heavens love, doe it! if you serve 15 His kinde desires, I will have patience. Is hee in health?

Aum. He is.

Count. Why, that's the ground Of all the good estate wee hold in earth; All our ill built upon that is no more Then wee may beare, and should; expresse it all. 20

Aum. Madame, tis onely this; his libertie—

Coun. His libertie! Without that health is nothing. Why live I, but to aske in doubt of that? Is that bereft him?

Aum. You'll againe prevent me.

Coun. No more, I sweare; I must heare, and together 25 Come all my miserie! Ile hold, though I burst.

Aum. Then, madame, thus it fares; he was envited, By way of honour to him, to take view Of all the powers his brother Baligny Hath in his government; which rang'd in battailes, 30 Maillard, Lieutenant to the Governour, Having receiv'd strickt letters from the King, To traine him to the musters and betray him To their supprise; which, with Chalon in chiefe, And other captaines (all the field put hard 35 By his incredible valour for his scape) They haplesly and guiltlesly perform'd; And to Bastile hee's now led prisoner.

Count. What change is here! how are my hopes prevented! O my most faithfull servant, thou betraid! 40 Will Kings make treason lawfull? Is societie (To keepe which onely Kings were first ordain'd) Lesse broke in breaking faith twixt friend and friend Then twixt the King and subject? let them feare Kings presidents in licence lacke no danger. 45 Kings are compar'd to Gods, and should be like them, Full in all right, in nought superfluous, Nor nothing straining past right for their right. Raigne justly, and raigne safely. Policie Is but a guard corrupted, and a way 50 Venter'd in desarts, without guide or path. Kings punish subjects errors with their owne. Kings are like archers, and their subjects, shafts: For as when archers let their arrowes flye, They call to them, and bid them flye or fall, 55 As if twere in the free power of the shaft To flye or fall, when onely tis the strength, Straight shooting, compasse given it by the archer, That makes it hit or misse; and doing eyther, Hee's to be prais'd or blam'd, and not the shaft: 60 So Kings to subjects crying, "Doe, doe not this," Must to them by their owne examples strength, The straightnesse of their acts, and equall compasse, Give subjects power t'obey them in the like; Not shoote them forth with faultie ayme and strength, 65 And lay the fault in them for flying amisse.

Aum. But for your servant, I dare sweare him guiltlesse.

Count. Hee would not for his kingdome traitor be; His lawes are not so true to him, as he. O knew I how to free him, by way forc'd 70 Through all their armie, I would flye, and doe it: And had I of my courage and resolve But tenne such more, they should not all retaine him. But I will never die, before I give Maillard an hundred slashes with a sword, 75 Chalon an hundred breaches with a pistoll. They could not all have taken Clermont D'Ambois Without their treacherie; he had bought his bands out With their slave blouds: but he was credulous; Hee would beleeve, since he would be beleev'd; 80 Your noblest natures are most credulous. Who gives no trust, all trust is apt to breake; Hate like hell mouth who thinke not what they speake.

Aum. Well, madame, I must tender my attendance On him againe. Will't please you to returne 85 No service to him by me?

Count. Fetch me straight My little cabinet. Exit Ancil[la]. Tis little, tell him, And much too little for his matchlesse love: But as in him the worths of many men Are close contracted, (Intr[at] Ancil[la.]) so in this are jewels 90 Worth many cabinets. Here, with this (good sir) Commend my kindest service to my servant, Thanke him, with all my comforts, and, in them, With all my life for them; all sent from him In his remembrance of mee and true love. 95 And looke you tell him, tell him how I lye She kneeles downe at his feete. Prostrate at feet of his accurst misfortune, Pouring my teares out, which shall ever fall, Till I have pour'd for him out eyes and all.

Aum. O madame, this will kill him; comfort you 100 With full assurance of his quicke acquitall; Be not so passionate; rise, cease your teares.

Coun. Then must my life cease. Teares are all the vent My life hath to scape death. Teares please me better Then all lifes comforts, being the naturall seede 105 Of heartie sorrow. As a tree fruit beares, So doth an undissembled sorrow, teares. Hee raises her, and leades her out. Exe[unt].

Usher. This might have beene before, and sav'd much charge. Exit.

LINENOTES:

5 brack's. Emended by all editors; Q, brack.

20 and should; expresse it all. So punctuated by all editors; Q, and should expresse it all.

31 Maillard. Q, Mailiard.

[SCAENA QUARTA.

A Room at the Court in Paris.]

Enter Henry, Guise, Baligny, Esp[ernone], Soisson. Pericot with pen, incke, and paper.

Guise. Now, sir, I hope you're much abus'd eyes see In my word for my Clermont, what a villaine Hee was that whisper'd in your jealous eare His owne blacke treason in suggesting Clermonts, Colour'd with nothing but being great with mee. 5 Signe then this writ for his deliverie; Your hand was never urg'd with worthier boldnesse: Come, pray, sir, signe it. Why should Kings be praid To acts of justice? tis a reverence Makes them despis'd, and showes they sticke and tyre 10 In what their free powers should be hot as fire.

Henry. Well, take your will, sir;—Ile have mine ere long.— Aversus. But wherein is this Clermont such a rare one?

Gui. In his most gentle and unwearied minde, Rightly to vertue fram'd in very nature; 15 In his most firme inexorable spirit To be remov'd from any thing hee chuseth For worthinesse; or beare the lest perswasion To what is base, or fitteth not his object; In his contempt of riches, and of greatnesse 20 In estimation of th'idolatrous vulgar; His scorne of all things servile and ignoble, Though they could gaine him never such advancement; His liberall kinde of speaking what is truth, In spight of temporising; the great rising 25 And learning of his soule so much the more Against ill fortune, as shee set her selfe Sharpe against him or would present most hard, To shunne the malice of her deadliest charge; His detestation of his speciall friends, 30 When he perceiv'd their tyrannous will to doe, Or their abjection basely to sustaine Any injustice that they could revenge; The flexibilitie of his most anger, Even in the maine careere and fury of it, 35 When any object of desertfull pittie Offers it selfe to him; his sweet disposure, As much abhorring to behold as doe Any unnaturall and bloudy action; His just contempt of jesters, parasites, 40 Servile observers, and polluted tongues— In short, this Senecall man is found in him, Hee may with heavens immortall powers compare, To whom the day and fortune equall are; Come faire or foule, whatever chance can fall, 45 Fixt in himselfe, hee still is one to all.