Chapter VIII: Epilogue (2)

_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).

[SCÆNA 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 sphære 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 SCÆNA 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?
Cæsar 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: +Amêchanon 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 Lacædemon; 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:

+Amêchanon+ (misprinted +Aukchanou+) . . . _Antig._
In left margin of Q.

ACTUS TERTII SCÆNA 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.

[SCÆNA 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.

[SCÆNA TERTIA.

_A Camp near Cambrai._]

_Enter Challon with two Souldiers._