Aumale. All the desert of good renowne your Highnesse!

Gui. Welcome, Aumall!

Cler. My good friend, friendly welcome!

How tooke my noblest mistresse the chang'd newes?

Aum. It came too late sir, for those loveliest eyes

(Through which a soule look't so divinely loving,145

Teares nothing uttering her distresse enough)

She wept quite out, and, like two falling starres,

Their dearest sights quite vanisht with her teares.

Cler. All good forbid it!

Gui. What events are these!

Cler. All must be borne, my lord; and yet this chance150

Would willingly enforce a man to cast off

All power to beare with comfort, since hee sees

In this our comforts made our miseries.

Gui. How strangely thou art lov'd of both the sexes;

Yet thou lov'st neyther, but the good of both.155

Cler. In love of women my affection first

Takes fire out of the fraile parts of my bloud;

Which, till I have enjoy'd, is passionate

Like other lovers; but, fruition past,

I then love out of judgement, the desert160

Of her I love still sticking in my heart,

Though the desire and the delight be gone,

Which must chance still, since the comparison

Made upon tryall twixt what reason loves,

And what affection, makes in mee the best165

Ever preferd, what most love, valuing lest.

Gui. Thy love being judgement then, and of the minde,

Marry thy worthiest mistresse now being blinde.

Cler. If there were love in mariage, so I would;

But I denie that any man doth love,170

Affecting wives, maides, widowes, any women:

For neither flyes love milke, although they drowne

In greedy search thereof; nor doth the bee

Love honey, though the labour of her life

Is spent in gathering it; nor those that fat175

On beasts, or fowles, doe any thing therein

For any love: for as when onely nature

Moves men to meate, as farre as her power rules,

Shee doth it with a temperate appetite,

The too much men devoure abhorring nature,180

And in our most health is our most disease:

So, when humanitie rules men and women,

Tis for societie confinde in reason.

But what excites the beds desire in bloud,

By no meanes justly can be construed love;185

For when love kindles any knowing spirit,

It ends in vertue and effects divine,

And is in friendship chaste and masculine.

Gui. Thou shalt my mistresse be; me thinkes my bloud

Is taken up to all love with thy vertues.190

And howsoever other men despise

These paradoxes strange and too precise,

Since they hold on the right way of our reason,

I could attend them ever. Come, away;

Performe thy brothers thus importun'd wreake;195

And I will see what great affaires the King

Hath to employ my counsell which he seemes

Much to desire, and more and more esteemes. Exeunt.

Bal. You must be then more secret in the waight

Of these your shadie counsels, who will else15

Beare (where such sparkes flye as the Guise and D'Ambois)

Pouder about them. Counsels (as your entrailes)

Should be unpierst and sound kept; for not those

Whom you discover you neglect; but ope

A ruinous passage to your owne best hope.20

Hen. Wee have spies set on us, as we on others;

And therefore they that serve us must excuse us,

If what wee most hold in our hearts take winde;

Deceit hath eyes that see into the minde.

But this plot shall be quicker then their twinckling,25

On whose lids Fate with her dead waight shall lie,

And confidence that lightens ere she die.

Friends of my Guard, as yee gave othe to be

True to your Soveraigne, keepe it manfully.

Your eyes have witnest oft th'ambition30

That never made accesse to me in Guise

But treason ever sparkled in his eyes;

Which if you free us of, our safetie shall

You not our subjects but our patrons call.

Omnes. Our duties binde us; hee is now but dead.35

Hen. Wee trust in it, and thanke ye. Baligny,

Goe lodge their ambush, and thou God, that art

Fautor of princes, thunder from the skies

Beneath his hill of pride this gyant Guise. Exeunt.

Char. They are but words in him; beleeve them not.

Tam. See; this is the vault where he must enter;

Where now I thinke hee is.

Renel. God save you, lady!

What gentleman is this, with whom you trust

The deadly waightie secret of this houre?20

Tam. One that your selfe will say I well may trust.

Ren. Then come up, madame. He helps the Countesse up.

See here, honour'd lady,

A Countesse that in loves mishap doth equall

At all parts your wrong'd selfe, and is the mistresse

Of your slaine servants brother; in whose love,25

For his late treachrous apprehension,

She wept her faire eyes from her ivory browes,

And would have wept her soule out, had not I

Promist to bring her to this mortall quarrie,

That by her lost eyes for her servants love30

She might conjure him from this sterne attempt,

In which (by a most ominous dreame shee had)

Shee knowes his death fixt, and that never more

Out of this place the sunne shall see him live.

Char. I am provided, then, to take his place 35

And undertaking on me.

Ren. You sir, why?

Char. Since I am charg'd so by my mistresse,

His mournfull sister.

Tam. See her letter, sir. Hee reades.

Good madame, I rue your fate more then mine,

And know not how to order these affaires,40

They stand on such occurrents.

Ren. This, indeede,

I know to be your lady mistresse hand;

And know besides, his brother will and must

Indure no hand in this revenge but his.

Umbra. Away, dispute no more; get up, and see!45

Clermont must auchthor this just tragedie.

Coun. Who's that?

Ren. The spirit of Bussy.

Tam. O my servant!

Let us embrace.

Umb. Forbeare! The ayre, in which

My figures liknesse is imprest, will blast.

Let my revenge for all loves satisfie,50

In which, dame, feare not, Clermont shall not dye.

No word dispute more; up, and see th'event. Exeunt Ladyes.

Make the guard sure, Renel; and then the doores

Command to make fast, when the Earle is in. Exit Ren[el].

The blacke soft-footed houre is now on wing,55

Which, for my just wreake, ghosts shall celebrate

With dances dire and of infernall state. Exit.

Guise. Who sayes that death is naturall, when nature

Is with the onely thought of it dismaid?

I have had lotteries set up for my death,

And I have drawne beneath my trencher one,

Knit in my hand-kerchiefe another lot,5

The word being, "Y'are a dead man if you enter";

And these words this imperfect bloud and flesh

Shrincke at in spight of me, their solidst part

Melting like snow within mee with colde fire.

I hate my selfe, that, seeking to rule Kings,10

I cannot curbe my slave. Would any spirit

Free, manly, princely, wish to live to be

Commanded by this masse of slaverie,

Since reason, judgement, resolution,

And scorne of what we feare, will yeeld to feare?15

While this same sincke of sensualitie swels,

Who would live sinking in it? and not spring

Up to the starres, and leave this carrion here,

For wolfes, and vultures, and for dogges to teare?

O Clermont D'Ambois, wert thou here to chide20

This softnesse from my flesh, farre as my reason,

Farre as my resolution not to stirre

One foote out of the way for death and hell!

Let my false man by falshood perish here;

There's no way else to set my true man cleere.25

Messenger. The King desires your Grace to come to Councill.

Gui. I come. It cannot be; hee will not dare

To touch me with a treacherie so prophane.

Would Clermont now were here, to try how hee

Would lay about him, if this plot should be:30

Here would be tossing soules into the skie.

Who ever knew bloud sav'd by treacherie?

Well, I must on, and will; what should I feare?

Not against two, Alcides; against two,

And Hercules to friend, the Guise will goe.35

Gui. Holde, murtherers! They strike him downe.

So then, this is confidence

In greatnes, not in goodnes. Wher is the King?

Let him appeare to justifie his deede,

In spight of my betrai'd wounds; ere my soule

Take her flight through them, and my tongue hath strength40

To urge his tyrannie.

Henry. See, sir, I am come

To justifie it before men and God,

Who knowes with what wounds in my heart for woe

Of your so wounded faith I made these wounds,

Forc't to it by an insolence of force45

To stirre a stone; nor is a rocke, oppos'd

To all the billowes of the churlish sea,

More beate and eaten with them then was I

With your ambitious, mad idolatrie;

And this bloud I shed is to save the bloud50

Of many thousands.

Gui. That's your white pretext;

But you will finde one drop of bloud shed lawlesse

Will be the fountaine to a purple sea.

The present lust and shift made for Kings lives,

Against the pure forme and just power of law,55

Will thrive like shifters purchases; there hangs

A blacke starre in the skies, to which the sunne

Gives yet no light, will raine a poyson'd shower

Into your entrailes, that will make you feele

How little safetie lies in treacherous steele.60

Cler. With what bloud charge you her? it may be mine

As well as yours; there shall not any else10

Enter or touch you: I conferre no guards,

Nor imitate the murtherous course you tooke,

But single here will have my former challenge

Now answer'd single; not a minute more

My brothers bloud shall stay for his revenge,15

If I can act it; if not, mine shall adde

A double conquest to you, that alone

Put it to fortune now, and use no ods.

Storme not, nor beate your selfe thus gainst the dores,

Like to a savage vermine in a trap:20

All dores are sure made, and you cannot scape

But by your valour.

Mont. No, no, come and kill mee.

Cler. If you will die so like a beast, you shall;

But when the spirit of a man may save you,

Doe not so shame man, and a Nobleman.25

Mont. I doe not show this basenesse that I feare thee,

But to prevent and shame thy victory,

Which of one base is base, and so Ile die.

Cler. Here, then.

Mont. Stay, hold! One thought hath harden'd me, He starts up.

And since I must afford thee victorie,30

It shall be great and brave, if one request

Thou wilt admit mee.

Cler. What's that?

Mont. Give me leave

To fetch and use the sword thy brother gave mee,

When he was bravely giving up his life.

Cler. No; Ile not fight against my brothers sword;35

Not that I feare it, but since tis a tricke

For you to show your backe.

Mont. By all truth, no:

Take but my honourable othe, I will not.

Cler. Your honourable othe! Plaine truth no place has

Where othes are honourable.

Tam. Trust not his othe. 40

Hee will lie like a lapwing; when shee flyes

Farre from her sought nest, still "Here tis" shee cryes.

Mont. Out on thee, damme of divels! I will quite

Disgrace thy bravos conquest, die, not fight. Lyes downe.

Tam. Out on my fortune, to wed such an abject!45

Now is the peoples voyce the voyce of God;

Hee that to wound a woman vants so much,

As hee did mee, a man dares never touch.

Cler. Revenge your wounds now, madame; I resigne him

Up to your full will, since hee will not fight.50

First you shall torture him (as hee did you,

And justice wils) and then pay I my vow.

Here, take this ponyard.

Mont. Sinke earth, open heaven,

And let fall vengeance!

Tam. Come sir, good sir, hold him.

Mont. O shame of women, whither art thou fled!55

Cler. Why (good my lord) is it a greater shame

For her then you? come, I will be the bands

You us'd to her, prophaning her faire hands.

Mont. No, sir, Ile fight now, and the terror be

Of all you champions to such as shee.60

I did but thus farre dally; now observe.

O all you aking fore-heads that have rob'd

Your hands of weapons and your hearts of valour,

Joyne in mee all your rages and rebutters,

And into dust ram this same race of Furies;65

In this one relicke of the Ambois gall,

In his one purple soule shed, drowne it all. Fight.

Mont. Now give me breath a while.

Cler. Receive it freely.

Mont. What thinke y'a this now?

Cler. It is very noble,

Had it beene free, at least, and of your selfe;70

And thus wee see (where valour most doth vant)

What tis to make a coward valiant.

Mont. Now I shall grace your conquest.

Cler. That you shall.

Mont. If you obtaine it.

Cler. True, sir, tis in fortune.

Mont. If you were not a D'Ambois, I would scarce75

Change lives with you, I feele so great a change

In my tall spirits breath'd, I thinke, with the breath

A D'Ambois breathes here; and necessitie

(With whose point now prickt on, and so whose helpe

My hands may challenge) that doth all men conquer,80

If shee except not you of all men onely,

May change the case here.

Cler. True, as you are chang'd;

Her power, in me urg'd, makes y'another man

Then yet you ever were.

Mont. Well, I must on.

Cler. Your lordship must by all meanes.

Mont. Then at all. 85

Charlotte. Death of my father, what a shame is this!

Sticke in his hands thus! She gets downe.

Renel [trying to stop her]. Gentle sir, forbeare!

Countess. Is he not slaine yet?

Ren. No, madame, but hurt

In divers parts of him.

Mont. Y'have given it me,

And yet I feele life for another vennie.90

Cler. What would you, sir?

Char. I would performe this combat.

Cler. Against which of us?

Char. I care not much if twere

Against thy selfe; thy sister would have sham'd

To have thy brothers wreake with any man

In single combat sticke so in her fingers.95

Cler. My sister! know you her?

Tam. I, sir, shee sent him

With this kinde letter, to performe the wreake

Of my deare servant.

Cler. Now, alas! good sir,

Thinke you you could doe more?

Char. Alas! I doe;

And wer't not I, fresh, sound, should charge a man100

Weary and wounded, I would long ere this

Have prov'd what I presume on.

Cler. Y'have a minde

Like to my sister, but have patience now;

If next charge speede not, Ile resigne to you.

Mont. Pray thee, let him decide it.

Cler. No, my lord, 105

I am the man in fate; and since so bravely

Your lordship stands mee, scape but one more charge,

And, on my life, Ile set your life at large.

Mont. Said like a D'Ambois, and if now I die,

Sit joy and all good on thy victorie!110

Mont. Farewell! I hartily forgive thee; wife,

And thee; let penitence spend thy rest of life. Hee gives his hand to Cler[mont] and his wife.

Cler. Noble and Christian!

Tam. O, it breakes my heart.

Cler. And should; for all faults found in him before

These words, this end, makes full amends and more.115

Rest, worthy soule; and with it the deare spirit

Of my lov'd brother rest in endlesse peace!

Soft lie thy bones; Heaven be your soules abode;

And to your ashes be the earth no lode!

Cler. How strange is this! The Guise amongst these spirits,120

And his great brother Cardinall, both yet living!

And that the rest with them with joy thus celebrate

This our revenge! This certainely presages

Some instant death both to the Guise and Cardinall.

That the Shattilions ghost to should thus joyne125

In celebration of this just revenge

With Guise that bore a chiefe stroke in his death,

It seemes that now he doth approve the act;

And these true shadowes of the Guise and Cardinall,

Fore-running thus their bodies, may approve130

That all things to be done, as here wee live,

Are done before all times in th'other life.

That spirits should rise in these times yet are fables;

Though learnedst men hold that our sensive spirits

A little time abide about the graves135

Of their deceased bodies, and can take,

In colde condenc't ayre, the same formes they had

When they were shut up in this bodies shade.

Aumale. O sir, the Guise is slaine!

Cler. Avert it heaven!

Aum. Sent for to Councill by the King, an ambush140

(Lodg'd for the purpose) rusht on him, and tooke

His princely life; who sent (in dying then)

His love to you, as to the best of men.

Cler. The worst and most accursed of things creeping

On earths sad bosome. Let me pray yee all145

A little to forbeare, and let me use

Freely mine owne minde in lamenting him.

Ile call yee straight againe.

Aum. We will forbeare,

And leave you free, sir. Exeunt.

Cler. Shall I live, and hee

Dead, that alone gave meanes of life to me?150

Theres no disputing with the acts of Kings;

Revenge is impious on their sacred persons.

And could I play the worldling (no man loving

Longer then gaine is reapt or grace from him)

I should survive; and shall be wondred at155

Though (in mine owne hands being) I end with him:

But friendship is the sement of two mindes,

As of one man the soule and body is,

Of which one cannot sever but the other

Suffers a needfull separation.160

Cler. Since I could skill of man, I never liv'd

To please men worldly, and shall I in death

Respect their pleasures, making such a jarre

Betwixt my death and life, when death should make165

The consort sweetest, th'end being proofe and crowne

To all the skill and worth wee truely owne?

Guise, O my lord, how shall I cast from me

The bands and coverts hindring me from thee?

The garment or the cover of the minde170

The humane soule is; of the soule, the spirit

The proper robe is; of the spirit, the bloud;

And of the bloud, the body is the shrowd.

With that must I beginne then to unclothe,

And come at th'other. Now, then, as a ship175

Touching at strange and farre removed shores,

Her men a shore goe, for their severall ends,

Fresh water, victuals, precious stones, and pearle,

All yet intentive, when the master cals,

The ship to put off ready, to leave all180

Their greediest labours, lest they there be left

To theeves or beasts, or be the countries slaves:

So, now my master cals, my ship, my venture

All in one bottome put, all quite put off,

Gone under saile, and I left negligent185

To all the horrors of the vicious time,

The farre remov'd shores to all vertuous aimes,

None favouring goodnesse, none but he respecting

Pietie or man-hood—shall I here survive,

Not cast me after him into the sea,190

Rather then here live, readie every houre

To feede theeves, beasts, and be the slave of power?

I come, my lord! Clermont, thy creature, comes. Hee kils himselfe.

Aum. What! lye and languish, Clermont! Cursed man,

To leave him here thus! hee hath slaine himselfe.195

Tam. Misery on misery! O me wretched dame,

Of all that breath! all heaven turne all his eyes

In harty envie thus on one poore dame.

Char. Well done, my brother! I did love thee ever,

But now adore thee: losse of such a friend200

None should survive, of such a brother [none.]

With my false husband live, and both these slaine!

Ere I returne to him, Ile turne to earth.

Ren. Horror of humane eyes! O Clermont D'Ambois!

Madame, wee staid too long, your servant's slaine.205

Coun. It must be so; he liv'd but in the Guise,

As I in him. O follow life mine eyes!

Tam. Hide, hide thy snakie head; to cloisters flie;

In pennance pine; too easie tis to die.

Char. It is. In cloisters then let's all survive.210

Madame, since wrath nor griefe can helpe these fortunes,

Let us forsake the world in which they raigne,

And for their wisht amends to God complaine.

Count. Tis fit and onely needfull: leade me on;

In heavens course comfort seeke, in earth is none. Exeunt. 215

Henry. Wee came indeede too late, which much I rue,

And would have kept this Clermont as my crowne.

Take in the dead, and make this fatall roome

(The house shut up) the famous D'Ambois tombe. Exeunt.