Come, sonne, the morne comes on.

_Buss._ Now, honour'd mistresse, Till farther service call, all blisse supply you! 60

_Tam._ And you this chaine of pearle, and my love onely!

_Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]._ It is not I, but urgent destiny That (as great states-men for their generall end In politique justice make poore men offend) Enforceth my offence to make it just. 65 What shall weak dames doe, when th' whole work of Nature Hath a strong finger in each one of us?

Needs must that sweep away the silly cobweb Of our still-undone labours, that layes still Our powers to it, as to the line, the stone, 70 Not to the stone, the line should be oppos'd.

We cannot keepe our constant course in vertue: What is alike at all parts? every day Differs from other, every houre and minute; I, every thought in our false clock of life 75 Oft times inverts the whole circ.u.mference: We must be sometimes one, sometimes another.

Our bodies are but thick clouds to our soules, Through which they cannot shine when they desire.

When all the starres, and even the sunne himselfe, 80 Must stay the vapours times that he exhales Before he can make good his beames to us, O how can we, that are but motes to him, Wandring at random in his ordered rayes, Disperse our pa.s.sions fumes, with our weak labours, 85 That are more thick and black than all earths vapours?

_Enter Mont[surry]._

_Mont._ Good day, my love! what, up and ready too!

_Tam._ Both (my deare lord): not all this night made I My selfe unready, or could sleep a wink.

_Mont._ Alas, what troubled my true love, my peace, 90 From being at peace within her better selfe?

Or how could sleepe forbeare to seize thine eyes, When he might challenge them as his just prise?

_Tam._ I am in no powre earthly, but in yours.

To what end should I goe to bed, my lord, 95 That wholly mist the comfort of my bed?

Or how should sleepe possesse my faculties, Wanting the proper closer of mine eyes?

_Mont._ Then will I never more sleepe night from thee: All mine owne businesse, all the Kings affaires, 100 Shall take the day to serve them; every night Ile ever dedicate to thy delight.

_Tam._ Nay, good my lord, esteeme not my desires Such doters on their humours that my judgement Cannot subdue them to your worthier pleasure: 105 A wives pleas'd husband must her object be In all her acts, not her sooth'd fantasie.

_Mont._ Then come, my love, now pay those rites to sleepe Thy faire eyes owe him: shall we now to bed?

_Tam._ O no, my lord! your holy frier sayes 110 All couplings in the day that touch the bed Adulterous are, even in the married; Whose grave and worthy doctrine, well I know, Your faith in him will liberally allow.

_Mont._ Hee's a most learned and religious man. 115 Come to the Presence then, and see great D'Ambois (Fortunes proud mushrome shot up in a night) Stand like an Atlas under our Kings arme; Which greatnesse with him Monsieur now envies As bitterly and deadly as the Guise. 120

_Tam._ What! he that was but yesterday his maker, His raiser, and preserver?

_Mont._ Even the same.

Each naturall agent works but to this end, To render that it works on like it selfe; Which since the Monsieur in his act on D'Ambois 125 Cannot to his ambitious end effect, But that (quite opposite) the King hath power (In his love borne to D'Ambois) to convert The point of Monsieurs aime on his owne breast, He turnes his outward love to inward hate: 130 A princes love is like the lightnings fume, Which no man can embrace, but must consume. _Exeunt._

LINENOTES:

_Enter D'Ambois . . . pearle_. A, Bucy, Tamyra.

1-2 _Sweet . . . spice_. A omits.

28 _servile_. A, G.o.ddesse.

34 _our one_. So in A: B omits _our_.

35 _selfe_. A, truth.

37 _one_. A, men.

45-61 _Now let . . . Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]_. A omits.

92 _thine eies_. A, thy beauties.

118 _under our Kings arme_. A, underneath the King.

[ACTUS TERTII SCENA SECUNDA.

_A room in the Court._]

_Henry, D'Ambois, Monsieur, Guise, Dutches, Annabell, Charlot, Attendants._

_Henry._ Speak home, my Bussy! thy impartiall words Are like brave faulcons that dare trusse a fowle Much greater than themselves; flatterers are kites That check at sparrowes; thou shalt be my eagle, And beare my thunder underneath thy wings: 5 Truths words like jewels hang in th'eares of kings.

_Bussy_. Would I might live to see no Jewes hang there In steed of jewels--sycophants, I meane, Who use Truth like the Devill, his true foe, Cast by the angell to the pit of feares, 10 And bound in chaines; Truth seldome decks kings eares.

Slave flattery (like a rippiers legs rowl'd up In boots of hay-ropes) with kings soothed guts Swadled and strappl'd, now lives onely free.

O, tis a subtle knave; how like the plague 15 Unfelt he strikes into the braine of man, And rageth in his entrailes when he can, Worse than the poison of a red hair'd man.

_Henr._ Fly at him and his brood! I cast thee off, And once more give thee surname of mine eagle. 20

_Buss._ Ile make you sport enough, then. Let me have My lucerns too, or dogs inur'd to hunt Beasts of most rapine, but to put them up, And if I trusse not, let me not be trusted.

Shew me a great man (by the peoples voice, 25 Which is the voice of G.o.d) that by his greatnesse b.u.mbasts his private roofes with publique riches; That affects royaltie, rising from a clapdish; That rules so much more than his suffering King, That he makes kings of his subordinate slaves: 30 Himselfe and them graduate like woodmongers Piling a stack of billets from the earth, Raising each other into steeples heights; Let him convey this on the turning props Of Protean law, and (his owne counsell keeping) 35 Keepe all upright--let me but hawlk at him, Ile play the vulture, and so thump his liver That (like a huge unlading Argosea) He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.

Shew me a clergie man that is in voice 40 A lark of heaven, in heart a mowle of earth; That hath good living, and a wicked life; A temperate look, and a luxurious gut; Turning the rents of his superfluous cures Into your phesants and your partriches; 45 Venting their quintessence as men read Hebrew-- Let me but hawlk at him, and like the other, He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.

Shew me a lawyer that turnes sacred law (The equall rendrer of each man his owne, 50 The scourge of rapine and extortion, The sanctuary and impregnable defence Of retir'd learning and besieged vertue) Into a Harpy, that eates all but's owne, Into the d.a.m.ned sinnes it punisheth, 55 Into the synagogue of theeves and atheists; Blood into gold, and justice into l.u.s.t:-- Let me but hawlk at him, as at the rest, He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.

_Enter Mont-surrey, Tamira and Pero._

_Gui._ Where will you find such game as you would hawlk at? 60

_Buss._ Ile hawlk about your house for one of them.

_Gui._ Come, y'are a glorious ruffin and runne proud Of the Kings headlong graces; hold your breath, Or, by that poyson'd vapour, not the King Shall back your murtherous valour against me. 65

_Buss._ I would the King would make his presence free But for one bout betwixt us: by the reverence Due to the sacred s.p.a.ce twixt kings and subjects, Here would I make thee cast that popular purple In which thy proud soule sits and braves thy soveraigne. 70

_Mons._ Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace!

_Buss._ Let him peace first That made the first warre.

_Mons._ He's the better man.

_Buss._ And, therefore, may doe worst?

_Mons._ He has more t.i.tles.