_Clermont._ No, let him use it.

_Mont._ Treason! murther! murther!

_Cler._ Exclaime not; tis in vaine, and base in you, Being one to onely one.

_Mont._ O bloudy strumpet!

_Cler._ With what bloud charge you her? it may be mine As well as yours; there shall not any else 10 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 n.o.bleman. 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 G.o.d; 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 reb.u.t.ters, 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 n.o.ble, 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 scarce 75 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 p.r.i.c.kt 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

_Fights, and D'Ambois hurts him._

_[Enter Renel, the Countess, and] Charlotte above._

_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

_Enter Charlotte [below]._

_Cler._ What would you, sir?

_Char._ I would performe this combat.

_Cler._ Against which of us?