Thy radiant forehead in the firmament, Make the vast crystal crack with thy receipt ;

Spread to a world of fire; and th'aged sky

Cheer with new sparks of old humanity.

Son of the earth, whom my unrested soul, Rues t'have begotten in the faith of heaven;

(Since thy revengeful spirit hath rejected The charity it commands, and the remission

To serve and worship the blind rage of blood)

Assay to gratulate and pacify

The soul fled from this worthy by performing

The Christian reconcilement he besought Betwixt thee and thy lady, let her wounds Manlessly digg'd in her, be eased and cured

With blame of thine own tears; or be assured

Never to rest free from my haunt and horror.

Mont. See how she merits this; still sitting by,

And mourning his fall more than her own fault.

Um. Remove, dear daughter, and content thy husband;

So piety wills thee, and thy servant's peace. Ta. O wretched piety, that art so distract

In thine own constancy; and in thy right Must be unrighteous; if Kright my friend I wrong my husband; if his wrong shun,

The duty of my friend I leave undone ; Ill plays on both sides; here and there, it riseth;

AMBO

No place, no good, so good, but ill com

But cloak'd it privately and made it com

mon;

Nor never honour'd been, in blood, or mind,

Happy had I been then, as others are Of the like licence; I had then becn honour'd;

Lived without envy; custom had benumb'd

All sense of scruple, and all note of frailty: My fame had been untouch'd, my heart unbroken:

But (shunning all) I strike on all offence, O husband! dear friend! O my conscience!

Mo. Come, let's away; my senses are not proof

Against those plaints.

[Exeunt Guise. Monsieur D'Ambois is borne off.

Mont. I must not yield to pity, nor to love

So servile and so traitorous cease, my blood

To wrastle with my honour, fame, and judgment:

Away, forsake my house, forbear complaints

Where thou hast bred them: here all things are full

Of their own shame and sorrow; leave my house.

Ta. Sweet lord, forgive me, and I will

With hands held up to heaven, wish that mine honour

Would suffer reconcilement to my love; But since it will not, honour, never serve My love with flourishing object till it

sterve:

And as this taper, though it upwards look,

SCENE I.

Enter Baligny, Renel.

Ba. To what will this declining kingdom turn,

Swindging in every licence, as in this Stupid permission of brave D'Ambois' murther?

Murther made parallel with law! Murther used

To serve the kingdom, given by suit to men For their advancement! suffer'd scarecrowlike

To fright adultery! What will policy
At length bring under his capacity?

Re. All things: for as when the high births of kings, Deliverances, and coronations, We celebrate with all the cities' bells (Jangling together in untuned confusion); All order'd clocks are tied up so when glory,

Flattery, and smooth applauses of things ill,

Uphold th'inordinateswindge of downright power,

Justice, and truth, that tell the bounded

use,

Virtuous, and well-distinguish'd forms of Time

Are gagg'd and tongue-tied, but we have observed

Rule in more regular motion: things most lawful

Were once most royal, kings sought common good,

Men's manly liberties, though ne'er so

mean,

And had their own swindge so: more free, and more.

But when pride enter'd them, and rule by power,

All brows that smiled beneath them, frown'd hearts grieved

By imitation; virtue quite was vanish'd, And all men studied self-love, fraud, and vice;

Then no man could be good but he was punish'd:

Tyrants being still more fearful of the good

Than of the bad; their subjects' virtues ever Managed with curbs and dangers, and esteem'd

As shadows and detractions to their own.

Ba. Now all is peace, no danger: now

what follows?

Idleness rusts us; since no virtuous labour Ends ought rewarded: ease, security, Now all the palm wears, we made war bc

fore

So to prevent war, men with giving gifts More than receiving, made our country strong;

Our matchless race of soldiers then would spend

In public wars, not private brawls, their spirits,

In daring enemies, arm'd with meanest

arms;

Not courting strumpets, and consuming birthrights

In apishness and envy of attire. No labour then was harsh, no way so deep,

No rock so steep, but if a bird could scale it,

Up would our youth fly too. A foe in

arms

Stirr'd up a much more lust of his en

counter,

Than of a mistress never so be-painted; Ambition then, was only scaling walls; And over-topping turrets; fame was wealth;

Best parts, best deeds, were best nobility; Honour with worth; and wealth well got

or none:

Countries we won with as few men as countries:

Virtue subdued all.

Re. Just and then our nobles

Loved virtue so, they praised and used it

too :

Had rather do, than say; their own deeds hearing

By others glorified, than be so barren, That their parts only stood in praising others.

Ba. Who could not do, yet praised, and envied not;

Civil behaviour flourish'd; bounty flow'd, Avarice to upland boors, slaves, hangmen, banish'd.

Re. 'Tis now quite otherwise; but to note the cause

Of all these foul digressions and revolts From our first natures, this 'tis in a word:

Since good arts fail, crafts and deceits are used;

Men ignorant are idle; idle men

Most practise what they most may do with ease,

Fashion, and favour; all their studies aiming

Ba. That one accident was made my charge.

My brother Bussy's sister, now my wife,
By no suit would consent to satisfy
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 wreak,
Which he hath vow'd, and so will needs
acquit

Me of my vow, made to my wife, his sister, And undertake himself Bussy's revenge; Yet loathing any way to give it act,

But in the noblest and most manly course;
If th earl dares take it, he resolves to send
A challenge to him, and myself must bear
it,

To which delivery I can use no means;
He is so barricado'd in his house,
And arm'd with guard still.

Re. That means lay on me, Which I can strangely make. My last lands' sale,

By his great suit, stands now on price with him,

And he, as you know, passing covetous, With that blind greediness that follows gain,

Will cast no danger, where her sweet feet tread.

Besides, you know, his lady by his suit, (Wooing as freshly, as when first love shot His faultless arrows from her rosy eyes) Now lives with him again, and she, I know, Will join with all helps in her friend's revenge.

Ba. No doubt, my lord, and therefore let me pray you