University of Virginia Library

ACT. IV.

SCENE I.

King, Guise, D'Ambois, Mountsurry, Dutcherse, Tamira, Beaupre, Charlotte, Pero, Anabell, Monsieur: As at a Banquet, a Song and Dance performed, which ended, the King rises.
King.
No Joy can always last, our Griefs and Pleasures,
Hold several Sceptres in us, and have times
For their devided Empires; and that a Monarch,
Guarded with Power, and blest with smiling Beauty:
Hem'd round with Friends, and sated with new Pleasures,
Cannot controll the ills of waining Nature;
Tells us, there is above us something more,
And greater that O'er rules us.

Guis.
Our Melancholly is the Child of Musick:
Our Passions are so pleased with it they Surfeit.

Bus.
Methinks the Lady's Cheeks are pale o'th'sudden,
And sure your Grace has lost that quickning Genius,
That us'd to influence the Company.

Dutch.
I leave it now to you Sir, meerly to contradict
That common saying, that Women ne'er are silent.

Mons.
That silence, often is a Sullen fit,
That Ladies use oft to introduce their Wit.

Dutch.
I wish your Mistress were here, my Lord, then
We should have, no doubt, a piece of Gayety, I
Believe your Highness consults your Doctor always
About your Women, who advises ye to chuse a pert
Noisie, talking empty Creature, meerly to help
Your Constitution, and drive away the Spleen?

Mons.
Why, faith, a Doctor, is very necessary to Madam,
Consult with, about some Women in some Cases.

Mont.
He's the very Key keeper of their closest Cabinets:
There should, in reason, be no other Match-maker.

Bus.
Then your Reason, in such a Case, would rather
Be guided by Interest than Justice: Now in my opinion

The Musty Father, that when his Daughter is of years of Discretion, will
not let her choose a Husband for her self, ought to keep on her leading
Strings, and let the Changling Dance about the World, in her Primitive
Bibs and Aprons.

Guis.
What say you to that Madam—

[to Tamira
Tam.
I think the Man has answered very well?

Mons.
The Man, why Madam, d'ye not know his Name?

Tam.
Man, is a Name of honour for a King;
Additions often lessen Qualities.

Mons.
D'ye hear, Count; here is a Bar set to your Valour,
It cannot enter here; no not to Notice,
Of what your Name is, your great Eagles beak,
Should you fly at her, had as good Encounter
An Albion Cliff, as her obdurate heart.

Bus.
I'll not attempt her, Sir? I've heard her Character,
And dare not venture,

King.
So fond she's of her Husband, she uses all men Scurvily:

Mons.
You would say so, if you knew all, Sir.

Tam.
Knew all, my Lord, what mean you?

Mons.
All that I know, Madam,

Tam.
That you know speak it.

Mons.
No, 'tis enough I feel it.

[Passes from her scornfully.
Dutch.
My Lord, if I did know any thing that—
[to Mont.
Concerns him, you should be the last man, I would
Tell it too; you were not contriv'd to keep a Secret;
I could no more trust a man with that colour'd
Eye brow, and Astronomical sort of a Nose,
Than I would my own woman, if she were baited
With a Husband to trap me in an Intreague:

Mons.
Sweet-heart come hither, prithee what if a man
Should make horns at Monsurry, would it not strike
Him jealous through all Proofs of his Chaste Ladies Virtues.

Bus.
If he be wise, not.

Mons.
What? not, if I should name the Gardner,
That I would have him think has grafted him.

Bus.
That's as the License, that your Greatness uses,
To Jest at all men, may be taught and constur'd;

Mons.
He could not sure be so blind and stupid,
But he must feel a Pang.

Bus.
And you perhaps might feel a worser Punishment,
For doing such a mischief,

Mons.
How, prithee, how?

Bus.
Perhaps led with a Train, where you may have
Your Nose made less and slit, your Eyes thrust out.

Mons.
To me such violence,
Who dares doe this to th'Brother of his King;

Bus.
Were you best Brother to the best of Kings,
As you are one oth'worst, did all your Pimps and Panders
Stand round to aid ye, all your stormy Laws,
Spouted by Lawyers mouths, and gushing Blood,
Like to so many Torrents; plead against me
All your Prerogatives, your Racks and Tortures,
The barbrous Engines of your damn'd Ambition:
All daring Heaven, and opening Hell about ye;
Were I the Man ye wrong'd so, and provok'd,
Though ne'er so much beneath ye, like a Box-tree,
I would by the firm Toughness of my Root.
And the Indulgence of my Radical Vigour,
Battel with all your Whirlwinds; and at last,
Should you seek shelter in the Earths dark Caverns:
Through Flames and Earthquakes, I would find ye there,
And like a Bubble blow ye into Air.

Mons.
Go, thou'rt a Devil, such another Spirit
Cannot be still'd from all th'Armenian Dragons.

King.
Here's nought but whispering with us, like a Calm
Before a Tempest, when the silent Air
Lays her soft Ear close to the Earth, to hearken.
[Call Tamira, Charlot.
For what she fears, steals on to Ravish her.
It looks, as it forerunn'd some Controversie;
Come, my brave Eagle, lets to Covert fly.

Bus.
Sir, I attend your Pleasure.

[Exit. King leaning upon D'ambois.
Guis.
The King was right in his prophetick Speech,
[after them the Ladies.
Now stir the Humour and begin the brawl—

[To Monsieur. Exit.
Mont.
The King and D' Ambois, now are grown all one?

Mons.
No, they are two, my Lord,

[makes horns at him.
Mont.
How's that?

Mons.
No more.

Mont.
I must have more my Lord?

Mons.
What, more than two,

[Points agen.
Mont.
How monstrous is this:

Mons.
Why?

Mont.
You make me horns;

Mons.
Not I, it is a work beyond my Power,
Married mens Branches, are not made with Fingers;
Your Wife, you know is a meer Cinthia,
And she can fashion Horns out of her Nature.

Mont.
But do's she, dare you Charge her, Speak.

Enter Tamira and Charlotte.
Mons.
Not at this time my Lord, you see who Enters,
But when next we meet, I'll have a Paper for ye,
That shall unfold it, better then my Tongue;
In the mean time be Wise,

Tam.
What says he?

Mont.
You must make good the rest.

Tam.
What is't, my Lord,
Takes my Love any thing to heart, he says?

Mont.
Come you are A—

Tam.
What my Lord, alas! will you revenge,
Your Angers Just, cause given by him, on me.

Mont.
By him?

Tam.
I have admired a Thousand times,
How you so long could be at Friendship with him.
That still has plaid such Discords on your Honour.

Mont.
If he has plaid, I do suppose your Ladyship
Lent him the Instrument.

Tam.
How's that, my Lord?

Mont.
Come you will still admire,
Till my Head be the Miracle oth'World.

Tam.
Oh!—

Seems to sound.
Charl.
Alas! She faints, help, good my Lord, and bend her
Forward, speak to her, good my Lord.

Mont.
Look up, my Love, and by this Kiss receive
My Soul amongst thy Spirits, I am sorry,
I was so Rash.

Tam.
Oh! I have liv'd too long, to hear this from ye;

Mont.
'Twas from my troubled Blood, and not from me,
I was not then my self, to tell ye Truth;
That wicked Prince, that left me when you entred,
Did like a Gorgon turn me, into stone;
And stabb'd me to the heart, thus with his Fingers.

Tam.
The base Effect of the inveterate Malice
He owes me, for my shunning his foul suit;
You see 'tis plain, my Lord.

Mont.
I know not whether he will vaunt t' have been
The Princely Author of this slavish Sin,
Or any other, he would have resolv'd me,
Had you not come; and now has Promis'd further
To show't in writing, which I'm resolv'd I'll see:
I will about it instantly; Oh! Heaven defend;
He should speak Truth for Madness, then would follow;
And in my Rage there would be found no Limits.

[Exit. Mont.
Tam.
'Tis most impossible, he should discover it,
For no one knows it, but my Governess;
And, poor Soul, she is so charm'd with Charity,
She thinks our meeting is a Case of Conscience:
However, I will strait inform my Love,
And then we shall be arm'd, whatever happens.

[Exit.
Charl.
I'm Conscious to my self, here will be—
A world of mischief, about my plaguy Tongue now,
But the Monsieur has made my Stomach so wamble,
Ever since he promised me this Husband, and this
Ladyship do's buz all Night in my head: so that I
Can't sleep a Jot for't; well, to be a faithful Servant to
A Good Lady, is a fine thing, but to be a good
Lady, for being no faithful Servant, is a finer thing, and
Dignity since thy Face of Honour is towards me;
Duty is but a kind of Footman, and I may kick him out of Doors.

[Exit.

SCENE. II.

Enter Dillon, La Foyle, and another Servant.
Dill.
Where's my Lord Mountsurry's Groom?

La Foy.
Here, here, are the Maids, and the Sack Posset ready.

Dill.
All, all; we want nothing, but to get this musty Steward
Out oth'way, prithee do but play thy part well now,
And the Night's our own,

La Foy.
I'll warrant thee, let me alone,

Dill.
Away, away, here he comes.

[Exit. Lay Foyle.
Enter Maffe.
Maff.
Is the Fencing Master come yet?

Dill.
Yes Sir, he's below, and the rarest Fellow in all France; he shall
Pick ye out any Button upon your Coat, Sir, and
Carry it away upon his Point, without having any
Communication with your small Guts; or doing you
The least harm in the World.

Maff.
But, Sir, my Guts are within a hairs breadth of my
Buttons, and I'll not venture his Point, so near 'em;
I thank ye, if he can teach me without touching me,
So; if not, let him keep his Communications to himself.
Go call him up, and let none come in else, I charge ye;
But carry the Tenants, that wait without to speak with
Me into the Buttery, and give 'em Pints a piece of small
Beer, to chear their Hearts against they pay their Money.

Dill.
Sir, there's a pretty young Woman amongst 'em,
Must I serve them all alike.

Maff.
We must be civil to women, Sirrah; now, encourage her Pint with a
Gill of Sack, and d'ye hear; tell her, 'twas an especial favour from me.

Dill.
Out of the Gallon Bottle, that stands by your Bedside, Sir?

Maff.
Ay, Dunce; what else? Pox on thee get thee; gone, and
Send up the Fencing Master.
[Exit. Dillon.
I have taken a shrew'd opinion, that my being
Beaten and kick'd lately, was not so much through my
Want of Courage, as want of Skill, in defending
My self; and therefore am now resolv'd to learn
By Rule and Method, to beat tihs Tarmagant Fellow
D'Ambois; as I believe, he has learn't to beat me; for
To say the Truth, he did it as readily, as if he had serv'd
A Prenticeship, and learn't a Trade of beating People;
And therefore, if Art can make a man valiant, I'll
Practise hard, but I'll be reveng'd of him; for I am told
This Valour is but a meer Trick, after all I have seen
One my self, that has Cock'd, huff'd, and look'd as big as
If he would have eaten another, at a Morsel; and has
Been Cudgel'd by a Third a minute after, and not thought
Himself a Jot the worse for't neither.
Enter La Foyle.
Your Servant, Sir.

La Foy.
Yours, Sir,

Maff.
I suppose Sir; you are ignorant why I sent for ye;
Therefore before we enter into farther Correspondence,
Pray, what is your Name?

La Foy.
La Foyle, Sir, at your Service.

Maff.
La Foyle! That's a very good Name for a Fencing Master.
And pray, Monsieur La Foyle, how long have you studied this Science?

La Foy.
Ah! Sir, I almost suck'd it in with my Milk. I had
The honour to be employed in the Academy at Rome,
At eleven yeas old, where some time after, receiving
An Affront, I challenged my Enemy, fought him, whipt
Him through the Guts, and killed him, and then
[Acts his Speech pushing and striking Maff.
Fled into Spain, where meeting with a
Courtesan one night when I was drunk, I
Made bold to seize her; cut the Fellows Throat that
Guarded her; and then with the next shipping came over hither.

Maff.
Well, well, Good Sir; but pray not too much of your
Action,—What a Cut-Throat Son of a Whore have
I met with here; 'dsheart, he makes me tremble to hear him.

[Aside.
La Foy.
As to the rest of my Travels, Sir, they are very
Quaint and full of Variety, but amongst all places I had
The worst success at Venice; the Natives are all there
Inclin'd to Luxury and Sloth, and want Mettle to
Murder one another handsomely; I was forct there to kill
A Man every other Night my self, meerly to force a Trade.

Maff.
A very pretty Trade indeed; this is the Devil of a
Fellow—But you have done none of these handsome
Exploits since you came hither, Friend, have you?

La Foy.
Not yet, Sir; not yet.

Maff.
No, no, all in good time; Hum! 'dsheart this Rogue
Makes no more of killing a Man, than I do of cutting a Corn.

[Aside.
La Foy.
Truly, Sir, Ingenuity must live; I had like to have
Signaliz'd my self last Night though, you shall hear
How Sir: I went to a Comedy, and intending to
Introduce my Parts mildly amongst 'em, I only civilly
Pluck'd the next Man, that sat by me, by the Nose.

Maff.
A great Civility truly; pray go on, Sir.

La Foy.
Upon this, Sir, he draws, which was the thing I looked for;
For instantly, whip was I in with him in
Cart thus—clap'd him through the Shoulder,
And threw him backwards over the Benches;
Slash'd another that was taking his part with
A back Blow cross the Face thus—And
[Acts his Speech still, kicking and beating, trips Maffe down.
Then trip'd up the Heels of a third, that
Stood in my way thus; and made my escape in spite of 'em.

Maff.
Thus, thus, thus, I think the Devils in the Fellow,
A Pox can't you tell a Story, but you must break
A Man's Bones about it?

La Foy.
I cry ye Mercy, Sir.

Maff.
My Mercy; in the Devil's Name; when you have
Almost thump'd a Man's Guts out; nay, prithee not
A word more, I'de as lieve fight with thee, has hear
Thee tell another Story.

La Foy.
Action is so natural to us, Sir, that sometimes
We hardly know whether we are fighting in Earnest,
Or relating in Jest. But come, Sir, shall I show ye
Any thing, shall I set ye a Lesson?

Maff.
Why? yes, would willingly you should shew me,
If you could, a sure way never to be kill'd;

La Foy.
I'll don't, Sir; draw.

Maff.
Draw! what, and be decently whipt through
The Guts, as you were saying iust now. Prithee, I'll
Not draw, not not I.

La Foy.
Let the Scabbard be on, Sir.

Maff.
I'll not trust to that, the Chape may be broke
For ought I know, and the Point be amongst my Puddings
Before I'm aware; come, come, here are
A couple of Bedstaves, these will doe as well.

La Foy.
Well, Sir; your Guard,—higher a little, keep your
Arm streight. Sir; So, Pass, now Pass, Sir;
Pass.

Maff.
Ay, with all my heart.

[Goes on to'ther side.
La Foy.
Pish! I mean, thrust at me,—thus, look ye,

[Thumps him.
Maff.

Thus, look ye; Pox take ye, with a Thump in the Guts agen; prithee
where's the Trick all this while?

La Foy.
Presently, Sir;—your Guard agen; so
Parry now, Sir; Parry, Parry, Sir; I'm in your Body else.

Maff.
The Fellow's mad.—

[Thrusts at Maffe, who turns, and runs away.
La Foy.
Why, Sir; you run away.

Maff.
'Tis time to run away, I think, when a man is
Like to have a Bedstaff in's Guts.

La Foy.
There's your Trick, Sir; that's a certain way now, never to
Be kill'd now.

Maff.
I gad, and so 'tis; this is an Arch Rogue, but a Damn'd
Bloody minded Dog, for all that.

La Foy.
Ah, Sir; I have another Trick worth two of this; for
Besides my coming to wait on you, I was appointed
Here by Count D'Ambois, to show it this afternoon before his Highness.

Maff.
D'Ambois?

[Noise within.
La Foy.
Ay, Sir; here be hee'r instantly himself: Hark, I think I hear him.

Maff.
The Devil thou dost, ds'heart, his very Name has
Put me into such a trembling, I shall not recover
My self this Month; Oh! let me go.

La Foy.
What! Before you have learn't your Lesson Sir?

Maff.
Lesson! Prithee don't talk to me of Lessons now;
Ay 'tis he, he comes like a Whirldwind.
[Noise within.
Stand out of my way, don't hinder me; I'm shot like
An Arrow, and intend to be at the Indies
Within this half hour.—

[Runs out, and overthrows, Tables, Stools, and all in's way.
Lay. Foy.
Ha, ha, ha; Is he safe now?

Enter Dillon.
Dill.
Secure for this Night, I'me sure: And now for the
Sack-posset with the Maids.

La Foy.
Off, my false Beard, and Disguise then. What sayst thou?
Did I not Act it rarely? I have beaten the Rogue damnably.

Dill.
'Twas admirably done, Faith; for there was no way
But this last to get rid of him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE. III.

Enter D'Ambois, Tamira, and Teresia.
Tam.
Oh! if your Love were ever more than outward;
If all your Vows, and Oaths, and soft Endearments,
Were not th'Effects of an ungenerous heat,
That Broods in Fools, that seek t' undoe poor Women.
Be diligent, and search this to the Bottom.
For 'tis most certain, that this Devillish Monsieur,
Some way or other knows, our close Intrigue.

Bussy.
What Cold, Dull, Northern Brain, what Fool but he
Durst take, like Epimethius, to his Breast
A Box of such Plagues, as the Danger yields
Incurr'd in the Discovery; he had better
Venture his Face to the Consuming blast
Of fiercest Lightning, when it rends the Clouds;
Or stand the Thunder, which, to purge the Sky,
The Cyclops ram, in Jove's Artillery,

Tam.
The Venome of his Nature; makes him Prophesie
And may my Curse,
Fill'd with the Poison of a Woman's hate,
Torture him for his Labour, if he know it.

Pietro.
I always thought he dealt with the Devil, for else
Which way should he know it, my self being the
Only Person concerned; and, I am sure, none knows
It by me; for I thank Heaven, I have too much
Religion in me, to doe such a mischief.

Tam.
What further mischief will arise, Heaven knows;
But I am still th'unhappy Cause of all.

Bussy.
Call not thy self unhappy, if my Love
Was ever grateful to thee, by thy Beauty,
The unvalued Banquet that do's feast my Soul,
And all the Joys that swell'd my panting Heart,
When, Angel-like, thou gav'st a taste of Heaven,
I cannot hear thee blame that Precious Minute,
Or show the least repining, without trouble.

Tam.
How innocent was I, when first I lov'd,
How much reserv'd and Chaste my Inclinations!
But Fate, alas is strong, and Women weak.
And if the learn'd Philosophers say true,
None e're can keep a constant Course in Vertue;
What's now, alike in all parts, every day
Differs from other, nay, each Hour and Minute;
Ay, every Thought in our false Clock of Life.
Wastes the unvalued Treasure of our Time,
Our Bodies are but thick Clouds to our Souls,
Through which they cannot shine, when they desire;
Nay, all the Stars, and even the Sun himself,
Must wait the motion of the humid Vapours,
Which he himself exhales; else 'twere impossible,
He ever should disperse his Beams to us:
How then can, we that are but Motes to him,
Wandring like Attoms in his dazling Rays,
Overcome our sollid Passions?

Bussy.
'Tis impossible,
Nor did wise Providence design we should:
But having given Free-will, it self stand Neuter,
To see how Mortals wear their Jewel, Reason.

Tam.
Oh! but I fear the wrong done to my Husband.

Bussy.
Thy Husband! that's to me, I am thy Husband;
The Man to whom thy first dear Vows were plighted,
Mountsurry, a vile and Irreligious Robber,
That breaking to my Garden, stole my Fruit,
Devour'd my Eyes, my Lips, my Breast, my Heart,
With an unsanctified Voracious Appetite,
Gorg'd on ripe Beauty blushing on the Bow,
E're I had time to taste my own first blessings.
And can'st thou have the Heart to call him Husband,
Before my Face, that has thus wrong'd thy Husband?
Recant, Recant, and by Love's mighty Power
I Charge thee henceforth, style him so no more.

Tam.
Oh! thou dear Charmer of my too fond Heart,
I cannot blame thee, though thou hast undone me;
My Soul is so possessed with the strong Passion.
[Call Mountsurry, Monsieur, and Guise.
And all my Powers, tend so much towards it,
That I can forfeit Vertue, Fame, and Honour,
To run, and Sacrifice my self to thee;
And since my Fate designs me for a Sacrifice,
As by my Boding Fears, I find it does,
Know I will die for thee without a Murmur:
And Fame shall sing aloud, none ever fell
So unconcern'd as I, or lov'd so well;

Bussy.
Can the dear Soul of all I wish in Life,
Talk to me thus of Death, and I so near her?
No, I have brav'd the meagre Feind so often,
He not dares touch one precious Grain of thee;
Or think it Savours of Mortality.
And for the Monsieur, I'll watch like his ill Genius;
A Politician should like Lightning melt
The very Marrow, and not taint the Skin.
Thus Policy must be flanck'd with Policy,
And Henry still be safe; if then meer Loyalty
Can me to Acts past Mortal daring move;
I'll combat like a God to aid my Love.

Tam.
Hark, Oh! Curst hour, my Lord's return'd.

[Noise within.
Mont.
Where are ye? Open the Door.

[Mountsurry within.
Bussy.
'Tis Montsurry's Voice; I'll stay and claim my Right
Before his Face.

Tam.
Oh! for my sake; Love, think not such a Thought;
Away, away, into the Vault; nay, instantly,
If you love me;—if any ill happens I'll
Write ye word.

Bussy.
Doe, and be sure of safety.

Pietro.
Come, come, let's be gone; Lord help us, what a
Stir's here!

[They descend the Vault. Tamira takes a Book in her hand.
Tam.
Come holy Cover of all humane frailty, lend—
Thy Assistance; Godliness now shine
In Hypocrites most Vice looks most Divine,
Whilst Crimes lie hid, to Heaven we nothing say;
But when we fear to be found out, we Pray.

Enter Montsurry, Monsieur, and Guise.
[Opens the Door.
Mont.
What! are ye Conjuring, ye are lock'd so close?

Tam.
The Monsieur here, and Guise; Oh! I am lost.
[aside.
I hope you'l allow time for Devotion.

Mont.
Devotion! the Visor of Hypocrisie.

Mons., Guis.
Ah, ah, ah, ah.

[Call Charlot Letter.
Tam.
Who look ye for, my Lord?

Mont.
Some kind Assistant, that perhaps might help
You in your Devotions.

Mons.
Heaven may be spoke with privately, without these
Locks and Barring up of Doors

Tam.
Oh! my dear Lord, do not Relapse agen
Into your bad Suspicions.

Mont.
Get ye gone, let me have none of your fawning;
Now, be gone, I say.

Tam.
I know my Duty, and am all Obedience.

[Exit.
Mont.
Oh! Modesty, where wilt thou shew thy Beauty,
If it be wanting in that lovely Look.

Guis.
Craft, Craft; my Lord all Craft.

Mons.
'Tis a Damn'd subtil Game, they are all skill'd at;
Their Looks are their Trump Cards, with which they win,
Of Fools, whate'r they Play for.
Enter Charlotte, with a Letter.
Here comes one
Will pull the Vizor off, and Clear your Eye-sight:
Now, dear Charlotte, hast thou stole out the Letter?

Charl.
I have don't, my Lord; but I vow, I half repent it;
I stole her Cabinet keys out, whilst she slept,
And found this Paper, but could hardly bring it,
So Conscious was I of my Treachery.

Mons.
Treachery! Fidelity by this Light, and shall be so rewarded;
Come prithee let's see't.

[takes the Letter.
Guis.
What! is't a Billet-deux?

Mons.
A Copy of the last, she sent her Minion.

Mont.
Can it be possible?

Mons.
There, my Lord—
There is a Glass of Ink, where you may see
How to make ready black Fac'd Tragedy;
That Scrowl displays her Heart, naked and bare,
And pulls the Veil off, that so long abus'd ye.

Mont.
Her own damn'd hand, I swear!

Charl.
I beseech your Lordship, let it be a Secret,

Mons.
Oh! Ay, a Secretes Secret, as thy Maiden-head,
Never fear it.

Charl.
And will your Highness be pleas'd to remember
The Knight?

Mons.
The Knight! why, he is just putting on his Spurs,
And coming Post; What! dost think I forget?

Charl.
Your Highness shall be always welcome to
Our house, and in what I can oblige your
Highness, I beseech ye command.

Mons.
Well, well; I am oblig'd to thee; but prithee leave
Us now a little, we have some private Business.

Guis.
Nothing remains, my Lord, but the strange means
[Exit Charl.
They have to meet, which to find out 'tis fit,
We bribe the old Governess.

Mont.
Oh! Crocodile, Hiana, monstrous Traitress!

Mons.
All Railing is but vain, do your self Justice
A better way; and since the close Conveyance,
And which way he got to her is unknown,
Force her to write my Lord a tender Letter,
To invite D'Ambois to a Midnight meeting.

Guise.
Do so, my Lord, cry first
To make her name her Bawdy Messenger,
That manages th'Affair, that subtle Pander,
That passes all our Study to find out;
Then let her write, and d'Ambois comes i'th'instant,
Within the thirsty reach of your Revenge:
I'th'interim lodge an Ambush in her Chamber,
Behind the Hangings, of your Stoutest Men,
All close and surely arm'd, and let 'em share
A Soul amongst 'em that will serve a Thousand.

Mont.
His Fate is cast, but what's his single Fate?
Methinks the Frame of the whole World should crack,
To see its parts so disproportionate:
But why Rove I far? here, here, was she,
That was a whole World without Spot to me:
Tho now a World of Spots, Oh! what a Flash
Is Mans Delight in Woman; what a Bubble
He builds his State, Peace, Life on when he Marries:
Since then Earths Pleasures are so short and small,
To be most Happy is t'abjure them all;
Detest a Joy so often proves our Shame,
And never trust False Woman with our Fame.

[Exeunt.