  A Room at the Court in Paris.] Enter Henry, Guise, Baligny, Esp[ernone], Soisson. Pericot with pen, incke, and paper. Guise. Now, sir, I hope you're much abus'd eyes see In my word for my Clermont, what a villaine Hee was that whisper'd in your jealous eare His owne blacke treason in suggesting Clermonts, Colour'd with nothing but being great with mee.5 Signe then this writ for his deliverie; Your hand was never urg'd with worthier boldnesse: Come, pray, sir, signe it. Why should Kings be praid To acts of justice? tis a reverence Makes them despis'd, and showes they sticke and tyre In what their free powers should be hot as fire. Henry. Well, take your will, sir;—Ile have mine ere long.— Aversus. But wherein is this Clermont such a rare one? Gui. In his most gentle and unwearied minde, Rightly to vertue fram'd in very nature;15 In his most firme inexorable spirit To be remov'd from any thing hee chuseth For worthinesse; or beare the lest perswasion To what is base, or fitteth not his object; In his contempt of riches, and of greatnesse20 In estimation of th'idolatrous vulgar; His scorne of all things servile and ignoble, Though they could gaine him never such advancement; His liberall kinde of speaking what is truth, In spight of temporising; the great rising25 And learning of his soule so much the more Against ill fortune, as shee set her selfe Sharpe against him or would present most hard, To shunne the malice of her deadliest charge; His detestation of his speciall friends,30 When he perceiv'd their tyrannous will to doe, Or their abjection basely to sustaine Any injustice that they could revenge; The flexibilitie of his most anger, Even in the maine careere and fury of it,35 When any object of desertfull pittie Offers it selfe to him; his sweet disposure, As much abhorring to behold as doe Any unnaturall and bloudy action; His just contempt of jesters, parasites, Servile observers, and polluted tongues— In short, this Senecall man is found in him, Hee may with heavens immortall powers compare, To whom the day and fortune equall are; Come faire or foule, whatever chance can fall,45 Fixt in himselfe, hee still is one to all. Hen. Showes he to others thus? Omnes. To all that know him. Hen. And apprehend I this man for a traitor? Gui. These are your Machevilian villaines, Your bastard Teucers, that, their mischiefes done, Runne to your shield for shelter; Cacusses That cut their too large murtherous theveries To their dens length still. Woe be to that state Where treacherie guards, and ruine makes men great! Hen. Goe, take my letters for him, and release him. Om. Thankes to your Highnesse; ever live your Highnesse! Exeunt. Baligny. Better a man were buried quicke then live A propertie for state and spoile to thrive. Exit. LINENOTES: |
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