[Bussy.] Fortune, not Reason, rules the state of things,

Reward goes backwards, Honor on his head,

Who is not poore is monstrous; only Need

Gives forme and worth to every humane seed.

As cedars beaten with continuall stormes,5

So great men flourish; and doe imitate

Unskilfull statuaries, who suppose

(In forming a Colossus) if they make him

Stroddle enough, stroot, and look bigg, and gape,

Their work is goodly: so men meerely great10

In their affected gravity of voice,

[Monsieur.] There is no second place in numerous state

That holds more than a cypher: in a King35

All places are contain'd. His words and looks

Are like the flashes and the bolts of Jove;

His deeds inimitable, like the sea

That shuts still as it opes, and leaves no tracts,

Nor prints of president for meane mens facts:40

There's but a thred betwixt me and a crowne;

I would not wish it cut, unlesse by nature;

Yet to prepare me for that possible fortune,

'Tis good to get resolved spirits about mee.

I follow'd D'Ambois to this greene retreat;45

A man of spirit beyond the reach of feare,

Who (discontent with his neglected worth)

Neglects the light, and loves obscure abodes;

But hee is young and haughty, apt to take

Fire at advancement, to beare state, and flourish;50

In his rise therefore shall my bounties shine:

None lothes the world so much, nor loves to scoffe it,

But gold and grace will make him surfet of it.

What, D'Ambois!—

Buss.He, sir.

Mons.Turn'd to earth, alive!

Up man, the sunne shines on thee.

Mons. Callest thou men great in state, motes in the sunne?

They say so that would have thee freeze in shades,

That (like the grosse Sicilian gurmundist)

Empty their noses in the cates they love,60

That none may eat but they. Do thou but bring

Light to the banquet Fortune sets before thee

And thou wilt loath leane darknesse like thy death.

Who would beleeve thy mettall could let sloth

Rust and consume it? If Themistocles65

Had liv'd obscur'd thus in th'Athenian State,

Xerxes had made both him and it his slaves.

If brave Camillus had lurckt so in Rome,

He had not five times beene Dictator there,

Nor foure times triumpht. If Epaminondas70

(Who liv'd twice twenty yeeres obscur'd in Thebs)

Had liv'd so still, he had beene still unnam'd,

And paid his country nor himselfe their right:

But putting forth his strength he rescu'd both

From imminent ruine; and, like burnisht steele,75

After long use he shin'd; for as the light

Not only serves to shew, but render us

Buss. What would you wish me?

Mons.Leave the troubled streames,

And live where thrivers doe, at the well head.

Buss. At the well head? Alas! what should I doe

With that enchanted glasse? See devils there?85

Or (like a strumpet) learne to set my looks

In an eternall brake, or practise jugling,

To keep my face still fast, my heart still loose;

Or beare (like dames schoolmistresses their riddles)

Two tongues, and be good only for a shift;90

Flatter great lords, to put them still in minde

Why they were made lords; or please humorous ladies

With a good carriage, tell them idle tales,

To make their physick work; spend a man's life

In sights and visitations, that will make95

His eyes as hollow as his mistresse heart:

To doe none good, but those that have no need;

To gaine being forward, though you break for haste

Mons.No, thou needst not learne;

Thou hast the theorie; now goe there and practise.105

Buss. I, in a thrid-bare suit; when men come there,

They must have high naps, and goe from thence bare:

A man may drowne the parts of ten rich men

In one poore suit; brave barks, and outward glosse

Attract Court loves, be in parts ne're so grosse.110

Mons. Thou shalt have glosse enough, and all things fit

T'enchase in all shew thy long smothered spirit:

Be rul'd by me then. The old Scythians

Painted blinde Fortunes powerfull hands with wings,

Stay but a while here, and I'le send to thee.

Buss. What will he send? some crowns? It is to sow them

Upon my spirit, and make them spring a crowne120

Worth millions of the seed crownes he will send.

Like to disparking noble husbandmen,

Hee'll put his plow into me, plow me up;

But his unsweating thrift is policie,

And learning-hating policie is ignorant125

To fit his seed-land soyl; a smooth plain ground

Will never nourish any politick seed.

I am for honest actions, not for great:

If I may bring up a new fashion,

And rise in Court for vertue, speed his plow!130

The King hath knowne me long as well as hee,

Yet could my fortune never fit the length

Of both their understandings till this houre.

There is a deepe nicke in Times restlesse wheele

[Maffe.] Humor of Princes! Is this wretch indu'd

With any merit worth a thousand crownes?145

Will my lord have me be so ill a steward

Of his revenue, to dispose a summe

So great, with so small cause as shewes in him?

I must examine this. Is your name D'Ambois?

Buss. Sir?

Maff. Is your name D'Ambois?

Buss. Who have we here?150

Serve you the Monsieur?

Maff. How?

Buss. Serve you the Monsieur?

Maff. Sir, y'are very hot. I doe serve the Monsieur;

Buss. Crie you mercy!

Now you have opened my dull eies, I see you,

And would be glad to see the good you speake of:

What might I call your name?

Maff. Monsieur Maffe.160

Buss. Monsieur Maffe? Then, good Monsieur Maffe,

Pray let me know you better.

Maff. Pray doe so,

That you may use me better. For your selfe,

By your no better outside, I would judge you

To be some poet. Have you given my lord165

Some pamphlet?

Buss. Pamphlet!

Maff. Pamphlet, sir, I say.

Maff. Though he did not, sir,

I hope 'tis no rude office to aske reason170

How that his Grace gives me in charge, goes from me?

Buss. That's very perfect, sir.

Maff. Why, very good, sir;

I pray, then, give me leave. If for no pamphlet,

May I not know what other merit in you

Makes his compunction willing to relieve you?175

Buss. No merit in the world, sir.

Maff. That is strange.

Y'are a poore souldier, are you?

Buss. That I am, sir.

Maff. And have commanded?

Buss. I, and gone without, sir.

Maff. I see the man: a hundred crownes will make him

Swagger, and drinke healths to his Graces bountie,180

And sweare he could not be more bountifull;

So there's nine hundred crounes sav'd. Here, tall souldier,

Buss. A hundred, sir! Nay, doe his Highnesse right;

I know his hand is larger, and perhaps185

I may deserve more than my outside shewes.

I am a poet as I am a souldier,

And I can poetise; and (being well encourag'd)

May sing his fame for giving; yours for delivering

(Like a most faithfull steward) what he gives.190

Maff. What shall your subject be?

Buss. I care not much

If to his bounteous Grace I sing the praise

Of faire great noses, and to you of long ones.

What qualities have you, sir, (beside your chaine

And velvet jacket)? Can your Worship dance?195

Maff. A pleasant fellow, faith; it seemes my lord

Will have him for his jester; and, berlady,

Such men are now no fooles; 'tis a knights place.

If I (to save his Grace some crounes) should urge him

Buss. How, Ambo, Sir?

Maff. I, is not your name Ambo?

Buss. You call'd me lately D'Amboys; has your Worship

So short a head?

Maff. I cry thee mercy, D'Amboys.210

A thousand crownes I bring you from my lord;

If you be thriftie, and play the good husband, you may make

This a good standing living; 'tis a bountie,

His Highnesse might perhaps have bestow'd better.

Buss. Goe, y'are a rascall; hence, away, you rogue! [Strikes him.]215

Maff. What meane you, sir?

Buss. Hence! prate no more!

Or, by thy villans bloud, thou prat'st thy last!

Maff. These crownes are set in bloud; bloud be their fruit! Exit.