_Aum._ Tis strange a man that had, through his life past, So sure a foote in vertue and true knowledge 25 As Clermont D'Ambois, should be now found tripping, And taken up thus, so to make his fall More steepe and head-long.
_Mail._ It is Vertues fortune, To keepe her low, and in her proper place; Height hath no roome for her. But as a man 30 That hath a fruitfull wife, and every yeere A childe by her, hath every yeere a month To breathe himselfe, where hee that gets no childe Hath not a nights rest (if he will doe well); So, let one marry this same barraine Vertue, 35 She never lets him rest, where fruitfull Vice Spares her rich drudge, gives him in labour breath, Feedes him with bane, and makes him fat with death.
_Chal._ I see that good lives never can secure Men from bad livers. Worst men will have best 40 As ill as they, or heaven to hell they'll wrest.
_Aum._ There was a merit for this, in the fault That Bussy made, for which he (doing pennance) Proves that these foule adulterous guilts will runne Through the whole bloud, which not the cleare can shunne. 45
_Mail._ Ile therefore take heede of the bastarding Whole innocent races; tis a fearefull thing. And as I am true batcheler, I sweare, To touch no woman (to the coupling ends) Unlesse it be mine owne wife or my friends; 50 I may make bold with him.
_Aum._ Tis safe and common. The more your friend dares trust, the more deceive him. And as through dewie vapors the sunnes forme Makes the gay rainebow girdle to a storme, So in hearts hollow, friendship (even the sunne 55 To all good growing in societie) Makes his so glorious and divine name hold Collours for all the ill that can be told. _Trumpets within._
_Mail._ Harke! our last troopes are come.
_Chal._ (_Drums beate._) Harke! our last foote.
_Mail._ Come, let us put all quickly into battaile, 60 And send for Clermont, in whose honour all This martiall preparation wee pretend.
_Chal._ Wee must bethinke us, ere wee apprehend him, (Besides our maine strength) of some stratageme To make good our severe command on him, 65 As well to save blood as to make him sure: For if hee come on his Scotch horse, all France Put at the heeles of him will faile to take him.
_Mail._ What thinke you if wee should disguise a brace Of our best souldiers in faire lackies coates, 70 And send them for him, running by his side, Till they have brought him in some ambuscado We close may lodge for him, and sodainely Lay sure hand on him, plucking him from horse?