Part 62

Char. And all his notice, too, without all truth.

Cler. So I conceive it, sister: ile not wrong 90 My well knowne brother for Anonymos.

Char. Some foole hath put this tricke on you, yet more T'uncover your defect of spirit and valour, First showne in lingring my deare brothers wreake. See what it is to give the envious world 95 Advantage to diminish eminent virtue. Send him a challenge. Take a noble course To wreake a murther, done so like a villaine.

Cler. Shall we revenge a villanie with villanie.

Char. Is it not equall?

Cler. Shall wee equall be with villaines? 100 Is that your reason?

Char. Cowardise evermore Flyes to the shield of reason.

Cler. Nought that is Approv'd by reason can be cowardise.

Char. Dispute, when you should fight! Wrong, wreaklesse sleeping, Makes men dye honorlesse; one borne, another 105 Leapes on our shoulders.

Cler. Wee must wreake our wrongs So as wee take not more.

Char. One wreakt in time Prevents all other. Then shines vertue most When time is found for facts; and found, not lost.

Cler. No time occurres to Kings, much lesse to vertue; 110 Nor can we call it vertue that proceedes From vicious fury. I repent that ever (By any instigation in th'appearance My brothers spirit made, as I imagin'd) That e'er I yeelded to revenge his murther. 115 All worthy men should ever bring their bloud To beare all ill, not to be wreakt with good. Doe ill for no ill; never private cause Should take on it the part of publike lawes.

Char. A D'Ambois beare in wrong so tame a spirit! 120

Ren. Madame, be sure there will be time enough For all the vengeance your great spirit can wish. The course yet taken is allow'd by all, Which being noble, and refus'd by th'Earle, Now makes him worthy of your worst advantage: 125 And I have cast a project with the Countesse To watch a time when all his wariest guards Shall not exempt him. Therefore give him breath; Sure death delaid is a redoubled death.

Cler. Good sister, trouble not your selfe with this: 130 Take other ladyes care; practise your face. There's the chaste matron, Madame Perigot, Dwels not farre hence; Ile ride and send her to you. Shee did live by retailing mayden-heads In her minoritie; but now shee deales 135 In whole-sale altogether for the Court. I tell you, shee's the onely fashion-monger, For your complexion, poudring of your haire, Shadowes, rebatoes, wires, tyres, and such trickes, That Cambray or, I thinke, the Court affords. 140 She shall attend you, sister, and with these Womanly practises emply your spirit; This other suites you not, nor fits the fashion. Though shee be deare, lay't on, spare for no cost; Ladies in these have all their bounties lost. 145

Ren. Madame, you see, his spirit will not checke At any single danger, when it stands Thus merrily firme against an host of men, Threaten'd to be armes for his surprise.

Char. That's a meere bugge-beare, an impossible mocke. 150 If hee, and him I bound by nuptiall faith, Had not beene dull and drossie in performing Wreake of the deare bloud of my matchlesse brother, What Prince, what King, which of the desperat'st ruffings, Outlawes in Arden, durst have tempted thus 155 One of our bloud and name, be't true or false?

Cler. This is not caus'd by that; twill be as sure As yet it is not, though this should be true.

Char. True, tis past thought false.

Cler. I suppose the worst, Which farre I am from thinking; and despise 160 The armie now in battaile that should act it.

Cler. Sweet sister, (osculatur) farre be both off as the fact Of my fain'd apprehension.

Char. I would once 165 Strip off my shame with my attire, and trie If a poore woman, votist of revenge, Would not performe it with a president To all you bungling, foggy-spirited men. But for our birth-rights honour, doe not mention 170 One syllable of any word may goe To the begetting of an act so tender And full of sulphure as this letters truth: It comprehends so blacke a circumstance Not to be nam'd, that but to forme one thought, 175 It is or can be so, would make me mad. Come, my lord, you and I will fight this dreame Out at the chesse.

Ren. Most gladly, worthiest ladie. Exeunt Char[lotte] and Ren.

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger. Sir, my Lord Governours Lieutenant prayes Accesse to you.

Cler. Himselfe alone?

Mess. Alone, sir. 180

Cler. Attend him in. (Exit Messenger.) Now comes this plot to tryall; I shall descerne (if it be true as rare) Some sparkes will flye from his dissembling eyes. Ile sound his depth.