[Scæna Quarta
A Room in the Governor’s Castle at Cambrai.]
Enter Clermont, Maillard close following him.
Clermont. My Scotch horse to their armie—
Maillard. Please you, sir?
Cler. Sdeath! you’re passing diligent.
Mail. Of my soule,
Tis onely in my love to honour you
With what would grace the King: but since I see
You still sustaine a jealous eye on mee,5
Ile goe before.
Cler. Tis well; Ile come; my hand.
Mail. Your hand, sir! Come, your word; your choise be us’d. Exit.
Clermont solus.
Cler. I had an aversation to this voyage,
When first my brother mov’d it, and have found
That native power in me was never vaine;10
Yet now neglected it. I wonder much
At my inconstancie in these decrees
I every houre set downe to guide my life.
When Homer made Achilles passionate,
Wrathfull, revengefull, and insatiate15
In his affections, what man will denie
He did compose it all of industrie
To let men see that men of most renowne,
Strong’st, noblest, fairest, if they set not downe
Decrees within them, for disposing these,20
Of judgement, resolution, uprightnesse,
And certaine knowledge of their use and ends,
Mishap and miserie no lesse extends
To their destruction, with all that they pris’d,
Then to the poorest and the most despis’d?25
Enter Renel.
Renel. Why, how now, friend, retir’d! take heede you prove not
Dismaid with this strange fortune. All observe you:
Your government’s as much markt as the Kings.
What said a friend to Pompey?
Cler. What?
Ren. The people
Will never know, unlesse in death thou trie,30
That thou know’st how to beare adversitie.
Cler. I shall approve how vile I value feare
Of death at all times; but to be too rash,
Without both will and care to shunne the worst,
(It being in power to doe well and with cheere)35
Is stupid negligence and worse then feare.
Ren. Suppose this true now.
Cler. No, I cannot doo’t.
My sister truely said, there hung a taile
Of circumstance so blacke on that supposure,
That to sustaine it thus abhorr’d our mettall.40
And I can shunne it too, in spight of all,
Not going to field; and there to, being so mounted
As I will, since I goe.
Ren. You will then goe?
Cler. I am engag’d both in my word and hand.
But this is it that makes me thus retir’d,45
To call my selfe t’account, how this affaire
Is to be manag’d, if the worst should chance:
With which I note, how dangerous it is
For any man to prease beyond the place
To which his birth, or meanes, or knowledge ties him.50
For my part, though of noble birth, my birthright
Had little left it, and I know tis better
To live with little, and to keepe within
A mans owne strength still, and in mans true end,
Then runne a mixt course. Good and bad hold never55
Any thing common; you can never finde
Things outward care, but you neglect your minde.
God hath the whole world perfect made and free;
His parts to th’use of th’All. Men, then, that are
Parts of that All, must, as the generall sway60
Of that importeth, willingly obay
In every thing without their power to change.
Hee that, unpleas’d to hold his place, will range,
Can in no other be contain’d that’s fit,
And so resisting th’All is crusht with it:65
But he that knowing how divine a frame
The whole world is, and of it all can name
(Without selfe-flatterie) no part so divine
As hee himselfe; and therefore will confine
Freely his whole powers in his proper part,70
Goes on most God-like. Hee that strives t’invert
The Universals course with his poore way,
Not onely dust-like shivers with the sway,
But crossing God in his great worke, all earth
Beares not so cursed and so damn’d a birth.75
Ren. Goe on; Ile take no care what comes of you;
Heaven will not see it ill, how ere it show.
But the pretext to see these battailes rang’d
Is much your honour.
Cler. As the world esteemes it.
But to decide that, you make me remember80
An accident of high and noble note,
And fits the subject of my late discourse
Of holding on our free and proper way.
I over-tooke, comming from Italie,
In Germanie a great and famous Earle85
Of England, the most goodly fashion’d man
I ever saw; from head to foote in forme
Rare and most absolute; hee had a face
Like one of the most ancient honour’d Romanes
From whence his noblest familie was deriv’d;90
He was beside of spirit passing great,
Valiant, and learn’d, and liberall as the sunne,
Spoke and writ sweetly, or of learned subjects,
Or of the discipline of publike weales;
And t’was the Earle of Oxford: and being offer’d95
At that time, by Duke Cassimere, the view
Of his right royall armie then in field,
Refus’d it, and no foote was mov’d to stirre
Out of his owne free fore-determin’d course.
I, wondring at it, askt for it his reason,100
It being an offer so much for his honour.
Hee, all acknowledging, said t’was not fit
To take those honours that one cannot quit.
Ren. Twas answer’d like the man you have describ’d.
Cler. And yet he cast it onely in the way,105
To stay and serve the world. Nor did it fit
His owne true estimate how much it waigh’d;
For hee despis’d it, and esteem’d it freer
To keepe his owne way straight, and swore that hee
Had rather make away his whole estate110
In things that crost the vulgar then he would
Be frozen up stiffe (like a Sir John Smith,
His countrey-man) in common Nobles fashions;
Affecting, as’t the end of noblesse were,
Those servile observations.
Ren. It was strange. 115
Cler. O tis a vexing sight to see a man,
Out of his way, stalke proud as hee were in;
Out of his way, to be officious,
Observant, wary, serious, and grave,
Fearefull, and passionate, insulting, raging,120
Labour with iron flailes to thresh downe feathers
Flitting in ayre.
Ren. What one considers this,
Of all that are thus out? or once endevours,
Erring, to enter on mans right-hand path?
Cler. These are too grave for brave wits; give them toyes;125
Labour bestow’d on these is harsh and thriftlesse.
If you would Consull be (sayes one) of Rome,
You must be watching, starting out of sleepes;
Every way whisking; gloryfying Plebeians;
Kissing Patricians hands, rot at their dores;130
Speake and doe basely; every day bestow
Gifts and observance upon one or other:
And what’s th’event of all? Twelve rods before thee;
Three or foure times sit for the whole tribunall;
Exhibite Circean games; make publike feasts;135
And for these idle outward things (sayes he)
Would’st thou lay on such cost, toile, spend thy spirits?
And to be voide of perturbation,
For constancie, sleepe when thou would’st have sleepe,
Wake when thou would’st wake, feare nought, vexe for nought,140
No paines wilt thou bestow? no cost? no thought?
Ren. What should I say? As good consort with you
As with an angell; I could heare you ever.
Cler. Well, in, my lord, and spend time with my sister,
And keepe her from the field with all endeavour.145
The souldiers love her so, and shee so madly
Would take my apprehension, if it chance,
That bloud would flow in rivers.
Ren. Heaven forbid!
And all with honour your arrivall speede! Exit.
Enter Messenger with two Souldiers like Lackies.
Messenger. Here are two lackies, sir, have message to you.150
Cler. What is your message? and from whom, my friends?
1[st Soldier.] From the Lieutenant, Colonell, and the Captaines,
Who sent us to informe you that the battailes
Stand ready rang’d, expecting but your presence
To be their honor’d signall when to joyne,155
And we are charg’d to runne by, and attend you.
Cler. I come. I pray you see my running horse
Brought to the backe-gate to mee.
Mess. Instantly. Exit Mess[enger].
Cler. Chance what can chance mee, well or ill is equall
In my acceptance, since I joy in neyther,160
But goe with sway of all the world together.
In all successes Fortune and the day
To mee alike are; I am fixt, be shee
Never so fickle; and will there repose,
Farre past the reach of any dye she throwes. Ex[it] cum Pediss[equis]. 165
Finis Actus tertii.
Linenotes
Notes
114 as’t. Emended by ed.; Q, as.