[Scæna Quarta
An Ante-room to the Council-Chamber.]
Enter Guise.
Guise. Who sayes that death is naturall, when nature
Is with the onely thought of it dismaid?
I have had lotteries set up for my death,
And I have drawne beneath my trencher one,
Knit in my hand-kerchiefe another lot,5
The word being, “Y’are a dead man if you enter”;
And these words this imperfect bloud and flesh
Shrincke at in spight of me, their solidst part
Melting like snow within mee with colde fire.
I hate my selfe, that, seeking to rule Kings,10
I cannot curbe my slave. Would any spirit
Free, manly, princely, wish to live to be
Commanded by this masse of slaverie,
Since reason, judgement, resolution,
And scorne of what we feare, will yeeld to feare?15
While this same sincke of sensualitie swels,
Who would live sinking in it? and not spring
Up to the starres, and leave this carrion here,
For wolfes, and vultures, and for dogges to teare?
O Clermont D’Ambois, wert thou here to chide20
This softnesse from my flesh, farre as my reason,
Farre as my resolution not to stirre
One foote out of the way for death and hell!
Let my false man by falshood perish here;
There’s no way else to set my true man cleere.25
Enter Messenger.
Messenger. The King desires your Grace to come to Councill.
Gui. I come. It cannot be; hee will not dare
To touch me with a treacherie so prophane.
Would Clermont now were here, to try how hee
Would lay about him, if this plot should be:30
Here would be tossing soules into the skie.
Who ever knew bloud sav’d by treacherie?
Well, I must on, and will; what should I feare?
Not against two, Alcides; against two,
And Hercules to friend, the Guise will goe.35
He takes up the Arras, and the Guard enters upon him: hee drawes.
Gui. Holde, murtherers! They strike him downe.
So then, this is confidence
In greatnes, not in goodnes. Wher is the King?
The King comes in sight with Es[pernone], Sois[son], & others.
Let him appeare to justifie his deede,
In spight of my betrai’d wounds; ere my soule
Take her flight through them, and my tongue hath strength40
To urge his tyrannie.
Henry. See, sir, I am come
To justifie it before men and God,
Who knowes with what wounds in my heart for woe
Of your so wounded faith I made these wounds,
Forc’t to it by an insolence of force45
To stirre a stone; nor is a rocke, oppos’d
To all the billowes of the churlish sea,
More beate and eaten with them then was I
With your ambitious, mad idolatrie;
And this bloud I shed is to save the bloud50
Of many thousands.
Gui. That’s your white pretext;
But you will finde one drop of bloud shed lawlesse
Will be the fountaine to a purple sea.
The present lust and shift made for Kings lives,
Against the pure forme and just power of law,55
Will thrive like shifters purchases; there hangs
A blacke starre in the skies, to which the sunne
Gives yet no light, will raine a poyson’d shower
Into your entrailes, that will make you feele
How little safetie lies in treacherous steele.60
Hen. Well, sir, Ile beare it; y’have a brother to
Bursts with like threates, the skarlet Cardinall—
Seeke, and lay hands on him; and take this hence,
Their blouds, for all you, on my conscience! Exit.
Gui. So, sir, your full swindge take; mine death hath curb’d.65
Clermont, farewell! O didst thou see but this!
But it is better; see by this the ice
Broke to thine owne bloud, which thou wilt despise
When thou hear’st mine shed. Is there no friend here
Will beare my love to him?
Aumale. I will, my lord. 70
Gui. Thankes with my last breath: recommend me, then,
To the most worthy of the race of men. Dyes. Exeunt.