her vertue and her greatnesse one, Or make the t'one the greater with the t'other, (As true Kings should) and for your brothers love (Which is a speciall species of true vertue) Doe that you could not doe, not being a King. 

_Henr._ Brother, I know your suit; these wilfull murthers Are ever past our pardon. 

_Mons._ Manly slaughter Should never beare th'account of wilfull murther, It being a spice of justice, where with life Offending past law equall life is laid In equall ballance, to scourge that offence By law of reputation, which to men Exceeds all positive law; and what that leaves To true mens valours (not prefixing rights Of satisfaction suited to their wrongs) A free mans eminence may supply and take. 

_Henr._ This would make every man that thinks him wrong'd, Lay on this violence; and all vaunt themselves Law-menders and supplyers, though meere butchers, Should this fact, though of justice, be forgiven. 

_Mons._ O no, my Lord! it would make cowards feare To touch the reputations of true men. When only they are left to impe the law, Justice will soone distinguish murtherous minds From just revengers. Had my friend beene slaine, His enemy surviving, he should die, Since he had added to a murther'd fame (Which was in his intent) a murthered man; And this had worthily beene wilfull murther; But my friend only sav'd his fames deare life, Which is above life, taking th'under value Which in the wrong it did was forfeit to him; And in this fact only preserves a man In his uprightnesse, worthy to survive Millions of such as murther men alive. 

_Henr._ Well, brother, rise, and raise your friend withall From death to life: and, D'Ambois, let your life (Refin'd by passing through this merited death) Be purg'd from more such foule pollution; Nor on your scape, nor valour, more presuming To be again so violent. 

_Buss._ My Lord, I lothe as much a deed of unjust death, As law it selfe doth; and to tyrannise, Because I have a little spirit to dare, And power to doe, as to be tyranniz'd. This is a grace that (on my knees redoubled) I crave, to double this my short lifes gift, And shall your royal bountie centuple, That I may so make good what Law and Nature Have given me for my good: since I am free, (Offending no just law) let no law make, By any wrong it does, my life her slave: When I am wrong'd, and that Law failes to right me, Let me be King my selfe (as man was made) And doe a justice that exceeds the Law: If my wrong passe the power of single valour To right and expiate, then be you my King, And 

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