Is the Guise onely great in faction?
Stands he not by himselfe? Proves he th'opinion
That mens soules are without them? Be a duke,
And lead me to the field.
_Guis._ Come, follow me.
_Henr._ Stay them! stay, D'Ambois! Cosen Guise, I wonder
Your honour'd disposition brooks so ill
A man so good that only would uphold
Man in his native noblesse, from whose fall
All our dissentions rise; that in himselfe
(Without the outward patches of our frailty,
Riches and honour) knowes he comprehends
Worth with the greatest. Kings had never borne
Such boundlesse empire over other men,
Had all maintain'd the spirit and state of D'Ambois;
Nor had the full impartiall hand of Nature,
That all things gave in her originall
Without these definite terms of Mine and Thine,
Beene turn'd unjustly to the hand of Fortune,
Had all preserv'd her in her prime like D'Ambois;
No envie, no disjunction had dissolv'd,
Or pluck'd one stick out of the golden faggot
In which the world of Saturne bound our lifes,
Had all beene held together with the nerves,
The genius, and th'ingenious soule of D'Ambois.
Let my hand therefore be the Hermean rod
To part and reconcile, and so conserve you,
As my combin'd embracers and supporters.
_Buss._ Tis our Kings motion, and we shall not seeme
To worst eies womanish, though we change thus soone
Never so great grudge for his greater pleasure.
_Gui._ I seale to that, and so the manly freedome,
That you so much professe, hereafter prove not
A bold and glorious licence to deprave,
To me his hand shall hold the Hermean vertue
His grace affects, in which submissive signe
On this his sacred right hand I lay mine.
_Buss._ Tis well, my lord, and so your worthy greatnesse
Decline not to the greater insolence,
Nor make you think it a prerogative

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