from her highest and most bloudy humors.
I feare him strangely; his advanced valour
Is like a spirit rais'd without a circle,
Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him,
And for whose fury he hath learnt no limit. 385

_Enter Maffe hastily._

_Maf._ I cannot help it; what should I do more?
As I was gathering a fit guard to make
My passage to the dores, and the dores sure,
The man of bloud is enter'd.

_Mons._ Rage of death!
If I had told the secret, and he knew it, 390
Thus had I bin endanger'd.

_Enter D'Ambois._

My sweet heart!
How now? what leap'st thou at?

_Bussy._ O royall object!

_Mons._ Thou dream'st awake: object in th'empty aire!

_Buss._ Worthy the browes of Titan, worth his chaire.

_Mons._ Pray thee, what mean'st thou?

_Buss._ See you not a crowne 395
Empalethe forehead of the great King Monsieur?

_Mons._ O, fie upon thee!

_Buss._ Prince, that is the subject
Of all these your retir'd and sole discourses.

_Mons._ Wilt thou not leave that wrongfull supposition?

_Buss._ Why wrongfull to suppose the doubtlesse right 400
To the succession worth the thinking on?

_Mons._ Well, leave these jests! how I am over-joyed
With thy wish'd presence, and how fit thou com'st,
For, of mine honour, I was sending for thee.

_Buss._ To what end?

_Mons._ Onely for thy company, 405
Which I have still in thought; but that's no payment
On thy part made with personall appearance.
Thy absence so long suffered oftentimes
Put me in some little doubt thou do'st not love me.
Wilt thou doe one thing therefore now sincerely? 410

_Buss._ I, any thing--but killing of the King.

_Mons._ Still in that discord, and ill taken note?
How most unseasonable thou playest the cucko,
In this thy fall of friendship!

_Buss._ Then doe not doubt
That there is any act within my nerves, 415
But killing of the King, that is not yours.

_Mons._ I will not then; to prove which, by my love
Shewne to thy vertues, and by all fruits else
Already sprung from that still flourishing tree,
With whatsoever may hereafter spring,