CLINTON

The King will lend no ear To any just complaint that's made of him; What can our andals do then? How do you relish this? His virtue and his bounty won him grace, On that we'll built to ruin all his favours, And work him to disgrace. First, praise him to the King, give all his virtues Double their endue, add unto every thing, Ey, and Hyperb lize in all his deeds: Let his known virtues be the common Theme Of our discourse to stale him, rate his worth, To equalise, if not to exceed the King: This cannot but beget distaste at least. Thus; then fallen off from his praise, And question his best deeds, as it may be His noble bounty is but popular grace, And his humility but inward pride: His vulgar age and applause abroad, A way to climb and seat himself aloft, You understand me? Your horse my Lord, is not in state to ride, He wants two shoes before. Does he not strive In all things to exceed your courtesy, Of purpose to outshine your Royal deeds, And daze I your brightness, that himself may shine? Is he not only popular my Liege? Is not the peoples suffrage sole to him, While they neglect your fame, his train does equal, If not exceed yours, still his Chamber thronged With store of suitors: where the Martial lies, There is the Court, all eyes are bent on him, And on his glories; there's no Theme abroad, But how he saved you from the Pagans sword, How his sole hand sways, guides, and guards the Realm. For all the favours, graces, honours, loves Bestowed upon him from your bounteous hand, His cunning was to think to quit you all, And pay you with a horseshoe. I have seen that face. And does not mine so too? Pray w at's your business? This fellow offends me. O my Lord you are welcome, we have not had your company amongst us long. One of more state or shape where shall we find? Were she not the Martials daughter, I'ld term her worthy for my Sovereigns Bride. I am glad to see you Sir. Lord God you were so changed. Were my censure free, I durst say bettered. Our wits must then to work. Therefore devise some plot His favour to prevent. And why so sad my Lord? The Marriages indeed are celebrated. What, no prevention? What not at rest my Lord? Find you no project yet how to remove him? It grows towards day. Watch advantage, And as you find the humour of the King, Work it unto the Martialls deep disgrace: But soft the Prince. Shall we command A Bar, and call a Jury of his Peers, Whilst Chester, that enjoys the place of Martial, Objects such Allegations against his life, As he hath drawn out of his rude demeanour? To tax you more succinctly, you have first Abused the King in sending to the Court Your daughter less fair, and the least beloved. These graces are beyond dimension, They have nor height, nor depth, uncircumscribed, And without bounds. He Like abroad armed tree Overshadows us, and throw his spacious bows, We that grow under cannot see the Sun, Nor taste the cheerful warmth of his bright beams. These branches we must lop by fire or Thunder, Or by his shadowy a mes be still kept under. Of Treason? say he crave the combat then, For that's the least he can; which of us two Shall combat him? I know his blows too well, Not I. They wager love. Now it begins. When in one batt isle you were twice unhorsed, Girt with the opposite ranks of Infidels, That had not timely res e come from Heaven, Mortal assistance had been used in vain.