_Jul._ Curs'd be she, That's so indulgent to her own delights, That for their satisfaction, would give A stop to such a glorious enterprize: For me, I would not for the world, I had been Guilty of such a crime; go on and prosper. Go on my dearest Lord, I love your Honor Above my life; nay, yours; my prayers go with you; Which I will strengthen with my tears: the wrongs Of this poor Countrey, edge your sword; Oh may it Pierce deep into this Tyrants heart, and then When you return bath'd in his guilty blood; I'll wash you clean with fountains of true joy. But who are your assistants? though I am So covetous of your glory, that I could wish You had no sharer in it. [_Knock._ _Vir._ Be not curious. They come, however you command my bosom, To them I would not have you seen. _Jul._ I am gone Sir, Be confident; and may my resolution Be present with you. [_Exit._ _Vir._ Such a Masculine spirit, With more than Womans virtues, were a Dower To weigh down a Kings fortune. _Enter_ Brissonet, Camillo, Ronvere. _Briss._ Good day to you. _Cam._ You are an early stirrer. _Vir._ What new face, Bring you along? _Ron._ If I stand doubted Sir? As by your looks I guess it: you much injure A man that loves, and truly loves this Countrey, With as much zeal as you doe; one that hates The Prince by whom it suffers, and as deadly; One that dares step as far to gain my freedom, As any he that breaths; that wears a sword As sharp as any's. _Cam._ Nay, no more comparisons. _Ron._ What you but whisper, I dare speak aloud, Stood the King by; have means to put in act too What you but coldly plot; if this deserve then Suspition in the best, the boldest, wisest? Pursue your own intents, I'll follow mine; And if I not out-strip you-- _Briss._ Be assur'd Sir, A conscience like this can never be ally'd To treachery. _Cam._ Who durst speak so much, But one that is like us, a sufferer, And stands as we affected? _Vir._ You are cozen'd And all undone; every Intelligencer Speaks Treason with like licence; is not this _Ronvere_, that hath for many years been train'd In _Ferrand_'s School, a man in trust and favour, Rewarded too, and highly? _Cam._ Grant all this, The thought of what he was, being as he is now; A man disgrac'd, and with contempt thrown off; Will spurr him to revenge, as swift as they, That never were in favour. _Vir._ Poor and childish. _Briss._ His regiment is cast, that is most certain; And his command in the Castle given away. _Cam._ That on my knowledge.