_Mons._ Contempt of these Does he read to the Guise? Tis passing needfull, And hee, I thinke, makes show t'affect his doctrine. 160 _Ep._ Commends, admires it-- _Mons._ And pursues another. Tis fine hypocrisie, and cheape, and vulgar, Knowne for a covert practise, yet beleev'd By those abus'd soules that they teach and governe No more then wives adulteries by their husbands, 165 They bearing it with so unmov'd aspects, Hot comming from it, as twere not [at] all, Or made by custome nothing. This same D'Ambois Hath gotten such opinion of his vertues, Holding all learning but an art to live well, 170 And showing hee hath learn'd it in his life, Being thereby strong in his perswading others, That this ambitious Guise, embracing him, Is thought t'embrace his vertues. _Ep._ Yet in some His vertues are held false for th'others vices: 175 For tis more cunning held, and much more common, To suspect truth then falshood: and of both Truth still fares worse, as hardly being beleev'd, As tis unusuall and rarely knowne. _Mons._ Ile part engendring vertue. Men affirme, 180 Though this same Clermont hath a D'Ambois spirit, And breathes his brothers valour, yet his temper Is so much past his that you cannot move him: Ile try that temper in him.--Come, you two Devoure each other with your vertues zeale, 185 And leave for other friends no fragment of yee: I wonder, Guise, you will thus ravish him Out of my bosome, that first gave the life His manhood breathes spirit, and meanes, and luster. What doe men thinke of me, I pray thee, Clermont? 190 Once give me leave (for tryall of that love That from thy brother Bussy thou inherit'st) T'unclaspe thy bosome. _Clermont._ As how, sir? _Mons._ Be a true glasse to mee, in which I may Behold what thoughts the many-headed beast 195 And thou thy selfe breathes out concerning me, My ends and new upstarted state in Brabant, For which I now am bound, my higher aymes Imagin'd here in France: speake, man, and let Thy words be borne as naked as thy thoughts. 200 O were brave Bussy living! _Cler._ Living, my lord! _Mons._ Tis true thou art his brother, but durst thou Have brav'd the Guise; mauger his presence, courted His wedded lady; emptied even the dregs Of his worst thoughts of mee even to my teeth; 205 Discern'd not me, his rising soveraigne, From any common groome, but let me heare My grossest faults, as grosse-full as they were? Durst thou doe this?