_Cler._ Some informer, Bloud-hound to mischiefe, usher to the hang-man, 95 Thirstie of honour for some huge state act, Perceiving me great with the worthy Guise, And he (I know not why) held dangerous, Made me the desperate organe of his danger, Onely with that poore colour: tis the common 100 And more then whore-like tricke of treacherie And vermine bred to rapine and to ruine, For which this fault is still to be accus'd; Since good acts faile, crafts and deceits are us'd. If it be other, never pittie mee. 105 _Aum._ Sir, we are glad, beleeve it, and have hope The King will so conceit it. _Cler._ At his pleasure. In meane time, what's your will, Lord Lieutenant? _Mail._ To leave your owne horse, and to mount the trumpets. _Cler._ It shall be done. This heavily prevents 110 My purpos'd recreation in these parts; Which now I thinke on, let mee begge you, sir, To lend me some one captaine of your troopes, To beare the message of my haplesse service And miserie to my most noble mistresse, 115 Countesse of Cambray; to whose house this night I promist my repaire, and know most truely, With all the ceremonies of her favour, She sure expects mee. _Mail._ Thinke you now on that? _Cler._ On that, sir? I, and that so worthily, 120 That if the King, in spight of your great service, Would send me instant promise of enlargement, Condition I would set this message by, I would not take it, but had rather die. _Aum._ Your message shall be done, sir: I, my selfe, 125 Will be for you a messenger of ill. _Cler._ I thanke you, sir, and doubt not yet to live To quite your kindnesse. _Aum._ Meane space use your spirit And knowledge for the chearfull patience Of this so strange and sodaine consequence. 130