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.