have been attempted which are distinguished by "emend. ed." in the
footnotes. In these cases the reading of the quartos, if unanimous, is
denoted by "Qq."
In the quartos the play is simply divided into five Acts. These I have
subdivided into Scenes, within which the lines have been numbered to
facilitate reference. The stage directions in B are numerous and
precise, and I have made only a few additions, which are enclosed in
brackets. The quartos vary between _Bussy_ and _D'Ambois_, and between
_Behemoth_ and _Spiritus_, as a prefix to speeches. I have kept to the
former throughout in either case.
F. S. B.
Bussy D'Ambois:
A
TRAGEDIE:
As it hath been often Acted with
great Applause.
_Being much corrected and amended
by the Author before his death._
[Illustration]
_LONDON:_
Printed by _A. N._ for _Robert Lunne_.
1641.
SOURCES
The immediate source of the play has not been identified, but in the
_Introduction_ attention has been drawn to passages in the writings of
Bussy's contemporaries, especially Brantôme and Marguerite de Valois,
which narrate episodes similar to those in the earlier Acts. Extracts
from De Thou's _Historiae sui temporis_ and Rosset's _Histoires
Tragiques_, which tell the tale of Bussy's amorous intrigue and his
assassination, have also been reprinted as an Appendix. But both these
narratives are later than the play. Seneca's representation in the
_Hercules Oetaeus_ of the Greek hero's destruction by treachery gave
Chapman suggestions for his treatment of the final episode in Bussy's
career (cf. V, 4, 100-108, and note).
PROLOGUE
_Not out of confidence that none but wee
Are able to present this tragedie,
Nor out of envie at the grace of late
It did receive, nor yet to derogate
From their deserts, who give out boldly that 5
They move with equall feet on the same flat;
Neither for all, nor any of such ends,
We offer it, gracious and noble friends,
To your review; wee, farre from emulation,
And (charitably judge) from imitation, 10
With this work entertaine you, a peece knowne,
And still beleev'd, in Court to be our owne.
To quit our claime, doubting our right or merit,
Would argue in us poverty of spirit
Which we must not subscribe to: Field is gone, 15
Whose action first did give it name, and one
Who came the neerest to him, is denide
By his gray beard to shew the height and pride
Of D'Ambois youth and braverie; yet to hold
Our title still a foot, and not grow cold 20
By giving it o're, a third man with his best
Of care and paines defends our interest;
As Richard he was lik'd, nor doe wee feare,
In personating D'Ambois, hee'le appeare
To faint, or goe lesse, so your free consent, 25
As heretofore, give him encouragement._
LINENOTES:
_Prologue._ The Prologue does not appear in A.
10 (_charitably judge_). So punctuated by ed. B has:--
_To your review, we farre from emulation
(And charitably judge from imitation)
With this work entertaine you, a peece knowne
And still beleev'd in Court to be our owne,
To quit our claime, doubting our right or merit,
Would argue in us poverty of spirit
Which we must not subscribe to._
13 _doubting_. In some copies of B this is misprinted
_oubting_.
[DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.[4:1]
HENRY III, King of France.
MONSIEUR, his brother.
THE DUKE OF GUISE.
MONTSURRY, a Count.
BUSSY D'AMBOIS.
BARRISOR, }
L'ANOU, } Courtiers: enemies of D'AMBOIS.
PYRHOT, }
BRISAC, }
MELYNELL, } Courtiers: friends of D'AMBOIS.
COMOLET, a Friar.
MAFFE, steward to MONSIEUR.
NUNCIUS.
MURDERERS.
BEHEMOTH, }
CARTOPHYLAX, } Spirits.
UMBRA OF FRIAR.
ELENOR, Duchess of Guise.
TAMYRA, Countess of Montsurry.
BEAUPRE, niece to ELENOR.
ANNABLE, maid to ELENOR.
PERO, maid to TAMYRA.
CHARLOTTE, maid to BEAUPRE.
PYRA, a court lady.
Courtiers, Ladies, Pages, Servants, Spirits, &c.
SCENE.--Paris[4:2]]
FOOTNOTES:
[4:1] The Quartos contain no list of _Dramatis Personæ_. One is however
prefixed to D'Urfey's version (1691), with the names of the performers
added. C. W. Dilke prefixed a somewhat imperfect one to his edition in
vol. III of _Old English Plays_ (1814). W. L. Phelps, who did not know
of Dilke's list, supplied a more correct one in his edition in the
_Mermaid Series_ (1895). The subjoined list adds some fresh details,
especially concerning the subordinate characters.
[4:2] Many episodes in Bussy D'Ambois's career, which took place in the
Province of Anjou, are transferred in the play to Paris.
Bussy D'Ambois
A
Tragedie
ACTUS PRIMI SCENA PRIMA.
[_A glade, near the Court._]
_Enter Bussy D'Ambois poore._
[_Bussy._] Fortune, not Reason, rules the state of things,
Reward goes backwards, Honor on his head,
Who is not poore is monstrous; only Need
Gives forme and worth to every humane seed.
As cedars beaten with continuall stormes, 5
So great men flourish; and doe imitate
Unskilfull statuaries, who suppose
(In forming a Colossus) if they make him
Stroddle enough, stroot, and look bigg, and gape,
Their work is goodly: so men meerely great 10
In their affected gravity of voice,
Sowrnesse of countenance, manners cruelty,
Authority, wealth, and all the spawne of Fortune,
Think they beare all the Kingdomes worth before them;
Yet differ not from those colossick statues, 15
Which, with heroique formes without o're-spread,
Within are nought but morter, flint and lead.
Man is a torch borne in the winde; a dreame
But of a shadow, summ'd with all his substance;
And as great seamen using all their wealth 20
And skills in Neptunes deepe invisible pathes,
In tall ships richly built and ribd with brasse,
To put a girdle round about the world,
When they have done it (comming neere their haven)
Are faine to give a warning peece, and call 25
A poore staid fisher-man, that never past
His countries sight, to waft and guide them in:
So when we wander furthest through the waves
Of glassie Glory, and the gulfes of State,
Topt with all titles, spreading all our reaches, 30
As if each private arme would sphere the earth,
Wee must to vertue for her guide resort,
Or wee shall shipwrack in our safest port. _Procumbit._
[_Enter_] _Monsieur with two Pages._
[_Monsieur._] There is no second place in numerous state
That holds more than a cypher: in a King 35
All places are contain'd. His words and looks
Are like the flashes and the bolts of Jove;
His deeds inimitable, like the sea
That shuts still as it opes, and leaves no tracts,
Nor prints of president for meane mens facts: 40
There's but a thred betwixt me and a crowne;
I would not wish it cut, unlesse by nature;
Yet to prepare me for that possible fortune,
'Tis good to get resolved spirits about mee.
I follow'd D'Ambois to this greene retreat; 45
A man of spirit beyond the reach of feare,
Who (discontent with his neglected worth)
Neglects the light, and loves obscure abodes;
But hee is young and haughty, apt to take
Fire at advancement, to beare state, and flourish; 50
In his rise therefore shall my bounties shine:
None lothes the world so much, nor loves to scoffe it,
But gold and grace will make him surfet of it.
What, D'Ambois!--
_Buss._ He, sir.
_Mons._ Turn'd to earth, alive!
Up man, the sunne shines on thee.
_Buss._ Let it shine: 55
I am no mote to play in't, as great men are.
_Mons._ Callest thou men great in state, motes in the sunne?
They say so that would have thee freeze in shades,
That (like the grosse Sicilian gurmundist)
Empty their noses in the cates they love, 60
That none may eat but they. Do thou but bring
Light to the banquet Fortune sets before thee
And thou wilt loath leane darknesse like thy death.
Who would beleeve thy mettall could let sloth
Rust and consume it? If Themistocles 65
Had liv'd obscur'd thus in th'Athenian State,
Xerxes had made both him and it his slaves.
If brave Camillus had lurckt so in Rome,
He had not five times beene Dictator there,
Nor foure times triumpht. If Epaminondas 70
(Who liv'd twice twenty yeeres obscur'd in Thebs)
Had liv'd so still, he had beene still unnam'd,
And paid his country nor himselfe their right:
But putting forth his strength he rescu'd both
From imminent ruine; and, like burnisht steele, 75
After long use he shin'd; for as the light
Not only serves to shew, but render us
Mutually profitable, so our lives
In acts exemplarie not only winne
Our selves good names, but doe to others give 80
Matter for vertuous deeds, by which wee live.
_Buss._ What would you wish me?
_Mons._ Leave the troubled streames,
And live where thrivers doe, at the well head.
_Buss._ At the well head? Alas! what should I doe
With that enchanted glasse? See devils there? 85
Or (like a strumpet) learne to set my looks
In an eternall brake, or practise jugling,
To keep my face still fast, my heart still loose;
Or beare (like dames schoolmistresses their riddles)
Two tongues, and be good only for a shift; 90
Flatter great lords, to put them still in minde
Why they were made lords; or please humorous ladies
With a good carriage, tell them idle tales,
To make their physick work; spend a man's life
In sights and visitations, that will make 95
His eyes as hollow as his mistresse heart:
To doe none good, but those that have no need;
To gaine being forward, though you break for haste
All the commandements ere you break your fast;
But beleeve backwards, make your period 100
And creeds last article, "I beleeve in God":
And (hearing villanies preacht) t'unfold their art,
Learne to commit them? Tis a great mans part.
Shall I learne this there?
_Mons._ No, thou needst not learne;
Thou hast the theorie; now goe there and practise. 105
_Buss._ I, in a thrid-bare suit; when men come there,
They must have high naps, and goe from thence bare:
A man may drowne the parts of ten rich men
In one poore suit; brave barks, and outward glosse
Attract Court loves, be in parts ne're so grosse. 110
_Mons._ Thou shalt have glosse enough, and all things fit
T'enchase in all shew thy long smothered spirit:
Be rul'd by me then. The old Scythians
Painted blinde Fortunes powerfull hands with wings,
To shew her gifts come swift and suddenly, 115
Which if her favorite be not swift to take,
He loses them for ever. Then be wise;
_Exit Mon[sieur] with Pages. Manet Buss[y]._
Stay but a while here, and I'le send to thee.
_Buss._ What will he send? some crowns? It is to sow them
Upon my spirit, and make them spring a crowne 120
Worth millions of the seed crownes he will send.
Like to disparking noble husbandmen,
Hee'll put his plow into me, plow me up;
But his unsweating thrift is policie,
And learning-hating policie is ignorant 125
To fit his seed-land soyl; a smooth plain ground
Will never nourish any politick seed.
I am for honest actions, not for great:
If I may bring up a new fashion,
And rise in Court for vertue, speed his plow! 130
The King hath knowne me long as well as hee,
Yet could my fortune never fit the length
Of both their understandings till this houre.
There is a deepe nicke in Times restlesse wheele
For each mans good, when which nicke comes, it strikes; 135
As rhetorick yet workes not perswasion,
But only is a meane to make it worke:
So no man riseth by his reall merit,
But when it cries "clincke" in his raisers spirit.
Many will say, that cannot rise at all, 140
Mans first houres rise is first step to his fall.
I'le venture that; men that fall low must die,
As well as men cast headlong from the skie.
_Ent[er] Maffe._
[_Maffe._] Humor of Princes! Is this wretch indu'd
With any merit worth a thousand crownes? 145
Will my lord have me be so ill a steward
Of his revenue, to dispose a summe
So great, with so small cause as shewes in him?
I must examine this. Is your name D'Ambois?
_Buss._ Sir?
_Maff._ Is your name D'Ambois?
_Buss._ Who have we here? 150
Serve you the Monsieur?
_Maff._ How?
_Buss._ Serve you the Monsieur?
_Maff._ Sir, y'are very hot. I doe serve the Monsieur;
But in such place as gives me the command
Of all his other servants: and because
His Graces pleasure is to give your good 155
His passe through my command, me thinks you might
Use me with more respect.
_Buss._ Crie you mercy!
Now you have opened my dull eies, I see you,
And would be glad to see the good you speake of:
What might I call your name?
_Maff._ Monsieur Maffe. 160
_Buss._ Monsieur Maffe? Then, good Monsieur Maffe,
Pray let me know you better.
_Maff._ Pray doe so,
That you may use me better. For your selfe,
By your no better outside, I would judge you
To be some poet. Have you given my lord 165
Some pamphlet?
_Buss._ Pamphlet!
_Maff._ Pamphlet, sir, I say.
_Buss._ Did your great masters goodnesse leave the good,
That is to passe your charge to my poore use,
To your discretion?
_Maff._ Though he did not, sir,
I hope 'tis no rude office to aske reason 170
How that his Grace gives me in charge, goes from me?
_Buss._ That's very perfect, sir.
_Maff._ Why, very good, sir;
I pray, then, give me leave. If for no pamphlet,
May I not know what other merit in you
Makes his compunction willing to relieve you? 175
_Buss._ No merit in the world, sir.
_Maff._ That is strange.
Y'are a poore souldier, are you?
_Buss._ That I am, sir.
_Maff._ And have commanded?
_Buss._ I, and gone without, sir.
_Maff._ I see the man: a hundred crownes will make him
Swagger, and drinke healths to his Graces bountie, 180
And sweare he could not be more bountifull;
So there's nine hundred crounes sav'd. Here, tall souldier,
His Grace hath sent you a whole hundred crownes.
_Buss._ A hundred, sir! Nay, doe his Highnesse right;
I know his hand is larger, and perhaps 185
I may deserve more than my outside shewes.
I am a poet as I am a souldier,
And I can poetise; and (being well encourag'd)
May sing his fame for giving; yours for delivering
(Like a most faithfull steward) what he gives. 190
_Maff._ What shall your subject be?
_Buss._ I care not much
If to his bounteous Grace I sing the praise
Of faire great noses, and to you of long ones.
What qualities have you, sir, (beside your chaine
And velvet jacket)? Can your Worship dance? 195
_Maff._ A pleasant fellow, faith; it seemes my lord
Will have him for his jester; and, berlady,
Such men are now no fooles; 'tis a knights place.
If I (to save his Grace some crounes) should urge him
T'abate his bountie, I should not be heard; 200
I would to heaven I were an errant asse,
For then I should be sure to have the eares
Of these great men, where now their jesters have them.
Tis good to please him, yet Ile take no notice
Of his preferment, but in policie 205
Will still be grave and serious, lest he thinke
I feare his woodden dagger. Here, Sir Ambo!
_Buss._ How, Ambo, Sir?
_Maff._ I, is not your name Ambo?
_Buss._ You call'd me lately D'Amboys; has your Worship
So short a head?
_Maff._ I cry thee mercy, D'Amboys. 210
A thousand crownes I bring you from my lord;
If you be thriftie, and play the good husband, you may make
This a good standing living; 'tis a bountie,
His Highnesse might perhaps have bestow'd better.
_Buss._ Goe, y'are a rascall; hence, away, you rogue!
[_Strikes him._] 215
_Maff._ What meane you, sir?
_Buss._ Hence! prate no more!
Or, by thy villans bloud, thou prat'st thy last!
A barbarous groome grudge at his masters bountie!
But since I know he would as much abhorre
His hinde should argue what he gives his friend, 220
Take that, Sir, for your aptnesse to dispute. _Exit._
_Maff._ These crownes are set in bloud; bloud be their fruit!
_Exit._
LINENOTES:
5 _continuall_. A, incessant.
8 _forming_. A, forging.
10 _men meerely great_. A, our tympanouse statists.
20 _wealth_. A, powers.
25 _faine_. A, glad.
31 _earth_. A, world.
40 _meane_. A, poore.
43 _possible_. A, likely.
44 _good to_. A, fit I.
57 _Callest_. A, Think'st.
80 _doe_. A, doth.
82 _me_? A, me doe.
92 _humorous_. A, portly.
102-3 _And . . . part_. Repunctuated by ed. Qq have:--
And (hearing villanies preacht) t'unfold their Art
Learne to commit them, Tis a great mans Part.
110 _loves_. A, eies.
113 _old_. A, rude.
117 _be wise_. A, be rul'd.
122-125 _Like . . . ignorant_. A omits.
126 _To fit his seed-land soyl_. A, But hee's no husband
heere.
130 _for_. A, with.
153 After this line B inserts: Table, Chesbord & Tapers
behind the Arras. This relates not to the present
Scene, but to Scene 2, where the King and Guise play
chess (cf. I, 2, 184). Either it has been inserted,
by a printer's error, prematurely; or, more probably,
it may be an instruction to the "prompter" to see
that the properties needed in the next Scene are
ready, which has crept from an acting version of the
play into the Quartos.
156 _His passe_. A, A passe.
157 _respect_. A, good fashion.
167 _your great masters goodnesse_. A, his wise
excellencie.
170 _rude_. A, bad.
180 _Graces_. A, highnes.
192 _bounteous Grace_. A, excellence.
193 _and to you of long ones_. A has:--
And to your deserts
The reverend vertues of a faithfull steward.
196 _pleasant_. A, merrie.
197 _berlady_. A, beleeve it.
199 _his Grace_. A, my Lord.
208-210. _How . . . D'Amboys_. A omits.
212 _If you be thriftie, and_. A, Serve God.
[SCENA SECUNDA.
_A room in the Court._]
_Henry, Guise, Montsurry, Elenor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero,
Charlotte, Pyra, Annable._
_Henry._ Duchesse of Guise, your Grace is much enricht
In the attendance of that English virgin,
That will initiate her prime of youth,
(Dispos'd to Court conditions) under the hand
Of your prefer'd instructions and command, 5
Rather than any in the English Court,
Whose ladies are not matcht in Christendome
For gracefull and confirm'd behaviours,
More than the Court, where they are bred, is equall'd.
_Guise._ I like not their Court-fashion; it is too crestfalne 10
In all observance, making demi-gods
Of their great nobles; and of their old Queene
An ever-yong and most immortall goddesse.
_Montsurry._ No question shee's the rarest Queene in Europe.
_Guis._ But what's that to her immortality? 15
_Henr._ Assure you, cosen Guise, so great a courtier,
So full of majestic and roiall parts,
No Queene in Christendome may vaunt her selfe.
Her Court approves it: that's a Court indeed,
Not mixt with clowneries us'd in common houses; 20
But, as Courts should be th'abstracts of their Kingdomes,
In all the beautie, state, and worth they hold,
So is hers, amplie, and by her inform'd.
The world is not contracted in a man,
With more proportion and expression, 25
Than in her Court, her kingdome. Our French Court
Is a meere mirror of confusion to it:
The king and subject, lord and every slave,
Dance a continuall haie; our roomes of state
Kept like our stables; no place more observ'd 30
Than a rude market-place: and though our custome
Keepe this assur'd confusion from our eyes,
'Tis nere the lesse essentially unsightly,
Which they would soone see, would they change their forme
To this of ours, and then compare them both; 35
Which we must not affect, because in kingdomes,
Where the Kings change doth breed the subjects terror,
Pure innovation is more grosse than error.
_Mont._ No question we shall see them imitate
(Though a farre off) the fashions of our Courts, 40
As they have ever ap't us in attire;
Never were men so weary of their skins,
And apt to leape out of themselves as they;
Who, when they travell to bring forth rare men,
Come home delivered of a fine French suit: 45
Their braines lie with their tailors, and get babies
For their most compleat issue; hee's sole heire
To all the morall vertues that first greetes
The light with a new fashion, which becomes them
Like apes, disfigur'd with the attires of men. 50
_Henr._ No question they much wrong their reall worth
In affectation of outlandish scumme;
But they have faults, and we more: they foolish-proud
To jet in others plumes so haughtely;
We proud that they are proud of foolerie, 55
Holding our worthes more compleat for their vaunts.
_Enter Monsieur, D'Ambois._
_Monsieur._ Come, mine owne sweet heart, I will enter thee.
Sir, I have brought a gentleman to court;
And pray, you would vouchsafe to doe him grace.
_Henr._ D'Ambois, I thinke.
_Bussy._ That's still my name, my lord, 60
Though I be something altered in attire.
_Henr._ We like your alteration, and must tell you,
We have expected th'offer of your service;
For we (in feare to make mild vertue proud)
Use not to seeke her out in any man. 65
_Buss._ Nor doth she use to seeke out any man:
He that will winne, must wooe her: she's not shameless.
_Mons._ I urg'd her modestie in him, my lord,
And gave her those rites that he sayes shee merits.
_Henr._ If you have woo'd and won, then, brother, weare him. 70
_Mons._ Th'art mine, sweet heart! See, here's the Guises Duches;
The Countesse of Mountsurreaue, Beaupre.
Come, I'le enseame thee. Ladies, y'are too many
To be in counsell: I have here a friend
That I would gladly enter in your graces. 75
_Buss._ 'Save you, ladyes!
_Duchess._ If you enter him in our graces, my
lord, me thinkes, by his blunt behaviour he should
come out of himselfe.
_Tamyra._ Has he never beene courtier, my 80
lord?
_Mons._ Never, my lady.
_Beaupre._ And why did the toy take him inth'
head now?
_Buss._ Tis leape yeare, lady, and therefore very 85
good to enter a courtier.
_Henr._ Marke, Duchesse of Guise, there is
one is not bashfull.
_Duch._ No my lord, he is much guilty of the
bold extremity. 90
_Tam._ The man's a courtier at first sight.
_Buss._ I can sing pricksong, lady, at first
sight; and why not be a courtier as suddenly?
_Beaup._ Here's a courtier rotten before he be
ripe. 95
_Buss._ Thinke me not impudent, lady; I am
yet no courtier; I desire to be one and would
gladly take entrance, madam, under your
princely colours.
_Enter Barrisor, L'Anou, Pyrhot._
_Duch._ Soft sir, you must rise by degrees, first 100
being the servant of some common Lady or
Knights wife, then a little higher to a Lords
wife; next a little higher to a Countesse; yet a
little higher to a Duchesse, and then turne the
ladder. 105
_Buss._ Doe you alow a man then foure mistresses,
when the greatest mistresse is alowed
but three servants?
_Duch._ Where find you that statute sir.
_Buss._ Why be judged by the groome-porters. 110
_Duch._ The groome-porters!
_Buss._ I, madam, must not they judge of all
gamings i'th' Court?
_Duch._ You talke like a gamester.
_Gui._ Sir, know you me? 115
_Buss._ My lord!
_Gui._ I know not you; whom doe you serve?
_Buss._ Serve, my lord!
_Gui._ Go to companion; your courtship's too
saucie. 120
_Buss._ Saucie! Companion! tis the Guise,
but yet those termes might have beene spar'd of
the guiserd. Companion! He's jealous, by this
light. Are you blind of that side, Duke? Ile
to her againe for that. Forth, princely mistresse, 125
for the honour of courtship. Another riddle.
_Gui._ Cease your courtshippe, or, by heaven,
Ile cut your throat.
_Buss._ Cut my throat? cut a whetstone, young
Accius Noevius! Doe as much with your 130
tongue as he did with a rasor. Cut my throat!
_Barrisor._ What new-come gallant have wee
heere, that dares mate the Guise thus?
_L'Anou._ Sfoot, tis D'Ambois! the Duke mistakes
him (on my life) for some Knight of the 135
new edition.
_Buss._ Cut my throat! I would the King
fear'd thy cutting of his throat no more than I
feare thy cutting of mine.
_Gui._ Ile doe't, by this hand. 140
_Buss._ That hand dares not doe't; y'ave cut
too many throats already, Guise, and robb'd the
realme of many thousand soules, more precious
than thine owne. Come, madam, talk on. Sfoot,
can you not talk? Talk on, I say. Another 145
riddle.
_Pyrhot._ Here's some strange distemper.
_Bar._ Here's a sudden transmigration with
D'Ambois, out of the Knights ward into the
Duches bed. 150
_L'An._ See what a metamorphosis a brave
suit can work.
_Pyr._ Slight! step to the Guise, and discover
him.
_Bar._ By no meanes; let the new suit work; 155
wee'll see the issue.
_Gui._ Leave your courting.
_Buss._ I will not. I say, mistresse, and I will
stand unto it, that if a woman may have three
servants, a man may have threescore mistresses. 160
_Gui._ Sirrha, Ile have you whipt out of the
Court for this insolence.
_Buss._ Whipt! Such another syllable out a
th'presence, if thou dar'st, for thy Dukedome.
_Gui._ Remember, poultron! 165
_Mons._ Pray thee forbeare!
_Buss._ Passion of death! Were not the King
here, he should strow the chamber like a rush.
_Mons._ But leave courting his wife then.
_Buss._ I wil not: Ile court her in despight of 170
him. Not court her! Come madam, talk on;
feare me nothing. [_To Guise._] Well mai'st
thou drive thy master from the Court, but never
D'Ambois.
_Mons._ His great heart will not down, tis like the sea, 175
That partly by his owne internall heat,
Partly the starrs daily and nightly motion,
Their heat and light, and partly of the place
The divers frames, but chiefly by the moone,
Bristled with surges, never will be wonne, 180
(No, not when th'hearts of all those powers are burst)
To make retreat into his setled home,
Till he be crown'd with his owne quiet fome.
_Henr._ You have the mate. Another?
_Gui._ No more. _Flourish short._
_Exit Guise; after him the King, Mons[ieur] whispering._
_Bar._ Why here's the lion skar'd with the 185
throat of a dunghill cock, a fellow that has
newly shak'd off his shackles; now does he
crow for that victory.
_L'An._ Tis one of the best jiggs that ever
was acted. 190
_Pyr._ Whom does the Guise suppose him to
be, troe?
_L'An._ Out of doubt, some new denizond
Lord, and thinks that suit newly drawne out a
th' mercers books. 195
_Bar._ I have heard of a fellow, that by a fixt
imagination looking upon a bulbaiting, had a
visible paire of hornes grew out of his forhead:
and I beleeve this gallant overjoyed with the
conceit of Monsieurs cast suit, imagines himselfe 200
to be the Monsieur.
_L'An._ And why not? as well as the asse
stalking in the lions case, bare himselfe like a
lion, braying all the huger beasts out of the
forrest? 205
_Pyr._ Peace! he looks this way.
_Bar._ Marrie, let him look, sir; what will you
say now if the Guise be gone to fetch a blanquet
for him?
_L'An._ Faith, I beleeve it, for his honour sake. 210
_Pyr._ But, if D'Ambois carrie it cleane? _Exeunt Ladies._
_Bar._ True, when he curvets in the blanquet.
_Pyr._ I, marrie, sir.
_L'An._ Sfoot, see how he stares on's.
_Bar._ Lord blesse us, let's away. 215
_Buss._ Now, sir, take your full view: who
does the object please ye?
_Bar._ If you aske my opinion, sir, I think
your suit sits as well as if't had beene made for
you. 220
_Buss._ So, sir, and was that the subject of your
ridiculous joylity?
_L'An._ What's that to you, sir?
_Buss._ Sir, I have observ'd all your fleerings;
and resolve your selves yee shall give a strickt 225
account for't.
_Enter Brisac, Melynell._
_Bar._ O miraculous jealousie! Doe you think
your selfe such a singular subject for laughter
that none can fall into the matter of our merriment
but you? 230
_L'An._ This jealousie of yours, sir, confesses
some close defect in your selfe that wee never
dream'd of.
_Pyr._ Wee held discourse of a perfum'd asse,
that being disguis'd in a lions case imagin'd 235
himself a lion: I hope that toucht not you.
_Buss._ So, sir? Your descants doe marvellous
well fit this ground; we shall meet where your
buffonly laughters will cost ye the best blood in
your bodies. 240
_Bar._ For lifes sake, let's be gone; hee'll kill's
outright else.
_Buss._ Goe, at your pleasures; Ile be your
ghost to haunt you; and yee sleepe an't, hang
me. 245
_L'An._ Goe, goe, sir; court your mistresse.
_Pyr._ And be advis'd; we shall have odds
against you.
_Buss._ Tush, valour stands not in number: Ile
maintaine it that one man may beat three boyes. 250
_Brisac._ Nay, you shall have no ods of him in
number, sir; hee's a gentleman as good as the
proudest of you, and yee shall not wrong him.
_Bar._ Not, sir?
_Melynell._ Not, sir; though he be not so rich, 255
hee's a better man than the best of you; and I
will not endure it.
_L'An._ Not you, sir?
_Bris._ No, sir, nor I.
_Buss._ I should thank you for this kindnesse, 260
if I thought these perfum'd musk-cats (being
out of this priviledge) durst but once mew at us.
_Bar._ Does your confident spirit doubt that,
sir? Follow us and try.
_L'An._ Come, sir, wee'll lead you a dance. 265
_Exeunt._
_Finis Actus Primi._
LINENOTES:
2 _that_. A, this.
4 _the_. A omits.
10 _Court-fashion_. A, Court forme.
11 _demi-gods_. A, semi-gods.
14-15 _No question . . . immortality_. A omits.
18 _vaunt_. A, boast.
20 _clowneries_. A, rudenesse.
32 _confusion_. A, deformitie.
47 _sole heire_. A, first borne.
53 _more_. A omits.
54 _To jet . . . haughtely_. A, To be the pictures of
our vanitie.
56 _Holding . . . vaunts_. A omits.
58 _a_. A, this. _to court_. A, t'attend you.
60-61 _That's . . . attire_. Printed as prose in Qq.
62, 63 _We_. A, I.
67 So in A: B has only: They that will winne, must wooe
her.
71 _sweet heart_. A, my love.
68-75. _I urg'd . . . graces_. Printed as prose in Qq.
76 _'Save you, ladyes_! A omits.
87-90 _Marke . . . extremity_. A omits.
_Enter . . . Pyrhot_. After l. 146 in A.
100-114 _Soft . . . gamester_. A omits.
124 _Duke_. A, Sir.
125 _princely mistresse_. A, madam.
126 _Another riddle_. A omits.
129 _young_. A, good.
132-139, and an additional line: "_Gui._ So, sir, so,"
inserted after l. 146 in A.
141-145 Set as verse in B, the lines ending in _many_, _of_,
_owne_, _talk_.
145-146 _Another riddle_. A, More courtship, as you love it.
178 _Their heat_. A, Ardor.
204 _braying_. A, roaring.
227 _miraculous jealousie_. A, strange credulitie.
229 _the matter of_. A omits.
227-231 _O . . . you_. Printed as three lines of verse,
ending in _selfe_, _into_, _you_.
235 _in_. A, with.
241 _else_. A omits.
ACTUS SECUND[i.] SCENA PRIMA.
[_A Room in the Court._]
_Henry, Guise, Montsurry, and Attendants._
_Henry._ This desperate quarrell sprung out of their envies
To D'Ambois sudden bravery, and great spirit.
_Guise._ Neither is worth their envie.
_Henr._ Lesse than either
Will make the gall of envie overflow;
She feeds on outcast entrailes like a kite: 5
In which foule heape, if any ill lies hid,
She sticks her beak into it, shakes it up,
And hurl's it all abroad, that all may view it.
Corruption is her nutriment; but touch her
With any precious oyntment, and you kill her. 10
Where she finds any filth in men, she feasts,
And with her black throat bruits it through the world
Being sound and healthfull; but if she but taste
The slenderest pittance of commended vertue,
She surfets of it, and is like a flie 15
That passes all the bodies soundest parts,
And dwels upon the sores; or if her squint eie
Have power to find none there, she forges some:
She makes that crooked ever which is strait;
Calls valour giddinesse, justice tyrannie: 20
A wise man may shun her, she not her selfe;
Whither soever she flies from her harmes,
She beares her foe still claspt in her own armes:
And therefore, cousen Guise, let us avoid her.
_Enter Nuncius._
_Nuncius._ What Atlas or Olympus lifts his head 25
So farre past covert, that with aire enough
My words may be inform'd, and from their height
I may be seene and heard through all the world?
A tale so worthy, and so fraught with wonder,
Sticks in my jawes, and labours with event. 30
_Henr._ Com'st thou from D'Ambois?
_Nun._ From him, and the rest,
His friends and enemies; whose sterne fight I saw,
And heard their words before, and in the fray.
_Henr._ Relate at large what thou hast seene and heard.
_Nun._ I saw fierce D'Ambois and his two brave friends 35
Enter the field, and at their heeles their foes;
Which were the famous souldiers, Barrisor,
L'Anou, and Pyrrhot, great in deeds of armes.
All which arriv'd at the evenest peece of earth
The field afforded, the three challengers 40
Turn'd head, drew all their rapiers, and stood ranck't;
When face to face the three defendants met them,
Alike prepar'd, and resolute alike.
Like bonfires of contributorie wood
Every mans look shew'd, fed with eithers spirit; 45
As one had beene a mirror to another,
Like formes of life and death each took from other;
And so were life and death mixt at their heights,
That you could see no feare of death, for life,
Nor love of life, for death: but in their browes 50
Pyrrho's opinion in great letters shone:
That life and death in all respects are one.
_Henr._ Past there no sort of words at their encounter?
_Nun._ As Hector, twixt the hosts of Greece and Troy,
(When Paris and the Spartane King should end 55
The nine yeares warre) held up his brasen launce
For signall that both hosts should cease from armes,
And heare him speak; so Barrisor (advis'd)
Advanc'd his naked rapier twixt both sides,
Ript up the quarrell, and compar'd six lives 60
Then laid in ballance with six idle words;
Offer'd remission and contrition too,
Or else that he and D'Ambois might conclude
The others dangers. D'Ambois lik'd the last;
But Barrisors friends (being equally engag'd 65
In the maine quarrell) never would expose
His life alone to that they all deserv'd.
And for the other offer of remission
D'Ambois (that like a lawrell put in fire
Sparkl'd and spit) did much much more than scorne 70
That his wrong should incense him so like chaffe,
To goe so soone out, and like lighted paper
Approve his spirit at once both fire and ashes.
So drew they lots, and in them Fates appointed,
That Barrisor should fight with firie D'Ambois; 75
Pyrhot with Melynell, with Brisac L'Anou;
And then, like flame and powder, they commixt
So spritely, that I wisht they had beene spirits,
That the ne're shutting wounds they needs must open
Might, as they open'd, shut, and never kill. 80
But D'Ambois sword (that lightned as it flew)
Shot like a pointed comet at the face
Of manly Barrisor, and there it stucke:
Thrice pluckt he at it, and thrice drew on thrusts
From him that of himselfe was free as fire, 85
Who thrust still as he pluckt; yet (past beliefe!)
He with his subtile eye, hand, body, scap't.
At last, the deadly bitten point tugg'd off,
On fell his yet undaunted foe so fiercely,
That (only made more horrid with his wound) 90
Great D'Ambois shrunke, and gave a little ground;
But soone return'd, redoubled in his danger,
And at the heart of Barrisor seal'd his anger.
Then, as in Arden I have seene an oke
Long shooke with tempests, and his loftie toppe 95
Bent to his root, which being at length made loose
(Even groaning with his weight), he gan to nodde
This way and that, as loth his curled browes
(Which he had oft wrapt in the skie with stormes)
Should stoope: and yet, his radicall fivers burst, 100
Storme-like he fell, and hid the feare-cold earth--
So fell stout Barrisor, that had stood the shocks
Of ten set battels in your Highnesse warre,
'Gainst the sole souldier of the world, Navarre.
_Gui._ O pitious and horrid murther!
[_Montsurry._] Such a life 105
Me thinks had mettall in it to survive
An age of men.
_Henr._ Such often soonest end.--
Thy felt report cals on; we long to know
On what events the other have arriv'd.
_Nun._ Sorrow and fury, like two opposite fumes 110
Met in the upper region of a cloud,
At the report made by this worthies fall,
Brake from the earth, and with them rose Revenge,
Entring with fresh powers his two noble friends;
And under that ods fell surcharg'd Brisac, 115
The friend of D'Ambois, before fierce L'Anou;
Which D'Ambois seeing, as I once did see,
In my young travels through Armenia,
An angrie unicorne in his full cariere
Charge with too swift a foot a jeweller, 120
That watcht him for the treasure of his brow,
And, ere he could get shelter of a tree,
Naile him with his rich antler to the earth:
So D'Ambois ranne upon reveng'd L'Anou,
Who eying th'eager point borne in his face, 125
And giving backe, fell back; and, in his fall,
His foes uncurbed sword stopt in his heart:
By which time all the life strings of th'tw'other
Were cut, and both fell, as their spirit flew,
Upwards, and still hunt Honour at the view. 130
And now (of all the six) sole D'Ambois stood
Untoucht, save only with the others bloud.
_Henr._ All slaine outright?
_Nun._ All slaine outright but he,
Who kneeling in the warme life of his friends,
(All freckled with the bloud his rapier raind) 135
He kist their pale lips, and bade both farewell:
And see the bravest man the French earth beares!
[_Exit Nuntius._]
_Enter Monsieur, D'Amb[ois] bare._
_Bussy._ Now is the time; y'are princely vow'd my friend;
Perform it princely, and obtaine my pardon.
_Monsieur._ Else Heaven forgive not me! Come on, brave friend! 140
If ever Nature held her selfe her owne,
When the great triall of a King and subject
Met in one bloud, both from one belly springing,
Now prove her vertue and her greatnesse one,
Or make the t'one the greater with the t'other, 145
(As true Kings should) and for your brothers love
(Which is a speciall species of true vertue)
Doe that you could not doe, not being a King.
_Henr._ Brother, I know your suit; these wilfull murthers
Are ever past our pardon.
_Mons._ Manly slaughter 150
Should never beare th'account of wilfull murther,
It being a spice of justice, where with life
Offending past law equall life is laid
In equall ballance, to scourge that offence
By law of reputation, which to men 155
Exceeds all positive law; and what that leaves
To true mens valours (not prefixing rights
Of satisfaction suited to their wrongs)
A free mans eminence may supply and take.
_Henr._ This would make every man that thinks him wrong'd, 160
Or is offended, or in wrong or right,
Lay on this violence; and all vaunt themselves
Law-menders and supplyers, though meere butchers,
Should this fact, though of justice, be forgiven.
_Mons._ O no, my Lord! it would make cowards feare 165
To touch the reputations of true men.
When only they are left to impe the law,
Justice will soone distinguish murtherous minds
From just revengers. Had my friend beene slaine,
His enemy surviving, he should die, 170
Since he had added to a murther'd fame
(Which was in his intent) a murthered man;
And this had worthily beene wilfull murther;
But my friend only sav'd his fames deare life,
Which is above life, taking th'under value 175
Which in the wrong it did was forfeit to him;
And in this fact only preserves a man
In his uprightnesse, worthy to survive
Millions of such as murther men alive.
_Henr._ Well, brother, rise, and raise your friend withall 180
From death to life: and, D'Ambois, let your life
(Refin'd by passing through this merited death)
Be purg'd from more such foule pollution;
Nor on your scape, nor valour, more presuming
To be again so violent.
_Buss._ My Lord, 185
I lothe as much a deed of unjust death,
As law it selfe doth; and to tyrannise,
Because I have a little spirit to dare,
And power to doe, as to be tyranniz'd.
This is a grace that (on my knees redoubled) 190
I crave, to double this my short lifes gift,
And shall your royal bountie centuple,
That I may so make good what Law and Nature
Have given me for my good: since I am free,
(Offending no just law) let no law make, 195
By any wrong it does, my life her slave:
When I am wrong'd, and that Law failes to right me,
Let me be King my selfe (as man was made)
And doe a justice that exceeds the Law:
If my wrong passe the power of single valour 200
To right and expiate, then be you my King,
And doe a right, exceeding Law and Nature.
Who to himselfe is law, no law doth need,
Offends no law, and is a King indeed.
_Henr._ Enjoy what thou intreat'st, we give but ours. 205
_Buss._ What you have given, my lord, is ever yours.
_Exit Rex cum [Montsurry.]_
_Gui._ _Mort dieu_, who would have pardon'd such a murther?
_Exit._
_Mons._ Now vanish horrors into Court attractions
For which let this balme make thee fresh and faire!
And now forth with thy service to the Duchesse, 210
As my long love will to Monsurries Countesse. _Exit._
_Buss._ To whom my love hath long been vow'd in heart,
Although in hand, for shew, I held the Duchesse.
And now through bloud and vengeance, deeds of height,
And hard to be atchiev'd, tis fit I make 215
Attempt of her perfection. I need feare
No check in his rivality, since her vertues
Are so renown'd, and hee of all dames hated. _Exit._
LINENOTES:
_Montsurry, and Attendants._ A, Beaumond, Nuncius.
11 _Where_. A, When.
27 _their_. A, his.
70 _Sparkl'd_. So in A; B, Spakl'd.
105 [_Montsurry._] Emend. ed.: Beau. Qq; see note 30, p.
149.
120 _a foot_. A, an eie.
128 _th'_. A, the.
129 _spirit_. A, spirits.
133 _All slaine outright_? So in A; B, All slaine
outright but hee?
135 _freckled_. A, feebled.
166 _true_. A, full.
185 _violent_. So in A; B, daring.
204 _law_. A, King.
206 _cum [Montsurry.]_ Emend. ed.: Qq, cum Beau. See note
30, p. 149.
207 _Mort dieu_. A; B omits.
210-218 _And now . . . hated_. A omits, inserting instead:
_Buss._ How shall I quite your love?
_Mons._ Be true to the
end.
I have obtained a kingdome with my friend.
[ACTUS SECUNDI SCENA SECUNDA.
_A Room in Montsurry's House._]
_Montsur[ry], Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Pyrha._
_Montsurry._ He will have pardon, sure.
_Tamyra._ Twere pittie else:
For though his great spirit something overflow,
All faults are still borne, that from greatnesse grow:
But such a sudden courtier saw I never.
_Beaupre._ He was too sudden, which indeed was rudenesse. 5
_Tam._ True, for it argued his no due conceit
Both of the place, and greatnesse of the persons,
Nor of our sex: all which (we all being strangers
To his encounter) should have made more maners
Deserve more welcome.
_Mont._ All this fault is found 10
Because he lov'd the Duchesse and left you.
_Tam._ Ahlas, love give her joy! I am so farre
From envie of her honour, that I sweare,
Had he encounterd me with such proud sleight,
I would have put that project face of his 15
To a more test than did her Dutchesship.
_Beau._ Why (by your leave, my lord) Ile speake it heere,
(Although she be my ante) she scarce was modest,
When she perceived the Duke, her husband, take
Those late exceptions to her servants courtship, 20
To entertaine him.
_Tam._ I, and stand him still,
Letting her husband give her servant place:
Though he did manly, she should be a woman.
_Enter Guise._
[_Guise._] D'Ambois is pardond! wher's a King? where law?
See how it runnes, much like a turbulent sea; 25
Heere high and glorious, as it did contend
To wash the heavens, and make the stars more pure;
And heere so low, it leaves the mud of hell
To every common view. Come, Count Montsurry,
We must consult of this.
_Tam._ Stay not, sweet lord. 30
_Mont._ Be pleased; Ile strait returne. _Exit cum Guise._
_Tam._ Would that would please me!
_Beau._ Ile leave you, madam, to your passions;
I see ther's change of weather in your lookes. _Exit cum suis._
_Tam._ I cannot cloake it; but, as when a fume,
Hot, drie, and grosse, within the wombe of earth 35
Or in her superficies begot,
When extreame cold hath stroke it to her heart,
The more it is comprest, the more it rageth,
Exceeds his prisons strength that should containe it,
And then it tosseth temples in the aire, 40
All barres made engines to his insolent fury:
So, of a sudden, my licentious fancy
Riots within me: not my name and house,
Nor my religion to this houre observ'd,
Can stand above it; I must utter that 45
That will in parting breake more strings in me,
Than death when life parts; and that holy man
That, from my cradle, counseld for my soule,
I now must make an agent for my bloud.
_Enter Monsieur._
_Monsieur._ Yet is my mistresse gratious?
_Tam._ Yet unanswered? 50
_Mons._ Pray thee regard thine owne good, if not mine,
And cheere my love for that: you doe not know
What you may be by me, nor what without me;
I may have power t'advance and pull downe any.
_Tam._ That's not my study. One way I am sure 55
You shall not pull downe me; my husbands height
Is crowne to all my hopes, and his retiring
To any meane state, shall be my aspiring.
Mine honour's in mine owne hands, spite of kings.
_Mons._ Honour, what's that? your second maydenhead: 60
And what is that? a word: the word is gone,
The thing remaines; the rose is pluckt, the stalk
Abides: an easie losse where no lack's found.
Beleeve it, there's as small lack in the losse
As there is paine ith' losing. Archers ever 65
Have two strings to a bow, and shall great Cupid
(Archer of archers both in men and women)
Be worse provided than a common archer?
A husband and a friend all wise wives have.
_Tam._ Wise wives they are that on such strings depend, 70
With a firme husband joyning a lose friend.
_Mons._ Still you stand on your husband; so doe all
The common sex of you, when y'are encounter'd
With one ye cannot fancie: all men know
You live in Court here by your owne election, 75
Frequenting all our common sports and triumphs,
All the most youthfull company of men.
And wherefore doe you this? To please your husband?
Tis grosse and fulsome: if your husbands pleasure
Be all your object, and you ayme at honour 80
In living close to him, get you from Court,
You may have him at home; these common put-ofs
For common women serve: "my honour! husband!"
Dames maritorious ne're were meritorious:
Speak plaine, and say "I doe not like you, sir, 85
Y'are an ill-favour'd fellow in my eye,"
And I am answer'd.
_Tam._ Then I pray be answer'd:
For in good faith, my lord, I doe not like you
In that sort you like.
_Mons._ Then have at you here!
Take (with a politique hand) this rope of pearle; 90
And though you be not amorous, yet be wise:
Take me for wisedom; he that you can love
Is nere the further from you.
_Tam._ Now it comes
So ill prepar'd, that I may take a poyson
Under a medicine as good cheap as it: 95
I will not have it were it worth the world.
_Mons._ Horror of death! could I but please your eye,
You would give me the like, ere you would loose me.
"Honour and husband!"
_Tam._ By this light, my lord,
Y'are a vile fellow; and Ile tell the King 100
Your occupation of dishonouring ladies,
And of his Court. A lady cannot live
As she was borne, and with that sort of pleasure
That fits her state, but she must be defam'd
With an infamous lords detraction: 105
Who would endure the Court if these attempts,
Of open and profest lust must be borne?--
Whose there? come on, dame, you are at your book
When men are at your mistresse; have I taught you
Any such waiting womans quality? 110
_Mons._ Farewell, good "husband"! _Exit Mons[ieur]._
_Tam._ Farewell, wicked lord!
_Enter Mont[surry]._
_Mont._ Was not the Monsieur here?
_Tam._ Yes, to good purpose;
And your cause is as good to seek him too,
And haunt his company.
_Mont._ Why, what's the matter?
_Tam._ Matter of death, were I some husbands wife: 115
I cannot live at quiet in my chamber
For oportunities almost to rapes
Offerd me by him.
_Mont._ Pray thee beare with him:
Thou know'st he is a bachelor, and a courtier,
I, and a Prince: and their prerogatives 120
Are to their lawes, as to their pardons are
Their reservations, after Parliaments--
One quits another; forme gives all their essence.
That Prince doth high in vertues reckoning stand
That will entreat a vice, and not command: 125
So farre beare with him; should another man
Trust to his priviledge, he should trust to death:
Take comfort then (my comfort), nay, triumph,
And crown thy selfe; thou part'st with victory:
My presence is so onely deare to thee 130
That other mens appeare worse than they be:
For this night yet, beare with my forced absence:
Thou know'st my businesse; and with how much weight
My vow hath charged it.
_Tam._ True, my lord, and never
My fruitlesse love shall let your serious honour; 135
Yet, sweet lord, do no stay; you know my soule
Is so long time with out me, and I dead,
As you are absent.
_Mont._ By this kisse, receive
My soule for hostage, till I see my love.
_Tam._ The morne shall let me see you?
_Mont._ With the sunne 140
Ile visit thy more comfortable beauties.
_Tam._ This is my comfort, that the sunne hath left
The whole worlds beauty ere my sunne leaves me.
_Mont._ Tis late night now, indeed: farewell, my light! _Exit._
_Tam._ Farewell, my light and life! but not in him, 145
In mine owne dark love and light bent to another.
Alas! that in the wane of our affections
We should supply it with a full dissembling,
In which each youngest maid is grown a mother.
Frailty is fruitfull, one sinne gets another: 150
Our loves like sparkles are that brightest shine
When they goe out; most vice shewes most divine.
Goe, maid, to bed; lend me your book, I pray,
Not, like your selfe, for forme. Ile this night trouble
None of your services: make sure the dores, 155
And call your other fellowes to their rest.
_Per._ I will--yet I will watch to know why you watch. _Exit._
_Tam._ Now all yee peacefull regents of the night,
Silently-gliding exhalations,
Languishing windes, and murmuring falls of waters, 160
Sadnesse of heart, and ominous securenesse,
Enchantments, dead sleepes, all the friends of rest,
That ever wrought upon the life of man,
Extend your utmost strengths, and this charm'd houre
Fix like the Center! make the violent wheeles 165
Of Time and Fortune stand, and great Existens,
(The Makers treasurie) now not seeme to be
To all but my approaching friends and me!
They come, alas, they come! Feare, feare and hope
Of one thing, at one instant, fight in me: 170
I love what most I loath, and cannot live,
Unlesse I compasse that which holds my death;
For life's meere death, loving one that loathes me,
And he I love will loath me, when he sees
I flie my sex, my vertue, my renowne, 175
To runne so madly on a man unknowne. _The Vault opens._
See, see, a vault is opening that was never
Knowne to my lord and husband, nor to any
But him that brings the man I love, and me.
How shall I looke on him? how shall I live, 180
And not consume in blushes? I will in;
And cast my selfe off, as I ne're had beene. _Exit._
_Ascendit Frier and D'Ambois._
_Friar._ Come, worthiest sonne, I am past measure glad
That you (whose worth I have approv'd so long)
Should be the object of her fearefull love; 185
Since both your wit and spirit can adapt
Their full force to supply her utmost weaknesse.
You know her worths and vertues, for report
Of all that know is to a man a knowledge:
You know besides that our affections storme, 190
Rais'd in our blood, no reason can reforme.
Though she seeke then their satisfaction
(Which she must needs, or rest unsatisfied)
Your judgement will esteeme her peace thus wrought
Nothing lesse deare than if your selfe had sought: 195
And (with another colour, which my art
Shall teach you to lay on) your selfe must seeme
The only agent, and the first orbe move
In this our set and cunning world of love.
_Bussy._ Give me the colour (my most honour'd father) 200
And trust my cunning then to lay it on.
_Fri._ Tis this, good sonne:--Lord Barrisor (whom you slew)
Did love her dearely, and with all fit meanes
Hath urg'd his acceptation, of all which
Shee keepes one letter written in his blood: 205
You must say thus, then: that you heard from mee
How much her selfe was toucht in conscience
With a report (which is in truth disperst)
That your maine quarrell grew about her love,
Lord Barrisor imagining your courtship 210
Of the great Guises Duchesse in the Presence
Was by you made to his elected mistresse:
And so made me your meane now to resolve her,
Chosing by my direction this nights depth,
For the more cleare avoiding of all note 215
Of your presumed presence. And with this
(To cleare her hands of such a lovers blood)
She will so kindly thank and entertaine you
(Me thinks I see how), I, and ten to one,
Shew you the confirmation in his blood, 220
Lest you should think report and she did faine,
That you shall so have circumstantiall meanes
To come to the direct, which must be used:
For the direct is crooked; love comes flying;
The height of love is still wonne with denying. 225
_Buss._ Thanks, honoured father.
_Fri._ Shee must never know
That you know any thing of any love
Sustain'd on her part: for, learne this of me,
In any thing a woman does alone,
If she dissemble, she thinks tis not done; 230
If not dissemble, nor a little chide,
Give her her wish, she is not satisfi'd;
To have a man think that she never seekes
Does her more good than to have all she likes:
This frailty sticks in them beyond their sex, 235
Which to reforme, reason is too perplex:
Urge reason to them, it will doe no good;
Humour (that is the charriot of our food
In every body) must in them be fed,
To carrie their affections by it bred. 240
Stand close!
_Enter Tamyra with a book._
_Tam._ Alas, I fear my strangenesse will retire him.
If he goe back, I die; I must prevent it,
And cheare his onset with my sight at least,
And that's the most; though every step he takes 245
Goes to my heart. Ile rather die than seeme
Not to be strange to that I most esteeme.
_Fri._ Madam!
_Tam._ Ah!
_Fri._ You will pardon me, I hope,
That so beyond your expectation,
(And at a time for visitants so unfit) 250
I (with my noble friend here) visit you:
You know that my accesse at any time
Hath ever beene admitted; and that friend,
That my care will presume to bring with me,
Shall have all circumstance of worth in him 255
To merit as free welcome as myselfe.
_Tam._ O father, but at this suspicious houre
You know how apt best men are to suspect us
In any cause that makes suspicious shadow
No greater than the shadow of a haire; 260
And y'are to blame. What though my lord and husband
Lie forth to night, and since I cannot sleepe
When he is absent I sit up to night;
Though all the dores are sure, and all our servants
As sure bound with their sleepes; yet there is One 265
That wakes above, whose eye no sleepe can binde:
He sees through dores, and darknesse, and our thoughts;
And therefore as we should avoid with feare
To think amisse our selves before his search,
So should we be as curious to shunne 270
All cause that other think not ill of us.
_Buss._ Madam, 'tis farre from that: I only heard
By this my honour'd father that your conscience
Made some deepe scruple with a false report
That Barrisors blood should something touch your honour, 275
Since he imagin'd I was courting you
When I was bold to change words with the Duchesse,
And therefore made his quarrell, his long love
And service, as I heare, beeing deepely vowed
To your perfections; which my ready presence, 280
Presum'd on with my father at this season
For the more care of your so curious honour,
Can well resolve your conscience is most false.
_Tam._ And is it therefore that you come, good sir?
Then crave I now your pardon and my fathers, 285
And sweare your presence does me so much good
That all I have it bindes to your requitall.
Indeed sir, 'tis most true that a report
Is spread, alleadging that his love to me
Was reason of your quarrell; and because 290
You shall not think I faine it for my glory
That he importun'd me for his Court service,
I'le shew you his own hand, set down in blood,
To that vaine purpose: good sir, then come in.
Father, I thank you now a thousand fold. 295
_Exit Tamyra and D'Amb[ois]._
_Fri._ May it be worth it to you, honour'd daughter!
_Descendit Fryar._
_Finis Actus Secundi._
LINENOTES:
1-49 _He will . . . bloud_. These lines and the direction,
_Montsur . . . Pyrha_, are found in A only.
50 B, which begins the scene with this line, inserts
before it: _Enter Monsieur, Tamyra, and Pero with a
booke._
71 _joyning a lose_. A, weighing a dissolute.
76 _common_. A, solemne.
135 _honour_. A, profit.
146 _In . . . another_. A omits.
147 _wane_. Emend., Dilke; Qq, wave.
158 _yee_. A, the.
172 _which_. A, that.
173 _For life's . . . me_. A, For love is hatefull
without love againe.
_The Vault opens_. B places this after 173; A omits.
177-181 _See . . . in_. Instead of these lines, A has:--
See, see the gulfe is opening that will
swallow
Me and my fame forever; I will in.
_with a book_. A omits.
266 _wakes_. A, sits.
274 _Made some deepe scruple_. A, Was something troubled.
275 _honour_. A, hand.
278-280 _his long love . . . perfections_. A omits.
280 _ready_. A omits.
286 _good_. A, comfort.
ACTUS TERTII SCENA PRIMA.
[_A Room in Montsurry's House._]
_Enter D'Ambois, Tamyra, with a chaine of pearle._
_Bussy._ Sweet mistresse, cease! your conscience is too nice,
And bites too hotly of the Puritane spice.
_Tamyra._ O, my deare servant, in thy close embraces
I have set open all the dores of danger
To my encompast honour, and my life: 5
Before I was secure against death and hell;
But now am subject to the heartlesse feare
Of every shadow, and of every breath,
And would change firmnesse with an aspen leafe:
So confident a spotlesse conscience is, 10
So weake a guilty. O, the dangerous siege
Sinne layes about us, and the tyrannie
He exercises when he hath expugn'd!
Like to the horror of a winter's thunder,
Mixt with a gushing storme, that suffer nothing 15
To stirre abroad on earth but their own rages,
Is sinne, when it hath gathered head above us;
No roofe, no shelter can secure us so,
But he will drowne our cheeks in feare or woe.
_Buss._ Sin is a coward, madam, and insults 20
But on our weaknesse, in his truest valour:
And so our ignorance tames us, that we let
His shadowes fright us: and like empty clouds
In which our faulty apprehensions forge
The formes of dragons, lions, elephants, 25
When they hold no proportion, the slie charmes
Of the witch policy makes him like a monster
Kept onely to shew men for servile money:
That false hagge often paints him in her cloth
Ten times more monstrous than he is in troth. 30
In three of us the secret of our meeting
Is onely guarded, and three friends as one
Have ever beene esteem'd, as our three powers
That in our one soule are as one united:
Why should we feare then? for my selfe, I sweare, 35
Sooner shall torture be the sire to pleasure,
And health be grievous to one long time sick,
Than the deare jewell of your fame in me
Be made an out-cast to your infamy;
Nor shall my value (sacred to your vertues) 40
Onely give free course to it from my selfe,
But make it flie out of the mouths of Kings
In golden vapours, and with awfull wings.
_Tam._ It rests as all Kings seales were set in thee.
Now let us call my father, whom I sweare 45
I could extreamly chide, but that I feare
To make him so suspicious of my love,
Of which (sweet servant) doe not let him know
For all the world.
_Buss._ Alas! he will not think it.
_Tam._ Come then--ho! Father, ope and take your friend. 50
_Ascendit Frier._
_Fri._ Now, honour'd daughter, is your doubt resolv'd?
_Tam._ I, father, but you went away too soone.
_Fri._ Too soone!
_Tam._ Indeed you did; you should have stayed;
Had not your worthy friend beene of your bringing,
And that containes all lawes to temper me, 55
Not all the fearefull danger that besieged us
Had aw'd my throat from exclamation.
_Fri._ I know your serious disposition well.
Come, sonne, the morne comes on.
_Buss._ Now, honour'd mistresse,
Till farther service call, all blisse supply you! 60
_Tam._ And you this chaine of pearle, and my love onely!
_Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]._
It is not I, but urgent destiny
That (as great states-men for their generall end
In politique justice make poore men offend)
Enforceth my offence to make it just. 65
What shall weak dames doe, when th' whole work of Nature
Hath a strong finger in each one of us?
Needs must that sweep away the silly cobweb
Of our still-undone labours, that layes still
Our powers to it, as to the line, the stone, 70
Not to the stone, the line should be oppos'd.
We cannot keepe our constant course in vertue:
What is alike at all parts? every day
Differs from other, every houre and minute;
I, every thought in our false clock of life 75
Oft times inverts the whole circumference:
We must be sometimes one, sometimes another.
Our bodies are but thick clouds to our soules,
Through which they cannot shine when they desire.
When all the starres, and even the sunne himselfe, 80
Must stay the vapours times that he exhales
Before he can make good his beames to us,
O how can we, that are but motes to him,
Wandring at random in his ordered rayes,
Disperse our passions fumes, with our weak labours, 85
That are more thick and black than all earths vapours?
_Enter Mont[surry]._
_Mont._ Good day, my love! what, up and ready too!
_Tam._ Both (my deare lord): not all this night made I
My selfe unready, or could sleep a wink.
_Mont._ Alas, what troubled my true love, my peace, 90
From being at peace within her better selfe?
Or how could sleepe forbeare to seize thine eyes,
When he might challenge them as his just prise?
_Tam._ I am in no powre earthly, but in yours.
To what end should I goe to bed, my lord, 95
That wholly mist the comfort of my bed?
Or how should sleepe possesse my faculties,
Wanting the proper closer of mine eyes?
_Mont._ Then will I never more sleepe night from thee:
All mine owne businesse, all the Kings affaires, 100
Shall take the day to serve them; every night
Ile ever dedicate to thy delight.
_Tam._ Nay, good my lord, esteeme not my desires
Such doters on their humours that my judgement
Cannot subdue them to your worthier pleasure: 105
A wives pleas'd husband must her object be
In all her acts, not her sooth'd fantasie.
_Mont._ Then come, my love, now pay those rites to sleepe
Thy faire eyes owe him: shall we now to bed?
_Tam._ O no, my lord! your holy frier sayes 110
All couplings in the day that touch the bed
Adulterous are, even in the married;
Whose grave and worthy doctrine, well I know,
Your faith in him will liberally allow.
_Mont._ Hee's a most learned and religious man. 115
Come to the Presence then, and see great D'Ambois
(Fortunes proud mushrome shot up in a night)
Stand like an Atlas under our Kings arme;
Which greatnesse with him Monsieur now envies
As bitterly and deadly as the Guise. 120
_Tam._ What! he that was but yesterday his maker,
His raiser, and preserver?
_Mont._ Even the same.
Each naturall agent works but to this end,
To render that it works on like it selfe;
Which since the Monsieur in his act on D'Ambois 125
Cannot to his ambitious end effect,
But that (quite opposite) the King hath power
(In his love borne to D'Ambois) to convert
The point of Monsieurs aime on his owne breast,
He turnes his outward love to inward hate: 130
A princes love is like the lightnings fume,
Which no man can embrace, but must consume. _Exeunt._
LINENOTES:
_Enter D'Ambois . . . pearle_. A, Bucy, Tamyra.
1-2 _Sweet . . . spice_. A omits.
28 _servile_. A, Goddesse.
34 _our one_. So in A: B omits _our_.
35 _selfe_. A, truth.
37 _one_. A, men.
45-61 _Now let . . . Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]_. A
omits.
92 _thine eies_. A, thy beauties.
118 _under our Kings arme_. A, underneath the King.
[ACTUS TERTII SCENA SECUNDA.
_A room in the Court._]
_Henry, D'Ambois, Monsieur, Guise, Dutches, Annabell,
Charlot, Attendants._
_Henry._ Speak home, my Bussy! thy impartiall words
Are like brave faulcons that dare trusse a fowle
Much greater than themselves; flatterers are kites
That check at sparrowes; thou shalt be my eagle,
And beare my thunder underneath thy wings: 5
Truths words like jewels hang in th'eares of kings.
_Bussy_. Would I might live to see no Jewes hang there
In steed of jewels--sycophants, I meane,
Who use Truth like the Devill, his true foe,
Cast by the angell to the pit of feares, 10
And bound in chaines; Truth seldome decks kings eares.
Slave flattery (like a rippiers legs rowl'd up
In boots of hay-ropes) with kings soothed guts
Swadled and strappl'd, now lives onely free.
O, tis a subtle knave; how like the plague 15
Unfelt he strikes into the braine of man,
And rageth in his entrailes when he can,
Worse than the poison of a red hair'd man.
_Henr._ Fly at him and his brood! I cast thee off,
And once more give thee surname of mine eagle. 20
_Buss._ Ile make you sport enough, then. Let me have
My lucerns too, or dogs inur'd to hunt
Beasts of most rapine, but to put them up,
And if I trusse not, let me not be trusted.
Shew me a great man (by the peoples voice, 25
Which is the voice of God) that by his greatnesse
Bumbasts his private roofes with publique riches;
That affects royaltie, rising from a clapdish;
That rules so much more than his suffering King,
That he makes kings of his subordinate slaves: 30
Himselfe and them graduate like woodmongers
Piling a stack of billets from the earth,
Raising each other into steeples heights;
Let him convey this on the turning props
Of Protean law, and (his owne counsell keeping) 35
Keepe all upright--let me but hawlk at him,
Ile play the vulture, and so thump his liver
That (like a huge unlading Argosea)
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
Shew me a clergie man that is in voice 40
A lark of heaven, in heart a mowle of earth;
That hath good living, and a wicked life;
A temperate look, and a luxurious gut;
Turning the rents of his superfluous cures
Into your phesants and your partriches; 45
Venting their quintessence as men read Hebrew--
Let me but hawlk at him, and like the other,
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
Shew me a lawyer that turnes sacred law
(The equall rendrer of each man his owne, 50
The scourge of rapine and extortion,
The sanctuary and impregnable defence
Of retir'd learning and besieged vertue)
Into a Harpy, that eates all but's owne,
Into the damned sinnes it punisheth, 55
Into the synagogue of theeves and atheists;
Blood into gold, and justice into lust:--
Let me but hawlk at him, as at the rest,
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
_Enter Mont-surrey, Tamira and Pero._
_Gui._ Where will you find such game as you would hawlk at? 60
_Buss._ Ile hawlk about your house for one of them.
_Gui._ Come, y'are a glorious ruffin and runne proud
Of the Kings headlong graces; hold your breath,
Or, by that poyson'd vapour, not the King
Shall back your murtherous valour against me. 65
_Buss._ I would the King would make his presence free
But for one bout betwixt us: by the reverence
Due to the sacred space twixt kings and subjects,
Here would I make thee cast that popular purple
In which thy proud soule sits and braves thy soveraigne. 70
_Mons._ Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace!
_Buss._ Let him peace first
That made the first warre.
_Mons._ He's the better man.
_Buss._ And, therefore, may doe worst?
_Mons._ He has more titles.
_Buss._ So Hydra had more heads.
_Mons._ He's greater knowne.
_Buss._ His greatnesse is the peoples, mine's mine owne. 75
_Mons._ He's noblier borne.
_Buss._ He is not; I am noble,
And noblesse in his blood hath no gradation,
But in his merit.
_Gui._ Th'art not nobly borne,
But bastard to the Cardinall of Ambois.
_Buss._ Thou liest, proud Guiserd; let me flie, my Lord! 80
_Henr._ Not in my face, my eagle! violence flies
The sanctuaries of a princes eyes.
_Buss._ Still shall we chide, and fome upon this bit?
Is the Guise onely great in faction?
Stands he not by himselfe? Proves he th'opinion 85
That mens soules are without them? Be a duke,
And lead me to the field.
_Guis._ Come, follow me.
_Henr._ Stay them! stay, D'Ambois! Cosen Guise, I wonder
Your honour'd disposition brooks so ill
A man so good that only would uphold 90
Man in his native noblesse, from whose fall
All our dissentions rise; that in himselfe
(Without the outward patches of our frailty,
Riches and honour) knowes he comprehends
Worth with the greatest. Kings had never borne 95
Such boundlesse empire over other men,
Had all maintain'd the spirit and state of D'Ambois;
Nor had the full impartiall hand of Nature,
That all things gave in her originall
Without these definite terms of Mine and Thine, 100
Beene turn'd unjustly to the hand of Fortune,
Had all preserv'd her in her prime like D'Ambois;
No envie, no disjunction had dissolv'd,
Or pluck'd one stick out of the golden faggot
In which the world of Saturne bound our lifes, 105
Had all beene held together with the nerves,
The genius, and th'ingenious soule of D'Ambois.
Let my hand therefore be the Hermean rod
To part and reconcile, and so conserve you,
As my combin'd embracers and supporters. 110
_Buss._ Tis our Kings motion, and we shall not seeme
To worst eies womanish, though we change thus soone
Never so great grudge for his greater pleasure.
_Gui._ I seale to that, and so the manly freedome,
That you so much professe, hereafter prove not 115
A bold and glorious licence to deprave,
To me his hand shall hold the Hermean vertue
His grace affects, in which submissive signe
On this his sacred right hand I lay mine.
_Buss._ Tis well, my lord, and so your worthy greatnesse 120
Decline not to the greater insolence,
Nor make you think it a prerogative
To rack mens freedomes with the ruder wrongs,
My hand (stuck full of lawrell, in true signe
Tis wholly dedicate to righteous peace) 125
In all submission kisseth th'other side.
_Henr._ Thanks to ye both: and kindly I invite ye
Both to a banquet where weele sacrifice
Full cups to confirmation of your loves;
At which (faire ladies) I entreat your presence; 130
And hope you, madam, will take one carowse
For reconcilement of your lord and servant.
_Duchess._ If I should faile, my lord, some other lady
Would be found there to doe that for my servant.
_Mons._ Any of these here?
_Duch._ Nay, I know not that. 135
_Buss._ Think your thoughts like my mistresse, honour'd lady?
_Tamyra._ I think not on you, sir; y'are one I know not.
_Buss._ Cry you mercy, madam!
_Montsurry._ Oh sir, has she met you?
_Exeunt Henry, D'Amb[ois], Ladies._
_Mons._ What had my bounty drunk when it rais'd him?
_Gui._ Y'ave stuck us up a very worthy flag, 140
That takes more winde than we with all our sailes.
_Mons._ O, so he spreds and flourishes.
_Gui._ He must downe;
Upstarts should never perch too neere a crowne.
_Mons._ Tis true, my lord; and as this doting hand
Even out of earth (like Juno) struck this giant, 145
So Joves great ordinance shall be here implide
To strike him under th'Ætna of his pride.
To which work lend your hands, and let us cast
Where we may set snares for his ranging greatnes.
I think it best, amongst our greatest women: 150
For there is no such trap to catch an upstart
As a loose downfall; for, you know, their falls
Are th'ends of all mens rising. If great men
And wise make scapes to please advantage,
Tis with a woman--women that woorst may 155
Still hold mens candels: they direct and know
All things amisse in all men, and their women
All things amisse in them; through whose charm'd mouthes
We may see all the close scapes of the Court.
When the most royall beast of chase, the hart, 160
Being old, and cunning in his layres and haunts,
Can never be discovered to the bow,
The peece, or hound--yet where, behind some queich,
He breaks his gall, and rutteth with his hinde,
The place is markt, and by his venery 165
He still is taken. Shall we then attempt
The chiefest meane to that discovery here,
And court our greatest ladies chiefest women
With shewes of love, and liberall promises?
Tis but our breath. If something given in hand 170
Sharpen their hopes of more, 'twill be well ventur'd.
_Gui._ No doubt of that: and 'tis the cunningst point
Of our devis'd investigation.
_Mons._ I have broken
The yce to it already with the woman
Of your chast lady, and conceive good hope 175
I shall wade thorow to some wished shore
At our next meeting.
_Mont._ Nay, there's small hope there.
_Gui._ Take say of her, my lord, she comes most fitly.
_Mons._ Starting back?
_Enter Charlot, Anable, Pero._
_Gui._ Y'are ingag'd indeed. 180
_Annable._ Nay pray, my lord, forbeare.
_Mont._ What, skittish, servant?
_An._ No, my lord, I am not so fit for your service.
_Charlotte._ Nay, pardon me now, my lord; my lady expects me. 185
_Gui._ Ile satisfie her expectation, as far as an unkle may.
_Mons._ Well said! a spirit of courtship of all
hands. Now, mine owne Pero, hast thou remembred 190
me for the discovery I entreated thee
to make of thy mistresse? Speak boldly, and be
sure of all things I have sworne to thee.
_Pero._ Building on that assurance (my lord) I
may speak; and much the rather because my 195
lady hath not trusted me with that I can tell
you; for now I cannot be said to betray her.
_Mons._ That's all one, so wee reach our
objects: forth, I beseech thee.
_Per._ To tell you truth, my lord, I have made 200
a strange discovery.
_Mons._ Excellent Pero, thou reviv'st me; may I
sink quick to perdition if my tongue discover it!
_Per._ Tis thus, then: this last night my lord
lay forth, and I, watching my ladies sitting up, 205
stole up at midnight from my pallat, and (having
before made a hole both through the wall and
arras to her inmost chamber) I saw D'Ambois
and her selfe reading a letter!
_Mons._ D'Ambois! 210
_Per._ Even he, my lord.
_Mons._ Do'st thou not dreame, wench?
_Per._ I sweare he is the man.
_Mons._ The devill he is, and thy lady his dam!
Why this was the happiest shot that ever flewe; 215
the just plague of hypocrisie level'd it. Oh, the
infinite regions betwixt a womans tongue and
her heart! is this our Goddesse of chastity? I
thought I could not be so sleighted, if she had
not her fraught besides, and therefore plotted this 220
with her woman, never dreaming of D'Amboys.
Deare Pero, I will advance thee for ever: but
tell me now--Gods pretious, it transformes mee
with admiration--sweet Pero, whom should she
trust with this conveyance? Or, all the dores 225
being made sure, how should his conveyance be
made?
_Per._ Nay, my lord, that amazes me: I cannot
by any study so much as guesse at it.
_Mons._ Well, let's favour our apprehensions 230
with forbearing that a little; for, if my heart
were not hoopt with adamant, the conceipt of
this would have burst it: but heark thee. _Whispers._
_Mont._ I pray thee, resolve mee: the Duke
will never imagine that I am busie about's wife: 235
hath D'Ambois any privy accesse to her?
_An._ No, my lord, D'Ambois neglects her (as
shee takes it) and is therefore suspicious that
either your lady, or the lady Beaupre, hath
closely entertain'd him. 240
_Mont._ Ber lady, a likely suspition, and very
neere the life--especially of my wife.
_Mons._ Come, we'l disguise all with seeming
onely to have courted.--Away, dry palm! sh'as
a livor as dry as a bisket; a man may goe a 245
whole voyage with her, and get nothing but
tempests from her windpipe.
_Gui._ Here's one (I think) has swallowed a
porcupine, shee casts pricks from her tongue so.
_Mont._ And here's a peacock seemes to have 250
devour'd one of the Alpes, she has so swelling
a spirit, & is so cold of her kindnes.
_Char._ We are no windfalls, my lord; ye must
gather us with the ladder of matrimony, or we'l
hang till we be rotten. 255
_Mons._ Indeed, that's the way to make ye right
openarses. But, alas, ye have no portions fit for
such husbands as we wish you.
_Per._ Portions, my lord! yes, and such portions
as your principality cannot purchase. 260
_Mons._ What, woman, what are those portions?
_Per._ Riddle my riddle, my lord.
_Mons._ I, marry, wench, I think thy portion
is a right riddle; a man shall never finde it out:
but let's heare it. 265
_Per._ You shall, my lord.
_What's that, that being most rar's most cheap?
That when you sow, you never reap?
That when it growes most, most you [th]in it,
And still you lose it, when you win it? 270
That when tis commonest, tis dearest,
And when tis farthest off, 'tis neerest?_
_Mons._ Is this your great portion?
_Per._ Even this, my lord.
_Mons._ Beleeve me, I cannot riddle it. 275
_Per._ No, my lord; tis my chastity, which you
shall neither riddle nor fiddle.
_Mons._ Your chastity! Let me begin with the
end of it; how is a womans chastity neerest
man, when tis furthest off? 280
_Per._ Why, my lord, when you cannot get it,
it goes to th'heart on you; and that I think comes
most neere you: and I am sure it shall be farre
enough off. And so wee leave you to our mercies. _Exeunt Women._
_Mons._ Farewell, riddle. 285
_Gui._ Farewell, medlar.
_Mont._ Farewell, winter plum.
_Mons._ Now, my lords, what fruit of our inquisition?
feele you nothing budding yet? Speak,
good my lord Montsurry. 290
_Mont._ Nothing but this: D'Ambois is thought
negligent in observing the Duchesse, and therefore
she is suspicious that your neece or my wife
closely entertaines him.
_Mons._ Your wife, my lord! Think you that 295
possible?
_Mont._ Alas, I know she flies him like her
last houre.
_Mons._ Her last houre? Why that comes upon
her the more she flies it. Does D'Ambois so, 300
think you?
_Mont._ That's not worth the answering. Tis
miraculous to think with what monsters womens
imaginations engrosse them when they are once
enamour'd, and what wonders they will work 305
for their satisfaction. They will make a sheepe
valiant, a lion fearefull.
_Mons._ And an asse confident. Well, my lord,
more will come forth shortly; get you to the
banquet. 310
_Gui._ Come, my lord, I have the blind side of
one of them. _Exit Guise cum Mont[surry]._
_Mons._ O the unsounded sea of womens bloods,
That when tis calmest, is most dangerous!
Not any wrinkle creaming in their faces, 315
When in their hearts are Scylla and Caribdis,
Which still are hid in dark and standing foggs,
Where never day shines, nothing ever growes
But weeds and poysons that no states-man knowes;
Nor Cerberus ever saw the damned nookes 320
Hid with the veiles of womens vertuous lookes.
But what a cloud of sulphur have I drawne
Up to my bosome in this dangerous secret!
Which if my hast with any spark should light
Ere D'Ambois were engag'd in some sure plot, 325
I were blowne up; he would be, sure, my death.
Would I had never knowne it, for before
I shall perswade th'importance to Montsurry,
And make him with some studied stratagem
Train D'Ambois to his wreak, his maid may tell it; 330
Or I (out of my fiery thirst to play
With the fell tyger up in darknesse tyed,
And give it some light) make it quite break loose.
I feare it, afore heaven, and will not see
D'Ambois againe, till I have told Montsurry, 335
And set a snare with him to free my feares.
Whose there?
_Enter Maffe._
_Maffe._ My lord?
_Mons._ Goe, call the Count Montsurry,
And make the dores fast; I will speak with none
Till he come to me.
_Maf._ Well, my lord. _Exiturus._
_Mons._ Or else
Send you some other, and see all the dores 340
Made safe your selfe, I pray; hast, flie about it.
_Maf._ You'l speak with none but with the Count Montsurry?
_Mons._ With none but hee, except it be the Guise.
_Maf._ See, even by this there's one exception more;
Your Grace must be more firme in the command, 345
Or else shall I as weakly execute.
The Guise shall speak with you?
_Mons._ He shall, I say.
_Maf._ And Count Montsurry?
_Mons._ I, and Count Montsurry.
_Maf._ Your Grace must pardon me, that I am bold
To urge the cleare and full sence of your pleasure; 350
Which when so ever I have knowne, I hope
Your Grace will say I hit it to a haire.
_Mons._ You have.
_Maf._ I hope so, or I would be glad--
_Mons._ I pray thee, get thee gone; thou art so tedious
In the strick't forme of all thy services 355
That I had better have one negligent.
You hit my pleasure well, when D'Ambois hit you;
Did you not, think you?
_Maf._ D'Ambois! why, my lord--
_Mons._ I pray thee, talk no more, but shut the dores:
Doe what I charge thee.
_Maf._ I will my lord, and yet 360
I would be glad the wrong I had of D'Ambois--
_Mons._ Precious! then it is a fate that plagues me
In this mans foolery; I may be murthered,
While he stands on protection of his folly.
Avant, about thy charge!
_Maf._ I goe, my lord.-- 365
I had my head broke in his faithfull service;
I had no suit the more, nor any thanks,
And yet my teeth must still be hit with D'Ambois.
D'Ambois, my lord, shall know--
_Mons._ The devill and D'Ambois!
_Exit Maffe._
How am I tortur'd with this trusty foole! 370
Never was any curious in his place
To doe things justly, but he was an asse:
We cannot finde one trusty that is witty,
And therefore beare their disproportion.
Grant, thou great starre, and angell of my life, 375
A sure lease of it but for some few dayes,
That I may cleare my bosome of the snake
I cherisht there, and I will then defie
All check to it but Natures; and her altars
Shall crack with vessels crown'd with ev'ry liquor 380
Drawn from her highest and most bloudy humors.
I feare him strangely; his advanced valour
Is like a spirit rais'd without a circle,
Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him,
And for whose fury he hath learnt no limit. 385
_Enter Maffe hastily._
_Maf._ I cannot help it; what should I do more?
As I was gathering a fit guard to make
My passage to the dores, and the dores sure,
The man of bloud is enter'd.
_Mons._ Rage of death!
If I had told the secret, and he knew it, 390
Thus had I bin endanger'd.
_Enter D'Ambois._
My sweet heart!
How now? what leap'st thou at?
_Bussy._ O royall object!
_Mons._ Thou dream'st awake: object in th'empty aire!
_Buss._ Worthy the browes of Titan, worth his chaire.
_Mons._ Pray thee, what mean'st thou?
_Buss._ See you not a crowne 395
Empalethe forehead of the great King Monsieur?
_Mons._ O, fie upon thee!
_Buss._ Prince, that is the subject
Of all these your retir'd and sole discourses.
_Mons._ Wilt thou not leave that wrongfull supposition?
_Buss._ Why wrongfull to suppose the doubtlesse right 400
To the succession worth the thinking on?
_Mons._ Well, leave these jests! how I am over-joyed
With thy wish'd presence, and how fit thou com'st,
For, of mine honour, I was sending for thee.
_Buss._ To what end?
_Mons._ Onely for thy company, 405
Which I have still in thought; but that's no payment
On thy part made with personall appearance.
Thy absence so long suffered oftentimes
Put me in some little doubt thou do'st not love me.
Wilt thou doe one thing therefore now sincerely? 410
_Buss._ I, any thing--but killing of the King.
_Mons._ Still in that discord, and ill taken note?
How most unseasonable thou playest the cucko,
In this thy fall of friendship!
_Buss._ Then doe not doubt
That there is any act within my nerves, 415
But killing of the King, that is not yours.
_Mons._ I will not then; to prove which, by my love
Shewne to thy vertues, and by all fruits else
Already sprung from that still flourishing tree,
With whatsoever may hereafter spring, 420
I charge thee utter (even with all the freedome
Both of thy noble nature and thy friendship)
The full and plaine state of me in thy thoughts.
_Buss._ What, utter plainly what I think of you?
_Mons._ Plaine as truth. 425
_Buss._ Why this swims quite against the stream of greatnes:
Great men would rather heare their flatteries,
And if they be not made fooles, are not wise.
_Mons._ I am no such great foole, and therefore charge thee
Even from the root of thy free heart display mee. 430
_Buss._ Since you affect it in such serious termes,
If your selfe first will tell me what you think
As freely and as heartily of me,
I'le be as open in my thoughts of you.
_Mons._ A bargain, of mine honour! and make this, 435
That prove we in our full dissection
Never so foule, live still the sounder friends.
_Buss._ What else, sir? come, pay me home, ile bide it bravely.
_Mons._ I will, I sweare. I think thee, then, a man
That dares as much as a wilde horse or tyger, 440
As headstrong and as bloody; and to feed
The ravenous wolfe of thy most caniball valour
(Rather than not employ it) thou would'st turne
Hackster to any whore, slave to a Jew,
Or English usurer, to force possessions 445
(And cut mens throats) of morgaged estates;
Or thou would'st tire thee like a tinkers strumpet,
And murther market folks; quarrell with sheepe,
And runne as mad as Ajax; serve a butcher;
Doe any thing but killing of the King. 450
That in thy valour th'art like other naturalls
That have strange gifts in nature, but no soule
Diffus'd quite through, to make them of a peece,
But stop at humours, that are more absurd,
Childish and villanous than that hackster, whore, 455
Slave, cut-throat, tinkers bitch, compar'd before;
And in those humours would'st envie, betray,
Slander, blaspheme, change each houre a religion,
Doe any thing, but killing of the King:
That in thy valour (which is still the dunghill, 460
To which hath reference all filth in thy house)
Th'art more ridiculous and vaine-glorious
Than any mountibank, and impudent
Than any painted bawd; which not to sooth,
And glorifie thee like a Jupiter Hammon, 465
Thou eat'st thy heart in vinegar, and thy gall
Turns all thy blood to poyson, which is cause
Of that toad-poole that stands in thy complexion,
And makes thee with a cold and earthy moisture,
(Which is the damme of putrifaction) 470
As plague to thy damn'd pride, rot as thou liv'st:
To study calumnies and treacheries;
To thy friends slaughters like a scrich-owle sing,
And to all mischiefes--but to kill the King.
_Buss._ So! have you said?
_Mons._ How thinkest thou? Doe I flatter? 475
Speak I not like a trusty friend to thee?
_Buss._ That ever any man was blest withall.
So here's for me! I think you are (at worst)
No devill, since y'are like to be no King;
Of which with any friend of yours Ile lay 480
This poore stillado here gainst all the starres,
I, and 'gainst all your treacheries, which are more:
That you did never good, but to doe ill,
But ill of all sorts, free and for it selfe:
That (like a murthering peece making lanes in armies, 485
The first man of a rank, the whole rank falling)
If you have wrong'd one man, you are so farre
From making him amends that all his race,
Friends, and associates fall into your chace:
That y'are for perjuries the very prince 490
Of all intelligencers; and your voice
Is like an easterne winde, that, where it flies,
Knits nets of catterpillars, with which you catch
The prime of all the fruits the kingdome yeelds:
That your politicall head is the curst fount 495
Of all the violence, rapine, cruelty,
Tyrannie, & atheisme flowing through the realme:
That y'ave a tongue so scandalous, 'twill cut
The purest christall, and a breath that will
Kill to that wall a spider; you will jest 500
With God, and your soule to the Devill tender
For lust; kisse horror, and with death engender:
That your foule body is a Lernean fenne
Of all the maladies breeding in all men:
That you are utterly without a soule; 505
And for your life, the thred of that was spunne
When Clotho slept, and let her breathing rock
Fall in the durt; and Lachesis still drawes it,
Dipping her twisting fingers in a boule
Defil'd, and crown'd with vertues forced soule: 510
And lastly (which I must for gratitude
Ever remember) that of all my height
And dearest life you are the onely spring,
Onely in royall hope to kill the King.
_Mons._ Why, now I see thou lov'st me! come to the banquet!
_Exeunt._ 515
_Finis Actus Tertii._
LINENOTES:
_Henry . . . Attendants_. A, _Henry, D'Ambois,
Monsieur, Guise, Mont., Elenor, Tam., Pero_.
1 _my_. A; B omits.
4 _sparrowes_. A, nothing.
16 _man_. A, truth.
29 _than_. So in A; B, by.
53 _besieged_. A, oppressed.
58 _the rest_. A, the tother.
67 _bout_. A, charge.
71-72 Three lines in Qq, i.e. _Peace . . . thee peace_ |
_Let . . . warre_ | _He's . . . man_.
76 _noblier_. Emend. ed. Qq, nobly; see note, p. 154.
88 _Stay . . . D'Ambois_. B, Stay them, stay D'Ambois.
89 _honour'd_. A, equall.
96 _empire_. A, eminence.
104 _one stick out_. A, out one sticke.
105 _bound our lifes_. A, was compris'd.
107 _ingenious_. A, ingenuous.
117 _hold_. A, proove. _vertue_. A, rodde.
121 _Decline not to_. A, Engender not.
131-138 _And hope . . . D'Amb[ois], Ladies_. Omitted in A,
which after 130 has: _Exeunt Henry, D'Amb., Ely, Ta._
140 _worthy_. A, proper.
149 _ranging_. A, gadding.
153 _for, you know_. A, and indeed.
160-161 _the hart, Being old, and cunning in his_. A, being
old, And cunning in his choice of.
163-164 _where . . . his hinde_. A has:--
Where his custome is
To beat his vault, and he ruts with his hinde.
168 _chiefest_. A, greatest.
172 _the cunningst_. A, an excellent.
173-177 _I have broken . . . hope there_. A has:--