_Count._ What change is here! how are my hopes prevented!

O my most faithfull servant, thou betraid! 40

Will Kings make treason lawfull? Is societie

(To keepe which onely Kings were first ordain'd)

Lesse broke in breaking faith twixt friend and friend

Then twixt the King and subject? let them feare

Kings presidents in licence lacke no danger. 45

Kings are compar'd to Gods, and should be like them,

Full in all right, in nought superfluous,

Nor nothing straining past right for their right.

Raigne justly, and raigne safely. Policie

Is but a guard corrupted, and a way 50

Venter'd in desarts, without guide or path.

Kings punish subjects errors with their owne.

Kings are like archers, and their subjects, shafts:

For as when archers let their arrowes flye,

They call to them, and bid them flye or fall, 55

As if twere in the free power of the shaft

To flye or fall, when onely tis the strength,

Straight shooting, compasse given it by the archer,

That makes it hit or misse; and doing eyther,

Hee's to be prais'd or blam'd, and not the shaft: 60

So Kings to subjects crying, "Doe, doe not this,"

Must to them by their owne examples strength,

The straightnesse of their acts, and equall compasse,

Give subjects power t'obey them in the like;

Not shoote them forth with faultie ayme and strength, 65

And lay the fault in them for flying amisse.

_Aum._ But for your servant, I dare sweare him guiltlesse.

_Count._ Hee would not for his kingdome traitor be;

His lawes are not so true to him, as he.

O knew I how to free him, by way forc'd 70

Through all their armie, I would flye, and doe it:

And had I of my courage and resolve

But tenne such more, they should not all retaine him.

But I will never die, before I give

Maillard an hundred slashes with a sword, 75

Chalon an hundred breaches with a pistoll.

They could not all have taken Clermont D'Ambois

Without their treacherie; he had bought his bands out

With their slave blouds: but he was credulous;

Hee would beleeve, since he would be beleev'd; 80

Your noblest natures are most credulous.

Who gives no trust, all trust is apt to breake;

Hate like hell mouth who thinke not what they speake.

_Aum._ Well, madame, I must tender my attendance

On him againe. Will't please you to returne 85

No service to him by me?

_Count._ Fetch me straight

My little cabinet. _Exit Ancil[la]._

Tis little, tell him,

And much too little for his matchlesse love:

But as in him the worths of many men

Are close contracted, (_Intr[at] Ancil[la.]_) so in this are

jewels 90

Worth many cabinets. Here, with this (good sir)

Commend my kindest service to my servant,

Thanke him, with all my comforts, and, in them,

With all my life for them; all sent from him

In his remembrance of mee and true love. 95

And looke you tell him, tell him how I lye

_She kneeles downe at his feete._

Prostrate at feet of his accurst misfortune,

Pouring my teares out, which shall ever fall,

Till I have pour'd for him out eyes and all.

_Aum._ O madame, this will kill him; comfort you 100

With full assurance of his quicke acquitall;

Be not so passionate; rise, cease your teares.

_Coun._ Then must my life cease. Teares are all the vent

My life hath to scape death. Teares please me better

Then all lifes comforts, being the naturall seede 105

Of heartie sorrow. As a tree fruit beares,

So doth an undissembled sorrow, teares.

_Hee raises her, and leades her out. Exe[unt]._

_Usher._ This might have beene before, and sav'd much charge.

_Exit._

LINENOTES:

5 _brack's_. Emended by all editors; Q, brack.

20 _and should; expresse it all_. So punctuated by all

editors; Q, and should expresse it all.

31 _Maillard_. Q, Mailiard.

[SCÆNA QUARTA.

_A Room at the Court in Paris._]

_Enter Henry, Guise, Baligny, Esp[ernone], Soisson.

Pericot with pen, incke, and paper._

_Guise._ Now, sir, I hope you're much abus'd eyes see

In my word for my Clermont, what a villaine

Hee was that whisper'd in your jealous eare

His owne blacke treason in suggesting Clermonts,

Colour'd with nothing but being great with mee. 5

Signe then this writ for his deliverie;

Your hand was never urg'd with worthier boldnesse:

Come, pray, sir, signe it. Why should Kings be praid

To acts of justice? tis a reverence

Makes them despis'd, and showes they sticke and tyre 10

In what their free powers should be hot as fire.

_Henry._ Well, take your will, sir;--Ile have mine ere long.--

_Aversus._

But wherein is this Clermont such a rare one?

_Gui._ In his most gentle and unwearied minde,

Rightly to vertue fram'd in very nature; 15

In his most firme inexorable spirit

To be remov'd from any thing hee chuseth

For worthinesse; or beare the lest perswasion

To what is base, or fitteth not his object;

In his contempt of riches, and of greatnesse 20

In estimation of th'idolatrous vulgar;

His scorne of all things servile and ignoble,

Though they could gaine him never such advancement;

His liberall kinde of speaking what is truth,

In spight of temporising; the great rising 25

And learning of his soule so much the more

Against ill fortune, as shee set her selfe

Sharpe against him or would present most hard,

To shunne the malice of her deadliest charge;

His detestation of his speciall friends, 30

When he perceiv'd their tyrannous will to doe,

Or their abjection basely to sustaine

Any injustice that they could revenge;

The flexibilitie of his most anger,

Even in the maine careere and fury of it, 35

When any object of desertfull pittie

Offers it selfe to him; his sweet disposure,

As much abhorring to behold as doe

Any unnaturall and bloudy action;

His just contempt of jesters, parasites, 40

Servile observers, and polluted tongues--

In short, this Senecall man is found in him,

Hee may with heavens immortall powers compare,

To whom the day and fortune equall are;

Come faire or foule, whatever chance can fall, 45

Fixt in himselfe, hee still is one to all.

_Hen._ Showes he to others thus?

_Omnes._ To all that know him.

_Hen._ And apprehend I this man for a traitor?

_Gui._ These are your Machevilian villaines,

Your bastard Teucers, that, their mischiefes done, 50

Runne to your shield for shelter; Cacusses

That cut their too large murtherous theveries

To their dens length still. Woe be to that state

Where treacherie guards, and ruine makes men great!

_Hen._ Goe, take my letters for him, and release him. 55

_Om._ Thankes to your Highnesse; ever live your Highnesse!

_Exeunt._

_Baligny._ Better a man were buried quicke then live

A propertie for state and spoile to thrive. _Exit._

LINENOTES:

_Aversus._ In left margin in Q.

51 _Cacusses_. Ed.; Q, Caucusses.

[SCÆNA QUINTA.

_A Country Road, between Cambrai and Paris._]

_Enter Clermont, Mail[lard], Chal[on] with Souldiers._

_Maillard._ Wee joy you take a chance so ill, so well.

_Clermont._ Who ever saw me differ in acceptance

Of eyther fortune?

_Chalon._ What, love bad like good!

How should one learne that?

_Cler._ To love nothing outward,

Or not within our owne powers to command; 5

And so being sure of every thing we love,

Who cares to lose the rest? if any man

Would neyther live nor dye in his free choise,

But as hee sees necessitie will have it

(Which if hee would resist, he strives in vaine) 10

What can come neere him that hee doth not well?

And if in worst events his will be done,

How can the best be better? all is one.

_Mail._ Me thinkes tis prettie.

_Cler._ Put no difference

If you have this, or not this; but as children 15

Playing at coites ever regard their game,

And care not for their coites, so let a man

The things themselves that touch him not esteeme,

But his free power in well disposing them.

_Chal._ Prettie, from toyes!

_Cler._ Me thinkes this double disticke 20

Seemes prettily too to stay superfluous longings:

"Not to have want, what riches doth exceede?

Not to be subject, what superiour thing?

He that to nought aspires, doth nothing neede;

Who breakes no law is subject to no King." 25

_Mail._ This goes to mine eare well, I promise you.

_Chal._ O, but tis passing hard to stay one thus.

_Cler._ Tis so; rancke custome raps men so beyond it.

And as tis hard so well mens dores to barre

To keepe the cat out and th'adulterer: 30

So tis as hard to curbe affections so

Wee let in nought to make them over-flow.

And as of Homers verses, many critickes

On those stand of which times old moth hath eaten

The first or last feete, and the perfect parts 35

Of his unmatched poeme sinke beneath,

With upright gasping and sloath dull as death:

So the unprofitable things of life,

And those we cannot compasse, we affect;

All that doth profit and wee have, neglect, 40

Like covetous and basely getting men

That, gathering much, use never what they keepe;

But for the least they loose, extreamely weepe.

_Mail._ This prettie talking, and our horses walking

Downe this steepe hill, spends time with equall profit. 45

_Cler._ Tis well bestow'd on ye; meate and men sicke

Agree like this and you: and yet even this

Is th'end of all skill, power, wealth, all that is.

_Chal._ I long to heare, sir, how your mistresse takes this.

_Enter Aumal with a cabinet._

_Mail._ Wee soone shall know it; see Aumall return'd. 50

_Aumale._ Ease to your bands, sir!

_Cler._ Welcome, worthy friend!

_Chal._ How tooke his noblest mistresse your sad message?

_Aum._ As great rich men take sodaine povertie.

I never witness'd a more noble love,

Nor a more ruthfull sorrow: I well wisht 55

Some other had beene master of my message.

_Mail._ Y'are happy, sir, in all things, but this one

Of your unhappy apprehension.

_Cler._ This is to mee, compar'd with her much mone,

As one teare is to her whole passion. 60

_Aum._ Sir, shee commends her kindest service to you,

And this rich cabinet.

_Chal._ O happy man!

This may enough hold to redeeme your bands.

_Cler._ These clouds, I doubt not, will be soone blowne over.

_Enter Baligny, with his discharge: Renel, and others._

_Aum._ Your hope is just and happy; see, sir, both 65

In both the looks of these.

_Baligny._ Here's a discharge

For this your prisoner, my good Lord Lieutenant.

_Mail._ Alas, sir, I usurpe that stile, enforc't,

And hope you know it was not my aspiring.

_Bal._ Well, sir, my wrong aspir'd past all mens hopes. 70

_Mail._ I sorrow for it, sir.

_Renel._ You see, sir, there

Your prisoners discharge autenticall.

_Mail._ It is, sir, and I yeeld it him with gladnesse.

_Bal._ Brother, I brought you downe to much good purpose.

_Cler._ Repeate not that, sir; the amends makes all. 75

_Ren._ I joy in it, my best and worthiest friend;

O, y'have a princely fautor of the Guise.

_Bal._ I thinke I did my part to.

_Ren._ Well, sir, all

Is in the issue well: and (worthiest friend)

Here's from your friend, the Guise; here from the Countesse, 80

Your brothers mistresse, the contents whereof

I know, and must prepare you now to please

Th'unrested spirit of your slaughtered brother,

If it be true, as you imagin'd once,

His apparition show'd it. The complot 85

Is now laid sure betwixt us; therefore haste

Both to your great friend (who hath some use waightie

For your repaire to him) and to the Countesse,

Whose satisfaction is no lesse important.

_Cler._ I see all, and will haste as it importeth. 90

And good friend, since I must delay a little

My wisht attendance on my noblest mistresse,

Excuse me to her, with returne of this,

And endlesse protestation of my service;

And now become as glad a messenger, 95

As you were late a wofull.

_Aum._ Happy change!

I ever will salute thee with my service. _Exit._

_Bal._ Yet more newes, brother; the late jesting Monsieur

Makes now your brothers dying prophesie equall

At all parts, being dead as he presag'd. 100

_Ren._ Heaven shield the Guise from seconding that truth

With what he likewise prophesied on him!

_Cler._ It hath enough, twas grac'd with truth in one;

To'th other falshood and confusion!

Leade to the Court, sir.

_Bal._ You Ile leade no more; 105

It was to ominous and foule before. _Exeunt._

_Finis Actus quarti._

LINENOTES:

105 _to the_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, to'th.

ACTUS QUINTI SCÆNA PRIMA.

[_A Room in the Palace of the Duke of Guise._]

_Ascendit Umbra Bussi._

_Umbra Bussi._ Up from the chaos of eternall night

(To which the whole digestion of the world

Is now returning) once more I ascend,

And bide the cold dampe of this piercing ayre,

To urge the justice whose almightie word 5

Measures the bloudy acts of impious men

With equall pennance, who in th'act it selfe

Includes th'infliction, which like chained shot

Batter together still; though (as the thunder

Seemes, by mens duller hearing then their sight, 10

To breake a great time after lightning forth,

Yet both at one time teare the labouring cloud)

So men thinke pennance of their ils is slow,

Though th'ill and pennance still together goe.

Reforme, yee ignorant men, your manlesse lives 15

Whose lawes yee thinke are nothing but your lusts;

When leaving (but for supposition sake)

The body of felicitie, religion,

Set in the midst of Christendome, and her head

Cleft to her bosome, one halfe one way swaying, 20

Another th'other, all the Christian world

And all her lawes whose observation

Stands upon faith, above the power of reason--

Leaving (I say) all these, this might suffice

To fray yee from your vicious swindge in ill 25

And set you more on fire to doe more good;

That since the world (as which of you denies?)

Stands by proportion, all may thence conclude

That all the joynts and nerves sustaining nature

As well may breake, and yet the world abide, 30

As any one good unrewarded die,

Or any one ill scape his penaltie. _The Ghost stands close._

_Enter Guise, Clermont._

_Guise._ Thus (friend) thou seest how all good men would thrive,

Did not the good thou prompt'st me with prevent

The jealous ill pursuing them in others. 35

But now thy dangers are dispatcht, note mine.

Hast thou not heard of that admired voyce

That at the barricadoes spake to mee,

(No person seene) "Let's leade my lord to Reimes"?

_Clermont._ Nor could you learne the person?

_Gui._ By no meanes. 40

_Cler._ Twas but your fancie, then, a waking dreame:

For as in sleepe, which bindes both th'outward senses

And the sense common to, th'imagining power

(Stird up by formes hid in the memories store,

Or by the vapours of o'er-flowing humours 45

In bodies full and foule, and mixt with spirits)

Faines many strange, miraculous images,

In which act it so painfully applyes

It selfe to those formes that the common sense

It actuates with his motion, and thereby 50

Those fictions true seeme and have reall act:

So, in the strength of our conceits awake,

The cause alike doth [oft] like fictions make.

_Gui._ Be what it will, twas a presage of something

Waightie and secret, which th'advertisements 55

I have receiv'd from all parts, both without

And in this kingdome, as from Rome and Spaine,

Lorraine and Savoye, gives me cause to thinke,

All writing that our plots catastrophe,

For propagation of the Catholique cause, 60

Will bloudy prove, dissolving all our counsailes.

_Cler._ Retyre, then, from them all.

_Gui._ I must not doe so.

The Arch-Bishop of Lyons tels me plaine

I shall be said then to abandon France

In so important an occasion; 65

And that mine enemies (their profit making

Of my faint absence) soone would let that fall,

That all my paines did to this height exhale.

_Cler._ Let all fall that would rise unlawfully!

Make not your forward spirit in vertues right 70

A property for vice, by thrusting on

Further then all your powers can fetch you off.

It is enough, your will is infinite

To all things vertuous and religious,

Which, within limits kept, may without danger 75

Let vertue some good from your graces gather.

Avarice of all is ever nothings father.

_Umb._ Danger (the spurre of all great mindes) is ever

The curbe to your tame spirits; you respect not

(With all your holinesse of life and learning) 80

More then the present, like illiterate vulgars;

Your minde (you say) kept in your fleshes bounds

Showes that mans will must rul'd be by his power:

When by true doctrine you are taught to live

Rather without the body then within, 85

And rather to your God still then your selfe.

To live to Him is to doe all things fitting

His image in which like Himselfe we live;

To be His image is to doe those things

That make us deathlesse, which by death is onely 90

Doing those deedes that fit eternitie;

And those deedes are the perfecting that justice

That makes the world last, which proportion is

Of punishment and wreake for every wrong,

As well as for right a reward as strong: 95

Away, then! use the meanes thou hast to right

The wrong I suffer'd. What corrupted law

Leaves unperform'd in Kings, doe thou supply,

And be above them all in dignitie. _Exit._

_Gui._ Why stand'st thou still thus, and applyest thine eares 100

And eyes to nothing?

_Cler._ Saw you nothing here?

_Gui._ Thou dream'st awake now; what was here to see?

_Cler._ My brothers spirit, urging his revenge.

_Gui._ Thy brothers spirit! pray thee mocke me not.

_Cler._ No, by my love and service.

_Gui._ Would he rise, 105

And not be thundring threates against the Guise?

_Cler._ You make amends for enmitie to him,

With tenne parts more love and desert of mee;

And as you make your hate to him no let

Of any love to mee, no more beares hee 110

(Since you to me supply it) hate to you.

Which reason and which justice is perform'd

In spirits tenne parts more then fleshy men;

To whose fore-sights our acts and thoughts lie open:

And therefore, since hee saw the treacherie 115

Late practis'd by my brother Baligny,

Hee would not honor his hand with the justice

(As hee esteemes it) of his blouds revenge,

To which my sister needes would have him sworne,

Before she would consent to marry him. 120

_Gui._ O Baligny!--who would beleeve there were

A man that (onely since his lookes are rais'd

Upwards, and have but sacred heaven in sight)

Could beare a minde so more then divellish?

As for the painted glory of the countenance, 125

Flitting in Kings, doth good for nought esteeme,

And the more ill hee does, the better seeme.

_Cler._ Wee easily may beleeve it, since we see

In this worlds practise few men better be.

Justice to live doth nought but justice neede, 130

But policie must still on mischiefe feede.

Untruth, for all his ends, truths name doth sue in;

None safely live but those that study ruine.

A good man happy is a common good;

Ill men advanc'd live of the common bloud. 135

_Gui._ But this thy brothers spirit startles mee,

These spirits seld or never hanting men

But some mishap ensues.

_Cler._ Ensue what can;

Tyrants may kill but never hurt a man;

All to his good makes, spight of death and hell. 140

_Enter Aumall._

_Aumale._ All the desert of good renowne your Highnesse!

_Gui._ Welcome, Aumall!

_Cler._ My good friend, friendly welcome!

How tooke my noblest mistresse the chang'd newes?

_Aum._ It came too late sir, for those loveliest eyes

(Through which a soule look't so divinely loving, 145

Teares nothing uttering her distresse enough)

She wept quite out, and, like two falling starres,

Their dearest sights quite vanisht with her teares.

_Cler._ All good forbid it!

_Gui._ What events are these!

_Cler._ All must be borne, my lord; and yet this chance 150

Would willingly enforce a man to cast off

All power to beare with comfort, since hee sees

In this our comforts made our miseries.

_Gui._ How strangely thou art lov'd of both the sexes;

Yet thou lov'st neyther, but the good of both. 155

_Cler._ In love of women my affection first

Takes fire out of the fraile parts of my bloud;

Which, till I have enjoy'd, is passionate

Like other lovers; but, fruition past,

I then love out of judgement, the desert 160

Of her I love still sticking in my heart,

Though the desire and the delight be gone,

Which must chance still, since the comparison

Made upon tryall twixt what reason loves,

And what affection, makes in mee the best 165

Ever preferd, what most love, valuing lest.

_Gui._ Thy love being judgement then, and of the minde,

Marry thy worthiest mistresse now being blinde.

_Cler._ If there were love in mariage, so I would;

But I denie that any man doth love, 170

Affecting wives, maides, widowes, any women:

For neither flyes love milke, although they drowne

In greedy search thereof; nor doth the bee

Love honey, though the labour of her life

Is spent in gathering it; nor those that fat 175

On beasts, or fowles, doe any thing therein

For any love: for as when onely nature

Moves men to meate, as farre as her power rules,

Shee doth it with a temperate appetite,

The too much men devoure abhorring nature, 180

And in our most health is our most disease:

So, when humanitie rules men and women,

Tis for societie confinde in reason.

But what excites the beds desire in bloud,

By no meanes justly can be construed love; 185

For when love kindles any knowing spirit,

It ends in vertue and effects divine,

And is in friendship chaste and masculine.

_Gui._ Thou shalt my mistresse be; me thinkes my bloud

Is taken up to all love with thy vertues. 190

And howsoever other men despise

These paradoxes strange and too precise,

Since they hold on the right way of our reason,

I could attend them ever. Come, away;

Performe thy brothers thus importun'd wreake; 195

And I will see what great affaires the King

Hath to employ my counsell which he seemes

Much to desire, and more and more esteemes. _Exeunt._

LINENOTES:

53 _doth oft like_. Emended by ed.; Q, doth of like.

58 _Lorraine_. Emended by ed.; Q, Soccaine; see note on

55-61.

90 Repunctuated by ed.; Q has (;) at the end of the

line.

141 _All . . . renowne_. Q, All the desert of good,

renowne your Highnesse.

176 _On_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Or.

[SCÆNA SECUNDA.

_A Room at the Court._]

_Enter Henry, Baligny, with sixe of the guard._

_Henry._ Saw you his sawcie forcing of my hand

To D'Ambois freedome?

_Baligny._ Saw, and through mine eyes

Let fire into my heart, that burn'd to beare

An insolence so giantly austere.

_Hen._ The more Kings beare at subjects hands, the more 5

Their lingring justice gathers; that resembles

The waightie and the goodly-bodied eagle,

Who (being on earth) before her shady wings

Can raise her into ayre, a mightie way

Close by the ground she runnes; but being aloft, 10

All shee commands, she flyes at; and the more

Death in her seres beares, the more time shee stayes

Her thundry stoope from that on which shee preyes.

_Bal._ You must be then more secret in the waight

Of these your shadie counsels, who will else 15

Beare (where such sparkes flye as the Guise and D'Ambois)

Pouder about them. Counsels (as your entrailes)

Should be unpierst and sound kept; for not those

Whom you discover you neglect; but ope

A ruinous passage to your owne best hope. 20

_Hen._ Wee have spies set on us, as we on others;

And therefore they that serve us must excuse us,

If what wee most hold in our hearts take winde;

Deceit hath eyes that see into the minde.

But this plot shall be quicker then their twinckling, 25

On whose lids Fate with her dead waight shall lie,

And confidence that lightens ere she die.

Friends of my Guard, as yee gave othe to be

True to your Soveraigne, keepe it manfully.

Your eyes have witnest oft th'ambition 30

That never made accesse to me in Guise

But treason ever sparkled in his eyes;

Which if you free us of, our safetie shall

You not our subjects but our patrons call.

_Omnes._ Our duties binde us; hee is now but dead. 35

_Hen._ Wee trust in it, and thanke ye. Baligny,

Goe lodge their ambush, and thou God, that art

Fautor of princes, thunder from the skies

Beneath his hill of pride this gyant Guise. _Exeunt._

[SCÆNA TERTIA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter Tamyra with a letter, Charlotte in mans attire._

_Tamyra._ I see y'are servant, sir, to my deare sister,

The lady of her loved Baligny.

_Charlotte._ Madame, I am bound to her vertuous bounties

For that life which I offer, in her service,

To the revenge of her renowned brother. 5

_Tam._ She writes to mee as much, and much desires

That you may be the man, whose spirit shee knowes

Will cut short off these long and dull delayes

Hitherto bribing the eternall Justice:

Which I beleeve, since her unmatched spirit 10

Can judge of spirits that have her sulphure in them.

But I must tell you that I make no doubt

Her living brother will revenge her dead,

On whom the dead impos'd the taske, and hee,

I know, will come t'effect it instantly. 15

_Char._ They are but words in him; beleeve them not.

_Tam._ See; this is the vault where he must enter;

Where now I thinke hee is.

_Enter Renel at the vault, with the Countesse being

blinde._

_Renel._ God save you, lady!

What gentleman is this, with whom you trust

The deadly waightie secret of this houre? 20

_Tam._ One that your selfe will say I well may trust.

_Ren._ Then come up, madame. _He helps the Countesse up._

See here, honour'd lady,

A Countesse that in loves mishap doth equall

At all parts your wrong'd selfe, and is the mistresse

Of your slaine servants brother; in whose love, 25

For his late treachrous apprehension,

She wept her faire eyes from her ivory browes,

And would have wept her soule out, had not I

Promist to bring her to this mortall quarrie,

That by her lost eyes for her servants love 30

She might conjure him from this sterne attempt,

In which (by a most ominous dreame shee had)

Shee knowes his death fixt, and that never more

Out of this place the sunne shall see him live.

_Char._ I am provided, then, to take his place 35

And undertaking on me.

_Ren._ You sir, why?

_Char._ Since I am charg'd so by my mistresse,

His mournfull sister.

_Tam._ See her letter, sir. _Hee reades._

Good madame, I rue your fate more then mine,

And know not how to order these affaires, 40

They stand on such occurrents.

_Ren._ This, indeede,

I know to be your lady mistresse hand;

And know besides, his brother will and must

Indure no hand in this revenge but his.

_Enter Umbr[a] Bussy._

_Umbra._ Away, dispute no more; get up, and see! 45

Clermont must auchthor this just tragedie.

_Coun._ Who's that?

_Ren._ The spirit of Bussy.

_Tam._ O my servant!

Let us embrace.

_Umb._ Forbeare! The ayre, in which

My figures liknesse is imprest, will blast.

Let my revenge for all loves satisfie, 50

In which, dame, feare not, Clermont shall not dye.

No word dispute more; up, and see th'event. _Exeunt Ladyes._

Make the guard sure, Renel; and then the doores

Command to make fast, when the Earle is in. _Exit Ren[el]._

The blacke soft-footed houre is now on wing, 55

Which, for my just wreake, ghosts shall celebrate

With dances dire and of infernall state. _Exit._

LINENOTES:

2 _loved_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, lou'd.

4 _her service_. Ed.; Q, her vertuous service;

vertuous, which is obviously hypermetrical, has been

repeated by mistake from the previous line.

47-48. Three lines in Q, broken at _Bussy_, _embrace_,

_which_.

[SCÆNA QUARTA.

_An Ante-room to the Council-Chamber._]

_Enter Guise._

_Guise._ Who sayes that death is naturall, when nature

Is with the onely thought of it dismaid?

I have had lotteries set up for my death,

And I have drawne beneath my trencher one,

Knit in my hand-kerchiefe another lot, 5

The word being, "Y'are a dead man if you enter";

And these words this imperfect bloud and flesh

Shrincke at in spight of me, their solidst part

Melting like snow within mee with colde fire.

I hate my selfe, that, seeking to rule Kings, 10

I cannot curbe my slave. Would any spirit

Free, manly, princely, wish to live to be

Commanded by this masse of slaverie,

Since reason, judgement, resolution,

And scorne of what we feare, will yeeld to feare? 15

While this same sincke of sensualitie swels,

Who would live sinking in it? and not spring

Up to the starres, and leave this carrion here,

For wolfes, and vultures, and for dogges to teare?

O Clermont D'Ambois, wert thou here to chide 20

This softnesse from my flesh, farre as my reason,

Farre as my resolution not to stirre

One foote out of the way for death and hell!

Let my false man by falshood perish here;

There's no way else to set my true man cleere. 25

_Enter Messenger._

_Messenger._ The King desires your Grace to come to Councill.

_Gui._ I come. It cannot be; hee will not dare

To touch me with a treacherie so prophane.

Would Clermont now were here, to try how hee

Would lay about him, if this plot should be: 30

Here would be tossing soules into the skie.

Who ever knew bloud sav'd by treacherie?

Well, I must on, and will; what should I feare?

Not against two, Alcides; against two,

And Hercules to friend, the Guise will goe. 35

_He takes up the Arras, and the Guard enters upon him:

hee drawes._

_Gui._ Holde, murtherers! _They strike him downe._

So then, this is confidence

In greatnes, not in goodnes. Wher is the King?

_The King comes in sight with Es[pernone], Sois[son], &

others._

Let him appeare to justifie his deede,

In spight of my betrai'd wounds; ere my soule

Take her flight through them, and my tongue hath strength 40

To urge his tyrannie.

_Henry._ See, sir, I am come

To justifie it before men and God,

Who knowes with what wounds in my heart for woe

Of your so wounded faith I made these wounds,

Forc't to it by an insolence of force 45

To stirre a stone; nor is a rocke, oppos'd

To all the billowes of the churlish sea,

More beate and eaten with them then was I

With your ambitious, mad idolatrie;

And this bloud I shed is to save the bloud 50

Of many thousands.

_Gui._ That's your white pretext;

But you will finde one drop of bloud shed lawlesse

Will be the fountaine to a purple sea.

The present lust and shift made for Kings lives,

Against the pure forme and just power of law, 55

Will thrive like shifters purchases; there hangs

A blacke starre in the skies, to which the sunne

Gives yet no light, will raine a poyson'd shower

Into your entrailes, that will make you feele

How little safetie lies in treacherous steele. 60

_Hen._ Well, sir, Ile beare it; y'have a brother to

Bursts with like threates, the skarlet Cardinall--

Seeke, and lay hands on him; and take this hence,

Their blouds, for all you, on my conscience! _Exit._

_Gui._ So, sir, your full swindge take; mine death hath curb'd. 65

Clermont, farewell! O didst thou see but this!

But it is better; see by this the ice

Broke to thine owne bloud, which thou wilt despise

When thou hear'st mine shed. Is there no friend here

Will beare my love to him?

_Aumale._ I will, my lord. 70

_Gui._ Thankes with my last breath: recommend me, then,

To the most worthy of the race of men. _Dyes. Exeunt._

[SCÆNA QUINTA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter Monts[urry] and Tamyra._

_Montsurry._ Who have you let into my house?

_Tamyra._ I? none.

_Mont._ Tis false; I savour the rancke bloud of foes

In every corner.

_Tam._ That you may doe well;

It is the bloud you lately shed you smell.

_Mont._ Sdeath! the vault opens. _The gulfe opens._

_Tam._ What vault? hold your sword. 5

_Clermont ascends._

_Clermont._ No, let him use it.

_Mont._ Treason! murther! murther!

_Cler._ Exclaime not; tis in vaine, and base in you,

Being one to onely one.

_Mont._ O bloudy strumpet!

_Cler._ With what bloud charge you her? it may be mine

As well as yours; there shall not any else 10

Enter or touch you: I conferre no guards,

Nor imitate the murtherous course you tooke,

But single here will have my former challenge

Now answer'd single; not a minute more

My brothers bloud shall stay for his revenge, 15

If I can act it; if not, mine shall adde

A double conquest to you, that alone

Put it to fortune now, and use no ods.

Storme not, nor beate your selfe thus gainst the dores,

Like to a savage vermine in a trap: 20

All dores are sure made, and you cannot scape

But by your valour.

_Mont._ No, no, come and kill mee.

_Cler._ If you will die so like a beast, you shall;

But when the spirit of a man may save you,

Doe not so shame man, and a Nobleman. 25

_Mont._ I doe not show this basenesse that I feare thee,

But to prevent and shame thy victory,

Which of one base is base, and so Ile die.

_Cler._ Here, then.

_Mont._ Stay, hold! One thought hath harden'd me,

_He starts up._

And since I must afford thee victorie, 30

It shall be great and brave, if one request

Thou wilt admit mee.

_Cler._ What's that?

_Mont._ Give me leave

To fetch and use the sword thy brother gave mee,

When he was bravely giving up his life.

_Cler._ No; Ile not fight against my brothers sword; 35

Not that I feare it, but since tis a tricke

For you to show your backe.

_Mont._ By all truth, no:

Take but my honourable othe, I will not.

_Cler._ Your honourable othe! Plaine truth no place has

Where othes are honourable.

_Tam._ Trust not his othe. 40

Hee will lie like a lapwing; when shee flyes

Farre from her sought nest, still "Here tis" shee cryes.

_Mont._ Out on thee, damme of divels! I will quite

Disgrace thy bravos conquest, die, not fight. _Lyes downe._

_Tam._ Out on my fortune, to wed such an abject! 45

Now is the peoples voyce the voyce of God;

Hee that to wound a woman vants so much,

As hee did mee, a man dares never touch.

_Cler._ Revenge your wounds now, madame; I resigne him

Up to your full will, since hee will not fight. 50

First you shall torture him (as hee did you,

And justice wils) and then pay I my vow.

Here, take this ponyard.

_Mont._ Sinke earth, open heaven,

And let fall vengeance!

_Tam._ Come sir, good sir, hold him.

_Mont._ O shame of women, whither art thou fled! 55

_Cler._ Why (good my lord) is it a greater shame

For her then you? come, I will be the bands

You us'd to her, prophaning her faire hands.

_Mont._ No, sir, Ile fight now, and the terror be

Of all you champions to such as shee. 60

I did but thus farre dally; now observe.

O all you aking fore-heads that have rob'd

Your hands of weapons and your hearts of valour,

Joyne in mee all your rages and rebutters,

And into dust ram this same race of Furies; 65

In this one relicke of the Ambois gall,

In his one purple soule shed, drowne it all. _Fight._

_Mont._ Now give me breath a while.

_Cler._ Receive it freely.

_Mont._ What thinke y'a this now?

_Cler._ It is very noble,

Had it beene free, at least, and of your selfe; 70

And thus wee see (where valour most doth vant)

What tis to make a coward valiant.

_Mont._ Now I shall grace your conquest.

_Cler._ That you shall.

_Mont._ If you obtaine it.

_Cler._ True, sir, tis in fortune.

_Mont._ If you were not a D'Ambois, I would scarce 75

Change lives with you, I feele so great a change

In my tall spirits breath'd, I thinke, with the breath

A D'Ambois breathes here; and necessitie

(With whose point now prickt on, and so whose helpe

My hands may challenge) that doth all men conquer, 80

If shee except not you of all men onely,

May change the case here.

_Cler._ True, as you are chang'd;

Her power, in me urg'd, makes y'another man

Then yet you ever were.

_Mont._ Well, I must on.

_Cler._ Your lordship must by all meanes.

_Mont._ Then at all. 85

_Fights, and D'Ambois hurts him._

_[Enter Renel, the Countess, and] Charlotte above._

_Charlotte._ Death of my father, what a shame is this!

Sticke in his hands thus! _She gets downe._

_Renel [trying to stop her]._ Gentle sir, forbeare!

_Countess._ Is he not slaine yet?

_Ren._ No, madame, but hurt

In divers parts of him.

_Mont._ Y'have given it me,

And yet I feele life for another vennie. 90

_Enter Charlotte [below]._

_Cler._ What would you, sir?

_Char._ I would performe this combat.

_Cler._ Against which of us?

_Char._ I care not much if twere

Against thy selfe; thy sister would have sham'd

To have thy brothers wreake with any man

In single combat sticke so in her fingers. 95

_Cler._ My sister! know you her?

_Tam._ I, sir, shee sent him

With this kinde letter, to performe the wreake

Of my deare servant.

_Cler._ Now, alas! good sir,

Thinke you you could doe more?

_Char._ Alas! I doe;

And wer't not I, fresh, sound, should charge a man 100

Weary and wounded, I would long ere this

Have prov'd what I presume on.

_Cler._ Y'have a minde

Like to my sister, but have patience now;

If next charge speede not, Ile resigne to you.

_Mont._ Pray thee, let him decide it.

_Cler._ No, my lord, 105

I am the man in fate; and since so bravely

Your lordship stands mee, scape but one more charge,

And, on my life, Ile set your life at large.

_Mont._ Said like a D'Ambois, and if now I die,

Sit joy and all good on thy victorie! 110

_Fights, and fals downe._

_Mont._ Farewell! I hartily forgive thee; wife,

And thee; let penitence spend thy rest of life.

_Hee gives his hand to Cler[mont] and his wife._

_Cler._ Noble and Christian!

_Tam._ O, it breakes my heart.

_Cler._ And should; for all faults found in him before

These words, this end, makes full amends and more. 115

Rest, worthy soule; and with it the deare spirit

Of my lov'd brother rest in endlesse peace!

Soft lie thy bones; Heaven be your soules abode;

And to your ashes be the earth no lode!

_Musicke, and the Ghost of Bussy enters, leading the

Ghost[s] of the Guise, Monsieur, Cardinall Guise, and

Shattilion; they dance about the dead body, and exeunt._

_Cler._ How strange is this! The Guise amongst these spirits, 120

And his great brother Cardinall, both yet living!

And that the rest with them with joy thus celebrate

This our revenge! This certainely presages

Some instant death both to the Guise and Cardinall.

That the Shattilions ghost to should thus joyne 125

In celebration of this just revenge

With Guise that bore a chiefe stroke in his death,

It seemes that now he doth approve the act;

And these true shadowes of the Guise and Cardinall,

Fore-running thus their bodies, may approve 130

That all things to be done, as here wee live,

Are done before all times in th'other life.

That spirits should rise in these times yet are fables;

Though learnedst men hold that our sensive spirits

A little time abide about the graves 135

Of their deceased bodies, and can take,

In colde condenc't ayre, the same formes they had

When they were shut up in this bodies shade.

_Enter Aumall._

_Aumale._ O sir, the Guise is slaine!

_Cler._ Avert it heaven!

_Aum._ Sent for to Councill by the King, an ambush 140

(Lodg'd for the purpose) rusht on him, and tooke

His princely life; who sent (in dying then)

His love to you, as to the best of men.

_Cler._ The worst and most accursed of things creeping

On earths sad bosome. Let me pray yee all 145

A little to forbeare, and let me use

Freely mine owne minde in lamenting him.

Ile call yee straight againe.

_Aum._ We will forbeare,

And leave you free, sir. _Exeunt._

_Cler._ Shall I live, and hee

Dead, that alone gave meanes of life to me? 150

Theres no disputing with the acts of Kings;

Revenge is impious on their sacred persons.

And could I play the worldling (no man loving

Longer then gaine is reapt or grace from him)

I should survive; and shall be wondred at 155

Though (in mine owne hands being) I end with him:

But friendship is the sement of two mindes,

As of one man the soule and body is,

Of which one cannot sever but the other

Suffers a needfull separation. 160

_Ren._ I feare your servant, madame: let's descend.

_Descend Ren[el] & Coun[tess]._

_Cler._ Since I could skill of man, I never liv'd

To please men worldly, and shall I in death

Respect their pleasures, making such a jarre

Betwixt my death and life, when death should make 165

The consort sweetest, th'end being proofe and crowne

To all the skill and worth wee truely owne?

Guise, O my lord, how shall I cast from me

The bands and coverts hindring me from thee?

The garment or the cover of the minde 170

The humane soule is; of the soule, the spirit

The proper robe is; of the spirit, the bloud;

And of the bloud, the body is the shrowd.

With that must I beginne then to unclothe,

And come at th'other. Now, then, as a ship 175

Touching at strange and farre removed shores,

Her men a shore goe, for their severall ends,

Fresh water, victuals, precious stones, and pearle,

All yet intentive, when the master cals,

The ship to put off ready, to leave all 180

Their greediest labours, lest they there be left

To theeves or beasts, or be the countries slaves:

So, now my master cals, my ship, my venture

All in one bottome put, all quite put off,

Gone under saile, and I left negligent 185

To all the horrors of the vicious time,

The farre remov'd shores to all vertuous aimes,

None favouring goodnesse, none but he respecting

Pietie or man-hood--shall I here survive,

Not cast me after him into the sea, 190

Rather then here live, readie every houre

To feede theeves, beasts, and be the slave of power?

I come, my lord! Clermont, thy creature, comes.

_Hee kils himselfe._

_Enter Aumal, Tamyra, Charlotte._

_Aum._ What! lye and languish, Clermont! Cursed man,

To leave him here thus! hee hath slaine himselfe. 195

_Tam._ Misery on misery! O me wretched dame,

Of all that breath! all heaven turne all his eyes

In harty envie thus on one poore dame.

_Char._ Well done, my brother! I did love thee ever,

But now adore thee: losse of such a friend 200

None should survive, of such a brother [none.]

With my false husband live, and both these slaine!

Ere I returne to him, Ile turne to earth.

_Enter Renel leading the Countesse._

_Ren._ Horror of humane eyes! O Clermont D'Ambois!

Madame, wee staid too long, your servant's slaine. 205

_Coun._ It must be so; he liv'd but in the Guise,

As I in him. O follow life mine eyes!

_Tam._ Hide, hide thy snakie head; to cloisters flie;

In pennance pine; too easie tis to die.

_Char._ It is. In cloisters then let's all survive. 210

Madame, since wrath nor griefe can helpe these fortunes,

Let us forsake the world in which they raigne,

And for their wisht amends to God complaine.

_Count._ Tis fit and onely needfull: leade me on;

In heavens course comfort seeke, in earth is none. _Exeunt._ 215

_Enter Henry, Espernone, Soissone, and others._

_Henry._ Wee came indeede too late, which much I rue,

And would have kept this Clermont as my crowne.

Take in the dead, and make this fatall roome

(The house shut up) the famous D'Ambois tombe. _Exeunt._

_FINIS._

LINENOTES:

_opens_. Emended by ed.; Q, opes.

25 _Nobleman_. Two words in Q.

29 _Cler._ _Here, then._ Placed by Q at the end of l.

29.

44 _bravos_. Emended by ed.; Q, braves.

73-74. Three lines in Q, broken at _conquest_, _it_, and

_fortune_.

88-89. Three lines in Q, broken at _yet_, _him_, and _me_.

125 _Shattilions_. Ed.; Q, Shattilians.

144 _accursed_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, accurst.

201 _none_. Added by ed.

210 _Char_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Cler.

Notes to The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois

_For the meaning of single words see the Glossary._

=168. To the right vertuous . . . Sr. Thomas Howard, &c.= Thomas Howard,

born before 1594, was the second son of the first Earl of Suffolk. He

was created a Knight of the Bath in January, 1605, and in May, 1614, was

appointed Master of the Horse to Charles, Prince of Wales. In 1622 he

became Viscount Andover, and in 1626 Earl of Berkshire. He held a number

of posts till the outbreak of the Civil War, and after the Restoration

was appointed Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Charles II, and Privy

Councillor. He died on July 16, 1669. His daughter Elizabeth married

Dryden, and his sixth son, Sir Robert Howard, became distinguished as a

dramatic writer and critic. Chapman addresses to this patron one of the

Sonnets appended to his translation of the _Iliad_, in which he compares

him to Antilochus, and calls him "valiant, and mild, and most

ingenious."

=169=, 35-36. =the most divine philosopher.= The reference is doubtless

to Epictetus, the influence of whose _Discourses_ appears throughout

_The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_.

=174=, 70. =That thinke . . . that=, that do not consider heavenly bliss

complete folly, when compared with money.

=175=, 71-2. =Well . . . arise.= A hypocritical appeal by Baligny to the

absent Duke of Guise, of whose ambitious schemes he suspects Renel to be

a supporter.

=175=, 79-82. =My brother . . . brother.= Cf. _Introduction_, p. xxxvii.

=176=, 97. =stands now on price with him:= is now the subject of

bargaining between him and me.

=178. Monsieur taking leave of the King.= Henry apparently leaves the

stage, after this formal ceremony of farewell, without speaking, for he

takes no part in the dialogue, and he is not mentioned among those who

_exeunt_ at l. 290.

=178=, 145. =See . . . Brabant.= The expedition of the Duke of Anjou

here alluded to is that of 1582, when he was crowned Duke of Brabant at

Antwerp.

=181=, 202-4. =durst . . . lady.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, I, ii, 96-179.

=181=, 204-8. =emptied . . . were.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, III, ii,

478-515.

=182=, 234-5. =When . . . commanders.= Monsieur's description in these

and the following lines of Clermont's and Bussy's first appearance at

Court is purely fictitious.

=183=, 254. =a keele of sea-coale.= A keel was a flat-bottomed boat,

used in the northeast of England, for loading and carrying coal.

Afterwards the word was also used of the amount of coal a keel would

carry, i. e. 8 chaldrons, or 21 tons 4 cwt. Sea-coal was the original

term for the fossil coal borne from Newcastle to London by sea, to

distinguish it from _char-coal_. Cf. Shakespeare, _Merry Wives of

Windsor_, I, iv, 9, "at the latter end of a sea-coal fire."

=184=, 267. =a poore knights living.= The knights of Windsor, a small

body who had apartments in the Castle, and pensions, were often known as

"poor knights."

=185=, 278. =But killing of the King!= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, III, ii,

411.

=188=, 332-3. =Why, is not . . . worthily.= If this is a complimentary

allusion to Jaques' speech in _As You Like It_, II, vii, 140-166, it is

remarkable as coming from the writer whom Shakespeare at an earlier date

had probably attacked in his _Sonnets_.

=188=, 335-42. =what the good Greeke moralist sayes . . . of both.= This

passage is based upon the _Discourses_ of Epictetus, bk. IV, vii, 13,

which, however, Chapman completely misinterprets. Epictetus is

demonstrating that a reasonable being should be able to bear any lot

contentedly. "+theleis penian phere kai gnôsêi ti estin penia tychousa

kalou hypokritou. theleis archas? phere, kai ponous.+"

+hypokritês+ is used here metaphorically, of one who acts a part in

life, not, as Chapman takes it, of an actor in the professional

sense.

=188-189=, 354-5. =The splenative philosopher . . . all.= Democritus.

=189=, 356-74. =All objects . . . they were.= These lines are suggested

by Juvenal's _Satire_, X, ll. 33-55, but they diverge too far from the

original to be merely a paraphrase, as they are termed by the editor of

the 1873 reprint.

=191=, 17-18. =That . . . fire.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, V, iv, 148-53.

=194=, 75. =These . . . armes.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, V, i, 128-154.

=200-201=, 40-3. =Since they . . . wrong'd:= since these decrees ensure

the performance of that guardianship, so that earth and heaven are kept

true to their original order and purpose, in no case must the wrong

suffered by an individual man, as he thinks, be considered really a

wrong done to him.

=203=, 105. =Euphorbus=, son of Panthous, a Trojan hero, who first

wounded Patroclus, but was afterwards slain by Menelaus. Pythagoras, as

part of his doctrine of the transmigration of souls, is said to have

claimed to have been formerly Euphorbus.

=204=, 113-22. =What said . . . power.= The reference is to Sophocles'

_Antigone_, 446-457, where the Princess justifies herself for burying

her brother's body in defiance of Creon's edict.

=205=, 135-6. =For . . . authoritie.= The lines here paraphrased, to

which Chapman gives a marginal reference, are from the _Antigone_,

175-7.

+Amêchanon de pantos andros ekmathein

psychên te kai phronêma kai gnômên, prin ain

archais te kai nomoisin entribês phainêi.+

=205=, 141. =virtuosi.= The word is here used not in the sense of

_connoisseurs_, but of _devotees of virtue_. The editor has not been

able to trace any other instance of this.

=206=, 157-60. =that lyons . . . prey.= Adapted and expanded from the

_Discourses_ of Epictetus, bk. IV, i, 25. The original of the words

quoted marginally by Chapman in a Latin version is, +ouchi d' hosôi

malakôteron diexagei, tosoutôi doulikôteron?+

=207=, 181. =Simil[iter].= By this marginal reference Chapman seems to

indicate that ll. 176-181 are drawn from the same source--the

_Discourses_ of Epictetus--as ll. 157-160, to which the previous

marginal note refers. But no such passage occurs in the _Discourses_.

=209-210=, 205-34 =The Massacre . . . never massacerd.= On this strange

_apologia_ for the Guise's share in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, see

_Introduction_, pp. xxxix-xl.

=209-210=, 211-32. =Who was in fault . . . lost.= Freely adapted and

transposed from the _Discourses_ of Epictetus, I, xxviii, 11-20.

=210-211=, 246-9. =your brave . . . deere.= Cf. Appendix B, where De

Serres mentions the Count of Auvergne's "Scottish horse (which Vitry had

given him) the which would have outrunne all the horses of France."

=213=, 5-6. =th'insulting Pillars Of Bacchus and Alcides.= These

"Pillars" are mentioned together by Strabo (bk. III, vi), who relates

that during Alexander's expedition to India the Macedonians did not see

them, but identified those places with them, where they found records of

the god or the hero.

=216=, 69-70. =What thinke . . . lackies coates.= Cf. Appendix B, where

Nerestan has _three_ "lackquaies," who are in reality "soldiars so

attyred" for the purpose of arresting the Count of Auvergne.

=217=, 82-6. =Who knowes . . . made:= who is unaware that crafty policy

pads out the giant that does his will, so that his wisdom may seem

commensurate with his bulk, though it is merely for a trifling encounter

with what, when touched, proves a shadow, though policy makes it out to

be a monster.

=219=, 12. =The Locrian princes.= The inhabitants of Locri, a settlement

near the promontory of Zephyrium, were celebrated for the excellence of

their code of laws, drawn up by Zaleucus.

=220=, 41-46. =Demetrius Phalerius=, born about B. C. 345, was a

follower of Phocion, and on the death of the latter in B. C. 317, became

head of the Athenian administration. The citizens, in gratitude for his

services, erected 360 statues to him, but afterwards turned against him.

In B. C. 307 he was driven from Athens, sentence of death was passed on

him, and the statues were demolished.

=220=, 47. =Demades=, a contemporary of Demosthenes, who, by his genius

for extempore oratory, raised himself to a predominant position in

Athens as a champion of the Macedonian influence, but afterwards

incurred the penalty of +atimia+.

=228-230=, 209-34. =I will search you . . . search no more.= This

episode is suggested by the following passage concerning the Count of

Auvergne in Appendix B. "Hee was ready to call the two brothers of Murat

into his cabinet, and to cause them to be searcht, for that he was well

advertised that they alwayes carryed the Kings letters and his

commandments. But a great resolution, thinking that there is no more

harme in fearing, then in the thing that causeth feare, feares extremely

to make shewe that hee hath any feare."

=233=, 24. =Two . . . Hercules.= A proverbial expression. Cf. V, iv,

34-5.

=234=, 14-25. =When Homer . . . despis'd.= The editor of the 1873

edition of Chapman's Plays points out that "these twelve lines headed

_Of great men_ appear, with a few unimportant verbal differences, among

the Epigrams printed at the end of Chapman's Petrarch in 1612."

=234=, 20. =for disposing these:= for regulating these gifts of fame,

strength, noble birth, and beauty. _These_ is used loosely to qualify

the nouns implied by the adjectives, _Strong'st_, _noblest_, _fairest_,

in l. 19.

=236=, 56-7. =You can . . . minde.= If the text is correct, the lines

mean: you can never find means to give attention to externals without

neglecting the improvement of your mind. Mr. Brereton has suggested to

the editor that the true reading may be, _Things out worth care_, in

which case "out" = "outward."

=236=, 58-75. =God . . . birth.= A free paraphrase of the _Discourses_

of Epictetus, bk. IV, vii, 6-11.

=236=, 78-9. =But . . . honour=, but the reason alleged, to see these

battalions in review order, is a great compliment to you.

=237=, 84-95. =I over-tooke . . . the Earle of Oxford.= The subject of

this remarkable encomium was Edward de Vere (1550-1604), seventeenth

Earl of Oxford. He was educated at Cambridge, and from an early age

became a prominent figure at the Court of Elizabeth, who, it was said in

1573, "delighteth more in his personage, and his dancing and

valiantness, than any other." In 1575 he paid a visit to Italy, and it

is apparently to an episode on his return journey in the spring of 1576

that reference is made here, and in the following lines. The portrait

here drawn of him is too flattering, as he was violent in temper and

extravagant, but the Earl's literary gifts merited the praise of

Chapman. Puttenham and Meres speak highly of him as a writer of comedy,

and Webbe pays a tribute to his excellence in "the rare devises of

poetry." Over twenty of his lyrics survive, chiefly in anthologies.

=237=, 95-103. =being offer'd . . . quit.= The _Duke Cassimere_ here

spoken of was John Casimir, Count Palatine, who in the autumn of 1575

entered into alliance with the Huguenots and invaded France, but, after

suffering a check at the hands of the Duke of Guise, made a truce and

retired. The incident here spoken of apparently took place in the spring

of the next year (cf. the previous note). Why, however, does Chapman

introduce it here, and how did he know of it? Can he, immediately after

leaving Oxford, which he entered, according to Wood, "in 1574 or

thereabouts," have gone in Oxford's train to the Continent?

=238=, 112. =a Sir John Smith.= Though alluded to in so contemptuous a

way, this Sir John Smith appears to be the noted soldier of fortune,

diplomatist, and military writer, who lived from about 1534 to 1607.

After serving for many years in continental armies, in 1574 he became an

agent of the English government, and took part in various diplomatic

missions. In 1590 he published "Certain Discourses concerning the formes

and effects of divers sorts of Weapons" and dedicated the work to the

English nobility, whom he calls in one part of his "proeme" the "verie

eyes, eares and language of the king, and the bodie of the watch, and

redresse of the Commonwealth." Hence perhaps the allusion in l. 113 to

"common Nobles fashions."

=238-9=, 127-41. =If you would Consull be . . . no thought?= A

translation of the _Discourses_ of Epictetus, bk. IV, x, 20-22.

=238-9=, 129-30. =gloryfying Plebeians, Kissing Patricians hands.=

Epictetus has simply, +tas cheiras kataphilêsai+.

=239=, 134. =sit for the whole tribunall.= A mistranslation of +epi

bêma kathisai+, i. e. "sit on the tribunal."

=239=, 138-9. =And to be voide . . . constancie.= An obscure rendering

of +hyper apatheias oun, hyper ataraxias+. _For constancie_ = for the

sake of tranquillity of mind.

=240=, 152. =Colonell.= Clermont seems to be addressed by this title

because of the statement in Appendix B that "D'Eurre intreated the count

of Auvergne to see [the muster] to the ende . . . that all his

companions should be wonderfully honored with the presence of their

coronell."

=242-3=, 11-39. =What spirit . . . of the skie.= This account of

Clermont's desperate struggle to avoid capture is an invention of

Chapman. P. Matthieu says of the Count of Auvergne: "It was feared that

he would not have suffered himselfe to bee taken so easily nor so

quietly." Cf. Appendix B.

=245=, 77. ="Who . . . none."= Cf. III, ii, 242.

=245=, 80-5. =But . . . more.= Cf. Appendix B. "Hee was mooved to see

himselfe so intreated by laquais, intreating D'Eurre . . . that hee

might not see those rascals any more."

=246=, 99. =organe of his danger:= instrument of his dangerous designs.

=246=, 109. =To leave . . . trumpets.= Cf. Appendix B. "'Well,' said

hee, 'I yeeld, what will you have mee to doe?' 'That you mount upon the

trompets horse,' sayd D'Eurre."

=247=, 112-24. =let mee begge . . . rather die.= Cf. Appendix B. "He

intreated D'Eurre to lend him one of his troupe to carry some message of

his remembrance, and of his miserie, to a ladie that attended him. . . .

Shee loved him well, and was well beloved: for the Count of Auvergne

hath been heard say, that if the King did set him at libertie and send

him back to his house, uppon condition that he should not see this

ladie, hee would rather desire to die."

=250=, 30. =Something . . . goe.= An obscure line. It seems to mean

that, as the wealth of merchants may be scattered by storms, so the

performances of "state-merchants" or rulers may be cut short before

obtaining their end.

=254=, 44-5. =let . . . danger:= let them be afraid that the precedents

set by Kings in violating obligations may prove a dangerous example.

=255=, 70-76. =O knew I . . . a pistoll.= Cf. Appendix B. "If I knew . .

. that I might save him, in forcing through your troupe, I would

willingly doe it, and if I had but tenne men of my courage and

resolution, you should not carrie him where you thinke. But I will never

die till I have given D'Eurre a hundred shott with a pistoll, and to

Murat a hundred blowes with a sword."

=256=, 87. =Exit Ancil[la].= i. e. Riova, the Countess's waiting-maid.

=257=, 108. =This . . . charge.= The thrifty Usher is apparently

deploring that the Countess, before retiring, had sent so rich a gift of

jewels to Clermont.

=259=, 42-3. =this Senecall man . . . compare.= He is so completely a

Senecall man that he may be compared with, etc.

=259=, 51-3. =Cacusses . . . still.= The legend of the Italian shepherd

and robber Cacus, who carried his plunder to his cave or "den," is told

by Ovid (_Fasti_, I, 544 ff.), Virgil (_Æneid_, VIII, 190 ff.), and

other writers.

=260=, 57-8. =Better . . . thrive:= it were better for a man to be

buried alive than exist as a mere property for a despoliating government

to grow rich upon.

=265=, 98-102. =the late . . . on him.= It is singular that _Bussy

D'Ambois_ contains no such "dying prophesie" as is here alluded to,

unless the reference is to V, iv, 76-78. Bussy, as he dies, forgives his

murderers (V, iv, 112).

=267=, 37-9. =Hast thou . . . Reimes.= Cf. Appendix B. "At the

Barricades this voice was heard: 'It is no longer time to dally, let us

lead my lord to Reimes.'"

=268=, 53. =The cause alike doth.= The same cause doth.

=268=, 55-61. =which . . . counsailes.= Cf. Appendix B. "Advertisements

were come to him from all parts, both within and without the realme,

from Rome, Spaine, Lorraine, and Savoye, that a bloodie catastrophe

would dissolve the assemblie."

=268-69=, 62-8. =Retyre . . . exhale.= Cf. Appendix B. "The Archbishop

of Lion . . . 'Retyring yourselfe from the Estates' (said he unto him)

'you shall beare the blame to have abandoned France in so important an

occasion, and your enemies, making their profit of your absence, wil

sone overthrowe al that which you have with so much paine effected for

the assurance of religion.'"

=270=, 89-91. =To be . . . eternitie:= to be His image is to do the

deeds that confer immortality, which, owing to the existence of death,

consists only in doing the deeds that befit eternal life.

=270=, 102. =Thou dream'st awake now.= Guise here turns Clermont's own

words in l. 41 against him.

=272=, 144-8. =those loveliest eyes . . . teares.= A much more

overwhelming calamity than that which befell the lady in the original

narrative, where it is stated that owing to her "passion . . . she lost

the sight of one eye for a tyme."

=276=, 18-19. =for not . . . neglect:= for the counsels that you

disclose you do not render of no account.

=278=, 29. =this mortal quarrie:= this deadly attack. _Quarry_ is

generally used of slaughtered game, but it also signifies the attack or

swoop of the bird or beast of prey on its victim, and here we have an

extension of this sense.

=280=, 3-6. =I . . . enter.= Chapman here combines two episodes assigned

by De Serres to different days. Cf. Appendix B. "The eve before his

death, the Duke himselfe sitting down to dinner, found a scroule under

his napkin, advertising him of this secret ambush." On the following

morning "the Duke of Guise comes, and attending the beginning of the

councell sends for a handkercher. . . . Pericart, his secretarie . . .

ties a note to one of the corners thereof, saying, 'Come forth and save

your selfe, else you are but a dead man.'"

=281=, 34-5. =Not . . . goe.= Taken in conjunction with III, iii, 24,

this means: Hercules is no match for two foes, but Guise will encounter

two, though with Hercules as their ally.

=283=, 61-3. =y'have a brother to . . . on him.= Louis de Lorraine,

youngest brother of the Duke of Guise, became Archbishop of Rheims in

1574, and Cardinal in 1578.

=286=, 33-4. =the sword . . . life.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, V, iv,

114-118.

=286=, 41-2. =Hee will lie . . . shee cryes.= This habit of the lapwing

gave the bird an evil reputation as a symbol of deceitfulness. Cf.

_Measure for Measure_, I, iv, 32.

Though 'tis my familiar sin

With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest,

Tongue far from heart.

For a sarcastic hit at a different trick of the lapwing, cf. _Hamlet_,

V, ii, 174.

=289=, 85. =[Enter Renel, the Countess, and] Charlotte above.= The

addition of the bracketed words is necessary, as the Q gives no

indication of the entrance of these two characters. They appear with

Charlotte "above," i. e. in a gallery at the back of the stage. When

Charlotte, enraged at Clermont's slowness in dispatching Montsurry,

"gets downe" (l. 87), they remain in the gallery unobserved.

=291=, 125-7. =That the Shatillions ghost . . . death.= Gaspar de

Chatillon, better known as Admiral de Coligny, the champion of the

Huguenot party, was murdered during "the Massacre of St. Bartholomew,"

on Aug. 24, 1572, at the instigation of the Duke of Guise.

=293=, 161. =I . . . descend.= Renel and the Countess have overheard

from the gallery (cf. note on l. 85) Clermont's speech, and Renel,

realising that it foreshadows suicide, descends in the hope of

preventing this. But, as he has to lead his blind companion, his

progress is slow, and when they "enter" the main stage (l. 203), it is

too late.

APPENDIX A

DE LA MORT PITOYABLE DU VALEUREUX LYSIS

Under this title, in the 17th of the series of tales founded on fact

which he calls _Les Histoires Tragiques de Nostre Temps_, François de

Rosset relates in 1615 the story of Bussy's death. In the Preface to the

volume he declares: "Ce ne sont pas des contes de l'Antiquité fabuleuse

. . . Ce sont des histoires autant veritables que tristes et funestes.

Les noms de la pluspart des personnages sont seulement desguisez en ce

Théatre, à fin de n'affliger pas tant les familles de ceux qui en ont

donné le suject, puis qu'elles en sont assez affligées." We thus find

that the outlines of the story of "Lysis" tally with what we know about

Bussy from other sources, and Rosset not improbably preserves details

omitted by the historians of the period.

Lysis, Rosset tells us, was sprung from one of the most noble and

renowned Houses of France. At seventeen he had acquired an extraordinary

reputation for bravery, which increased till "jamais la France depuis le

valeureux Roland, ne porta un tel Palladin." Afterwards "il vint à la

cour du Prince qui venoit de quiter une Couronne estrangere, pour

recevoir celle qui luy appartenoit par les droits de la loy Salique, [i.

e. Henry III, who gave up the throne of Poland on succeeding to that of

France.] . . . Les rares dons dont il estoit accomply luy acquirent tant

de part aux bonnes graces du premier Prince du sang Royal, qu'il estoit

tousiours aupres de luy. . . . Mais l'envie . . . tous les jours . . .

faisait de mauvais rapports a sa Maiesté de Lysis, de sorte qu'elle le

voyoit d'aussi mauvais oeil, que l'autre Prince, son proche parent,

faisoit conte de sa prouësse."

He had never been the victim of love, but he was instantly captivated by

the beautiful eyes of a lady whom he met at an assembly at the house of

a Judge in one of the towns of which he was Governor.

"Ceste beauté, pour le respect que je dois à ceux a qui elle

appartenoit, sera nommée Sylvie. . . . Cette dame . . . estoit mariée

avec un grand Seigneur, jeune, vaillan, sage, discret et courtois." She

would not at first gratify her lover's passion, though she granted him

"de petites privautez," which only fanned the flame. He wrote her a

letter in which he declared that if she refused him her favour, it meant

his sentence of death. She replied in a temporising manner that when he

had given proofs of his fidelity, she would decide as to what she ought

to do. Rosset asserts that these two letters are not invented, but that

he obtained them from a friend who had made a collection of such

epistles, and who "a esté curieux de sçavoir le nom des personnes qui

les ont escrites."

Meanwhile, he continues, "elle donne le vray moyen à Lysis de la voir,

sans le souciet qu'on en parle, pourveu que sa conscience la deffende.

Et particulierement ce fut en un jardin qui est à l'un des fauxbourgs de

la ville." Some tale-bearers, putting the worst construction on their

behaviour, gave information to Lisandre, the husband of Sylvie, but he

refused to credit anything to the dishonour of his wife. To stop gossip,

however, he took her with him to a house he had not far from the town.

But the lovers communicated with one another by messengers, till

Lisandre's departure on a journey removed all obstacle to their

intercourse. "Ce Seigneur avait des affaires hors de la province où il

faisoit pour lors sa demeure. Pour les terminer, il s'y achemine au

grand contentement de Sylvie, qui neantmoins contrefaisoit la dolente à

son depart & le sommoit de revenir le plustot qu'il luy seroit possible,

tandis que dans son ame elle prioit à Dieu que son voyage fust aussi

long que celuy d'Ulysse." When he was gone, she immediately sent for

Lysis, and they spent two or three days in transports of delight, though

she continued to safeguard her honour.

On Lisandre's return the King, instigated by the enemies of Lysis,

reproached the former for tamely enduring dishonour, and bade him never

reappear in the royal presence till he had wiped out the stain. Lisandre

therefore offered his wife the choice of three courses. She was to

swallow poison, or die beneath his dagger, or write to Lysis, telling

him that Lisandre was still absent, and begging him to come to her.

After a struggle Sylvie wrote the fatal missive, and Lysis, though at

the castle gate he was overcome by a premonition of evil and almost

turned back, was obedient to her summons, and entered her chamber

unarmed. The final scene is thus described.

"A l'instant il se void environné d'une douzaine d'hommes armez, qui de

pistolets, qui d'espees nues, et qui de hallebardes. Lisandre est parmy

eux, qui luy crie: 'C'est maintenant que tu recevras le salaire de la

honte que tu as faicte à ma maison. Ce disant, il lasche un pistolet, et

luy perce un bras. Les autres le chargent avec leurs halebardes, et avec

leurs espees. . . . Le valeureux Lysis . . . avec un escabeau qu'il

tient en main donne si rudement sur la teste de l'un de ses adversaires,

qu'il en fait sortir la cervelle. Il en assomme encores deux autres:

mais que peut-il faire contre tant de gens, & ainsi desarmé qu'il est?

Son corps percé comme un crible, verse un grand ruisseau de sang. En fin

il se jette sur Lisandre, et bien que par derriere on luy baille cent

coups de poignards, il le prend, et le souleve, prest à le jetter du

haut en bas d'une fenestre, si tous les autres ensemble, en se jettant

sur luy, ne l'en eussent empesché. Il les escarte encores à coups de

poings & neantmoins il sesent tousiours percer de part en part. Voyant

qu'il ne pouvoit eschapper la mort, il s'approche de la fenestre & puis,

tout sanglant qu'il est, il saute legerement en bas. Mais, ô malheur, il

portoit un accoustrement decouppé, qui est arresté par le fer d'un

treillis. Ses adversaires le voyant ainsi empestré comme un autre

Absalon, luy donnent tant de coups de halebardes, qu'à la fin, ils

privent le monde du plus grand courage, et de la plus grande valeur du

siecle. O valeureux Lysis! que je plains l'injustice de ton sort!"

It will be seen that Rosset's account of the final episodes, beginning

with the intervention of the King, agrees, in the main details, with the

following description by De Thou, which appeared in 1620, in the Genevan

edition of the _Historiae Sui Temporis_, lib. LXVIII, p. 330 (vol. III,

p. 675, of Buckley's edition, 1733).

"Dum[310:1] adhuc Andinus in aula esset, literas per jocum regi

ostenderat a Ludovico Claramontio Ambosiano Bussio ad se scriptas;

quibus, pro summa quae ei cum hero suo juvene erat familiaritate,

significabat se feram magni venatoris (ita uxorem vocabat Caroli Cambii

Monsorelli comitis, quem ea dignitate Andinus paulo ante Bussii

commendatione ornaverat) indagine cinxisse, et in plagas conjecisse.

Quas literas rex retinuerat, et Bussii jam a longo tempore insolenti

arrogantia et petulantia irritatus, occasionem inde sumpsit veteres ab

eo acceptas injurias ulciscendi. Is siquidem, et dum in aula esset,

nullo non contumeliae genere in proceres et gynaeceum etiam aulicum usus

fuerat, fiducia pugnacitatis qua se terribilem cunctis reddiderat; sed

etiam postquam se ad comitatum Andini receperat, dum Andegavi arcem toto

illo tractu munitissimam et urbi populosae impositam teneret, oppidanis

et toti provinciae gravis ob crebras exactiones, quas privata

auctoritate, non consulto plerumque Andino ipso, faciebat, summum omnium

odium in se concitaverat. Igitur rex Monsorellum, qui tunc forte in aula

erat, clam revocat, et literas Bussii ei ostendit; additque se decoris

familiae et ejus dignitatis perquam studiosum, noluisse rem adeo

injuriosam eum celare; ceterum scire ipsum debere, quid consilii in tali

occasione se capere deceat et oporteat. Nec plura elocutus hominem

dimittit, qui, non solum injuriae tantae morsu perculsus, sed monitis

regis incitatus, quae ille tanquam ignaviae exprobationem si injuriam

ferret accipiebat, protinus domum revolat, summo silentio, ut Bussium

lateret: astuque per uxorem ad Bussium literas dari curat, quibus ei

horam ad secretum Coustanteriae condicebat; ea erat arx voluptuaria et

venationibus opportuna; ad quam cum Bussius cum Colladone conscio sub

vesperam XIV Kal. Sept. venisset, ab ipso Monsorello et aliis loricatis

oppressus: tamen, qua erat animi praesentia, quamvis unus contra plures,

summa vi percussores initio disjecit; tandemque numero victus, spiritu

inter certandum deficiente, cum se in fossam per fenestram praecipitare

vellet, a tergo interfectus est."

FOOTNOTES:

[310:1] While the Duke of Anjou was still at Court, he had shown in jest

to the King, a letter which had been written to him by Louis de Clermont

Bussy d'Ambois. In this letter, owing to the very intimate terms on

which he stood with his young patron, he told him that he had enclosed

and caught in his net the hind of a mighty hunter. Thus he termed the

wife of Charles de Chambes, Count of Montsoreau, on whom the Duke had

conferred that title a short time before, at the recommendation of

Bussy. This letter the King had kept, and as he had long been annoyed by

Bussy's insolent arrogance and his petulant temper, he availed himself

of this opportunity of avenging the old insults he had received from

him. Even while he was at Court, he had been guilty of every sort of

insult to nobles and Court ladies, trusting to his prowess as a

swordsman, by which he made himself a terror to every one. So also after

he had betaken himself to the district of Anjou, occupying, as he did,

the citadel of Angers, the most powerful stronghold in all that

district, and commanding the populous city, he had made himself a burden

to the townspeople and the whole province by his frequent exactions,

generally made on his own authority, without consulting the Duke of

Anjou. He had thus stirred up against himself a deep-seated and

universal hatred.

Therefore the King secretly called aside Montsoreau, who was then at

Court, and showed him Bussy's letter, and added that, as he was

extremely solicitous about his family honour and his dignity, he did not

wish to conceal so insulting a matter from him; for the rest he ought to

know himself what measures it behoved him to take under such

circumstances. Without further words he dismissed Montsoreau. The Count,

stung to the quick by so grave an injury to his honour, and excited by

the admonitions of the King, which he interpreted as reproaches for his

cowardice, should he tamely bear the insult, at once flew home, in the

greatest secrecy, so that Bussy should not know of his return. By a

stratagem he arranged that a letter should be sent by his wife to Bussy,

making a secret assignation with him at La Coutancière, which was a

pleasure-resort and convenient for hunting purposes. When Bussy came

there with his associate Colasseau at nightfall on the nineteenth of

August, he was fallen upon by Montsoreau and other armed men. Yet, such

was his coolness, that though he was one against many, he at first by

mighty exertions discomfited his assailants. At length, overcome by

numbers, and breath failing him in the struggle, he tried to throw

himself out of the window into the castle-moat, but was stabbed in the

back and killed.

APPENDIX B

HISTORICAL SOURCES OF THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS

I

PIERRE MATTHIEU'S NARRATIVE OF THE ARREST OF THE COUNT D'AUVERGNE,

INCORPORATED BY EDWARD GRIMESTON IN HIS TRANSLATION OF JEAN DE SERRES'S

INVENTAIRE GÉNÉRAL DE L'HISTOIRE DE FRANCE

(1046.)[313:1] "The King offended with the practises of the Count of

Auvergne, commanded him to come unto him, and to trust unto his

clemency, the which was not unknowne unto him. Descures made some

jorneys unto him, from whome he brought nothing but delaies and excuses.

. . .

(1047.) "The King, therefore, seeing that he would not come but with

conditions that did not agree with a perfect obedience, resolved to have

him by one means or other. . . . The King's intention was imparted to

the Vicont of Pont du Chasteau, to D'Eurre, Lieutenant of the Duke of

Vandosmes company, to the Baron of Camilac, to La Boulaye, Lieutenant to

the company of the Marquis of Verneuil, to Nerestan, Colonell of a

Regiment of foote, and to so many others as it is a wonder it was not

divulged being in so many heads. In this action all shewed the duties

and affections of good men which respected their honours. Many means

were attempted but they were incountred with great difficulties and

crosses. . . . The surest meanes (& that wherein there was least trouble

and scandall) was the mustring of the Duke of Vandosmes company. . . .

D'Eurre who prest Murat (Treasorer extraordinary of the warres) to paie

his company a muster, intreated the count of Auvergne to see it, to the

ende hee might assure the King that hee had gallant men and good horses,

and that all his companions should be wonderfully honored with the

presence of their coronell. 'I will part to morrowe' sayd the Count of

Auvergne 'to hunt at Alezou, and will returne againe on Monday at night;

I pray you bee heere at super, and lodge your company at Normain, to the

ende that the next day, after that wee have dronke, runne at the ring,

and dined, we may see it.'

(1048.) "This was done as he had appointed. . . . D'Eurre came to

Clermont on Monday at night, and goes unto him where he supped in one of

their houses that managed this businesse. . . . The next day, the ninth

of November, the morning was spent in running at the ring. . . . They

went to dinner, and it was well observed that the Count of Auvergne had

some distrust. He hath since confest that hee was ready to call the two

brothers of Murat into his cabinet, and to cause them to be searcht, for

that he was well advertised that they alwayes carryed the Kings letters

and his commandments. But a great resolution, thinking that there is no

more harme in fearing then in the thing that causeth feare, feares

extremely to make shewe that hee hath any feare. After dinner D'Eurre

asked, 'If it pleased him to go to horse to see the musters.' He

answered him; 'That it should be presently, and that he should use

speed.' He retyred himselfe soone after into his cabinet and went downe

. . . mounted upon a Scottish horse (which Vitry had given him) the

which would have outrunne all the horses of France. He would not attend

the other noblemen for that he distrusted them, having an intent to

passe on, if he found them not ready. But beeing come to the place, he

found the company in battell. This great diligence made him somewhat

jealous, and they might perceive him, that, pulling up his cloake, he

drewe his sword foure fingers out, yet without any amazement. D'Eurre,

seeing him make even the reynes of his horse, came to him trotting, with

his hat in his hand, and hearing him sweare with a great oath that he

had been very dilligent, 'You may see, my lord' (answered he) 'I have

caused my companions to advance, for that I would not trouble you with

attendance.' 'Monsieur D'Eurre' (replyed the Earle) 'you are one of my

friends, I cannot make any long stay here.' To whome D'Eurre said: 'All

my companions are not yet here, but, if it please you, you shall see

this troupe, and judge of the whole by a part.' Hereupon he sees some

horsemen come and demands what they were. D'Eurre told him: 'That it was

Nerestan, who had beene at Rion about a sute of his daughters.' He

beleeved it, for he knewe that Nerestan had stayd some dayes at Rion and

yet his heart began to suspect more. But it was too late, hee was

environed on every side, and hardly can one resist many. Nerestan

lighted to salute him, and having entertayned him with some discourse

uppon the occasion of his staye at Rion, or of his returne to Court, he

went presently to horse-back, and thrust on one of the lackquaies with

his foote, for a signe and token of the beginning of the execution.

"One of Nerestans three lackquaies takes holde of his horse by the

bridle. D'Eurre, seeing that Nerestan had taken the right side to salute

the Count of Auvergne, went unto the left, and laying hold with his hand

uppon the hilt of his sword, he sayd unto him that hee had commandement

from the King to take him. The other two laquais pulled him so roughly

from his horse, as he had like to have fallen to the ground; hee was

mooved to see himselfe so intreated by laquais, intreating D'Eurre to

cause two of his companions to light, and that hee might not see those

rascalls any more. Nerestan sayd unto him that they were soldiars so

attyred to serve the King in this action. A peece shott into the ayre by

chance made him to doubt worse measure, so as hee intreated D'Eurre that

he would not use his pistolet. D'Eurre freed him from these

apprehensions, intreating him to resolve upon the Kings will, and not to

force them to intreat him otherwise than they desired. 'Well,' said hee,

'I yeeld, what will you have mee to doe?' 'That you mount upon the

trompets horse,' sayd D'Eurre. It was feared that he would not have

suffered himselfe to bee taken so easily nor so quietly, as wee have

seene many great courages choose rather to be cut in peeces then to see

themselves reserved for some shamefull end, and others that have

willingly dyed, for that they would not die by force. When as he sees

himselfe in the toyles invironed on al sides . . . hee sayd, 'Ah! in the

Divels name, I doubted all this.' Being mounted upon the trompets nagg,

they conduct him presently to Aigueperse. Before hee had gone a hundred

paces, he intreated D'Eurre to lend him one of his troupe, to carry some

message of his remembrance, and of his miserie, to a ladie that attended

him. De Pleche had the charge. Shee who had not prepared her heart to

withstand the assaults of a most extreame and sensible griefe, tooke

D'Eurre for the object, against whome shee poured forth the furie of her

passions. 'If I knew' (sayd shee unto this gentleman) 'that I might save

him in forcing through your troupe, I would willingly doe it, and if I

had but tenne men of my courage and resolution, you should not carrie

him where you thinke. But I will never die till I have given D'Eurre a

hundred shott with a pistoll, and to Murat a hundred blowes with a

sword.' These were the passions of her love, transported with a

resolution beyond her sexe, and which did participate of a man, of a

troubled mind, and of love. This last makes miracles of marvells and

marvells of miracles, in wills that are equally toucht with his

inspirations. . . . Shee loved him well, and was well beloved: for the

Count of Auvergne hath been heard say, that if the King did set him at

libertie, and send him back to his house, uppon condition that hee

should not see this ladie, hee would rather desire to die. Shee

presently ordered the affaires of her house, the disposition of her

furniture, and the retreat of her servants. This passion going from the

memorie to the thought, from the thought to the heart, from the heart to

the eyes, made her to powre forth so many teares, as shee lost the sight

of one eye for a tyme. . . .

"All the way hee seemed no more afflicted, then when hee was at

libertie. He tould youthfull and idle tales of his love, and the

deceiving of ladies. Hee shott in a harquebuse at birds, wherein hee was

so perfect and excellent, as hee did kill larkes as they were flying. .

. .

(1050.) "We may observe in this apprehension many things that may breed

admiration and amazement, and which shewe that men do in vaine furnish

themselves with wisedome against Heaven and with intelligences against

the King. The Count of Auvergne had advertisements from all places that

they should take him, and that the Kings pensioners were in the field to

that effect. His most inward and neerest friends and, among others

Florac, knewe it, and said nothing unto him, preferring his duty to his

Prince before all affection. The Constable was also as well informed

thereof as any other and yet he made no shewe thereof. . . . His duty

prescribed him a law to all the bounds of nature; so there is not any

one but is more bound to the service of the King and his country then

to his owne health, or to that of his children. A gentleman, being at

his table, speaking of this taking, said, 'Sir, if the King should

command mee to take you, I would doe it, although I bee your most humble

servant, that you march in the first rankes of greatnesse in the realm,

and that all things touching armes, depend upon your commandments.' 'I

beleeve it' (answered the Constable) 'else you should do ill, for the

King is both your King and mine. I am your friend.' There is no love nor

affection to dispence any one from the Kings commandments."

II

GRIMESTON'S TRANSLATION OF J. DE SERRES'S NARRATIVE OF THE MURDER OF THE

DUKE OF GUISE IN HIS INVENTAIRE GENERAL

The King determines to get rid of Guise, "this newe starre in the East

whom the people worshipped already." (722.) "Hee hath caused bookes to

bee printed in favour of the lawfull succession of the House of Lorraine

to the Crowne. At the Barricades this voice was heard: 'It is no longer

time to dally, let us lead my lord to Reimes.' He hath suffered himselfe

to be saluted by the people, with cries and acclamations which belong

only to the Soveraigne Prince."

The Duke, scenting danger, thinks of absenting himself from the meetings

of the Estates, but is dissuaded.

(723.) "The Archbishop of Lion, attending a Cardinals hatt within a few

dayes from Rome, 'Retyring your selfe from the Estates' (said he unto

him) 'you shall beare the blame to have abandoned France in so important

an occasion, and your enemies, making their profit of your absence, wil

sone overthrowe al that which you have with so much paine effected for

the assurance of religion.'

"Man doth often loose his judgement upon the point of his fal.

Advertisements were come to him from all parts, both within and without

the realme, from Rome, Spaine, Lorraine and Savoye, that a bloodie

catastrophe would dissolve the assemblie. The almanakes had well

observed it: it was generally bruted in the Estates, that the execution

should be on Saint Thomas day. The eve before his death, the Duke

himselfe sitting downe to dinner, found a scroule under his napkin,

advertising him of this secret ambush. But (as ambition blinds those

whome shee hath raised up to the pies nest, and the furie of Gods

judgements confounds such as trust in their authoritie) he writ

underneath, with his owne hand 'They dare not'; and threw it under the

table.

"The Duke of Guise, following the councell of the Cardinall Morosin, had

the one and twentith of December incensed the King a new by some bold

and presumptous speeches. . . . The King had the two and twentith day

following prepared seven of his five and fortie (they were gentlemen

whome hee had appointed to be neere his person, besides the ordinarie

archers of his gard) to execute his will, and by many dispatches had

assured those townes which hee held to bee most mutinous. The three and

twentith he assembles his Councell somewhat more early in the morning

then was usuall, having a devotion to go after dinner, and to spend the

holidayes at our Ladie of Clery. . . . The Duke of Guise comes, and

attending the beginning of the councell sends for a handkercher: (the

groome of [724] his chamber had forgotten to put one into his hose.)

Pericart, his secretarie, not daring to commit this new advertisement to

any mans report, ties a note to one of the corners thereof, saying,

'Come forth and save your selfe, else you are but a dead man.' But they

stay the page that carried it. Larchant, captaine of the Kings gard,

causeth an other to be given unto him with all speed by Saint Prix, the

chiefe grome of the Kings chamber. The Castle gates are shutt, and the

Councell sits about eight of the clocke.

"The spirit of man doth often prophecie of the mischeefe that doth

pursue him. So whilest they dispute of a matter propounded by

Petremolle, the Duke feeles strange alterations, and extraordinary

distemperatures, and, amidest his distrust, a great fainting of his

heart. Saint Prix presents unto him some prunes of Brignolles and

raisins of the sunne. Hee eats, and thereupon the King calls him into

his Cabinet by Revoll, one of the secretaries of his Estate, as it were

to confer with him about some secret of importance. The Duke leaves the

Councell to passe unto the Cabinet: and as he did lift up the tapistrie

with one hand to enter, they charge him with their swords, daggers, and

pertuisans: yet not with so great violence, but he shewed the murtherers

the last endeavours of an invincible valour and courage.

"Thus lived and thus died Henry of Lorraine, Duke of Guise: a Prince

worthie to be in the first rankes of Princes, goodly, great, tall of

proportion, amiable of countenance, great of courage, readie in the

execution of his enterprises, popular, dissembling, but covering the

secrets of his minde with his outward behaviour, imbracing all times and

occasions, politike in stratagems, making much of his souldiars, and

honouring his captaines. But a Prince who hath blemished the greatest

beautie of his practises by extreame ambition; factious, a great

bragger, vaine in beleeving of soothsayers who assured him of his

greatnes, and of the change of his familie into a royaltie, proud, not

able to submit his hopes, even to those from whome hee should hope for

his advancement, giving men to understand by his inclination, that he

was not borne to obey, but to commaund, and with this dessein, he framed

the minds of the French, by his first actions, to beleeve that he had

partes fit to make a strange alteration in a realme."

FOOTNOTES:

[313:1] The numbers refer to the pages of Grimeston's volume.

Bibliography

_The place of publication is London unless otherwise indicated._

I. TEXTS

=1607=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: A TRAGEDIE: As it hath been often presented

at Paules. London, Printed for William Aspley, [B. M. C. 34. c. 12.]

=1608=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: [&c. A reissue of the 1607 edition, with the

date altered. B. M. 644. d. 41.]

=1613=, 4o. THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS. A TRAGEDIE. As it hath beene

often presented at the private Play-house in the White-Fryers. Written

by George Chapman, Gentleman. London. Printed by T. S. and are to be

solde by Iohn Helme, at his Shop in S. Dunstones Church-yard, in

Fleetstreet. [B. M. C. 34. c. 16.]

=1641=, 4o. 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. London. Printed by A. N. for Robert Lunne. [B. M. 644. d.

42.]

=1646=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: [A . . . London, as in 1641 edition.]

Printed by T. W. for Robert Lunne and are to be sold at his house next

doore to the signe of the Crane on Lambeth Hill at the end of old

Fishstreet. [B. M. 644. d. 43. A reissue of the 1641 edition with the

imprint altered.]

=1657=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: A TRAGEDIE: As it hath been often Acted with

great applause. Being much corrected and amended by the Author, George

Chapman, Gent. Before his death. London, Printed, for Joshua Kirton, at

his Shop in St. Pauls Church-yard, at the sign of the Kings-Arms. [B. M.

644. d. 44. Another reissue of the 1641 edition, with a new title-page.]

[Baker in his _Biographia Dramatica_ (1812) II, 73, mentions an edition

of Bussy D'Ambois in 1616, but no copy of such an edition has been

traced, and Dilke, _Old English Plays_ (1814) vol. III, p. 228, is

probably right in considering that the entry is an error for that of

1646, which Baker does not mention.]

=1691=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS OR THE HUSBANDS REVENGE. A TRAGEDY. As it is

Acted at the Theatre Royal. Newly Revised by Mr. D'Urfey [quotation from

the Satires of Horace]. London. Printed for R. Bently in Covent Garden,

Jo. Hindmarsh over against the Royal Exchange, and Abel Roper at the

Mitre near Temple Bar.

=1814=, 8o. OLD ENGLISH PLAYS; being a selection from the early dramatic

writers. [Volume III contains _Bussy D'Ambois_, together with _Monsieur

D'Olive_, and Dekker's _The Wonder of a Kingdom_ and _Old Fortunatus_. A

short life of Chapman is prefixed to _Bussy D'Ambois_. The text is that

of the edition of 1641, in modernised spelling. The notes contain some

of the variants in the Q of 1607, and explanations of many difficult

phrases. The editor, though his name does not appear, was C. W. Dilke,

afterwards editor of the _Athenæum_, and grandfather of the present Sir

C. W. Dilke.]

=1873=, 8o. THE COMEDIES AND TRAGEDIES OF GEORGE CHAPMAN. Now first

collected, with illustrative notes and a memoir of the author. In three

volumes. London. John Pearson York Street Covent Garden. [Vol. II

contains _Bussy D'Ambois_ and _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_, together

with _Byron's Conspiracie and Tragedie_ and _May-Day_. The text of

_Bussy D'Ambois_ is, where differences of reading occur, that of the

edition of 1641, the variants of 1607 being given (with some

inaccuracies) at the foot of the page. Otherwise the spelling of 1607 is

followed, and the title-page of the 1607 Quarto is faultily reproduced.

_The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ is reprinted from the 1613 Quarto, in

the original spelling, and with a faulty reproduction of the title-page.

The explanatory notes to both plays are very slight, but there is a

valuable introductory memoir to vol. I, giving extracts from previous

criticisms of Chapman.]

=1874-5=, 8o. THE WORKS OF GEORGE CHAPMAN: edited with notes, by Richard

Herne Shepherd. [Vol. I, Plays, vol. II, Homer's _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_,

vol. III, Poems and Minor Translations, Chatto and Windus. An edition in

modernised spelling, and with merely a sprinkling of notes. To vol. III

is prefixed Mr. A. C. Swinburne's _Essay on the Poetical and Dramatic

Works of George Chapman_, the finest and most comprehensive study of

Chapman's writings.]

=1895=, 8o. GEORGE CHAPMAN edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by

William Lyon Phelps, M.A. Ph.D. London: T. Fisher Unwin. New York:

Charles Scribner's Sons. [This volume of the _Mermaid Series_ contains

_Bussy D'Ambois_ and _The Revenge_, together with _Byron's Conspiracie

and Tragedie_ and _All Fools_. The text is reprinted from the edition of

1873, but with the spelling modernised. There is an introductory memoir

containing an "appreciation" of Chapman as a dramatist, and brief

explanatory notes are added at the foot of the text.]

II. WORKS AND ARTICLES USEFUL FOR STUDY OF THE PLAYS

=1681.= DEDICATION OF THE SPANISH FRIAR, J. Dryden. Reprinted in W. P.

Ker's _Essays of John Dryden_, vol. I, pp. 244-50, Oxford, 1900.

=1691.= THE LIVES AND CHARACTERS OF THE ENGLISH DRAMATICK POETS, G.

Langbaine. Oxford.

=1691.= ATHENÆ OXONIENSES, Anthony à Wood: vol. II, pp. 575-81 (edition

continued by Ph. Bliss, 1815). Short life of Chapman.

=1808.= SPECIMENS OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS, Charles Lamb. Lamb quotes

the following passages from _Bussy D'Ambois_: II, 1, 33-135; I, 1, 5-17;

I, 1, 20-23; I, 1, 134-9; I, 2, 10-33. Further extracts, together with

several from _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_, were added in 1827.

=1818.= LECTURES ON THE DRAMATIC LITERATURE OF THE AGE OF ELIZABETH. W.

Hazlitt. Lecture III, _On Marston, Chapman, Decker, and Webster_.

=1821.= THE RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW, vol. IV: Article on _Chapman's Plays_.

This Article deals with the Tragedies and gives long extracts from

_Bussy D'Ambois_ and the two "Byron" plays. It concludes: "_The Revenge

of Bussy D'Ambois_ we regret to say we have never seen. The rarity of

the old plays is such, that they are only to be found in some public

libraries, and in the extensive hoards of private collectors; and in

such applications as we have reluctantly caused to be made, we confess,

we have rather found the exclusive spirit of the monopolist, than the

liberality of the enlightened lover of literature." A second Article, on

the Comedies, is contained in vol. V.

=1841.= THE EDINBURGH REVIEW, April: Article on _Beaumont and Fletcher

and their Contemporaries_.

=1865.= CHAPMAN IN SEINEM VERHÄLTNISS ZU SHAKESPEARE, F. Bodenstedt.

_Shakspere Jahrbuch_, I, Berlin.

=1874.= THE CORNHILL MAGAZINE, July: article on _Chapman's Dramatic

Works_.

=1875.= GEORGE CHAPMAN: A CRITICAL ESSAY, A. C. Swinburne. A reprint of

the Introductory Essay to vol. II of the Edition of Chapman's works

edited by R. H. Shepherd. Chatto & Windus.

=1887.= THE DICTIONARY OF NATIONAL BIOGRAPHY, vol. X, Article on _George

Chapman_ by A. H. Bullen.

=1891.= A BIOGRAPHICAL CHRONICLE OF THE ENGLISH DRAMA, F. G. Fleay, vol.

I, pp. 50-66. Reeves and Turner.

=1899.= A HISTORY OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC LITERATURE TO THE DEATH OF QUEEN

ANNE, A. W. Ward. New and Revised Edition, vol. II, chap. vi, 408-450.

Macmillan.

=1892.= DER BLANKVERS IN DEN DRAMEN GEORGE CHAPMANS, Emil Elste. Halle.

=1897.= QUELLEN-STUDIEN ZU DEN DRAMEN GEORGE CHAPMAN'S, PHILIP

MASSINGER'S UND JOHN FORD'S, Emil Koeppel. An account of this important

monograph, which is the 82d volume of the Strassburg _Quellen und

Forschungen_ is given in the Introduction, p. xxxi.

=1900.= GEORGE CHAPMAN UND DAS ITALIENISCHE DRAMA, A. L. Stiefel.

_Shakspere Jahrbuch_, XXXV. Deals chiefly with the relation between

Chapman's _May-Day_ and A. Piccolomini's _Alessandro_.

=1901.= LETTERS AND DOCUMENTS BY GEORGE CHAPMAN, BEN JONSON, etc.,

Bertram Dobell, printed in _The Athenæum_, Nos. 3830-3833. These

"letters and documents" form part of a small quarto MS. volume of about

90 leaves, containing "copies of letters, petitions, or other documents

dating from about 1580 to 1613." Mr. Dobell, to whom their publication

is due, considers "that the writer or collector of the documents can

have been no other than George Chapman." Six of these letters are

reprinted in Prof. Schelling's edition of _Eastward Hoe_ and _The

Alchemist_, 1903.

=1903.= THE SOURCE OF CHAPMAN'S "THE CONSPIRACIE AND TRAGEDIE OF

CHARLES, DUKE OF BYRON" AND "THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS," F. S. Boas,

in _The Athenæum_, No. 3924, Jan. 10th.

=1903.= SHAKESPEARE AND THE RIVAL POET, Arthur Acheson. John Lane. An

attempt to identify Chapman with "the rival poet" alluded to in

Shakespeare's Sonnets.

=MS.= CHORUS VATUM, Joseph Hunter, British Museum Addit. MSS. 24488,

vol. v, pp. 61-66. Article on _George Chapman_.

III. HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL WORKS RELATING TO BUSSY D'AMBOIS

=1604-20.= HISTORIÆ SUI TEMPORIS, J. A. De Thou. The earliest editions,

published in 1604, do not mention Bussy. That of 1609, which carries on

the narrative to the year 1584, only mentions (lib. LII, p. 132) his

proceedings during the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. It is the edition of

1620, published at Geneva, and embracing events till 1607 that includes

(lib. LXVIII, p. 330 ff.) the narrative of Bussy's murder, in printed

Appendix A, and (lib. CXIII, p. 558) of Renée D'Ambois's meditated

revenge (cf. Introduction, p. xxxvi). The most convenient edition of De

Thou's History is that published by S. Buckley in 1733.

=1615.= LES HISTOIRES TRAGIQUES DE NOSTRE TEMPS, François de Rosset. The

story of Bussy's love for the Countess of Montsoreau, and his murder

forms the subject of the 17th Histoire, _De la mort pitoyable du

valeureux Lysis_, the most important parts of which are printed in

Appendix A.

=1621.= JOURNAL DE HENRI III, P. de L'Estoile. Paris.

=1628.= MEMOIRES ET LETTRES, Marguerite de Valois. Paris. The edition

published by F. Guessard for _La Societe de l'Histoire de France_ (1842)

is the most convenient.

=1666.= DISCOURS SUR LES COURONNELS DE L'INFANTERIE DE FRANCE, Pierre de

Bourdeille, Seigneur de Brantôme. Leyden.

=1722.= DISCOURS SUR LES DUELS, Pierre de Bourdeille, etc. Leyden.

=1877.= LE MAINE, L'ANJOU ET BUSSY D'AMBOISE, Arthur Bertrand. Le Mans.

=1885.= LOUIS DE CLERMONT, SIEUR DE BUSSY D'AMBOISE, GOUVERNEUR D'ANJOU,

André Joubert. Angers and Paris. A full and interesting study of Bussy's

career based upon first-hand materials.

=1888.= BUSSY D'AMBOISE, Leon Marlet. Paris. A sketchy memoir.

IV. HISTORICAL WORKS RELATING TO EPISODES IN THE REVENGE OF BUSSY

D'AMBOIS

=1597.= INVENTAIRE GÉNÉRAL DE L'HISTOIRE DE FRANCE, Jean de Serres. A

later edition in 1603 continues the narrative to the peace of Vervins in

1598. Paris.

=1605.= HISTOIRE DE FRANCE DURANT SEPT ANNÉES DE PAIX DU REGNE DE HENRY

IV, Pierre Matthieu. Paris.

=1605.= CHRONOLOGIE SEPTENAIRE DE L'HISTOIRE DE LA PAIX ENTRE LES ROYS

DE FRANCE ET D'ESPAGNE, P. V. Cayet. Paris.

=1607.= A GENERAL INVENTORIE OF THE HISTORY OF FRANCE, Edward Grimeston.

From the beginning of that monarchie unto the treatie of Vervins, in the

yeare 1598. Written by Jhon de Serres, And continued unto these times,

out of the best Authors which have written of that subject. Translated

out of French into English. [A second edition, in 1611, continues the

narrative till 1610.] Upon this volume see Introduction, pp. xxxii-xxxv.

Glossary

=absolute=, perfect.

=abus'd=, deceived.

=additions=, titles.

=admiration=, wonder.

=advis'd=, cautious, wary.

=affect=, desire.

=allow=, =allow'd=, approve, approved.

=amazes=, bewilders.

=annoy=, injure.

=antickes=, buffoons.

=apishnesse=, ridiculous imitation.

=approves=, proves.

=Argosea=, a large trading vessel.

=arguments=, proofs.

=auchthor=, be the agent of.

=autenticall=, legally valid.

=avise=, intelligence.

=bare=, bareheaded.

=barks=, outer coverings.

=basilisks=, fabulous reptiles, whose glance was supposed to be fatal.

=battailia=, order of battle.

=belly-gods=, gluttons.

=brack=, breach.

=brave=, =braverie=, fine, finery.

=bumbast=, _n._, padding.

=bumbasts=, _vb._, stuffs out.

=case=, skin.

=cast=, (1) _p. p._, cast off, disused; (2) _vb._, conjecture.

=censure=, judge.

=challenge=, claim.

=characters=, outward symbols.

=check(e) at=, (1) take offence at; (2) go in pursuit of. _Used

technically of a hawk which turns aside from its proper quarry to

follow inferior game._

=clear=, pure, innocent.

=close=, secret.

=coast=, travel in circuitous fashion.

=colour=, pretence.

=comfortable=, comforting.

=companion=, base fellow.

=conceit=, conception, thought.

=confirm'd=, well-regulated.

=consent=, sympathy.

=contemptfull=, contemptible.

=cries clinke=, strikes the favourable hour.

=curious=, careful, scrupulous.

=decent=, appropriate.

=denizond=, naturalized.

=designements=, arrangements.

=discover=, reveal.

=disparking=, turning park-land into plough-land.

=emply=, imply.

=encompast=, taken at a disadvantage.

=enseame=, bring together, introduce. Cf. _Spens._ F. Q. IV, II, 35-6,

_where the word_ = "includes," "contains together."

=errant=, productive of wandering.

=events=, issues.

=exhale=, draw up, raise.

=exhalations=, meteors (cf. _Jul. Cæsar_, II, i, 44).

=explicate=, unfold.

=expugn'd=, taken by storm.

=exquire=, find out.

=facts=, deeds.

=fautor=, patron.

=fivers=, _variant of_ fibres.

=fleerings=, sneers.

=forfeit=, fault.

=foutre=, an exclamation of contempt.

=fray=, frighten.

=giddinesse=, foolhardiness.

=glorious=, swelling, boastful.

=Gordian=, Gordian knot.

=graduate=, rise by steps.

=grasse=, graze.

=hackster=, a prostitute's gallant or protector.

=haie=, a boisterous country dance.

=heartlesse=, cowardly.

=humourous=, full of humours, variable in temper.

=idols=, images, counterfeits.

=ill-favour'd=, of unpleasant appearance.

=impe=, piece out. _Used, originally, in hawking, of the process of

grafting new feathers on a maimed wing._

=implide=, _variant of_ employed.

=inennerable=, indescribable.

=informed=, moulded, fashioned.

=ingenuous=, discerning; _used mistakenly for_ ingenious.

=injurious=, insulting.

=innative=, native.

=intelligencers=, spies.

=jealousie=, suspicion.

=jet=, strut.

=jiggs=, farces, jocular performances.

=last=, a certain weight or quantity of goods. _In the case of powder,

it represented twenty-four barrels._

=let=, hinder, prevent.

=limit=, limitation.

=lucerns=, hunting dogs. _Used in the same sense by Chapman in trans.

of_ Iliad, XI, 417. _The usual meaning of the word is lynx._

=mall'd=, beaten with a mall or mallet, crushed.

=manlessly=, inhumanly.

=maritorious=, over-fond of a husband.

=mate=, match oneself against.

=meane=, moderation.

=mezel'd=, leprous, fr. M. E. _mesel_, < O. F. _mesel_, _mezel_, leper,

< M. L. _misellus_, a wretched person.

=mere=, complete.

=misers=, wretched persons.

=moon-calves=, false conceptions.

=naps=, glossy surfaces on cloth.

=naturalls=, idiots.

=nice=, dainty, scrupulous.

=nick=, notch.

=novation=, revolution.

=openarses=, medlars.

=ostents=, manifestations.

=part=, depart.

=pedisequus=, (Lat.) lackey.

=peece=, firearm, gun.

=period=, conclusion.

=politicall=, scheming.

=pide=, dressed in motley.

=prevented=, anticipated.

=pricksong=, music written down with points.

=proof=, firmness, impenetrability.

=put-ofs=, excuses.

=queich=, thicket.

=quicke=, alive.

=randon=, _earlier and more correct form of_ random, _O. F._ _randon_ f.

_randir_, to run fast.

=ready=, dressed.

=rebating=, blunting.

=rebatoes=, ruffs.

=rebutters=, rejoinders.

=reminiscion=, remembrance.

=remission=, forgiveness.

=resolv'd=, informed.

=revoke=, call back.

=rivality=, rivalry.

=scapes=, escapades.

=secureness=, carelessness.

=seres=, claws.

=sensive=, endowed with sensation.

=servant=, lover.

=several=, separate.

=shadowes=, sunshades, or broad-brimmed hats.

=shifters=, tricksters, rogues.

=skittish=, changeable, capricious.

=sooth=, confirm, approve of.

=spice=, piece, kind.

=spinners=, spiders.

=splinted=, supported.

=standish=, inkstand.

=stillado=, _rare variant of_ stiletto.

=still'd=, distilled.

=strappl'd=, strapped.

=successe=, result.

=surcharg'd=, overladen, vanquished.

=swindge=, _n._, sway.

=swindging=, swinging to and fro.

=tall=, excellent, brave.

=temper=, regulate.

=touch=, censure.

=toy=, whim.

=tracts=, tracks, traces.

=train=, stratagem.

=triumphs=, pageants.

=troe=, an exclamation of surprise, added after a question.

=trumpet=, trumpeter.

=trusse=, seize (_used specially of birds of prey_).

=warning peece=, a shot discharged as a signal.

=weather=, tempestuous commotion.

=weed=, garment.

=witty=, intelligent.

=wrack=, wreck.

=wreak=, revenge.

=unready=, undressed.

=vennie=, bout at fencing.

Transcriber's Note:

No changes have been made to spelling or punctuation in the plays.

The following corrections have been made to notes and commentary:

page xxxiv--"sequel to his most popular[original has popuular]

play"

page xxxvii--"et Monsorellum transactum fuit."[original is

missing ending quotation mark]

page xl--"well-known passage (II, i[original has 1], 205 ff.)"

page 298--added missing ending quotation mark in note =188=,

335-42.

The following words used an oe ligature in the original:

Noevius Oetaeus

oeil Phoenician

Oeta

Superscripted letters have been ignored.

The following words were hyphenated across line breaks. They have been

rejoined and moved to the upper line. A dash indicates where the word

was broken in the original.