Chapter IV: Prologue (2)

_Fri._ Tis this, good sonne:--Lord Barrisor (whom you slew)
Did love her dearely, and with all fit meanes
Hath urg'd his acceptation, of all which
Shee keepes one letter written in his blood: 205
You must say thus, then: that you heard from mee
How much her selfe was toucht in conscience
With a report (which is in truth disperst)
That your maine quarrell grew about her love,
Lord Barrisor imagining your courtship 210
Of the great Guises Duchesse in the Presence
Was by you made to his elected mistresse:
And so made me your meane now to resolve her,
Chosing by my direction this nights depth,
For the more cleare avoiding of all note 215
Of your presumed presence. And with this
(To cleare her hands of such a lovers blood)
She will so kindly thank and entertaine you
(Me thinks I see how), I, and ten to one,
Shew you the confirmation in his blood, 220
Lest you should think report and she did faine,
That you shall so have circumstantiall meanes
To come to the direct, which must be used:
For the direct is crooked; love comes flying;
The height of love is still wonne with denying. 225

_Buss._ Thanks, honoured father.

_Fri._ Shee must never know
That you know any thing of any love
Sustain'd on her part: for, learne this of me,
In any thing a woman does alone,
If she dissemble, she thinks tis not done; 230
If not dissemble, nor a little chide,
Give her her wish, she is not satisfi'd;
To have a man think that she never seekes
Does her more good than to have all she likes:
This frailty sticks in them beyond their sex, 235
Which to reforme, reason is too perplex:
Urge reason to them, it will doe no good;
Humour (that is the charriot of our food
In every body) must in them be fed,
To carrie their affections by it bred. 240
Stand close!

_Enter Tamyra with a book._

_Tam._ Alas, I fear my strangenesse will retire him.
If he goe back, I die; I must prevent it,
And cheare his onset with my sight at least,
And that's the most; though every step he takes 245
Goes to my heart. Ile rather die than seeme
Not to be strange to that I most esteeme.

_Fri._ Madam!

_Tam._ Ah!

_Fri._ You will pardon me, I hope,
That so beyond your expectation,
(And at a time for visitants so unfit) 250
I (with my noble friend here) visit you:
You know that my accesse at any time
Hath ever beene admitted; and that friend,
That my care will presume to bring with me,
Shall have all circumstance of worth in him 255
To merit as free welcome as myselfe.

_Tam._ O father, but at this suspicious houre
You know how apt best men are to suspect us
In any cause that makes suspicious shadow
No greater than the shadow of a haire; 260
And y'are to blame. What though my lord and husband
Lie forth to night, and since I cannot sleepe
When he is absent I sit up to night;
Though all the dores are sure, and all our servants
As sure bound with their sleepes; yet there is One 265
That wakes above, whose eye no sleepe can binde:
He sees through dores, and darknesse, and our thoughts;
And therefore as we should avoid with feare
To think amisse our selves before his search,
So should we be as curious to shunne 270
All cause that other think not ill of us.

_Buss._ Madam, 'tis farre from that: I only heard
By this my honour'd father that your conscience
Made some deepe scruple with a false report
That Barrisors blood should something touch your honour, 275
Since he imagin'd I was courting you
When I was bold to change words with the Duchesse,
And therefore made his quarrell, his long love
And service, as I heare, beeing deepely vowed
To your perfections; which my ready presence, 280
Presum'd on with my father at this season
For the more care of your so curious honour,
Can well resolve your conscience is most false.

_Tam._ And is it therefore that you come, good sir?
Then crave I now your pardon and my fathers, 285
And sweare your presence does me so much good
That all I have it bindes to your requitall.
Indeed sir, 'tis most true that a report
Is spread, alleadging that his love to me
Was reason of your quarrell; and because 290
You shall not think I faine it for my glory
That he importun'd me for his Court service,
I'le shew you his own hand, set down in blood,
To that vaine purpose: good sir, then come in.
Father, I thank you now a thousand fold. 295
_Exit Tamyra and D'Amb[ois]._

_Fri._ May it be worth it to you, honour'd daughter!
_Descendit Fryar._

_Finis Actus Secundi._

LINENOTES:

1-49 _He will . . . bloud_. These lines and the direction,
_Montsur . . . Pyrha_, are found in A only.

50 B, which begins the scene with this line, inserts
before it: _Enter Monsieur, Tamyra, and Pero with a
booke._

71 _joyning a lose_. A, weighing a dissolute.

76 _common_. A, solemne.

135 _honour_. A, profit.

146 _In . . . another_. A omits.

147 _wane_. Emend., Dilke; Qq, wave.

158 _yee_. A, the.

172 _which_. A, that.

173 _For life's . . . me_. A, For love is hatefull
without love againe.

_The Vault opens_. B places this after 173; A omits.

177-181 _See . . . in_. Instead of these lines, A has:--

See, see the gulfe is opening that will
swallow
Me and my fame forever; I will in.

_with a book_. A omits.

266 _wakes_. A, sits.

274 _Made some deepe scruple_. A, Was something troubled.

275 _honour_. A, hand.

278-280 _his long love . . . perfections_. A omits.

280 _ready_. A omits.

286 _good_. A, comfort.

ACTUS TERTII SCENA PRIMA.

[_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter D'Ambois, Tamyra, with a chaine of pearle._

_Bussy._ Sweet mistresse, cease! your conscience is too nice,
And bites too hotly of the Puritane spice.

_Tamyra._ O, my deare servant, in thy close embraces
I have set open all the dores of danger
To my encompast honour, and my life: 5
Before I was secure against death and hell;
But now am subject to the heartlesse feare
Of every shadow, and of every breath,
And would change firmnesse with an aspen leafe:
So confident a spotlesse conscience is, 10
So weake a guilty. O, the dangerous siege
Sinne layes about us, and the tyrannie
He exercises when he hath expugn'd!
Like to the horror of a winter's thunder,
Mixt with a gushing storme, that suffer nothing 15
To stirre abroad on earth but their own rages,
Is sinne, when it hath gathered head above us;
No roofe, no shelter can secure us so,
But he will drowne our cheeks in feare or woe.

_Buss._ Sin is a coward, madam, and insults 20
But on our weaknesse, in his truest valour:
And so our ignorance tames us, that we let
His shadowes fright us: and like empty clouds
In which our faulty apprehensions forge
The formes of dragons, lions, elephants, 25
When they hold no proportion, the slie charmes
Of the witch policy makes him like a monster
Kept onely to shew men for servile money:
That false hagge often paints him in her cloth
Ten times more monstrous than he is in troth. 30
In three of us the secret of our meeting
Is onely guarded, and three friends as one
Have ever beene esteem'd, as our three powers
That in our one soule are as one united:
Why should we feare then? for my selfe, I sweare, 35
Sooner shall torture be the sire to pleasure,
And health be grievous to one long time sick,
Than the deare jewell of your fame in me
Be made an out-cast to your infamy;
Nor shall my value (sacred to your vertues) 40
Onely give free course to it from my selfe,
But make it flie out of the mouths of Kings
In golden vapours, and with awfull wings.

_Tam._ It rests as all Kings seales were set in thee.
Now let us call my father, whom I sweare 45
I could extreamly chide, but that I feare
To make him so suspicious of my love,
Of which (sweet servant) doe not let him know
For all the world.

_Buss._ Alas! he will not think it.

_Tam._ Come then--ho! Father, ope and take your friend. 50

_Ascendit Frier._

_Fri._ Now, honour'd daughter, is your doubt resolv'd?

_Tam._ I, father, but you went away too soone.

_Fri._ Too soone!

_Tam._ Indeed you did; you should have stayed;
Had not your worthy friend beene of your bringing,
And that containes all lawes to temper me, 55
Not all the fearefull danger that besieged us
Had aw'd my throat from exclamation.

_Fri._ I know your serious disposition well.
Come, sonne, the morne comes on.

_Buss._ Now, honour'd mistresse,
Till farther service call, all blisse supply you! 60

_Tam._ And you this chaine of pearle, and my love onely!
_Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]._
It is not I, but urgent destiny
That (as great states-men for their generall end
In politique justice make poore men offend)
Enforceth my offence to make it just. 65
What shall weak dames doe, when th' whole work of Nature
Hath a strong finger in each one of us?
Needs must that sweep away the silly cobweb
Of our still-undone labours, that layes still
Our powers to it, as to the line, the stone, 70
Not to the stone, the line should be oppos'd.
We cannot keepe our constant course in vertue:
What is alike at all parts? every day
Differs from other, every houre and minute;
I, every thought in our false clock of life 75
Oft times inverts the whole circumference:
We must be sometimes one, sometimes another.
Our bodies are but thick clouds to our soules,
Through which they cannot shine when they desire.
When all the starres, and even the sunne himselfe, 80
Must stay the vapours times that he exhales
Before he can make good his beames to us,
O how can we, that are but motes to him,
Wandring at random in his ordered rayes,
Disperse our passions fumes, with our weak labours, 85
That are more thick and black than all earths vapours?

_Enter Mont[surry]._

_Mont._ Good day, my love! what, up and ready too!

_Tam._ Both (my deare lord): not all this night made I
My selfe unready, or could sleep a wink.

_Mont._ Alas, what troubled my true love, my peace, 90
From being at peace within her better selfe?
Or how could sleepe forbeare to seize thine eyes,
When he might challenge them as his just prise?

_Tam._ I am in no powre earthly, but in yours.
To what end should I goe to bed, my lord, 95
That wholly mist the comfort of my bed?
Or how should sleepe possesse my faculties,
Wanting the proper closer of mine eyes?

_Mont._ Then will I never more sleepe night from thee:
All mine owne businesse, all the Kings affaires, 100
Shall take the day to serve them; every night
Ile ever dedicate to thy delight.

_Tam._ Nay, good my lord, esteeme not my desires
Such doters on their humours that my judgement
Cannot subdue them to your worthier pleasure: 105
A wives pleas'd husband must her object be
In all her acts, not her sooth'd fantasie.

_Mont._ Then come, my love, now pay those rites to sleepe
Thy faire eyes owe him: shall we now to bed?

_Tam._ O no, my lord! your holy frier sayes 110
All couplings in the day that touch the bed
Adulterous are, even in the married;
Whose grave and worthy doctrine, well I know,
Your faith in him will liberally allow.

_Mont._ Hee's a most learned and religious man. 115
Come to the Presence then, and see great D'Ambois
(Fortunes proud mushrome shot up in a night)
Stand like an Atlas under our Kings arme;
Which greatnesse with him Monsieur now envies
As bitterly and deadly as the Guise. 120

_Tam._ What! he that was but yesterday his maker,
His raiser, and preserver?

_Mont._ Even the same.
Each naturall agent works but to this end,
To render that it works on like it selfe;
Which since the Monsieur in his act on D'Ambois 125
Cannot to his ambitious end effect,
But that (quite opposite) the King hath power
(In his love borne to D'Ambois) to convert
The point of Monsieurs aime on his owne breast,
He turnes his outward love to inward hate: 130
A princes love is like the lightnings fume,
Which no man can embrace, but must consume. _Exeunt._

LINENOTES:

_Enter D'Ambois . . . pearle_. A, Bucy, Tamyra.

1-2 _Sweet . . . spice_. A omits.

28 _servile_. A, Goddesse.

34 _our one_. So in A: B omits _our_.

35 _selfe_. A, truth.

37 _one_. A, men.

45-61 _Now let . . . Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]_. A
omits.

92 _thine eies_. A, thy beauties.

118 _under our Kings arme_. A, underneath the King.

[ACTUS TERTII SCENA SECUNDA.

_A room in the Court._]

_Henry, D'Ambois, Monsieur, Guise, Dutches, Annabell,
Charlot, Attendants._

_Henry._ Speak home, my Bussy! thy impartiall words
Are like brave faulcons that dare trusse a fowle
Much greater than themselves; flatterers are kites
That check at sparrowes; thou shalt be my eagle,
And beare my thunder underneath thy wings: 5
Truths words like jewels hang in th'eares of kings.

_Bussy_. Would I might live to see no Jewes hang there
In steed of jewels--sycophants, I meane,
Who use Truth like the Devill, his true foe,
Cast by the angell to the pit of feares, 10
And bound in chaines; Truth seldome decks kings eares.
Slave flattery (like a rippiers legs rowl'd up
In boots of hay-ropes) with kings soothed guts
Swadled and strappl'd, now lives onely free.
O, tis a subtle knave; how like the plague 15
Unfelt he strikes into the braine of man,
And rageth in his entrailes when he can,
Worse than the poison of a red hair'd man.

_Henr._ Fly at him and his brood! I cast thee off,
And once more give thee surname of mine eagle. 20

_Buss._ Ile make you sport enough, then. Let me have
My lucerns too, or dogs inur'd to hunt
Beasts of most rapine, but to put them up,
And if I trusse not, let me not be trusted.
Shew me a great man (by the peoples voice, 25
Which is the voice of God) that by his greatnesse
Bumbasts his private roofes with publique riches;
That affects royaltie, rising from a clapdish;
That rules so much more than his suffering King,
That he makes kings of his subordinate slaves: 30
Himselfe and them graduate like woodmongers
Piling a stack of billets from the earth,
Raising each other into steeples heights;
Let him convey this on the turning props
Of Protean law, and (his owne counsell keeping) 35
Keepe all upright--let me but hawlk at him,
Ile play the vulture, and so thump his liver
That (like a huge unlading Argosea)
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
Shew me a clergie man that is in voice 40
A lark of heaven, in heart a mowle of earth;
That hath good living, and a wicked life;
A temperate look, and a luxurious gut;
Turning the rents of his superfluous cures
Into your phesants and your partriches; 45
Venting their quintessence as men read Hebrew--
Let me but hawlk at him, and like the other,
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
Shew me a lawyer that turnes sacred law
(The equall rendrer of each man his owne, 50
The scourge of rapine and extortion,
The sanctuary and impregnable defence
Of retir'd learning and besieged vertue)
Into a Harpy, that eates all but's owne,
Into the damned sinnes it punisheth, 55
Into the synagogue of theeves and atheists;
Blood into gold, and justice into lust:--
Let me but hawlk at him, as at the rest,
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.

_Enter Mont-surrey, Tamira and Pero._

_Gui._ Where will you find such game as you would hawlk at? 60

_Buss._ Ile hawlk about your house for one of them.

_Gui._ Come, y'are a glorious ruffin and runne proud
Of the Kings headlong graces; hold your breath,
Or, by that poyson'd vapour, not the King
Shall back your murtherous valour against me. 65

_Buss._ I would the King would make his presence free
But for one bout betwixt us: by the reverence
Due to the sacred space twixt kings and subjects,
Here would I make thee cast that popular purple
In which thy proud soule sits and braves thy soveraigne. 70

_Mons._ Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace!

_Buss._ Let him peace first
That made the first warre.

_Mons._ He's the better man.

_Buss._ And, therefore, may doe worst?

_Mons._ He has more titles.

_Buss._ So Hydra had more heads.

_Mons._ He's greater knowne.

_Buss._ His greatnesse is the peoples, mine's mine owne. 75

_Mons._ He's noblier borne.

_Buss._ He is not; I am noble,
And noblesse in his blood hath no gradation,
But in his merit.

_Gui._ Th'art not nobly borne,
But bastard to the Cardinall of Ambois.

_Buss._ Thou liest, proud Guiserd; let me flie, my Lord! 80

_Henr._ Not in my face, my eagle! violence flies
The sanctuaries of a princes eyes.

_Buss._ Still shall we chide, and fome upon this bit?
Is the Guise onely great in faction?
Stands he not by himselfe? Proves he th'opinion 85
That mens soules are without them? Be a duke,
And lead me to the field.

_Guis._ Come, follow me.

_Henr._ Stay them! stay, D'Ambois! Cosen Guise, I wonder
Your honour'd disposition brooks so ill
A man so good that only would uphold 90
Man in his native noblesse, from whose fall
All our dissentions rise; that in himselfe
(Without the outward patches of our frailty,
Riches and honour) knowes he comprehends
Worth with the greatest. Kings had never borne 95
Such boundlesse empire over other men,
Had all maintain'd the spirit and state of D'Ambois;
Nor had the full impartiall hand of Nature,
That all things gave in her originall
Without these definite terms of Mine and Thine, 100
Beene turn'd unjustly to the hand of Fortune,
Had all preserv'd her in her prime like D'Ambois;
No envie, no disjunction had dissolv'd,
Or pluck'd one stick out of the golden faggot
In which the world of Saturne bound our lifes, 105
Had all beene held together with the nerves,
The genius, and th'ingenious soule of D'Ambois.
Let my hand therefore be the Hermean rod
To part and reconcile, and so conserve you,
As my combin'd embracers and supporters. 110

_Buss._ Tis our Kings motion, and we shall not seeme
To worst eies womanish, though we change thus soone
Never so great grudge for his greater pleasure.

_Gui._ I seale to that, and so the manly freedome,
That you so much professe, hereafter prove not 115
A bold and glorious licence to deprave,
To me his hand shall hold the Hermean vertue
His grace affects, in which submissive signe
On this his sacred right hand I lay mine.

_Buss._ Tis well, my lord, and so your worthy greatnesse 120
Decline not to the greater insolence,
Nor make you think it a prerogative
To rack mens freedomes with the ruder wrongs,
My hand (stuck full of lawrell, in true signe
Tis wholly dedicate to righteous peace) 125
In all submission kisseth th'other side.

_Henr._ Thanks to ye both: and kindly I invite ye
Both to a banquet where weele sacrifice
Full cups to confirmation of your loves;
At which (faire ladies) I entreat your presence; 130
And hope you, madam, will take one carowse
For reconcilement of your lord and servant.

_Duchess._ If I should faile, my lord, some other lady
Would be found there to doe that for my servant.

_Mons._ Any of these here?

_Duch._ Nay, I know not that. 135

_Buss._ Think your thoughts like my mistresse, honour'd lady?

_Tamyra._ I think not on you, sir; y'are one I know not.

_Buss._ Cry you mercy, madam!

_Montsurry._ Oh sir, has she met you?
_Exeunt Henry, D'Amb[ois], Ladies._

_Mons._ What had my bounty drunk when it rais'd him?

_Gui._ Y'ave stuck us up a very worthy flag, 140
That takes more winde than we with all our sailes.

_Mons._ O, so he spreds and flourishes.

_Gui._ He must downe;
Upstarts should never perch too neere a crowne.

_Mons._ Tis true, my lord; and as this doting hand
Even out of earth (like Juno) struck this giant, 145
So Joves great ordinance shall be here implide
To strike him under th'Ætna of his pride.
To which work lend your hands, and let us cast
Where we may set snares for his ranging greatnes.
I think it best, amongst our greatest women: 150
For there is no such trap to catch an upstart
As a loose downfall; for, you know, their falls
Are th'ends of all mens rising. If great men
And wise make scapes to please advantage,
Tis with a woman--women that woorst may 155
Still hold mens candels: they direct and know
All things amisse in all men, and their women
All things amisse in them; through whose charm'd mouthes
We may see all the close scapes of the Court.
When the most royall beast of chase, the hart, 160
Being old, and cunning in his layres and haunts,
Can never be discovered to the bow,
The peece, or hound--yet where, behind some queich,
He breaks his gall, and rutteth with his hinde,
The place is markt, and by his venery 165
He still is taken. Shall we then attempt
The chiefest meane to that discovery here,
And court our greatest ladies chiefest women
With shewes of love, and liberall promises?
Tis but our breath. If something given in hand 170
Sharpen their hopes of more, 'twill be well ventur'd.

_Gui._ No doubt of that: and 'tis the cunningst point
Of our devis'd investigation.

_Mons._ I have broken
The yce to it already with the woman
Of your chast lady, and conceive good hope 175
I shall wade thorow to some wished shore
At our next meeting.

_Mont._ Nay, there's small hope there.

_Gui._ Take say of her, my lord, she comes most fitly.

_Mons._ Starting back?

_Enter Charlot, Anable, Pero._

_Gui._ Y'are ingag'd indeed. 180

_Annable._ Nay pray, my lord, forbeare.

_Mont._ What, skittish, servant?

_An._ No, my lord, I am not so fit for your service.

_Charlotte._ Nay, pardon me now, my lord; my lady expects me. 185

_Gui._ Ile satisfie her expectation, as far as an unkle may.

_Mons._ Well said! a spirit of courtship of all
hands. Now, mine owne Pero, hast thou remembred 190
me for the discovery I entreated thee
to make of thy mistresse? Speak boldly, and be
sure of all things I have sworne to thee.

_Pero._ Building on that assurance (my lord) I
may speak; and much the rather because my 195
lady hath not trusted me with that I can tell
you; for now I cannot be said to betray her.

_Mons._ That's all one, so wee reach our
objects: forth, I beseech thee.

_Per._ To tell you truth, my lord, I have made 200
a strange discovery.

_Mons._ Excellent Pero, thou reviv'st me; may I
sink quick to perdition if my tongue discover it!

_Per._ Tis thus, then: this last night my lord
lay forth, and I, watching my ladies sitting up, 205
stole up at midnight from my pallat, and (having
before made a hole both through the wall and
arras to her inmost chamber) I saw D'Ambois
and her selfe reading a letter!

_Mons._ D'Ambois! 210

_Per._ Even he, my lord.

_Mons._ Do'st thou not dreame, wench?

_Per._ I sweare he is the man.

_Mons._ The devill he is, and thy lady his dam!
Why this was the happiest shot that ever flewe; 215
the just plague of hypocrisie level'd it. Oh, the
infinite regions betwixt a womans tongue and
her heart! is this our Goddesse of chastity? I
thought I could not be so sleighted, if she had
not her fraught besides, and therefore plotted this 220
with her woman, never dreaming of D'Amboys.
Deare Pero, I will advance thee for ever: but
tell me now--Gods pretious, it transformes mee
with admiration--sweet Pero, whom should she
trust with this conveyance? Or, all the dores 225
being made sure, how should his conveyance be
made?

_Per._ Nay, my lord, that amazes me: I cannot
by any study so much as guesse at it.

_Mons._ Well, let's favour our apprehensions 230
with forbearing that a little; for, if my heart
were not hoopt with adamant, the conceipt of
this would have burst it: but heark thee. _Whispers._

_Mont._ I pray thee, resolve mee: the Duke
will never imagine that I am busie about's wife: 235
hath D'Ambois any privy accesse to her?

_An._ No, my lord, D'Ambois neglects her (as
shee takes it) and is therefore suspicious that
either your lady, or the lady Beaupre, hath
closely entertain'd him. 240

_Mont._ Ber lady, a likely suspition, and very
neere the life--especially of my wife.

_Mons._ Come, we'l disguise all with seeming
onely to have courted.--Away, dry palm! sh'as
a livor as dry as a bisket; a man may goe a 245
whole voyage with her, and get nothing but
tempests from her windpipe.

_Gui._ Here's one (I think) has swallowed a
porcupine, shee casts pricks from her tongue so.

_Mont._ And here's a peacock seemes to have 250
devour'd one of the Alpes, she has so swelling
a spirit, & is so cold of her kindnes.

_Char._ We are no windfalls, my lord; ye must
gather us with the ladder of matrimony, or we'l
hang till we be rotten. 255

_Mons._ Indeed, that's the way to make ye right
openarses. But, alas, ye have no portions fit for
such husbands as we wish you.

_Per._ Portions, my lord! yes, and such portions
as your principality cannot purchase. 260

_Mons._ What, woman, what are those portions?

_Per._ Riddle my riddle, my lord.

_Mons._ I, marry, wench, I think thy portion
is a right riddle; a man shall never finde it out:
but let's heare it. 265

_Per._ You shall, my lord.
_What's that, that being most rar's most cheap?
That when you sow, you never reap?
That when it growes most, most you [th]in it,
And still you lose it, when you win it? 270
That when tis commonest, tis dearest,
And when tis farthest off, 'tis neerest?_

_Mons._ Is this your great portion?

_Per._ Even this, my lord.

_Mons._ Beleeve me, I cannot riddle it. 275

_Per._ No, my lord; tis my chastity, which you
shall neither riddle nor fiddle.

_Mons._ Your chastity! Let me begin with the
end of it; how is a womans chastity neerest
man, when tis furthest off? 280

_Per._ Why, my lord, when you cannot get it,
it goes to th'heart on you; and that I think comes
most neere you: and I am sure it shall be farre
enough off. And so wee leave you to our mercies. _Exeunt Women._

_Mons._ Farewell, riddle. 285

_Gui._ Farewell, medlar.

_Mont._ Farewell, winter plum.

_Mons._ Now, my lords, what fruit of our inquisition?
feele you nothing budding yet? Speak,
good my lord Montsurry. 290

_Mont._ Nothing but this: D'Ambois is thought
negligent in observing the Duchesse, and therefore
she is suspicious that your neece or my wife
closely entertaines him.

_Mons._ Your wife, my lord! Think you that 295
possible?

_Mont._ Alas, I know she flies him like her
last houre.

_Mons._ Her last houre? Why that comes upon
her the more she flies it. Does D'Ambois so, 300
think you?

_Mont._ That's not worth the answering. Tis
miraculous to think with what monsters womens
imaginations engrosse them when they are once
enamour'd, and what wonders they will work 305
for their satisfaction. They will make a sheepe
valiant, a lion fearefull.

_Mons._ And an asse confident. Well, my lord,
more will come forth shortly; get you to the
banquet. 310

_Gui._ Come, my lord, I have the blind side of
one of them. _Exit Guise cum Mont[surry]._

_Mons._ O the unsounded sea of womens bloods,
That when tis calmest, is most dangerous!
Not any wrinkle creaming in their faces, 315
When in their hearts are Scylla and Caribdis,
Which still are hid in dark and standing foggs,
Where never day shines, nothing ever growes
But weeds and poysons that no states-man knowes;
Nor Cerberus ever saw the damned nookes 320
Hid with the veiles of womens vertuous lookes.
But what a cloud of sulphur have I drawne
Up to my bosome in this dangerous secret!
Which if my hast with any spark should light
Ere D'Ambois were engag'd in some sure plot, 325
I were blowne up; he would be, sure, my death.
Would I had never knowne it, for before
I shall perswade th'importance to Montsurry,
And make him with some studied stratagem
Train D'Ambois to his wreak, his maid may tell it; 330
Or I (out of my fiery thirst to play
With the fell tyger up in darknesse tyed,
And give it some light) make it quite break loose.
I feare it, afore heaven, and will not see
D'Ambois againe, till I have told Montsurry, 335
And set a snare with him to free my feares.
Whose there?

_Enter Maffe._

_Maffe._ My lord?

_Mons._ Goe, call the Count Montsurry,
And make the dores fast; I will speak with none
Till he come to me.

_Maf._ Well, my lord. _Exiturus._

_Mons._ Or else
Send you some other, and see all the dores 340
Made safe your selfe, I pray; hast, flie about it.

_Maf._ You'l speak with none but with the Count Montsurry?

_Mons._ With none but hee, except it be the Guise.

_Maf._ See, even by this there's one exception more;
Your Grace must be more firme in the command, 345
Or else shall I as weakly execute.
The Guise shall speak with you?

_Mons._ He shall, I say.

_Maf._ And Count Montsurry?

_Mons._ I, and Count Montsurry.

_Maf._ Your Grace must pardon me, that I am bold
To urge the cleare and full sence of your pleasure; 350
Which when so ever I have knowne, I hope
Your Grace will say I hit it to a haire.

_Mons._ You have.

_Maf._ I hope so, or I would be glad--

_Mons._ I pray thee, get thee gone; thou art so tedious
In the strick't forme of all thy services 355
That I had better have one negligent.
You hit my pleasure well, when D'Ambois hit you;
Did you not, think you?

_Maf._ D'Ambois! why, my lord--

_Mons._ I pray thee, talk no more, but shut the dores:
Doe what I charge thee.

_Maf._ I will my lord, and yet 360
I would be glad the wrong I had of D'Ambois--

_Mons._ Precious! then it is a fate that plagues me
In this mans foolery; I may be murthered,
While he stands on protection of his folly.
Avant, about thy charge!

_Maf._ I goe, my lord.-- 365
I had my head broke in his faithfull service;
I had no suit the more, nor any thanks,
And yet my teeth must still be hit with D'Ambois.
D'Ambois, my lord, shall know--

_Mons._ The devill and D'Ambois!
_Exit Maffe._
How am I tortur'd with this trusty foole! 370
Never was any curious in his place
To doe things justly, but he was an asse:
We cannot finde one trusty that is witty,
And therefore beare their disproportion.
Grant, thou great starre, and angell of my life, 375
A sure lease of it but for some few dayes,
That I may cleare my bosome of the snake
I cherisht there, and I will then defie
All check to it but Natures; and her altars
Shall crack with vessels crown'd with ev'ry liquor 380
Drawn from her highest and most bloudy humors.
I feare him strangely; his advanced valour
Is like a spirit rais'd without a circle,
Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him,
And for whose fury he hath learnt no limit. 385

_Enter Maffe hastily._

_Maf._ I cannot help it; what should I do more?
As I was gathering a fit guard to make
My passage to the dores, and the dores sure,
The man of bloud is enter'd.

_Mons._ Rage of death!
If I had told the secret, and he knew it, 390
Thus had I bin endanger'd.

_Enter D'Ambois._

My sweet heart!
How now? what leap'st thou at?

_Bussy._ O royall object!

_Mons._ Thou dream'st awake: object in th'empty aire!

_Buss._ Worthy the browes of Titan, worth his chaire.

_Mons._ Pray thee, what mean'st thou?

_Buss._ See you not a crowne 395
Empalethe forehead of the great King Monsieur?

_Mons._ O, fie upon thee!

_Buss._ Prince, that is the subject
Of all these your retir'd and sole discourses.

_Mons._ Wilt thou not leave that wrongfull supposition?

_Buss._ Why wrongfull to suppose the doubtlesse right 400
To the succession worth the thinking on?

_Mons._ Well, leave these jests! how I am over-joyed
With thy wish'd presence, and how fit thou com'st,
For, of mine honour, I was sending for thee.

_Buss._ To what end?

_Mons._ Onely for thy company, 405
Which I have still in thought; but that's no payment
On thy part made with personall appearance.
Thy absence so long suffered oftentimes
Put me in some little doubt thou do'st not love me.
Wilt thou doe one thing therefore now sincerely? 410

_Buss._ I, any thing--but killing of the King.

_Mons._ Still in that discord, and ill taken note?
How most unseasonable thou playest the cucko,
In this thy fall of friendship!

_Buss._ Then doe not doubt
That there is any act within my nerves, 415
But killing of the King, that is not yours.

_Mons._ I will not then; to prove which, by my love
Shewne to thy vertues, and by all fruits else
Already sprung from that still flourishing tree,
With whatsoever may hereafter spring, 420
I charge thee utter (even with all the freedome
Both of thy noble nature and thy friendship)
The full and plaine state of me in thy thoughts.

_Buss._ What, utter plainly what I think of you?

_Mons._ Plaine as truth. 425

_Buss._ Why this swims quite against the stream of greatnes:
Great men would rather heare their flatteries,
And if they be not made fooles, are not wise.

_Mons._ I am no such great foole, and therefore charge thee
Even from the root of thy free heart display mee. 430

_Buss._ Since you affect it in such serious termes,
If your selfe first will tell me what you think
As freely and as heartily of me,
I'le be as open in my thoughts of you.

_Mons._ A bargain, of mine honour! and make this, 435
That prove we in our full dissection
Never so foule, live still the sounder friends.

_Buss._ What else, sir? come, pay me home, ile bide it bravely.

_Mons._ I will, I sweare. I think thee, then, a man
That dares as much as a wilde horse or tyger, 440
As headstrong and as bloody; and to feed
The ravenous wolfe of thy most caniball valour
(Rather than not employ it) thou would'st turne
Hackster to any whore, slave to a Jew,
Or English usurer, to force possessions 445
(And cut mens throats) of morgaged estates;
Or thou would'st tire thee like a tinkers strumpet,
And murther market folks; quarrell with sheepe,
And runne as mad as Ajax; serve a butcher;
Doe any thing but killing of the King. 450
That in thy valour th'art like other naturalls
That have strange gifts in nature, but no soule
Diffus'd quite through, to make them of a peece,
But stop at humours, that are more absurd,
Childish and villanous than that hackster, whore, 455
Slave, cut-throat, tinkers bitch, compar'd before;
And in those humours would'st envie, betray,
Slander, blaspheme, change each houre a religion,
Doe any thing, but killing of the King:
That in thy valour (which is still the dunghill, 460
To which hath reference all filth in thy house)
Th'art more ridiculous and vaine-glorious
Than any mountibank, and impudent
Than any painted bawd; which not to sooth,
And glorifie thee like a Jupiter Hammon, 465
Thou eat'st thy heart in vinegar, and thy gall
Turns all thy blood to poyson, which is cause
Of that toad-poole that stands in thy complexion,
And makes thee with a cold and earthy moisture,
(Which is the damme of putrifaction) 470
As plague to thy damn'd pride, rot as thou liv'st:
To study calumnies and treacheries;
To thy friends slaughters like a scrich-owle sing,
And to all mischiefes--but to kill the King.

_Buss._ So! have you said?

_Mons._ How thinkest thou? Doe I flatter? 475
Speak I not like a trusty friend to thee?

_Buss._ That ever any man was blest withall.
So here's for me! I think you are (at worst)
No devill, since y'are like to be no King;
Of which with any friend of yours Ile lay 480
This poore stillado here gainst all the starres,
I, and 'gainst all your treacheries, which are more:
That you did never good, but to doe ill,
But ill of all sorts, free and for it selfe:
That (like a murthering peece making lanes in armies, 485
The first man of a rank, the whole rank falling)
If you have wrong'd one man, you are so farre
From making him amends that all his race,
Friends, and associates fall into your chace:
That y'are for perjuries the very prince 490
Of all intelligencers; and your voice
Is like an easterne winde, that, where it flies,
Knits nets of catterpillars, with which you catch
The prime of all the fruits the kingdome yeelds:
That your politicall head is the curst fount 495
Of all the violence, rapine, cruelty,
Tyrannie, & atheisme flowing through the realme:
That y'ave a tongue so scandalous, 'twill cut
The purest christall, and a breath that will
Kill to that wall a spider; you will jest 500
With God, and your soule to the Devill tender
For lust; kisse horror, and with death engender:
That your foule body is a Lernean fenne
Of all the maladies breeding in all men:
That you are utterly without a soule; 505
And for your life, the thred of that was spunne
When Clotho slept, and let her breathing rock
Fall in the durt; and Lachesis still drawes it,
Dipping her twisting fingers in a boule
Defil'd, and crown'd with vertues forced soule: 510
And lastly (which I must for gratitude
Ever remember) that of all my height
And dearest life you are the onely spring,
Onely in royall hope to kill the King.

_Mons._ Why, now I see thou lov'st me! come to the banquet!
_Exeunt._ 515

_Finis Actus Tertii._

LINENOTES:

_Henry . . . Attendants_. A, _Henry, D'Ambois,
Monsieur, Guise, Mont., Elenor, Tam., Pero_.

1 _my_. A; B omits.

4 _sparrowes_. A, nothing.

16 _man_. A, truth.

29 _than_. So in A; B, by.

53 _besieged_. A, oppressed.

58 _the rest_. A, the tother.

67 _bout_. A, charge.

71-72 Three lines in Qq, i.e. _Peace . . . thee peace_ |
_Let . . . warre_ | _He's . . . man_.

76 _noblier_. Emend. ed. Qq, nobly; see note, p. 154.

88 _Stay . . . D'Ambois_. B, Stay them, stay D'Ambois.

89 _honour'd_. A, equall.

96 _empire_. A, eminence.

104 _one stick out_. A, out one sticke.

105 _bound our lifes_. A, was compris'd.

107 _ingenious_. A, ingenuous.

117 _hold_. A, proove. _vertue_. A, rodde.

121 _Decline not to_. A, Engender not.

131-138 _And hope . . . D'Amb[ois], Ladies_. Omitted in A,
which after 130 has: _Exeunt Henry, D'Amb., Ely, Ta._

140 _worthy_. A, proper.

149 _ranging_. A, gadding.

153 _for, you know_. A, and indeed.

160-161 _the hart, Being old, and cunning in his_. A, being
old, And cunning in his choice of.

163-164 _where . . . his hinde_. A has:--

Where his custome is
To beat his vault, and he ruts with his hinde.

168 _chiefest_. A, greatest.

172 _the cunningst_. A, an excellent.

173-177 _I have broken . . . hope there_. A has:--

I have already broke the ice, my lord,
With the most trusted woman of your Countesse,
And hope I shall wade through to our discovery.

178 _Gui._ A, _Mont._ omitting the speech _Nay . . .
there_.

179 _Starting back_. Omitted in A, which instead
continues Montsurry's speech with: And we will to the
other.

180 _indeed_. A omits.

185 _Nay_. A, Pray.

189-193 _Well said . . . to thee_. Printed in doggerel form
in Qq, the lines ending with _hands_, _me_,
_mistresse_, _thee_.

192 _of_. A, concerning.

193 _sworne to thee_. A, promised.

194 _that assurance_. A, that you have sworne.

198-199 _so wee reach our objects_. A, so it bee not to one
that will betray thee.

202 _Excellent . . . me_. So punctuated by ed.; A,
Excellent Pero thou reviv'st me; B, Excellent! Pero
thou reviv'st me.

203 _to perdition_. A, into earth heere.

205 _watching_. A, wondring.

206 _stole up_. A, stole.

209 _her selfe reading a letter_. A, she set close at a
banquet.

213 _I sweare_. A, No, my lord.

215-216 _Why this . . . Oh, the_. A omits, possibly by
mistake.

220 _fraught_. A, freight.

221 _never dreaming of D'Amboys_. A omits.

225 _this_. A, his.

226 _should_. A, could.

227 _made_. A, performed.

_Whispers_. A omits.

233 Between this line and l. 234 A inserts:--

_Char._ I sweare to your Grace, all that I can
conjecture touching my
lady, your neece, is a strong affection she beares
to the English Mylor.

_Gui._ All, quod you? tis enough I assure you; but
tell me.

242 _life_--: between this word and _especially_ A
inserts: if she marks it.

243 _disguise_. A, put off.

247 _from_. A, at.

253 _are_. A, be.

269 _[th]in_. Emend. ed; Qq, in.

273 _great_. A omits.

279 _it_. A, you.

284 _wee_. A, I. _our mercies_. A, my mercy.

303 _miraculous_. A, horrible.

308 _Well, my lord_. A, My lord, tis true, and.

311-312 _Come . . . of them_. A omits.

317 _dark and standing foggs_. A, monster-formed cloudes.

322-336 _But what . . . feares_. Omitted in A, which has
instead:--

I will conceale all yet, and give more time
To D'Ambois triall, now upon my hooke;
He awes my throat; else, like Sybillas cave,
It should breath oracles; I feare him strangely,
And may resemble his advanced valour
Unto a spirit rais'd without a circle,
Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him,
And for whose furie he hath learn'd no limit.

337-391 _Whose there . . . sweet heart_! A omits, though
382-5, with some variations, appear as 326
(half-line)--330 in B. Cf. preceding note.

358 _D'Ambois . . . lord_. So punctuated by ed.; B has:
D'Ambois! why my lord?

394 _browes_. A, head.

397 _Prince_. A, Sir.

400-408 _Why wrongfull . . . oftentimes_. A omits.

409 _Put me in some little doubt_. A, This still hath
made me doubt.

410 _therefore now_. A, for me then.

413-414 _How . . . friendship_. A omits.

414-416 _Then . . . not yours_. Omitted in A, which has
instead: Come, doe not doubt me, and command mee all
things.

417 _to prove which, by_. A, and now by all.

419 _still flourishing tree_. A, affection.

420 _With . . . spring_. A omits.

425 _Plaine as truth_. A omits.

438 _pay me home, ile bide it bravely_. A, begin, and
speake me simply.

447 _strumpet_. A, wife.

460 _thy_. A, that. _the_. A, my.

461 _hath reference_. A, I carrie.

499 _The purest_. A, A perfect.

ACTUS QUARTI SCENA PRIMA.

[_The Banquetting-Hall in the Court._]

_Henry, Monsieur with a letter, Guise, Montsurry, Bussy,
Elynor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Anable, Pyrha,
with foure Pages._

_Henry._ Ladies, ye have not done our banquet right,
Nor lookt upon it with those cheereful rayes
That lately turn'd your breaths to flouds of gold;
Your looks, me thinks, are not drawne out with thoughts
So cleare and free as heretofore, but foule 5
As if the thick complexions of men
Govern'd within them.

_Bussy._ 'Tis not like, my lord,
That men in women rule, but contrary;
For as the moone, of all things God created
Not only is the most appropriate image 10
Or glasse to shew them how they wax and wane,
But in her height and motion likewise beares
Imperiall influences that command
In all their powers, and make them wax and wane:
So women, that, of all things made of nothing, 15
Are the most perfect idols of the moone,
Or still-unwean'd sweet moon-calves with white faces,
Not only are paterns of change to men,
But as the tender moon-shine of their beauties
Cleares or is cloudy, make men glad or sad. 20
So then they rule in men, not men in them.

_Monsieur._ But here the moons are chang'd (as the King notes)
And either men rule in them, or some power
Beyond their voluntary faculty,
For nothing can recover their lost faces. 25

_Montsurry._ None can be alwayes one: our griefes and joyes
Hold severall scepters in us, and have times
For their divided empires: which griefe now in them
Doth prove as proper to his diadem.

_Buss._ And griefe's a naturall sicknesse of the bloud, 30
That time to part asks, as his comming had;
Onely sleight fooles griev'd suddenly are glad.
A man may say t'a dead man, "be reviv'd,"
As well as to one sorrowfull, "be not griev'd."
And therefore (princely mistresse) in all warres 35
Against these base foes that insult on weaknesse,
And still fight hous'd behind the shield of Nature,
Of priviledge law, treachery, or beastly need,
Your servant cannot help; authority here
Goes with corruption, something like some states 40
That back woorst men; valour to them must creepe
That to themselves left would feare him asleepe.

_Duchess._ Ye all take that for granted that doth rest
Yet to be prov'd; we all are as we were,
As merry and as free in thought as ever. 45

_Guise._ And why then can ye not disclose your thoughts?

_Tamyra._ Me thinks the man hath answer'd for us well.

_Mons._ The man! why, madam, d'ee not know his name?

_Tam._ Man is a name of honour for a King:
Additions take away from each chiefe thing. 50
The schoole of modesty not to learne learnes dames:
They sit in high formes there that know mens names.

_Mons._ [_to Bussy._] Heark, sweet heart, here's a bar set to
your valour!
It cannot enter here, no, not to notice
Of what your name is; your great eagles beak 55
(Should you flie at her) had as good encounter
An Albion cliffe as her more craggy liver.

_Buss._ Ile not attempt her, sir; her sight and name
(By which I onely know her) doth deter me.

_Henr._ So doe they all men else.

_Mons._ You would say so, 60
If you knew all.

_Tam._ Knew all, my lord? what meane you?

_Mons._ All that I know, madam.

_Tam._ That you know! Speak it.

_Mons._ No, tis enough I feele it.

_Henr._ But me thinks
Her courtship is more pure then heretofore.
True courtiers should be modest, and not nice; 65
Bold, but not impudent; pleasure love, not vice.

_Mons._ Sweet heart, come hither! what if one should make
Horns at Mountsurry, would it not strike him jealous
Through all the proofes of his chaste ladies vertues?

_Buss._ If he be wise, not. 70

_Mons._ What, not if I should name the gardener
That I would have him think hath grafted him?

_Buss._ So the large licence that your greatnesse uses
To jest at all men may be taught indeed
To make a difference of the grounds you play on, 75
Both in the men you scandall and the matter.

_Mons._ As how, as how?

_Buss._ Perhaps led with a traine
Where you may have your nose made lesse and slit,
Your eyes thrust out.

_Mons._ Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace!
Who dares doe that? the brother of his King! 80

_Buss._ Were your King brother in you; all your powers
(Stretcht in the armes of great men and their bawds)
Set close downe by you; all your stormy lawes
Spouted with lawyers mouthes, and gushing bloud,
Like to so many torrents; all your glories 85
Making you terrible, like enchanted flames,
Fed with bare cockscombs and with crooked hammes,
All your prerogatives, your shames, and tortures,
All daring heaven and opening hell about you--
Were I the man ye wrong'd so and provok'd, 90
(Though ne're so much beneath you) like a box tree
I would out of the roughnesse of my root
Ramme hardnesse in my lownesse, and, like death
Mounted on earthquakes, I would trot through all
Honors and horrors, thorow foule and faire, 95
And from your whole strength tosse you into the aire.

_Mons._ Goe, th'art a devill! such another spirit
Could not be still'd from all th'Armenian dragons.
O, my loves glory! heire to all I have
(That's all I can say, and that all I sweare) 100
If thou out-live me, as I know thou must,
Or else hath Nature no proportion'd end
To her great labours; she hath breath'd a minde
Into thy entrails, of desert to swell
Into another great Augustus Cæsar; 105
Organs and faculties fitted to her greatnesse;
And should that perish like a common spirit,
Nature's a courtier and regards no merit.

_Henr._ Here's nought but whispering with us; like a calme
Before a tempest, when the silent ayre 110
Layes her soft eare close to the earth to hearken
For that she feares steales on to ravish her;
Some fate doth joyne our eares to heare it comming.
Come, my brave eagle, let's to covert flie!
I see almighty Æther in the smoak 115
Of all his clowds descending, and the skie
Hid in the dim ostents of tragedy.
_Exit Henr[y] with D'Amb[ois] & Ladies._

_Guis._ Now stirre the humour, and begin the brawle.

_Mont._ The King and D'Ambois now are growne all one.

_Mons._ Nay, they are two, my lord.

_Mont._ How's that?

_Mons._ No more. 120

_Mont._ I must have more, my lord.

_Mons._ What, more than two?

_Mont._ How monstrous is this!

_Mons._ Why?

_Mont._ You make me horns.

_Mons._ Not I, it is a work without my power,
Married mens ensignes are not made with fingers;
Of divine fabrique they are, not mens hands: 125
Your wife, you know, is a meere Cynthia,
And she must fashion hornes out of her nature.

_Mont._ But doth she? dare you charge her? speak, false prince.

_Mons._ I must not speak, my lord; but if you'l use
The learning of a noble man, and read, 130
Here's something to those points. Soft, you must pawne
Your honour, having read it, to return it.

_Enter Tamira, Pero._

_Mont._ Not I:--I pawne mine honour for a paper!

_Mons._ You must not buy it under. _Exeunt Guise and Monsieur._

_Mont._ Keepe it then,
And keepe fire in your bosome!

_Tam._ What sayes he? 135

_Mont._ You must make good the rest.

_Tam._ How fares my lord?
Takes my love any thing to heart he sayes?

_Mont._ Come, y'are a--

_Tam._ What, my lord?

_Mont._ The plague of Herod
Feast in his rotten entrailes!

_Tam._ Will you wreak
Your angers just cause given by him on me? 140

_Mont._ By him?

_Tam._ By him, my lord. I have admir'd
You could all this time be at concord with him,
That still hath plaid such discords on your honour.

_Mont._ Perhaps tis with some proud string of my wives.

_Tam._ How's that, my lord?

_Mont._ Your tongue will still admire, 145
Till my head be the miracle of the world.

_Tam._ O woe is me! _She seemes to sound._

_Pero._ What does your lordship meane?
Madam, be comforted; my lord but tries you.
Madam! Help, good my lord, are you not mov'd?
Doe your set looks print in your words your thoughts? 150
Sweet lord, cleare up those eyes,
Unbend that masking forehead. Whence is it
You rush upon her with these Irish warres,
More full of sound then hurt? But it is enough;
You have shot home, your words are in her heart; 155
She has not liv'd to beare a triall now.

_Mont._ Look up, my love, and by this kisse receive
My soule amongst thy spirits, for supply
To thine chac'd with my fury.

_Tam._ O, my lord,
I have too long liv'd to heare this from you. 160