Chapter IX: Epilogue (3)

_Chalon._ Come, souldiers: you are downewards fit for lackies;
Give me your pieces, and take you these coates,
To make you compleate foot men, in whose formes
You must be compleate souldiers: you two onely
Stand for our armie.

_1[st Soldier.]_ That were much.

_Chal._ Tis true; 5
You two must doe, or enter, what our armie
Is now in field for.

_2[d Sol.]_ I see then our guerdon
Must be the deede it selfe, twill be such honour.

_Chal._ What fight souldiers most for?

_1[st Sol.]_ Honour onely.

_Chal._ Yet here are crownes beside.

_Ambo._ We thanke you, Captaine. 10

_2[d Sol.]_ Now, sir, how show wee?

_Chal._ As you should at all parts.
Goe now to Clermont D'Ambois, and informe him,
Two battailes are set ready in his honour,
And stay his presence onely for their signall,
When they shall joyne; and that, t'attend him hither 15
Like one wee so much honour, wee have sent him--

_1[st Sol.]_ Us two in person.

_Chal._ Well, sir, say it so;
And having brought him to the field, when I
Fall in with him, saluting, get you both
Of one side of his horse, and plucke him downe, 20
And I with th'ambush laid will second you.

_1[st Sol.]_ Nay, we shall lay on hands of too much strength
To neede your secondings.

_2[d Sol.]_ I hope we shall.
Two are enough to encounter Hercules.

_Chal._ Tis well said, worthy souldiers; hast, and hast him.
[_Exeunt._] 25

LINENOTES:

_Exeunt._ Q, Exit.

[SCÆNA QUARTA.

_A Room in the Governor's Castle at Cambrai._]

_Enter Clermont, Maillard close following him._

_Clermont._ My Scotch horse to their armie--

_Maillard._ Please you, sir?

_Cler._ Sdeath! you're passing diligent.

_Mail._ Of my soule,
Tis onely in my love to honour you
With what would grace the King: but since I see
You still sustaine a jealous eye on mee, 5
Ile goe before.

_Cler._ Tis well; Ile come; my hand.

_Mail._ Your hand, sir! Come, your word; your choise be us'd.
_Exit._

_Clermont solus._

_Cler._ I had an aversation to this voyage,
When first my brother mov'd it, and have found
That native power in me was never vaine; 10
Yet now neglected it. I wonder much
At my inconstancie in these decrees
I every houre set downe to guide my life.
When Homer made Achilles passionate,
Wrathfull, revengefull, and insatiate 15
In his affections, what man will denie
He did compose it all of industrie
To let men see that men of most renowne,
Strong'st, noblest, fairest, if they set not downe
Decrees within them, for disposing these, 20
Of judgement, resolution, uprightnesse,
And certaine knowledge of their use and ends,
Mishap and miserie no lesse extends
To their destruction, with all that they pris'd,
Then to the poorest and the most despis'd? 25

_Enter Renel._

_Renel._ Why, how now, friend, retir'd! take heede you prove not
Dismaid with this strange fortune. All observe you:
Your government's as much markt as the Kings.
What said a friend to Pompey?

_Cler._ What?

_Ren._ The people
Will never know, unlesse in death thou trie, 30
That thou know'st how to beare adversitie.

_Cler._ I shall approve how vile I value feare
Of death at all times; but to be too rash,
Without both will and care to shunne the worst,
(It being in power to doe well and with cheere) 35
Is stupid negligence and worse then feare.

_Ren._ Suppose this true now.

_Cler._ No, I cannot doo't.
My sister truely said, there hung a taile
Of circumstance so blacke on that supposure,
That to sustaine it thus abhorr'd our mettall. 40
And I can shunne it too, in spight of all,
Not going to field; and there to, being so mounted
As I will, since I goe.

_Ren._ You will then goe?

_Cler._ I am engag'd both in my word and hand.
But this is it that makes me thus retir'd, 45
To call my selfe t'account, how this affaire
Is to be manag'd, if the worst should chance:
With which I note, how dangerous it is
For any man to prease beyond the place
To which his birth, or meanes, or knowledge ties him. 50
For my part, though of noble birth, my birthright
Had little left it, and I know tis better
To live with little, and to keepe within
A mans owne strength still, and in mans true end,
Then runne a mixt course. Good and bad hold never 55
Any thing common; you can never finde
Things outward care, but you neglect your minde.
God hath the whole world perfect made and free;
His parts to th'use of th'All. Men, then, that are
Parts of that All, must, as the generall sway 60
Of that importeth, willingly obay
In every thing without their power to change.
Hee that, unpleas'd to hold his place, will range,
Can in no other be contain'd that's fit,
And so resisting th'All is crusht with it: 65
But he that knowing how divine a frame
The whole world is, and of it all can name
(Without selfe-flatterie) no part so divine
As hee himselfe; and therefore will confine
Freely his whole powers in his proper part, 70
Goes on most God-like. Hee that strives t'invert
The Universals course with his poore way,
Not onely dust-like shivers with the sway,
But crossing God in his great worke, all earth
Beares not so cursed and so damn'd a birth. 75

_Ren._ Goe on; Ile take no care what comes of you;
Heaven will not see it ill, how ere it show.
But the pretext to see these battailes rang'd
Is much your honour.

_Cler._ As the world esteemes it.
But to decide that, you make me remember 80
An accident of high and noble note,
And fits the subject of my late discourse
Of holding on our free and proper way.
I over-tooke, comming from Italie,
In Germanie a great and famous Earle 85
Of England, the most goodly fashion'd man
I ever saw; from head to foote in forme
Rare and most absolute; hee had a face
Like one of the most ancient honour'd Romanes
From whence his noblest familie was deriv'd; 90
He was beside of spirit passing great,
Valiant, and learn'd, and liberall as the sunne,
Spoke and writ sweetly, or of learned subjects,
Or of the discipline of publike weales;
And t'was the Earle of Oxford: and being offer'd 95
At that time, by Duke Cassimere, the view
Of his right royall armie then in field,
Refus'd it, and no foote was mov'd to stirre
Out of his owne free fore-determin'd course.
I, wondring at it, askt for it his reason, 100
It being an offer so much for his honour.
Hee, all acknowledging, said t'was not fit
To take those honours that one cannot quit.

_Ren._ Twas answer'd like the man you have describ'd.

_Cler._ And yet he cast it onely in the way, 105
To stay and serve the world. Nor did it fit
His owne true estimate how much it waigh'd;
For hee despis'd it, and esteem'd it freer
To keepe his owne way straight, and swore that hee
Had rather make away his whole estate 110
In things that crost the vulgar then he would
Be frozen up stiffe (like a Sir John Smith,
His countrey-man) in common Nobles fashions;
Affecting, as't the end of noblesse were,
Those servile observations.

_Ren._ It was strange. 115

_Cler._ O tis a vexing sight to see a man,
Out of his way, stalke proud as hee were in;
Out of his way, to be officious,
Observant, wary, serious, and grave,
Fearefull, and passionate, insulting, raging, 120
Labour with iron flailes to thresh downe feathers
Flitting in ayre.

_Ren._ What one considers this,
Of all that are thus out? or once endevours,
Erring, to enter on mans right-hand path?

_Cler._ These are too grave for brave wits; give them toyes; 125
Labour bestow'd on these is harsh and thriftlesse.
If you would Consull be (sayes one) of Rome,
You must be watching, starting out of sleepes;
Every way whisking; gloryfying Plebeians;
Kissing Patricians hands, rot at their dores; 130
Speake and doe basely; every day bestow
Gifts and observance upon one or other:
And what's th'event of all? Twelve rods before thee;
Three or foure times sit for the whole tribunall;
Exhibite Circean games; make publike feasts; 135
And for these idle outward things (sayes he)
Would'st thou lay on such cost, toile, spend thy spirits?
And to be voide of perturbation,
For constancie, sleepe when thou would'st have sleepe,
Wake when thou would'st wake, feare nought, vexe for nought, 140
No paines wilt thou bestow? no cost? no thought?

_Ren._ What should I say? As good consort with you
As with an angell; I could heare you ever.

_Cler._ Well, in, my lord, and spend time with my sister,
And keepe her from the field with all endeavour. 145
The souldiers love her so, and shee so madly
Would take my apprehension, if it chance,
That bloud would flow in rivers.

_Ren._ Heaven forbid!
And all with honour your arrivall speede! _Exit._

_Enter Messenger with two Souldiers like Lackies._

_Messenger._ Here are two lackies, sir, have message to you. 150

_Cler._ What is your message? and from whom, my friends?

_1[st Soldier.]_ From the Lieutenant, Colonell, and the
Captaines,
Who sent us to informe you that the battailes
Stand ready rang'd, expecting but your presence
To be their honor'd signall when to joyne, 155
And we are charg'd to runne by, and attend you.

_Cler._ I come. I pray you see my running horse
Brought to the backe-gate to mee.

_Mess._ Instantly. _Exit Mess[enger]._

_Cler._ Chance what can chance mee, well or ill is equall
In my acceptance, since I joy in neyther, 160
But goe with sway of all the world together.
In all successes Fortune and the day
To mee alike are; I am fixt, be shee
Never so fickle; and will there repose,
Farre past the reach of any dye she throwes. 165
_Ex[it] cum Pediss[equis]._

_Finis Actus tertii._

LINENOTES:

114 _as't_. Emended by ed.; Q, as.

ACTUS QUARTI SCÆNA PRIMA.

[_A Parade-Ground near Cambrai._]

_Alarum within: Excursions over the Stage._

_The [Soldiers disguised as] Lackies running, Maillard
following them._

_Maillard._ Villaines, not hold him when ye had him downe!

_1[st Soldier.]_ Who can hold lightning? Sdeath a man as well
Might catch a canon bullet in his mouth,
And spit it in your hands, as take and hold him.

_Mail._ Pursue, enclose him! stand or fall on him, 5
And yee may take him. Sdeath! they make him guards. _Exit._

_Alarum still, and enter Chalon._

_Challon._ Stand, cowards, stand; strike, send your bullets at him.

_1[st Soldier.]_ Wee came to entertaine him, sir, for honour.

_2[d Soldier.]_ Did ye not say so?

_Chal._ Slaves, hee is a traitor;
Command the horse troopes to over-runne the traitor.
_Exeunt._ 10

_Shouts within. Alarum still, and Chambers shot off.
Then enter Aumall._

_Aumale._ What spirit breathes thus in this more then man,
Turnes flesh to ayre possest, and in a storme
Teares men about the field like autumne leaves?
He turnd wilde lightning in the lackies hands,
Who, though their sodaine violent twitch unhorst him, 15
Yet when he bore himselfe, their saucie fingers
Flew as too hot off, as hee had beene fire.
The ambush then made in, through all whose force
Hee drave as if a fierce and fire-given canon
Had spit his iron vomit out amongst them. 20
The battailes then in two halfe-moones enclos'd him,
In which he shew'd as if he were the light,
And they but earth, who, wondring what hee was,
Shruncke their steele hornes and gave him glorious passe.
And as a great shot from a towne besieg'd 25
At foes before it flyes forth blacke and roring,
But they too farre, and that with waight opprest
(As if disdaining earth) doth onely grasse,
Strike earth, and up againe into the ayre,
Againe sinkes to it, and againe doth rise, 30
And keepes such strength that when it softliest moves
It piece-meale shivers any let it proves--
So flew brave Clermont forth, till breath forsooke him,
Then fell to earth; and yet (sweet man) even then
His spirits convulsions made him bound againe 35
Past all their reaches; till, all motion spent,
His fixt eyes cast a blaze of such disdaine,
All stood and star'd, and untouch'd let him lie,
As something sacred fallen out of the skie. _A cry within._
O now some rude hand hath laid hold on him! 40

_Enter Maillard, Chalon leading Clermont, Captaines and
Souldiers following._

See, prisoner led, with his bands honour'd more
Then all the freedome he enjoy'd before.

_Mail._ At length wee have you, sir.

_Clermont._ You have much joy too;
I made you sport. Yet, but I pray you tell mee,
Are not you perjur'd?

_Mail._ No: I swore for the King. 45

_Cler._ Yet perjurie, I hope, is perjurie.

_Mail._ But thus forswearing is not perjurie.
You are no politician: not a fault,
How foule soever, done for private ends,
Is fault in us sworne to the publike good: 50
Wee never can be of the damned crew;
Wee may impolitique our selves (as 'twere)
Into the kingdomes body politique,
Whereof indeede we're members; you misse termes.

_Cler._ The things are yet the same. 55

_Mail._ Tis nothing so; the propertie is alter'd:
Y'are no lawyer. Or say that othe and othe
Are still the same in number, yet their species
Differ extreamely, as, for flat example,
When politique widowes trye men for their turne, 60
Before they wed them, they are harlots then,
But when they wed them, they are honest women:
So private men, when they forsweare, betray,
Are perjur'd treachers, but being publique once,
That is, sworne-married to the publique good-- 65

_Cler._ Are married women publique?

_Mail._ Publique good;
For marriage makes them, being the publique good,
And could not be without them: so I say
Men publique, that is, being sworne-married
To the good publique, being one body made 70
With the realmes body politique, are no more
Private, nor can be perjur'd, though forsworne,
More then a widow married, for the act
Of generation is for that an harlot,
Because for that shee was so, being unmarried: 75
An argument _a paribus_.

_Chal._ Tis a shrow'd one.

_Cler._ "Who hath no faith to men, to God hath none:"
Retaine you that, sir? who said so?

_Mail._ Twas I.

_Cler._ Thy owne tongue damne thy infidelitie!
But, Captaines all, you know me nobly borne; 80
Use yee t'assault such men as I with lackyes?

_Chal._ They are no lackyes, sir, but souldiers
Disguis'd in lackyes coates.

_1 Sold._ Sir, wee have seene the enemie.

_Cler._ Avant! yee rascols, hence!

_Mail._ Now leave your coates.

_Cler._ Let me not see them more. 85

_Aum._ I grieve that vertue lives so undistinguisht
From vice in any ill, and though the crowne
Of soveraigne law, shee should be yet her footstoole,
Subject to censure, all the shame and paine
Of all her rigor.

_Cler._ Yet false policie 90
Would cover all, being like offenders hid,
That (after notice taken where they hide)
The more they crouch and stirre, the more are spide.

_Aum._ I wonder how this chanc'd you.

_Cler._ Some informer,
Bloud-hound to mischiefe, usher to the hang-man, 95
Thirstie of honour for some huge state act,
Perceiving me great with the worthy Guise,
And he (I know not why) held dangerous,
Made me the desperate organe of his danger,
Onely with that poore colour: tis the common 100
And more then whore-like tricke of treacherie
And vermine bred to rapine and to ruine,
For which this fault is still to be accus'd;
Since good acts faile, crafts and deceits are us'd.
If it be other, never pittie mee. 105

_Aum._ Sir, we are glad, beleeve it, and have hope
The King will so conceit it.

_Cler._ At his pleasure.
In meane time, what's your will, Lord Lieutenant?

_Mail._ To leave your owne horse, and to mount the trumpets.

_Cler._ It shall be done. This heavily prevents 110
My purpos'd recreation in these parts;
Which now I thinke on, let mee begge you, sir,
To lend me some one captaine of your troopes,
To beare the message of my haplesse service
And miserie to my most noble mistresse, 115
Countesse of Cambray; to whose house this night
I promist my repaire, and know most truely,
With all the ceremonies of her favour,
She sure expects mee.

_Mail._ Thinke you now on that?

_Cler._ On that, sir? I, and that so worthily, 120
That if the King, in spight of your great service,
Would send me instant promise of enlargement,
Condition I would set this message by,
I would not take it, but had rather die.

_Aum._ Your message shall be done, sir: I, my selfe, 125
Will be for you a messenger of ill.

_Cler._ I thanke you, sir, and doubt not yet to live
To quite your kindnesse.

_Aum._ Meane space use your spirit
And knowledge for the chearfull patience
Of this so strange and sodaine consequence. 130

_Cler._ Good sir, beleeve that no particular torture
Can force me from my glad obedience
To any thing the high and generall Cause,
To match with his whole fabricke, hath ordainde;
And know yee all (though farre from all your aymes, 135
Yet worth them all, and all mens endlesse studies)
That in this one thing, all the discipline
Of manners and of manhood is contain'd:--
A man to joyne himselfe with th'Universe
In his maine sway, and make (in all things fit) 140
One with that all, and goe on round as it;
Not plucking from the whole his wretched part,
And into straites, or into nought revert,
Wishing the compleate Universe might be
Subject to such a ragge of it as hee; 145
But to consider great Necessitie
All things, as well refract as voluntarie,
Reduceth to the prime celestiall cause;
Which he that yeelds to with a mans applause,
And cheeke by cheeke goes, crossing it no breath, 150
But like Gods image followes to the death,
That man is truely wise, and every thing
(Each cause and every part distinguishing)
In nature with enough art understands,
And that full glory merits at all hands 155
That doth the whole world at all parts adorne,
And appertaines to one celestiall borne. _Exeunt omnes._

LINENOTES:

_Exeunt._ Q, Exit.

54 _We're_. Q, We'are.

[SCÆNA SECUNDA.

_A Room at the Court in Paris._]

_Enter Baligny, Renel._

_Baligny._ So foule a scandall never man sustain'd,
Which caus'd by th'King is rude and tyrannous:
Give me a place, and my Lieutenant make
The filler of it!

_Renel._ I should never looke
For better of him; never trust a man 5
For any justice, that is rapt with pleasure;
To order armes well, that makes smockes his ensignes,
And his whole governments sayles: you heard of late
Hee had the foure and twenty wayes of venerie
Done all before him.

_Bal._ Twas abhorr'd and beastly. 10

_Ren._ Tis more then natures mightie hand can doe
To make one humane and a letcher too.
Looke how a wolfe doth like a dogge appeare,
So like a friend is an adulterer;
Voluptuaries, and these belly-gods, 15
No more true men are then so many toads.
A good man happy is a common good;
Vile men advanc'd live of the common bloud.

_Bal._ Give, and then take, like children!

_Ren._ Bounties are
As soone repented as they happen rare. 20

_Bal._ What should Kings doe, and men of eminent places,
But, as they gather, sow gifts to the graces?
And where they have given, rather give againe
(Being given for vertue) then, like babes and fooles,
Take and repent gifts? why are wealth and power? 25

_Ren._ Power and wealth move to tyranny, not bountie;
The merchant for his wealth is swolne in minde,
When yet the chiefe lord of it is the winde.

_Bal._ That may so chance to our state-merchants too;
Something performed, that hath not farre to goe. 30

_Ren._ That's the maine point, my lord; insist on that.

_Bal._ But doth this fire rage further? hath it taken
The tender tynder of my wifes sere bloud?
Is shee so passionate?

_Ren._ So wilde, so mad,
Shee cannot live and this unwreakt sustaine. 35
The woes are bloudy that in women raigne.
The Sicile gulfe keepes feare in lesse degree;
There is no tyger not more tame then shee.

_Bal._ There is no looking home, then?

_Ren._ Home! Medea
With all her hearbs, charmes, thunders, lightning, 40
Made not her presence and blacke hants more dreadfull.

_Bal._ Come, to the King; if he reforme not all,
Marke the event, none stand where that must fall. _Exeunt._

[SCÆNA TERTIA.

_A Room in the House of the Countess of Cambrai._]

_Enter Countesse, Riova, and an Usher._

_Usher._ Madame, a captaine come from Clermont D'Ambois
Desires accesse to you.

_Countess._ And not himselfe?

_Ush._ No, madame.

_Count._ That's not well. Attend him in.
_Exit Ush[er]._
The last houre of his promise now runne out!
And hee breake, some brack's in the frame of nature 5
That forceth his breach.

_Enter Usher and Aumal._

_Aumale._ Save your ladiship!

_Coun._ All welcome! Come you from my worthy servant?

_Aum._ I, madame, and conferre such newes from him--

_Coun._ Such newes! what newes?

_Aum._ Newes that I wish some other had the charge of. 10

_Coun._ O, what charge? what newes?

_Aum._ Your ladiship must use some patience,
Or else I cannot doe him that desire
He urg'd with such affection to your graces.

_Coun._ Doe it, for heavens love, doe it! if you serve 15
His kinde desires, I will have patience.
Is hee in health?

_Aum._ He is.

_Count._ Why, that's the ground
Of all the good estate wee hold in earth;
All our ill built upon that is no more
Then wee may beare, and should; expresse it all. 20

_Aum._ Madame, tis onely this; his libertie--

_Coun._ His libertie! Without that health is nothing.
Why live I, but to aske in doubt of that?
Is that bereft him?

_Aum._ You'll againe prevent me.

_Coun._ No more, I sweare; I must heare, and together 25
Come all my miserie! Ile hold, though I burst.

_Aum._ Then, madame, thus it fares; he was envited,
By way of honour to him, to take view
Of all the powers his brother Baligny
Hath in his government; which rang'd in battailes, 30
Maillard, Lieutenant to the Governour,
Having receiv'd strickt letters from the King,
To traine him to the musters and betray him
To their supprise; which, with Chalon in chiefe,
And other captaines (all the field put hard 35
By his incredible valour for his scape)
They haplesly and guiltlesly perform'd;
And to Bastile hee's now led prisoner.

_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.