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.
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.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 207
