The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

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 serv
ices 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 murt
hering 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.

  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