Cler. Nought that is
Approv’d by reason can be cowardise.
Char. Dispute, when you should fight! Wrong, wreaklesse
sleeping,
Makes men dye honorlesse; one borne, another 105
Leapes on our shoulders.
Cler. Wee must wreake our wrongs
So as wee take not more.
Char. One wreakt in time
Prevents all other. Then shines vertue most
When time is found for facts; and found, not lost.
Cler. No time occurres to Kings, much lesse to vertue; 110
Nor can we call it vertue that proceedes
From vicious fury. I repent that ever
(By any instigation in th’appearance
My brothers spirit made, as I imagin’d)
That e’er I yeelded to revenge his murther. 115
All worthy men should ever bring their bloud
To beare all ill, not to be wreakt with good.
Doe ill for no ill; never private cause
Should take on it the part of publike lawes.
Char. A D’Ambois beare in wrong so tame a spirit! 120
Ren. Madame, be sure there will be time enough
For all the vengeance your great spirit can wish.
The course yet taken is allow’d by all,
Which being noble, and refus’d by th’Earle,
Now makes him worthy of your worst advantage: 125
And I have cast a project with the Countesse
To watch a time when all his wariest guards
Shall not exempt him. Therefore give him breath;
Sure death delaid is a redoubled death.
Cler. Good sister, trouble not your selfe with this: 130
Take other ladyes care; practise your face.
There’s the chaste matron, Madame Perigot,
Dwels not farre hence; Ile ride and send her to you.
Shee did live by retailing mayden-heads
In her minoritie; but now shee deales 135
In whole-sale altogether for the Court.
I tell you, shee’s the onely fashion-monger,
For your complexion, poudring of your haire,
Shadowes, rebatoes, wires, tyres, and such trickes,
That Cambray or, I thinke, the Court affords. 140
She shall attend you, sister, and with these
Womanly practises emply your spirit;
This other suites you not, nor fits the fashion.
Though shee be deare, lay’t on, spare for no cost;
Ladies in these have all their bounties lost. 145
Ren. Madame, you see, his spirit will not checke
At any single danger, when it stands
Thus merrily firme against an host of men,
Threaten’d to be [in] armes for his surprise.
Char. That’s a meere bugge-beare, an impossible mocke. 150
If hee, and him I bound by nuptiall faith,
Had not beene dull and drossie in performing
Wreake of the deare bloud of my matchlesse brother,
What Prince, what King, which of the desperat’st ruffings,
Outlawes in Arden, durst have tempted thus 155
One of our bloud and name, be’t true or false?
Cler. This is not caus’d by that; twill be as sure
As yet it is not, though this should be true.
Char. True, tis past thought false.
Cler. I suppose the worst,
Which farre I am from thinking; and despise 160
The armie now in battaile that should act it.
[Char.] I would not let my bloud up to that thought,
But it should cost the dearest bloud in France.
Cler. Sweet sister, (osculatur) farre be both off as the fact
Of my fain’d apprehension.
Char. I would once 165
Strip off my shame with my attire, and trie
If a poore woman, votist of revenge,
Would not performe it with a president
To all you bungling, foggy-spirited men.
But for our birth-rights honour, doe not mention 170
One syllable of any word may goe
To the begetting of an act so tender
And full of sulphure as this letters truth:
It comprehends so blacke a circumstance
Not to be nam’d, that but to forme one thought, 175
It is or can be so, would make me mad.
Come, my lord, you and I will fight this dreame
Out at the chesse.
Ren. Most gladly, worthiest ladie.
Exeunt Char[lotte] and Ren[el].
Enter a Messenger.
Messenger. Sir, my Lord Governours Lieutenant prayes
Accesse to you.
Cler. Himselfe alone?
Mess. Alone, sir. 180
Cler. Attend him in. (Exit Messenger.) Now comes this plot to
tryall;
I shall descerne (if it be true as rare)
Some sparkes will flye from his dissembling eyes.
Ile sound his depth.
Enter Maillard with the Messenger.
Maillard. Honour, and all things noble!
Cler. As much to you, good Captaine. What’s th’affaire? 185
Mail. Sir, the poore honour we can adde to all
Your studyed welcome to this martiall place,
In presentation of what strength consists
My lord your brothers government, is readie.
I have made all his troopes and companies 190
Advance and put themselves in battailia,
That you may see both how well arm’d they are
How strong is every troope and companie,
How ready, and how well prepar’d for service.
Cler. And must they take mee?
Mail. Take you, sir! O heaven! 195
Mess. [aside, to Clermont]. Beleeve it, sir, his count’nance
chang’d in turning.
Mail. What doe you meane, sir?
Cler. If you have charg’d them,
You being charg’d your selfe, to apprehend mee,
Turne not your face; throw not your lookes about so.
Mail. Pardon me, sir. You amaze me to conceive 200
From whence our wils to honour you should turne
To such dishonour of my lord, your brother.
Dare I, without him, undertake your taking?
Cler. Why not? by your direct charge from the King.
Mail. By my charge from the King! would he so much 205
Disgrace my lord, his owne Lieutenant here,
To give me his command without his forfaite?
Cler. Acts that are done by Kings, are not askt why.
Ile not dispute the case, but I will search you.
Mail. Search mee! for what?
Cler. For letters.
Mail. I beseech you, 210
Doe not admit one thought of such a shame
To a commander.
Cler. Goe to! I must doo’t.
Stand and be searcht; you know mee.
Mail. You forget
What tis to be a captaine, and your selfe.
Cler. Stand, or I vow to heaven, Ile make you lie, 215
Never to rise more.
Mail. If a man be mad,
Reason must beare him.
Cler. So coy to be searcht?
Mail. Sdeath, sir, use a captaine like a carrier!
Cler. Come, be not furious; when I have done,
You shall make such a carrier of me, 220
If’t be your pleasure: you’re my friend, I know,
And so am bold with you.
Mail. You’ll nothing finde
Where nothing is.
Cler. Sweare you have nothing.
Mail. Nothing you seeke, I sweare. I beseech you,
Know I desir’d this out of great affection, 225
To th’end my lord may know out of your witnesse
His forces are not
in so bad estate
As hee esteem’d them lately in your hearing;
For which he would not trust me with the confines,
But went himselfe to witnesse their estate. 230
Cler. I heard him make that reason, and am sorie
I had no thought of it before I made
Thus bold with you, since tis such ruberb to you.
Ile therefore search no more. If you are charg’d
(By letters from the King, or otherwise) 235
To apprehend me, never spice it more
With forc’d tearmes of your love, but say: I yeeld;
Holde, take my sword, here; I forgive thee freely;
Take; doe thine office.
Mail. Sfoote! you make m’a hang-man;
By all my faith to you, there’s no such thing. 240
Cler. Your faith to mee!
Mail. My faith to God; all’s one:
Who hath no faith to men, to God hath none.
Cler. In that sense I accept your othe, and thanke you.
I gave my word to goe, and I will goe. Exit Cler[mont].
Mail. Ile watch you whither. Exit Mail[lard].
Mess. If hee goes, hee proves 245
How vaine are mens fore knowledges of things,
When heaven strikes blinde their powers of note and use,
And makes their way to ruine seeme more right
Then that which safetie opens to their sight.
Cassandra’s prophecie had no more profit 250
With Troyes blinde citizens, when shee foretolde
Troyes ruine; which, succeeding, made her use
This sacred inclamation: “God” (said shee)
“Would have me utter things uncredited;
For which now they approve what I presag’d; 255
They count me wise, that said before, I rag’d.” [Exit.]
SCÆNA TERTIA.
A Camp near Cambrai.]
Enter Challon with two Souldiers.
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
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,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 216
