The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  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.

  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

&nb
sp; 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.

  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.

  Henry. See, sir, I am come

  To justifie it before men and God,

  Who knowes with what wounds in my heart for woe

  Of your so wounded faith I made these wounds,

  Forc’t to it by an insolence of force 45

  To stirre a stone; nor is a rocke, oppos’d

  To all the billowes of the churlish sea,

  More beate and eaten with them then was I

  With your ambitious, mad idolatrie;

  And this bloud I shed is to save the bloud 50

  Of many thousands.

  Gui. That’s your white pretext;

  But you will finde one drop of bloud shed lawlesse

  Will be the fountaine to a purple sea.

  The present lust and shift made for Kings lives,

  Against the pure forme and just power of law, 55

  Will thrive like shifters purchases; there hangs

  A blacke starre in the skies, to which the sunne

  Gives yet no light, will raine a poyson’d shower

  Into your entrailes, that will make you feele

  How little safetie lies in treacherous steele. 60

  Hen. Well, sir, Ile beare it; y’have a brother to

  Bursts with like threates, the skarlet Cardinall —

  Seeke, and lay hands on him; and take this hence,

  Their blouds, for all you, on my conscience! Exit.

  Gui. So, sir, your full swindge take; mine death hath curb’d. 65

  Clermont, farewell! O didst thou see but this!

  But it is better; see by this the ice

  Broke to thine owne bloud, which thou wilt despise

  When thou hear’st mine shed. Is there no friend here

  Will beare my love to him?

  Aumale. I will, my lord. 70

  Gui. Thankes with my last breath: recommend me, then,

  To the most worthy of the race of men. Dyes. Exeunt.

  SCÆNA QUINTA.

  A Room in Montsurry’s House.]

  Enter Monts[urry] and Tamyra.

  Montsurry. Who have you let into my house?

  Tamyra. I? none.

  Mont. Tis false; I savour the rancke bloud of foes

  In every corner.

  Tam. That you may doe well;

  It is the bloud you lately shed you smell.

  Mont. Sdeath! the vault opens. The gulfe opens.

  Tam. What vault? hold your sword. 5

  Clermont ascends.

  Clermont. No, let him use it.

  Mont. Treason! murther! murther!

  Cler. Exclaime not; tis in vaine, and base in you,

  Being one to onely one.

  Mont. O bloudy strumpet!

  Cler. With what bloud charge you her? it may be mine

  As well as yours; there shall not any else 10