The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  Only once every leap-year, in which, if

  The debtor may be won for a French Crown,

  To pay a Soulz, he shall be registred

  His benefactor.

  Ver. The Chancellor hears you.

  Grand. Fear not, I now dare speak as loud as he,

  And will be heard, and have all I speak, Law;

  Have you no eyes? there is a reverence due,

  From Children of the Gown, to Men of Action.

  Gis. How’s this?

  Gran. Even so; the times, the times are chang’d,

  All business is not now prefer’d in Parchment,

  Nor shall a grant pass that wants this broad seal;

  This seal d’ye see? your gravity once laid

  My head and heels together in the Dungeon,

  For cracking a scald Officers crown, for which

  A time is come for vengeance, and expert it;

  For know, you have not full three hours to live.

  Gis. Yes, somewhat longer.

  Gran. To what end?

  Gis. To hang you; think on that, Ruffian.

  Gran. For you, School-master,

  You have a pretty Daughter; let me see,

  Near three a Clock, (by which time I much fear,

  I shall be tyr’d with killing some five hundred)

  Provide a Bath, and her to entertain me,

  And that shall be your Ransom.

  Bald. Impudent Rascal.

  Enter to them Trevile and Duprete.

  Gis. More of the crew?

  Grand. What are you? Rollians?

  Tre. No; this for Rolloy and all such as serve him;

  We stand for Otto.

  Grand. You seem men of fashion,

  And therefore I’le deal fairly, you shall have

  The honour this day to be Chronicled

  The first men kill’d by Grandpree; you see this sword,

  A pretty foolish toy, my valour’s Servant,

  And I may boldly say a Gentleman,

  It having made when it was Charlemaigns,

  Three thousand Knights; this, Sir, shall cut your throat,

  And do you all fair service else.

  Tre. I kiss your hands for the good offer; here’s another

  too, the servant of your servant shall be proud to be scour’d

  in your sweet guts; till when pray you command me.

  Grand. Your Idolater, Sir. [Exeunt. Manent Gis. & Bal.

  Gis. That e’re such should hold the names of men,

  Or Justice be held cruelty, when it labours

  To pluck such weeds up!

  Bald. Yet they are protected, and by the great ones.

  Gis. Not the good ones, Baldwin.

  Enter to them Aubrey.

  Aub. Is this a time to be spent thus by such

  As are the principal Ministers of the State?

  When they that are the heads, have fill’d the Court

  With factions, a weak Woman only left

  To stay their bloudy hands? can her weak arms

  Alone divert the dangers ready now

  To fall upon the Common-wealth, and bury

  The honours of it, leaving not the name

  Of what it was. Oh Gisbert, the fair tryals,

  And frequent proofs which our late master made,

  Both of your love and faith, gave him assurance,

  To chuse you at his death a Guardian; nay,

  A Father to his Sons; and that great trust,

  How ill do you discharge! I must be plain,

  That, at the best, y’are a sad looker on

  Of those bad practices you should prevent.

  And where’s the use of your Philosophy

  In this so needful a time? be not secure;

  For, Baldwin, be assur’d, since that the Princes,

  When they were young, and apt for any form,

  Were given to your instruction, and grave ordering;

  ‘Twill be expected that they should be good,

  Or their bad manners will b’ imputed yours.

  Bald. ’Twas not in one, my Lord, to alter nature.

  Gis. Nor can my counsels work on them that will not

  Vouchsafe me hearing.

  Aub. Do these answers sort,

  Or with your place, or persons, or your years?

  Can Gisbert being the pillar of the Laws,

  See them trod under foot, or forc’d to serve

  The Princes unjust ends; and with a frown

  Be silenc’d from exclaiming on th’ abuse?

  Or Baldwin only weep the desp’rate madness

  Of his seduced pupills? see their minds,

  Which with good Arts he labour’d to build up

  Examples of succeeding times, o’return’d

  By undermining parasites; no one precept

  Leading to any Art, or great, or good,

  But is forc’d from their memory, in whose room

  Black counsels are receiv’d, and their retirements,

  And secret conference producing only

  Dev’lish designs, a man would shame to father;

  But I talk when I should do, and chide others

  For that I now offend in: see’t confirm’d,

  Now do, or never speak more.

  Gis. We are yours.

  Enter Rollo, Latorch, Trevile, Grandpree, Otto, Verdon, and Duprete.

  Rol. You shall know who I am.

  Otto. I do, my equal.

  Rol. Thy Prince; give way — were we alone, I’de force thee,

  In thy best bloud, to write thy self my subject,

  And glad I would receive it.

  Aub. Sir.

  Gis. Dear Lord.

  Otto. Thy subject?

  Rol. Yes, nor shall tame patience hold me

  A minute longer, only half my self;

  My birth gave me this Dukedom, and my sword

  Shall change it to the common grave of all

  That tread upon her bosom, e’re I part with

  A piece of earth, or title that is mine.

  Otto. It needs not, and I would scorn to receive,

  Though offer’d, what I want not: therefore know

  From me, though not deliver’d in great words,

  Eyes red with rage, poor pride, and threatned action;

  Our Father at his death, then, when no accent,

  Wer’t thou a Son, could fall from him in vain,

  Made us Co-heirs, our part of Land and Honours

  Of equal weight; and to see this confirm’d,

  The Oaths of these are yet upon record,

  Who though they should forsake me, and call down

  The plagues of perjury on their sinful heads,

  I would not leave my self.

  Tre. Nor will we see the Will of the dead Duke infring’d.

  Lat. Nor I the elder rob’d of what’s his right.

  Grand. Nor you?

  Let me take place, I say, I will not see’t;

  My sword is sharpest.

  Aub. Peace you tinder-boxes,

  That only carry matter to make a flame,

  Which will consume you.

  Rol. You are troublesome [To Baldwin.

  This is no time for arguments, my Title

  Needs not your School-defences, but my sword,

  With which the Gordian of your Sophistry

  Being cut, shall shew th’ Imposture. For your laws ( To Gisbert.

  It is in me to change them when I please,

  I being above them; Gisbert, would you have me protect them;

  Let them now stretch their extreamest rigour,

  And seize upon that Traytor; and your tongue

  Make him appear first dangerous, then odious;

  And after, under the pretence of safety

  For the sick State, the Lands and Peoples quiet,

  Cut off his head: and Pie give up my sword,

  And fight with them at a more certain weapon

  To kill, and with Authority.
r />   Gis. Sir, I grant the Laws are useful weapons, but found out

  T’assure the Innocent, not to oppress.

  Rol. Then you conclude him Innocent?

  Gis. The power your Father gave him, must not prove a

  Aub. Nor should you so receive it. ‘(Crime.

  Bald. To which purpose,

  All that dare challenge any part in goodness,

  Will become suppliants to you.

  Rol. They have none

  That dare move me in this: hence, I defie you,

  Be of his party, bring’lt to your Laws,

  And thou thy double heart, thou popular fool,

  Your moral rules of justice and her ballance;

  I stand on mine own guard.

  Otto. Which thy unjustice

  Will make thy enemies; by the memory

  Of him, whose better part now suffers for thee,

  Whose reverend ashes with an impious hand

  Thou throw’st out to contempt, in thy repining

  At this so just decree; thou art unworthy

  Of what his last Will, not thy merits, gave thee,

  That art so swoln within, with all those mischiefs

  That e’re made up a Tyrant, that thy breast,

  The prison of thy purposes, cannot hold them,

  But that they break forth, and in thy own words

  Discover, what a monster they must serve

  That shall acknowledge thee.

  Rol. Thou shalt not live to be so happy.

  Aub. Nor your miseries begin in murther.

  [He offers his sword at Otto, the faction joyning,

  [Aubrey between severs the Brothers.

  Duty, allegeance, and all respects of what you are, forsake me:

  Do you stare on? is this a Theater?

  Or shall these kill themselves, like to mad fencers,

  To make you sport? keep them asunder, or

  By Heaven I’le charge on all.

  Grand. Keep the peace,

  I am for you, my Lord, and if you’l have me,

  Fie act the Constables part.

  Aub. Live I to see this?

  Will you do that your enemies dare not wish,

  And cherish in your selves those furies, which

  Hell would cast out? Do, I am ready; kill me,

  And these, that would fall willing sacrifices

  To any power that would restore your reason,

  And make you men again, which now you are not.

  Rol. These are your bucklers boy.

  Otto. My hinderances;

  And were I not confirm’d, my justice in

  The taking of thy life, could not weigh down

  The wrong, in shedding the least drop of bloud

  Of these whose goodness only now protetts thee,

  Thou should’st feel I in act would only prove my self

  What thou in words do’st labour to appear.

  Rol. Hear this, and talk again! Fie break through all,

  But I will reach thy heart.

  Otto. ’Tis better guarded.

  Enter Sophia.

  Soph. Make way, or I will force it, who are those?

  My Sons? my shames; turn all your swords on me

  And make this wretched body but one wound,

  So this unnatural quarrel find a grave

  In the unhappy womb that brought you forth:

  Dare you remember that you had a Mother,

  Or look on these gray hairs, made so with tears,

  For both your goods, and not with age; and yet

  Stand doubtful to obey her? from me you had

  Life, Nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons;

  And dare you raise them against her, to whom

  You owe the means of being what you are?

  Otto. All peace is meant to you.

  Soph. Why is this War then?

  As if your arms could be advanc’d, and I

  Not set upon the rack? your bloud is mine,

  Your dangers mine, your goodness I should share in

  I must be branded with those impious marks

  You stamp on your own foreheads and on mine,

  If you go on thus: for my good name therefore,

  Though all respects of honour in your selves

  Be in your fury choakt, throw down your swords;

  Your duty should be swifter than my tongue;

  And joyn your hands while they be innocent;

  You have heat of bloud, and youth apt to Ambition,

  To plead an easie pardon for what’s past:

  But all the ills beyond this hour committed,

  From Gods or men must hope for no excuse.

  Gis. Can you hear this unmov’d?

  No Syllable of this so pious charm, but should have power

  To frustrate all the juggling deceits,

  With which the Devil blinds you.

  Otto. I begin to melt, I know not how.

  Rol. Mother, I’le leave you;

  And, Sir, be thankful for the time you live,

  Till we meet next (which shall be soon and sudden)

  To her perswasion for you.

  Soph. O yet, stay,

  And rather than part thus, vouchsafe me hearing,

  As enemies; how is my soul divided?

  My love to both is equal, as my wishes;

  But are return’d by neither; my griev’d heart,

  Hold yet a little longer, and then break.

  I kneel to both, and will speak so, but this

  Takes from me th’ authority of a mothers power;

  And therefore, like my self, Otto, to thee,

  (And yet observe, son, how thy mothers tears

  Outstrip her forward words, to make way for ’em)

  Thou art the younger, Ottoy yet be now

  The first example of obedience to me,

  And grow the elder in my love.

  Otto. The means to be so happy?

  Soph. This; yield up thy sword,

  And let thy piety give thy mother strength

  To take that from thee, which no enemies force

  Could e’re despoil thee of: why do’st thou tremble,

  And with a fearful eye fixt on thy Brother,

  Observ’st his ready sword, as bent against thee?

  I am thy armour, and will be pierc’d through,

  Ten thousand times, before I will give way

  To any peril may arrive at thee;

  And therefore fear not.

  Otto. ’Tis not for my self,

  But for you, mother; you are now ingag’d

  In more tha[n] lies in your unquestion’d vertue;

  For, since you have disarm’d me of defence,

  Should I fall now, though by his hand, the world

  May say it was your practice.

  Soph. All worlds perish,

  Before my piety turn treasons parent,

  Take it again, and stand upon your guard,

  And while your Brother is, continue arm’d;

  And yet, this fear is needless, for I know,

  My Rollo, though he dares as much as man,

  So tender of his yet untainted valour,

  So noble, that he dares do nothing basely.

  You doubt him; he fears you; I doubt and fear

  Both; for others safety, and not mine own.

  Know yet, my sons, when of necessity

  You must deceive, or be deceiv’d; ’tis better

  To suffer Treason, than to act the Traytor;

  And in a War like this, in which the glory

  Is his that’s overcome; consider then

  What ’tis for which you strive: is it the Dukedom?

  Or the command of these so ready subjects?

  Desire of wealth? or whatsoever else

  Fires your ambition? This still desp’rate madness,

  To kill the people which you would be Lords of;

  With fire, and sword to lay that Country waste

  Whose rule you seek for: to con
sume the treasures,

  Which are the sinews of your Government,

  In cherishing the factions that destroy it:

  Far, far be this from you: make it not question’d

  Whether you have interest in that Dukedom,

  Whose ruine both contend for.

  Otto. I desire but to enjoy my own, which I will keep.

  Rol. And rather than posterity shall have cause

  To say I ruin’d all, divide the Dukedom,

  I will accept the moiety.

  Ott. I embrace it.

  Soph. Divide me first, or tear me limb by limb,

  And let them find as many several Graves

  As there are villages in Normandy:

  And ’tis less sin, than thus to weaken it.

  To hear it mention’d doth already make me

  Envy my dead Lord, and almost Blaspheme

  Those powers that heard my prayer for fruitfulness,

  And did not with my first birth close my womb:

  To me alone my second blessing proves

  My first of misery, for if that Heaven

  Which gave me RoIlo, there had staid his bounty,

  And Otto, my dear Otto, ne’re had been,

  Or being, had not been so worth my love,

  The stream of my affection had run constant

  In one fair current, all my hopes had been

  Laid up in one; and fruitful Normandy

  In this division had not lost her glories:

  For as ’tis now, ’tis a fair Diamond,

  Which being preserv’d intire, exceeds all value,

  But cut in pieces (though these pieces are

  Set in fine gold by the best work-mans cunning)

  Parts with all estimation: So this Dukedom,

  As ’tis yet whole, the neighbouring Kings may covet,

  But cannot compass; which divided, will

  Become the spoil of every barbarous foe

  That will invade it.

  Gis. How this works in both!

  Bal. Prince Rollo’s eyes have lost their fire.

  Gis. And anger, that but now wholly possessed

  Good Otto, hath given place to pity. ‘(begun.

  Aub. End not thus Madam, but perfect what’s so well

  Soph. I see in both, fair signs of reconcilement,

  Make them sure proofs they are so: the Fates offer

  To your free choice, either to live Examples

  Of Piety, or wickedness: if the later

  Blinds so your understanding, that you cannot

  Pierce through her painted out-side, and discover

  That she is all deformity within,

  Boldly transcend all precedents of mischief,

  And let the last, and the worst end of tyrannies,

  The murther of a Mother, but begin

  The stain of bloud you after are to heighten:

  But if that vertue, and her sure rewards,

  Can win you to accept her for your guide,

  To lead you up to Heaven, and there fix you