Buss. What would you wish me?

Mons. Leave the troubled streames, And live where thrivers doe, at the well head.

Buss. At the well head? Alas! what should I doe With that enchanted glasse? See devils there? 85 Or (like a strumpet) learne to set my looks In an eternall brake, or practise jugling, To keep my face still fast, my heart still loose; Or beare (like dames schoolmistresses their riddles) Two tongues, and be good only for a shift; 90 Flatter great lords, to put them still in minde Why they were made lords; or please humorous ladies With a good carriage, tell them idle tales, To make their physick work; spend a man's life In sights and visitations, that will make 95 His eyes as hollow as his mistresse heart: To doe none good, but those that have no need; To gaine being forward, though you break for haste All the commandements ere you break your fast; But beleeve backwards, make your period 100 And creeds last article, "I beleeve in God": And (hearing villanies preacht) t'unfold their art, Learne to commit them? Tis a great mans part. Shall I learne this there?

Mons. No, thou needst not learne; Thou hast the theorie; now goe there and practise. 105

Buss. I, in a thrid-bare suit; when men come there, They must have high naps, and goe from thence bare: A man may drowne the parts of ten rich men In one poore suit; brave barks, and outward glosse Attract Court loves, be in parts ne're so grosse. 110

Mons. Thou shalt have glosse enough, and all things fit T'enchase in all shew thy long smothered spirit: Be rul'd by me then. The old Scythians Painted blinde Fortunes powerfull hands with wings, To shew her gifts come swift and suddenly, 115 Which if her favorite be not swift to take, He loses them for ever. Then be wise;

Exit Mon[sieur] with Pages. Manet Buss[y].

Stay but a while here, and I'le send to thee.

Buss. What will he send? some crowns? It is to sow them Upon my spirit, and make them spring a crowne 120 Worth millions of the seed crownes he will send. Like to disparking noble husbandmen, Hee'll put his plow into me, plow me up; But his unsweating thrift is policie, And learning-hating policie is ignorant 125 To fit his seed-land soyl; a smooth plain ground Will never nourish any politick seed. I am for honest actions, not for great: If I may bring up a new fashion, And rise in Court for vertue, speed his plow! 130 The King hath knowne me long as well as hee, Yet could my fortune never fit the length Of both their understandings till this houre. There is a deepe nicke in Times restlesse wheele For each mans good, when which nicke comes, it strikes; 135 As rhetorick yet workes not perswasion, But only is a meane to make it worke: So no man riseth by his reall merit, But when it cries "clincke" in his raisers spirit. Many will say, that cannot rise at all, 140 Mans first houres rise is first step to his fall. I'le venture that; men that fall low must die, As well as men cast headlong from the skie.

Ent[er] Maffe.

[Maffe.] Humor of Princes! Is this wretch indu'd With any merit worth a thousand crownes? 145 Will my lord have me be so ill a steward Of his revenue, to dispose a summe So great, with so small cause as shewes in him? I must examine this. Is your name D'Ambois?

Buss. Sir?

Maff. Is your name D'Ambois?

Buss. Who have we here? 150 Serve you the Monsieur?

Maff. How?

Buss. Serve you the Monsieur?

Maff. Sir, y'are very hot. I doe serve the Monsieur; But in such place as gives me the command Of all his other servants: and because His Graces pleasure is to give your good 155 His passe through my command, me thinks you might Use me with more respect.

Buss. Crie you mercy! Now you have opened my dull eies, I see you, And would be glad to see the good you speake of: What might I call your name?

Maff. Monsieur Maffe. 160

Buss. Monsieur Maffe? Then, good Monsieur Maffe, Pray let me know you better.

Maff. Pray doe so, That you may use me better. For your selfe, By your no better outside, I would judge you To be some poet. Have you given my lord 165 Some pamphlet?

Buss. Pamphlet!

Maff. Pamphlet, sir, I say.

Buss. Did your great masters goodnesse leave the good, That is to passe your charge to my poore use, To your discretion?

Maff. Though he did not, sir, I hope 'tis no rude office to aske reason 170 How that his Grace gives me in charge, goes from me?

Buss. That's very perfect, sir.

Maff. Why, very good, sir; I pray, then, give me leave. If for no pamphlet, May I not know what other merit in you Makes his compunction willing to relieve you? 175

Buss. No merit in the world, sir.

Maff. That is strange. Y'are a poore souldier, are you?

Buss. That I am, sir.

Maff. And have commanded?

Buss. I, and gone without, sir.

Maff. I see the man: a hundred crownes will make him Swagger, and drinke healths to his Graces bountie, 180 And sweare he could not be more bountifull; So there's nine hundred crounes sav'd. Here, tall souldier, His Grace hath sent you a whole hundred crownes.

Buss. A hundred, sir! Nay, doe his Highnesse right; I know his hand is larger, and perhaps 185 I may deserve more than my outside shewes. I am a poet as I am a souldier, And I can poetise; and (being well encourag'd) May sing his fame for giving; yours for delivering (Like a most faithfull steward) what he gives. 190

Maff. What shall your subject be?

Buss. I care not much If to his bounteous Grace I sing the praise Of faire great noses, and to you of long ones. What qualities have you, sir, (beside your chaine And velvet jacket)? Can your Worship dance? 195

Maff. A pleasant fellow, faith; it seemes my lord Will have him for his jester; and, berlady, Such men are now no fooles; 'tis a knights place. If I (to save his Grace some crounes) should urge him T'abate his bountie, I should not be heard; 200 I would to heaven I were an errant asse, For then I should be sure to have the eares Of these great men, where now their jesters have them. Tis good to please him, yet Ile take no notice Of his preferment, but in policie 205 Will still be grave and serious, lest he thinke I feare his woodden dagger. Here, Sir Ambo!

Buss. How, Ambo, Sir?

Maff. I, is not your name Ambo?

Buss. You call'd me lately D'Amboys; has your Worship So short a head?

Maff. I cry thee mercy, D'Amboys. 210 A thousand crownes I bring you from my lord; If you be thriftie, and play the good husband, you may make This a good standing living; 'tis a bountie, His Highnesse might perhaps have bestow'd better.

Buss. Goe, y'are a rascall; hence, away, you rogue! [Strikes him.] 215

Maff. What meane you, sir?

Buss. Hence! prate no more! Or, by thy villans bloud, thou prat'st thy last! A barbarous groome grudge at his masters bountie! But since I know he would as much abhorre His hinde should argue what he gives his friend, 220 Take that, Sir, for your aptnesse to dispute. Exit.

Maff. These crownes are set in bloud; bloud be their fruit! Exit.

LINENOTES:

5 continuall. A, incessant.

8 forming. A, forging.

10 men meerely great. A, our tympanouse statists.

20 wealth. A, powers.

25 faine. A, glad.

31 earth. A, world.

40 meane. A, poore.

43 possible. A, likely.

44 good to. A, fit I.

57 Callest. A, Think'st.

80 doe. A, doth.

82 me? A, me doe.

92 humorous. A, portly.

102-3 And . . . part. Repunctuated by ed. Qq have:—

And (hearing villanies preacht) t'unfold their Art Learne to commit them, Tis a great mans Part.

110 loves. A, eies.

113 old. A, rude.

117 be wise. A, be rul'd.

122-125 Like . . . ignorant. A omits.

126 To fit his seed-land soyl. A, But hee's no husband heere.

130 for. A, with.

153 After this line B inserts: Table, Chesbord & Tapers behind the Arras. This relates not to the present Scene, but to Scene 2, where the King and Guise play chess (cf. I, 2, 184). Either it has been inserted, by a printer's error, prematurely; or, more probably, it may be an instruction to the "prompter" to see that the properties needed in the next Scene are ready, which has crept from an acting version of the play into the Quartos.

156 His passe. A, A passe.

157 respect. A, good fashion.

167 your great masters goodnesse. A, his wise excellencie.

170 rude. A, bad.

180 Graces. A, highnes.

192 bounteous Grace. A, excellence.

193 and to you of long ones. A has:—

And to your deserts The reverend vertues of a faithfull steward.

196 pleasant. A, merrie.

197 berlady. A, beleeve it.

199 his Grace. A, my Lord.

208-210. How . . . D'Amboys. A omits.

212 If you be thriftie, and. A, Serve God.

[SCENA SECUNDA.

A room in the Court.]

Henry, Guise, Montsurry, Elenor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Pyra, Annable.

Henry. Duchesse of Guise, your Grace is much enricht In the attendance of that English virgin, That will initiate her prime of youth, (Dispos'd to Court conditions) under the hand Of your prefer'd instructions and command, 5 Rather than any in the English Court, Whose ladies are not matcht in Christendome For gracefull and confirm'd behaviours, More than the Court, where they are bred, is equall'd.

Guise. I like not their Court-fashion; it is too crestfalne 10 In all observance, making demi-gods Of their great nobles; and of their old Queene An ever-yong and most immortall goddesse.

Montsurry. No question shee's the rarest Queene in Europe.

Guis. But what's that to her immortality? 15

Henr. Assure you, cosen Guise, so great a courtier, So full of majestic and roiall parts, No Queene in Christendome may vaunt her selfe. Her Court approves it: that's a Court indeed, Not mixt with clowneries us'd in common houses; 20 But, as Courts should be th'abstracts of their Kingdomes, In all the beautie, state, and worth they hold, So is hers, amplie, and by her inform'd. The world is not contracted in a man, With more proportion and expression, 25 Than in her Court, her kingdome. Our French Court Is a meere mirror of confusion to it: The king and subject, lord and every slave, Dance a continuall haie; our roomes of state Kept like our stables; no place more observ'd 30 Than a rude market-place: and though our custome Keepe this assur'd confusion from our eyes, 'Tis nere the lesse essentially unsightly, Which they would soone see, would they change their forme To this of ours, and then compare them both; 35 Which we must not affect, because in kingdomes, Where the Kings change doth breed the subjects terror, Pure innovation is more grosse than error.

Mont. No question we shall see them imitate (Though a farre off) the fashions of our Courts, 40 As they have ever ap't us in attire; Never were men so weary of their skins, And apt to leape out of themselves as they; Who, when they travell to bring forth rare men, Come home delivered of a fine French suit: 45 Their braines lie with their tailors, and get babies For their most compleat issue; hee's sole heire To all the morall vertues that first greetes The light with a new fashion, which becomes them Like apes, disfigur'd with the attires of men. 50

Henr. No question they much wrong their reall worth In affectation of outlandish scumme; But they have faults, and we more: they foolish-proud To jet in others plumes so haughtely; We proud that they are proud of foolerie, 55 Holding our worthes more compleat for their vaunts.

Enter Monsieur, D'Ambois.

Monsieur. Come, mine owne sweet heart, I will enter thee. Sir, I have brought a gentleman to court; And pray, you would vouchsafe to doe him grace.

Henr. D'Ambois, I thinke.

Bussy. That's still my name, my lord, 60 Though I be something altered in attire.

Henr. We like your alteration, and must tell you, We have expected th'offer of your service; For we (in feare to make mild vertue proud) Use not to seeke her out in any man. 65

Buss. Nor doth she use to seeke out any man: He that will winne, must wooe her: she's not shameless.

Mons. I urg'd her modestie in him, my lord, And gave her those rites that he sayes shee merits.

Henr. If you have woo'd and won, then, brother, weare him. 70

Mons. Th'art mine, sweet heart! See, here's the Guises Duches; The Countesse of Mountsurreaue, Beaupre. Come, I'le enseame thee. Ladies, y'are too many To be in counsell: I have here a friend That I would gladly enter in your graces. 75

Buss. 'Save you, ladyes!

Duchess. If you enter him in our graces, my lord, me thinkes, by his blunt behaviour he should come out of himselfe.

Tamyra. Has he never beene courtier, my 80 lord?

Mons. Never, my lady.

Beaupre. And why did the toy take him inth' head now?

Buss. Tis leape yeare, lady, and therefore very 85 good to enter a courtier.

Henr. Marke, Duchesse of Guise, there is one is not bashfull.

Duch. No my lord, he is much guilty of the bold extremity. 90

Tam. The man's a courtier at first sight.

Buss. I can sing pricksong, lady, at first sight; and why not be a courtier as suddenly?

Beaup. Here's a courtier rotten before he be ripe. 95

Buss. Thinke me not impudent, lady; I am yet no courtier; I desire to be one and would gladly take entrance, madam, under your princely colours.

Enter Barrisor, L'Anou, Pyrhot.

Duch. Soft sir, you must rise by degrees, first 100 being the servant of some common Lady or Knights wife, then a little higher to a Lords wife; next a little higher to a Countesse; yet a little higher to a Duchesse, and then turne the ladder. 105

Buss. Doe you alow a man then foure mistresses, when the greatest mistresse is alowed but three servants?

Duch. Where find you that statute sir.

Buss. Why be judged by the groome-porters. 110

Duch. The groome-porters!

Buss. I, madam, must not they judge of all gamings i'th' Court?

Duch. You talke like a gamester.

Gui. Sir, know you me? 115

Buss. My lord!

Gui. I know not you; whom doe you serve?

Buss. Serve, my lord!

Gui. Go to companion; your courtship's too saucie. 120

Buss. Saucie! Companion! tis the Guise, but yet those termes might have beene spar'd of the guiserd. Companion! He's jealous, by this light. Are you blind of that side, Duke? Ile to her againe for that. Forth, princely mistresse, 125 for the honour of courtship. Another riddle.

Gui. Cease your courtshippe, or, by heaven, Ile cut your throat.

Buss. Cut my throat? cut a whetstone, young Accius Noevius! Doe as much with your 130 tongue as he did with a rasor. Cut my throat!

Barrisor. What new-come gallant have wee heere, that dares mate the Guise thus?

L'Anou. Sfoot, tis D'Ambois! the Duke mistakes him (on my life) for some Knight of the 135 new edition.

Buss. Cut my throat! I would the King fear'd thy cutting of his throat no more than I feare thy cutting of mine.

Gui. Ile doe't, by this hand. 140

Buss. That hand dares not doe't; y'ave cut too many throats already, Guise, and robb'd the realme of many thousand soules, more precious than thine owne. Come, madam, talk on. Sfoot, can you not talk? Talk on, I say. Another 145 riddle.

Pyrhot. Here's some strange distemper.

Bar. Here's a sudden transmigration with D'Ambois, out of the Knights ward into the Duches bed. 150

L'An. See what a metamorphosis a brave suit can work.

Pyr. Slight! step to the Guise, and discover him.

Bar. By no meanes; let the new suit work; 155 wee'll see the issue.

Gui. Leave your courting.

Buss. I will not. I say, mistresse, and I will stand unto it, that if a woman may have three servants, a man may have threescore mistresses. 160

Gui. Sirrha, Ile have you whipt out of the Court for this insolence.

Buss. Whipt! Such another syllable out a th'presence, if thou dar'st, for thy Dukedome.

Gui. Remember, poultron! 165

Mons. Pray thee forbeare!

Buss. Passion of death! Were not the King here, he should strow the chamber like a rush.

Mons. But leave courting his wife then.

Buss. I wil not: Ile court her in despight of 170 him. Not court her! Come madam, talk on; feare me nothing. [To Guise.] Well mai'st thou drive thy master from the Court, but never D'Ambois.

Mons. His great heart will not down, tis like the sea, 175 That partly by his owne internall heat, Partly the starrs daily and nightly motion, Their heat and light, and partly of the place The divers frames, but chiefly by the moone, Bristled with surges, never will be wonne, 180 (No, not when th'hearts of all those powers are burst) To make retreat into his setled home, Till he be crown'd with his owne quiet fome.

Henr. You have the mate. Another?

Gui. No more. Flourish short.

Exit Guise; after him the King, Mons[ieur] whispering.

Bar. Why here's the lion skar'd with the 185 throat of a dunghill cock, a fellow that has newly shak'd off his shackles; now does he crow for that victory.

L'An. Tis one of the best jiggs that ever was acted. 190

Pyr. Whom does the Guise suppose him to be, troe?

L'An. Out of doubt, some new denizond Lord, and thinks that suit newly drawne out a th' mercers books. 195

Bar. I have heard of a fellow, that by a fixt imagination looking upon a bulbaiting, had a visible paire of hornes grew out of his forhead: and I beleeve this gallant overjoyed with the conceit of Monsieurs cast suit, imagines himselfe 200 to be the Monsieur.

L'An. And why not? as well as the asse stalking in the lions case, bare himselfe like a lion, braying all the huger beasts out of the forrest? 205

Pyr. Peace! he looks this way.

Bar. Marrie, let him look, sir; what will you say now if the Guise be gone to fetch a blanquet for him?

L'An. Faith, I beleeve it, for his honour sake. 210

Pyr. But, if D'Ambois carrie it cleane? Exeunt Ladies.

Bar. True, when he curvets in the blanquet.

Pyr. I, marrie, sir.

L'An. Sfoot, see how he stares on's.

Bar. Lord blesse us, let's away. 215

Buss. Now, sir, take your full view: who does the object please ye?

Bar. If you aske my opinion, sir, I think your suit sits as well as if't had beene made for you. 220

Buss. So, sir, and was that the subject of your ridiculous joylity?

L'An. What's that to you, sir?

Buss. Sir, I have observ'd all your fleerings; and resolve your selves yee shall give a strickt 225 account for't.

Enter Brisac, Melynell.

Bar. O miraculous jealousie! Doe you think your selfe such a singular subject for laughter that none can fall into the matter of our merriment but you? 230

L'An. This jealousie of yours, sir, confesses some close defect in your selfe that wee never dream'd of.

Pyr. Wee held discourse of a perfum'd asse, that being disguis'd in a lions case imagin'd 235 himself a lion: I hope that toucht not you.

Buss. So, sir? Your descants doe marvellous well fit this ground; we shall meet where your buffonly laughters will cost ye the best blood in your bodies. 240

Bar. For lifes sake, let's be gone; hee'll kill's outright else.

Buss. Goe, at your pleasures; Ile be your ghost to haunt you; and yee sleepe an't, hang me. 245

L'An. Goe, goe, sir; court your mistresse.

Pyr. And be advis'd; we shall have odds against you.

Buss. Tush, valour stands not in number: Ile maintaine it that one man may beat three boyes. 250

Brisac. Nay, you shall have no ods of him in number, sir; hee's a gentleman as good as the proudest of you, and yee shall not wrong him.

Bar. Not, sir?

Melynell. Not, sir; though he be not so rich, 255 hee's a better man than the best of you; and I will not endure it.

L'An. Not you, sir?

Bris. No, sir, nor I.

Buss. I should thank you for this kindnesse, 260 if I thought these perfum'd musk-cats (being out of this priviledge) durst but once mew at us.

Bar. Does your confident spirit doubt that, sir? Follow us and try.

L'An. Come, sir, wee'll lead you a dance. 265 Exeunt.

Finis Actus Primi.

LINENOTES:

2 that. A, this.

4 the. A omits.

10 Court-fashion. A, Court forme.

11 demi-gods. A, semi-gods.

14-15 No question . . . immortality. A omits.

18 vaunt. A, boast.

20 clowneries. A, rudenesse.

32 confusion. A, deformitie.

47 sole heire. A, first borne.

53 more. A omits.

54 To jet . . . haughtely. A, To be the pictures of our vanitie.

56 Holding . . . vaunts. A omits.

58 a. A, this. to court. A, t'attend you.

60-61 That's . . . attire. Printed as prose in Qq.

62, 63 We. A, I.

67 So in A: B has only: They that will winne, must wooe her.

71 sweet heart. A, my love.

68-75. I urg'd . . . graces. Printed as prose in Qq.

76 'Save you, ladyes! A omits.

87-90 Marke . . . extremity. A omits.

Enter . . . Pyrhot. After l. 146 in A.

100-114 Soft . . . gamester. A omits.

124 Duke. A, Sir.

125 princely mistresse. A, madam.

126 Another riddle. A omits.

129 young. A, good.

132-139, and an additional line: "Gui. So, sir, so," inserted after l. 146 in A.

141-145 Set as verse in B, the lines ending in many, of, owne, talk.

145-146 Another riddle. A, More courtship, as you love it.

178 Their heat. A, Ardor.

204 braying. A, roaring.

227 miraculous jealousie. A, strange credulitie.

229 the matter of. A omits.

227-231 O . . . you. Printed as three lines of verse, ending in selfe, into, you.

235 in. A, with.

241 else. A omits.



ACTUS SECUNDị SCENA PRIMA.

[A Room in the Court.]

Henry, Guise, Montsurry, and Attendants.

Henry. This desperate quarrell sprung out of their envies To D'Ambois sudden bravery, and great spirit.

Guise. Neither is worth their envie.

Henr. Lesse than either Will make the gall of envie overflow; She feeds on outcast entrailes like a kite: 5 In which foule heape, if any ill lies hid, She sticks her beak into it, shakes it up, And hurl's it all abroad, that all may view it. Corruption is her nutriment; but touch her With any precious oyntment, and you kill her. 10 Where she finds any filth in men, she feasts, And with her black throat bruits it through the world Being sound and healthfull; but if she but taste The slenderest pittance of commended vertue, She surfets of it, and is like a flie 15 That passes all the bodies soundest parts, And dwels upon the sores; or if her squint eie Have power to find none there, she forges some: She makes that crooked ever which is strait; Calls valour giddinesse, justice tyrannie: 20 A wise man may shun her, she not her selfe; Whither soever she flies from her harmes, She beares her foe still claspt in her own armes: And therefore, cousen Guise, let us avoid her.

Enter Nuncius.

Nuncius. What Atlas or Olympus lifts his head 25 So farre past covert, that with aire enough My words may be inform'd, and from their height I may be seene and heard through all the world? A tale so worthy, and so fraught with wonder, Sticks in my jawes, and labours with event. 30

Henr. Com'st thou from D'Ambois?

Nun. From him, and the rest, His friends and enemies; whose sterne fight I saw, And heard their words before, and in the fray.

Henr. Relate at large what thou hast seene and heard.

Nun. I saw fierce D'Ambois and his two brave friends 35 Enter the field, and at their heeles their foes; Which were the famous souldiers, Barrisor, L'Anou, and Pyrrhot, great in deeds of armes. All which arriv'd at the evenest peece of earth The field afforded, the three challengers 40 Turn'd head, drew all their rapiers, and stood ranck't; When face to face the three defendants met them, Alike prepar'd, and resolute alike. Like bonfires of contributorie wood Every mans look shew'd, fed with eithers spirit; 45 As one had beene a mirror to another, Like formes of life and death each took from other; And so were life and death mixt at their heights, That you could see no feare of death, for life, Nor love of life, for death: but in their browes 50 Pyrrho's opinion in great letters shone: That life and death in all respects are one.

Henr. Past there no sort of words at their encounter?

Nun. As Hector, twixt the hosts of Greece and Troy, (When Paris and the Spartane King should end 55 The nine yeares warre) held up his brasen launce For signall that both hosts should cease from armes, And heare him speak; so Barrisor (advis'd) Advanc'd his naked rapier twixt both sides, Ript up the quarrell, and compar'd six lives 60 Then laid in ballance with six idle words; Offer'd remission and contrition too, Or else that he and D'Ambois might conclude The others dangers. D'Ambois lik'd the last; But Barrisors friends (being equally engag'd 65 In the maine quarrell) never would expose His life alone to that they all deserv'd. And for the other offer of remission D'Ambois (that like a lawrell put in fire Sparkl'd and spit) did much much more than scorne 70 That his wrong should incense him so like chaffe, To goe so soone out, and like lighted paper Approve his spirit at once both fire and ashes. So drew they lots, and in them Fates appointed, That Barrisor should fight with firie D'Ambois; 75 Pyrhot with Melynell, with Brisac L'Anou; And then, like flame and powder, they commixt So spritely, that I wisht they had beene spirits, That the ne're shutting wounds they needs must open Might, as they open'd, shut, and never kill. 80 But D'Ambois sword (that lightned as it flew) Shot like a pointed comet at the face Of manly Barrisor, and there it stucke: Thrice pluckt he at it, and thrice drew on thrusts From him that of himselfe was free as fire, 85 Who thrust still as he pluckt; yet (past beliefe!) He with his subtile eye, hand, body, scap't. At last, the deadly bitten point tugg'd off, On fell his yet undaunted foe so fiercely, That (only made more horrid with his wound) 90 Great D'Ambois shrunke, and gave a little ground; But soone return'd, redoubled in his danger, And at the heart of Barrisor seal'd his anger. Then, as in Arden I have seene an oke Long shooke with tempests, and his loftie toppe 95 Bent to his root, which being at length made loose (Even groaning with his weight), he gan to nodde This way and that, as loth his curled browes (Which he had oft wrapt in the skie with stormes) Should stoope: and yet, his radicall fivers burst, 100 Storme-like he fell, and hid the feare-cold earth— So fell stout Barrisor, that had stood the shocks Of ten set battels in your Highnesse warre, 'Gainst the sole souldier of the world, Navarre.

Gui. O pitious and horrid murther!

[Montsurry.] Such a life 105 Me thinks had mettall in it to survive An age of men.

Henr. Such often soonest end.— Thy felt report cals on; we long to know On what events the other have arriv'd.

Nun. Sorrow and fury, like two opposite fumes 110 Met in the upper region of a cloud, At the report made by this worthies fall, Brake from the earth, and with them rose Revenge, Entring with fresh powers his two noble friends; And under that ods fell surcharg'd Brisac, 115 The friend of D'Ambois, before fierce L'Anou; Which D'Ambois seeing, as I once did see, In my young travels through Armenia, An angrie unicorne in his full cariere Charge with too swift a foot a jeweller, 120 That watcht him for the treasure of his brow, And, ere he could get shelter of a tree, Naile him with his rich antler to the earth: So D'Ambois ranne upon reveng'd L'Anou, Who eying th'eager point borne in his face, 125 And giving backe, fell back; and, in his fall, His foes uncurbed sword stopt in his heart: By which time all the life strings of th'tw'other Were cut, and both fell, as their spirit flew, Upwards, and still hunt Honour at the view. 130 And now (of all the six) sole D'Ambois stood Untoucht, save only with the others bloud.

Henr. All slaine outright?

Nun. All slaine outright but he, Who kneeling in the warme life of his friends, (All freckled with the bloud his rapier raind) 135 He kist their pale lips, and bade both farewell: And see the bravest man the French earth beares! [Exit Nuntius.]

Enter Monsieur, D'Amb[ois] bare.

Bussy. Now is the time; y'are princely vow'd my friend; Perform it princely, and obtaine my pardon.

Monsieur. Else Heaven forgive not me! Come on, brave friend! 140 If ever Nature held her selfe her owne, When the great triall of a King and subject Met in one bloud, both from one belly springing, Now prove her vertue and her greatnesse one, Or make the t'one the greater with the t'other, 145 (As true Kings should) and for your brothers love (Which is a speciall species of true vertue) Doe that you could not doe, not being a King.

Henr. Brother, I know your suit; these wilfull murthers Are ever past our pardon.

Mons. Manly slaughter 150 Should never beare th'account of wilfull murther, It being a spice of justice, where with life Offending past law equall life is laid In equall ballance, to scourge that offence By law of reputation, which to men 155 Exceeds all positive law; and what that leaves To true mens valours (not prefixing rights Of satisfaction suited to their wrongs) A free mans eminence may supply and take.

Henr. This would make every man that thinks him wrong'd, 160 Or is offended, or in wrong or right, Lay on this violence; and all vaunt themselves Law-menders and supplyers, though meere butchers, Should this fact, though of justice, be forgiven.

Mons. O no, my Lord! it would make cowards feare 165 To touch the reputations of true men. When only they are left to impe the law, Justice will soone distinguish murtherous minds From just revengers. Had my friend beene slaine, His enemy surviving, he should die, 170 Since he had added to a murther'd fame (Which was in his intent) a murthered man; And this had worthily beene wilfull murther; But my friend only sav'd his fames deare life, Which is above life, taking th'under value 175 Which in the wrong it did was forfeit to him; And in this fact only preserves a man In his uprightnesse, worthy to survive Millions of such as murther men alive.

Henr. Well, brother, rise, and raise your friend withall 180 From death to life: and, D'Ambois, let your life (Refin'd by passing through this merited death) Be purg'd from more such foule pollution; Nor on your scape, nor valour, more presuming To be again so violent.

Buss. My Lord, 185 I lothe as much a deed of unjust death, As law it selfe doth; and to tyrannise, Because I have a little spirit to dare, And power to doe, as to be tyranniz'd. This is a grace that (on my knees redoubled) 190 I crave, to double this my short lifes gift, And shall your royal bountie centuple, That I may so make good what Law and Nature Have given me for my good: since I am free, (Offending no just law) let no law make, 195 By any wrong it does, my life her slave: When I am wrong'd, and that Law failes to right me, Let me be King my selfe (as man was made) And doe a justice that exceeds the Law: If my wrong passe the power of single valour 200 To right and expiate, then be you my King, And doe a right, exceeding Law and Nature. Who to himselfe is law, no law doth need, Offends no law, and is a King indeed.

Henr. Enjoy what thou intreat'st, we give but ours. 205

Buss. What you have given, my lord, is ever yours. Exit Rex cum [Montsurry.]

Gui. Mort dieu, who would have pardon'd such a murther? Exit.

Mons. Now vanish horrors into Court attractions For which let this balme make thee fresh and faire! And now forth with thy service to the Duchesse, 210 As my long love will to Monsurries Countesse. Exit.

Buss. To whom my love hath long been vow'd in heart, Although in hand, for shew, I held the Duchesse. And now through bloud and vengeance, deeds of height, And hard to be atchiev'd, tis fit I make 215 Attempt of her perfection. I need feare No check in his rivality, since her vertues Are so renown'd, and hee of all dames hated. Exit.

LINENOTES:

Montsurry, and Attendants. A, Beaumond, Nuncius.

11 Where. A, When.

27 their. A, his.

70 Sparkl'd. So in A; B, Spakl'd.

105 [Montsurry.] Emend. ed.: Beau. Qq; see note 30, p. 149.

120 a foot. A, an eie.

128 th'. A, the.

129 spirit. A, spirits.

133 All slaine outright? So in A; B, All slaine outright but hee?

135 freckled. A, feebled.

166 true. A, full.

185 violent. So in A; B, daring.

204 law. A, King.

206 cum [Montsurry.] Emend. ed.: Qq, cum Beau. See note 30, p. 149.

207 Mort dieu. A; B omits.

210-218 And now . . . hated. A omits, inserting instead:

Buss. How shall I quite your love?

Mons. Be true to the end. I have obtained a kingdome with my friend.

[ACTUS SECUNDI SCENA SECUNDA.

A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Montsur[ry], Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Pyrha.

Montsurry. He will have pardon, sure.

Tamyra. Twere pittie else: For though his great spirit something overflow, All faults are still borne, that from greatnesse grow: But such a sudden courtier saw I never.

Beaupre. He was too sudden, which indeed was rudenesse. 5

Tam. True, for it argued his no due conceit Both of the place, and greatnesse of the persons, Nor of our sex: all which (we all being strangers To his encounter) should have made more maners Deserve more welcome.

Mont. All this fault is found 10 Because he lov'd the Duchesse and left you.

Tam. Ahlas, love give her joy! I am so farre From envie of her honour, that I sweare, Had he encounterd me with such proud sleight, I would have put that project face of his 15 To a more test than did her Dutchesship.

Beau. Why (by your leave, my lord) Ile speake it heere, (Although she be my ante) she scarce was modest, When she perceived the Duke, her husband, take Those late exceptions to her servants courtship, 20 To entertaine him.

Tam. I, and stand him still, Letting her husband give her servant place: Though he did manly, she should be a woman.

Enter Guise.

[Guise.] D'Ambois is pardond! wher's a King? where law? See how it runnes, much like a turbulent sea; 25 Heere high and glorious, as it did contend To wash the heavens, and make the stars more pure; And heere so low, it leaves the mud of hell To every common view. Come, Count Montsurry, We must consult of this.

Tam. Stay not, sweet lord. 30

Mont. Be pleased; Ile strait returne. Exit cum Guise.

Tam. Would that would please me!

Beau. Ile leave you, madam, to your passions; I see ther's change of weather in your lookes. Exit cum suis.

Tam. I cannot cloake it; but, as when a fume, Hot, drie, and grosse, within the wombe of earth 35 Or in her superficies begot, When extreame cold hath stroke it to her heart, The more it is comprest, the more it rageth, Exceeds his prisons strength that should containe it, And then it tosseth temples in the aire, 40 All barres made engines to his insolent fury: So, of a sudden, my licentious fancy Riots within me: not my name and house, Nor my religion to this houre observ'd, Can stand above it; I must utter that 45 That will in parting breake more strings in me, Than death when life parts; and that holy man That, from my cradle, counseld for my soule, I now must make an agent for my bloud.

Enter Monsieur.

Monsieur. Yet is my mistresse gratious?

Tam. Yet unanswered? 50

Mons. Pray thee regard thine owne good, if not mine, And cheere my love for that: you doe not know What you may be by me, nor what without me; I may have power t'advance and pull downe any.

Tam. That's not my study. One way I am sure 55 You shall not pull downe me; my husbands height Is crowne to all my hopes, and his retiring To any meane state, shall be my aspiring. Mine honour's in mine owne hands, spite of kings.

Mons. Honour, what's that? your second maydenhead: 60 And what is that? a word: the word is gone, The thing remaines; the rose is pluckt, the stalk Abides: an easie losse where no lack's found. Beleeve it, there's as small lack in the losse As there is paine ith' losing. Archers ever 65 Have two strings to a bow, and shall great Cupid (Archer of archers both in men and women) Be worse provided than a common archer? A husband and a friend all wise wives have.

Tam. Wise wives they are that on such strings depend, 70 With a firme husband joyning a lose friend.

Mons. Still you stand on your husband; so doe all The common sex of you, when y'are encounter'd With one ye cannot fancie: all men know You live in Court here by your owne election, 75 Frequenting all our common sports and triumphs, All the most youthfull company of men. And wherefore doe you this? To please your husband? Tis grosse and fulsome: if your husbands pleasure Be all your object, and you ayme at honour 80 In living close to him, get you from Court, You may have him at home; these common put-ofs For common women serve: "my honour! husband!" Dames maritorious ne're were meritorious: Speak plaine, and say "I doe not like you, sir, 85 Y'are an ill-favour'd fellow in my eye," And I am answer'd.

Tam. Then I pray be answer'd: For in good faith, my lord, I doe not like you In that sort you like.

Mons. Then have at you here! Take (with a politique hand) this rope of pearle; 90 And though you be not amorous, yet be wise: Take me for wisedom; he that you can love Is nere the further from you.

Tam. Now it comes So ill prepar'd, that I may take a poyson Under a medicine as good cheap as it: 95 I will not have it were it worth the world.

Mons. Horror of death! could I but please your eye, You would give me the like, ere you would loose me. "Honour and husband!"

Tam. By this light, my lord, Y'are a vile fellow; and Ile tell the King 100 Your occupation of dishonouring ladies, And of his Court. A lady cannot live As she was borne, and with that sort of pleasure That fits her state, but she must be defam'd With an infamous lords detraction: 105 Who would endure the Court if these attempts, Of open and profest lust must be borne?— Whose there? come on, dame, you are at your book When men are at your mistresse; have I taught you Any such waiting womans quality? 110

Mons. Farewell, good "husband"! Exit Mons[ieur].

Tam. Farewell, wicked lord!

Enter Mont[surry].

Mont. Was not the Monsieur here?

Tam. Yes, to good purpose; And your cause is as good to seek him too, And haunt his company.

Mont. Why, what's the matter?

Tam. Matter of death, were I some husbands wife: 115 I cannot live at quiet in my chamber For oportunities almost to rapes Offerd me by him.

Mont. Pray thee beare with him: Thou know'st he is a bachelor, and a courtier, I, and a Prince: and their prerogatives 120 Are to their lawes, as to their pardons are Their reservations, after Parliaments— One quits another; forme gives all their essence. That Prince doth high in vertues reckoning stand That will entreat a vice, and not command: 125 So farre beare with him; should another man Trust to his priviledge, he should trust to death: Take comfort then (my comfort), nay, triumph, And crown thy selfe; thou part'st with victory: My presence is so onely deare to thee 130 That other mens appeare worse than they be: For this night yet, beare with my forced absence: Thou know'st my businesse; and with how much weight My vow hath charged it.

Tam. True, my lord, and never My fruitlesse love shall let your serious honour; 135 Yet, sweet lord, do no stay; you know my soule Is so long time with out me, and I dead, As you are absent.

Mont. By this kisse, receive My soule for hostage, till I see my love.

Tam. The morne shall let me see you?

Mont. With the sunne 140 Ile visit thy more comfortable beauties.

Tam. This is my comfort, that the sunne hath left The whole worlds beauty ere my sunne leaves me.

Mont. Tis late night now, indeed: farewell, my light! Exit.

Tam. Farewell, my light and life! but not in him, 145 In mine owne dark love and light bent to another. Alas! that in the wane of our affections We should supply it with a full dissembling, In which each youngest maid is grown a mother. Frailty is fruitfull, one sinne gets another: 150 Our loves like sparkles are that brightest shine When they goe out; most vice shewes most divine. Goe, maid, to bed; lend me your book, I pray, Not, like your selfe, for forme. Ile this night trouble None of your services: make sure the dores, 155 And call your other fellowes to their rest.

Per. I will—yet I will watch to know why you watch. Exit.

Tam. Now all yee peacefull regents of the night, Silently-gliding exhalations, Languishing windes, and murmuring falls of waters, 160 Sadnesse of heart, and ominous securenesse, Enchantments, dead sleepes, all the friends of rest, That ever wrought upon the life of man, Extend your utmost strengths, and this charm'd houre Fix like the Center! make the violent wheeles 165 Of Time and Fortune stand, and great Existens, (The Makers treasurie) now not seeme to be To all but my approaching friends and me! They come, alas, they come! Feare, feare and hope Of one thing, at one instant, fight in me: 170 I love what most I loath, and cannot live, Unlesse I compasse that which holds my death; For life's meere death, loving one that loathes me, And he I love will loath me, when he sees I flie my sex, my vertue, my renowne, 175 To runne so madly on a man unknowne. The Vault opens. See, see, a vault is opening that was never Knowne to my lord and husband, nor to any But him that brings the man I love, and me. How shall I looke on him? how shall I live, 180 And not consume in blushes? I will in; And cast my selfe off, as I ne're had beene. Exit.

Ascendit Frier and D'Ambois.

Friar. Come, worthiest sonne, I am past measure glad That you (whose worth I have approv'd so long) Should be the object of her fearefull love; 185 Since both your wit and spirit can adapt Their full force to supply her utmost weaknesse. You know her worths and vertues, for report Of all that know is to a man a knowledge: You know besides that our affections storme, 190 Rais'd in our blood, no reason can reforme. Though she seeke then their satisfaction (Which she must needs, or rest unsatisfied) Your judgement will esteeme her peace thus wrought Nothing lesse deare than if your selfe had sought: 195 And (with another colour, which my art Shall teach you to lay on) your selfe must seeme The only agent, and the first orbe move In this our set and cunning world of love.

Bussy. Give me the colour (my most honour'd father) 200 And trust my cunning then to lay it on.

Fri. Tis this, good sonne:—Lord Barrisor (whom you slew) Did love her dearely, and with all fit meanes Hath urg'd his acceptation, of all which Shee keepes one letter written in his blood: 205 You must say thus, then: that you heard from mee How much her selfe was toucht in conscience With a report (which is in truth disperst) That your maine quarrell grew about her love, Lord Barrisor imagining your courtship 210 Of the great Guises Duchesse in the Presence Was by you made to his elected mistresse: And so made me your meane now to resolve her, Chosing by my direction this nights depth, For the more cleare avoiding of all note 215 Of your presumed presence. And with this (To cleare her hands of such a lovers blood) She will so kindly thank and entertaine you (Me thinks I see how), I, and ten to one, Shew you the confirmation in his blood, 220 Lest you should think report and she did faine, That you shall so have circumstantiall meanes To come to the direct, which must be used: For the direct is crooked; love comes flying; The height of love is still wonne with denying. 225

Buss. Thanks, honoured father.

Fri. Shee must never know That you know any thing of any love Sustain'd on her part: for, learne this of me, In any thing a woman does alone, If she dissemble, she thinks tis not done; 230 If not dissemble, nor a little chide, Give her her wish, she is not satisfi'd; To have a man think that she never seekes Does her more good than to have all she likes: This frailty sticks in them beyond their sex, 235 Which to reforme, reason is too perplex: Urge reason to them, it will doe no good; Humour (that is the charriot of our food In every body) must in them be fed, To carrie their affections by it bred. 240 Stand close!

Enter Tamyra with a book.

Tam. Alas, I fear my strangenesse will retire him. If he goe back, I die; I must prevent it, And cheare his onset with my sight at least, And that's the most; though every step he takes 245 Goes to my heart. Ile rather die than seeme Not to be strange to that I most esteeme.

Fri. Madam!

Tam. Ah!

Fri. You will pardon me, I hope, That so beyond your expectation, (And at a time for visitants so unfit) 250 I (with my noble friend here) visit you: You know that my accesse at any time Hath ever beene admitted; and that friend, That my care will presume to bring with me, Shall have all circumstance of worth in him 255 To merit as free welcome as myselfe.

Tam. O father, but at this suspicious houre You know how apt best men are to suspect us In any cause that makes suspicious shadow No greater than the shadow of a haire; 260 And y'are to blame. What though my lord and husband Lie forth to night, and since I cannot sleepe When he is absent I sit up to night; Though all the dores are sure, and all our servants As sure bound with their sleepes; yet there is One 265 That wakes above, whose eye no sleepe can binde: He sees through dores, and darknesse, and our thoughts; And therefore as we should avoid with feare To think amisse our selves before his search, So should we be as curious to shunne 270 All cause that other think not ill of us.

Buss. Madam, 'tis farre from that: I only heard By this my honour'd father that your conscience Made some deepe scruple with a false report That Barrisors blood should something touch your honour, 275 Since he imagin'd I was courting you When I was bold to change words with the Duchesse, And therefore made his quarrell, his long love And service, as I heare, beeing deepely vowed To your perfections; which my ready presence, 280 Presum'd on with my father at this season For the more care of your so curious honour, Can well resolve your conscience is most false.

Tam. And is it therefore that you come, good sir? Then crave I now your pardon and my fathers, 285 And sweare your presence does me so much good That all I have it bindes to your requitall. Indeed sir, 'tis most true that a report Is spread, alleadging that his love to me Was reason of your quarrell; and because 290 You shall not think I faine it for my glory That he importun'd me for his Court service, I'le shew you his own hand, set down in blood, To that vaine purpose: good sir, then come in. Father, I thank you now a thousand fold. 295 Exit Tamyra and D'Amb[ois].

Fri. May it be worth it to you, honour'd daughter! Descendit Fryar.

Finis Actus Secundi.

LINENOTES:

1-49 He will . . . bloud. These lines and the direction, Montsur . . . Pyrha, are found in A only.

50 B, which begins the scene with this line, inserts before it: Enter Monsieur, Tamyra, and Pero with a booke.

71 joyning a lose. A, weighing a dissolute.

76 common. A, solemne.

135 honour. A, profit.

146 In . . . another. A omits.

147 wane. Emend., Dilke; Qq, wave.

158 yee. A, the.

172 which. A, that.

173 For life's . . . me. A, For love is hatefull without love againe.

The Vault opens. B places this after 173; A omits.

177-181 See . . . in. Instead of these lines, A has:—

See, see the gulfe is opening that will swallow Me and my fame forever; I will in.

with a book. A omits.

266 wakes. A, sits.

274 Made some deepe scruple. A, Was something troubled.

275 honour. A, hand.

278-280 his long love . . . perfections. A omits.

280 ready. A omits.

286 good. A, comfort.



ACTUS TERTII SCENA PRIMA.

[A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Enter D'Ambois, Tamyra, with a chaine of pearle.

Bussy. Sweet mistresse, cease! your conscience is too nice, And bites too hotly of the Puritane spice.

Tamyra. O, my deare servant, in thy close embraces I have set open all the dores of danger To my encompast honour, and my life: 5 Before I was secure against death and hell; But now am subject to the heartlesse feare Of every shadow, and of every breath, And would change firmnesse with an aspen leafe: So confident a spotlesse conscience is, 10 So weake a guilty. O, the dangerous siege Sinne layes about us, and the tyrannie He exercises when he hath expugn'd! Like to the horror of a winter's thunder, Mixt with a gushing storme, that suffer nothing 15 To stirre abroad on earth but their own rages, Is sinne, when it hath gathered head above us; No roofe, no shelter can secure us so, But he will drowne our cheeks in feare or woe.

Buss. Sin is a coward, madam, and insults 20 But on our weaknesse, in his truest valour: And so our ignorance tames us, that we let His shadowes fright us: and like empty clouds In which our faulty apprehensions forge The formes of dragons, lions, elephants, 25 When they hold no proportion, the slie charmes Of the witch policy makes him like a monster Kept onely to shew men for servile money: That false hagge often paints him in her cloth 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.

LINENOTES:

Enter D'Ambois . . . pearle. A, Bucy, Tamyra.

1-2 Sweet . . . spice. A omits.

28 servile. A, Goddesse.

34 our one. So in A: B omits our.

35 selfe. A, truth.

37 one. A, men.

45-61 Now let . . . Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]. A omits.

92 thine eies. A, thy beauties.

118 under our Kings arme. A, underneath the King.

[ACTUS TERTII 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'AEtna 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.

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 services 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 murthering 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.

LINENOTES:

Henry . . . Attendants. A, Henry, D'Ambois, Monsieur, Guise, Mont., Elenor, Tam., Pero.

1 my. A; B omits.

4 sparrowes. A, nothing.

16 man. A, truth.

29 than. So in A; B, by.

53 besieged. A, oppressed.

58 the rest. A, the tother.

67 bout. A, charge.

71-72 Three lines in Qq, i.e. Peace . . . thee peace Let . . . warre He's . . . man.

76 noblier. Emend. ed. Qq, nobly; see note, p. 154.

88 Stay . . . D'Ambois. B, Stay them, stay D'Ambois.

89 honour'd. A, equall.

96 empire. A, eminence.

104 one stick out. A, out one sticke.

105 bound our lifes. A, was compris'd.

107 ingenious. A, ingenuous.

117 hold. A, proove. vertue. A, rodde.

121 Decline not to. A, Engender not.

131-138 And hope . . . D'Amb[ois], Ladies. Omitted in A, which after 130 has: Exeunt Henry, D'Amb., Ely, Ta.

140 worthy. A, proper.

149 ranging. A, gadding.

153 for, you know. A, and indeed.

160-161 the hart, Being old, and cunning in his. A, being old, And cunning in his choice of.

163-164 where . . . his hinde. A has:—

Where his custome is To beat his vault, and he ruts with his hinde.

168 chiefest. A, greatest.

172 the cunningst. A, an excellent.

173-177 I have broken . . . hope there. A has:—

I have already broke the ice, my lord, With the most trusted woman of your Countesse, And hope I shall wade through to our discovery.

178 Gui. A, Mont. omitting the speech Nay . . . there.

179 Starting back. Omitted in A, which instead continues Montsurry's speech with: And we will to the other.

180 indeed. A omits.

185 Nay. A, Pray.

189-193 Well said . . . to thee. Printed in doggerel form in Qq, the lines ending with hands, me, mistresse, thee.

192 of. A, concerning.

193 sworne to thee. A, promised.

194 that assurance. A, that you have sworne.

198-199 so wee reach our objects. A, so it bee not to one that will betray thee.

202 Excellent . . . me. So punctuated by ed.; A, Excellent Pero thou reviv'st me; B, Excellent! Pero thou reviv'st me.

203 to perdition. A, into earth heere.

205 watching. A, wondring.

206 stole up. A, stole.

209 her selfe reading a letter. A, she set close at a banquet.

213 I sweare. A, No, my lord.

215-216 Why this . . . Oh, the. A omits, possibly by mistake.

220 fraught. A, freight.

221 never dreaming of D'Amboys. A omits.

225 this. A, his.

226 should. A, could.

227 made. A, performed.

Whispers. A omits.

233 Between this line and l. 234 A inserts:—

Char. I sweare to your Grace, all that I can conjecture touching my lady, your neece, is a strong affection she beares to the English Mylor.

Gui. All, quod you? tis enough I assure you; but tell me.

242 life—: between this word and especially A inserts: if she marks it.

243 disguise. A, put off.

247 from. A, at.

253 are. A, be.

269 [th]in. Emend. ed; Qq, in.

273 great. A omits.

279 it. A, you.

284 wee. A, I. our mercies. A, my mercy.

303 miraculous. A, horrible.

308 Well, my lord. A, My lord, tis true, and.

311-312 Come . . . of them. A omits.

317 dark and standing foggs. A, monster-formed cloudes.

322-336 But what . . . feares. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

I will conceale all yet, and give more time To D'Ambois triall, now upon my hooke; He awes my throat; else, like Sybillas cave, It should breath oracles; I feare him strangely, And may resemble his advanced valour Unto a spirit rais'd without a circle, Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him, And for whose furie he hath learn'd no limit.

337-391 Whose there . . . sweet heart! A omits, though 382-5, with some variations, appear as 326 (half-line)—330 in B. Cf. preceding note.

358 D'Ambois . . . lord. So punctuated by ed.; B has: D'Ambois! why my lord?

394 browes. A, head.

397 Prince. A, Sir.

400-408 Why wrongfull . . . oftentimes. A omits.

409 Put me in some little doubt. A, This still hath made me doubt.

410 therefore now. A, for me then.

413-414 How . . . friendship. A omits.

414-416 Then . . . not yours. Omitted in A, which has instead: Come, doe not doubt me, and command mee all things.

417 to prove which, by. A, and now by all.

419 still flourishing tree. A, affection.

420 With . . . spring. A omits.

425 Plaine as truth. A omits.

438 pay me home, ile bide it bravely. A, begin, and speake me simply.

447 strumpet. A, wife.

460 thy. A, that. the. A, my.

461 hath reference. A, I carrie.

499 The purest. A, A perfect.



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 Are the most perfect idols of the moone, Or still-unwean'd sweet moon-calves with white faces, Not only are paterns of change to men, But as the tender moon-shine of their beauties Cleares or is cloudy, make men glad or sad. 20 So then they rule in men, not men in them.

Monsieur. But here the moons are chang'd (as the King notes) And either men rule in them, or some power Beyond their voluntary faculty, For nothing can recover their lost faces. 25

Montsurry. None can be alwayes one: our griefes and joyes Hold severall scepters in us, and have times For their divided empires: which griefe now in them Doth prove as proper to his diadem.

Buss. And griefe's a naturall sicknesse of the bloud, 30 That time to part asks, as his comming had; Onely sleight fooles griev'd suddenly are glad. A man may say t'a dead man, "be reviv'd," As well as to one sorrowfull, "be not griev'd." And therefore (princely mistresse) in all warres 35 Against these base foes that insult on weaknesse, And still fight hous'd behind the shield of Nature, Of priviledge law, treachery, or beastly need, Your servant cannot help; authority here Goes with corruption, something like some states 40 That back woorst men; valour to them must creepe That to themselves left would feare him asleepe.

Duchess. Ye all take that for granted that doth rest Yet to be prov'd; we all are as we were, As merry and as free in thought as ever. 45

Guise. And why then can ye not disclose your thoughts?

Tamyra. Me thinks the man hath answer'd for us well.

Mons. The man! why, madam, d'ee not know his name?

Tam. Man is a name of honour for a King: Additions take away from each chiefe thing. 50 The schoole of modesty not to learne learnes dames: They sit in high formes there that know mens names.

Mons. [to Bussy.] Heark, sweet heart, here's a bar set to your valour! It cannot enter here, no, not to notice Of what your name is; your great eagles beak 55 (Should you flie at her) had as good encounter An Albion cliffe as her more craggy liver.

Buss. Ile not attempt her, sir; her sight and name (By which I onely know her) doth deter me.

Henr. So doe they all men else.

Mons. You would say so, 60 If you knew all.

Tam. Knew all, my lord? what meane you?

Mons. All that I know, madam.

Tam. That you know! Speak it.

Mons. No, tis enough I feele it.

Henr. But me thinks Her courtship is more pure then heretofore. True courtiers should be modest, and not nice; 65 Bold, but not impudent; pleasure love, not vice.

Mons. Sweet heart, come hither! what if one should make Horns at Mountsurry, would it not strike him jealous Through all the proofes of his chaste ladies vertues?

Buss. If he be wise, not. 70

Mons. What, not if I should name the gardener That I would have him think hath grafted him?

Buss. So the large licence that your greatnesse uses To jest at all men may be taught indeed To make a difference of the grounds you play on, 75 Both in the men you scandall and the matter.

Mons. As how, as how?

Buss. Perhaps led with a traine Where you may have your nose made lesse and slit, Your eyes thrust out.

Mons. Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace! Who dares doe that? the brother of his King! 80

Buss. Were your King brother in you; all your powers (Stretcht in the armes of great men and their bawds) Set close downe by you; all your stormy lawes Spouted with lawyers mouthes, and gushing bloud, Like to so many torrents; all your glories 85 Making you terrible, like enchanted flames, Fed with bare cockscombs and with crooked hammes, All your prerogatives, your shames, and tortures, All daring heaven and opening hell about you— Were I the man ye wrong'd so and provok'd, 90 (Though ne're so much beneath you) like a box tree I would out of the roughnesse of my root Ramme hardnesse in my lownesse, and, like death Mounted on earthquakes, I would trot through all Honors and horrors, thorow foule and faire, 95 And from your whole strength tosse you into the aire.

Mons. Goe, th'art a devill! such another spirit Could not be still'd from all th'Armenian dragons. O, my loves glory! heire to all I have (That's all I can say, and that all I sweare) 100 If thou out-live me, as I know thou must, Or else hath Nature no proportion'd end To her great labours; she hath breath'd a minde Into thy entrails, of desert to swell Into another great Augustus Caesar; 105 Organs and faculties fitted to her greatnesse; And should that perish like a common spirit, Nature's a courtier and regards no merit.

Henr. Here's nought but whispering with us; like a calme Before a tempest, when the silent ayre 110 Layes her soft eare close to the earth to hearken For that she feares steales on to ravish her; Some fate doth joyne our eares to heare it comming. Come, my brave eagle, let's to covert flie! I see almighty AEther in the smoak 115 Of all his clowds descending, and the skie Hid in the dim ostents of tragedy. Exit Henr[y] with D'Amb[ois] & Ladies.