Guis. Now stirre the humour, and begin the brawle.

Mont. The King and D'Ambois now are growne all one.

Mons. Nay, they are two, my lord.

Mont. How's that?

Mons. No more. 120

Mont. I must have more, my lord.

Mons. What, more than two?

Mont. How monstrous is this!

Mons. Why?

Mont. You make me horns.

Mons. Not I, it is a work without my power, Married mens ensignes are not made with fingers; Of divine fabrique they are, not mens hands: 125 Your wife, you know, is a meere Cynthia, And she must fashion hornes out of her nature.

Mont. But doth she? dare you charge her? speak, false prince.

Mons. I must not speak, my lord; but if you'l use The learning of a noble man, and read, 130 Here's something to those points. Soft, you must pawne Your honour, having read it, to return it.

Enter Tamira, Pero.

Mont. Not I:—I pawne mine honour for a paper!

Mons. You must not buy it under. Exeunt Guise and Monsieur.

Mont. Keepe it then, And keepe fire in your bosome!

Tam. What sayes he? 135

Mont. You must make good the rest.

Tam. How fares my lord? Takes my love any thing to heart he sayes?

Mont. Come, y'are a—

Tam. What, my lord?

Mont. The plague of Herod Feast in his rotten entrailes!

Tam. Will you wreak Your angers just cause given by him on me? 140

Mont. By him?

Tam. By him, my lord. I have admir'd You could all this time be at concord with him, That still hath plaid such discords on your honour.

Mont. Perhaps tis with some proud string of my wives.

Tam. How's that, my lord?

Mont. Your tongue will still admire, 145 Till my head be the miracle of the world.

Tam. O woe is me! She seemes to sound.

Pero. What does your lordship meane? Madam, be comforted; my lord but tries you. Madam! Help, good my lord, are you not mov'd? Doe your set looks print in your words your thoughts? 150 Sweet lord, cleare up those eyes, Unbend that masking forehead. Whence is it You rush upon her with these Irish warres, More full of sound then hurt? But it is enough; You have shot home, your words are in her heart; 155 She has not liv'd to beare a triall now.

Mont. Look up, my love, and by this kisse receive My soule amongst thy spirits, for supply To thine chac'd with my fury.

Tam. O, my lord, I have too long liv'd to heare this from you. 160

Mont. 'Twas from my troubled bloud, and not from me. I know not how I fare; a sudden night Flowes through my entrailes, and a headlong chaos Murmurs within me, which I must digest, And not drowne her in my confusions, 165 That was my lives joy, being best inform'd. Sweet, you must needs forgive me, that my love (Like to a fire disdaining his suppression) Rag'd being discouraged; my whole heart is wounded When any least thought in you is but touch't, 170 And shall be till I know your former merits, Your name and memory, altogether crave In just oblivion their eternall grave; And then, you must heare from me, there's no meane In any passion I shall feele for you. 175 Love is a rasor, cleansing, being well us'd, But fetcheth blood still, being the least abus'd. To tell you briefly all—the man that left me When you appear'd, did turne me worse than woman, And stab'd me to the heart, thus, with his fingers. 180

Tam. O happy woman! comes my stain from him, It is my beauty, and that innocence proves That slew Chymaera, rescued Peleus From all the savage beasts in Peleon, And rais'd the chaste Athenian prince from hell: 185 All suffering with me, they for womens lusts, I for a mans, that the Egean stable Of his foule sinne would empty in my lap. How his guilt shunn'd me! Sacred innocence That, where thou fear'st, are dreadfull, and his face 190 Turn'd in flight from thee that had thee in chace! Come, bring me to him. I will tell the serpent Even to his venom'd teeth (from whose curst seed A pitcht field starts up 'twixt my lord and me) That his throat lies, and he shall curse his fingers 195 For being so govern'd by his filthy soule.

Mont. I know not if himselfe will vaunt t'have beene The princely author of the slavish sinne, Or any other; he would have resolv'd me, Had you not come, not by his word, but writing, 200 Would I have sworne to give it him againe, And pawn'd mine honour to him for a paper.

Tam. See, how he flies me still! tis a foule heart That feares his owne hand. Good my lord, make haste To see the dangerous paper: papers hold 205 Oft-times the formes and copies of our soules, And (though the world despise them) are the prizes Of all our honors; make your honour then A hostage for it, and with it conferre My neerest woman here in all she knowes; 210 Who (if the sunne or Cerberus could have seene Any staine in me) might as well as they. And, Pero, here I charge thee, by my love, And all proofes of it (which I might call bounties); By all that thou hast seene seeme good in mee, 215 And all the ill which thou shouldst spit from thee; By pity of the wound this touch hath given me, Not as thy mistresse now, but a poore woman To death given over, rid me of my paines; Powre on thy powder; cleare thy breast of me. 220 My lord is only here: here speak thy worst; Thy best will doe me mischiefe; if thou spar'st me, Never shine good thought on thy memory! Resolve my lord, and leave me desperate.

Per. My lord!—my lord hath plaid a prodigals part, 225 To break his stock for nothing, and an insolent, To cut a Gordian when he could not loose it. What violence is this, to put true fire To a false train; to blow up long crown'd peace With sudden outrage; and beleeve a man, 230 Sworne to the shame of women, 'gainst a woman Borne to their honours? But I will to him.

Tam. No, I will write (for I shall never more Meet with the fugitive) where I will defie him, Were he ten times the brother of my King. 235 To him, my lord,—and ile to cursing him. Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

with a letter. A omits.

5 foule. A, fare.

16 idols. A, images.

21 So then . . . in them. A omits.

24 faculty. A, motions.

26-29 None . . . diadem. A assigns these lines to Bussy.

28 divided empires. A, predominance.

29 prove. A, claime.

38 priviledge. A, tyrannous.

65 and. A, but.

70-78 If he . . . and slit. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Buss. No, I thinke not.

Mons. Not if I nam'd the man With whom I would make him suspicious His wife hath arm'd his forehead!

Buss. So you might Have your great nose made lesse indeede, and slit.

77-79 In B four lines, broken at (second) how, have, out, thee peace.

92 roughnesse. A, toughnesse.

96 the. A omits.

103 minde. A, spirit.

104 desert. A, effect.

112 steales on to ravish. A, is comming to afflict.

Enter . . . Pero, placed in A after under in 134.

Exeunt . . . Monsieur. A omits.

She seemes to sound. A omits.

151-154 Sweet . . . enough. A has instead:—

Sweete lord, cleare up those eies, for shame of noblesse: Mercilesse creature; but it is enough.

B has three lines broken at forehead, warres, enough.

180 fingers. A, hand.

181 comes . . . him. Punctuated by ed.; Qq, comes my stain from him?

193 Even . . . curst seed. A, Even to his teeth, whence, in mine honors soile.

205-209 papers hold . . . for it. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Be not nice For any trifle, jeweld with your honour, To pawne your honor.

212 well. A, much.

217 this touch. A, my lord.

232 But I will to him. A, Ile attend your lordship.

234 Meet. A, Speake.

236 To him . . . him. A omits.

[ACTUS QUARTI SCENA SECUNDA.

A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Enter D'Ambois and Frier.

Bussy. I am suspitious, my most honour'd father, By some of Monsieurs cunning passages, That his still ranging and contentious nose-thrils To scent the haunts of mischiefe have so us'd The vicious vertue of his busie sence 5 That he trails hotly of him, and will rowze him, Driving him all enrag'd and foming on us; And therefore have entreated your deepe skill In the command of good aeriall spirits, To assume these magick rites, and call up one, 10 To know if any have reveal'd unto him Any thing touching my deare love and me.

Friar. Good sonne, you have amaz'd me but to make The least doubt of it, it concernes so neerely The faith and reverence of my name and order. 15 Yet will I justifie upon my soule All I have done; If any spirit i'th[e] earth or aire Can give you the resolve, doe not despaire.

Musick: and Tamira enters with Pero, her maid, bearing a letter.

Tamyra. Away, deliver it. Exit Pero. O may my lines, 20 Fill'd with the poyson of a womans hate, When he shall open them, shrink up his curst eyes With torturous darknesse, such as stands in hell, Stuck full of inward horrors, never lighted; With which are all things to be fear'd, affrighted. 25

Buss. How is it with my honour'd mistresse?

Tam. O, servant, help, and save me from the gripes Of shame and infamy. Our love is knowne; Your Monsieur hath a paper where is writ Some secret tokens that decipher it. 30

Buss. What cold dull Northern brain, what foole but he, Durst take into his Epimethean breast A box of such plagues as the danger yeelds Incur'd in this discovery? He had better Ventur'd his breast in the consuming reach 35 Of the hot surfets cast out of the clouds, Or stood the bullets that (to wreak the skie) The Cyclops ramme in Joves artillerie.

Fri. We soone will take the darknesse from his face That did that deed of darknesse; we will know 40 What now the Monsieur and your husband doe; What is contain'd within the secret paper Offer'd by Monsieur, and your loves events. To which ends (honour'd daughter) at your motion I have put on these exorcising rites, 45 And, by my power of learned holinesse Vouchsaft me from above, I will command Our resolution of a raised spirit.

Tam. Good father, raise him in some beauteous forme, That with least terror I may brook his sight. 50

Fri. Stand sure together, then, what ere you see, And stir not, as ye tender all our lives. He puts on his robes.

Occidentalium legionum spiritualium imperator (magnus ille Behemoth) veni, veni, comitatus cum Asaroth locotenente invicto. Adjuro te, per Stygis 55 inscrutabilia arcana, per ipsos irremeabiles anfractus Averni: adesto o Behemoth, tu cui pervia sunt Magnatum scrinia; veni, per Noctis & tenebrarum abdita profundissima; per labentia sydera; per ipsos motus horarum furtivos, Hecatesq[ue] altum silentium! 60 Appare in forma spiritali, lucente, splendida, & amabili!

Thunder. Ascendit [Behemoth with Cartophylax and other spirits].

Behemoth. What would the holy frier?

Fri. I would see What now the Monsieur and Mountsurrie doe, And see the secret paper that the Monsieur 65 Offer'd to Count Montsurry; longing much To know on what events the secret loves Of these two honour'd persons shall arrive.

Beh. Why calledst thou me to this accursed light, To these light purposes? I am Emperor 70 Of that inscrutable darknesse, where are hid All deepest truths, and secrets never seene, All which I know; and command legions Of knowing spirits that can doe more then these. Any of this my guard that circle me 75 In these blew fires, and out of whose dim fumes Vast murmurs use to break, and from their sounds Articulat voyces, can doe ten parts more Than open such sleight truths as you require.

Fri. From the last nights black depth I call'd up one 80 Of the inferiour ablest ministers, And he could not resolve mee. Send one, then, Out of thine owne command to fetch the paper That Monsieur hath to shew to Count Montsurry.

Beh. I will. Cartophylax! thou that properly 85 Hast in thy power all papers so inscrib'd, Glide through all barres to it, and fetch that paper.

Cartophylax. I will. A torch removes.

Fri. Till he returnes (great prince of darknesse) Tell me if Monsieur and the Count Montsurry 90 Are yet encounter'd.

Beh. Both them and the Guise Are now together.

Fri. Show us all their persons, And represent the place, with all their actions.

Beh. The spirit will strait return, and then Ile shew thee. See, he is come. Why brought'st thou not the paper? 95

Car. He hath prevented me, and got a spirit Rais'd by another, great in our command, To take the guard of it before I came.

Beh. This is your slacknesse, not t'invoke our powers When first your acts set forth to their effects. 100 Yet shall you see it and themselves. Behold They come here, & the Earle now holds the paper.

Ent[er] Mons[ieur], Gui[se], Mont[surry], with a paper.

Buss. May we not heare them?

[Fri.] No, be still and see.

Buss. I will goe fetch the paper.

Fri. Doe not stirre. There's too much distance, and too many locks 105 Twixt you and them (how neere so e're they seeme) For any man to interrupt their secrets.

Tam. O honour'd spirit, flie into the fancie Of my offended lord; and doe not let him Beleeve what there the wicked man hath written. 110

Beh. Perswasion hath already enter'd him Beyond reflection; peace, till their departure!

* * * * *

Monsieur. There is a glasse of ink where you may see How to make ready black fac'd tragedy: You now discerne, I hope, through all her paintings, 115 Her gasping wrinkles and fames sepulchres.

Guise. Think you he faines, my lord? what hold you now? Doe we maligne your wife, or honour you?

Mons. What, stricken dumb! Nay fie, lord, be not danted: Your case is common; were it ne're so rare, 120 Beare it as rarely! Now to laugh were manly. A worthy man should imitate the weather, That sings in tempests, and being cleare, is silent.

Gui. Goe home, my lord, and force your wife to write Such loving lines to D'Ambois as she us'd 125 When she desir'd his presence.

Mons. Doe, my lord, And make her name her conceal'd messenger, That close and most inennerable pander, That passeth all our studies to exquire: By whom convay the letter to her love; 130 And so you shall be sure to have him come Within the thirsty reach of your revenge. Before which, lodge an ambush in her chamber, Behind the arras, of your stoutest men All close and soundly arm'd; and let them share 135 A spirit amongst them that would serve a thousand.

Enter Pero with a letter.

Gui. Yet, stay a little: see, she sends for you.

Mons. Poore, loving lady, she'le make all good yet; Think you not so, my lord? Mont[surry] stabs Pero, and exit.

Gui. Alas, poore soule!

Mons. This was cruelly done, y'faith.

Pero. T'was nobly done; 140 And I forgive his lordship from my soule.

Mons. Then much good doo't thee, Pero! hast a letter?

Per. I hope it rather be a bitter volume Of worthy curses for your perjury.

Gui. To you, my lord.

Mons. To me? Now out upon her! 145

Gui. Let me see, my lord.

Mons. You shall presently: how fares my Pero? Enter Servant. Who's there? Take in this maid, sh'as caught a clap, And fetch my surgeon to her. Come, my lord, We'l now peruse our letter. Exeunt Mons[ieur], Guise. Lead her out.

Per. Furies rise 150 Out of the black lines, and torment his soule!

* * * * *

Tam. Hath my lord slaine my woman?

Beh. No, she lives.

Fri. What shall become of us?

Beh. All I can say, Being call'd thus late, is briefe, and darkly this:— If D'Ambois mistresse die not her white hand 155 In her forc'd bloud, he shall remaine untoucht: So, father, shall your selfe, but by your selfe. To make this augurie plainer, when the voyce Of D'Amboys shall invoke me, I will rise Shining in greater light, and shew him all 160 That will betide ye all. Meane time be wise, And curb his valour with your policies. Descendit cum suis.

Buss. Will he appeare to me when I invoke him?

Fri. He will, be sure.

Buss. It must be shortly, then, For his dark words have tyed my thoughts on knots 165 Till he dissolve and free them.

Tam. In meane time, Deare servant, till your powerfull voice revoke him, Be sure to use the policy he advis'd; Lest fury in your too quick knowledge taken Of our abuse, and your defence of me, 170 Accuse me more than any enemy. And, father, you must on my lord impose Your holiest charges, and the Churches power, To temper his hot spirit, and disperse The cruelty and the bloud I know his hand 175 Will showre upon our heads, if you put not Your finger to the storme, and hold it up, As my deare servant here must doe with Monsieur.

Buss. Ile sooth his plots, and strow my hate with smiles, Till all at once the close mines of my heart 180 Rise at full date, and rush into his bloud: Ile bind his arme in silk, and rub his flesh To make the veine swell, that his soule may gush Into some kennell where it longs to lie; And policy shall be flanckt with policy. 185 Yet shall the feeling Center where we meet Groane with the wait of my approaching feet: Ile make th'inspired threshals of his Court Sweat with the weather of my horrid steps, Before I enter: yet will I appeare 190 Like calme security before a ruine. A politician must, like lightning, melt The very marrow, and not taint the skin: His wayes must not be seene; the superficies Of the greene Center must not taste his feet, 195 When hell is plow'd up with his wounding tracts, And all his harvest reap't by hellish facts. Exeunt.

Finis Actus Quarti.

LINENOTES:

Enter D'Ambois and Frier and 1-19 I am . . . despaire. A omits.

18 th[e]. Emend, ed.; B, th.

Tamira enters. A, she enters. Pero, her maid. Emend. Dilke; A, her maid; B, Pero and her maid.

22 curst. A omits.

25 After this line A has Father, followed by stage direction: Ascendit Bussy with Comolet.

28-31 Our love is knowne; . . . but he. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Buss. What insensate stocke, Or rude inanimate vapour without fashion.

He puts on his robes. A omits.

Thunder. A omits.

78 Articulat. In some copies of B this is printed: Articular.

80 one. A; B, on.

103 [Fri.] Emend, ed.; Qq, Monsieur.

113 where you may. A, wherein you.

Enter . . . letter. A omits.

Mont[surry] . . . exit. Emend. ed.; A, Exit Mont., which it places after y'faith in l. 140; B, Exit Mont. and stabs Pero.]

143 rather be a bitter. A, be, at least, if not a.

145 To you . . . me? A omits. Enter servant. A omits.

155 die. A, stay.

156 In. A, With. her. Emend. Dilke; Qq, his. See note, p. 159.

162 And curb . . . policies. A, And let him curb his rage with policy.

193 taint. A, print.

197 by. A, from.



ACTUS QUINTI SCENA PRIMA.

[A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Montsurry bare, unbrac't, pulling Tamyra in by the haire; Frier; One bearing light, a standish, and paper, which sets a table.

Tamyra. O, help me, father!

Friar. Impious earle, forbeare; Take violent hand from her, or, by mine order, The King shall force thee.

Montsurry. Tis not violent; Come you not willingly?

Tam. Yes, good my lord.

Fri. My lord, remember that your soule must seek 5 Her peace as well as your revengefull bloud. You ever to this houre have prov'd your selfe A noble, zealous, and obedient sonne T'our holy mother: be not an apostate. Your wives offence serves not (were it the worst 10 You can imagine) without greater proofes To sever your eternall bonds and hearts; Much lesse to touch her with a bloudy hand. Nor is it manly (much lesse husbandly) To expiate any frailty in your wife 15 With churlish strokes, or beastly ods of strength. The stony birth of clowds will touch no lawrell, Nor any sleeper: your wife is your lawrell, And sweetest sleeper; doe not touch her, then; Be not more rude than the wild seed of vapour 20 To her that is more gentle than that rude; In whom kind nature suffer'd one offence But to set off her other excellence.

Mont. Good father, leave us: interrupt no more The course I must runne for mine honour sake. 25 Rely on my love to her, which her fault Cannot extinguish. Will she but disclose Who was the secret minister of her love, And through what maze he serv'd it, we are friends.

Fri. It is a damn'd work to pursue those secrets 30 That would ope more sinne, and prove springs of slaughter; Nor is't a path for Christian feet to tread, But out of all way to the health of soules; A sinne impossible to be forgiven, Which he that dares commit—

Mont. Good father, cease your terrors. 35 Tempt not a man distracted; I am apt To outrages that I shall ever rue: I will not passe the verge that bounds a Christian, Nor break the limits of a man nor husband.

Fri. Then Heaven inspire you both with thoughts and deeds 40 Worthy his high respect, and your owne soules!

Tam. Father!

Fri. I warrant thee, my dearest daughter, He will not touch thee; think'st thou him a pagan? His honor and his soule lies for thy safety. Exit.

Mont. Who shall remove the mountaine from my brest, 45 Stand [in] the opening furnace of my thoughts, And set fit out-cries for a soule in hell? Mont[surry] turnes a key. For now it nothing fits my woes to speak, But thunder, or to take into my throat The trump of Heaven, with whose determinate blasts 50 The windes shall burst and the devouring seas Be drunk up in his sounds, that my hot woes (Vented enough) I might convert to vapour Ascending from my infamie unseene; Shorten the world, preventing the last breath 55 That kils the living, and regenerates death.

Tam. My lord, my fault (as you may censure it With too strong arguments) is past your pardon. But how the circumstances may excuse mee, Heaven knowes, and your more temperate minde hereafter 60 May let my penitent miseries make you know.

Mont. Hereafter! tis a suppos'd infinite That from this point will rise eternally. Fame growes in going; in the scapes of vertue Excuses damne her: they be fires in cities 65 Enrag'd with those winds that lesse lights extinguish. Come syren, sing, and dash against my rocks Thy ruffin gally rig'd with quench for lust: Sing, and put all the nets into thy voice With which thou drew'st into thy strumpets lap 70 The spawne of Venus, and in which ye danc'd; That, in thy laps steed, I may digge his tombe, And quit his manhood with a womans sleight, Who never is deceiv'd in her deceit. Sing (that is, write); and then take from mine eyes 75 The mists that hide the most inscrutable pander That ever lapt up an adulterous vomit, That I may see the devill, and survive To be a devill, and then learne to wive! That I may hang him, and then cut him downe, 80 Then cut him up, and with my soules beams search The cranks and cavernes of his braine, and study The errant wildernesse of a womans face, Where men cannot get out, for all the comets That have beene lighted at it. Though they know 85 That adders lie a sunning in their smiles, That basilisks drink their poyson from their eyes, And no way there to coast out to their hearts, Yet still they wander there, and are not stay'd Till they be fetter'd, nor secure before 90 All cares devoure them, nor in humane consort Till they embrace within their wives two breasts All Pelion and Cythaeron with their beasts.— Why write you not?

Tam. O, good my lord, forbeare In wreak of great faults to engender greater, 95 And make my loves corruption generate murther.

Mont. It followes needfully as childe and parent; The chaine-shot of thy lust is yet aloft, And it must murther; tis thine owne deare twinne. No man can adde height to a womans sinne. 100 Vice never doth her just hate so provoke, As when she rageth under vertues cloake. Write! for it must be—by this ruthlesse steele, By this impartiall torture, and the death Thy tyrannies have invented in my entrails, 105 To quicken life in dying, and hold up The spirits in fainting, teaching to preserve Torments in ashes that will ever last. Speak: will you write?

Tam. Sweet lord, enjoyne my sinne Some other penance than what makes it worse: 110 Hide in some gloomie dungeon my loth'd face, And let condemned murtherers let me downe (Stopping their noses) my abhorred food: Hang me in chaines, and let me eat these armes That have offended: binde me face to face 115 To some dead woman, taken from the cart Of execution?—till death and time In graines of dust dissolve me, Ile endure; Or any torture that your wraths invention Can fright all pitie from the world withall. 120 But to betray a friend with shew of friendship, That is too common for the rare revenge Your rage affecteth; here then are my breasts, Last night your pillowes; here my wretched armes, As late the wished confines of your life: 125 Now break them, as you please, and all the bounds Of manhood, noblesse, and religion.

Mont. Where all these have bin broken, they are kept In doing their justice there with any shew Of the like cruell cruelty: thine armes have lost 130 Their priviledge in lust, and in their torture Thus they must pay it. Stabs her.

Tam. O lord—

Mont. Till thou writ'st, Ile write in wounds (my wrongs fit characters) Thy right of sufferance. Write!

Tam. O kill me, kill me! Deare husband, be not crueller than death! 135 You have beheld some Gorgon: feele, O feele How you are turn'd to stone. With my heart blood Dissolve your selfe againe, or you will grow Into the image of all tyrannie.

Mont. As thou art of adultry; I will ever 140 Prove thee my parallel, being most a monster. Thus I expresse thee yet. Stabs her againe.

Tam. And yet I live.

Mont. I, for thy monstrous idoll is not done yet. This toole hath wrought enough. Now, Torture, use Ent[er] Servants. This other engine on th'habituate powers 145 Of her thrice damn'd and whorish fortitude: Use the most madding paines in her that ever Thy venoms sok'd through, making most of death, That she may weigh her wrongs with them—and then Stand, vengeance, on thy steepest rock, a victor! 150

Tam. O who is turn'd into my lord and husband? Husband! my lord! None but my lord and husband! Heaven, I ask thee remission of my sinnes, Not of my paines: husband, O help me, husband!

Ascendit Frier with a sword drawne.

Fri. What rape of honour and religion! 155 O wrack of nature! Falls and dies.

Tam. Poore man! O, my father! Father, look up! O, let me downe, my lord, And I will write.

Mont. Author of prodigies! What new flame breakes out of the firmament That turnes up counsels never knowne before? 160 Now is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still; Even heaven it selfe must see and suffer ill. The too huge bias of the world hath sway'd Her back-part upwards, and with that she braves This hemisphere that long her mouth hath mockt: 165 The gravity of her religious face (Now growne too waighty with her sacriledge, And here discern'd sophisticate enough) Turnes to th'Antipodes; and all the formes That her illusions have imprest in her 170 Have eaten through her back; and now all see How she is riveted with hypocrisie. Was this the way? was he the mean betwixt you?

Tam. He was, he was, kind worthy man, he was.

Mont. Write, write a word or two.

Tam. I will, I will. 175 Ile write, but with my bloud, that he may see These lines come from my wounds & not from me. Writes.

Mont. Well might he die for thought: methinks the frame And shaken joynts of the whole world should crack To see her parts so disproportionate; 180 And that his generall beauty cannot stand Without these staines in the particular man. Why wander I so farre? here, here was she That was a whole world without spot to me, Though now a world of spots. Oh what a lightning 185 Is mans delight in women! What a bubble He builds his state, fame, life on, when he marries! Since all earths pleasures are so short and small, The way t'enjoy it is t'abjure it all. Enough! I must be messenger my selfe, 190 Disguis'd like this strange creature. In, Ile after, To see what guilty light gives this cave eyes, And to the world sing new impieties.

He puts the Frier in the vault and follows. She raps her self in the arras.

Exeunt [Servants].

LINENOTES:

by the haire. A omits.

1-4 O, help . . . my lord. A omits.

21 than that. A, than it.

28 secret. A, hateful.

32 tread. A, touch.

35 your terrors. A omits.

35-6 Good . . . distracted. B punctuates:—

Good father cease: your terrors Tempt not a man distracted.

40 Heaven. A, God. you. A, ye.

42-4 Father . . . safety. A omits.

45 brest. A, heart.

46 Stand [in] the opening. Emend, ed.; A, Ope the seven-times heat; B, Stand the opening.

48 woes. A, cares.

51 devouring. A, enraged.

60 Heaven. A, God.

68 rig'd with quench for. A, laden for thy.

91 devoure. A, distract. consort. A, state.

95 faults. A, sins.

129 with any shew . . . cruelty. A omits.

140 ever. A, still.

141 parallel. A, like in ill.

Enter Servants. A omits.

with a sword drawne. A omits.

Falls and dies. A omits.

174 worthy. A, innocent.

He . . . arras. Exeunt. A omits; B places He . . . arras after Exeunt.

[SCENA SECUNDA.

A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Enter Monsieur and Guise.

Monsieur. Now shall we see that Nature hath no end In her great works responsive to their worths; That she, that makes so many eyes and soules To see and fore-see, is stark blind her selfe; And as illiterate men say Latine prayers 5 By rote of heart and dayly iteration, Not knowing what they say, so Nature layes A deale of stuffe together, and by use, Or by the meere necessity of matter, Ends such a work, fills it, or leaves it empty 10 Of strength, or vertue, error, or cleare truth, Not knowing what she does; but usually Gives that which we call merit to a man, And beliefe must arrive him on huge riches, Honour and happinesse, that effects his ruine. 15 Even as in ships of warre whole lasts of powder Are laid, me thinks, to make them last, and gard them, When a disorder'd spark, that powder taking, Blowes up, with sodaine violence and horror, Ships that (kept empty) had sayl'd long, with terror. 20

Guise. He that observes but like a worldly man That which doth oft succeed and by th'events Values the worth of things, will think it true That Nature works at random, just with you: But with as much proportion she may make 25 A thing that from the feet up to the throat Hath all the wondrous fabrique man should have, And leave it headlesse, for a perfect man, As give a full man valour, vertue, learning, Without an end more excellent then those 30 On whom she no such worthy part bestowes.

Mons. Yet shall you see it here; here will be one Young, learned, valiant, vertuous, and full mann'd; One on whom Nature spent so rich a hand That with an ominous eye she wept to see 35 So much consum'd her vertuous treasurie. Yet as the winds sing through a hollow tree, And (since it lets them passe through) let's it stand; But a tree solid (since it gives no way To their wild rage) they rend up by the root: 40 So this whole man (That will not wind with every crooked way Trod by the servile world) shall reele and fall Before the frantick puffes of blind borne chance, That pipes through empty men and makes them dance. 45 Not so the sea raves on the Libian sands, Tumbling her billowes in each others neck: Not so the surges of the Euxian Sea (Neere to the frosty pole, where free Bootes From those dark deep waves turnes his radiant teame) 50 Swell, being enrag'd even from their inmost drop, As fortune swings about the restlesse state Of vertue now throwne into all mens hate.

Enter Montsurry disguis'd, with the murtherers.

Away, my lord; you are perfectly disguis'd; Leave us to lodge your ambush.

Montsurry. Speed me, vengeance! 55 Exit.

Mons. Resolve, my masters, you shall meet with one Will try what proofes your privy coats are made on: When he is entred, and you heare us stamp, Approach, and make all sure.

Murderers. We will, my lord. Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

1-59 Now shall . . . we will my lord. These lines are placed in A at the beginning of Scena Quarta.

3 that makes. A, who makes.

7 Not knowing what they say. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

In whose hot zeale a man would thinke they knew What they ranne so away with, and were sure To have rewards proportion'd to their labours; Yet may implore their owne confusions For anything they know, which oftentimes It fals out they incurre.

8 deale. A, masse.

13 we call. A; B, she calls.

14 must. A, should.

16 Even. A, Right.

17 me thinks. men thinke. gard them. A; B, guard.

25 proportion. A, decorum.

28 a perfect. A, an absolute.

29 full. A, whole.

32 Yet shall you. A, Why you shall.

38 let's. A, let.

40 rage. A, rages.

41-43 So this . . . and fall. A has instead: So this full creature now shall reele and fall.

44 blind borne. A, purblinde.

Enter Montsurry . . . murtherers, and 54-59, Away . . . will, my lord. Omitted in A.

[SCENA TERTIA.

A Room in Bussy's House.]

D'Ambois, with two Pages with tapers.

Bussy. Sit up to night, and watch: Ile speak with none But the old Frier, who bring to me.

Pages. We will, sir. Exeunt.

Buss. What violent heat is this? me thinks the fire Of twenty lives doth on a suddaine flash Through all my faculties: the ayre goes high 5 In this close chamber and the frighted earth Thunder. Trembles and shrinks beneath me; the whole house Nods with his shaken burthen.

Enter Umb[ra] Frier.

Blesse me, heaven!

Umb[ra Friar]. Note what I want, deare sonne, and be fore-warn'd. O there are bloudy deeds past and to come. 10 I cannot stay; a fate doth ravish me; Ile meet thee in the chamber of thy love. Exit.

Buss. What dismall change is here! the good old Frier Is murther'd, being made knowne to serve my love; And now his restlesse spirit would fore-warne me 15 Of some plot dangerous, and imminent. Note what he wants! He wants his upper weed, He wants his life, and body: which of these Should be the want he meanes, and may supply me With any fit fore-warning? This strange vision, 20 (Together with the dark prediction Us'd by the Prince of Darknesse that was rais'd By this embodied shadow) stirre my thoughts With reminiscion of the Spirits promise, Who told me that by any invocation 25 I should have power to raise him, though it wanted The powerfull words and decent rites of art. Never had my set braine such need of spirit T'instruct and cheere it; now then I will claime Performance of his free and gentle vow 30 T'appeare in greater light, and make more plain His rugged oracle. I long to know How my deare mistresse fares, and be inform'd What hand she now holds on the troubled bloud Of her incensed lord: me thought the Spirit 35 (When he had utter'd his perplext presage) Threw his chang'd countenance headlong into clouds; His forehead bent, as it would hide his face, He knockt his chin against his darkned breast, And struck a churlish silence through his pow'rs. 40 Terror of darknesse! O, thou King of flames! That with thy musique-footed horse dost strike The cleare light out of chrystall on dark earth, And hurlst instructive fire about the world, Wake, wake, the drowsie and enchanted night 45 That sleepes with dead eyes in this heavy riddle! Or thou great Prince of Shades, where never sunne Stickes his far-darted beames, whose eyes are made To shine in darknesse, and see ever best Where men are blindest, open now the heart 50 Of thy abashed oracle, that, for feare Of some ill it includes, would faine lie hid, And rise thou with it in thy greater light!

Thunders. Surgit Spiritus cum suis.

Behemoth. Thus, to observe my vow of apparition In greater light, and explicate thy fate, 55 I come; and tell thee that, if thou obey The summons that thy mistresse next will send thee, Her hand shall be thy death.

Buss. When will she send?

Beh. Soone as I set againe, where late I rose.

Buss. Is the old Frier slaine?

Beh. No, and yet lives not. 60

Buss. Died he a naturall death?

Beh. He did.

Buss. Who then Will my deare mistresse send?

Beh. I must not tell thee.

Buss. Who lets thee?

Beh. Fate.

Buss. Who are Fates ministers?

Beh. The Guise and Monsieur.

Buss. A fit paire of sheeres To cut the threds of kings and kingly spirits, 65 And consorts fit to sound forth harmony Set to the fals of kingdomes. Shall the hand Of my kind mistresse kill me?

Beh. If thou yeeld To her next summons. Y'are faire warn'd; farewell! Thunders. Exit.

Buss. I must fare well, how ever, though I die, 70 My death consenting with his augurie. Should not my powers obay when she commands, My motion must be rebell to my will, My will to life; if, when I have obay'd, Her hand should so reward me, they must arme it, 75 Binde me, or force it; or, I lay my life, She rather would convert it many times On her owne bosome, even to many deaths. But were there danger of such violence, I know 'tis farre from her intent to send: 80 And who she should send is as farre from thought, Since he is dead whose only mean she us'd. Knocks. Whose there? Look to the dore, and let him in, Though politick Monsieur, or the violent Guise.

Enter Montsurry like the Frier, with a letter written in bloud.

Mont. Haile to my worthy sonne!

Buss. O lying Spirit, 85 To say the Frier was dead! Ile now beleeve Nothing of all his forg'd predictions. My kinde and honour'd father, well reviv'd! I have beene frighted with your death and mine, And told my mistresse hand should be my death, 90 If I obeyed this summons.

Mont. I beleev'd Your love had bin much clearer then to give Any such doubt a thought, for she is cleare, And having freed her husbands jealousie (Of which her much abus'd hand here is witnesse) 95 She prayes, for urgent cause, your instant presence.

Buss. Why, then, your Prince of Spirits may be call'd The Prince of lyers.

Mont. Holy Writ so calls him.

Buss. What! writ in bloud!

Mont. I, 'tis the ink of lovers.

Buss. O, 'tis a sacred witnesse of her love. 100 So much elixer of her bloud as this, Dropt in the lightest dame, would make her firme As heat to fire; and, like to all the signes, Commands the life confinde in all my veines. O, how it multiplies my bloud with spirit, 105 And makes me apt t'encounter death and hell. But come, kinde father; you fetch me to heaven, And to that end your holy weed was given. Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

with tapers. A omits.

Thunder. A omits.

8 Nods. A, Crackes.

Enter . . . Frier. Placed after heaven in Qq.

9 deare. A, my.

15-16 and now . . . imminent. A omits.

17 upper. A, utmost.

49 shine. A, see.

50 men are. A, sense is.

Thunders A omits

Thunders. A omits.

76 or. A, and.

with a letter written in bloud. A omits.

85-98 O lying Spirit . . . calls him. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Buss. O lying Spirit: welcome, loved father, How fares my dearest mistresse?

Mont. Well as ever, Being well as ever thought on by her lord: Wherof she sends this witnesse in her hand, And praies, for urgent cause, your speediest presence.

91-92 I beleeved . . . give. One line in B.

[SCENA QUARTA.

A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Thunder. Intrat Umbra Frier and discovers Tamyra.

[Umbra] Friar. Up with these stupid thoughts, still loved daughter, And strike away this heartlesse trance of anguish: Be like the sunne, and labour in eclipses. Look to the end of woes: oh, can you sit Mustering the horrors of your servants slaughter 5 Before your contemplation, and not study How to prevent it? Watch when he shall rise, And, with a suddaine out-crie of his murther, Blow his retreat before he be revenged.

Tamyra. O father, have my dumb woes wak'd your death? 10 When will our humane griefes be at their height? Man is a tree that hath no top in cares, No root in comforts; all his power to live Is given to no end but t'have power to grieve.

Umb. Fri. It is the misery of our creation. 15 Your true friend, Led by your husband, shadowed in my weed, Now enters the dark vault.

Tam. But, my dearest father, Why will not you appeare to him your selfe, And see that none of these deceits annoy him? 20

Umb. Fri. My power is limited; alas! I cannot; All that I can doe—See! the cave opens. Exit.

D'Amboys at the gulfe.

Tam. Away (my love) away! thou wilt be murther'd.

Enter Monsieur and Guise above.

Bussy. Murther'd! I know not what that Hebrew means: That word had ne're bin nam'd had all bin D'Ambois. 25 Murther'd! By heaven, he is my murtherer That shewes me not a murtherer: what such bugge Abhorreth not the very sleepe of D'Amboys? Murther'd! Who dares give all the room I see To D'Ambois reach? or look with any odds 30 His fight i'th' face, upon whose hand sits death, Whose sword hath wings, and every feather pierceth? If I scape Monsieurs pothecarie shops, Foutir for Guises shambles! 'Twas ill plotted; They should have mall'd me here 35 When I was rising. I am up and ready. Let in my politique visitants, let them in, Though entring like so many moving armours. Fate is more strong than arms and slie than treason, And I at all parts buckl'd in my fate. 40

Mons. } Guise. } Why enter not the coward villains?

Buss. Dare they not come?

Enter Murtherers, with [Umbra] Frier at the other dore.

Tam. They come.

First Murderer. Come, all at once!

[Umbra] Friar. Back, coward murtherers, back!

Omnes. Defend us heaven! Exeunt all but the first.

First Murd. Come ye not on?

Buss. No, slave! nor goest thou off. Stand you so firme?

[Strikes at him with his sword.]

Will it not enter here? 45 You have a face yet. So! in thy lifes flame I burne the first rites to my mistresse fame.

Umb. Fri. Breath thee, brave sonne, against the other charge.

Buss. O is it true, then, that my sense first told me? Is my kind father dead?

Tam. He is, my love; 50 'Twas the Earle, my husband, in his weed that brought thee.

Buss. That was a speeding sleight, and well resembled. Where is that angry Earle? My lord! come forth, And shew your owne face in your owne affaire; Take not into your noble veines the blood 55 Of these base villaines, nor the light reports Of blister'd tongues for cleare and weighty truth: But me against the world, in pure defence Of your rare lady, to whose spotlesse name I stand here as a bulwark, and project 60 A life to her renowne that ever yet Hath been untainted, even in envies eye, And, where it would protect, a sanctuarie. Brave Earle, come forth, and keep your scandall in! 'Tis not our fault, if you enforce the spot; 65 Nor the wreak yours, if you performe it not.

Enter Mont[surry] with all the murtherers.

Montsurry. Cowards! a fiend or spirit beat ye off! They are your owne faint spirits that have forg'd The fearefull shadowes that your eyes deluded: The fiend was in you; cast him out, then, thus! 70

[Montsurry fights with D'Ambois.] D'Ambois hath Montsurry downe.

Tam. Favour my lord, my love, O, favour him!

Buss. I will not touch him. Take your life, my lord, And be appeas'd. Pistolls shot within. O then the coward Fates Have maim'd themselves, and ever lost their honour!

Umb. Fri. What have ye done, slaves! irreligious lord! 75

Buss. Forbeare them, father; 'tis enough for me That Guise and Monsieur, death and destinie, Come behind D'Ambois. Is my body, then, But penetrable flesh, and must my mind Follow my blood? Can my divine part adde 80 No ayd to th'earthly in extremity? Then these divines are but for forme, not fact; Man is of two sweet courtly friends compact, A mistresse and a servant. Let my death Define life nothing but a courtiers breath. 85 Nothing is made of nought, of all things made Their abstract being a dreame but of a shade. Ile not complaine to earth yet, but to heaven, And (like a man) look upwards even in death. And if Vespasian thought in majestie 90 An Emperour might die standing, why not I? She offers to help him. Nay, without help, in which I will exceed him; For he died splinted with his chamber groomes. Prop me, true sword, as thou hast ever done! The equall thought I beare of life and death 95 Shall make me faint on no side; I am up. Here, like a Roman statue, I will stand Till death hath made me marble. O my fame Live in despight of murther! take thy wings And haste thee where the gray-ey'd morn perfumes 100 Her rosie chariot with Sabaean spices! Fly where the evening from th'Iberean vales Takes on her swarthy shoulders Heccate Crown'd with a grove of oakes! flie where men feele The burning axeltree; and those that suffer 105 Beneath the chariot of the snowy Beare: And tell them all that D'Ambois now is hasting To the eternall dwellers; that a thunder Of all their sighes together (for their frailties Beheld in me) may quit my worthlesse fall 110 With a fit volley for my funerall.

Umb. Fri. Forgive thy murtherers.

Buss. I forgive them all; And you, my lord, their fautor; for true signe Of which unfain'd remission, take my sword; Take it, and onely give it motion, 115 And it shall finde the way to victory By his owne brightnesse, and th'inherent valour My fight hath still'd into't with charmes of spirit. Now let me pray you that my weighty bloud, Laid in one scale of your impertiall spleene, 120 May sway the forfeit of my worthy love Waid in the other: and be reconcil'd With all forgivenesse to your matchlesse wife.

Tam. Forgive thou me, deare servant, and this hand That lead thy life to this unworthy end; 125 Forgive it for the bloud with which 'tis stain'd, In which I writ the summons of thy death— The forced summons—by this bleeding wound, By this here in my bosome, and by this That makes me hold up both my hands embrew'd 130 For thy deare pardon.

Buss. O, my heart is broken. Fate nor these murtherers, Monsieur nor the Guise, Have any glory in my death, but this, This killing spectacle, this prodigie. My sunne is turn'd to blood, in whose red beams 135 Pindus and Ossa (hid in drifts of snow Laid on my heart and liver), from their veines Melt, like two hungry torrents eating rocks, Into the ocean of all humane life, And make it bitter, only with my bloud. 140 O fraile condition of strength, valour, vertue In me (like warning fire upon the top Of some steepe beacon, on a steeper hill) Made to expresse it: like a falling starre Silently glanc't, that like a thunderbolt 145 Look't to have struck, and shook the firmament! Moritur.

Umb. Fri. Farewell! brave reliques of a compleat man, Look up, and see thy spirit made a starre. Joine flames with Hercules, and when thou set'st Thy radiant forehead in the firmament, 150 Make the vast chrystall crack with thy receipt; Spread to a world of fire, and the aged skie Cheere with new sparks of old humanity. [To Montsurry.] Son of the earth, whom my unrested soule Rues t'have begotten in the faith of heaven, 155 Assay to gratulate and pacifie The soule fled from this worthy by performing The Christian reconcilement he besought Betwixt thee and thy lady; let her wounds, Manlessly digg'd in her, be eas'd and cur'd 160 With balme of thine owne teares; or be assur'd Never to rest free from my haunt and horror.

Mont. See how she merits this, still kneeling by, And mourning his fall, more than her own fault!

Umb. Fri. Remove, deare daughter, and content thy husband: 165 So piety wills thee, and thy servants peace.

Tam. O wretched piety, that art so distract In thine owne constancie, and in thy right Must be unrighteous. If I right my friend, I wrong my husband; if his wrong I shunne, 170 The duty of my friend I leave undone. Ill playes on both sides; here and there it riseth; No place, no good, so good, but ill compriseth. O had I never married but for forme; Never vow'd faith but purpos'd to deceive; 175 Never made conscience of any sinne, But clok't it privately and made it common; Nor never honour'd beene in bloud or mind; Happy had I beene then, as others are Of the like licence; I had then beene honour'd, 180 Liv'd without envie; custome had benumb'd All sense of scruple and all note of frailty; My fame had beene untouch'd, my heart unbroken: But (shunning all) I strike on all offence. O husband! deare friend! O my conscience! 185

Mons. Come, let's away; my sences are not proofe Against those plaints.

Exeunt Guise, Mon[sieur above]. D'Ambois is borne off.

Mont. I must not yeeld to pity, nor to love So servile and so trayterous: cease, my bloud, To wrastle with my honour, fame, and judgement. 190 Away! forsake my house; forbeare complaints Where thou hast bred them: here all things [are] full Of their owne shame and sorrow—leave my house.

Tam. Sweet lord, forgive me, and I will be gone; And till these wounds (that never balme shall close 195 Till death hath enterd at them, so I love them, Being opened by your hands) by death be cur'd, I never more will grieve you with my sight; Never endure that any roofe shall part Mine eyes and heaven; but to the open deserts 200 (Like to a hunted tygres) I will flie, Eating my heart, shunning the steps of men, And look on no side till I be arriv'd.

Mont. I doe forgive thee, and upon my knees (With hands held up to heaven) wish that mine honour 205 Would suffer reconcilement to my love: But, since it will not, honour never serve My love with flourishing object, till it sterve! And as this taper, though it upwards look, Downwards must needs consume, so let our love! 210 As, having lost his hony, the sweet taste Runnes into savour, and will needs retaine A spice of his first parents, till (like life) It sees and dies, so let our love! and, lastly, As when the flame is suffer'd to look up 215 It keepes his luster, but being thus turn'd downe (His naturall course of usefull light inverted) His owne stuffe puts it out, so let our love! Now turne from me, as here I turne from thee; And may both points of heavens strait axeltree 220 Conjoyne in one, before thy selfe and me! Exeunt severally.

Finis Actus Quinti & Ultimi.

LINENOTES:

Thunder . . . Tamyra. A has: Intrat umbra Comolet to the Countesse, wrapt in a canapie.

1-6 Up . . . not study. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Revive those stupid thoughts, and sit not thus, Gathering the horrors of your servants slaughter (So urg'd by your hand, and so imminent) Into an idle fancie; but devise.

9 revenged. A, engaged.

14 t'have. A; B, have.

15-22 It is . . . opens. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Umb. Tis the just curse of our abus'd creation, Which wee must suffer heere, and scape heereafter: He hath the great mind that submits to all He sees inevitable; he the small That carps at earth, and her foundation shaker, And rather than himselfe, will mend his maker.

16 Your . . . friend. In B ends preceding line.

Enter . . . above. A omits.

30 To. Some copies of B have T.

33-36 If I . . . and ready. A omits.

41 Why . . . villains? A omits.

Enter . . . dore. A omits.

all but the first. A omits.

53 Qq punctuate wrongly:—Where is that angry Earle my lord? Come forth.

all the murtherers. A, others.

D'Ambois . . . downe. A omits.

Pistolls shot within. Inserted before 72 in B; A omits.

90-93 And if . . . groomes. A omits.

She offers to help him. Inserted before 95 in B. A omits.

119 Now. A, And.

135 in. A, gainst.

136 drifts of. A, endless.

146 struck. Emend. ed.; Qq, stuck.

Moritur. A omits.

147-153 Farewell . . . humanity. These lines are placed by A at the close of the Scene, and are preceded by three lines which B omits:—

My terrors are strook inward, and no more My pennance will allow they shall enforce Earthly afflictions but upon my selfe.

147 reliques. A, relicts.

149 Joine flames with Hercules. So in A; B, Jove flames with her rules.

151 chrystall. A, continent.

154 Son . . . soule. Before this line B has Frier.

155 Rues . . . heaven. After this line A inserts:—

Since thy revengefull spirit hath rejected The charitie it commands, and the remission To serve and worship the blind rage of bloud.

163 kneeling. A, sitting.

173 No place . . . compriseth. After this line A inserts:—

My soule more scruple breeds than my bloud sinne, Vertue imposeth more than any stepdame.

186-187 Come . . . plaints. A omits.

192 [are]. Added by Dilke; Qq omit.

196 enterd. A; B, enterr'd.

201 a. A omits.



EPILOGUE

With many hands you have seene D'Ambois slaine; Yet by your grace he may revive againe, And every day grow stronger in his skill To please, as we presume he is in will. The best deserving actors of the time 5 Had their ascents, and by degrees did clime To their full height, a place to studie due. To make him tread in their path lies in you; Hee'le not forget his makers, but still prove His thankfulnesse, as you encrease your love. 10

FINIS.

LINENOTES:

Epilogue Not found in A.



Notes To Bussy D'Ambois

For the meaning of single words see the Glossary.

Prologue. The allusions in these lines can be only partially explained. The play had evidently been performed, not long before 1641, by a company which had not possessed original acting rights in it. The performance had been successful (cf. ll. 3-4 "the grace of late It did receive"), and the "King's men," while not claiming a monopoly in it, nor seeking to detract from their rivals' merits, felt bound to revive the play on their own account, lest they should seem to be letting their claim go by default. It is possible that in ll. 11-12, they refer to a performance that in vindication of this claim they had given at Court, while, as further evidence of their priority of interest, they remind the audience of the actors belonging to the company who had appeared in the title-role. Nathaniel Field (l. 15), born in 1587, had as a boy been one of the "Children of the Queen's Revels," and had performed in Jonson's Cynthia's Revels, 1600, and Poetaster, 1601. He seems to have joined the King's players soon after 1614, and his name appears in the list of "the principall actors in all these playes" prefixed to the first Shakespearean Folio of 1623. Not long after this period, Field, who by his Woman is a Weathercock (1612) and his Amends for Ladies (1618) had made a reputation as a dramatist as well as an actor, is believed to have retired from the stage, though he lived till 1633. If, however, he did not appear as Bussy till after 1614, when the play had already been at least seven years, perhaps considerably longer, on the boards, it can scarcely be said with truth that his "action first did give it name" (l. 16). His successor in the part, whom the "gray beard" (l. 18) of advancing years had now disqualified, cannot be identified; but the "third man" (l. 21) is probably Ilyard Swanston, who, according to Fleay (Biog. Chron. of Drama, vol. I, p. 60), was one of the "King's men" from 1625 to 1642. His impersonation of Bussy is favourably referred to by Edmund Gayton in his Festivous Notes upon Don Quixote (1654), p. 25 and his previous role of "Richard" (l. 23) may have been that of Ricardo in Massinger's Picture, which he had played in 1629 (cf. Phelps, Geo. Chap. p. 125). The earlier editors thought that Charles Hart was here alluded to, but Wright in his Historia Histrionica states it was the part of the Duchess in Shirley's Cardinal, licensed 1641, that first gave him any reputation. Hence he cannot at this date have performed Bussy; his fame in the part was made after the Restoration (cf. Introduction, p. xxv).

5-6, 1-33. Fortune . . . port. This opening speech of Bussy illustrates the difficult compression of Chapman's style and the diversion of his thought from strictly logical sequence by his excessive use of simile. He begins (ll. 1-4) by emphasising the paradoxical character of human affairs, in which only those escape poverty who are abnormal, while it is among the necessitous that worthily typical representatives of the race must be sought. The former class, under the designation of "great men," are then (after a parenthetical comparison with cedars waxing amidst tempests) likened to statuaries who are satisfied if the exterior of the Colossus they are creating is sufficiently imposing; they are then (by an awkward transition of the imagery) likened to the statues themselves (l. 15) "heroique" in form but "morter, flint, and lead" within. Chapman's meaning is here obvious enough, but it is a singular canon of aesthetics that estimates the worth of a statue by the materials out of which it is made. In l. 18 a new thought is started, that of the transitoriness of life, and the perishable nature of its gifts, and as the ocean-voyager needs a stay-at-home pilot to steer him safely into port, so the adventurer in "the waves of glassie glory" (ll. 29-30) is bidden look to "vertue" for guidance to his desired haven—not exactly the conclusion to be expected from the opening lines of the speech.

6, 23. To put a girdle . . . world. The editors all compare Mid. Night's Dream, I, 1, 175, which Chapman probably had in mind.

7, 34. in numerous state. A play of words, apparently, on two senses of the phrase: (1) the series of numbers, (2) a populous kingdom.

8, 59. gurmundist. The N. E. D. quotes no other example of the form "gurmundist" for "gurmond" = "gourmand."

9, 86-87. set my looks In an eternall brake: keep my countenance perpetually immoveable. A "brake" is a piece of framework for holding something steady.

15, 187. I am a poet. This is historically true. A poem of some length, Stances faictes par M. de Bussy, is quoted by Joubert in his Bussy D'Amboise, pp. 205-09.

15, 194-95. chaine And velvet jacket: the symbols of a steward's office.

16, 207. his woodden dagger. The Elizabethan jester carried the wooden dagger or sword, which was often one of the properties of the "Vice" in the later Moralities and the Interludes.

17, Pyra. Though this character is mentioned here and elsewhere among the Dramatis Personae, she takes no part in the dialogue.

17, 2. that English virgin: apparently Annable, who is the Duchess of Guise's lady-in-waiting (cf. III, 2, 234-40).

18, 15. what's that to: what has that to do with.

18, 16-27. Assure you . . . confusion to it. With this encomium on Elizabeth and her Court compare Crequi's account of Byron's compliments to the Queen (Byron's Conspiracie, IV, 1).

19, 36. Which we must not affect: which change, however, we must not desire to take place.

19, 39-43. No question . . . as they. The travelled Englishman's affectation of foreign attire is a stock theme of Elizabethan satire. Cf. (e. g.) Merch. of Ven. I, 2, 78-81.

19, 44. travell. A pun on the two senses, (1) journey, (2) labour, the latter of which is now distinguished by the spelling "travail."

21, 85. Tis leape yeare. F. G. Fleay (Biog. Chron. I, 59) considers that this refers "to the date of production, as Bussy's introduction at Court was in 1569, not a Leap Year," and that it "fixes the time of representation to 1604." See Introduction.

22, 110. the groome-porters. Chapman here transfers to the French Court an official peculiar to the English Royal Household till his abolition under George III. The function of the groom-porter was to furnish cards and dice for all gaming at Court, and to decide disputes arising at play.

23, 123. the guiserd. The play on words here is not clear; "guiserd" may be a variant of "gizzard," in which case it would mean the Duke's throat. This is more probable than a "jingling allusion . . . to goose-herd or gozzard," which Dilke suggests.

23, 124. are you blind of that side: unguarded and assailable in that direction.

23, 130. Accius Naevius: the augur who cut a whetstone in pieces in presence of Tarquinius Priscus.

23, 133. mate: either match or put down, overcome. The latter sense is more probable, with a punning allusion to the use of the word in chess, at which Guise seems to be engaged with the King. Cf. l. 184.

23, 135-36. of the new edition: of the recent creation. An allusion to the lavish creation of knights by James, shortly after his accession.

24, 141-42. y'ave cut too many throats. An allusion to Guise's share in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. Contrast the references to the episode in The Revenge, II, 1, 198-234.

24, 149. the Knights ward. Dilke thought that the allusion here was to the "poor knights of Windsor," but it really refers to a part of the "Counter" prison in London. Cf. Eastward Hoe, V, 2, 54, where Wolf says of Sir Petronel Flash, "The knight will i' the Knights-Ward, doe what we can, sir." (See Schelling's note.)

24, 163-64. out a th' presence: outside the presence of the Sovereign.

25, 168. like a rush. An allusion to the custom, still prevalent in Chapman's time, of strewing floors with rushes.

25, 178-79. of the place The divers frames. An obscure expression, which may mean: the varied character in different places of the bed of the sea.

25, 180-83. Bristled . . . fome. The imagery in these lines also presents difficulty. D'Ambois's heart is likened to the sea, which, once swollen into billows, will not sink into its original calm till it is overspread by the crown or sheet of foam which the waves, after their subsidence, leave behind.

25, 184. You have the mate. Cf. textual note on I, 1, 153, and note on 23, 133, p. 148.

26, 208. a blanquet. To toss D'Ambois in, as is plain from l. 212.

26, 211. carrie it cleane: comes off easily superior.

27, 237-38. Your descants . . . this ground. There is a complicated play on words here. Descant in music is the melodious accompaniment to a simple theme, the plainsong or ground. Hence arises the derived meaning, a variation on any theme, a comment, often of a censorious kind. This, as well as the original meaning, is implied here, while ground has, of course, its usual as well as its technical sense.

28, 243-44. Ile be your ghost to haunt you. May this be an early reference to Banquo's ghost? Macbeth was probably produced in 1606, the year before Bussy D'Ambois was printed.

28, 261. musk-cats: civet-cats, and hence, scented persons, fops.

28, 262. this priviledge. The royal presence-chamber, though the King has left it, is still regarded as inviolable.

29. Henry, Guise, Montsurry and Attendants. The Qq of 1607 and 1608, instead of Montsurry and Attendants, read Beaumond, Nuncius. Nuncius is a mistake, as he does not enter till after l. 24. Beaumond is evidently a courtier, who speaks ll. 105-107 (Such a life . . . of men), and who goes out with the King after l. 206. In 1641 and later Qq it was apparently thought desirable to leave out this "single-speech" character and transfer his words to Montsurry; but by an oversight Beau. was left prefixed to the second half of l. 105, and the S. D., Exit Rex cum Beau., was retained after l. 206. The editor has therefore substituted Mont. for Beau. in either case. Montsurry being thus present at the pardon of Bussy, the 1641 and later Qq leave out ll. 1-50 of the next Scene wherein inter alia Montsurry speaks of the pardon as yet undecided, and Guise enters to announce it to him.

Dilke in his edition in 1814 thought Beaumond a misprint for Beaupre, who appears in other scenes, and whom he took to be a man, instead of a woman. Hence he reads Montsurry, Beaupre and Attendants both here and after l. 206. The other editors have not realized that there is any discrepancy to be explained.

29, 12-13. bruits it . . . healthfull: proclaims it through the world to be sound and wholesome.

31, 51-52. Pyrrho's opinion . . . are one. A sweeping generalisation, which cannot be accepted as an interpretation of the doctrines of the sceptical philosopher of Elis.

31, 54-58. As Hector . . . speak. The reference is to Iliad, VII, 54 ff., though Hector is there described as keeping back the Trojans with his spear.

32, 60. Ript up the quarrell: explained the cause and origin of the quarrel (Dilke).

32, 63-64. conclude The others dangers: might put an end to the risks of their companions by making their single combat cover the whole quarrel. Conclude here unites the Elizabethan sense include with the ordinary meaning finish.

32, 77-80. And then . . . never kill. An anticipation, as Lamb and others have pointed out, of Milton's description of angelic wounds, Par. Lost, VI, 344-49.

33, 84-87. Thrice pluckt . . . scap't. The accumulation of personal pronouns makes the interpretation somewhat difficult: thrice D'Ambois plucked at it, and thrice drew on thrusts from Barrisor who darted hither and thither like flame, and continued thrusting as D'Ambois plucked; yet, incredible to relate, the latter escaped injury.

33, 90. only made more horrid with his wound: Barrisor being only rendered fiercer by his wound. The construction is loose, as grammatically the words should qualify D'Ambois.

33, 92. redoubled in his danger: thrusting himself into danger for the second time. For this peculiar use of redoubled cf. l. 190, "on my knees redoubled," and note.

33, 94. Arden. Probably to be no more identified here with the Warwickshire district of this name than in As You Like It. Ardennes would be more appropriate on a Frenchman's lips, but the district belongs to the realm of fancy as much as Armenia in l. 117.

33, 97. he gan to nodde. An anacoluthon. The construction should be "begin to nodde" after "I have seene an oke" in l. 94, but the intervening participial clauses produce irregularity. Similarily in l. 101 "he fell" should be "fall" and "hid" should be "hide."

33, 103-104. Of ten set . . . Navarre. The war between Henry III and Henry of Navarre continued from 1587 to 1589, but the "ten set battles" are without historical foundation.

34, 105. [Montsurry.] See note on stage direction at beginning of the scene.

34, 108. felt report: probably, account related with feeling.

34, 121. the treasure of his brow: his horn.

34, 122. shelter of a tree. Unicorns were supposed to be worsted in encounters by their adversaries sheltering behind trees, in which they impaled themselves. Spenser, F. Q. II, 5, 10, describes how a lion defeats a unicorn by this stratagem. Cf. Jul. Caes. II, 1, 303-04.

"He loves to hear That unicorns may be betray'd with trees."

34, 128. th' tw' other, i. e. Pyrrhot and Melynell.

35, 130. hunt Honour at the view. A rare metaphorical application of the technical phrase, "hunt at the view."

35. [Exit Nuntius.] The editor has inserted this, as the Qq do not indicate when the Nuncius departs, and, with the entrance of Bussy, there is no further need of him. bare: bareheaded.

35, 141-44. If ever Nature . . . one. Difficult lines, which may be paraphrased: if ever Nature's bond maintained its strength, when subjected to the severe test of bridging the distance between sovereign and subject, both sprung from the same seed, now prove that in elevated stations she can show her nobility.

36, 156. that, i. e. positive law.

36, 157. prefixing: settling beforehand.

36, 164. this fact, though of justice: this action, though done in the name of justice.

37, 170. he, i. e. his enemy.

37, 175-76. which . . . him: which is more precious than a human life, which is inferior in value to it, and which was rightly forfeited to him through ill-doing.

37, 190. This is a grace. The grace or boon for which Bussy asks is explained by him in ll. 193-203. "This" usually refers to something that has gone before, on my knees redoubled: going down for the second time on my knees—from which he had risen after l. 179.

37, 192. And shall, i. e. And which grace shall.

38, 198-204. Let me . . . King indeed. With this assertion of man's original "Kingship" cf. The Gentleman Usher, V, 1.

And what's a prince? Had all been virtuous men, There never had been prince upon the earth, And so no subject: all men had been princes. A virtuous man is subject to no prince, But to his soul and honour.

38. [Exit Rex cum Montsurry.] See note on stage direction at beginning of this scene.

40, 18. Although she be my ante. From these words we learn that Beaupre is niece to the Duke and Duchess of Guise. Compare III, ii, 188, and the reference to "my lady, your niece" in the passage in Qq 1607 and 1608 quoted in the textual note on III, ii, 233.

42, 49. an agent for my bloud: an instrument in the satisfaction of my passions.

42, 57-58. his retiring . . . aspiring: his retirement to a position of inferiority will satisfy my aspirations.

43, 70-71. Wise wives . . . friend. Tamyra ironically keeps up the metaphor of the "two strings" in l. 66, and plays upon the double senses of "firm" and "loose" in archery and morals.

44, 95. as good cheap as it: literally, on as advantageous terms as; hence, with as little effort as, as readily as.

45, 108-10. Whose there . . . quality. Cf. All Fools, II, 1, p. 67 (Phelps).

While I sit like a well-taught writing-woman Turning her eyes upon some work or picture, Read in a book, or take a feigned nap, While her kind lady takes one to her lap.

45, 117. oportunities: importunities, which Dilke wished to substitute. But "opportunity" was used in this sense. Cf. Mer. Wiv. Wind. III, 4, 20-2.

"Yet seeke my Fathers love, still seeke it, sir; If opportunity and humblest suite Cannot attain it, why then harke you hither."

45, 121-122. as to their pardons . . . Parliaments. The meaning appears to be: as the exceptions they make, after Parliaments have ceased to sit, are to the pardons they have granted.

46, 129. part'st with victory: comest off victoriously.

48, 165. the Center: the unmoved central point of the earth, according to the Ptolemaic system.

49, 182. cast . . . beene: undress, as if I had never been watching here. Tamyra here determines to go to bed, but afterwards (l. 242) she returns.

49, 198. the first orbe move. An allusion to the Primum Mobile, which, in the Ptolemaic system, was the tenth sphere "of a most pure and cleare substance and without starres," which revolved in twenty-four hours, and carried round in its course all the inner spheres.

51, 231-32. If not . . . satisfi'd: if she is not given opportunity to dissemble or show petulance, she is not satisfied even if she gains what she desires.

56, 20-30. Sin . . . troth. A characteristic illustration of how one simile in Chapman's verse begets another, with little regard for logical sequence. The "shadowes" with which sin frightens us are first compared to the imaginary creatures into which fancy shapes the clouds; then sin itself (relegated from an active to a passive part) is likened not to a pure creation of the fancy, but to an exaggerated picture of a real monster displayed by "policy," i. e. the craft which seeks to debar men from their desires.

For the custom of exhibiting a rude painting of a curiosity, as a decoy to sightseers, cf. The Tempest, II, 2, 29-31, "Were I in England now . . . and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver."

56, 21. in his truest valour: if his valour be rightly estimated.

56, 33. our three powers. The vegetative, sensitive and reasoning faculties.

56-57, 40-43. Nor shall . . . wings. Tamyra's "fame," which in l. 38 has been spoken of as a "jewell," is now likened to a fabulous winged creature which is accorded free flight.

57, 44. It rests as: the secret remains as inviolable as if.

58, 69-71. layes . . . oppos'd. I am indebted to Dr. J. A. H. Murray for the following interpretation of this passage: [Nature] brings our powers into accordance with its own will or working, just as the stone (laid by the builder) should be apposed or brought into accord with the line, not the line (which is straight and not to be shifted) made to lie along the stone.

60, 119. greatnesse with him: high place in his favour.

62, 13. Boots of hay-ropes. Bands of hay were sometimes wrapped round the legs, to serve instead of boots. Cf. Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour, I, 2. Step. But I have no boots . . . Brainworm. Why a fine wisp of hay roll'd hard, Master Stephen.

62, 18. a redhair'd man: a deceiver, traitor; so called from the representation of Judas in tapestries, and probably on the stage of the Miracle plays, with red hair.

63, 23. put them up: start them from their cover.

63, 28. That . . . clapdish: That keeps regal state, though sprung from beggary. A clapdish was a wooden dish with a lid, carried by beggars and lepers, which they clapped to announce their approach.

63, 46. Venting . . . Hebrew: putting the best product of his livings to the reverse of its intended use. Hebrew is read backwards.

65, 69. that popular purple. An allusion to the Duke's robe, which was of royal purple, to impress the populace.

65, 76. He's noblier borne. "Noblier" has been here substituted for "nobly." The parallel phrases in the preceding lines are all comparatives, "better," "more," "greater," and Bussy, in the second half of this line, cannot mean to deny that Guise is of noble birth.

65, 79. Cardinall of Ambois. The Cardinal Georges d'Amboise was in reality Bussy's great-uncle.

66, 84. great in faction: active in promoting leagues.

66, 86-87. Be a duke . . . field. A play, of course, on the original meaning of Duke, as Dux or leader.

67, 108. the Hermean rod: the caduceus or rod of Hermes, with which he parted two fighting serpents, whereupon they embraced and stuck to the rod.

69, 144-47. and as this . . . pride. An allusion to the myth of the giant Typhoeus who, according to one version, was created by Hera alone, in anger at the birth of Pallas from the head of Zeus. He was killed by Zeus with a flash of lighting, and was buried in Tartarus under Mt. Etna.

69, 154. make scapes to please advantage: commit escapades, and thereby give points against themselves.

69, 155-56. women . . . candels: women who make the worst accomplices to men.

70, 157. their women: their waiting-women.

71, 187-88. as far as an unkle may. Guise is uncle to the lady Beaupre. Cf. note on II, 2, 18.

74, 243-44. Come . . . courted. These words are whispered by Monsieur to Pero. The rest of his speech is spoken aloud as if in disgust at the rejection of advances made by him to Pero.

74, 244. dry palm: a sign of chastity.

77, 311. I have the blind side of: I can play on the weakness of.

78, 325. engag'd in some sure plot: involved in the toils of some plot securely laid against him.

78, 330. Train . . . wreak: allure D'Ambois within reach of his revenge.

80, 375. angell of my life: an allusion to the tutelary genius. For a similar use of angel cf. Ant. and Cleop. II, 3, 21.

81, 383. rais'd without a circle. If a necromancer, before raising a spirit, drew a circle within which he stood, he was secure against its power.

82, 406. which I have still in thought: which is always with me, as far as my thoughts are concerned.

84, 445-46. to force . . . estates. With the punctuation adopted And . . . throats is a clause parenthetically inserted in the main statement, and the meaning is: to get possession of estates by foreclosing mortgages, and thus destroying their owners. The Qq have a comma after possessions, and no brackets in the following line.

84-85, 448-49. quarrell . . . Ajax. A reference to the well-known episode in Sophocles' Ajax.

85, 453. make them of a peece: make them complete.

85, 464-66. which not to sooth . . . Thou eat'st. An anacoluthon.

85, 465. And glorifie . . . Hammon. Probably an allusion to the adoration of Alexander the Great as the son of Jupiter Ammon by the priests of this originally AEthiopian deity, at Thebes in Upper Egypt, in B. C. 331.

86, 473. like a scrich-owle sing. The screech of the owl was supposed to be an omen of death to the hearer. Cf. Macbeth, II, 2, 3-4.

87, 500. to that wall: at the distance of that wall.

87, 507. her breathing rock. Dilke explains this as "the distaff from whence she draws the thread of life," but though this is evidently the meaning required, it is difficult to extract it from this obscure phrase.

87, 510. Defil'd . . . soule. Another instance of confused imagery, which yields no satisfactory meaning.

89, 28. which, sc. time.

90, 35. princely mistresse: the Duchess of Guise.

90, 39. Your servant: D'Ambois.

90, 52. in high formes: on stools of disgrace.

91, 55. great eagles beak. Cf. III, 2, 4.

91, 57. her . . . liver. A double allusion, as Dilke has pointed out, to the story of Prometheus, and to the conception of the liver as the seat of the emotions.

92, 77. with a traine: by a stratagem.

93, 84. gushing. Used here transitively, qualifying laws, and governing blood.

93, 87. bare . . . hammes: the uncovered heads and cringing postures of sycophants.

93, 98. Armenian dragons. Chapman is fond of locating fabulous monsters in Armenia. Cf. II, 1, 118-19.

94, 115. almighty AEther. Probably a reminiscence of Virgil, Georg. 2, 325, pater omnipotens AEther.

94, 120. Nay, they are two. Monsieur, while saying this, makes two horns with his fingers.

95, 126. a meere Cynthia: a perfect moon-goddess.

96, 138. The plague of Herod. Cf. Acts XII, 23, "And he was eaten of worms, and gave up the ghost."

98, 180. thus, with his fingers. Cf. note on l. 120.

98, 181-83. comes . . . slew: if he is the source of the blot on my honour, it becomes a beauty, not a blemish, and proves that I posses the same innocence that caused the death of.

98, 183. Chymaera. A fire-breathing monster, brought up by Amisodarus, King of Caria. She was slain by Bellerophon. This Corinthian prince, to purify himself from a murder he had committed, had fled to the court of Proetus of Argos, whose wife, Anteia, fell in love with him. On his rejection of her advances, she made false accusations against him, whereupon Proetus sent him to his father-in-law, Iobates, King of Lycia, with a sealed letter, requesting him to put him to death. Iobates sent him to kill Chimaera, thinking he would be certain to perish in the attempt. But mounted on the winged horse Pegasus, he killed her from on high with his arrows.

98, 183-84. rescued . . . Peleon. Peleus, King of the Myrmidons, during a visit to Iolcus, attracted the love of Astydameia, the wife of Acastus. On his rejection of her proposals, she denounced him falsely to her husband, who took him to hunt wild beasts on Mount Peleon, and when he fell asleep through fatigue, concealed his sword, and left him alone to be devoured. But he was saved by Cheiron, who restored him his sword.

98, 185. the chaste Athenian prince: Hippolytus, son of Theseus and Hippolyta, with whom his step-mother Phaedra fell in love. On his rejection of her advances, she accused him to Theseus, at whose prayer Poseidon caused his destruction, by frightening his horses, when he was driving along the seacoast, and overturning his chariot. Afterwards, on the discovery of his innocence, Asclepius restored him to the upper world.

98, 187. Egean. So the Qq, instead of "Augean."

98, 190. where thou fear'st, are dreadfull: inspirest terror even in those of whom thou art afraid.

98-99, 192-94. the serpent . . . and me. A curious application of the legend of armed men springing from the dragon's teeth sown by Jason.

99, 204. feares his owne hand: is afraid of the consequences of his own handwriting.

99, 205-208. papers hold . . . honors: written documents often contain the revelation of our true selves, and, though of no material value, put the crown to our reputations.

99-100, 209-210. and with . . . knowes: and compare with its contents the evidence of this my most intimate attendant.

101, 6. trails hotly of him: is hot upon his scent. Him apparently refers to mischiefe in l. 4.

102, 25. With . . . affrighted: by which all things capable of terror are frightened.

103, 32. Epimethean. Epimetheus, the brother of Prometheus, opened Pandora's box, and let its evils loose among mankind.

103, 37-38. Or stood . . . artillerie. In the war of Zeus against Cronos, the Cyclopes aided the former, who had released them from Tartarus, by furnishing him with thunderbolts.

103, 47-48. I will . . . spirit: I will command a spirit, raised by my art, to enlighten us.

104, 54. Behemoth. The editor has been unable to find any precedent for Chapman's application of this name—which in the Book of Job denotes the whale or hippopotamus—to the chief of the powers of darkness.

104, 55. Asaroth. Apparently a variant of Ashtaroth, the plural of Ashtoreth, the Phoenician moon-goddess; here mistakenly used for the name of a male spirit.

104. Cartophylax. A post-classical Greek term for "guardian of papers."

106, 97. great in our command: powerful in exercising command over us.

107-109, 113-51. There is . . . his soule. The dialogue and action here take place probably at the back of the stage, perhaps on the upper stage, of which use is made in The Tempest, the Spanish Tragedie, and other plays. The characters (as is evident from ll. 102-104) are supposed to be far off, but rendered visible and audible to Tamyra and D'Ambois by Behemoth's power.

107, 113. a glasse of ink: a mirror made of ink, i. e. the paper with the proofs of Tamyra's unfaithfulness.

107, 116. fames sepulchres: the foulness beneath which her good name is buried.

107, 120-21. were . . . rarely: were it never so uncommon, bear it with as unexampled courage.

109, 156. In her forc'd bloud. Dilke is followed in the substitution of her for his. The allusion is evidently to the letter that Tamyra afterwards writes to D'Ambois in her own blood. Cf. V, 1, 176-77.

110, 169-70. Lest . . . abuse: lest a furious outburst due to your foreknowledge of the plot against us.

111, 185. And . . . policy: and the Monsieur's stratagems shall be taken in the flank by my own.

111, 186. Center. Here and in l. 192 this word, though strictly meaning the central point of the earth, seems used for the earth itself, as the centre of the universe. For this use cf. Shaks. Tro. and Cress. I, 3, 85-86.

"The heavens themselves, the planets, and this center Observe degree, priority, and place."

111, 191. calme . . . ruine: unsuspecting tranquillity previous to a convulsion of the elements.

113, 17-18. The stony . . . sleeper. The thunderstone, or thunderbolt, was supposed to have no power of harming any one who was asleep, or who wore laurel leaves. Leigh, in his Observations on the First Twelve Caesars (1647), p. 43, says of Tiberius that "he feared thunder exceedingly, and when the aire or weather was any thing troubled, he even carried a chaplet or wreath of laurell about his neck, because that as (Pliny reporteth) is never blasted with lightning."

114, 50. determinate: apparently used in the sense of final, though the sense is rare, except as qualifying a word which implies previous deliberation.

115, 55-56. preventing . . . death: anticipating the last blast that is to kill those who live, and to give life anew to the dead.

115, 64. Fame growes in going. Borrowed from the AEneid, IV, 173-75, Fama . . . viresque acquirit eundo.

115, 67-68. come . . . lust. The syren is Tamyra; her song the letter she is to write to her lover (cf. l. 75); Montsurry; band of murderers the fatal rocks; and the ruffin gally, D'Ambois.

115, 69-71. the nets . . . danc'd. There is a play here upon nets in the sense of wiles, and in its usual signification. To "dance," or "march," or "hide" in a net was to delude oneself that one was acting secretly (cf. Henry V, I, 4, 173, and Span. Trag. IV, 4, 118).

116, 84. for all: in spite of all.

116, 86. their should be, in grammatical sequence, "her," referring to "a womans" in 83.

116, 91. nor in humane consort: nor do they find human fellowship. The metaphor of the wildernesse is still being carried on.

118, 128-30. Where . . . cruelty: in the same quarter [i. e. your person] where all these bonds have been violated, they are preserved by the infliction of just punishment, with some exhibition of the same quintessence of cruelty that you have shown me.

118, 142. Thus I expresse thee yet: thus I give a further stroke to my delineation of thee.

118, 143. thy . . . yet: the image of thy unnatural depravity is not yet fully completed.

118, 145. This other engine: the rack, on which Montsurry's servants place Tamyra. Cf. l. 157, "O let me downe, my lord."

119, 151-52. O who . . . None but my lord and husband. Tamyra thinks that some evil spirit has taken her husband's shape, and cries to Montsurry to appear and deliver her.

119, 161. Now . . . stands still. This statement of the leading principle of the Copernican system, as a mere rhetorical paradox, is remarkable.

119-120, 163-72. The too huge . . . with hypocrisie. In this curious passage the earth is conceived of as a recumbent figure, which usually lies face upwards to the sky. But the weight of her sins has caused her to roll over, so that her back part now braves heaven, while her face is turned to the Antipodes; and all the deceitful appearances which she has adopted through her cheating arts have come out in their true nature on her back, so that her hypocrisy stands revealed.

120, 178. he: the Friar.

120, 181. his. We should expect a repetition of her in l. 180. His, however seems to be equivalent to man's, anticipating man in l. 182. Possibly we should read this.

121, 191. In, Ile after. These words are addressed to the body of the Friar.

122, 20. with terror: inspiring terror in their enemies.

123, 28. And . . . man: And consider it, though left headless, as a completely formed man.

123, 36. vertuous treasurie: stock of virtues.

124, 46-53. Not so . . . mens hate. An adaptation of Seneca's Agamemnon, 64-72:

Non sic Libycis Syrtibus aequor Furit alternos volvere fluctus, Non Euxini turget ab imis Commota vadis unda, nivali Vicina polo; Ubi, caeruleis immunis aquis, Lucida versat plaustra Bootes, Ut praecipites regum casus Fortuna rotat.

These lines, with those immediately before and after, are more loosely adapted in Kyd's Spanish Tragedie, III, 1, 1-11.

126, 23. this embodied shadow: this spirit while it had bodily form.

126, 24-27. With reminiscion . . . of art. Cf. IV, 2, 158-61.

127, 41-53. Terror of darknesse . . . greater light. After Bussy's statement in ll. 29-32 we should expect him to immediately summon the Prince of darknesse, Behemoth. But ll. 41-46 are apparently addressed to the sun-god, who is invoked to put to flight night and mystery. Then as an alternative, in ll. 47-53, Behemoth, to whom darkness is as light, is bidden appear. Dilke substitutes oh for or (the reading of all Qq) at the beginning of l. 47. If this change be right, the invocation commences at this line, and ll. 41-46 are merely a preliminary rhetorical appeal for more illumination. But in this case there is an incongruity between such an appeal and the summoning of the Prince of shades, who sees best where darkness is thickest. Lamb in his Specimens retains the reading of the Qq, and says of the passage: "This calling upon Light and Darkness for information, but, above all, the description of the spirit—'threw his changed countenance headlong into clouds'—is tremendous, to the curdling of the blood. I know nothing in poetry like it."

130, 103. all the signes: i. e. of the Zodiac.

131. Intrat Umbra Frier . . . Tamyra. The Ghost of the Friar enters and discovers, i. e. reveals to view, Tamyra, who since the close of V, 1, has remained wrapped in the arras, or, as the variant stage direction in A here puts it, wrapt in a canapie.

131, 9. before he be revenged: before vengeance is taken on him. The reading of A, engaged, is perhaps (as Dilke suggests) preferable.

133, 27-28. what . . . D'Amboys: what bugbear, such as this, is not afraid to visit D'Amboys, even in his sleep?

134, 45. Will . . . here? D'Ambois's sword fails to pierce the privy coat worn by the murderer. Cf. V, 2, 57.

134, 52. That . . . resembled: That was a successful artifice, and a skilful impersonation.

135, 65. enforce the spot: emphasize the stain on your honour.

136, 82. Then . . . fact: then these teachers of divinity deal with figments, not with realities.

136, 83-84. Man . . . servant: Man consists of two attached friends, the body and the mind, of which the latter is swayed by the former, as a lover by his mistress.

136, 90-93. And if Vespasian . . . groomes. Cf. Suetonius, Life of Vespasian, Ch. 24. Hic, quum super urgentem valetudinem creberrimo frigidae aquae usu etiam intestina vitiasset, nec eo minus muneribus imperatoriis ex consuetudine fungeretur, ut etiam legationes audiret cubans, alvo repente usque ad defectionem soluta, Imperatorem, ait, stantem mori oportere. Dumque consurgit, ac nititur, inter manus sublevantium exstinctus est.

137, 100-108. And haste . . . dwellers. An adaptation of Seneca, Her. Oet. 1518-1526:

O decus mundi, radiate Titan, Cujus ad primos Hecate vapores Lassa nocturnae levat ora bigae, Dic sub Aurora positis Sabaeis, Dic sub Occasu positis Iberis, Quique ferventi quatiuntur axe, Quique sub plaustro patiuntur Ursae; Dic ad aeternos, properare Manes Herculem.

137, 110-111. may . . . funerall: may celebrate fittingly my unworthy end with such a funeral volley as it deserves.

138, 135-40. My sunne . . . bloud. In these lines the killing spectacle, the prodigie, of l. 134, and its effect are described. Tamyra, the light of D'Ambois's life, with her reddened bosom and hands, is likened to a sun whose beams have turned to blood. So far the imagery is clear, but it is difficult to extract a satisfactory sense from what follows. What do Pindus and Ossa symbolize, and what exactly does their melting mean? This seems one of the few passages in the play which really deserve Dryden's stricture for "looseness of expression and gross hyperboles."

139, 146. struck. The Qq, and all editors, read stuck, but the word seems inapplicable to a thunderbolt. The editor has conjectured struck, which, with a minimum of change, gives the sense required.

139, 149 Joine flames with Hercules. Here the quartos of 1607 and 1608 contain the right reading. D'Ambois, who has met death in the spirit of Hercules (cf. ll. 100-108), is now to share his translation to the skies. For the description of Hercules as a star see Seneca, Her. Oet. 1564-1581.

142, 211-14 as . . . dies. The reference is to the wax in the taper, which retains in its savour the mark of its origin in the hive, till transient as life, it glances with the eye of a flame, and, so doing, expires.



THE TEXT

The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois was printed in quarto in 1613 by T. S. for John Helme. No reprint appeared till 1873, when it was included in the edition of Chapman's Tragedies and Comedies published by J. Pearson. The text of the quarto was reproduced, with the original spelling and punctuation, but with a few errors. There have been two later editions in modernized spelling, and with slight emendations, by R. H. Shepherd in 1874, and W. L. Phelps in 1895.

In the present edition the text of the quarto has been reproduced, with some additional emendations, and the original spelling has been retained. As regards punctuation, the use of capital letters and italics, and the division of the Acts into Scenes, the same methods have been followed as in the case of Bussy D'Ambois.



THE REVENGE OF Bussy D'Ambois.

A TRAGEDIE

As it hath beene often presented at the priuate Play-house in the White Fryers.

Written By GEORGE CHAPMAN, Gentleman.



LONDON:

Printed by T. S. and are to be solde by IOHN HELME, at his Shop in S. Dunstones Church-Yard, in Fleetstreet. 1613.



SOURCES

The story of a plot by Bussy D'Ambois's kinsfolk to avenge his murder is, in the main, of Chapman's own invention. But he had evidently read an account similar to that given later by De Thou of the design entertained for a time by Bussy's sister Renee (whom Chapman calls Charlotte) and her husband, Baligny, to take vengeance on Montsurry. Clermont D'Ambois is himself a fictitious character, but the episodes in which he appears in Acts II-IV are drawn from the account of the treacherous proceedings against the Count d'Auvergne in Edward Grimeston's translation of Jean de Serres's Inventaire General de l'Histoire de France. This narrative, however, is not by De Serres, but by Pierre Matthieu, whose Histoire de France was one of the sources used by Grimeston for events later than 1598.