Hen. Showes he to others thus?

Omnes. To all that know him.

Hen. And apprehend I this man for a traitor?

Gui. These are your Machevilian villaines, Your bastard Teucers, that, their mischiefes done, 50 Runne to your shield for shelter; Cacusses That cut their too large murtherous theveries To their dens length still. Woe be to that state Where treacherie guards, and ruine makes men great!

Hen. Goe, take my letters for him, and release him. 55

Om. Thankes to your Highnesse; ever live your Highnesse! Exeunt.

Baligny. Better a man were buried quicke then live A propertie for state and spoile to thrive. Exit.

LINENOTES:

Aversus. In left margin in Q.

51 Cacusses. Ed.; Q, Caucusses.

[SCAENA QUINTA.

A Country Road, between Cambrai and Paris.]

Enter Clermont, Mail[lard], Chal[on] with Souldiers.

Maillard. Wee joy you take a chance so ill, so well.

Clermont. Who ever saw me differ in acceptance Of eyther fortune?

Chalon. What, love bad like good! How should one learne that?

Cler. To love nothing outward, Or not within our owne powers to command; 5 And so being sure of every thing we love, Who cares to lose the rest? if any man Would neyther live nor dye in his free choise, But as hee sees necessitie will have it (Which if hee would resist, he strives in vaine) 10 What can come neere him that hee doth not well? And if in worst events his will be done, How can the best be better? all is one.

Mail. Me thinkes tis prettie.

Cler. Put no difference If you have this, or not this; but as children 15 Playing at coites ever regard their game, And care not for their coites, so let a man The things themselves that touch him not esteeme, But his free power in well disposing them.

Chal. Prettie, from toyes!

Cler. Me thinkes this double disticke 20 Seemes prettily too to stay superfluous longings: "Not to have want, what riches doth exceede? Not to be subject, what superiour thing? He that to nought aspires, doth nothing neede; Who breakes no law is subject to no King." 25

Mail. This goes to mine eare well, I promise you.

Chal. O, but tis passing hard to stay one thus.

Cler. Tis so; rancke custome raps men so beyond it. And as tis hard so well mens dores to barre To keepe the cat out and th'adulterer: 30 So tis as hard to curbe affections so Wee let in nought to make them over-flow. And as of Homers verses, many critickes On those stand of which times old moth hath eaten The first or last feete, and the perfect parts 35 Of his unmatched poeme sinke beneath, With upright gasping and sloath dull as death: So the unprofitable things of life, And those we cannot compasse, we affect; All that doth profit and wee have, neglect, 40 Like covetous and basely getting men That, gathering much, use never what they keepe; But for the least they loose, extreamely weepe.

Mail. This prettie talking, and our horses walking Downe this steepe hill, spends time with equall profit. 45

Cler. Tis well bestow'd on ye; meate and men sicke Agree like this and you: and yet even this Is th'end of all skill, power, wealth, all that is.

Chal. I long to heare, sir, how your mistresse takes this.

Enter Aumal with a cabinet.

Mail. Wee soone shall know it; see Aumall return'd. 50

Aumale. Ease to your bands, sir!

Cler. Welcome, worthy friend!

Chal. How tooke his noblest mistresse your sad message?

Aum. As great rich men take sodaine povertie. I never witness'd a more noble love, Nor a more ruthfull sorrow: I well wisht 55 Some other had beene master of my message.

Mail. Y'are happy, sir, in all things, but this one Of your unhappy apprehension.

Cler. This is to mee, compar'd with her much mone, As one teare is to her whole passion. 60

Aum. Sir, shee commends her kindest service to you, And this rich cabinet.

Chal. O happy man! This may enough hold to redeeme your bands.

Cler. These clouds, I doubt not, will be soone blowne over.

Enter Baligny, with his discharge: Renel, and others.

Aum. Your hope is just and happy; see, sir, both 65 In both the looks of these.

Baligny. Here's a discharge For this your prisoner, my good Lord Lieutenant.

Mail. Alas, sir, I usurpe that stile, enforc't, And hope you know it was not my aspiring.

Bal. Well, sir, my wrong aspir'd past all mens hopes. 70

Mail. I sorrow for it, sir.

Renel. You see, sir, there Your prisoners discharge autenticall.

Mail. It is, sir, and I yeeld it him with gladnesse.

Bal. Brother, I brought you downe to much good purpose.

Cler. Repeate not that, sir; the amends makes all. 75

Ren. I joy in it, my best and worthiest friend; O, y'have a princely fautor of the Guise.

Bal. I thinke I did my part to.

Ren. Well, sir, all Is in the issue well: and (worthiest friend) Here's from your friend, the Guise; here from the Countesse, 80 Your brothers mistresse, the contents whereof I know, and must prepare you now to please Th'unrested spirit of your slaughtered brother, If it be true, as you imagin'd once, His apparition show'd it. The complot 85 Is now laid sure betwixt us; therefore haste Both to your great friend (who hath some use waightie For your repaire to him) and to the Countesse, Whose satisfaction is no lesse important.

Cler. I see all, and will haste as it importeth. 90 And good friend, since I must delay a little My wisht attendance on my noblest mistresse, Excuse me to her, with returne of this, And endlesse protestation of my service; And now become as glad a messenger, 95 As you were late a wofull.

Aum. Happy change! I ever will salute thee with my service. Exit.

Bal. Yet more newes, brother; the late jesting Monsieur Makes now your brothers dying prophesie equall At all parts, being dead as he presag'd. 100

Ren. Heaven shield the Guise from seconding that truth With what he likewise prophesied on him!

Cler. It hath enough, twas grac'd with truth in one; To'th other falshood and confusion! Leade to the Court, sir.

Bal. You Ile leade no more; 105 It was to ominous and foule before. Exeunt.

Finis Actus quarti.

LINENOTES:

105 to the. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, to'th.



ACTUS QUINTI SCAENA PRIMA.

[A Room in the Palace of the Duke of Guise.]

Ascendit Umbra Bussi.

Umbra Bussi. Up from the chaos of eternall night (To which the whole digestion of the world Is now returning) once more I ascend, And bide the cold dampe of this piercing ayre, To urge the justice whose almightie word 5 Measures the bloudy acts of impious men With equall pennance, who in th'act it selfe Includes th'infliction, which like chained shot Batter together still; though (as the thunder Seemes, by mens duller hearing then their sight, 10 To breake a great time after lightning forth, Yet both at one time teare the labouring cloud) So men thinke pennance of their ils is slow, Though th'ill and pennance still together goe. Reforme, yee ignorant men, your manlesse lives 15 Whose lawes yee thinke are nothing but your lusts; When leaving (but for supposition sake) The body of felicitie, religion, Set in the midst of Christendome, and her head Cleft to her bosome, one halfe one way swaying, 20 Another th'other, all the Christian world And all her lawes whose observation Stands upon faith, above the power of reason— Leaving (I say) all these, this might suffice To fray yee from your vicious swindge in ill 25 And set you more on fire to doe more good; That since the world (as which of you denies?) Stands by proportion, all may thence conclude That all the joynts and nerves sustaining nature As well may breake, and yet the world abide, 30 As any one good unrewarded die, Or any one ill scape his penaltie. The Ghost stands close.

Enter Guise, Clermont.

Guise. Thus (friend) thou seest how all good men would thrive, Did not the good thou prompt'st me with prevent The jealous ill pursuing them in others. 35 But now thy dangers are dispatcht, note mine. Hast thou not heard of that admired voyce That at the barricadoes spake to mee, (No person seene) "Let's leade my lord to Reimes"?

Clermont. Nor could you learne the person?

Gui. By no meanes. 40

Cler. Twas but your fancie, then, a waking dreame: For as in sleepe, which bindes both th'outward senses And the sense common to, th'imagining power (Stird up by formes hid in the memories store, Or by the vapours of o'er-flowing humours 45 In bodies full and foule, and mixt with spirits) Faines many strange, miraculous images, In which act it so painfully applyes It selfe to those formes that the common sense It actuates with his motion, and thereby 50 Those fictions true seeme and have reall act: So, in the strength of our conceits awake, The cause alike doth [oft] like fictions make.

Gui. Be what it will, twas a presage of something Waightie and secret, which th'advertisements 55 I have receiv'd from all parts, both without And in this kingdome, as from Rome and Spaine, Lorraine and Savoye, gives me cause to thinke, All writing that our plots catastrophe, For propagation of the Catholique cause, 60 Will bloudy prove, dissolving all our counsailes.

Cler. Retyre, then, from them all.

Gui. I must not doe so. The Arch-Bishop of Lyons tels me plaine I shall be said then to abandon France In so important an occasion; 65 And that mine enemies (their profit making Of my faint absence) soone would let that fall, That all my paines did to this height exhale.

Cler. Let all fall that would rise unlawfully! Make not your forward spirit in vertues right 70 A property for vice, by thrusting on Further then all your powers can fetch you off. It is enough, your will is infinite To all things vertuous and religious, Which, within limits kept, may without danger 75 Let vertue some good from your graces gather. Avarice of all is ever nothings father.

Umb. Danger (the spurre of all great mindes) is ever The curbe to your tame spirits; you respect not (With all your holinesse of life and learning) 80 More then the present, like illiterate vulgars; Your minde (you say) kept in your fleshes bounds Showes that mans will must rul'd be by his power: When by true doctrine you are taught to live Rather without the body then within, 85 And rather to your God still then your selfe. To live to Him is to doe all things fitting His image in which like Himselfe we live; To be His image is to doe those things That make us deathlesse, which by death is onely 90 Doing those deedes that fit eternitie; And those deedes are the perfecting that justice That makes the world last, which proportion is Of punishment and wreake for every wrong, As well as for right a reward as strong: 95 Away, then! use the meanes thou hast to right The wrong I suffer'd. What corrupted law Leaves unperform'd in Kings, doe thou supply, And be above them all in dignitie. Exit.

Gui. Why stand'st thou still thus, and applyest thine eares 100 And eyes to nothing?

Cler. Saw you nothing here?

Gui. Thou dream'st awake now; what was here to see?

Cler. My brothers spirit, urging his revenge.

Gui. Thy brothers spirit! pray thee mocke me not.

Cler. No, by my love and service.

Gui. Would he rise, 105 And not be thundring threates against the Guise?

Cler. You make amends for enmitie to him, With tenne parts more love and desert of mee; And as you make your hate to him no let Of any love to mee, no more beares hee 110 (Since you to me supply it) hate to you. Which reason and which justice is perform'd In spirits tenne parts more then fleshy men; To whose fore-sights our acts and thoughts lie open: And therefore, since hee saw the treacherie 115 Late practis'd by my brother Baligny, Hee would not honor his hand with the justice (As hee esteemes it) of his blouds revenge, To which my sister needes would have him sworne, Before she would consent to marry him. 120

Gui. O Baligny!—who would beleeve there were A man that (onely since his lookes are rais'd Upwards, and have but sacred heaven in sight) Could beare a minde so more then divellish? As for the painted glory of the countenance, 125 Flitting in Kings, doth good for nought esteeme, And the more ill hee does, the better seeme.

Cler. Wee easily may beleeve it, since we see In this worlds practise few men better be. Justice to live doth nought but justice neede, 130 But policie must still on mischiefe feede. Untruth, for all his ends, truths name doth sue in; None safely live but those that study ruine. A good man happy is a common good; Ill men advanc'd live of the common bloud. 135

Gui. But this thy brothers spirit startles mee, These spirits seld or never hanting men But some mishap ensues.

Cler. Ensue what can; Tyrants may kill but never hurt a man; All to his good makes, spight of death and hell. 140

Enter Aumall.

Aumale. All the desert of good renowne your Highnesse!

Gui. Welcome, Aumall!

Cler. My good friend, friendly welcome! How tooke my noblest mistresse the chang'd newes?

Aum. It came too late sir, for those loveliest eyes (Through which a soule look't so divinely loving, 145 Teares nothing uttering her distresse enough) She wept quite out, and, like two falling starres, Their dearest sights quite vanisht with her teares.

Cler. All good forbid it!

Gui. What events are these!

Cler. All must be borne, my lord; and yet this chance 150 Would willingly enforce a man to cast off All power to beare with comfort, since hee sees In this our comforts made our miseries.

Gui. How strangely thou art lov'd of both the sexes; Yet thou lov'st neyther, but the good of both. 155

Cler. In love of women my affection first Takes fire out of the fraile parts of my bloud; Which, till I have enjoy'd, is passionate Like other lovers; but, fruition past, I then love out of judgement, the desert 160 Of her I love still sticking in my heart, Though the desire and the delight be gone, Which must chance still, since the comparison Made upon tryall twixt what reason loves, And what affection, makes in mee the best 165 Ever preferd, what most love, valuing lest.

Gui. Thy love being judgement then, and of the minde, Marry thy worthiest mistresse now being blinde.

Cler. If there were love in mariage, so I would; But I denie that any man doth love, 170 Affecting wives, maides, widowes, any women: For neither flyes love milke, although they drowne In greedy search thereof; nor doth the bee Love honey, though the labour of her life Is spent in gathering it; nor those that fat 175 On beasts, or fowles, doe any thing therein For any love: for as when onely nature Moves men to meate, as farre as her power rules, Shee doth it with a temperate appetite, The too much men devoure abhorring nature, 180 And in our most health is our most disease: So, when humanitie rules men and women, Tis for societie confinde in reason. But what excites the beds desire in bloud, By no meanes justly can be construed love; 185 For when love kindles any knowing spirit, It ends in vertue and effects divine, And is in friendship chaste and masculine.

Gui. Thou shalt my mistresse be; me thinkes my bloud Is taken up to all love with thy vertues. 190 And howsoever other men despise These paradoxes strange and too precise, Since they hold on the right way of our reason, I could attend them ever. Come, away; Performe thy brothers thus importun'd wreake; 195 And I will see what great affaires the King Hath to employ my counsell which he seemes Much to desire, and more and more esteemes. Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

53 doth oft like. Emended by ed.; Q, doth of like.

58 Lorraine. Emended by ed.; Q, Soccaine; see note on 55-61.

90 Repunctuated by ed.; Q has (;) at the end of the line.

141 All . . . renowne. Q, All the desert of good, renowne your Highnesse.

176 On. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Or.

[SCAENA SECUNDA.

A Room at the Court.]

Enter Henry, Baligny, with sixe of the guard.

Henry. Saw you his sawcie forcing of my hand To D'Ambois freedome?

Baligny. Saw, and through mine eyes Let fire into my heart, that burn'd to beare An insolence so giantly austere.

Hen. The more Kings beare at subjects hands, the more 5 Their lingring justice gathers; that resembles The waightie and the goodly-bodied eagle, Who (being on earth) before her shady wings Can raise her into ayre, a mightie way Close by the ground she runnes; but being aloft, 10 All shee commands, she flyes at; and the more Death in her seres beares, the more time shee stayes Her thundry stoope from that on which shee preyes.

Bal. You must be then more secret in the waight Of these your shadie counsels, who will else 15 Beare (where such sparkes flye as the Guise and D'Ambois) Pouder about them. Counsels (as your entrailes) Should be unpierst and sound kept; for not those Whom you discover you neglect; but ope A ruinous passage to your owne best hope. 20

Hen. Wee have spies set on us, as we on others; And therefore they that serve us must excuse us, If what wee most hold in our hearts take winde; Deceit hath eyes that see into the minde. But this plot shall be quicker then their twinckling, 25 On whose lids Fate with her dead waight shall lie, And confidence that lightens ere she die. Friends of my Guard, as yee gave othe to be True to your Soveraigne, keepe it manfully. Your eyes have witnest oft th'ambition 30 That never made accesse to me in Guise But treason ever sparkled in his eyes; Which if you free us of, our safetie shall You not our subjects but our patrons call.

Omnes. Our duties binde us; hee is now but dead. 35

Hen. Wee trust in it, and thanke ye. Baligny, Goe lodge their ambush, and thou God, that art Fautor of princes, thunder from the skies Beneath his hill of pride this gyant Guise. Exeunt.

[SCAENA TERTIA.

A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Enter Tamyra with a letter, Charlotte in mans attire.

Tamyra. I see y'are servant, sir, to my deare sister, The lady of her loved Baligny.

Charlotte. Madame, I am bound to her vertuous bounties For that life which I offer, in her service, To the revenge of her renowned brother. 5

Tam. She writes to mee as much, and much desires That you may be the man, whose spirit shee knowes Will cut short off these long and dull delayes Hitherto bribing the eternall Justice: Which I beleeve, since her unmatched spirit 10 Can judge of spirits that have her sulphure in them. But I must tell you that I make no doubt Her living brother will revenge her dead, On whom the dead impos'd the taske, and hee, I know, will come t'effect it instantly. 15

Char. They are but words in him; beleeve them not.

Tam. See; this is the vault where he must enter; Where now I thinke hee is.

Enter Renel at the vault, with the Countesse being blinde.

Renel. God save you, lady! What gentleman is this, with whom you trust The deadly waightie secret of this houre? 20

Tam. One that your selfe will say I well may trust.

Ren. Then come up, madame. He helps the Countesse up. See here, honour'd lady, A Countesse that in loves mishap doth equall At all parts your wrong'd selfe, and is the mistresse Of your slaine servants brother; in whose love, 25 For his late treachrous apprehension, She wept her faire eyes from her ivory browes, And would have wept her soule out, had not I Promist to bring her to this mortall quarrie, That by her lost eyes for her servants love 30 She might conjure him from this sterne attempt, In which (by a most ominous dreame shee had) Shee knowes his death fixt, and that never more Out of this place the sunne shall see him live.

Char. I am provided, then, to take his place 35 And undertaking on me.

Ren. You sir, why?

Char. Since I am charg'd so by my mistresse, His mournfull sister.

Tam. See her letter, sir. Hee reades. Good madame, I rue your fate more then mine, And know not how to order these affaires, 40 They stand on such occurrents.

Ren. This, indeede, I know to be your lady mistresse hand; And know besides, his brother will and must Indure no hand in this revenge but his.

Enter Umbr[a] Bussy.

Umbra. Away, dispute no more; get up, and see! 45 Clermont must auchthor this just tragedie.

Coun. Who's that?

Ren. The spirit of Bussy.

Tam. O my servant! Let us embrace.

Umb. Forbeare! The ayre, in which My figures liknesse is imprest, will blast. Let my revenge for all loves satisfie, 50 In which, dame, feare not, Clermont shall not dye. No word dispute more; up, and see th'event. Exeunt Ladyes. Make the guard sure, Renel; and then the doores Command to make fast, when the Earle is in. Exit Ren[el]. The blacke soft-footed houre is now on wing, 55 Which, for my just wreake, ghosts shall celebrate With dances dire and of infernall state. Exit.

LINENOTES:

2 loved. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, lou'd.

4 her service. Ed.; Q, her vertuous service; vertuous, which is obviously hypermetrical, has been repeated by mistake from the previous line.

47-48. Three lines in Q, broken at Bussy, embrace, which.

[SCAENA QUARTA.

An Ante-room to the Council-Chamber.]

Enter Guise.

Guise. Who sayes that death is naturall, when nature Is with the onely thought of it dismaid? I have had lotteries set up for my death, And I have drawne beneath my trencher one, Knit in my hand-kerchiefe another lot, 5 The word being, "Y'are a dead man if you enter"; And these words this imperfect bloud and flesh Shrincke at in spight of me, their solidst part Melting like snow within mee with colde fire. I hate my selfe, that, seeking to rule Kings, 10 I cannot curbe my slave. Would any spirit Free, manly, princely, wish to live to be Commanded by this masse of slaverie, Since reason, judgement, resolution, And scorne of what we feare, will yeeld to feare? 15 While this same sincke of sensualitie swels, Who would live sinking in it? and not spring Up to the starres, and leave this carrion here, For wolfes, and vultures, and for dogges to teare? O Clermont D'Ambois, wert thou here to chide 20 This softnesse from my flesh, farre as my reason, Farre as my resolution not to stirre One foote out of the way for death and hell! Let my false man by falshood perish here; There's no way else to set my true man cleere. 25

Enter Messenger.

Messenger. The King desires your Grace to come to Councill.

Gui. I come. It cannot be; hee will not dare To touch me with a treacherie so prophane. Would Clermont now were here, to try how hee Would lay about him, if this plot should be: 30 Here would be tossing soules into the skie. Who ever knew bloud sav'd by treacherie? Well, I must on, and will; what should I feare? Not against two, Alcides; against two, And Hercules to friend, the Guise will goe. 35

He takes up the Arras, and the Guard enters upon him: hee drawes.

Gui. Holde, murtherers! They strike him downe. So then, this is confidence In greatnes, not in goodnes. Wher is the King?

The King comes in sight with Es[pernone], Sois[son], & others.

Let him appeare to justifie his deede, In spight of my betrai'd wounds; ere my soule Take her flight through them, and my tongue hath strength 40 To urge his tyrannie.

Henry. See, sir, I am come To justifie it before men and God, Who knowes with what wounds in my heart for woe Of your so wounded faith I made these wounds, Forc't to it by an insolence of force 45 To stirre a stone; nor is a rocke, oppos'd To all the billowes of the churlish sea, More beate and eaten with them then was I With your ambitious, mad idolatrie; And this bloud I shed is to save the bloud 50 Of many thousands.

Gui. That's your white pretext; But you will finde one drop of bloud shed lawlesse Will be the fountaine to a purple sea. The present lust and shift made for Kings lives, Against the pure forme and just power of law, 55 Will thrive like shifters purchases; there hangs A blacke starre in the skies, to which the sunne Gives yet no light, will raine a poyson'd shower Into your entrailes, that will make you feele How little safetie lies in treacherous steele. 60

Hen. Well, sir, Ile beare it; y'have a brother to Bursts with like threates, the skarlet Cardinall— Seeke, and lay hands on him; and take this hence, Their blouds, for all you, on my conscience! Exit.

Gui. So, sir, your full swindge take; mine death hath curb'd. 65 Clermont, farewell! O didst thou see but this! But it is better; see by this the ice Broke to thine owne bloud, which thou wilt despise When thou hear'st mine shed. Is there no friend here Will beare my love to him?

Aumale. I will, my lord. 70

Gui. Thankes with my last breath: recommend me, then, To the most worthy of the race of men. Dyes. Exeunt.

[SCAENA QUINTA.

A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Enter Monts[urry] and Tamyra.

Montsurry. Who have you let into my house?

Tamyra. I? none.

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

Tam. That you may doe well; It is the bloud you lately shed you smell.

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

Tam. What vault? hold your sword. 5

Clermont ascends.

Clermont. No, let him use it.

Mont. Treason! murther! murther!

Cler. Exclaime not; tis in vaine, and base in you, Being one to onely one.

Mont. O bloudy strumpet!

Cler. With what bloud charge you her? it may be mine As well as yours; there shall not any else 10 Enter or touch you: I conferre no guards, Nor imitate the murtherous course you tooke, But single here will have my former challenge Now answer'd single; not a minute more My brothers bloud shall stay for his revenge, 15 If I can act it; if not, mine shall adde A double conquest to you, that alone Put it to fortune now, and use no ods. Storme not, nor beate your selfe thus gainst the dores, Like to a savage vermine in a trap: 20 All dores are sure made, and you cannot scape But by your valour.

Mont. No, no, come and kill mee.

Cler. If you will die so like a beast, you shall; But when the spirit of a man may save you, Doe not so shame man, and a Nobleman. 25

Mont. I doe not show this basenesse that I feare thee, But to prevent and shame thy victory, Which of one base is base, and so Ile die.

Cler. Here, then.

Mont. Stay, hold! One thought hath harden'd me, He starts up. And since I must afford thee victorie, 30 It shall be great and brave, if one request Thou wilt admit mee.

Cler. What's that?

Mont. Give me leave To fetch and use the sword thy brother gave mee, When he was bravely giving up his life.

Cler. No; Ile not fight against my brothers sword; 35 Not that I feare it, but since tis a tricke For you to show your backe.

Mont. By all truth, no: Take but my honourable othe, I will not.

Cler. Your honourable othe! Plaine truth no place has Where othes are honourable.

Tam. Trust not his othe. 40 Hee will lie like a lapwing; when shee flyes Farre from her sought nest, still "Here tis" shee cryes.

Mont. Out on thee, damme of divels! I will quite Disgrace thy bravos conquest, die, not fight. Lyes downe.

Tam. Out on my fortune, to wed such an abject! 45 Now is the peoples voyce the voyce of God; Hee that to wound a woman vants so much, As hee did mee, a man dares never touch.

Cler. Revenge your wounds now, madame; I resigne him Up to your full will, since hee will not fight. 50 First you shall torture him (as hee did you, And justice wils) and then pay I my vow. Here, take this ponyard.

Mont. Sinke earth, open heaven, And let fall vengeance!

Tam. Come sir, good sir, hold him.

Mont. O shame of women, whither art thou fled! 55

Cler. Why (good my lord) is it a greater shame For her then you? come, I will be the bands You us'd to her, prophaning her faire hands.

Mont. No, sir, Ile fight now, and the terror be Of all you champions to such as shee. 60 I did but thus farre dally; now observe. O all you aking fore-heads that have rob'd Your hands of weapons and your hearts of valour, Joyne in mee all your rages and rebutters, And into dust ram this same race of Furies; 65 In this one relicke of the Ambois gall, In his one purple soule shed, drowne it all. Fight.

Mont. Now give me breath a while.

Cler. Receive it freely.

Mont. What thinke y'a this now?

Cler. It is very noble, Had it beene free, at least, and of your selfe; 70 And thus wee see (where valour most doth vant) What tis to make a coward valiant.

Mont. Now I shall grace your conquest.

Cler. That you shall.

Mont. If you obtaine it.

Cler. True, sir, tis in fortune.

Mont. If you were not a D'Ambois, I would scarce 75 Change lives with you, I feele so great a change In my tall spirits breath'd, I thinke, with the breath A D'Ambois breathes here; and necessitie (With whose point now prickt on, and so whose helpe My hands may challenge) that doth all men conquer, 80 If shee except not you of all men onely, May change the case here.

Cler. True, as you are chang'd; Her power, in me urg'd, makes y'another man Then yet you ever were.

Mont. Well, I must on.

Cler. Your lordship must by all meanes.

Mont. Then at all. 85

Fights, and D'Ambois hurts him.

[Enter Renel, the Countess, and] Charlotte above.

Charlotte. Death of my father, what a shame is this! Sticke in his hands thus! She gets downe.

Renel [trying to stop her]. Gentle sir, forbeare!

Countess. Is he not slaine yet?

Ren. No, madame, but hurt In divers parts of him.

Mont. Y'have given it me, And yet I feele life for another vennie. 90

Enter Charlotte [below].

Cler. What would you, sir?

Char. I would performe this combat.

Cler. Against which of us?

Char. I care not much if twere Against thy selfe; thy sister would have sham'd To have thy brothers wreake with any man In single combat sticke so in her fingers. 95

Cler. My sister! know you her?

Tam. I, sir, shee sent him With this kinde letter, to performe the wreake Of my deare servant.

Cler. Now, alas! good sir, Thinke you you could doe more?

Char. Alas! I doe; And wer't not I, fresh, sound, should charge a man 100 Weary and wounded, I would long ere this Have prov'd what I presume on.

Cler. Y'have a minde Like to my sister, but have patience now; If next charge speede not, Ile resigne to you.

Mont. Pray thee, let him decide it.

Cler. No, my lord, 105 I am the man in fate; and since so bravely Your lordship stands mee, scape but one more charge, And, on my life, Ile set your life at large.

Mont. Said like a D'Ambois, and if now I die, Sit joy and all good on thy victorie! 110

Fights, and fals downe.

Mont. Farewell! I hartily forgive thee; wife, And thee; let penitence spend thy rest of life. Hee gives his hand to Cler[mont] and his wife.

Cler. Noble and Christian!

Tam. O, it breakes my heart.

Cler. And should; for all faults found in him before These words, this end, makes full amends and more. 115 Rest, worthy soule; and with it the deare spirit Of my lov'd brother rest in endlesse peace! Soft lie thy bones; Heaven be your soules abode; And to your ashes be the earth no lode!

Musicke, and the Ghost of Bussy enters, leading the Ghost[s] of the Guise, Monsieur, Cardinall Guise, and Shattilion; they dance about the dead body, and exeunt.

Cler. How strange is this! The Guise amongst these spirits, 120 And his great brother Cardinall, both yet living! And that the rest with them with joy thus celebrate This our revenge! This certainely presages Some instant death both to the Guise and Cardinall. That the Shattilions ghost to should thus joyne 125 In celebration of this just revenge With Guise that bore a chiefe stroke in his death, It seemes that now he doth approve the act; And these true shadowes of the Guise and Cardinall, Fore-running thus their bodies, may approve 130 That all things to be done, as here wee live, Are done before all times in th'other life. That spirits should rise in these times yet are fables; Though learnedst men hold that our sensive spirits A little time abide about the graves 135 Of their deceased bodies, and can take, In colde condenc't ayre, the same formes they had When they were shut up in this bodies shade.

Enter Aumall.

Aumale. O sir, the Guise is slaine!

Cler. Avert it heaven!

Aum. Sent for to Councill by the King, an ambush 140 (Lodg'd for the purpose) rusht on him, and tooke His princely life; who sent (in dying then) His love to you, as to the best of men.

Cler. The worst and most accursed of things creeping On earths sad bosome. Let me pray yee all 145 A little to forbeare, and let me use Freely mine owne minde in lamenting him. Ile call yee straight againe.

Aum. We will forbeare, And leave you free, sir. Exeunt.

Cler. Shall I live, and hee Dead, that alone gave meanes of life to me? 150 Theres no disputing with the acts of Kings; Revenge is impious on their sacred persons. And could I play the worldling (no man loving Longer then gaine is reapt or grace from him) I should survive; and shall be wondred at 155 Though (in mine owne hands being) I end with him: But friendship is the sement of two mindes, As of one man the soule and body is, Of which one cannot sever but the other Suffers a needfull separation. 160

Ren. I feare your servant, madame: let's descend. Descend Ren[el] & Coun[tess].

Cler. Since I could skill of man, I never liv'd To please men worldly, and shall I in death Respect their pleasures, making such a jarre Betwixt my death and life, when death should make 165 The consort sweetest, th'end being proofe and crowne To all the skill and worth wee truely owne? Guise, O my lord, how shall I cast from me The bands and coverts hindring me from thee? The garment or the cover of the minde 170 The humane soule is; of the soule, the spirit The proper robe is; of the spirit, the bloud; And of the bloud, the body is the shrowd. With that must I beginne then to unclothe, And come at th'other. Now, then, as a ship 175 Touching at strange and farre removed shores, Her men a shore goe, for their severall ends, Fresh water, victuals, precious stones, and pearle, All yet intentive, when the master cals, The ship to put off ready, to leave all 180 Their greediest labours, lest they there be left To theeves or beasts, or be the countries slaves: So, now my master cals, my ship, my venture All in one bottome put, all quite put off, Gone under saile, and I left negligent 185 To all the horrors of the vicious time, The farre remov'd shores to all vertuous aimes, None favouring goodnesse, none but he respecting Pietie or man-hood—shall I here survive, Not cast me after him into the sea, 190 Rather then here live, readie every houre To feede theeves, beasts, and be the slave of power? I come, my lord! Clermont, thy creature, comes. Hee kils himselfe.

Enter Aumal, Tamyra, Charlotte.

Aum. What! lye and languish, Clermont! Cursed man, To leave him here thus! hee hath slaine himselfe. 195

Tam. Misery on misery! O me wretched dame, Of all that breath! all heaven turne all his eyes In harty envie thus on one poore dame.

Char. Well done, my brother! I did love thee ever, But now adore thee: losse of such a friend 200 None should survive, of such a brother [none.] With my false husband live, and both these slaine! Ere I returne to him, Ile turne to earth.

Enter Renel leading the Countesse.

Ren. Horror of humane eyes! O Clermont D'Ambois! Madame, wee staid too long, your servant's slaine. 205

Coun. It must be so; he liv'd but in the Guise, As I in him. O follow life mine eyes!

Tam. Hide, hide thy snakie head; to cloisters flie; In pennance pine; too easie tis to die.

Char. It is. In cloisters then let's all survive. 210 Madame, since wrath nor griefe can helpe these fortunes, Let us forsake the world in which they raigne, And for their wisht amends to God complaine.

Count. Tis fit and onely needfull: leade me on; In heavens course comfort seeke, in earth is none. Exeunt. 215

Enter Henry, Espernone, Soissone, and others.

Henry. Wee came indeede too late, which much I rue, And would have kept this Clermont as my crowne. Take in the dead, and make this fatall roome (The house shut up) the famous D'Ambois tombe. Exeunt.

FINIS.

LINENOTES:

opens. Emended by ed.; Q, opes.

25 Nobleman. Two words in Q.

29 Cler. Here, then. Placed by Q at the end of l. 29.

44 bravos. Emended by ed.; Q, braves.

73-74. Three lines in Q, broken at conquest, it, and fortune.

88-89. Three lines in Q, broken at yet, him, and me.

125 Shattilions. Ed.; Q, Shattilians.

144 accursed. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, accurst.

201 none. Added by ed.

210 Char. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Cler.



Notes to The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois

For the meaning of single words see the Glossary.

168. To the right vertuous . . . Sr. Thomas Howard, &c. Thomas Howard, born before 1594, was the second son of the first Earl of Suffolk. He was created a Knight of the Bath in January, 1605, and in May, 1614, was appointed Master of the Horse to Charles, Prince of Wales. In 1622 he became Viscount Andover, and in 1626 Earl of Berkshire. He held a number of posts till the outbreak of the Civil War, and after the Restoration was appointed Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Charles II, and Privy Councillor. He died on July 16, 1669. His daughter Elizabeth married Dryden, and his sixth son, Sir Robert Howard, became distinguished as a dramatic writer and critic. Chapman addresses to this patron one of the Sonnets appended to his translation of the Iliad, in which he compares him to Antilochus, and calls him "valiant, and mild, and most ingenious."

169, 35-36. the most divine philosopher. The reference is doubtless to Epictetus, the influence of whose Discourses appears throughout The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois.

174, 70. That thinke . . . that, that do not consider heavenly bliss complete folly, when compared with money.

175, 71-2. Well . . . arise. A hypocritical appeal by Baligny to the absent Duke of Guise, of whose ambitious schemes he suspects Renel to be a supporter.

175, 79-82. My brother . . . brother. Cf. Introduction, p. xxxvii.

176, 97. stands now on price with him: is now the subject of bargaining between him and me.

178. Monsieur taking leave of the King. Henry apparently leaves the stage, after this formal ceremony of farewell, without speaking, for he takes no part in the dialogue, and he is not mentioned among those who exeunt at l. 290.

178, 145. See . . . Brabant. The expedition of the Duke of Anjou here alluded to is that of 1582, when he was crowned Duke of Brabant at Antwerp.

181, 202-4. durst . . . lady. Cf. Bussy D'Ambois, I, ii, 96-179.

181, 204-8. emptied . . . were. Cf. Bussy D'Ambois, III, ii, 478-515.

182, 234-5. When . . . commanders. Monsieur's description in these and the following lines of Clermont's and Bussy's first appearance at Court is purely fictitious.

183, 254. a keele of sea-coale. A keel was a flat-bottomed boat, used in the northeast of England, for loading and carrying coal. Afterwards the word was also used of the amount of coal a keel would carry, i. e. 8 chaldrons, or 21 tons 4 cwt. Sea-coal was the original term for the fossil coal borne from Newcastle to London by sea, to distinguish it from char-coal. Cf. Shakespeare, Merry Wives of Windsor, I, iv, 9, "at the latter end of a sea-coal fire."

184, 267. a poore knights living. The knights of Windsor, a small body who had apartments in the Castle, and pensions, were often known as "poor knights."

185, 278. But killing of the King! Cf. Bussy D'Ambois, III, ii, 411.

188, 332-3. Why, is not . . . worthily. If this is a complimentary allusion to Jaques' speech in As You Like It, II, vii, 140-166, it is remarkable as coming from the writer whom Shakespeare at an earlier date had probably attacked in his Sonnets.

188, 335-42. what the good Greeke moralist sayes . . . of both. This passage is based upon the Discourses of Epictetus, bk. IV, vii, 13, which, however, Chapman completely misinterprets. Epictetus is demonstrating that a reasonable being should be able to bear any lot contentedly. "theleis penian phere kai gnosei ti estin penia tychousa kalou hypokritou. theleis archas? phere, kai ponous."

hypokrites is used here metaphorically, of one who acts a part in life, not, as Chapman takes it, of an actor in the professional sense.

188-189, 354-5. The splenative philosopher . . . all. Democritus.

189, 356-74. All objects . . . they were. These lines are suggested by Juvenal's Satire, X, ll. 33-55, but they diverge too far from the original to be merely a paraphrase, as they are termed by the editor of the 1873 reprint.

191, 17-18. That . . . fire. Cf. Bussy D'Ambois, V, iv, 148-53.

194, 75. These . . . armes. Cf. Bussy D'Ambois, V, i, 128-154.

200-201, 40-3. Since they . . . wrong'd: since these decrees ensure the performance of that guardianship, so that earth and heaven are kept true to their original order and purpose, in no case must the wrong suffered by an individual man, as he thinks, be considered really a wrong done to him.

203, 105. Euphorbus, son of Panthous, a Trojan hero, who first wounded Patroclus, but was afterwards slain by Menelaus. Pythagoras, as part of his doctrine of the transmigration of souls, is said to have claimed to have been formerly Euphorbus.

204, 113-22. What said . . . power. The reference is to Sophocles' Antigone, 446-457, where the Princess justifies herself for burying her brother's body in defiance of Creon's edict.

205, 135-6. For . . . authoritie. The lines here paraphrased, to which Chapman gives a marginal reference, are from the Antigone, 175-7.

Amechanon de pantos andros ekmathein psychen te kai phronema kai gnomen, prin ain archais te kai nomoisin entribes phainei.

205, 141. virtuosi. The word is here used not in the sense of connoisseurs, but of devotees of virtue. The editor has not been able to trace any other instance of this.

206, 157-60. that lyons . . . prey. Adapted and expanded from the Discourses of Epictetus, bk. IV, i, 25. The original of the words quoted marginally by Chapman in a Latin version is, ouchi d' hosoi malakoteron diexagei, tosoutoi doulikoteron?

207, 181. Simil[iter]. By this marginal reference Chapman seems to indicate that ll. 176-181 are drawn from the same source—the Discourses of Epictetus—as ll. 157-160, to which the previous marginal note refers. But no such passage occurs in the Discourses.

209-210, 205-34 The Massacre . . . never massacerd. On this strange apologia for the Guise's share in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, see Introduction, pp. xxxix-xl.

209-210, 211-32. Who was in fault . . . lost. Freely adapted and transposed from the Discourses of Epictetus, I, xxviii, 11-20.

210-211, 246-9. your brave . . . deere. Cf. Appendix B, where De Serres mentions the Count of Auvergne's "Scottish horse (which Vitry had given him) the which would have outrunne all the horses of France."

213, 5-6. th'insulting Pillars Of Bacchus and Alcides. These "Pillars" are mentioned together by Strabo (bk. III, vi), who relates that during Alexander's expedition to India the Macedonians did not see them, but identified those places with them, where they found records of the god or the hero.

216, 69-70. What thinke . . . lackies coates. Cf. Appendix B, where Nerestan has three "lackquaies," who are in reality "soldiars so attyred" for the purpose of arresting the Count of Auvergne.

217, 82-6. Who knowes . . . made: who is unaware that crafty policy pads out the giant that does his will, so that his wisdom may seem commensurate with his bulk, though it is merely for a trifling encounter with what, when touched, proves a shadow, though policy makes it out to be a monster.

219, 12. The Locrian princes. The inhabitants of Locri, a settlement near the promontory of Zephyrium, were celebrated for the excellence of their code of laws, drawn up by Zaleucus.

220, 41-46. Demetrius Phalerius, born about B. C. 345, was a follower of Phocion, and on the death of the latter in B. C. 317, became head of the Athenian administration. The citizens, in gratitude for his services, erected 360 statues to him, but afterwards turned against him. In B. C. 307 he was driven from Athens, sentence of death was passed on him, and the statues were demolished.

220, 47. Demades, a contemporary of Demosthenes, who, by his genius for extempore oratory, raised himself to a predominant position in Athens as a champion of the Macedonian influence, but afterwards incurred the penalty of atimia.

228-230, 209-34. I will search you . . . search no more. This episode is suggested by the following passage concerning the Count of Auvergne in Appendix B. "Hee was ready to call the two brothers of Murat into his cabinet, and to cause them to be searcht, for that he was well advertised that they alwayes carryed the Kings letters and his commandments. But a great resolution, thinking that there is no more harme in fearing, then in the thing that causeth feare, feares extremely to make shewe that hee hath any feare."

233, 24. Two . . . Hercules. A proverbial expression. Cf. V, iv, 34-5.

234, 14-25. When Homer . . . despis'd. The editor of the 1873 edition of Chapman's Plays points out that "these twelve lines headed Of great men appear, with a few unimportant verbal differences, among the Epigrams printed at the end of Chapman's Petrarch in 1612."

234, 20. for disposing these: for regulating these gifts of fame, strength, noble birth, and beauty. These is used loosely to qualify the nouns implied by the adjectives, Strong'st, noblest, fairest, in l. 19.

236, 56-7. You can . . . minde. If the text is correct, the lines mean: you can never find means to give attention to externals without neglecting the improvement of your mind. Mr. Brereton has suggested to the editor that the true reading may be, Things out worth care, in which case "out" = "outward."

236, 58-75. God . . . birth. A free paraphrase of the Discourses of Epictetus, bk. IV, vii, 6-11.

236, 78-9. But . . . honour, but the reason alleged, to see these battalions in review order, is a great compliment to you.

237, 84-95. I over-tooke . . . the Earle of Oxford. The subject of this remarkable encomium was Edward de Vere (1550-1604), seventeenth Earl of Oxford. He was educated at Cambridge, and from an early age became a prominent figure at the Court of Elizabeth, who, it was said in 1573, "delighteth more in his personage, and his dancing and valiantness, than any other." In 1575 he paid a visit to Italy, and it is apparently to an episode on his return journey in the spring of 1576 that reference is made here, and in the following lines. The portrait here drawn of him is too flattering, as he was violent in temper and extravagant, but the Earl's literary gifts merited the praise of Chapman. Puttenham and Meres speak highly of him as a writer of comedy, and Webbe pays a tribute to his excellence in "the rare devises of poetry." Over twenty of his lyrics survive, chiefly in anthologies.

237, 95-103. being offer'd . . . quit. The Duke Cassimere here spoken of was John Casimir, Count Palatine, who in the autumn of 1575 entered into alliance with the Huguenots and invaded France, but, after suffering a check at the hands of the Duke of Guise, made a truce and retired. The incident here spoken of apparently took place in the spring of the next year (cf. the previous note). Why, however, does Chapman introduce it here, and how did he know of it? Can he, immediately after leaving Oxford, which he entered, according to Wood, "in 1574 or thereabouts," have gone in Oxford's train to the Continent?

238, 112. a Sir John Smith. Though alluded to in so contemptuous a way, this Sir John Smith appears to be the noted soldier of fortune, diplomatist, and military writer, who lived from about 1534 to 1607. After serving for many years in continental armies, in 1574 he became an agent of the English government, and took part in various diplomatic missions. In 1590 he published "Certain Discourses concerning the formes and effects of divers sorts of Weapons" and dedicated the work to the English nobility, whom he calls in one part of his "proeme" the "verie eyes, eares and language of the king, and the bodie of the watch, and redresse of the Commonwealth." Hence perhaps the allusion in l. 113 to "common Nobles fashions."

238-9, 127-41. If you would Consull be . . . no thought? A translation of the Discourses of Epictetus, bk. IV, x, 20-22.

238-9, 129-30. gloryfying Plebeians, Kissing Patricians hands. Epictetus has simply, tas cheiras kataphilesai.

239, 134. sit for the whole tribunall. A mistranslation of epi bema kathisai, i. e. "sit on the tribunal."

239, 138-9. And to be voide . . . constancie. An obscure rendering of hyper apatheias oun, hyper ataraxias. For constancie = for the sake of tranquillity of mind.

240, 152. Colonell. Clermont seems to be addressed by this title because of the statement in Appendix B that "D'Eurre intreated the count of Auvergne to see [the muster] to the ende . . . that all his companions should be wonderfully honored with the presence of their coronell."

242-3, 11-39. What spirit . . . of the skie. This account of Clermont's desperate struggle to avoid capture is an invention of Chapman. P. Matthieu says of the Count of Auvergne: "It was feared that he would not have suffered himselfe to bee taken so easily nor so quietly." Cf. Appendix B.

245, 77. "Who . . . none." Cf. III, ii, 242.

245, 80-5. But . . . more. Cf. Appendix B. "Hee was mooved to see himselfe so intreated by laquais, intreating D'Eurre . . . that hee might not see those rascals any more."

246, 99. organe of his danger: instrument of his dangerous designs.

246, 109. To leave . . . trumpets. Cf. Appendix B. "'Well,' said hee, 'I yeeld, what will you have mee to doe?' 'That you mount upon the trompets horse,' sayd D'Eurre."

247, 112-24. let mee begge . . . rather die. Cf. Appendix B. "He intreated D'Eurre to lend him one of his troupe to carry some message of his remembrance, and of his miserie, to a ladie that attended him. . . . Shee loved him well, and was well beloved: for the Count of Auvergne hath been heard say, that if the King did set him at libertie and send him back to his house, uppon condition that he should not see this ladie, hee would rather desire to die."

250, 30. Something . . . goe. An obscure line. It seems to mean that, as the wealth of merchants may be scattered by storms, so the performances of "state-merchants" or rulers may be cut short before obtaining their end.

254, 44-5. let . . . danger: let them be afraid that the precedents set by Kings in violating obligations may prove a dangerous example.

255, 70-76. O knew I . . . a pistoll. Cf. Appendix B. "If I knew . . . that I might save him, in forcing through your troupe, I would willingly doe it, and if I had but tenne men of my courage and resolution, you should not carrie him where you thinke. But I will never die till I have given D'Eurre a hundred shott with a pistoll, and to Murat a hundred blowes with a sword."

256, 87. Exit Ancil[la]. i. e. Riova, the Countess's waiting-maid.

257, 108. This . . . charge. The thrifty Usher is apparently deploring that the Countess, before retiring, had sent so rich a gift of jewels to Clermont.

259, 42-3. this Senecall man . . . compare. He is so completely a Senecall man that he may be compared with, etc.

259, 51-3. Cacusses . . . still. The legend of the Italian shepherd and robber Cacus, who carried his plunder to his cave or "den," is told by Ovid (Fasti, I, 544 ff.), Virgil (AEneid, VIII, 190 ff.), and other writers.

260, 57-8. Better . . . thrive: it were better for a man to be buried alive than exist as a mere property for a despoliating government to grow rich upon.

265, 98-102. the late . . . on him. It is singular that Bussy D'Ambois contains no such "dying prophesie" as is here alluded to, unless the reference is to V, iv, 76-78. Bussy, as he dies, forgives his murderers (V, iv, 112).

267, 37-9. Hast thou . . . Reimes. Cf. Appendix B. "At the Barricades this voice was heard: 'It is no longer time to dally, let us lead my lord to Reimes.'"

268, 53. The cause alike doth. The same cause doth.

268, 55-61. which . . . counsailes. Cf. Appendix B. "Advertisements were come to him from all parts, both within and without the realme, from Rome, Spaine, Lorraine, and Savoye, that a bloodie catastrophe would dissolve the assemblie."

268-69, 62-8. Retyre . . . exhale. Cf. Appendix B. "The Archbishop of Lion . . . 'Retyring yourselfe from the Estates' (said he unto him) 'you shall beare the blame to have abandoned France in so important an occasion, and your enemies, making their profit of your absence, wil sone overthrowe al that which you have with so much paine effected for the assurance of religion.'"

270, 89-91. To be . . . eternitie: to be His image is to do the deeds that confer immortality, which, owing to the existence of death, consists only in doing the deeds that befit eternal life.

270, 102. Thou dream'st awake now. Guise here turns Clermont's own words in l. 41 against him.

272, 144-8. those loveliest eyes . . . teares. A much more overwhelming calamity than that which befell the lady in the original narrative, where it is stated that owing to her "passion . . . she lost the sight of one eye for a tyme."

276, 18-19. for not . . . neglect: for the counsels that you disclose you do not render of no account.

278, 29. this mortal quarrie: this deadly attack. Quarry is generally used of slaughtered game, but it also signifies the attack or swoop of the bird or beast of prey on its victim, and here we have an extension of this sense.

280, 3-6. I . . . enter. Chapman here combines two episodes assigned by De Serres to different days. Cf. Appendix B. "The eve before his death, the Duke himselfe sitting down to dinner, found a scroule under his napkin, advertising him of this secret ambush." On the following morning "the Duke of Guise comes, and attending the beginning of the councell sends for a handkercher. . . . Pericart, his secretarie . . . ties a note to one of the corners thereof, saying, 'Come forth and save your selfe, else you are but a dead man.'"

281, 34-5. Not . . . goe. Taken in conjunction with III, iii, 24, this means: Hercules is no match for two foes, but Guise will encounter two, though with Hercules as their ally.

283, 61-3. y'have a brother to . . . on him. Louis de Lorraine, youngest brother of the Duke of Guise, became Archbishop of Rheims in 1574, and Cardinal in 1578.

286, 33-4. the sword . . . life. Cf. Bussy D'Ambois, V, iv, 114-118.

286, 41-2. Hee will lie . . . shee cryes. This habit of the lapwing gave the bird an evil reputation as a symbol of deceitfulness. Cf. Measure for Measure, I, iv, 32.

Though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest, Tongue far from heart.

For a sarcastic hit at a different trick of the lapwing, cf. Hamlet, V, ii, 174.

289, 85. [Enter Renel, the Countess, and] Charlotte above. The addition of the bracketed words is necessary, as the Q gives no indication of the entrance of these two characters. They appear with Charlotte "above," i. e. in a gallery at the back of the stage. When Charlotte, enraged at Clermont's slowness in dispatching Montsurry, "gets downe" (l. 87), they remain in the gallery unobserved.

291, 125-7. That the Shatillions ghost . . . death. Gaspar de Chatillon, better known as Admiral de Coligny, the champion of the Huguenot party, was murdered during "the Massacre of St. Bartholomew," on Aug. 24, 1572, at the instigation of the Duke of Guise.

293, 161. I . . . descend. Renel and the Countess have overheard from the gallery (cf. note on l. 85) Clermont's speech, and Renel, realising that it foreshadows suicide, descends in the hope of preventing this. But, as he has to lead his blind companion, his progress is slow, and when they "enter" the main stage (l. 203), it is too late.



APPENDIX A

DE LA MORT PITOYABLE DU VALEUREUX LYSIS

Under this title, in the 17th of the series of tales founded on fact which he calls Les Histoires Tragiques de Nostre Temps, Francois de Rosset relates in 1615 the story of Bussy's death. In the Preface to the volume he declares: "Ce ne sont pas des contes de l'Antiquite fabuleuse . . . Ce sont des histoires autant veritables que tristes et funestes. Les noms de la pluspart des personnages sont seulement desguisez en ce Theatre, a fin de n'affliger pas tant les familles de ceux qui en ont donne le suject, puis qu'elles en sont assez affligees." We thus find that the outlines of the story of "Lysis" tally with what we know about Bussy from other sources, and Rosset not improbably preserves details omitted by the historians of the period.

Lysis, Rosset tells us, was sprung from one of the most noble and renowned Houses of France. At seventeen he had acquired an extraordinary reputation for bravery, which increased till "jamais la France depuis le valeureux Roland, ne porta un tel Palladin." Afterwards "il vint a la cour du Prince qui venoit de quiter une Couronne estrangere, pour recevoir celle qui luy appartenoit par les droits de la loy Salique, [i. e. Henry III, who gave up the throne of Poland on succeeding to that of France.] . . . Les rares dons dont il estoit accomply luy acquirent tant de part aux bonnes graces du premier Prince du sang Royal, qu'il estoit tousiours aupres de luy. . . . Mais l'envie . . . tous les jours . . . faisait de mauvais rapports a sa Maieste de Lysis, de sorte qu'elle le voyoit d'aussi mauvais oeil, que l'autre Prince, son proche parent, faisoit conte de sa prouesse."

He had never been the victim of love, but he was instantly captivated by the beautiful eyes of a lady whom he met at an assembly at the house of a Judge in one of the towns of which he was Governor.

"Ceste beaute, pour le respect que je dois a ceux a qui elle appartenoit, sera nommee Sylvie. . . . Cette dame . . . estoit mariee avec un grand Seigneur, jeune, vaillan, sage, discret et courtois." She would not at first gratify her lover's passion, though she granted him "de petites privautez," which only fanned the flame. He wrote her a letter in which he declared that if she refused him her favour, it meant his sentence of death. She replied in a temporising manner that when he had given proofs of his fidelity, she would decide as to what she ought to do. Rosset asserts that these two letters are not invented, but that he obtained them from a friend who had made a collection of such epistles, and who "a este curieux de scavoir le nom des personnes qui les ont escrites."

Meanwhile, he continues, "elle donne le vray moyen a Lysis de la voir, sans le souciet qu'on en parle, pourveu que sa conscience la deffende. Et particulierement ce fut en un jardin qui est a l'un des fauxbourgs de la ville." Some tale-bearers, putting the worst construction on their behaviour, gave information to Lisandre, the husband of Sylvie, but he refused to credit anything to the dishonour of his wife. To stop gossip, however, he took her with him to a house he had not far from the town. But the lovers communicated with one another by messengers, till Lisandre's departure on a journey removed all obstacle to their intercourse. "Ce Seigneur avait des affaires hors de la province ou il faisoit pour lors sa demeure. Pour les terminer, il s'y achemine au grand contentement de Sylvie, qui neantmoins contrefaisoit la dolente a son depart & le sommoit de revenir le plustot qu'il luy seroit possible, tandis que dans son ame elle prioit a Dieu que son voyage fust aussi long que celuy d'Ulysse." When he was gone, she immediately sent for Lysis, and they spent two or three days in transports of delight, though she continued to safeguard her honour.

On Lisandre's return the King, instigated by the enemies of Lysis, reproached the former for tamely enduring dishonour, and bade him never reappear in the royal presence till he had wiped out the stain. Lisandre therefore offered his wife the choice of three courses. She was to swallow poison, or die beneath his dagger, or write to Lysis, telling him that Lisandre was still absent, and begging him to come to her. After a struggle Sylvie wrote the fatal missive, and Lysis, though at the castle gate he was overcome by a premonition of evil and almost turned back, was obedient to her summons, and entered her chamber unarmed. The final scene is thus described.

"A l'instant il se void environne d'une douzaine d'hommes armez, qui de pistolets, qui d'espees nues, et qui de hallebardes. Lisandre est parmy eux, qui luy crie: 'C'est maintenant que tu recevras le salaire de la honte que tu as faicte a ma maison. Ce disant, il lasche un pistolet, et luy perce un bras. Les autres le chargent avec leurs halebardes, et avec leurs espees. . . . Le valeureux Lysis . . . avec un escabeau qu'il tient en main donne si rudement sur la teste de l'un de ses adversaires, qu'il en fait sortir la cervelle. Il en assomme encores deux autres: mais que peut-il faire contre tant de gens, & ainsi desarme qu'il est? Son corps perce comme un crible, verse un grand ruisseau de sang. En fin il se jette sur Lisandre, et bien que par derriere on luy baille cent coups de poignards, il le prend, et le souleve, prest a le jetter du haut en bas d'une fenestre, si tous les autres ensemble, en se jettant sur luy, ne l'en eussent empesche. Il les escarte encores a coups de poings & neantmoins il sesent tousiours percer de part en part. Voyant qu'il ne pouvoit eschapper la mort, il s'approche de la fenestre & puis, tout sanglant qu'il est, il saute legerement en bas. Mais, o malheur, il portoit un accoustrement decouppe, qui est arreste par le fer d'un treillis. Ses adversaires le voyant ainsi empestre comme un autre Absalon, luy donnent tant de coups de halebardes, qu'a la fin, ils privent le monde du plus grand courage, et de la plus grande valeur du siecle. O valeureux Lysis! que je plains l'injustice de ton sort!"

It will be seen that Rosset's account of the final episodes, beginning with the intervention of the King, agrees, in the main details, with the following description by De Thou, which appeared in 1620, in the Genevan edition of the Historiae Sui Temporis, lib. LXVIII, p. 330 (vol. III, p. 675, of Buckley's edition, 1733).

"Dum[310:1] adhuc Andinus in aula esset, literas per jocum regi ostenderat a Ludovico Claramontio Ambosiano Bussio ad se scriptas; quibus, pro summa quae ei cum hero suo juvene erat familiaritate, significabat se feram magni venatoris (ita uxorem vocabat Caroli Cambii Monsorelli comitis, quem ea dignitate Andinus paulo ante Bussii commendatione ornaverat) indagine cinxisse, et in plagas conjecisse. Quas literas rex retinuerat, et Bussii jam a longo tempore insolenti arrogantia et petulantia irritatus, occasionem inde sumpsit veteres ab eo acceptas injurias ulciscendi. Is siquidem, et dum in aula esset, nullo non contumeliae genere in proceres et gynaeceum etiam aulicum usus fuerat, fiducia pugnacitatis qua se terribilem cunctis reddiderat; sed etiam postquam se ad comitatum Andini receperat, dum Andegavi arcem toto illo tractu munitissimam et urbi populosae impositam teneret, oppidanis et toti provinciae gravis ob crebras exactiones, quas privata auctoritate, non consulto plerumque Andino ipso, faciebat, summum omnium odium in se concitaverat. Igitur rex Monsorellum, qui tunc forte in aula erat, clam revocat, et literas Bussii ei ostendit; additque se decoris familiae et ejus dignitatis perquam studiosum, noluisse rem adeo injuriosam eum celare; ceterum scire ipsum debere, quid consilii in tali occasione se capere deceat et oporteat. Nec plura elocutus hominem dimittit, qui, non solum injuriae tantae morsu perculsus, sed monitis regis incitatus, quae ille tanquam ignaviae exprobationem si injuriam ferret accipiebat, protinus domum revolat, summo silentio, ut Bussium lateret: astuque per uxorem ad Bussium literas dari curat, quibus ei horam ad secretum Coustanteriae condicebat; ea erat arx voluptuaria et venationibus opportuna; ad quam cum Bussius cum Colladone conscio sub vesperam XIV Kal. Sept. venisset, ab ipso Monsorello et aliis loricatis oppressus: tamen, qua erat animi praesentia, quamvis unus contra plures, summa vi percussores initio disjecit; tandemque numero victus, spiritu inter certandum deficiente, cum se in fossam per fenestram praecipitare vellet, a tergo interfectus est."

FOOTNOTES:

[310:1] While the Duke of Anjou was still at Court, he had shown in jest to the King, a letter which had been written to him by Louis de Clermont Bussy d'Ambois. In this letter, owing to the very intimate terms on which he stood with his young patron, he told him that he had enclosed and caught in his net the hind of a mighty hunter. Thus he termed the wife of Charles de Chambes, Count of Montsoreau, on whom the Duke had conferred that title a short time before, at the recommendation of Bussy. This letter the King had kept, and as he had long been annoyed by Bussy's insolent arrogance and his petulant temper, he availed himself of this opportunity of avenging the old insults he had received from him. Even while he was at Court, he had been guilty of every sort of insult to nobles and Court ladies, trusting to his prowess as a swordsman, by which he made himself a terror to every one. So also after he had betaken himself to the district of Anjou, occupying, as he did, the citadel of Angers, the most powerful stronghold in all that district, and commanding the populous city, he had made himself a burden to the townspeople and the whole province by his frequent exactions, generally made on his own authority, without consulting the Duke of Anjou. He had thus stirred up against himself a deep-seated and universal hatred.

Therefore the King secretly called aside Montsoreau, who was then at Court, and showed him Bussy's letter, and added that, as he was extremely solicitous about his family honour and his dignity, he did not wish to conceal so insulting a matter from him; for the rest he ought to know himself what measures it behoved him to take under such circumstances. Without further words he dismissed Montsoreau. The Count, stung to the quick by so grave an injury to his honour, and excited by the admonitions of the King, which he interpreted as reproaches for his cowardice, should he tamely bear the insult, at once flew home, in the greatest secrecy, so that Bussy should not know of his return. By a stratagem he arranged that a letter should be sent by his wife to Bussy, making a secret assignation with him at La Coutanciere, which was a pleasure-resort and convenient for hunting purposes. When Bussy came there with his associate Colasseau at nightfall on the nineteenth of August, he was fallen upon by Montsoreau and other armed men. Yet, such was his coolness, that though he was one against many, he at first by mighty exertions discomfited his assailants. At length, overcome by numbers, and breath failing him in the struggle, he tried to throw himself out of the window into the castle-moat, but was stabbed in the back and killed.



APPENDIX B

HISTORICAL SOURCES OF THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS

I

PIERRE MATTHIEU'S NARRATIVE OF THE ARREST OF THE COUNT D'AUVERGNE, INCORPORATED BY EDWARD GRIMESTON IN HIS TRANSLATION OF JEAN DE SERRES'S INVENTAIRE GENERAL DE L'HISTOIRE DE FRANCE

(1046.)[313:1] "The King offended with the practises of the Count of Auvergne, commanded him to come unto him, and to trust unto his clemency, the which was not unknowne unto him. Descures made some jorneys unto him, from whome he brought nothing but delaies and excuses. . . .

(1047.) "The King, therefore, seeing that he would not come but with conditions that did not agree with a perfect obedience, resolved to have him by one means or other. . . . The King's intention was imparted to the Vicont of Pont du Chasteau, to D'Eurre, Lieutenant of the Duke of Vandosmes company, to the Baron of Camilac, to La Boulaye, Lieutenant to the company of the Marquis of Verneuil, to Nerestan, Colonell of a Regiment of foote, and to so many others as it is a wonder it was not divulged being in so many heads. In this action all shewed the duties and affections of good men which respected their honours. Many means were attempted but they were incountred with great difficulties and crosses. . . . The surest meanes (& that wherein there was least trouble and scandall) was the mustring of the Duke of Vandosmes company. . . . D'Eurre who prest Murat (Treasorer extraordinary of the warres) to paie his company a muster, intreated the count of Auvergne to see it, to the ende hee might assure the King that hee had gallant men and good horses, and that all his companions should be wonderfully honored with the presence of their coronell. 'I will part to morrowe' sayd the Count of Auvergne 'to hunt at Alezou, and will returne againe on Monday at night; I pray you bee heere at super, and lodge your company at Normain, to the ende that the next day, after that wee have dronke, runne at the ring, and dined, we may see it.'

(1048.) "This was done as he had appointed. . . . D'Eurre came to Clermont on Monday at night, and goes unto him where he supped in one of their houses that managed this businesse. . . . The next day, the ninth of November, the morning was spent in running at the ring. . . . They went to dinner, and it was well observed that the Count of Auvergne had some distrust. He hath since confest that hee was ready to call the two brothers of Murat into his cabinet, and to cause them to be searcht, for that he was well advertised that they alwayes carryed the Kings letters and his commandments. But a great resolution, thinking that there is no more harme in fearing then in the thing that causeth feare, feares extremely to make shewe that hee hath any feare. After dinner D'Eurre asked, 'If it pleased him to go to horse to see the musters.' He answered him; 'That it should be presently, and that he should use speed.' He retyred himselfe soone after into his cabinet and went downe . . . mounted upon a Scottish horse (which Vitry had given him) the which would have outrunne all the horses of France. He would not attend the other noblemen for that he distrusted them, having an intent to passe on, if he found them not ready. But beeing come to the place, he found the company in battell. This great diligence made him somewhat jealous, and they might perceive him, that, pulling up his cloake, he drewe his sword foure fingers out, yet without any amazement. D'Eurre, seeing him make even the reynes of his horse, came to him trotting, with his hat in his hand, and hearing him sweare with a great oath that he had been very dilligent, 'You may see, my lord' (answered he) 'I have caused my companions to advance, for that I would not trouble you with attendance.' 'Monsieur D'Eurre' (replyed the Earle) 'you are one of my friends, I cannot make any long stay here.' To whome D'Eurre said: 'All my companions are not yet here, but, if it please you, you shall see this troupe, and judge of the whole by a part.' Hereupon he sees some horsemen come and demands what they were. D'Eurre told him: 'That it was Nerestan, who had beene at Rion about a sute of his daughters.' He beleeved it, for he knewe that Nerestan had stayd some dayes at Rion and yet his heart began to suspect more. But it was too late, hee was environed on every side, and hardly can one resist many. Nerestan lighted to salute him, and having entertayned him with some discourse uppon the occasion of his staye at Rion, or of his returne to Court, he went presently to horse-back, and thrust on one of the lackquaies with his foote, for a signe and token of the beginning of the execution.

"One of Nerestans three lackquaies takes holde of his horse by the bridle. D'Eurre, seeing that Nerestan had taken the right side to salute the Count of Auvergne, went unto the left, and laying hold with his hand uppon the hilt of his sword, he sayd unto him that hee had commandement from the King to take him. The other two laquais pulled him so roughly from his horse, as he had like to have fallen to the ground; hee was mooved to see himselfe so intreated by laquais, intreating D'Eurre to cause two of his companions to light, and that hee might not see those rascalls any more. Nerestan sayd unto him that they were soldiars so attyred to serve the King in this action. A peece shott into the ayre by chance made him to doubt worse measure, so as hee intreated D'Eurre that he would not use his pistolet. D'Eurre freed him from these apprehensions, intreating him to resolve upon the Kings will, and not to force them to intreat him otherwise than they desired. 'Well,' said hee, 'I yeeld, what will you have mee to doe?' 'That you mount upon the trompets horse,' sayd D'Eurre. It was feared that he would not have suffered himselfe to bee taken so easily nor so quietly, as wee have seene many great courages choose rather to be cut in peeces then to see themselves reserved for some shamefull end, and others that have willingly dyed, for that they would not die by force. When as he sees himselfe in the toyles invironed on al sides . . . hee sayd, 'Ah! in the Divels name, I doubted all this.' Being mounted upon the trompets nagg, they conduct him presently to Aigueperse. Before hee had gone a hundred paces, he intreated D'Eurre to lend him one of his troupe, to carry some message of his remembrance, and of his miserie, to a ladie that attended him. De Pleche had the charge. Shee who had not prepared her heart to withstand the assaults of a most extreame and sensible griefe, tooke D'Eurre for the object, against whome shee poured forth the furie of her passions. 'If I knew' (sayd shee unto this gentleman) 'that I might save him in forcing through your troupe, I would willingly doe it, and if I had but tenne men of my courage and resolution, you should not carrie him where you thinke. But I will never die till I have given D'Eurre a hundred shott with a pistoll, and to Murat a hundred blowes with a sword.' These were the passions of her love, transported with a resolution beyond her sexe, and which did participate of a man, of a troubled mind, and of love. This last makes miracles of marvells and marvells of miracles, in wills that are equally toucht with his inspirations. . . . Shee loved him well, and was well beloved: for the Count of Auvergne hath been heard say, that if the King did set him at libertie, and send him back to his house, uppon condition that hee should not see this ladie, hee would rather desire to die. Shee presently ordered the affaires of her house, the disposition of her furniture, and the retreat of her servants. This passion going from the memorie to the thought, from the thought to the heart, from the heart to the eyes, made her to powre forth so many teares, as shee lost the sight of one eye for a tyme. . . .

"All the way hee seemed no more afflicted, then when hee was at libertie. He tould youthfull and idle tales of his love, and the deceiving of ladies. Hee shott in a harquebuse at birds, wherein hee was so perfect and excellent, as hee did kill larkes as they were flying. . . .

(1050.) "We may observe in this apprehension many things that may breed admiration and amazement, and which shewe that men do in vaine furnish themselves with wisedome against Heaven and with intelligences against the King. The Count of Auvergne had advertisements from all places that they should take him, and that the Kings pensioners were in the field to that effect. His most inward and neerest friends and, among others Florac, knewe it, and said nothing unto him, preferring his duty to his Prince before all affection. The Constable was also as well informed thereof as any other and yet he made no shewe thereof. . . . His duty prescribed him a law to all the bounds of nature; so there is not any one but is more bound to the service of the King and his country then to his owne health, or to that of his children. A gentleman, being at his table, speaking of this taking, said, 'Sir, if the King should command mee to take you, I would doe it, although I bee your most humble servant, that you march in the first rankes of greatnesse in the realm, and that all things touching armes, depend upon your commandments.' 'I beleeve it' (answered the Constable) 'else you should do ill, for the King is both your King and mine. I am your friend.' There is no love nor affection to dispence any one from the Kings commandments."

II

GRIMESTON'S TRANSLATION OF J. DE SERRES'S NARRATIVE OF THE MURDER OF THE DUKE OF GUISE IN HIS INVENTAIRE GENERAL

The King determines to get rid of Guise, "this newe starre in the East whom the people worshipped already." (722.) "Hee hath caused bookes to bee printed in favour of the lawfull succession of the House of Lorraine to the Crowne. At the Barricades this voice was heard: 'It is no longer time to dally, let us lead my lord to Reimes.' He hath suffered himselfe to be saluted by the people, with cries and acclamations which belong only to the Soveraigne Prince."

The Duke, scenting danger, thinks of absenting himself from the meetings of the Estates, but is dissuaded.

(723.) "The Archbishop of Lion, attending a Cardinals hatt within a few dayes from Rome, 'Retyring your selfe from the Estates' (said he unto him) 'you shall beare the blame to have abandoned France in so important an occasion, and your enemies, making their profit of your absence, wil sone overthrowe al that which you have with so much paine effected for the assurance of religion.'

"Man doth often loose his judgement upon the point of his fal. Advertisements were come to him from all parts, both within and without the realme, from Rome, Spaine, Lorraine and Savoye, that a bloodie catastrophe would dissolve the assemblie. The almanakes had well observed it: it was generally bruted in the Estates, that the execution should be on Saint Thomas day. The eve before his death, the Duke himselfe sitting downe to dinner, found a scroule under his napkin, advertising him of this secret ambush. But (as ambition blinds those whome shee hath raised up to the pies nest, and the furie of Gods judgements confounds such as trust in their authoritie) he writ underneath, with his owne hand 'They dare not'; and threw it under the table.

"The Duke of Guise, following the councell of the Cardinall Morosin, had the one and twentith of December incensed the King a new by some bold and presumptous speeches. . . . The King had the two and twentith day following prepared seven of his five and fortie (they were gentlemen whome hee had appointed to be neere his person, besides the ordinarie archers of his gard) to execute his will, and by many dispatches had assured those townes which hee held to bee most mutinous. The three and twentith he assembles his Councell somewhat more early in the morning then was usuall, having a devotion to go after dinner, and to spend the holidayes at our Ladie of Clery. . . . The Duke of Guise comes, and attending the beginning of the councell sends for a handkercher: (the groome of [724] his chamber had forgotten to put one into his hose.) Pericart, his secretarie, not daring to commit this new advertisement to any mans report, ties a note to one of the corners thereof, saying, 'Come forth and save your selfe, else you are but a dead man.' But they stay the page that carried it. Larchant, captaine of the Kings gard, causeth an other to be given unto him with all speed by Saint Prix, the chiefe grome of the Kings chamber. The Castle gates are shutt, and the Councell sits about eight of the clocke.

"The spirit of man doth often prophecie of the mischeefe that doth pursue him. So whilest they dispute of a matter propounded by Petremolle, the Duke feeles strange alterations, and extraordinary distemperatures, and, amidest his distrust, a great fainting of his heart. Saint Prix presents unto him some prunes of Brignolles and raisins of the sunne. Hee eats, and thereupon the King calls him into his Cabinet by Revoll, one of the secretaries of his Estate, as it were to confer with him about some secret of importance. The Duke leaves the Councell to passe unto the Cabinet: and as he did lift up the tapistrie with one hand to enter, they charge him with their swords, daggers, and pertuisans: yet not with so great violence, but he shewed the murtherers the last endeavours of an invincible valour and courage.

"Thus lived and thus died Henry of Lorraine, Duke of Guise: a Prince worthie to be in the first rankes of Princes, goodly, great, tall of proportion, amiable of countenance, great of courage, readie in the execution of his enterprises, popular, dissembling, but covering the secrets of his minde with his outward behaviour, imbracing all times and occasions, politike in stratagems, making much of his souldiars, and honouring his captaines. But a Prince who hath blemished the greatest beautie of his practises by extreame ambition; factious, a great bragger, vaine in beleeving of soothsayers who assured him of his greatnes, and of the change of his familie into a royaltie, proud, not able to submit his hopes, even to those from whome hee should hope for his advancement, giving men to understand by his inclination, that he was not borne to obey, but to commaund, and with this dessein, he framed the minds of the French, by his first actions, to beleeve that he had partes fit to make a strange alteration in a realme."

FOOTNOTES:

[313:1] The numbers refer to the pages of Grimeston's volume.



Bibliography

The place of publication is London unless otherwise indicated.

I. TEXTS

1607, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: A TRAGEDIE: As it hath been often presented at Paules. London, Printed for William Aspley, [B. M. C. 34. c. 12.]

1608, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: [&c. A reissue of the 1607 edition, with the date altered. B. M. 644. d. 41.]

1613, 4o. THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS. A TRAGEDIE. As it hath beene often presented at the private 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. [B. M. C. 34. c. 16.]

1641, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: A TRAGEDIE: As it hath been often Acted with great Applause. Being much corrected and amended by the Author before his death. London. Printed by A. N. for Robert Lunne. [B. M. 644. d. 42.]

1646, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: [A . . . London, as in 1641 edition.] Printed by T. W. for Robert Lunne and are to be sold at his house next doore to the signe of the Crane on Lambeth Hill at the end of old Fishstreet. [B. M. 644. d. 43. A reissue of the 1641 edition with the imprint altered.]

1657, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: A TRAGEDIE: As it hath been often Acted with great applause. Being much corrected and amended by the Author, George Chapman, Gent. Before his death. London, Printed, for Joshua Kirton, at his Shop in St. Pauls Church-yard, at the sign of the Kings-Arms. [B. M. 644. d. 44. Another reissue of the 1641 edition, with a new title-page.]

[Baker in his Biographia Dramatica (1812) II, 73, mentions an edition of Bussy D'Ambois in 1616, but no copy of such an edition has been traced, and Dilke, Old English Plays (1814) vol. III, p. 228, is probably right in considering that the entry is an error for that of 1646, which Baker does not mention.]

1691, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS OR THE HUSBANDS REVENGE. A TRAGEDY. As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal. Newly Revised by Mr. D'Urfey [quotation from the Satires of Horace]. London. Printed for R. Bently in Covent Garden, Jo. Hindmarsh over against the Royal Exchange, and Abel Roper at the Mitre near Temple Bar.

1814, 8o. OLD ENGLISH PLAYS; being a selection from the early dramatic writers. [Volume III contains Bussy D'Ambois, together with Monsieur D'Olive, and Dekker's The Wonder of a Kingdom and Old Fortunatus. A short life of Chapman is prefixed to Bussy D'Ambois. The text is that of the edition of 1641, in modernised spelling. The notes contain some of the variants in the Q of 1607, and explanations of many difficult phrases. The editor, though his name does not appear, was C. W. Dilke, afterwards editor of the Athenaeum, and grandfather of the present Sir C. W. Dilke.]

1873, 8o. THE COMEDIES AND TRAGEDIES OF GEORGE CHAPMAN. Now first collected, with illustrative notes and a memoir of the author. In three volumes. London. John Pearson York Street Covent Garden. [Vol. II contains Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois, together with Byron's Conspiracie and Tragedie and May-Day. The text of Bussy D'Ambois is, where differences of reading occur, that of the edition of 1641, the variants of 1607 being given (with some inaccuracies) at the foot of the page. Otherwise the spelling of 1607 is followed, and the title-page of the 1607 Quarto is faultily reproduced. The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois is reprinted from the 1613 Quarto, in the original spelling, and with a faulty reproduction of the title-page. The explanatory notes to both plays are very slight, but there is a valuable introductory memoir to vol. I, giving extracts from previous criticisms of Chapman.]

1874-5, 8o. THE WORKS OF GEORGE CHAPMAN: edited with notes, by Richard Herne Shepherd. [Vol. I, Plays, vol. II, Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, vol. III, Poems and Minor Translations, Chatto and Windus. An edition in modernised spelling, and with merely a sprinkling of notes. To vol. III is prefixed Mr. A. C. Swinburne's Essay on the Poetical and Dramatic Works of George Chapman, the finest and most comprehensive study of Chapman's writings.]

1895, 8o. GEORGE CHAPMAN edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by William Lyon Phelps, M.A. Ph.D. London: T. Fisher Unwin. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. [This volume of the Mermaid Series contains Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge, together with Byron's Conspiracie and Tragedie and All Fools. The text is reprinted from the edition of 1873, but with the spelling modernised. There is an introductory memoir containing an "appreciation" of Chapman as a dramatist, and brief explanatory notes are added at the foot of the text.]

II. WORKS AND ARTICLES USEFUL FOR STUDY OF THE PLAYS

1681. DEDICATION OF THE SPANISH FRIAR, J. Dryden. Reprinted in W. P. Ker's Essays of John Dryden, vol. I, pp. 244-50, Oxford, 1900.

1691. THE LIVES AND CHARACTERS OF THE ENGLISH DRAMATICK POETS, G. Langbaine. Oxford.

1691. ATHENAE OXONIENSES, Anthony a Wood: vol. II, pp. 575-81 (edition continued by Ph. Bliss, 1815). Short life of Chapman.

1808. SPECIMENS OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS, Charles Lamb. Lamb quotes the following passages from Bussy D'Ambois: II, 1, 33-135; I, 1, 5-17; I, 1, 20-23; I, 1, 134-9; I, 2, 10-33. Further extracts, together with several from The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois, were added in 1827.

1818. LECTURES ON THE DRAMATIC LITERATURE OF THE AGE OF ELIZABETH. W. Hazlitt. Lecture III, On Marston, Chapman, Decker, and Webster.

1821. THE RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW, vol. IV: Article on Chapman's Plays. This Article deals with the Tragedies and gives long extracts from Bussy D'Ambois and the two "Byron" plays. It concludes: "The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois we regret to say we have never seen. The rarity of the old plays is such, that they are only to be found in some public libraries, and in the extensive hoards of private collectors; and in such applications as we have reluctantly caused to be made, we confess, we have rather found the exclusive spirit of the monopolist, than the liberality of the enlightened lover of literature." A second Article, on the Comedies, is contained in vol. V.

1841. THE EDINBURGH REVIEW, April: Article on Beaumont and Fletcher and their Contemporaries.

1865. CHAPMAN IN SEINEM VERHAeLTNISS ZU SHAKESPEARE, F. Bodenstedt. Shakspere Jahrbuch, I, Berlin.