Bussy D'Ambois: A TRAGEDIE.
Actus primi Scena prima.
Bussy solus.
FOrtune, not Reason, rules the state of things,
Reward goes backwards, Honor on his head;
Who is not poore, is monstrous; only Need
Giues forme & worth to euery humane seed.
As Cedars beaten with incessant stormes,
So great men flourish; and doe imitate
Vnskilfull statuaries, who suppose
(In forging a Colossus) if they make him
Stroddle enough, stroote, and looke big, and gape,
Their worke is goodly: so our Tympanouse statists
(In their affected grauitie of voice,
Sowernesse of countenance, maners crueltie,
Authoritie, wealth, and all the spawne of Fortune)
Thinke they beare all the kingdomes worth before them;
Yet differ not from those Colossicke Statues,
Which with Heroique formes, without o'respread,
Within are nought but morter, flint and lead.
Man is a Torch borne in the winde; a Dreame
But of a shadow, summ'd with all his substance;
And as great Seamen vsing all their powers
And skils in Neptunes deepe inuisible pathes,
In tall ships richly built and ribd with brasse,
To put a Girdle round about the world,
When they haue done it (comming neere their Hauen)
Are glad to giue a warning peece, and call
A poore staid fisher-man, that neuer past
His Contries sight, to waft and guide them in:
So when we wander furthest through the waues
Of Glassie Glorie and the Gulfes of State,
Topt with all Titles, spreading all our reaches,
As if each priuate Arme would sphere the world;
Wee must to vertue for her guide resort,
Or wee shall shipwracke in our safest Port.
Procumbit.
Monsieur with two Pages.
There is no second place in Numerous State
That holds more than a Cypher: In a King
All places are contain'd. His words and lookes
Are like the flashes and the bolts of Ioue,
His deedes inimitable, like the Sea
That shuts still as it opes, and leaues no tracts,
Nor prints of President for poore mens facts:
There's but a Thred betwixt me and a Croune;
I would not wish it cut, vnlesse by nature;
Yet to prepare mee for that likely Fortune,
Tis fit I get resolued spirits about mee.
I followd D'Ambois to this greene Retreat;
A man of spirit beyond the reach of feare,
Who (discontent with his neglected worth)
Neglects the light, and loues obscure Abodes;
But he is yoong and haughtie, apt to take
Fire at aduancement, to beare state and flourish;
In his Rise therefore shall my bounties shine:
None lothes the world so much, nor loues to scoffe it,
But gold and grace will make him surfet of it.
What, D'Ambois?
Buss.
He sir.
Mons.
Turn'd to Earth, aliue?
Vp man, the Sunne shines on thee.
Buss.
Let it shine.
I am no mote to play in't, as great men are.
Mons.
Think'st thou men great in state, motes in the sunne?
They say so that would haue thee freeze in shades,
That (like the grosse Sicilian Gurmundist)
Emptie their Noses in the Cates they loue,
That none may eat but they. Do thou but bring
Light to the Banquet Fortune sets before thee,
And thou wilt loth leane Darkenesse like thy Death.
Who would beleeue thy Mettall could let sloth
Rust and consume it? If Themistocles
Had liued obscur'd thus in th'Athenian state,
Xerxes had made both him and it his slaues.
If braue Camillus had lurckt so in Rome,
He had not fiue times beene dictator there,
Nor foure times triumpht. If Epaminondas
(Who liu'd twice twentie yeeres obscur'd in Thebs)
Had liu'd so still, he had beene still vnnam'd,
And paid his Countrie nor himselfe their right:
But putting foorth his strength, he rescude both
From imminent ruine; and like Burnisht Steele,
After long vse he shin'd; for as the light
Not only serues to shew, but render vs
Mutually profitable; so our liues
In acts exemplarie, not only winne
Our selues good Names, but doth to others giue
Matter for vertuous Deedes, by which wee liue.
Buss.
What would you wish me doe?
Mons.
Leaue the troubled streames,
And liue as Thriuers doe at the Well head.
Buss.
At the Well head? Alas what should I doe
With that enchanted Glasse? See diuels there?
Or (like a strumpet) learne to set my lookes
In an eternall Brake, or practise iuggling,
To keepe my face still fast, my hart still loose;
Or beare (like Dames Schoolemistresses their Riddles)
Two Tongues, and be good only for a shift;
Flatter great Lords, to put them still in minde
Why they were made Lords: or please portly Ladies
With a good carriage, tell them idle Tales,
To make their Physicke worke; spend a mans life
In sights and visitations, that will make
His eies as hollow as his Mistresse heart:
To doe none good, but those that haue no neede;
To gaine being forward, though you breake for haste
All the Commandements ere you breake your fast?
But Beleeue backewards, make your Period
And Creedes last Article; I beleeue in God:
And (hearing villanies preacht) t' vnfold their Art
Learne to commit them, Tis a great mans Part.
Shall I learne this there?
Mons.
No, thou needst not learne,
Thou hast the Theorie, now goe there and practise.
Buss.
I, in a thridbare suit; when men come there,
They must haue high Naps, and goe from thence bare:
A man may drowne the parts often rich men
In one poore suit; Braue Barks, and outward Glosse
Attract Court eies, be in parts ne're so grosse.
Mons.
Thou shalt haue Glosse enough, and all things fit
T'enchase in all shew, thy long smothered spirit:
Be rul'd by me then. The rude Scythians
Painted blinde Fortunes powerfull hands with wings,
To shew her gifts come swift and suddenly,
Which if her Fauorite be not swift to take,
He loses them foreuer. Then be rul'd:
Exit Mons. Manet Buss.
Stay but a while heere, and I'le send to thee.
Buss.
What will he send? some Crounes? It is to sow them
Vpon my spirit, and make them spring a Croune
Worth Millions of the feede Crounes he will send:
But hee's no husband heere; A smooth plaine ground
Will neuer nourish any politicke seede;
I am for honest Actions, not for great:
If I may bring vp a new fashion,
And rise in Court with vertue; speede his plow:
The King hath knowne me long as well as hee,
Yet could my Fortune neuer fit the length
Of both their vnderstandings till this houre.
There is a deepe nicke in times restlesse wheele
For each mans good, when which nicke comes it strikes;
As Rhetoricke, yet workes not perswasion,
But only is a meane to make it worke:
So no man riseth by his reall merit,
But when it cries Clincke in his Raisers spirit:
Many will say, that cannot rise at all,
Mans first houres rise, is first steppe to his fall.
Il'e venture that; men that fall low must die,
As well as men cast headlong from the skie.
Ent. Maffe.
Humor of Princes. Is this man indu'd
With any merit worth a thousand Crounes?
Will my Lord haue me be so ill a Steward
Of his Reuenue, to dispose a summe
So great with so small cause as shewes in him?
I must examine this: Is your name D'Ambois?
Buss.
Sir.
Maff.
Is your name D'Ambois?
Buss.
Who haue wee heere?
Serue you the Monsieur?
Maff.
How?
Buss.
Serue you the Monsieur?
Maff.
Sir, y'are very hot. I serue the Monsieur;
But in such place as giues me the Command
Of all his other seruants: And because
His Graces pleasure is, to giue your good
A Passe through my Command; Methinks you might
Vse me with more good fashion.
Buss.
Crie you mercie.
Now you haue opened my dull eies, I see you;
And would be glad to see the good you speake of:
What might I call your name?
Maff.
Monsieur Maffe.
Buss.
Monsieur Maffe? Then good Monsieur Maffe,
Pray let me know you better.
Maff.
Pray doe so,
That you may vse me better, For your selfe,
By your no better outside, I would iudge you
To be a Poet; Haue you giuen my Lord
Some Pamphlet?
Buss.
Pamphlet?
Maff.
Pamphlet sir, I say.
Buss.
Did his wise excellencie leaue the good
That is to passe your charge, to my poore vse,
To your discretion?
Maff.
Though he did not sir,
I hope tis no bad office to aske reason,
How that his grace giues mee in charge, goes from me?
Buss.
That's very perfect sir.
Maff.
Why very good sir;
I pray then giue me leaue: If for no Pamphlet,
May I not know what other merit in you,
Makes his compunction willing to relieue you?
Buss.
No merit in the world sir.
Maff.
That is strange.
Y'are a poore souldier, are you?
Buss.
That I am sir.
Maff.
And haue Commanded?
Buss.
I, and gone without sir.
Maff.
I see the man: A hundred Crounes will make him
Swagger, and drinke healths to his highnes bountie;
And sweare he could not be more bountifull.
So ther's nine hundred Crounes, saft; heere tall souldier,
His grace hath sent you a whole hundred Crounes.
Buss.
A hundred sire naie doe his Highnes right;
I know his hand is larger, and perhaps
I may deserue more than my outside shewes:
I am a scholar, as I am a souldier,
And I can Poetise; and (being well encourag'd)
May sing his Fame for giuing; yours for deliuering
(Like a most faithfull Steward) what he giues.
Maff.
What shall your subiect be?
Buss.
I care not much,
If to his excellence I sing the praise
Of faire great Noses, And to your Deserts
The reuerend vertues of a faithfull Steward;
What Qualities haue you sir (beside your chaine
And veluet Iacket) Can your worship dance?
Maff.
A merrie Fellow faith: It seemes my Lord
Will haue him for his Iester; And beleeue it,
Such men are now no fooles, Tis a Knights place:
If I (to saue my Lord some Crounes) should vrge him
T'abate his Bountie, I should not be heard;
I would to heauen I were an errant Asse,
For then I should be sure to haue the Eares
Of these great men, where now their Iesters haue them:
Tis good to please him, yet Ile take no notice
Of his preferment, but in policie
Will still be graue and serious, lest he thinke
I feare his wodden dagger: Heere sir Ambo,
A thousand Crounes I bring you from my Lord;
Serue God, play the good husband, you may make
This a good standing liuing, Tis a Bountie,
His Highnes might perhaps haue bestow'd better.
D'Amb.
Goe, y'are a Rascall; hence, Away you Rogue.
Maff.
What meane you sir?
D'Amb.
Hence; prate no more;
Or by thy villans blood thou prat'st thy last:
A Barbarous Groome, grudge at his masters Bountie:
But since I know he would as much abhorre
His hinde should argue what he giues his friend,
Take that Sir, for your aptnesse to dispute.
Exit.
Maff.
These Crounes are sown in blood, blood be their fruit.
Exit.
Henry, Guise, Montsurry, Elenor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Pyr, Annable.
Henr.
Dutchesse of Guise, your Grace is much enricht,
In the attendance of this English virgin,
That will initiate her Prime of youth,
(Dispos'd to Court conditions) vnder hand
Of your preferd instructions and Command,
Rather than anie in the English Court,
Whose Ladies are not matcht in Christendome,
For gracefull and confirm'd behauiours;
More than the Court, where they are bred is equall'd.
Guis.
I like not their Court forme, it is too crestfalne,
In all obseruance; making Semi-gods
Of their great Nobles; and of their old Queene
An euer-yoong, and most immortall Goddesse.
Henr.
Assure you Cosen Guise, so great a Courtier,
So full of maiestie and Roiall parts,
No Queene in Christendome may boast her selfe,
Her Court approoues it, Thats a Court indeede;
Not mixt with Rudenesse vs'd in common houses;
But, as Courts should be th'abstracts of their kingdomes,
In all the Beautie, State, and Worth they hold;
So is hers, amplie, and by her inform'd.
The world is not contracted in a man,
With more proportion and expression
Than in her Court, her Kingdome: Our French Court
Is a meere mirror of confusion to it:
The King and subiect, Lord and euerie slaue
Dance a continuall Haie; Our Roomes of State,
Kept like our stables; No place more obseru'd
Than a rude Market place: And though our Custome
Keepe this assur'd deformitie from our sight,
Tis nere the lesse essentiallie vnsightlie,
Which they would soone see, would they change their forme
To this of ours, and then compare them both;
Which we must not affect, because in Kingdomes,
Where the Kings change doth breede the Subiects terror,
Pure Innouation is more grosse than error.
Mont.
No Question we shall see them imitate
(Though a farre off) the fashions of our Courts,
As they haue euer Ap't vs in attire;
Neuer were men so wearie of their Skins,
And apt to leape out of themselues as they;
Who when they trauell to bring foorth rare men,
Come home deliuered of a fine French suit:
Their Braines lie with their Tailors, and get babies
For their most compleat issue; Hee's first borne
To all the morall vertues, that first greetes
The light with a new fashion, which becomes them
Like Apes, disfigur'd with the attires of men.
Henr.
No Question they much wrong their reall worth,
In affectation of outlandish Scumme;
But they haue faults, and wee; They foolish-proud,
To be the Pictures of our vanitie;
We proud, that they are proud of foolerie.
Enter Monsieur, D'Ambois.
Mons.
Come mine owne sweet heart I will enter thee.
Sir, I haue brought this Gentleman t'attend you;
And pray, you would vouchsafe to doe him grace.
Henr.
D'Ambois, I thinke.
D'Amb.
Thats still my name, my Lord, though I be something altered in attire.
Henr.
I like your alteration, and must tell you,
I haue expected th'offer of your seruice;
For we (in feare to make milde vertue proud)
Vse not to seeke her out in any man.
D'Amb.
Nor doth she vse to seeke out any man:
He that will winne, must wooe her; shee's not shamelesse.
Mons.
I vrg'd her modestie in him, my Lord, and gaue her those Rites, that he saies shee merits.
Henr.
If you haue woo'd and won, then Brother weare him.
Mons.
Th'art mine, my loue; See here's the Guises Duches. The Countesse of Mountsurreaue; Beaupres, come I'le enseame thee; Ladies, y'are too many to be in Counsell: I haue heere a friend, that I would gladlie enter in your Graces.
Duch.
If you enter him in our Graces, me thinks by his blunt behauiour, he should come out of himselfe.
Tam.
Has he neuer beene Courtier, my Lord?
Mons.
Neuer, my Ladie.
Beaup.
And why did the Toy take him in th'head now?
D'Amb.
Tis leape yeere, Ladie, and therefore verie good to
enter a Courtier.
Tam.
The man's a Courtier at first sight.
D'Amb.
I can sing prickesong, Ladie, at first sight; and why not be a Courtier as suddenly?
Beaup.
Heere's a Courtier rotten before he be ripe.
D'Amb.
Thinke mee not impudent, Ladie, I am yet no Courtier, I desire to be one, and would gladly take entrance (Madam) vnder your Princely Colours.
Gui.
Sir, know you me?
D'Amb.
My Lord?
Gui.
I know not you: Whom doe you serue?
D'Amb.
Serue, my Lord?
Gui.
Go to Companion; Your Courtship's too saucie.
D'Amb.
Saucie? Companion? Tis the Guise, but yet those termes might haue beene spar'd of the Guiserd.
Companion? Hee's iealous by this light: are you blinde of that side Sir? Ile to her againe for that. Forth Madam, for the honour of Courtship.
Gui.
Cease your Courtshippe, or by heauen Ile cut your throat.
D'Amb.
Cut my throat? cut a whetstone; good Accius Noeuius, doe as much with your tongue as he did with a Rasor; cut my throat?
Gui.
Ile doe't by this hand.
D'Amb.
That hand dares not doe't; y'aue cut too many
Throates alreadie Guise; and Robb'd the Realme of
Many thousand Soules, more precious than thine owne.
Come Madam, talke on; Sfoote, can you not talke?
Talke on I say, more Courtship, as you loue it.
Enter Barrisor, L' Anou, Pyrlot.
Bar.
What new-come Gallant haue wee heere, that dares mate the Guise thus?
L' An.
Sfoote tis D'Ambois; The Duke mistakes him (on my life) for some Knight of the new edition.
D'Amb.
Cut my throat? I would the King fear'd thy cutting of his throat no more than I feare thy cutting of mine.
Gui.
So Sir, so.
Pyr.
Heere's some strange distemper.
Bar.
Heere's a sudden transmigration with D'Ambois, out of the Knights ward, into the Duches bed.
L'An.
See what a Metamorphosis a braue suit can worke.
Pyr.
Slight step to the Guise and discouer him.
Bar.
By no meanes, let the new suit worke, wee'll see the issue.
Gui.
Leaue your Courtship.
D'Amb.
I will not. I say mistresse, and I will stand vnto it, that if a woman may haue three seruants, a man may haue threescore mistresses.
Gui.
Sirha, Ile haue you whipt out of the Court for this insolence.
D'Amb.
Whipt? Such another syllable out a th' presence, if thou dar'st for thy Dukedome.
Gui.
Remember, Poultron.
Mons.
Pray thee forbeare.
Buss.
Passion of death! Were not the King heere, he should strow the Chamber like a rush.
Mons.
But leaue Courting his wife then.
Buss.
I will not: Ile Court her in despight of him▪ Not Court her! Come Madam, talke on; Feare me nothing: Well maist thou driue thy master from the Court; but neuer D'Ambois.
Mons.
His great heart will not downe, tis like the Sea
That partly by his owne internall heat,
Partly the starr's dailie and nightly motion,
Ardor and light, and partly of the place,
The diuers frames; And chiefly by the Moone,
Bristled with surges, neuer will be wonne,
(No, not when th'hearts of all those powers are burst)
To make retreat into his setled home,
Till he be croun'd with his owne quiet fome.
Henr.
You haue the mate. Another.
Gui.
No more.
Exit Guise, after him the King, Mons. whispering.
Bar.
Why heer's the Lion, skard with the throat of a dunghill Cocke; a fellow that has newlie shak'd off his shackles;
Now does he crow for that victorie.
L' An.
Tis one of the best Iigges that euer was acted.
Pry.
Whom does the Guise suppose him to be troe?
L' An.
Out of doubt, some new denizond Lord; and thinks that suit come new out a th' Mercers bookes.
Bar.
I haue heard of a fellow, that by a fixt imagination looking vpon a Bulbaiting, had a visible paire of hornes grew out of his forhead: and I beleeue this Gallant ouerioied with the conceit of Monsieurs cast suit, imagines himselfe to be the Monsieur.
L' An
And why not? as well as the Asse, stalking in the Lions case, beare himselfe like a Lion, roaring all the huger beasts out of the Forrest?
Pry.
Peace, he lookes this way.
Bar.
Marrie let him looke sir, what will you say now if the Guise be gone to fetch a blanquet for him?
L' An.
Faith I beleeue it for his honour.
Pyr.
But, if D'Ambois carrie it cleane?
Bar.
True, when he curuets in the blanquet.
Pyr.
I marie sir.
L' An.
Sfoote, see how he stares on's.
Bar.
Lord blesse vs, let's away.
Buss.
Now sir, take your full view: how does the Obiect please ye?
Bar.
If you aske my opinion sir, I thinke your suit sits as well as if't had beene made for you.
Buss.
So sir, and was that the subiect of your ridiculous ioilitie?
L' An.
What's that to you sir?
Buss.
Sir, I haue obseru'd all your fleerings; and resolue your selues yee shall giue a strickt account for't.
Enter Brisac Melynell.
Pyr.
O strange credulitie! Doe you thinke your selfe Such a singular subiect for laughter, that none can fall into Our meriment but you?
Bar.
This iealousie of yours sir, confesses some close defect in your selfe, that wee neuer dream'd of.
L An.
We held discourse of a perfum'd Asse, that being disguis'd with a Lions case, imagin'd himselfe a Lion: I hope that toucht not you.
Buss.
So sir: Your descants doe maruellous well fit this ground, wee shall meete where your Buffonly laughters will cost ye the best blood in your bodies.
Bar.
For lifes sake let's be gone; hee'll kill's outright.
Buss.
Goe at your pleasures, Ile be your Ghost to haunt you, and yee sleepe an't, hang mee.
L' An.
Goe, goe sir, Court your mistresse.
Pyr.
And be aduis'd: we shall haue odds against you.
Buss.
Tush, valour stands not in number: Ile maintaine it, that one man may beat three boies.
Bris.
Nay you shall haue no ods of him in number sir: hee's a gentleman as good as the proudest of you, and yee shall not wrong him.
Bar.
Not sir.
Mely.
Not sir: Though he be not so rich, hee's a better man than the best of you; And I will not endure it.
L' An.
Not you sir?
Bris.
No sir, nor I.
Buss.
I should thanke you for this kindnesse, if I thought these perfum'd muske-Cats (being out of this priuiledge) durst but once mew at vs.
Bar.
Does your confident spirit doubt that sir? Come follow vs and trie.
L'An.
Come sir, wee'll lead you a dance.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus primi.
Actus Tertij Scena Prima.
Bucy, Tamyra.
Tam.
O My deare seruant, in thy close embraces,
I haue set open all the dores of danger
To my encompast honor, and my life:
Before I was secure against death and hell;
But now am subiect to the hartlesse feare:
Of euery shadow, and of euery breath,
And would change firmnesse with an aspen leafe:
So confident a spotlesse conscience is;
So weake a guilty: O the daugerous siege
Sin laies about vs? and the tyranny
He exercises when he hath expugn'd:
Like to the horror of a winters thunder,
Mixt with a gushing storme, that suffer nothing
To stirre abroad on earth, but their own rages;
Is sin, when it hath gathered head aboue vs:
No roofe, no shelter can secure vs so,
But he will drowne our cheeks in feare or woe.
Buc.
Sin is a coward Madam, and insults
But on our weaknesse, in his truest valour:
And so our ignorance tames vs, that we let
His shadowes fright vs: and like empty clouds
In which our faulty apprehensions fordge
The formes of Dragons, Lions, Elephants,
When they hold no proportion: the slie charmes
Of the witch policy makes him, like a monster
Kept onely to shew men for Goddesse money:
That false hagge often paints him: in her cloth
Ten times more monstrous than he is in troth:
In three of vs, the secret of our meeting,
Is onely guarded, and three friends as one
Haue euer beene esteem'd: as our three powers
That in our one soule, are, as one vnited:
Why should we feare then? for my truth I sweare
Sooner shall torture, be the Sire to pleasure,
And health be grieuous to men long time sicke,
Than the deare iewell of your fame in me,
Be made an outcast to your infamy;
Nor shall my value (sacred to your vertues)
Onely giue free course to it, from my selfe:
But make it flie out of the mouths of kings
In golden vapours, and with awfull wings.
Tam.
It rests as all kings seales were set in thee.
Exit D' Amb. Manet Tamy.
Ta.
It is not I, but vrgent destiny,
That (as great states men for their generall end
In politique iustice, make poore men offend)
Enforceth my offence to make it iust:
What shall weake Dames doe, when t'whole worke of Nature
Hath a strong finger in each one of vs?
Needs must that sweep away the silly cobweb
Of our still-vndone labours; that laies still
Our powers to it: as to the line, the stone,
Not to the stone, the line should be oppos'd;
We cannot keepe our constant course in vertue:
What is alike at all parts? euery day
Differs from other: euery houre and minute:
I, euery thought in our false clock of life,
Oft times inuerts the whole circumference:
We must be sometimes one, sometimes another:
Our bodies are but thicke clouds to our soules;
Through which they cannnot shine when they desire:
When all the starres, and euen the sunne himselfe,
Must stay the vapors times that he exhales
Before he can make good his beames to vs:
O how can we, that are but motes to him,
VVandring at randon in his orderd rayes,
Disperse our passions fumes, with our weake labors,
That are more thick & black than all earths vapors?
Enter Mont.
Mon.
Good day, my loue: what vp and ready too!
Tam.
Both, (my deare Lord) not all this night made I
My selfe vnready, or could sleepe a winke.
Mont.
Ahlasse, what troubled my true loue? my peace,
From being at peace within her better selfe?
Or how could sleepe forbeare to sease thy beauties
VVhen he might challenge them as his iust prise?
Tam.
I am in no powre earthly, but in yours;
To what end should I goe to bed my Lord,
That wholly mist the comfort of my bed?
Or how should sleepe possesse my faculties,
VVanting the proper closer of mine eies?
Mont.
Then will I neuer more sleepe night from thee:
All mine owne Businesse, all the Kings affaires
Shall take the day to serue them: Euerie night
Ile euer dedicate to thy delight.
Tam.
Nay, good my Lord esteeme not my desires
Such doters on their humours, that my iudgement
Cannot subdue them to your worthier pleasure:
A wiues pleas'd husband must her obiect be
In all her acts, not her sooth'd fantasie.
Mont.
Then come my loue, Now pay those Rites to sleepe
Thy faire eies owe him: shall we now to bed?
Tam.
O no my Lord, your holy Frier saies,
All couplings in the day that touch the bed,
Adulterous are, euen in the married;
Whose graue and worthie doctrine, well I know,
Your faith in him will liberally allow.
Mont.
Hee's a most learned and Religious man;
Come to the Presence then, and see great D'Ambois
(Fortunes proud mushrome shot vp in a night)
Stand like an Atlas vnderneath the King;
Which greatnesse with him Monsieur now enuies
As bitterly and deadly as the Guise.
Tam.
What, he that was but yesterday his maker?
His raiser and preseruer?
Mont.
Euen the same.
Each naturall agent workes but to this end,
To render that it works on, like it selfe;
Which since the Monsieur in his act on D'Ambois,
Cannot to his ambitious end effect,
But that (quite opposite) the King hath power
(In his loue borne to D'Ambois) to conuert
The point of Monsieurs aime on his owne breast,
He turnes his outward loue to inward hate:
A Princes loue is like the lightnings fume,
Which no man can embrace, but must consume.
Exeunt.
Henry, D'Ambois, Monsieur, Guise, Monts. Elenor, Tam. Pero.
Henr.
Speake home my Bussy, thy impartiall wordes
Are like braue Faulcons that dare trusse a Fowle
Much greater than themselues; Flatterers are Kites
That checke at nothing; thou shalt be my Eagle,
And beare my thunder vnderneath thy wings:
Truths words like iewels hang in th'eares of Kings.
Buss.
Would I might liue to see no Iewes hang there
In steede of iewels; sycophants I meane,
Who vse truth like the Diuell, his true Foe
Cast by the Angell to the pit of feares,
And bound in chaines; truth seldome decks Kings eares:
Slaue flatterie (like a Rippiers legs rowl'd vp
In bootes of haie-ropes) with Kings soothed guts
Swadled and strappl'd, now liues only free.
O tis a subtle knaue; how like the plague
Vnfelt, he strikes into the braine of truth,
And rageth in his entrailes when he can,
Worse than the poison of a red hair'd man.
Henr.
Flie at him and his broode, I cast thee off,
And once more giue thee surname of mine Eagle.
Buss.
Ile make you sport enough then, let me haue
My lucerns too (or dogges inur'd to hunt
Beasts of most rapine) but to put them vp,
And if I trusse not, let me not be trusted:
Shew me a great man (by the peoples voice,
Which is the voice of God) that by his greatnesse
Bumbasts his priuate roofes, with publique riches;
That affects royaltie, rising from a clapdish;
That rules so much more than his suffering King,
That he makes kings of his subordinate slaues:
Himselfe and them graduate like woodmongers
(Piling a stacke of billets) from the earth,
Raising each other into steeples heights;
Let him conuey this on the turning proppes
Of Protean Law, and (his owne counsell keeping)
Keepe all vpright; let me but Hawlke at him,
Ile play the Vulture, and so thumpe his liuer,
That (like a huge vnlading Argosea)
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
Shew me a Clergie man, that is in voice
A Larke of Heauen; in heart a Mowle of earth;
That hath good liuing, and a wicked life;
A temperate looke, and a luxurious gut;
Turning the rents of his superfluous Cures
Into your Phesants and your Partriches;
Venting their Quintessence as men read Hebrew:
Let me but hawlke at him, and, like the other,
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
Shew me a Lawyer that turnes sacred law
(The equall rendrer of each man his owne,
The scourge of Rapine and Extortion,
The Sanctuarie and impregnable defence
Of retir'd learning, and oppressed vertue)
Into a Harpye, that eates all but's owne,
Into the damned sins it punisheth;
Into the Synagogue of theeues and Atheists;
Blood into gold, and iustice into lust:
Let me but hawlke at him, as at the tother,
He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
Gui.
Where will you finde such game as you would hawlke at?
Buss.
Ile hawlke about your house for one of them.
Gui.
Come, y'are a glorious Ruffin, and runne proud
Of the Kings headlong graces; hold your breath,
Or by that poison'd vapour not the King
Shall backe your murtherous valour against me.
Buss.
I would the King would make his presence free
But for one charge betwixt vs: By the reuerence
Due to the sacred space twixt kings and subiects,
Heere would I make thee cast that popular purple,
In which thy proud soule sits and braues thy soueraigne.
Mons.
Peace, peace, I pray thee peace.
Buss.
Let him peace first that made the first warre.
Mons.
Hee's the better man.
Buss.
And therefore may doe worst?
Mons.
He has more titles.
Buss.
So Hydra had more heads.
Mons.
Hee's greater knowne.
Buss.
His greatnesse is the peoples, mine's mine owne.
Mons.
Hee's noblie borne.
Buss.
He is not, I am noble.
And noblesse in his blood hath no gradation,
But in his merit.
Gui.
Th'art not nobly borne,
But bastard to the Cardinall of Ambois.
Buss.
Thou liest proud Guiserd; let me flie (my Lord.)
Henr.
Not in my face; (my Eagle) violence flies
The Sanctuaries of a Princes eies.
Buss.
Still shall we chide? and some vpon this bit?
Is the Guise only great in faction?
Stands he not by himselfe? Prooues he th'Opinion
That mens soules are without them? Be a Duke,
And lead me to the field.
Guis.
Come, follow me.
Henr.
Stay them, stay D'Ambois; Cosen Guise, I wonder
Your equall disposition brookes so ill
A man so good, that only would vphold
Man in his natiue noblesse, from whose fall
All our dissentions rise; that in himselfe
(Without the outward patches of our frailtie,
Riches and honour) knowes he comprehends
Worth with the greatest: Kings had neuer borne
Such boundlesse eminence ouer other men,
Had all maintain'd the spirit and state of D'Ambois;
Nor had the full impartiall hand of nature
That all things gaue in her originall,
Without these definite terms of Mine and Thine,
Beene turn'd vniustly to the hand of Fortune:
Had all preseru'd her in her prime, like D'Ambois;
No enuie, no disiunction had dissolu'd,
Or pluck'd out one sticke of the golden fagot,
In which the world of Saturne was compris'd,
Had all beene held together with the nerues,
The genius and th'ingenuous soule of D'Ambois.
Let my hand therefore be the Hermean rodde
To part and reconcile, and so conserue you,
As my combin'd embracers and supporters.
Buss.
Tis our Kings motion, and wee shall not seeme
(To worst eies) womanish, though wee change thus soone
Neuer so great grudge for his greater pleasure.
Gui.
I seale to that, and so the manly freedome
That you so much professe, heereafter prooue not
A bold and glorious licence to depraue:
To mee his hand shall prooue the Hermean rodde
His grace affects, in which submissiue signe
On this his sacred right hand, I lay mine.
Buss.
Tis well my Lord, and so your worthie greatnesse
Engender not the greater insolence,
Nor make you thinke it a Prerogatiue,
To racke mens freedomes with the ruder wrongs;
My hand (stucke full of lawrell, in true signe
Tis wholly dedicate to righteous peace)
In all submission kisseth th'other side.
Hen.
Thankes to ye both: and kindly I inuite ye
Both to a banquet where weele sacrifice
Full cups to confirmation of yours loues;
At which (faire Ladies) I entreat your presence.
Exeunt Henry, D'Amb. Ely. Ta.
Mons.
What had my bounty drunke when it rais'd him?
Gui.
Y'ane stucke vs vp a very proper flag
That takes more winde than we with all our sailes.
Mons.
O so he spreds and flourishes.
Gui.
He must downe,
Vpstarts should neuer perch too neere a crowne.
Mons.
Tis true my Lord; and as this doting hand,
Euen out of earth, (like Iuno) strooke this giant,
So Ioues great ordinance shalbe heere implide
To strike him vnder th'Aetna of his pride:
To which worke lend your hands and let vs cast
Where we may set snares for his gadding greatnes.
I thinke it best, amongst our greatest women:
For there is no such trap to catch an vpstart
As a loose downfall; and indeed their fals
Are th'ends of all mens rising: if great men
And wise; make scapes to please aduantage
Tis with a woman: women that woorst may
Still hold mens candles: they direct and know
All things amisse in all men; and their women
All things amisse in them: through whose charmd mouthes
We may see all the close scapes of the Court:
When the most royall beast of chace (being old,
And cunning in his choice of layres and haunts)
Can neuer be discouered to the bow
The peece or hound: yet where his custome is
To beat his vault, and he ruts with his hinde,
The place is markt, and by his Venery
He still is taken. Shall we then attempt
The chiefest meane to that discouery heere,
And court our greatest Ladies greatest women,
With shews of loue, and liberall promises?
Tis but our breath. If something giuen in hand,
Sharpen their hopes of more; twilbe well venterd.
Gui.
No doubt of that: and tis an excellent point
Of our deuis'd inuestigation.
Mons.
I haue already broke the ice, my Lord,
With the most trusted woman of your Countesse,
And hope I shall wade through to our discouery,
Mont.
Take say of her my Lord, she comes most fitly
And we will to the other.
Enter Charlot, Anable, Pero.
Gui.
Y'are engag'd.
An.
Nay pray my Lord forbeare.
Mont.
What skittish, seruant?
An.
No my Lord I am not so fit for your seruice:
Char.
Pray pardon me now my Lord? my Lady expects me.
Gui.
Ile satisfie her expectation, as far as an vnkle may.
Mons.
Well said: a s pirt of Courtship of all hands:
Now mine owne Pero: hast thou remembred mee
For the discouery I entreated thee to make concerning
Thy Mistresse? speak boldly, and be sure of all things I haue promised.
Pero.
Building on that you haue sworne (my Lord) I may speake: and much the rather, because my Lady hath not trusted me with that I can tell you; for now I cannot be said to betray her.
Mons.
That's all one: so it bee not to one that will betray thee: foorth I beseech thee.
Per.
To tell you truth, my Lord, I haue made a strange discouery.
Mons.
Excellent Pero thou reuiu'st me: may I sincke quicke into earth heere, if my tongue discouer it.
Per.
Tis thus then: This last night my Lord lay foorth: and I wondring my Ladies sitting vp, stole at midnight from my pallat: and (hauing before made a hole both through the wall and arras to her inmost chamber) I saw D'Ambois and she set close at a banquet.
Mons.
D'Ambois?
Per.
Euen he my Lord.
Mons.
Dost thou not dreame wench?
Per.
No my Lord, he is the man.
Mons.
The diuell he is, and thy Lady his dam: infinite regions
betwixt a womans tongue and her heart: is this our Goddesse of chastity? I thought I could not be so sleighted: if shee had not her freight besides: and therefore plotted this with her woman: deare Pero I will aduance thee for euer: but tell mee now: Gods pretious it transformes me with admiration: sweet Pero, whom should she trust with his conueiance? Or, all the doores being made sure, how could his conueiance bee performed?
Per.
Nay my Lord, that amazes me: I cannot by any study so much as guesse at it.
Mons.
Well, lets fauour our apprehensions with forbearing that a little: for if my heart were not hoopt with adamant, the conceipt of this would haue burst it: but hearke thee.
Char.
I sweare to your Grace, all that I can coniecture touching my Lady your Neece, is a strong affection she beares to the English Mylor.
Gui.
All quod you? tis enough I assure you, but tell me.
Mont.
I pray thee resolue me: the Duke will neuer imagine that I am busie about's wife: hath D'Ambois any priuy accesse to her?
An.
No my Lord, D'Ambois neglects her (as she takes it) and is therefore suspicious that either your Lady, or the Countesse Beaupre hath closely entertaind him.
Mont.
Ber lady a likely suspition, and very neere the life, if she marks it; especially of my wife.
Mons.
Come we'l put off all, with seeming onely to haue courted; away drie palme: sh'as a liuer as hard as a bisket: a man may goe a whole voyage with her, and get nothing but tempests at her windpipe.
Gui.
Heer's one: (I thinke) has swallowd a porcupine, she casts pricks from her tongue so.
Mont.
And heer's a peacock seemes to haue deuourd one of the Alpes, she has so swelling a spirit, and is so cold of her kindnesse.
Char.
We be no windfals my Lord; ye must gather vs with the ladder of matrimony, or we'l hang till we be rotten.
Mons.
Indeed that's the way to make ye right openarses. But ahlas ye haue no portions fit for such husbands as we wish you.
Per.
Portions my Lord, yes and such portions as your principality cannot purchase.
Mons.
What woman? what are those portions?
Per.
Riddle my riddle my Lord.
Mons.
I marry wench, I thinke thy portion is a right riddle, a man shall neuer finde it out: but lets heare it.
Per.
You shall my Lord.
What's that, that being most rar's most cheape?
That if you sow, you neuer reape?
That when it growes most, most you in it?
And still you lose it when you win it:
That when tis commonest, tis dearest,
And when tis farthest off'tis neerest?
Mons.
Is this your portion?
Per.
Euen this my Lord.
Mons.
Beleeue me I cannot riddle it.
Per.
No my Lord, tis my chastity, which you shall neither riddle nor fiddle.
Mons.
Your chastity? let me begin with the end of you; how is a womans chastitie neerest a man, when tis furthest off?
Per.
Why my Lord, when you cannot get it, it goes toth' heart on you; and that I thinke comes most neere you: and I am sure it shall bee farre enough off; and so I leaue you to my mercy.
Exit.
Mons.
Farewell riddle.
Gui.
Farewell Medlar.
Mont.
Farewell winter plum.
Mons.
Now my Lords, what fruit of our inquisition? feele you nothing budding yet? Speake good my Lord Mountsurry.
Mont.
Nothing but this: D'Ambois is negligent in obseruing the Duchesse, and therefore she is suspicious that your Neece or my wife closely entertaines him.
Mons.
Your wife, my Lord? Thinke you that possible?
Mont.
Alas, I know she flies him like her last houre.
Mons.
Her last houre? why that comes vpon her the more she flies it: Does D'Ambois so thinke you?
Mont.
Thats not worth the answering: Tis horrible to think with what monsters womens imaginations engrosse them
when they are once enamour'd, and what wonders they will worke for their satisfaction. They will make a sheepe valiant, a Lion fearefull.
Mons.
And an Asse confident, my Lord, tis true, and more
will come forth shortly, get you to the banquet.
Exit Guise cum Mont.
O the vnfounded Sea of womens bloods,
That when tis calmest, is most dangerous;
Not any wrincle creaming in their faces,
When in their hearts are Scylla and Charibdis,
Which still are hid in monster-formed cloudes,
Where neuer day shines, nothing euer growes,
But weeds and poisons, that no states-man knowes;
Not Cerberus euer saw the damned nookes
Hid with the vailes of womens vertuous lookes:
I will conceale all yet, and giue more time
To D'Ambois triall, now vpon my hooke;
He awes my throat; else like Sybillas Caue
It should breath oracles; I feare him strangely,
And may resemble his aduanced valour
Vnto a spirit rais'd without a circle,
Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him,
And for whose furie he hath learn'd no limit.
Enter D'Ambois.
Mons.
How now, what leap'st thou at?
D'Amb.
O royall obiect.
Mons.
Thou dream'st awake: Obiect in th'emptie aire?
D'Amb.
Worthie the head of Titan, worth his chaire.
Mons.
Pray thee what mean'st thou?
D'Amb.
See you not a Croune
Empale the forehead of the great King Monsieur?
Mons.
O fie vpon thee.
D'Amb.
Sir, that is the Subiect
Of all these your retir'd and sole discourses.
Mons.
Wilt thou not leaue that wrongfull supposition?
This still hath made me doubt thou dost not loue me.
Wilt thou doe one thing for me then syncerelie?
D'Amb.
I, any thing, but killing of the King.
Mons.
Still in that discord, and ill taken note?
D'Amb.
Come, doe not doubt me, and command mee all things.
Mons.
I will not then, and now by all my loue
Shewne to thy vertues, and by all fruits else
Alreadie sprung from that affection,
I charge thee vtter (euen with all the freedome
Both of thy noble nature and thy friendship)
The full and plaine state of me in thy thoughts.
D'Amb.
What, vtter plainly what I thinke of you?
Why this swims quite against the streame of greatnesse:
Great men would rather heare their flatteries,
And if they be not made fooles, are not wise.
Mons.
I am no such great foole, and therefore charge thee
Euen from the roote of thy free heart, display mee.
D'Amb.
Since you affect it in such serious termes,
If your selfe first will tell me what you thinke
As freely and as heartily of mee,
Ile be as open in my thoughts of you.
Mons.
A bargaine of mine honour; and make this,
That prooue wee in our full dissection
Neuer so foule, liue still the sounder friends.
D'Amb.
What else Sir? come begin, and speake me simply.
Mons.
I will I sweare. I thinke thee then a man,
That dares as much as a wilde horse or Tyger;
As headstrong and as bloodie; and to feede
The rauenous wolfe of thy most Caniball valour,
(Rather than not employ it) thou would'st turne
Hackster to any whore, slaue to a Iew,
Or English vsurer, to force possessions,
And cut mens throates of morgaged estates;
Or thou would 'st tire thee like a Tinkers wife,
And murther market folkes, quarrell with sheepe,
And runne as mad as Aiax; serue a Butcher,
Doe any thing but killing of the King:
That in thy valour th'art like other naturals,
That haue strange gifts in nature, but no soule
Diffus'd quite through, to make them of a peece,
But stoppe at humours, that are more absurd,
Childish and villanous than that hackster, whore,
Slaue, cut-throat, Tinkers bitch, compar'd before:
And in those humours would'st enuie, betray,
Slander, blaspheme, change each houre a religion;
Doe any thing, but killing of the King;
That in that valour (which is still my dunghill,
To which I carrie all filth in thy house)
Th'art more ridiculous and vaine-glorious
Than any Mountibancke; and impudent
Than any painted bawde; which, not to sooth
And glorifie thee like a Iupiter Hammon,
Thou eat'st thy heart in vineger; and thy gall
Turns all thy blood to poison, which is cause
Of that Tode-poole that stands in thy complexion;
And makes thee (with a cold and earthie moisture,
Which is the damme of putrifaction,
As plague to thy damn'd pride) rot as thou liu'st;
To study calumnies and treacheries;
To thy friends slaughters, like a Scrich-owle sing,
And to all mischiefs, but to kill the King.
D'Amb.
So: Haue you said?
Mons.
How thinkest thou? Doe I flatter?
Speake I not like a trustie friend to thee?
D'Amb.
That euer any man was blest withall;
So heere's for mee. I thinke you are (at worst)
No diuell, since y'are like to be no king;
Of which, with any friend of yours Ile lay
This poore Stilladoe heere, gainst all the starres,
I, and gainst all your treacheries, which are more;
That you did neuer good, but to doe ill;
But ill of all sorts, free and for it selfe:
That (like a murthering peece, making lanes in armies
The first man of a ranke, the whole ranke falling)
If you haue once wrong'd one man, y'are so farre
From making him amends, that all his race,
Friends and associates fall into your chace:
That y'are for periuries the verie prince
Of all intelligencers; and your voice
Is like an Easterne winde, that where it flies,
Knits nets of Catterpillars, with which you catch
The prime of all the fruits the kingdome yeeldes.
That your politicall head is the curst fount
Of all the violence, rapine, crueltie,
Tyrannie & Atheisme flowing through the realme.
That y'aue a tongue so scandalous, twill cut
A perfect Crystall; and a breath that will
Kill to that wall a spider; you will iest
With God, and your soule to the diuell tender
For lust; kisse horror, and with death engender.
That your foule bodie is a Lernean fenne
Of all the maladies breeding in all men.
That you are vtterlie without a soule:
And (for your life) the thred of that was spunne,
When Clotho slept, and let her breathing rocke
Fall in the durt; and Lachesis still drawes it,
Dipping her twisting fingers in a boule
Defil'd, and croun'd with vertues forced soule.
And lastly (which I must for Gratitude
Euer remember) That of all my height
And dearest life, you are the onlie spring,
Only in royall hope to kill the king.
Mons.
Why now I see thou lou'st mee, come to the banquet.
Finis Actus terty.