Chapter V: Prologue (3)

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

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

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

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

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

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

LINENOTES:

_with a letter_. A omits.

5 _foule_. A, fare.

16 _idols_. A, images.

21 _So then . . . in them_. A omits.

24 _faculty_. A, motions.

26-29 _None . . . diadem_. A assigns these lines to Bussy.

28 _divided empires_. A, predominance.

29 _prove_. A, claime.

38 _priviledge_. A, tyrannous.

65 _and_. A, but.

70-78 _If he . . . and slit_. Omitted in A, which has
instead:--

_Buss._ No, I thinke not.

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

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

77-79 In B four lines, broken at (second) _how_, _have_,
_out_, _thee peace_.

92 _roughnesse_. A, toughnesse.

96 _the_. A omits.

103 _minde_. A, spirit.

104 _desert_. A, effect.

112 _steales on to ravish_. A, is comming to afflict.

_Enter . . . Pero_, placed in A after _under_ in 134.

_Exeunt . . . Monsieur_. A omits.

_She seemes to sound_. A omits.

151-154 _Sweet . . . enough_. A has instead:--

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

B has three lines broken at _forehead_, _warres_,
_enough_.

180 _fingers_. A, hand.

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

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

205-209 _papers hold . . . for it_. Omitted in A, which has
instead:--

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

212 _well_. A, much.

217 _this touch_. A, my lord.

232 _But I will to him_. A, Ile attend your lordship.

234 _Meet_. A, Speake.

236 _To him . . . him_. A omits.

[ACTUS QUARTI SCENA SECUNDA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter D'Ambois and Frier._

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

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

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

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

_Buss._ How is it with my honour'd mistresse?

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Thunder. Ascendit [Behemoth with Cartophylax and other
spirits]._

_Behemoth._ What would the holy frier?

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

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

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

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

_Cartophylax._ I will. _A torch removes._

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

_Beh._ Both them and the Guise
Are now together.

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

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

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

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

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

_Buss._ May we not heare them?

[_Fri._] No, be still and see.

_Buss._ I will goe fetch the paper.

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

_Enter Pero with a letter._

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

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

_Gui._ Alas, poore soule!

_Mons._ This was cruelly done, y'faith.

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

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

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

_Gui._ To you, my lord.

_Mons._ To me? Now out upon her! 145

_Gui._ Let me see, my lord.

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

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

* * * * *

_Tam._ Hath my lord slaine my woman?

_Beh._ No, she lives.

_Fri._ What shall become of us?

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

_Buss._ Will he appeare to me when I invoke him?

_Fri._ He will, be sure.

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

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

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

_Finis Actus Quarti._

LINENOTES:

_Enter D'Ambois and Frier_ and 1-19 _I am . . .
despaire_. A omits.

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

_Tamira enters_. A, she enters. _Pero, her maid_.
Emend. Dilke; A, her maid; B, Pero and her maid.

22 _curst_. A omits.

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

28-31 _Our love is knowne; . . . but he_. Omitted in A,
which has instead:--

_Buss._ What insensate stocke,
Or rude inanimate vapour without fashion.

_He puts on his robes._ A omits.

_Thunder._ A omits.

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

80 _one_. A; B, on.

103 [_Fri._] Emend, ed.; Qq, _Monsieur_.

113 _where you may_. A, wherein you.

_Enter . . . letter_. A omits.

_Mont[surry] . . . exit_. Emend. ed.; A, _Exit
Mont._, which it places after _y'faith_ in l. 140; B,
_Exit Mont. and stabs Pero_.]

143 _rather be a bitter_. A, be, at least, if not a.

145 _To you . . . me_? A omits. _Enter servant_. A omits.

155 _die_. A, stay.

156 _In_. A, With. _her_. Emend. Dilke; Qq, his. See
note, p. 159.

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

193 _taint_. A, print.

197 _by_. A, from.

ACTUS QUINTI SCENA PRIMA.

[_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

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

_Tamyra._ O, help me, father!

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

_Montsurry._ Tis not violent;
Come you not willingly?

_Tam._ Yes, good my lord.

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

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

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

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

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

_Tam._ Father!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Tam._ O lord--

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

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

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

_Tam._ And yet I live.

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

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

_Ascendit Frier with a sword drawne._

_Fri._ What rape of honour and religion! 155
O wrack of nature! _Falls and dies._

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

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

_Tam._ He was, he was, kind worthy man, he was.

_Mont._ Write, write a word or two.

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

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

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

_Exeunt [Servants]._

LINENOTES:

_by the haire_. A omits.

1-4 _O, help . . . my lord_. A omits.

21 _than that_. A, than it.

28 _secret_. A, hateful.

32 _tread_. A, touch.

35 _your terrors_. A omits.

35-6 _Good . . . distracted_. B punctuates:--

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

40 _Heaven_. A, God. _you_. A, ye.

42-4 _Father . . . safety_. A omits.

45 _brest_. A, heart.

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

48 _woes_. A, cares.

51 _devouring_. A, enraged.

60 _Heaven_. A, God.

68 _rig'd with quench for_. A, laden for thy.

91 _devoure_. A, distract. _consort_. A, state.

95 _faults_. A, sins.

129 _with any shew . . . cruelty_. A omits.

140 _ever_. A, still.

141 _parallel_. A, like in ill.

_Enter Servants._ A omits.

_with a sword drawne_. A omits.

_Falls and dies._ A omits.

174 _worthy_. A, innocent.

_He . . . arras._ _Exeunt._ A omits; B places _He
. . . arras_ after _Exeunt_.

[SCENA SECUNDA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter Monsieur and Guise._

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

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

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

_Enter Montsurry disguis'd, with the murtherers._

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

_Montsurry._ Speed me, vengeance! 55
_Exit._

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

_Murderers._ We will, my lord. _Exeunt._

LINENOTES:

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

3 _that makes_. A, who makes.

7 _Not knowing what they say_. Omitted in A, which has
instead:--

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

8 _deale_. A, masse.

13 _we call_. A; B, she calls.

14 _must_. A, should.

16 _Even_. A, Right.

17 _me thinks_. men thinke. _gard them_. A; B, guard.

25 _proportion_. A, decorum.

28 _a perfect_. A, an absolute.

29 _full_. A, whole.

32 _Yet shall you_. A, Why you shall.

38 _let's_. A, let.

40 _rage_. A, rages.

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

44 _blind borne_. A, purblinde.

_Enter Montsurry . . . murtherers_, and 54-59, _Away
. . . will, my lord_. Omitted in A.

[SCENA TERTIA.

_A Room in Bussy's House_.]

_D'Ambois, with two Pages with tapers._

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

_Pages._ We will, sir. _Exeunt._

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

_Enter Umb[ra] Frier._

Blesse me, heaven!

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

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

_Thunders. Surgit Spiritus cum suis._

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

_Buss._ When will she send?

_Beh._ Soone as I set againe, where late I rose.

_Buss._ Is the old Frier slaine?

_Beh._ No, and yet lives not. 60

_Buss._ Died he a naturall death?

_Beh._ He did.

_Buss._ Who then
Will my deare mistresse send?

_Beh._ I must not tell thee.

_Buss._ Who lets thee?

_Beh._ Fate.

_Buss._ Who are Fates ministers?

_Beh._ The Guise and Monsieur.

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

_Beh._ If thou yeeld
To her next summons. Y'are faire warn'd; farewell!
_Thunders. Exit._

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

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

_Mont._ Haile to my worthy sonne!

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

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

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

_Mont._ Holy Writ so calls him.

_Buss._ What! writ in bloud!

_Mont._ I, 'tis the ink of lovers.

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

LINENOTES:

_with tapers_. A omits.

_Thunder._ A omits.

8 _Nods_. A, Crackes.

_Enter . . . Frier_. Placed after _heaven_ in Qq.

9 _deare_. A, my.

15-16 _and now . . . imminent_. A omits.

17 _upper_. A, utmost.

49 _shine_. A, see.

50 _men are_. A, sense is.

_Thunders_ A omits

_Thunders._ A omits.

76 _or_. A, and.

_with a letter written in bloud_. A omits.

85-98 _O lying Spirit . . . calls him_. Omitted in A, which
has instead:--

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

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

91-92 _I beleeved . . . give_. One line in B.

[SCENA QUARTA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Thunder. Intrat Umbra Frier and discovers Tamyra._

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

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

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

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

_Umb. Fri._ My power is limited; alas! I cannot;
All that I can doe--See! the cave opens. _Exit._

_D'Amboys at the gulfe._

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

_Enter Monsieur and Guise above._

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

_Mons._ }
_Guise._ } Why enter not the coward villains?

_Buss._ Dare they not come?

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

_Tam._ They come.

_First Murderer._ Come, all at once!

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

_Omnes._ Defend us heaven!
_Exeunt all but the first._

_First Murd._ Come ye not on?

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

[_Strikes at him with his sword._]

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

_Umb. Fri._ Breath thee, brave sonne, against the other charge.

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

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

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

_Enter Mont[surry] with all the murtherers._

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

[_Montsurry fights with D'Ambois._] _D'Ambois hath
Montsurry downe._

_Tam._ Favour my lord, my love, O, favour him!

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

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

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

_Umb. Fri._ Forgive thy murtherers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Finis Actus Quinti & Ultimi._

LINENOTES:

_Thunder . . . Tamyra_. A has: _Intrat umbra Comolet
to the Countesse, wrapt in a canapie._

1-6 _Up . . . not study_. Omitted in A, which has
instead:--

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

9 _revenged_. A, engaged.

14 _t'have_. A; B, have.

15-22 _It is . . . opens_. Omitted in A, which has
instead:--

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

16 _Your . . . friend_. In B ends preceding line.

_Enter . . . above_. A omits.

30 _To_. Some copies of B have T.

33-36 _If I . . . and ready_. A omits.

41 _Why . . . villains_? A omits.

_Enter . . . dore_. A omits.

_all but the first_. A omits.

53 Qq punctuate wrongly:--_Where is that angry Earle my
lord? Come forth._

_all the murtherers_. A, others.

_D'Ambois . . . downe_. A omits.

_Pistolls shot within._ Inserted before 72 in B; A
omits.

90-93 _And if . . . groomes_. A omits.

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

119 _Now_. A, And.

135 _in_. A, gainst.

136 _drifts of_. A, endless.

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

_Moritur_. A omits.

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

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

147 _reliques_. A, relicts.

149 _Joine flames with Hercules_. So in A; B, Jove flames
with her rules.

151 _chrystall_. A, continent.

154 _Son . . . soule_. Before this line B has _Frier_.

155 _Rues . . . heaven_. After this line A inserts:--

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

163 _kneeling_. A, sitting.