 | The Massacre of Paris |  |
SCENE II.
Admiral, Antramont, Cavagnes, Langoiran.Ant.
Poison'd; the Royal dead Navarre was poison'd?
'Tis the first Thunder-clap of that vast Storm
That seems already breaking o're your head:
Why are you senseless then, and deaf to warning;
When, wheresoe're you cast your Eyes, the storm
Looks blacker yet? Why stays the Duke of Guise?
Why does he summon all his Blood to Court,
With Barons, Knights, that hold the Catholick Party,
With Foreign Gentry living on his Pensions,
And therefore ready upon all occasion,
With hazard of their lives to act his pleasure.
Adm.
Peace, Antramont.
Ant.
Alas, my Lord, I cannot.
Why should the Visdam Chartres, Count Mongomery,
Resolve to lodge themselves beyond the Sein,
Unless their minds presage some dreadful mischief!
33
The King and Queen delude your easie Soul
With fatal Praises, and undoing Honours:
O, they have caught you! my Prophetick Soul
Sees the red Tempest thunder down in blood,
In blood of you, of me, of all about you.
Adm.
O, Antramont, you foil me now indeed;
Yet I shall answer, if your Passion please:
First, for the Queen, I saw her Body open'd,
The parts whereof were sound, untouch'd by Poison,
And by our own Physicians 'twas concluded
She dy'd a natural Death. Then for the Guises,
Some little satisfaction must be given,
As to permit their Presence at the Marriage;
But, for the management of State-affairs,
Or Favour from the King, they're lost for ever:
Nor shall it keep my dauntless Powers awake,
Tho' Chartres and Mongomery will not come.
But, to forbear the Subject, leave me here
With my Cavagnes.
Ant.
I am commanded, Sir;
Yet, for the safety of your innocent Babes,
Beware, my Lord, be cautious, O prevent.
[Exit Antramont.
Adm.
Fear not; Farewel; be gone; I will beware,
Why should I fear, Cavagnes, when the King
Inclines his heart to the Reform'd Religion;
When the whole management of Home-affairs,
With all Confederacies made abroad,
Are left to me, as Judge and Arbitrator,
The Genius and the Oracle of France?
But, if the Will of Heav'n has set it down,
That all this trust is deep dissimulation,
That there's no Faith nor Credit to be given
To the inviolable Royal Word;
O, my Cavagnes, if 'tis possible,
If this be so, I yield, I yield to die:
I am contented for the Protestant Faith
Here to be hewn into a thousand pieces,
And made the Martyr of so good a Cause.
Lang.
My Lord, I take my leave; and am resolv'd
To leave the Court.
Adm.
Cavagnes, prethee speak,
It is not worth our smile: But why, Langoiran,
Why dost thou leave the Maker of thy Fortune?
Is it not worth the hazard?
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No, my Lord.
I'm sorry, Sir, to see you made so much of:
And so Farewel. For my part, I'm content
To save my self with Fools; rather than perish
With those that are too wise.
[Exit.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
My Lord the Duke of Guise.
Enter Guise.
Exeunt Cavag. Serv. and all.
Gui.
The King, my Lord, commanded me to wait you,
And bid you welcome to the Court.
Adm.
The King
Still loads me with new Honours; but none greater
Than this, the last.
Gui.
There is one greater yet,
Your high Commission for the War with Spain:
I, and my Family, are charg'd to serve you;
And 'twill be glorious work.
Adm.
If you are there,
There must be Action.
Gui.
O, your pardon, Sir;
I'm but a Stripling in the Trade of War:
But you, whose life is one continu'd Battel,
What will not your Triumphant Arms accomplish?
Who, as your self confess'd, or Fame is false,
Have quite out-gone the memory of the Ancients,
Of Alexander, and of Julius Cæsar,
For they in all their Actions had success;
But you, in spite of your malicious Fortune,
After the loss of four most signal Battels,
Still rose more fierce and dreadful to your Foes:
And last, when all men thought you had no way
To save your life, but wander through the World;
You forc'd the King to grant your own Conditions,
More proper for a Conquerour than one
That was o'recome.
Adm.
No more of that, my Lord.
Gui.
But, Sir, since I must make a little one
In this great Business, let me understand
What 'tis you mean; and why you put the King
Upon so dangerous an Expedition.
Adm.
Know, I intend the Greatness of the King,
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To make their Arms their Aim and Occupation:
Since then the Genius of the Kingdom's rouz'd,
I'll turn the Fever of those Civil Broils
To wholesom Exercise, to war with Strangers.
Gui.
Stor'd Arsenals, and Armories, and Fields of Horse,
Ordnance, Ammunition, and the Nerve of War,
Sound Infantry; not harrass'd and diseas'd,
To meet a Veteran Army, should be thought of;
Nor ought you to rely on Protestants,
Those Mercenaries that must come: for he
Who, thus resolv'd, depends on such, shall spread
His Feathers now; but mew 'em all to morrow.
Adm.
I find; my Lord, the Argument grows warm.
Therefore thus much, and I have done. The King
Intends to send an Army into Flanders,
A powerful one, and under my Command:
First then, altho' the Wars of later Ages
Are, in respect of former, made i'th'dark,
Chastillon will not steal a Victory.
Gui.
The Phrase of Alexander at Arbela!
Adm.
No place of Honour, Office, or Command
Through the whole Series of this glorious War,
For Profit, Favour, or for Interest,
Not of the greatest shall be bought or sold:
Whereas too, for th'incouragement of Fighters,
There are degrees promiscuously conferr'd
On Souldiers, and no Souldiers, this man Knighted,
Because he charg'd a Troop before his dinner,
And sculk'd behind a hedge in th'afternoon;
I will have strict Examination made
Betwixt the meritorious and the base;
And, since I am entrusted as I wish,
I'll spoil the Traffick of this Brandy Court,
And vye Rewards for Merit with old Rome.
Gui.
You will, my good Lord Admiral?
Adm.
Sir I will.
Upon the very Spot of Victory
For Gallant Men—
Erect their Tropies, Funeral Laudatives,
And Monuments for those that dy'd in War,
Crowns of distinction, Garland Personal,
All but the Stile of Emperour, which the King
Of the whole Universe did after borrow;
That for my Master: and perhaps for me
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Gui.
You have mouth'd it bravely; and there is no doubt
Your deeds would answer well such haughty words:
Yet, let me tell you, Sir, there was a man
(Curse on the hand that sped him) that would better,
Better than you, or all the bragging Generals,
That when he shone in Arms and sun'd the Field,
That better would become the great Battallion,
Mov'd, spoke, and fought, and was himself a War.
Adm.
The Noble Guise, your Father, Sir, you mean;
But yet, my Lord—
Gui.
No yet, my Lord; no yet:
By Arms, I bar you that;
For never was his like, nor shall again,
Till murder'd by Poltrot; curs'd, damn'd Poltrot,
Whose Soul now gluts the Maw of Lucifer.
Adm.
Speak with more Charity.
Gui.
Ha! Charity!
Damnation on the Soul that harbours it.
Were I in Heav'n, and saw him scorch'd in Flames,
I would not spit my Indignation down,
Lest I should cool his Tongue. For Beza too,
That set him on, with the Rewards of Heav'n,
To act so black, so deep, so damn'd a Murder.
O why will Charles thus sheath the Sword of Justice
Till he has rooted up this Sect of Villains,
And collar'd to the Stake that canting Slave
That preach'd my God-like Father from the World?
Adm.
Come, come, my Lord, hear with a little patience,
And you shall find 'tis not the Protestant way
To stab, and beat the Brains out in the dark:
Look home, my Lord, go to the Vatican;
See, if in all those Politick Discourses,
There be not one Red-letter'd Page for killing.
Gui.
Ha, Admiral! then dur'st thou justify
The Villain, whom my Vengeance marks for death?
Adm.
My Lord, I will not justify a Villain
More than your self: But if you thus proceed,
If that a great Man's breath can puff away
On every Pet the Lives of Free-born People;
What need that awful General Convocation,
Th'Assembly of the States? nay, let me urge,
If thus you threat the Venerable Beza,
What may the rest expect?
Gui.
What if I could,
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Adm.
'Tis very well, my Lord, I know your mind
Which, without fear or flatt'ry to your Person,
I'll tell the King; and then, with his Permission,
Proclaim it for a Warning to our People.
Gui.
Come, you're a Murd'rer, your self.
Adm.
Away.
Gui.
You were Complotter with that Villain Beza,
The black Abetter of my Father's Murder.
Adm.
This wou'd sound well, my Lord, in Front-Battle,
But here upon a Visit from the King
It looks not like the Guise.
Gui.
My Father's Murder? bid me not stand on points
When that's remember'd!
But track me to the Forest with thy Sword,
Thus Man to Man, bark'd with all thy People,
Follow me, or I will proclaim thee Traytor, Coward.
Adm.
O King, King, King! still let me sound thy Name,
Lest this Fool-hardy-Boy, this knotty Trifler,
This Spawn of Words, this Urchin of the War,
Should raise my Anger past the pulling down.
Enter King, Queen Mother, Alberto Anjou, and Morvile.
But see He's here, I scorn to ruine thee:
Therefore go tell him, tell him thy own Story.
King.
What now, my Lord of Guise? Is this your Visit?
I charge you on your life, without reserve,
Tell me the truth; how hapned this disorder?
Those rufled hands, red looks, and port of Fury?
Gui.
I told him, Sir, since you resolve to have it,
He was the Murderer of my Noble Father;
Therefore a Traytor, Villain, and a Coward.
King.
Is't possible?
Adm.
No matter, Sir, no matter;
The Old Man rouz'd, and shook himself, my Lord;
A few hot words; no more, upon my life:
So, if your Majesty will do me Honour,
I do beseech you, let the business dye.
King.
Guise, go, submit your self, and ask his pardon.
Gui.
My Lord, I cannot speak.
King.
Where are our Guards?
Adm.
Hold there. Come, Sir, I will interpret for you.
My Lord, this close embrace makes up the breach:
We will be sorry, Sir, for one another.
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You have out-done me, Sir; but you'l excuse me,
'Twas a great Rack that screw'd me to this Folly.
Adm.
More than enough, we're riveted the faster.
King.
My Lord of Guise.
Q. M.
My good Lord Admiral,
Now use your Power, and quite oblige the Court:
Villandry has provok'd the King at Play,
In such a nature, that he's doom'd to die;
My Son refus'd my Intercession for him;
Therefore, when he has done his Check to Guise,
For your affront; pray, my good Lord, intreat him.
King.
The Marriage stays within; which past, resolve
His Execution sudden as you can.
Gui.
Marvile.
Mar.
My Lord?
Gui.
I by the King's Commission, have Command
To take the Admiral's life.
Mar.
I'le shoot him.
Gui.
Right:
As he returns from Court.
Mar.
From some Out-Lodging
I'le watch him till I execute your Order.
Adm.
I am a Suitor to your Majesty
For poor Villandry's life.
King.
Haste, bring him forth.
I think, my Lord, if you should ask my heart,
My yielding breast would open to your hand.
But, Father, let's away; the Cardinal
Stays for Navarre.
Adm.
We'll wait your Majesty.
[Exit King with the Court.
O, my Cavagnes, where's Langoiran now?
Where's Antramont? but haste, and tell her all;
Tell her th'extravagant kindness of the King,
Tell her, but stay; why such repeated Oaths?
That's to be thought on: Hollow was his aspect,
Graves in his smiles; Death in his bloodless hands.
O, Antramont! I'le haste to meet thy Eyes:
The Face of Beauty on these rising horrours,
Looks like the Midnight-Moon upon a Murder:
It drives the Shades that thicken from the State,
And gilds the dark design that's ripe for Fate.
[Exeunt.
| The Massacre of Paris | |