University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

The Louvre.
Enter La Noue, Soubise, and Pardaillan.
Pardaillan.
I have not heard such news.

La N.
'Faith, they sound ill;
If women of so choice and costly names
Turn worse than popular murders are, we have all
Much need to help ourselves.

Sou.
This is their fashion;
Their blood is apt to heats so mutable
As in their softer bodies overgrow
The temper of sweet reason, and confound
All order but their blood.

Par.
You read them well;
Good reason have you to put reason to't
And measure them by the just line of it.

La N.
But that such sins should plague the feverish time
I do not wonder far; all things are grown
Into a rankness.

Par.
Still I say, a woman
To do such bitter deeds—

Sou.
That's where it sticks.

Par.
Put on such iron means—

Sou.
Ay, that, sir, that.

Par.
So rip the garments of their temperance
And keep no modest thing about their face
To hide the sin thereon: pluck off the shows
That did o'erblanch a little—

Sou.
Ay, keep there.

La N.
But, gentlemen, what upshot hear you of?

Par.
The queen hath sent her under heavy guard
To bide some subtler edge of evidence
Here in her chamber.

Sou.
Why not in prison?
Look you, they'll let her slip; I say they will.

Par.
But hear you, sir; I did not blame the queen—

Sou.
It doth outgrow the height and top of shame
That she should pass untaxed.

Par.
She will not pass.

Sou.
Take note, sir, there is composition in't;
They would not put imprisonment on her;
Why this is rank: I tell you this is rank.

Par.
God's pity! what a perfect wasp are you!
Why, say she scapes—as by my faith I see
No such keen reason why she should not scape,
The matter being so bare and thin in proof
As it appears by this—

La N.
Yea, so I say;
If she be manifest a murderess—

Sou.
If!
What “if” will serve? show me the room for “if;”
I read no reason on the face of “if.”
If she be not, what leans our faith upon?
If she be pure or only possible
For judgment to wash clear—if she be not
Evident in guilt beyond all evidence—
The perfect map where such red lines are drawn
As set down murder—if she be less one whit
I'll take her sin upon myself and turn
Her warrant.

Par.
Take a woman's sin on you?
O, while you live, lay no such weight on faith,
'Twill break her back. Sir, as you love me, do not;
I would not have you take such charge upon you.

Sou.
I say I will not; for I can approve
Her very guiltiness.

Par.
Nay, that clears all.
But it is strange that one so well reputed,
So perfect in all gentle ways of time
That take men's eyes—in whom the slips she had
Were her more grace and did increase report
To do her good—who might excuse all blame
That the tongued story of this time could lay
On her most sweet account—that such a lady
Should wreak herself so bloodily for words
Upon a shallow and sick-witted fool.
Why, what is she the better, he removed?
Or how doth he impair her, being alive?
There's matter in't we know not of.

Sou.
Yea, why?
For that you speak of her repute, my lord,
I am not perfect in a girl's repute;
It may be other than I think of it;
But in this poor conjectural mind of mine
I cannot see how to live large and loose
Doth put a sounder nerve into repute
Than honest women have. What we did know of her,
You, I, and all men—

Par.
Nay, you tax her far.

Sou.
I mean, we know her commerce with the king;
Ha? did we not?

Par.
Yea, that was broad enough.

Sou.
Why, well then, how doth she make up repute,
Being patched so palpably? Here comes the queen.

Enter the King, the Queen-Mother, and La Rochefoucauld.
Ch.
It may be so.

Ca.
I would it had less face.
If likelihood could better speak of her,
I should be glad to help it.

Sou.
Marked you this?

Ca.
But shame can hide no shame so manifest;
It must all out.

Ch.
I do not say it must.

Ca.
Why, it was open, proof doth handle it;
The poor brain-bitten railer chid at her,
Scoffed in lewd words, made speech insufferable
Of any temperate ear; no colder cheek
But would have burnt at him; myself was angered,
Could not wear patience through; and she being quick,
Tendering her state as women do, too slight
To push her reason past her anger's bound—

Sou.
Did you note that? she speaks my proper way.

Ca.
She being such doth with my hands resolve
To whip him out of life; and in this humour—

Ch.
Soft now; I must get proof; what makes your highness
In such a matter?

Ca.
I gave her glove to him.

Ch.
O, this is well; and yet she murdered him?

Par.
What says your judgment to't? have you no quirk? (Aside.)


Ca.
She gave it me; I had the glove of her.

Par.
Does the wind blow that side?

Sou.
Notice the king; he chafes.

[Exeunt Pardaillan, Soubise, and La Noue.
Ch.
Our sister says she did outswear you all
She never saw the glove.

Ca.
Put her to proof;
Let her outbrag by evidence evidence,
And proof unseat by proof.

Ch.
Call her to me.

Ca.
That were unfit; you shall not see her.

Ch.
Shall not!
Who puts the “shall not” on me? is it you?

Ca.
Not I, but absolute need and present law;
She is not well; and till she be made whole
There shall no trial pass upon her proof;
She shall have justice; it may be she is clear,
And this large outward likelihood may lie;
Then she were sharply wronged; and in that fear
And also for dear love I bear to her
I have removed her with no care but mine
To a more quiet room; where till more surety
She doth abide in an unwounded peace,
Having most tender guard.

Ch.
I'll write her comfort;
For I do know she has much wrong in this.

Ca.
I will commend you verbally to her;
The other were some scandal.

Ch.
Pray you, do;
Look you speak gently; I would not have you loud,
For she will weep all pity into you
To see her cheek so marred. Look you say well;
Say I do nothing fear but she is wronged,
And will do right; yea, though I loved her not
(As truly I am not so hard in love
But I can see her fault, which is much pity—
A very talking error in weak tongues)
I would not have her wronged. Look you say that.

Ca.
I will say anything.

Ch.
Now, my fair lord,
Have I done well?

La R.
Most justly and most well.

Ch.
You would not else, were you a king of mine?

La R.
I would do this, even merely as you do.

Ch.
What say you to this evidence?

La R.
That it doth
Amaze my sense of what is proven; for,
If there be witness in the touch and grasp
Of things so palpable, and naked likelihood
Outpoises all thin guess and accident,
I must believe what makes belief rebel
And turn a proclaimed liar. For I am sure
That she whose mouth this proof doth dwell upon,
I mean the virtuous damozel Yolande,
Is past the tax of lying; she is as pure
As truth desires a man.

Ch.
It is most strange;
Let's find some smoother talk. Have you not seen
My book of deer, what seasons and what ways
To take them in? I finished it last night.

La R.
I have not seen it.

Ch.
Only this throws me out;
(The verses, Peter Ronsard made them rhyme)
I'll show you where; come, you shall get me through;
You are perfect at such points.

La R.
Your praise outruns me.

Ch.
No, not a whit; you are perfect in them; come.

[Exeunt King and La Rochefoucauld.
Ca.
This is the proper cooling of hot blood;
Now is she lost in him. Say, she doth live; to put
Earth in her lips and dusty obstacle
May not be worth my pains. She cannot thwart me either;
For say I did enfranchise her to-night,
Give air and breath to her loud'st speech, she could not
Wrench one man's faith awry. Yet since I know
Security doth overlean itself
And bruise its proper side, I will not do't.
Or say I win her back; and being so won,
I may find serviceable times for her
To spy upon king fool; this coolness thawed
Would make a heat indeed. There's use for her
And room withal; if she leave tenderness
And this girl's habit of a changing blood,
I can as well unload her of this weight
As I did lay it on; which being kept up
May make her life bend under it, and crack
The sensible springs of motion. I will put proof to it;
Favour of love, promise and sweet regard,
Large habit, and the royal use of time,
May her slight fear as potently outpoise
As wisdom doth, weighed in a steadier brain.

[Exit.