University of Virginia Library

Actus Quarti

Scena Prima.

Henry, Monsieur, Guise, Montsurry, Bussy, Elynor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Anable, Pyrha, with foure Pages.
Henr.
Ladies, ye haue not done our banquet right,
Nor lookt vpon it with those cheerefull raies
That lately turnd your breaths to flouds of gold;
Your looks, me thinks, are not drawne out with thoughts,
So cleere and free as heeretofore, but fare
As if the thicke complexions of men
Gouernd within them.

Buss.
Tis not like my Lord
That men in women rule; but contrary,
For as the Moone (of all things God created)
Not only is the most appropriate image
Or glasse to shew them how they wax and wane,
But in her light and motion, likewise beares
Imperiall influences that command
In all their powers, and make them wax & wane;
So women, that (of all things made of nothing)
Are the most perfect images of the Moone
(Or still-vnweand sweet Moon-calues with white faces)
Not only are paternes of change to men:
But as the tender Moon-shine of their beauties
Cleeres, or is cloudy, make men glad or sad.

Mons.
But heere the Moones are chang'd (as the King notes)
And either men rule in them, or some power
Beyond their voluntary motions:
For nothing can recouer their lost faces.

Buss.
None can be alwaies one: our griefes and ioies
Hold seuerall scepters in vs; and haue times
For their predominance: which griefe now, in them
Doth claime, as proper to his diademe:
And grief's a naturall sicknesse of the bloud,
That time to part, asks as his comming had;
Onely sleight fooles grieu'd, suddenly are glad;
A man may say t'a dead man, be reuiud,
As well as to one sorrowfull, be not grieu'd.
And therefore (Princely mistresse) in all warres
Against these base foes that insult on weaknesse,
And still fight hous'd, behinde the shield of Nature,
Of tyrannous law, treachery, or beastly need,
Your seruant cannot helpe; authority heere
Goes with corruption; something like some States,
That back woorst men: valure to them must creepe
That (to themselues left) would feare him asleepe.

Ely.
Ye all take that for granted, that doth rest
Yet to be prou'd; we all are as we were
As merry, and as free in thought as euer.

Gui.
And why then can ye not disclose your thoughts?

Tamy.
Me thinks the man hath answerd for vs well.

Mons.
The man? why Madam d'ee not know his name?

Tamy.
Man is a name of honour for a King:
Additions take away from each chiefe thing:
The Schoole of Modesty, not to learne, learnes Dames:
They sit in high formes there, that know mens names.

Mons.
Harke sweet heart, hee'rs a bound set to your valure:
It cannot enter heere; no, not to notice
Of what your name is; your great Eagles beake
(Should you flie at her) had as good encounter
An Albion cliffe, as her more craggy liuer.

Buc.
Ile not attempt her Sir; her sight and name
(By which I only know her) doth deter me.

Henr.
So do they all men else.

Mons.
You would say so
If you knew all.

Tamy.
Knew all my Lord? what meane you?

Mons.
All that I know Madam.

Tamy.
That you know? speake it.

Mons.
No tis enough I feele it.

Henr.
But me thinkes
Her Courtship is more pure than heeretofore:
True Courtiers should be modest, but not nice:
Bold, but not impudent: pleasure loue, not vice.

Mons.
Sweet heart: come hither, what if one should make
Horns at Mountsurry? would it strike him iealous
Through all the proofes of his chaste Ladies vertues?

Buc.
No I thinke not.

Mons.
Not if I nam'd the man
With whom I would make him suspicious
His wife hath armd his forehead?

Buc.
So, you might
Haue your great nose made lesse indeed: and slit:
Your eies thrust out.

Mons.
Peace, peace, I pray thee peace.
Who dares doe that? the brother of his King?

Buc.
Were your King brother in you: all your powers
(Stretcht in the armes of great men and their bawds)
Set close downe by you; all your stormie lawes
Spouted with Lawyers mouths; and gushing bloud,
Like to so many Torrents: all your glories:
(Making you terrible, like enchaunted flames
Fed with bare cockescombes: and with crooked hammes)
All your prerogatiues, your shames and tortures:
All daring heauen, and opening hell about you:
Were I the man, ye wrong'd so and prouok'd:
(Though ne're so much beneath you) like a box tree
I would (out of the toughnesse of my root)
Ramme hardnesse, in my lownesse, and like death,
Mounted on earthquakes, I would trot through all
Honors and horrors: through fowle and faire,
And from your whole strength tosse you into aire.

Mons.
Goe, th'art a diuell; such another spirit
Could not be stild, from all Th'Armenian dragons.
O my Loues glory: heire to all I haue:
That's all I can say, and that all I sweare.
If thou outliue me, as I know thou must,
Or else hath nature no proportiond end
To her great labors: she hath breath'd a spirit
Into thy entrailes, of effect to swell
Into another great Augustus Cæsar:
Organes, and faculties fitted to her greatnesse:
And should that perish like a common spirit,
Nature's a Courtier and regards no merit.

Henr.
Heer's nought but whispering with vs: like a calme
Before a tempest, when the silent aire
Laies her soft eare close to the earth to hearken
For that she feares is comming to afflict her;
Some fate doth ioine our eares to heare it comming.
Come, my braue eagle, let's to Couert flie:
I see Almighty Æther in the smoake
Of all his clowds descending: and the skie
Hid in the dimme ostents of Tragedy.

Exit Hen. with D'Amb.
Guis.
Now stirre the humour, and begin the brawle.

Mont.
The King and D'Ambois now are growen all one.

Mons.
Nay, they are two my Lord.

Mont.
How's that?

Mons.
No more.

Mont.
I must haue more my Lord.

Mons.
What more than two?

Mont.
How monstrous is this?

Mons.
Why?

Mont.
You make me Horns.

Mons.
Not I, it is a worke, without my power,
Married mens ensignes are not made with fingers:
Of diuine Fabrique they are, Not mens hands;
Your wife, you know, is a Meere Cynthia,
And she must fashion hornes out of her Nature.

Mont.
But doth she? dare you charge her? speak false Prince.

Mons.
I must not speake my Lord: but if yow'le vse
The learning of a noble man, and read
Heer's something to those points: soft you must pawne
Your honour hauing read it to returne it.

Mont.
Not I, I pawne mine Honour, for a paper?

Mons.
You must not buie it vnder.

Ent. Tamy. Pero.
Mont.
Keepe it then!
And keepe fire in your bosome.

Tam.
What saies he?

Mont.
You must make good the rest.

Tam.
How fares my Lord?
Takes my Loue any thing to heart he saies?

Mont.
Come y'are a.

Tam.
What my Lord?

Mont.
The plague of Herod
Feast in his rotten entrailes.

Tam.
Will you wreake
Your angers iust cause giuen by him, on mee?

Mont.
By him?

Tamy.
By him my Lord, I haue admir'd
You could all this time be at concord with him,
That still hath plaid such discords on your honour.

Mont.
Perhaps tis with some proud string of my wiues.

Tam.
How's that, my Lord?

Mont.
Your tongue will still admire,
Till my head be the miracle of the world.

Tam.
O woe is mee.

Pero.
What does your Lordship meane?
Madam, be comforted; my Lord but tries you.
Madam? Helpe good my Lord are you not mou'd?
Doe your set lookes print in your words, your thoughts?
Sweete Lord, cleere vp those eies, for shame of Noblesse:
Mercilesse creature; but it is enough,
You haue shot home, your words are in her heart;
She has not liu'd to beare a triall now.

Mont.
Looke vp my loue, and by this kisse receiue
My soule amongst thy spirits for supplie
To thine, chac'd with my furie.

Tam.
O my Lord,
I haue too long liu'd to heare this from you.

Mont.
Twas from my troubled blood, and not from mee:
I know not how I fare; a sudden night
Flowes through my entrailes, and a headlong Chaos
Murmurs within mee, which I must digest;
And not drowne her in my confusions,
That was my liues ioy, being best inform'd:
Sweet, you must needes forgiue me, that my loue
(Like to a fire disdaining his suppression)
Rag'd being discourag'd; my whole heart is wounded
When any least thought in you is but touch't,
And shall be till I know your former merits:
Your name and memorie altogether craue
In loth'd obliuion their eternall graue;
And then you must heare from me, ther's no meane
In any passion I shall feele for you:
Loue is a rasor cleansing being well vs'd,
But fetcheth blood still being the least abus'd:
To tell you briefly all; The man that left mee
When you appear'd, did turne me worse than woman,
And stab'd me to the heart thus, with his hand.

Tamy.
O happie woman! Comes my staine from him?
It is my beautie, and that innocence prooues,
That slew Chymæra, rescu'd Peleus
From all the sauage beasts in Peleon;
And rais'd the chaste Athenian prince from Hell:
All suffering with me; they for womens lusts,
I for a mans; that the Egean stable
Of his foule sinne would emptie in my lappe:
How his guilt shunn'd me? sacred innocence
That where thou fear'st, art dreadfull; and his face
Turn'd in flight from thee, that had thee in chace:
Come, bring me to him: I will tell the serpent
Euen to his teeth (whence, in mine honors soile,
A pitcht field starts vp twixt my Lord and mee)
That his throat lies, and he shall curse his fingers,
For being so gouern'd by his filthie soule.

Mont.
I know not, if himselfe will vaunt t'haue beene
The princely author of the slauish sinne,
Or any other; he would haue resolu'd mee,
Had you not come; not by his word, but writing,
Would I haue sworne to giue 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: Be not nice
For any trifle, ieweld with your honour,
To pawne your honor; and with it conferre
My neerest woman heere, in all she knowes;
Who (if the sunne or Cerberus could haue seene
Anie staine in mee) might as much as they:
And Pero, heere I charge thee by my loue,
And all proofes of it, (which I might call bounties)
By all that thou hast seene seeme good in mee,
And all the ill which thou shouldst spit from thee,
By pity of the wound, my Lord hath giuen mee,
Not as thy Mistresse now, but a poore woman
(To death giuen ouer:) rid me of my paines,
Powre on thy powder: cleere thy breast of me:
My Lord is only heere: heere speake thy worst,
Thy best will doe me mischiefe; If thou spar'st mee,
Neuer shine good thought on thy memorie:
Resolue my Lord, and leaue me desperate.

Pero.
My Lord? My Lord hath plaid a prodigals part,
To breake his Stocke 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 traine? To blow vp long crown'd peace
With sudden outrage? and beleeue a man
Sworne to the shame of women, gainst a woman,
Borne to their honours: Ile attend your Lordship.

Tam.
No, I will write (for I shall neuer more
Speake with the fugitiue) where I will defie him,
Were he ten times the brother of my king.

Exeunt.
Musicke: and she enters with her maid, bearing a letter.
Tam.
Away, deliuer it: O may my lines
(Fild with the poison of a womans hate
When he shall open them) shrinke vp his eies
With torturous darkenesse, such as stands in hell,
Stucke full of inward horrors, neuer lighted;
With which are all things to be fear'd, affrighted;
Father?

Ascendit Bussy with Comolet.
D'Amb.
How is it with my honour'd mistresse?

Tam.
O seruant helpe, and saue me from the gripes
Of shame and infamie.

D'Amb.
What insensate stocke,
Or rude inanimate vapour without fashion,
Durst take into his Epimethean breast
A box of such plagues as the danger yeeldes,
Incurd in this discouerie? He had better
Ventur'd his breast in the consuming reach
Of the hot surfets cast out of the cloudes,
Or stoode the bullets that (to wreake the skie)
The Cyclops ramme in Ioues artillerie.

Com.
Wee soone will take the darkenesse from his face
That did that deede of darkenesse; wee will know
What now the Monsieur and your husband doe;
What is contain'd within the secret paper
Offerd by Monsieur, and your loues euents:
To which ends (honour'd daughter) at your motion,
I haue put on these exorcising Rites,
And, by my power of learned holinesse
Vouchsaft me from aboue, I will command
Our resolution of a raised spirit.

Tamy.
Good father raise him in some beauteous forme,
That with least terror I may brooke his sight.

Com.
Stand sure together then, what ere ye see,
And stirre not, as ye tender all our liues.

Occidentalium legionum spiritalium imperator (magnus ille Behemoth)
veni, veni, comitatus cum Asaroth locotenente inuicto.
Adiuro te per stygis inscrutabilia arcana, per ipsos irremeabiles
anfractus auerni: adesto ô Behemoth, tu cui peruia
sunt Magnatum scrinia; veni, per Noctis & tenebrarum abdita
Thunder.
profundissima; per labentia sydera; per ipsos motus horarum
furtiuos, Hecatesq; altum silentium: Appare in forma
spiritali, lucente splendida & amabili.

Ascendit.
Beh.
What would the holy Frier?

Com.
I would see
What now the Monsieur and Mountsurrie doe;
And see the secret paper that the Monsieur
Offer'd to Count Montsurry, longing much
To know on what euents the secret loues
Of these two honor'd persons shall arriue.

Beh.
Why calledst thou me to this accursed light?
To these light purposes? I am Emperor
Of that inscrutable darkenesse, where are hid
All deepest truths, and secrets neuer seene,
All which I know, and command Legions
Of knowing spirits that can doe more than these.
Any of this my guard that circle mee
In these blew fires, and out of whose dim fumes
Vast murmurs vse to breake, and from their soundes
Articulat voices; can doe ten parts more
Than open such sleight truths, as you require.

Com.
From the last nights black depth, I cald vp one
Of the inferior ablest ministers,
And he could not resolue 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
Hast in thy power all papers so inscribde:
Glide through all barres to it and fetch that paper.

Car.
I will.

a torch remoues.
Com.
Till he returnes (great prince of darknesse)
Tell me, if Monsieur and the Count Montsurry
Are yet encounterd.

Beh.
Both them and the Guise
Are now together.

Com.
Shew vs all their persons,
And represent the place, with all their actions.

Beh.
The spirit will strait returne: and then Ile shew thee:
See he is come; why broughtst thou not the paper?

Cart.
He hath preuented 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'nuoke our powers
When first your acts, set foorth to their effects;
Yet shall you see it, and themselues: behold
They come heere & the Earle now holds the paper.

Ent. Mons. Gui. Mont:
Bus.
May we not heare them?

Mons.
No, be still and see.

Bus.
I will go fetch the paper.

Com.
Do not stir:
Ther's too much distance and too many lockes
Twixt you & them: (how neere so e're they seeme)
For any man to interrupt their secrets.

Tam.
O honord spirit: flie into the fancie
Of my offended Lord: and do not let him
Beleeue what there the wicked man hath written.

Pre.
Perswasion hath already enterd him
Beyond reflection; peace till their departure.

Mons.
There is a glasse of inke wherein you see
How to make ready black fac't Tragedy:
You now discerne, I hope through all her paintings
Her gasping wrinkles, and fames sepulchres.

Gui.
Thinke you he faines my Lord? what hold you now?
Doe we maligne your wife: or honour you?

Mons.
What stricken dumbe? nay fie, Lord be not danted:
Your case is common: were it ne're so rare
Beare it as rarely: now to laugh were manly:
A woorthy man should imitate the weather
That sings in tempests: and being cleere is silent.

Gui.
Goe home my Lord, and force your wife to write
Such louing stuffe to D'Ambois as she vsde
When she desir'd his presence.

Mons.
Doe my Lord,
And make her name her conceald messenger:
That close and most inennerable Pander
That passeth all our studies to exquire:
By whom conuay the letter to her loue:
And so you shall be sure to haue him come
Within the thirsty reach of your reuenge;
Before which, lodge an ambush in her chamber
Behind the arras of your stoutest men
All close and soundly armd: and let them share
A spirit amongst them, that would serue a thousand.

Gui.
Yet stay a little: see she sends for you.

Mons.
Poore, louing lady, she'le make all good yet,
Thinke you not so my Lord?

Gui.
Ahlas poore soule.

Mons.
This was ill done y'faith.

Exit Mont.
Per.
T'was nobly done.
And I forgiue his Lordship from my soule.

Mons.
Then much good doo't thee Pero: hast a letter?

Per.
I hope it be, at least, if not a volume
Of worthy curses for your periury.

Mons.
Now out vpon her.

Gui.
Let me see my Lord.

Mons.
You shall presently: how fares my Pero?
Whose 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. Guise.
Per.
Furies rise
Lead her out.
Out of the blacke lines, and torment his soule.

Tam.
Hath my Lord slaine my woman?

Beh.
No, she liues.

Com.
What shall become of vs?

Beh.
All I can say
Being cald thus late, is briefe, and darkly this:
If D'Ambois mistresse, stay not her white hand
With his forst bloud he shall remaine vntoucht:
So father, shall your selfe, but by your selfe:
To make this Augurie plainer: when the voice
Of D'Ambois shall inuoke me I will rise,
Shining in greater light: and shew him all
That will betide ye all; meane time be wise,
And let him curb his rage, with policy.

Descendit cum suis:
Buc.
Will he appeare to me, when I inuoke him?

Com.
He will: be sure.

Buc.
It must be shortly then:
For his darke words haue tied my thoughts on knots
Till he dissolue, and free them.

Tam.
In meane time
Deare seruant, till your powerfull voice reuoke him,
Be sure to vse the policy he aduis'd:
Lest fury in your too quicke knowledge taken
Of our abuse, and your defence of me
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
Will showre vpon our heads, if you put not
Your finger to the storme, and hold it vp,
As my deare seruant heere must do with Monsieur.

Bus.
Ile sooth his plots: and strow my hate with smiles
Till all at once the close mines of my heart
Rise at full date, and rush into his bloud:
Ile bind his arme in silke, and rub his flesh,
To make the vaine swell, that his soule may gush
Into some kennell, where it longs to lie,
And policy shalbe flanckt with policy.
Yet shall the feeling center where wee meet
Grone 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
Like calme security, before a ruine;
A politician, must like lightening melt
The very marrow, and not Print the skin:
His waies must not be seene: the superficies
Of the greene center must not taste his feet:
When hell is plowd vp with his wounding tracts:
And all his haruest reap't, from hellish facts.