 | Bussy D'Ambois, [1607] |  |
Actus secundi
Scena prima.
Henry, Guise, Beaumond, Nuncius.Henr.
This desperate quarrell sprung out of their enuies
To D'Ambois sudden brauerie, and great spirit.
Gui.
Neither is worth their enuie.
Henr.
Lesse then either
14
She feedes on outcast entrailes like a Kite:
In which foule heape, if any ill lies hid,
She sticks her beake into it, shakes it vp,
And hurl's it all abroad, that all may view it.
Corruption is her Nutriment; but touch her
With any precious ointment, and you kill her:
When she findes any filth in men, she feasts,
And with her blacke throat bruits it through the world;
(Being sound and healthfull) But if she but taste
The slenderest pittance of commended vertue,
She surfets of it, and is like a flie,
That passes all the bodies soundest parts,
And dwels vpon the sores; or if her squint eie
Haue power to finde none there, she forges some:
She makes that crooked euer which is strait;
Call's valour giddinesse, Iustice Tyrannie:
A wise man may shun her, she not her selfe;
Whither soeuer she flies from her Harmes,
She beares her Foe still claspt in her owne Armes:
And therefore cousen Guise let vs auoid her.
Enter Nuncius.
What Atlas, or Olympus lifts his head
So farre past Couert, that with aire enough
My words may be inform'd? And from his height
I may be seene, and heard through all the world?
A tale so worthie, and so fraught with wonder,
Sticks in my iawes, and labours with euent.
Henr.
Com'st thou from D'Ambois?
Nun.
From him, and the rest
His Friends and enemies; whose sterne fight I saw,
And heard their words before, and in the fray.
Henr.
Relate at large what thou hast seene and heard.
Nun.
I saw fierce D'Ambois, and his two braue friends
Enter the Field, and at their heeles their foes;
Which were the famous souldiers; Barrisor,
L'Anou, and Pyrrhot, great in deedes of Armes:
15
The field affoorded; The three Challengers
Turn'd head, drew all their rapiers, and stoode ranckt:
When face to face the three Defendants met them,
Alike prepar'd, and resolute alike,
Like bonfires of Contributorie wood:
Euerie mans looke shew'd, Fed with eithers spirit,
As one had beene a mirror to another,
Like formes of life and death, each tooke from other;
And so were life and death mixt at their heights,
That you could see no feare of death, for life;
Nor loue of life, for death: But in their browes
Pyrrho's Opinion in great letters shone;
That life and death in all respects are one.
Henr.
Past there no sort of words at their encounter?
Nun.
As Hector, twixt the Hosts of Greece and Troy,
(When Paris and the Spartane King should end
The nine yeeres warre) held vp his brasen launce
For signall, that both Hosts should cease from Armes,
And heare him speake: So Barrisor (aduis'd)
Aduanc'd his Naked Rapier twixt both sides,
Ript vp the Quarrell, and compar'd six liues;
Then laid in ballance with six idle words,
Offer'd remission and contrition too;
Or else that he and D'Ambois might conclude
The others dangers. D'Ambois lik'd the last;
But Barrisors friends (being equally engag'd
In the maine Quarrell) neuer would expose
His life alone, to that they all deseru'd.
And (for the other offer of remission)
D'Ambois (that like a Lawrell put in fire,
Sparkl'd and spit) did much much more than scorne,
That his wrong should incense him so like chaffe,
To goe so soone out; and like lighted paper,
Approoue his spirit at once both fire and ashes:
So drew they lots, and in them Fates appointed,
That Barrisor should fight with firie D'Ambois;
Pyrhot with Melynell; with Brisac L'Anou:
16
So spritely, that I wisht they had beene spirits,
That the ne're shutting wounds, they needes must open,
Might as they open'd, shut, and neuer kill:
But D'Ambois sword (that lightned as it flew)
Shot like a pointed Comet at the face
Of manly Barrisor; and there it stucke:
Thrice pluckt he at it, and thrice drew on thrusts,
From him, that of himselfe was free as fire;
Who thrust still as he pluckt, yet (past beliefe!)
He with his subtle eie, hand, bodie, scap't;
At last the deadly bitten point tuggd'd off,
On fell his yet vndaunted Foe so fiercely,
That (only made more horrid with his wound)
Great D'Ambois shrunke, and gaue a little ground;
But soone return'd, redoubled in his danger,
And at the heart of Barrisor seal'd his anger:
Then, as in Arden I haue seene an Oke
Long shooke with tempests, and his loftie toppe
Bent to his roote, which being at length made loose
(Euen groaning with his weight) he gan to Nodde
This way and that: as loth his curled Browes
(Which he had oft wrapt in the skie with stormes)
Should stoope: and yet, his radicall fiuers burst,
Storme-like he fell, and hid the feare-cold Earth.
So fell stout Barrisor, that had stoode the shockes
Often set Battles in your Highnesse warre,
Gainst the sole souldier of the world, Nauarre.
Gui.
O pitious and horrid murther!
Beau.
Such a life
Me thinkes had mettall in it to suruiue
An age of men.
Henr.
Such, often soonest end.
Thy felt report cals on, wee long to know
On what euents the other haue arriu'd.
Nun.
Sorrow and furie, like two opposite fumes,
Met in the vpper Region of a Cloud,
At the report made by this worthies fall,
17
Entring with fresh powers his two noble friends;
And vnder that ods fell surcharg'd Brisac,
The friend of D'Ambois, before fierce L'Anou;
Which D'Ambois seeing, as I once did see
In my yoong trauels through Armenia,
An angrie Vnicorne in his full carier
Charge with too quicke an eie a Ieweller,
That watcht him for the Treasure of his browe;
And ere he could get shelter of a tree,
Naile him with his rich Antler to the Earth:
So D'Ambois ranne vpon reueng'd L'Anou,
Who eying th'eager point borne in his face,
And giuing backe, fell backe, and in his fall
His foes vncurbed sword stopt in his heart:
By which time all the life strings of the tw'other
Were cut, and both fell as their spirits flew
Vpwards: and still hunt Honour at the view.
And now (of all the six) sole D'Ambois stood
Vntoucht, saue only with the others blood.
Henr.
All slaine outright?
Nun.
All slaine outright but he,
Who kneeling in the warme life of his friends,
(All feebled with the blood, his Rapier raind)
He kist their pale cheekes, and bade both farewell;
And see the brauest man the French earth beares.
Enter Monsieur, D'Amb. bare.
Buss.
Now is the time, y'are Princely vow'd my friend,
Performe it Princely, and obtaine my pardon.
Mons.
Else Heauen, forgiue not me: Come on braue friend.
If euer Nature held herselfe her owne,
When the great Triall of a King and subiect
Met in one blood, both from one bellie springing:
Now prooue her vertue and her greatnesse One,
Or make the t'one the greater with the t'other,
(As true Kings should) and for your brothers loue,
(Which is a speciall species of true vertue)
18
Henr.
Brother I know your suit; these wilfull murthers
Are euer past our pardon.
Mons.
Manly slaughter
Should neuer beare th account of wilfull murther;
It being a spice of iustice, where with life
Offending past law, equall life is laid
In equall ballance, to scourge that offence
By law of reputation, which to men
Exceedes all positiue law, and what that leaues
To true mens valours (not prefixing rights
Of satisfaction, suited to their wrongs)
A free mans eminence may supplie and take.
Henr.
This would make euerie man that thinks him wrongd,
Or is offended or in wrong or right,
Lay on this violence, and all vaunt themselues,
Law-menders and suppliers though meere Butchers;
Should this fact (though of iustice) be forgiuen?
Mons.
O no, my Lord; it would make Cowards feare
To touch the reputations of full men,
When only they are left to impe the law,
Iustice will soone distinguish murtherous mindes
From iust reuengers: Had my friend beene slaine,
(His enemie suruiuing) he should die,
Since he had added to a murther'd fame
(Which was in his intent) a murthered man;
And this had worthily beene wilfull murther:
But my friend only sau'd his fames deare life,
Which is aboue life, taking th'vnder value,
Which in the wrong it did, was forfeit to him;
And in this fact only preserues a man
In his vprightnesse; worthie to suruiue
Millions of such as murther men, aliue.
Henr.
Well brother, rise, and raise your friend withall
From death to life: and D'Ambois, let your life
(Refin'd by passing through this merited death)
Be purg'd from more such foule pollution;
Nor on your scape, nor valour more presuming,
19
Buss.
My Lord,
I loth as much a deede of vniust death,
As law it selfe doth; and to Tyrannise,
Because I haue a little spirit to dare,
And power to doe, as to be Tyranniz'd;
This is a grace that (on my knees redoubled)
I craue to double this my short lifes gift;
And shall your royall bountie Centuple,
That I may so make good what God and nature
Haue giuen mee for my good: since I am free,
(Offending no iust law) let no law make
By any wrong it does, my life her slaue:
When I am wrong'd and that law failes to right me,
Let me be King my selfe (as man was made)
And doe a iustice that exceedes the law:
If my wrong passe the power of single valour
To right and expiate; then be you my King,
And doe a Right, exceeding Law and Nature:
Who to himselfe is law, no law doth neede,
Offends no King, and is a King indeede.
Henr.
Enioy what thou intreat'st, we giue but ours.
Exit Rex cum Beau.
Buss.
What you haue giuen, my Lord, is euer yours.
Gui.
Mort dieu, who would haue pardon'd such a murther?
Exit.
Mons.
Now vanish horrors into Court attractions,
For which let this balme make thee fresh and faire.
Buss.
How shall I quite your loue?
Mons.
Be true to the end:
I haue obtain'd a Kingdome with my friend.
Exit,
Montsur. Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Pyrha.
Mont.
He will haue pardon sure.
Tam.
Twere pittie else:
For though his great spirit something ouerflow,
All faults are still borne, that from greatnesse grow:
But such a sudden Courtier saw I neuer.
Beau.
He was too sudden, which indeede was rudenesse.
Tam.
True, for it argued his no due conceit
20
Nor of our sex: all which (we all being strangers
To his encounter) should haue made more maners
Deserue more welcome.
Mont.
All this fault is found
Because he lou'd the Dutchesse and left you.
Tam.
Ahlas, loue giue her ioy; I am so farre
From Enuie of her honour, that I sweare,
Had he encounterd me with such proud sleight:
I would haue put that proiect face of his
To a more test, than did her Dutchesship.
Be.
Why (by your leaue my Lord) Ile speake it heere,
(Although she be my ante) she scarce was modest,
When she perceiued the Duke her husband take
Those late exceptions to her seruants Courtship
To entertaine him.
Tam.
I, and stand him still.
Letting her husband giue her seruant place:
Though he did manly, she should be a woman.
Enter Guise.
D'Ambois is pardond: wher's a king? where law?
See how it runnes, much like a turbulent sea;
Heere high, and glorious, as it did contend
To wash the heauens, and make the stars more pure:
And heere so low, it leaues the mud of hell
To euery common view: come count Montsurry
We must consult of this.
Tam.
Stay not, sweet Lord.
Mont.
Be pleased, Ile strait returne.
Exit cum Guise.
Tamy.
Would that would please me.
Beau.
Ile leaue you Madam to your passions.
I see, ther's change of weather in your lookes.
Exit cum suis.
Tamy.
I cannot cloake it: but; as when a fume,
Hot, drie and grosse: within the wombe of earth
Or in her superficies begot:
When extreame cold hath stroke it to her heart,
The more it is comprest, the more it rageth;
21
And then it tosseth Temples in the aire;
All barres made engines, to his insolent fury:
So, of a sudden, my licentious fancy
Riots within me: not my name and house
Nor my religion to this houre obseru'd
Can stand aboue it: I must vtter that
That will in parting breake more strings in me,
Than death when life parts: and that holy man
That, from my cradle, counseld for my soule:
I now must make an agent for my bloud.
Enter Monsieur.
Mons.
Yet, is my Mistresse gratious?
Tamy.
Yet vnanswered?
Mons.
Pray thee regard thine owne good, if not mine,
And cheere my Loue for that; you do not know
What you may be by me, nor what without me;
I may haue power t'aduance and pull downe any.
Tamy.
Thats not my study: one way I am sure
You shall not pull downe me: my husbands height
Is crowne to all my hopes: and his retiring
To any meane state, shalbe my aspiring:
Mine honour's in mine owne hands, spite of kings.
Mons.
Honour, whats that? your second maidenhead:
And what is that? a word: the word is gone
The thing remaines: the rose is pluckt, the stalke
Abides: an easie losse where no lack's found:
Beleeue it ther's as small lacke in the losse,
As there is paine ith losing: archers euer
Haue two strings to a bow: and shall great Cupid
(Archer of archers both in men and women)
Be worse prouided than a common archer?
A husband and a friend all wise wiues haue.
Tamy.
Wise wiues they are that on such strings depend,
With a firme husband, weighing a dissolute friend.
Mons.
Still you stand on your husband, so doe all
The common sex of you, when yare encounterd
22
You liue in court heere by your owne election,
Frequenting all our solemne sports and triumphs,
All the most youthfull companie of men:
And wherefore doe you this? To please your husband?
Tis grosse and fulsome: if your husbands pleasure
Be all your Obiect, and you aime at Honour,
In liuing close to him, get you from Court,
You may haue him at home; these common Puttof:
For common women serue: my honor? husband?
Dames maritorious, ne're were meritorious:
Speake plaine and say I do not like you Sir,
Y'are an illfauor'd fellow in my eie,
And I am answer'd.
Tamy.
Then I pray be answer'd:
For in good faith my Lord I do not like you
In that sort you like.
Mons.
Then haue at you heere:
Take (with a politique hand) this rope of Pearle;
And though you be not amorous: yet be wise:
Take me for wisdome; he that you can loue
Is neere the further from you.
Tamy.
Now it comes
So ill prepar'd, that I may take a poison,
Vnder a medicine as good cheape as it:
I will not haue it were it worth the world.
Mons.
Horror of death: could I but please your eie,
You would giue me the like, ere you would loose me:
Honor and husband?
Tamy.
By this light my Lord
Y'are a vile fellow: and Ile tell the King
Your occupation of dishonouring Ladies
And of his Court: a Lady cannot liue
As she was borne; and with that sort of pleasure
That fits her state: but she must be defam'd
With an infamous Lords detraction:
Who would endure the Court if these attempts,
Of open and profest lust must be borne?
23
When men are at your mistresse; haue I taught you
Any such waiting womans qualitie?
Mons.
Farewell good husband.
Exit Mons.
Mont.
Farewell wicked Lord.
Enter Mons.
Mont.
Was not the Monsieur heere?
Tam.
Yes, to good purpose.
And your cause is as good to seeke him too
And haunt his company.
Mont.
Why what's the matter?
Tam.
Matter of death, were I some husbands wife:
I cannot liue at quiet in my chamber
For opportunities almost to rapes
Offerd me by him.
Mont.
Pray thee beare with him:
Thou know'st he is a Bachelor, and a Courtier,
I, and a Prince: and their prerogatiues
Are, to their lawes, as to their pardons are
Their reseruations, after Parliaments
One quits another: forme giues al their essence:
That Prince doth high in vertues reckoning stand
That will entreat a vice, and not command:
So far beare with him: should another man
Trust to his priuiledge, he should trust to death:
Take comfort then (my comfort) nay triumph,
And crown thy selfe, thou part'st with victory:
My presence is so only deare to thee,
That other mens appeare worse than they be.
For this night yet, beare with my forced absence:
Thou know'st my businesse; and with how much weight,
My vow hath charged it.
Tam.
True my Lord, and neuer
My fruitlesse loue shall let your serious profit,
Yet, sweet Lord, do not stay, you know my soule
Is so long time without me, and I dead
As you are absent.
24
By this kisse, receiue
My soule for hostage, till I see my loue.
Tam.
The morne shall let me see you:
Mont.
With the sunne
Ile visit thy more comfortable beauties.
Tam.
This is my comfort, that the sunne hath left
The whole worlds beauty ere my sunne leaues me.
Mont.
Tis late night now indeed: farewell my light.
Exit.
Tam.
Farewell my light and life: But not in him.
Alas, that in the waue of our affections
We should supplie it with a full dissembling,
In which each yoongest maid is growne a mother,
Frailtie is fruitfull, one sinne gets another:
Our loues like sparkles are that brightest shine,
When they goe out; most vice shewes most diuine:
Goe maid, to bed, lend me your booke I pray:
Not like your selfe, for forme, Ile this night trouble
None of your seruices: Make sure the doores,
And call your other fellowes to their rest.
Per.
I will, yet I will watch to know why you watch.
Exit.
Tam.
Now all the peacefull regents of the night,
Silently-gliding exhalations,
Languishing windes, and murmuring fals of waters,
Sadnesse of heart, and ominous securenesse,
Enchantments, dead sleepes, all the friends of rest,
That euer wrought vpon the life of man,
Extend your vtmost strengths; and this charm'd houre
Fix like the Center; make the violent wheeles
Of Time and Fortune stand; and Great Existens
(The Makers treasurie) now not seeme to bee,
To all but my approaching friends and mee:
They come, alas they come, feare, feare and hope
Of one thing, at one instant fight in mee:
I loue what most I loath, and cannot liue
Vnlesse I compasse that that holds my death:
For loue is hatefull without loue againe,
And he I loue, will loth me, when he sees
I flie my sex, my vertue, my Renowne,
25
See, see the gulfe is opening, that will swallow
Me and my fame for euer; I will in,
And cast my selfe off, as I ne're had beene.
Exit.
Com.
Come worthiest sonne, I am past measure glad,
That you (whose worth I haue approou'd so long)
Should be the Obiect of her fearefull loue;
Since both your wit and spirit can adapt
Their full force to supplie her vtmost weakenesse:
You know her worths and vertues, for Report
Of all that know, is to a man a knowledge:
You know besides, that our affections storme,
Rais'd in our blood, no Reason can reforme.
Though she seeke then their satisfaction,
(Which she must needes, or rest vnsatisfied)
Your iudgement will esteeme her peace thus wrought,
Nothing lesse deare, than if your selfe had sought:
And (with another colour, which my Art
Shall teach you to lay on) your selfe must seeme
The only agent, and the first Orbe Moue,
In this our set, and cunning world of Loue.
Buss.
Giue me the colour (my most honour'd Father)
And trust my cunning then to lay it on.
Com.
Tis this, good sonne; Lord Barrisor (whom you slew)
Did loue her dearely, and with all fit meanes
Hath vrg'd his acceptation, of all which
She keepes one letter written in his blood:
You must say thus then, That you heard from mee
How much her selfe was toucht in conscience
With a Report (which is in truth disperst)
That your maine quarrell grew about her loue,
Lord Barrisor, imagining your Courtship
Of the great Guises Duchesse in the Presence,
Was by you made to his elected mistresse:
And so made me your meane now to resolue her,
Chosing (by my direction) this nights depth,
For the more cleere auoiding of all note,
Of your presumed presence, and with this
26
She will so kindely thanke and entertaine you,
(Me thinkes I see how) I, and ten to one,
Shew you the confirmation in his blood,
Lest you should thinke report and she did faine,
That you shall so haue circumstantiall meanes,
To come to the direct, which must be vsed:
For the direct is crooked; Loue comes flying;
The height of loue is still wonne with denying.
D'Amb.
Thankes honoured Father.
Commolet.
She must neuer know
That you know any thing of any loue
Sustain'd on her part: For learne this of mee;
In any thing a woman does alone,
If she dissemble, she thinkes tis not done;
If not dissemble, nor a little chide,
Giue her her wish, she is not satisfi'd;
To haue a man thinke that she neuer seekes,
Does her more good than to haue all she likes:
This frailtie sticks in them beyond their sex;
Which to reforme, reason is too perplex:
Vrge reason to them, it will doe no good;
Humour (that is the charriot of our foode
In euerie bodie) must in them be fed,
To carrie their affections by it bred.
Stand close.
Enter Tamyra.
Tam.
Alas, I feare my strangenesse will retire him:
If he goe backe, I die; I must preuent it,
And cheare his onset with my sight at least,
And thats the most; though euerie step he takes
Goes to my heart, Ile rather die than seeme
Not to be strange to that I most esteeme.
Com.
Madam.
Tamy.
Ah.
Com.
You will pardon me, I hope,
That, so beyond your expectation,
27
I (with my noble friend heere) visit you:
You know that my accesse at any time
Hath euer beene admitted; and that friend
That my care will presume to bring with mee,
Shall haue all circumstance of worth in him,
To merit as free welcome as my selfe.
Tamy.
O father, but at this suspicious houre
You know how apt best men are to suspect vs,
In any cause, that makes suspicious shadow
No greater than the shadow of a haire:
And y'are to blame: what though my Lord and husband
Lie foorth to night? and since I cannot sleepe
When he is absent, I sit vp to night,
Though all the doores are sure, & all our seruants
As sure bound with their sleepes; yet there is one
That sits aboue, whose eie no sleepe can binde:
He sees through doores, and darkenesse, and our thoughts;
And therefore as we should auoid with feare,
To thinke amisse our selues before his search;
So should we be as curious to shunne
All cause that other thinke not ill of vs.
D'Amb.
Madam, tis farre from that: I only heard
By this my honour'd father, that your conscience
Was something troubled with a false report;
That Barrisors blood should something touch your hand,
Since he imagin'd I was courting you,
When I was bold to change words with the Duchesse,
(And therefore made his quarrell; which my presence
Presum'd on with my father at this season,
For the more care of your so curious honour)
Can well resolue your Conscience, is most false.
Tam.
And is it therefore that you come good sir?
Then craue I now your pardon and my fathers,
And sweare your presence does me so much comfort,
That all I haue, it bindes to your requitall:
Indeede sir, tis most true that a report
Is spread, alleaging that his loue to mee
28
You shall not thinke I faine it for my glorie,
That he importun'd me for his Court seruice,
Ile shew you his owne hand, set downe in blood
To that vaine purpose: Good Sir, then come in.
Father I thanke you now a thousand fold.
Com.
May it be worth it to you honour'd daughter.
Finis Actus secundi.
| Bussy D'Ambois, [1607] | |