 | The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois |  |
Actus quinti
Scæna prima.
Ascendit Vmbra Bussi.Vmb.
Vp from the Chaos of eternall night,
(To vvhich the whole digestion of the world
Is now returning) once more I ascend,
And bide the cold dampe of this piercing ayre.
To vrge the iustice, whose almightie word
Measures the bloudy acts of impious men,
With equall pennance, who in th' act it selfe
Includes th' infliction, which like chained shot
Batter together still; though (as the thunder
Seemes, by mens duller hearing then their sight,
To breake a great time after lightning forth,
Yet both at one time teare the labouring cloud,)
So men thinke pennance of their ils is slow,
Though th' ill and pennance still together goe.
Reforme yee ignorant men, your manlesse liues
Whose lawes yee thinke are nothing but your lusts,
When leauing but for supposition sake,
The body of felicitie (Religion)
Set in the midst of Christendome, and her head
Cleft to her bosome; one halfe one vvay swaying
Another th' other: all the Christian world
And all her lawes, vvhose obseruation,
Stands vpon faith, aboue the power of reason:
Leauing (I say) all these, this might suffice,
To fray yee from your vicious swindge in ill,
That since the vvorld (as vvhich of you denies)
Stands by proportion, all may thence conclude,
That all the ioynts and nerues sustaining nature,
As well may breake, and yet the vvorld abide,
As any one good vnrewarded die,
Or any one ill scape his penaltie.
The Ghost stands close.
Enter Guise, Clermont.
Gui.
Thus (friend) thou seest how all good men would thriue,
Did not the good thou prompt'st me with preuent,
The iealous ill pursuing them in others.
But now thy dangers are dispatcht, note mine:
Hast thou not heard of that admired voyce,
That at the Barricadoes spake to mee,
(No person seene) Let's leade (my Lord) to Reimes?
Cler.
Nor could you learne the person?
Guise.
By no meanes.
Cler.
Twas but your fancie then awaking dreame:
For as in sleepe, which bindes both th' outward senses,
And the sense common to; th' imagining power
(Stird vp by formes hid in the memories store,
Or by the vapours of o'er-flowing humours
In bodies full and foule; and mixt vvith spirits,)
Faines many strange, miraculous images,
In which act, it so painfully applyes
It selfe to those formes, that the common sense
It actuates with his motion; and thereby
Those fictions true seeme, and haue reall act:
So, in the strength of our conceits, awake,
The cause alike, doth of like fictions make.
Guise.
Be what it vvill, twas a presage of something
Waightie and secret, vvhich th'aduertisements
I haue receiu'd from all parts, both vvithout,
And in this Kingdome, as from Rome and Spaine
Soccaine and Sauoye, giues me cause to thinke,
All vvriting that our plots Catastrophe,
For propagation of the Catholique cause,
Cler.
Retyre then from them all.
Guise.
I must not doe so.
The Arch-Bishop of Lyons tels me plaine
I shall be said then to abandon France
In so important an occasion:
And that mine enemies (their profit making
Of my faint absence) soone would let that fall,
That all my paines did to this height exhale.
Cler.
Let all fall that would rise vnlawfully:
Make not your forward spirit in vertues right,
A property for vice, by thrusting on
Further then all your powers can fetch you off.
It is enough, your will is infinite
To all things vertuous and religious,
Which within limits kept, may without danger,
Let vertue some good from your Graces gather,
Auarice of all is euer nothings father.
Vmb.
Danger (the spurre of all great mindes) is euer
The curbe to your tame spirits; you respect not
(With all your holinesse of life and learning)
More then the present, like illiterate vulgars,
Your minde (you say) kept in your fleshes bounds,
Showes that mans will must rul'd be by his power:
When (by true doctrine) you are taught to liue
Rather without the body, then within;
And rather to your God still then your selfe:
To liue to him, is to doe all things fitting
His Image, in which, like himselfe we liue;
To be his Image, is to doe those things,
That make vs deathlesse, which by death is onely;
Doing those deedes that fit eternitie,
And those deedes are the perfecting that Iustice,
That makes the world last, which proportion is
Of punishment and wreake for euery wrong,
As well as for right a reward as strong:
Away then, vse the meanes thou hast to right
The wrong I suffer'd. What corrupted Law
And be aboue them all in dignitie.
Exit.
Guise.
Why stand'st thou still thus, and applyest thine eares,
And eyes to nothing?
Cler.
Saw you nothing here?
Guise.
Thou dream'st, awake now; what was here to see?
Cler.
My Brothers spirit, vrging his reuenge.
Guise.
Thy Brothers spirit! pray thee mocke me not.
Cler.
No, by my loue and seruice.
Guise.
Would he rise,
And not be thundring threates against the Guise?
Cler.
You make amends for enmitie to him,
With tenne parts more loue, and desert of mee;
And as you make your hate to him, no let
Of any loue to mee; no more beares hee
(Since you to me supply it) hate to you.
Which reason and which Iustice is perform'd
In Spirits tenne parts more then fleshy men.
To whose fore-sights our acts and thoughts lie open:
And therefore since hee saw the treacherie
Late practis'd by my brother Baligny,
Hee would not honor his hand with the iustice
(As hee esteemes it) of his blouds reuenge,
To which my Sister needes would haue him sworne,
Before she would consent to marry him.
Guise.
O Baligny, who would beleeue there were
A man, that (onely since his lookes are rais'd
Vpwards, and haue but sacred heauen in sight)
Could beare a minde so more then diuellish?
As for the painted glory of the countenance,
Flitting in Kings, doth good for nought esteeme,
And the more ill hee does, the better seeme.
Cler.
Wee easily may beleeue it, since we see
In this worlds practise few men better be.
Iustice to liue doth nought but Iustice neede,
But Policie must still on mischiefe feede.
Vntruth for all his ends, truths name doth sue in;
None safely liue, but those that study ruine.
Ill men aduanc'd liue of the common bloud.
Guise.
But this thy brothers spirit startles mee,
These spirits seld or neuer hanting men,
But some mishap ensues.
Cler.
Ensue what can:
Tyrants may kill, but neuer hurt a man;
All to his good makes, spight of death and hell.
Enter Aumall.
Aum.
All the desert of good, renowne your Highnesse.
Guise.
Welcome Aumall.
Cler.
My good friend, friendly welcome.
How tooke my noblest mistresse the chang'd newes?
Aum.
It came too late sir, for those loueliest eyes
(Through which a soule look't so diuinely louing,
Teares nothing vttering her distresse enough)
She wept quite out, and like two falling Starres
Their dearest sights quite vanisht with her teares.
Cler.
All good forbid it.
Guise.
What euents are these?
Cler.
All must be borne my Lord; and yet this chance
Would willingly enforce a man to cast off
All power to beare with comfort, since hee sees
In this, our comforts made our miseries.
Guise.
How strangely thou art lou'd of both the sexes;
Yet thou lou'st neyther, but the good of both.
Cler.
In loue of women, my affection first
Takes fire out of the fraile parts of my bloud;
Which till I haue enioy'd, is passionate,
Like other louers: but fruition past.
I then loue out of iudgement; the desert
Of her I loue, still sticking in my heart,
Though the desire, and the delight be gone,
Which must chance still, since the comparison
Made vpon tryall twixt what reason loues,
And what affection, makes in mee the best
Euer preferd; what most loue, valuing lest.
Thy loue being iudgement then, and of the minde,
Marry thy worthiest mistresse now being blinde.
Cler.
If there were loue in mariage so I would;
But I denie that any man doth loue,
Affecting vviues, maides, widowes, any women:
For neither Flyes loue milke, although they drowne
In greedy search thereof; nor doth the Bee
Loue honey, though the labour of her life
Is spent in gathering it; nor those that fat
Or beasts, or fowles, doe any thing therein
For any loue: for as when onely nature
Moues men to meate, as farre as her power rules,
Shee doth it with a temperate appetite,
The too much men deuoure, abhorring nature;
And in our most health, is our most disease:
So, when humanitie rules men and vvomen.
Tis for societie confinde in reason.
But what excites the beds desire in bloud,
By no meanes iustly can be construed loue;
For when loue kindles any knowing spirit,
It ends in vertue and effects diuine;
And is in friendship chaste, and masculine.
Guise.
Thou shalt my Mistresse be; me thinkes my bloud
Is taken vp to all loue vvith thy vertues.
And howsoeuer other men despise
These Paradoxes strange, and too precise,
Since they hold on the right way of our reason,
I could attend them euer. Come, away;
Performe thy brothers thus importun'd wreake;
And I will see what great affaires the King
Hath to employ my counsell, which he seemes
Much to desire, and more and more esteemes.
Exit.
Enter Henry, Baligny, with sixe of the guard.
Hen.
Saw you his sawcie forcing of my hand
To D'Ambois freedome?
Bal.
Saw, and through mine eyes
Let sire into my heart, that burn'd to beare
Hen.
The more Kings beare at Subiects hands, the more
Their lingring Iustice gathers; that resembles
The waightie, and the goodly-bodied Eagle,
Who (being on earth) before her shady wings
Can raise her into ayre, a mightie way
Close by the ground she runnes; but being aloft,
All shee commands, she flyes at; and the more
Death in her Seres beares, the more time shee stayes
Her thundry stoope from that on which shee preyes.
Bal.
You must be then more secret in the waight
Of these your shadie counsels, who will else
Beare (where such sparkes flye as the Guise and D'Ambois)
Pouder about them. Counsels (as your entrailes)
Should be vnpierst and sound-kept; for not those,
Whom you discouer, you neglect; but ope
A ruinous passage to your owne best hope.
Hen.
Wee haue Spies set on vs, as we on others;
And therefore they that serue vs must excuse vs,
If what wee most hold in our hearts, take winde,
Deceit hath eyes that see into the minde.
But this plot shall be quicker then their twinckling,
On whose lids Fate, with her dead waight shall lie,
And Confidence that lightens ere she die.
Friends of my Guard, as yee gaue othe to be
True to your Soueraigne, keepe it manfully:
Your eyes haue witnest oft th' Ambition
That neuer made accesse to me in Guise
But Treason euer sparkled in his eyes:
Which if you free vs of, our safetie shall
You not our Subiects, but our Patrons call.
Omnes.
Our duties binde vs, hee is now but dead.
Hen.
Wee trust in it, and thanke ye. Baligny,
Goe lodge their ambush, and thou God that art
Fautor of Princes, thunder from the skies,
Beneath his hill of pride this Gyant Guise.
Exeunt.
Tam.
I see y'are Seruant, sir, to my deare sister,
The Lady of her lou'd Baligny.
Char.
Madame I am bound to her vertuous bounties,
For that life which I offer in her vertuous seruice,
To the reuenge of her renowned brother.
Tam.
She writes to mee as much, and much desires,
That you may be the man, whose spirit shee knowes
Will cut short off these long and dull delayes,
Hitherto bribing the eternall Iustice:
Which I beleeue, since her vnmatched spirit
Can iudge of spirits, that haue her sulphure in them;
But I must tell you, that I make no doubt,
Her liuing brother will reuenge her dead,
On whom the dead impos'd the taske, and hee,
I know, will come t'effect it instantly.
Char.
They are but words in him; beleeue them not.
Tam.
See; this is the vault, where he must enter:
Where now I thinke hee is.
Enter Renel at the vault, with the Countesse being blinde.
Ren.
God saue you Lady.
What Gentleman is this, with whom you trust
The deadly waightie secret of this houre?
Tam.
One that your selfe will say, I well may trust.
Ren.
Then come vp Madame.
He helps the Countesse vp.
See here honour'd Lady,
A Countesse that in loues mishap doth equall
At all parts your wrong'd selfe; and is the mistresse
Of your slaine seruants brother; in whose loue
For his late treachrous apprehension,
She wept her faire eyes from her Iuory browes,
And would haue wept her soule out, had not I
Promist to bring her to this mortall quarrie,
That by her lost eyes for her seruants loue,
She might coniure him from this sterne attempt,
In which, (by a most ominous dreame shee had)
Out of this place the Sunne shall see him liue.
Char.
I am prouided then to take his place,
And vndertaking on me.
Ren.
You sir, why?
Char.
Since I am charg'd so by my mistresse,
His mournfull sister.
Tam.
See her Letter sir.
Hee reades.
Good Madame, I rue your fate, more then mine,
And know not how to order these affaires,
They stand on such occurrents.
Ren.
This indeede,
I know to be your Lady mistresse hand,
And know besides, his brother will, and must
Indure no hand in this reuenge but his.
Enter Vmbr. Bussy.
Umb.
Away, dispute no more; get vp, and see,
Clermont must auchthor this iust Tragedie.
Coun.
Who's that?
Ren.
The spirit of Bussy.
Tam.
O my seruant! let vs embrace.
Umb.
Forbeare. The ayre, in which
My figures liknesse is imprest, will blast,
Let my reuenge for all loues satisfie,
In vvhich (dame) feare not, Clermont shall not dye:
No word dispute more, vp, and see th' euent.
Exeunt Ladyes.
Make the Guard sure Renel; and then the doores
Command to make fast, when the Earle is in.
Exit Ren.
The blacke soft-footed houre is now on wing,
Which for my iust wreake, Ghosts shall celebrate,
With dances dire, and of infernall state.
Exit.
Enter Guise.
Guise.
Who sayes that death is naturall, vvhen nature
Is with the onely thought of it, dismaid?
I haue had Lotteries set vp for my death,
And I haue drawne beneath my trencher one,
Knit in my hand-kerchiefe another lot,
The word being; Y'are a dead man if you enter,
Shrincke at in spight of me; their solidst part
Melting like snow within mee, with colde fire:
I hate my selfe, that seeking to rule Kings,
I cannot curbe my slaue. Would any spirit
Free, manly, Princely, wish to liue to be
Commanded by this masse of slauerie,
Since Reason, Iudgement, Resolution,
And scorne of what we feare, will yeeld to feare?
While this same sincke of sensualitie swels,
Who would liue sinking in it? and not spring
Vp to the Starres, and leaue this carrion here,
For Wolfes, and Vultures, and for Dogges to teare?
O Clermont D' Ambois, wert thou here to chide
This softnesse from my flesh, farre as my reason,
Farre as my resolution, not to stirre
One foote out of the way, for death and hell.
Let my false man by falshood perish here,
There's no way else to set my true man cleere.
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
The King desires your Grace to come to Councill.
Guise.
I come. It cannot be: hee will not dare
To touch me with a treacherie so prophane.
Would Clermont now were here, to try how hee
Would lay about him, if this plot should be:
Here would be tossing soules into the skie.
Who euer knew bloud sau'd by treacherie?
Well, I must on, and will; what should I feare?
Not against two, Alcides? against two
And Hercules to friend, the Guise will goe.
He takes vp the Arras, and the Guard enters vpon him: hee drawes.
Guise.
Holde murtherers.
They strike him downe.
So then, this is confidence
In greatnes, not in goodnes: wher is the king?
The king comes in sight with Es. Sois. & others.
Let him appeare to iustifie his deede.
Take her flight through them, and my tongue hath strength
To vrge his tyrannie.
Hen.
See sir, I am come
To iustifie it before men, and God,
Who knowes with what wounds in my heart for woe
Of your so wounded faith, I made these wounds,
Forc't to it by an insolence of force
To stirre a stone, nor is a rocke oppos'd
To all the billowes of the churlish sea,
More beate, and eaten with them, then was I
With your ambitious mad Idolatrie;
And this bloud I shed, is to saue the bloud
Of many thousands.
Guise.
That's your white pretext,
But you will finde one drop of bloud shed lawlesse,
Will be the fountaine to a purple sea:
The present lust, and shift made for Kings liues
Against the pure forme, and iust power of Law,
Will thriue like shifters purchases; there hangs
A blacke Starre in the skies, to which the Sunne
Giues yet no light, will raine a poyson'd shower
Into your entrailes, that will make you feele
How little safetie lies in treacherous steele.
Hen.
Well sir, Ile beare it; y'haue a Brother to,
Bursts with like threates, the skarlet Cardinall:
Seeke, and lay hands on him; and take this hence,
Their blouds, for all you, on my conscience.
Exit.
Guise.
So sir, your full swindge take; mine, death hath curb'd.
Clermont, farewell: O didst thou see but this:
But it is better, see by this the Ice
Broke to thine owne bloud, which thou wilt despise,
When thou hear'st mine shed. Is there no friend here
Will beare my loue to him?
Aum.
I will, my Lord.
Guise.
Thankes with my last breath: recommend me then
To the most worthy of the race of men.
Dyes. Exeunt.
Enter Monts. and Tamyra.
Mont.
Who haue you let into my house?
Tam.
I, none.
Tis false, I sauour the the rancke bloud of foes
In euery corner.
Tam.
That you may doe well,
It is the bloud you lately shed, you smell.
Mont.
Sdeath the vault opes.
The gulfe opens.
Tam.
What vault? hold your sword.
Clermont ascends.
Cler.
No, let him vse it.
Mont.
Treason, murther, murther.
Cler.
Exclaime not; tis in vaine, and base in you,
Being one, to onely one.
Mont.
O bloudy strumpet!
Cler.
With what bloud charge you her? it may be mine
As well as yours; there shall not any else
Enter or touch you: I conferre no guards,
Nor imitate the murtherous course you tooke;
But single here, will haue my former challenge,
Now answer'd single, not a minute more
My brothers bloud shall stay for his reuenge,
If I can act it; if not, mine shall adde
A double conquest to you, that alone
Put it to fortune now, and vse no ods.
Storme not, nor beate your selfe thus gainst the dores,
Like to a sauage vermine in a trap:
All dores are sure made, and you cannot scape,
But by your valour.
Mont.
No, no, come and kill mee.
Cler.
If you will die so like a beast, you shall,
But when the spirit of a man may saue you,
Doe not so shame man, and a Noble man.
Mont.
I doe not show this basenesse, that I feare thee,
But to preuent and shame thy victory,
Which of one base is base, and so Ile die.
Cler.
Here then.
Mon.
Stay, hold one thought hath harden'd me,
He starts vp.
And since I must afford thee victorie,
If shall be great braue, if one request
Thou wilt admit mee.
Cler.
What's that?
Mont.
Giue me leaue
To fetch and vse the sword thy Brother gaue mee
When he was brauely giuing vp his life.
Cler.
No, Ile not fight against my brothers sword,
Not that I feare it, but since tis a tricke,
Mont.
By all truth, no:
Take but my honourable othe, I will not.
Cler.
Your honourable othe, plaine truth no place has
Where othes are honourable.
Tam.
Trust not his othe.
Hee will lie like a Lapwing, when shee flyes
Farre from her sought nest, still here tis shee cryes.
Mont.
Out on thee damme of Diuels. I will quite
Disgrace thy braues conquest, die, not fight.
Lyes downe.
Tam.
Out on my fortune to wed such an abiect.
Now is the peoples voyce, the voyce of God;
Hee that to wound a vvoman vants so much,
(As hee did mee) a man dares neuer touch.
Cler.
Reuenge your wounds now madame, I resigne him
Vp to your full vvill, since hee will not fight.
First you shall torture him (as hee did you,
And Iustice wils) and then pay I my vow.
Here, take this Ponyard.
Mont.
Sinke Earth, open Heauen,
And let fall vengeance.
Tam.
Come sir, good sir hold him.
Mont.
O shame of women, whither art thou fled!
Cler.
Why (good my Lord) is it a greater shame
For her then you? come, I will be the bands
You vs'd to her, prophaning her faire hands.
Mont.
No sir, Ile fight now, and the terror be
Of all you Champions to such as shee.
I did but thus farre dally: now obserue,
O all you aking fore-heads that haue rob'd,
Your hands of weapons, and your hearts of valour,
Ioyne in mee all your rages, and rebutters,
And into dust ram this same race of Furies,
In this one relicke of the Ambois gall,
In his one purple soule shed, drowne it all.
Fight.
Mont.
Now giue me breath a while.
Cler.
Receiue it freely.
Mont.
What thinke y'a this now?
Cler.
It is very noble.
And thus wee see (where valour most doth vant)
What tis to make a coward valiant.
Mont.
Now I shall grace your conquest.
Cler.
That you shall.
Mont.
If you obtaine it.
Cler.
True sir, tis in fortune.
Mont.
If you were not a D'Ambois, I would scarce
Change liues with you, I feele so great a change
In my tall spirits breath'd, I thinke, with the breath
A D'Ambois breathes here, and necessitie
(With whose point now prickt on, and so, vvhose helpe
My hands may challenge, that doth all men conquer,
If shee except not you, of all men onely)
May change the case here.
Cler.
True as you are chang'd,
Her power in me vrg'd, makes y'another man,
Then yet you euer were.
Mont.
Well, I must on.
Cler.
Your Lordship must by all meanes.
Mon.
Then at all.
Fights, and D' Ambois hurts him.
Charlotte aboue.
Char.
Death of my father: what a shame is this,
Sticke in his hands thus?
Ren.
Gentle sir forbeare.
Coun.
Is he not slaine yet?
She gets downe.
Ren.
No Madame, but hurt in diuers parts of him.
Mont.
Y' haue giuen it me,
And yet I feele life for another vennie,
Enter Charlotte.
Cler.
What would you sir?
Char.
I would performe this Combat.
Cler.
Against which of vs?
Char.
I care not much if twere
Against thy selfe: thy sister would haue sham'd,
To haue thy Brothers wreake with any man
(In single combat) sticke so in her fingers.
Cler.
My Sister? know you her?
Tam.
I sir, shee sent him,
With this kinde Letter, to performe the vvreake
Cler.
Now alas good sir,
Thinke you you could doe more?
Char.
Alas? I doe,
And wer't not, I, fresh, sound, should charge a man
Weary, and vvounded, I would long ere this,
Haue prou'd what I presume on.
Cler.
Y'haue a minde
Like to my Sister, but haue patience now,
If next charge speede not, Ile resigne to you.
Mont.
Pray thee let him decide it.
Cler.
No, my Lord,
I am the man in fate, and since so brauely
Your Lordship stands mee, scape but one more charge,
And on my life, Ile set your life at large.
Mont.
Said like a D'Ambois, and if now I die,
Sit ioy and all good on thy victorie.
Fights, and fals downe.
Mon.
(Hee giues his hand to Cler. and his Wife.)
Farewell, I hartily forgiue thee. Wife,
And thee, let penitence spend thy rest of life.
Cler.
Noble and Christian.
Tam.
O it breakes my heart.
Cler.
And should, for all faults found in him before,
These words, this end, makes full amends and more.
Rest worthy soule, and vvith it the deare spirit
Of my lou'd Brother, rest in endlesse peace:
Soft lie thy bones Heauen be your soules abode,
And to your ashes be the earth no lode.
Musicke, and the Ghost of Bussy enters, leading the Ghost of the Guise; Monsieur, Cardinall Guise, and Shattilion, they dance about the dead body, and Exeunt.
Cler.
How strange is this? the Guise amongst these spirits,
And his great Brother Cardinall, both yet liuing,
And that the rest vvith them, vvith ioy thus celebrate
This our reuenge? This certainely presages
Some instant death both to the Guise and Cardinall.
That the Shattilians Ghost to should thus ioyne
In celebration of this iust reuenge,
It seemes that now he doth approue the act,
And these true shadowes of the Guise and Cardinall,
Fore-running thus their bodies, may approue
That all things to be done, as here wee liue,
Are done before all times in th'other life.
That Spirits should rise in these times yet are fables;
Though learnedst men hold that our sensiue spirits
A little time abide about the graues
Of their deceased bodies; and can take
In colde condenc't ayre, the same formes they had,
When they were shut vp in this bodies shade.
Enter Aumall.
Aum.
O Sir, the Guise is slaine.
Cler.
Auert it Heauen.
Aum.
Sent for to Councill, by the King, an ambush
(Lodg'd for the purpose) rusht on him, and tooke
His Princely life; who sent (in dying then)
His loue to you, as to the best of men.
Cler.
The worst, and most accurst of things creeping
On earths sad bosome. Let me pray yee all
A little to forbeare, and let me vse
Freely mine owne minde in lamenting him.
Ile call yee straight againe.
Aum.
We will forbeare, and leaue you free sir.
Exeunt.
Cler.
Shall I liue, and hee
Dead, that alone gaue meanes of life to me?
There's no disputing with the acts of Kings,
Reuenge is impious on their sacred persons:
And could I play the worldling (no man louing
Longer then gaine is reapt, or grace from him)
I should suruiue, and shall be wondred at,
(Though in mine owne hands being) I end with him:
But Friendship is the Sement of two mindes,
As of one man the soule and body is,
Of which one cannot seuer, but the other
Suffers a needfull separation.
Descend Ren. & Coun.
Ren.
I feare your seruant, Madame: let's descend.
Since I could skill of man, I neuer liu'd
To please men worldly, and shall I in death,
Respect their pleasures, making such a iarre
Betwixt my death and life, when death should make
The consort sweetest; th'end being proofe and crowne
To all the skill and worth wee truely owne?
Guise, O my Lord, how shall I cast from me
The bands and couerts hindring me from thee?
The garment or the couer of the minde,
The humane soule is; of the soule, the spirit
The proper robe is; of the spirit, the bloud;
And of the bloud, the body is the shrowd.
With that must I beginne then to vnclothe,
And come at th'other. Now then as a ship,
Touching at strange, and farre remoued shores;
Her men a shore goe, for their seuerall ends,
Fresh water, victuals, precious stones, and pearle,
All yet intentiue when (the master cals,
The Ship to put off ready) to leaue all
Their greediest labours, lest they there be left,
To the cues, or beasts or be the Countries slaues:
So, now my master cals, my ship, my venture
All in one bottome put, all quite put off,
Gone vnder saile, and I left negligent,
To all the horrors of the vicious time,
The farre remou'd shores to all vertuous aimes;
None fauouring goodnesse; none but he respecting
Pietie or man-hood. Shall I here suruiue,
Not cast me after him into the sea,
Rather then here liue, readie euery houre
To feede theeues, beasts, and be the slaue of power?
I come my Lord, Clermont thy creature comes.
Hee kils himselfe.
Enter Aumal, Tamyra, Charlotte.
Aum.
What? lye and languish, Clermont? Cursed man
To leaue him here thus: hee hath slaine himselfe.
Tam.
Misery on misery! O me wretched Dame
Of all that breath, all heauen turne all his eyes,
Char.
Well done my Brother: I did loue thee euer,
But now adore thee: losse of such a friend
None should suruiue, of such a Brother;
With my false husband liue, and both these slaine:
Ere I returne to him, Ile turne to earth.
Enter Renel leading the Countesse.
Ren.
Horror of humane eyes, O Clermont D'Ambois!
Madame, wee staid too long, your seruant's slaine.
Coun.
It must be so, he liu'd but in the Guise,
As I in him. O follow life mine eyes.
Tam.
Hide, hide thy snakie head, to Cloisters flie,
In pennance pine, too easie tis to die.
Cler.
It is. In Cloisters then let's all suruiue.
Madame, since wrath nor griefe can helpe these fortunes,
Let vs forsake the world, in which they raigne,
And for their wisht amends to God complaine.
Count.
Tis fit and onely needfull: leade me on,
In heauens course comfort seeke, in earth is none.
Exeunt.
Enter Henry, Espernone, Soissone, and others.
Hen.
Wee came indeede too late, which much I rue,
And would haue kept this Clermont as my crowne.
Take in the dead, and make this fatall roome
(The house shut vp) the famous D'Ambois Tombe.
Exeunt.
FINIS.
| The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois | |