 | The Duke of Guise |  |
SCENE the Louvre.
A Chair of State plac'd; the King appears sitting in it; a Table by him, on which he leans; Attendants on each side of them: amongst the rest, Abbot, Grillon, and Bellieure. The Queen-Mother enters led by the Duke of Guise, who makes his approach with three Reverences to the King's Chair; after the third, the King rises, and coming forward, speaks.
King.
I sent you word you should not come.
Guise.
Sir, that I came—
King.
Why, that you came, I see.
Once more, I sent you word, you should not come.
Guise.
Not come to throw my self, with all submission,
Beneath your Royal Feet: to put my Cause
And Person in the Hands of Soveraign Justice!
King.
Now 'tis with all submission, that's the Preface,
Yet still you came against my strict Command,
You disobey'd me, Duke, with all submission.
Guise.
Sir, it was the last necessity that drove me
To clear my self of Calumnies, and Slanders,
Much urg'd, but never prov'd, against my Innocence;
Yet had I known it was your express Command,
I should not have approach'd.
King.
'Twas as express, as words could signifie;
Stand forth Bellieure, it shall be prov'd you knew it,
Stand forth, and to this false Mans Face declare
Your Message, word for Word.
Bell.
Sir, thus it was, I met him on the way,
And plain as I could speak, I gave your Orders,
Just in these following Words—
King.
Enough, I know you told him;
But he has us'd me long to be contemn'd,
And I can still be patient, and forgive.
Guise.
And I can ask forgiveness, when I err;
But let my Gracious Master, please to know
The true intent of my mis-constru'd Faith.
Should I not come to vindicate my Fame,
From wrong Constructions? And—
King.
Come, Duke, you were not wrong'd your Conscience knows,
You were not wrong'd, were you not plainly told,
That if you dar'd to set your Foot in Paris,
You shou'd be held the cause of all Commotions,
That shou'd from thence ensue, and yet you came.
Guise.
Sir, will you please with patience but to hear me?
King.
I will, and wou'd be glad, my Lord of Guise,
To clear you to my self.
Guise.
I had been told
There were in agitation here at Court,
Things of the highest note against Religion,
Against the common Properties of Subjects,
And Lives of honest well affected men;
I therefore judg'd—
King.
Then you, it seems, are Judge
Betwixt the Prince and People, Judge for them,
And Champion against me?
Guise.
I fear'd it might be represented so,
And came Resolv'd—
King.
To head the Factious Crowd.
Guise.
To clear my Innocence.
King.
The means for that,
Had been your absence from this hot-brain'd Town—
Where you, not I, are King.—
I feel my Blood kindling within my Veins,
The Genius of the Throne knocks at my Heart,
Come what may come, he dies.
Q. M.
stopping the King.
What mean you, Sir,
You tremble and look pale, for Heavens sake think,
'Tis your own Life you venture, if you kill him.
King.
Had I ten thousand Lives, I'le venture all.
Give me way, Madam.
Q. M.
Not to your destruction.
The whole Parisian Herd is at your Gates;
A Crowd's a Name too small, they are a Nation,
Numberless, arm'd, enrag'd, one Soul informs 'em.
King.
And that one Soul's the Guise, I'le rend it out,
And damn the Rabble all at once in him.
Guise
. (aside.)
My Fate is now i'th' Ballance, Fool within,
I thank thee for thy foresight.
Q. M.
Your Guards oppose 'em.
King.
Why not? a Multitude's a Bulky Coward.
Q. M.
By Heaven there are not Limbs in all your Guards,
For every one a Morsel.
King.
Cæsar quell'd 'em,
But with a Look and Word.
Q. M.
So Galba thought.
King.
But Galba was not Cæsar.
Guise.
I must not give 'em time for Resolution.
[Aside.
My Journey, Sir, has discompos'd my Health,
[To the King.
I humbly beg your leave I may retire,
Till your Commands re-call me to your Service.
[Exit Guise.
Manet King, Queen-Mother, Grillon, Abbot.
King.
So you have counsell'd well, the Traytors gone.
To mock the meekness, of an injur'd King,
[To Queen-Mother.
Why did not you, who gave me part of Life,
Infuse my Father stronger in my Veins?
But when you kept me coop'd within your Womb,
You pall'd his generous Blood with the dull mixture
Of your Italian Food, and milk'd slow Arts
Of Womanish tameness in my Infant Mouth,
Why stood I stupid else, and miss'd a blow,
Which Heaven and daring folly made so fair.
Q. M.
I still maintain, 'twas wisely done to spare him.
Grill.
A pox o'this unseasonable Wisdom;
He was a Fool to come; if so, then they
Who let him go, were somewhat.
King.
The event, th'event will shew us what we were,
For like a blazing Meteor hence he shot,
And drew a sweeping Fiery Train along.
O Paris, Paris, once my Seat of Triumph;
But now the Scene of all thy King's misfortunes,
Ungrateful, perjur'd, and Disloyal Town,
Which by my Royal Presence I have warm'd
So long, that now the Serpent hisses out,
And shakes his forked Tongue at Majesty,
While I—
Q. M.
While you lose time in idle talk.
And use no means for safety and prevention.
King.
What can I do! O Mother, Abbot, Grillon!
All dumb! nay, then 'tis plain, my Cause is desperate.
Such an o're-whelming ill makes Grief a Fool,
As if Redress were past.
Grill.
I'le go to the next Sheriff,
And beg the first Reversion of a Rope;
Dispatch is all my business, I'le hang for you.
Abbot.
'Tis not so bad, as vainly you surmise;
Some space there is, some little space, some steps
Betwixt our Fate and us; our Foes are powerful,
But yet not Arm'd, nor Martiall'd into Order;
Believe it, Sir, the Guise will not artempt,
'Till he have rowl'd his Snow-ball to a heap.
King.
So, then, my Lord, we are a day off from Death,
What shall to morrow do?
Abbot.
To morrow, Sir.
If hours between slide not too idle by,
You may be Master of their Destiny,
Who now dispose so loftily of yours.
Not far without the Suburbs there are Quarter'd
Three thousand Swisse, and two French Regiments.
King.
Wou'd they were here, and I were at their head.
Q. M.
Send Mareschal Byron to lead 'em up.
King.
It shall be so, by Heaven there's Life in this,
The wrack of Clouds is driving on the Winds,
And shows a break of Sun-shine.
Go, Grillon, give my Orders to Byron,
And see your Souldiers well dispos'd within,
For Safeguard of the Louvre.
Q. Mother.
One thing more,
The Guise (his bus'ness yet not fully ripe,)
Will treat at least for show of Loyalty:
Let him be met with the same Arts he brings.
King.
I know, he'll make exorbitant Demands,
But here your part of me will come in play;
Th'Italian Soul shall teach me how to sooth:
Even Jove must flatter with an empty hand,
'Tis time to thunder, when he gripes the Brand.
[Ex. Omnes.
A Chair of State plac'd; the King appears sitting in it; a Table by him, on which he leans; Attendants on each side of them: amongst the rest, Abbot, Grillon, and Bellieure. The Queen-Mother enters led by the Duke of Guise, who makes his approach with three Reverences to the King's Chair; after the third, the King rises, and coming forward, speaks.
King.
I sent you word you should not come.
Guise.
Sir, that I came—
King.
Why, that you came, I see.
Once more, I sent you word, you should not come.
Guise.
Not come to throw my self, with all submission,
Beneath your Royal Feet: to put my Cause
And Person in the Hands of Soveraign Justice!
King.
Now 'tis with all submission, that's the Preface,
Yet still you came against my strict Command,
You disobey'd me, Duke, with all submission.
Guise.
Sir, it was the last necessity that drove me
To clear my self of Calumnies, and Slanders,
Much urg'd, but never prov'd, against my Innocence;
Yet had I known it was your express Command,
I should not have approach'd.
King.
'Twas as express, as words could signifie;
Stand forth Bellieure, it shall be prov'd you knew it,
Stand forth, and to this false Mans Face declare
Your Message, word for Word.
Bell.
Sir, thus it was, I met him on the way,
And plain as I could speak, I gave your Orders,
Just in these following Words—
38
Enough, I know you told him;
But he has us'd me long to be contemn'd,
And I can still be patient, and forgive.
Guise.
And I can ask forgiveness, when I err;
But let my Gracious Master, please to know
The true intent of my mis-constru'd Faith.
Should I not come to vindicate my Fame,
From wrong Constructions? And—
King.
Come, Duke, you were not wrong'd your Conscience knows,
You were not wrong'd, were you not plainly told,
That if you dar'd to set your Foot in Paris,
You shou'd be held the cause of all Commotions,
That shou'd from thence ensue, and yet you came.
Guise.
Sir, will you please with patience but to hear me?
King.
I will, and wou'd be glad, my Lord of Guise,
To clear you to my self.
Guise.
I had been told
There were in agitation here at Court,
Things of the highest note against Religion,
Against the common Properties of Subjects,
And Lives of honest well affected men;
I therefore judg'd—
King.
Then you, it seems, are Judge
Betwixt the Prince and People, Judge for them,
And Champion against me?
Guise.
I fear'd it might be represented so,
And came Resolv'd—
King.
To head the Factious Crowd.
Guise.
To clear my Innocence.
King.
The means for that,
Had been your absence from this hot-brain'd Town—
Where you, not I, are King.—
I feel my Blood kindling within my Veins,
The Genius of the Throne knocks at my Heart,
Come what may come, he dies.
Q. M.
stopping the King.
What mean you, Sir,
You tremble and look pale, for Heavens sake think,
'Tis your own Life you venture, if you kill him.
King.
Had I ten thousand Lives, I'le venture all.
Give me way, Madam.
39
Not to your destruction.
The whole Parisian Herd is at your Gates;
A Crowd's a Name too small, they are a Nation,
Numberless, arm'd, enrag'd, one Soul informs 'em.
King.
And that one Soul's the Guise, I'le rend it out,
And damn the Rabble all at once in him.
Guise
. (aside.)
My Fate is now i'th' Ballance, Fool within,
I thank thee for thy foresight.
Q. M.
Your Guards oppose 'em.
King.
Why not? a Multitude's a Bulky Coward.
Q. M.
By Heaven there are not Limbs in all your Guards,
For every one a Morsel.
King.
Cæsar quell'd 'em,
But with a Look and Word.
Q. M.
So Galba thought.
King.
But Galba was not Cæsar.
Guise.
I must not give 'em time for Resolution.
[Aside.
My Journey, Sir, has discompos'd my Health,
[To the King.
I humbly beg your leave I may retire,
Till your Commands re-call me to your Service.
[Exit Guise.
Manet King, Queen-Mother, Grillon, Abbot.
King.
So you have counsell'd well, the Traytors gone.
To mock the meekness, of an injur'd King,
[To Queen-Mother.
Why did not you, who gave me part of Life,
Infuse my Father stronger in my Veins?
But when you kept me coop'd within your Womb,
You pall'd his generous Blood with the dull mixture
Of your Italian Food, and milk'd slow Arts
Of Womanish tameness in my Infant Mouth,
Why stood I stupid else, and miss'd a blow,
Which Heaven and daring folly made so fair.
Q. M.
I still maintain, 'twas wisely done to spare him.
Grill.
A pox o'this unseasonable Wisdom;
He was a Fool to come; if so, then they
Who let him go, were somewhat.
King.
The event, th'event will shew us what we were,
For like a blazing Meteor hence he shot,
And drew a sweeping Fiery Train along.
40
But now the Scene of all thy King's misfortunes,
Ungrateful, perjur'd, and Disloyal Town,
Which by my Royal Presence I have warm'd
So long, that now the Serpent hisses out,
And shakes his forked Tongue at Majesty,
While I—
Q. M.
While you lose time in idle talk.
And use no means for safety and prevention.
King.
What can I do! O Mother, Abbot, Grillon!
All dumb! nay, then 'tis plain, my Cause is desperate.
Such an o're-whelming ill makes Grief a Fool,
As if Redress were past.
Grill.
I'le go to the next Sheriff,
And beg the first Reversion of a Rope;
Dispatch is all my business, I'le hang for you.
Abbot.
'Tis not so bad, as vainly you surmise;
Some space there is, some little space, some steps
Betwixt our Fate and us; our Foes are powerful,
But yet not Arm'd, nor Martiall'd into Order;
Believe it, Sir, the Guise will not artempt,
'Till he have rowl'd his Snow-ball to a heap.
King.
So, then, my Lord, we are a day off from Death,
What shall to morrow do?
Abbot.
To morrow, Sir.
If hours between slide not too idle by,
You may be Master of their Destiny,
Who now dispose so loftily of yours.
Not far without the Suburbs there are Quarter'd
Three thousand Swisse, and two French Regiments.
King.
Wou'd they were here, and I were at their head.
Q. M.
Send Mareschal Byron to lead 'em up.
King.
It shall be so, by Heaven there's Life in this,
The wrack of Clouds is driving on the Winds,
And shows a break of Sun-shine.
Go, Grillon, give my Orders to Byron,
And see your Souldiers well dispos'd within,
41
Q. Mother.
One thing more,
The Guise (his bus'ness yet not fully ripe,)
Will treat at least for show of Loyalty:
Let him be met with the same Arts he brings.
King.
I know, he'll make exorbitant Demands,
But here your part of me will come in play;
Th'Italian Soul shall teach me how to sooth:
Even Jove must flatter with an empty hand,
'Tis time to thunder, when he gripes the Brand.
[Ex. Omnes.
| The Duke of Guise | |