Part 10

_Monsieur._ Now shall we see that Nature hath no end In her great works responsive to their worths; That she, that makes so many eyes and soules To see and fore-see, is stark blind her selfe; And as illiterate men say Latine prayers 5 By rote of heart and dayly iteration, Not knowing what they say, so Nature layes A deale of stuffe together, and by use, Or by the meere necessity of matter, Ends such a work, fills it, or leaves it empty 10 Of strength, or vertue, error, or cleare truth, Not knowing what she does; but usually Gives that which we call merit to a man, And beliefe must arrive him on huge riches, Honour and happinesse, that effects his ruine. 15 Even as in ships of warre whole lasts of powder Are laid, me thinks, to make them last, and gard them, When a disorder'd spark, that powder taking, Blowes up, with sodaine violence and horror, Ships that (kept empty) had sayl'd long, with terror. 20

_Guise._ He that observes but like a worldly man That which doth oft succeed and by th'events Values the worth of things, will think it true That Nature works at random, just with you: But with as much proportion she may make 25 A thing that from the feet up to the throat Hath all the wondrous fabrique man should have, And leave it headlesse, for a perfect man, As give a full man valour, vertue, learning, Without an end more excellent then those 30 On whom she no such worthy part bestowes.

_Mons._ Yet shall you see it here; here will be one Young, learned, valiant, vertuous, and full mann'd; One on whom Nature spent so rich a hand That with an ominous eye she wept to see 35 So much consum'd her vertuous treasurie. Yet as the winds sing through a hollow tree, And (since it lets them passe through) let's it stand; But a tree solid (since it gives no way To their wild rage) they rend up by the root: 40 So this whole man (That will not wind with every crooked way Trod by the servile world) shall reele and fall Before the frantick puffes of blind borne chance, That pipes through empty men and makes them dance. 45 Not so the sea raves on the Libian sands, Tumbling her billowes in each others neck: Not so the surges of the Euxian Sea (Neere to the frosty pole, where free Bootes From those dark deep waves turnes his radiant teame) 50 Swell, being enrag'd even from their inmost drop, As fortune swings about the restlesse state Of vertue now throwne into all mens hate.

_Enter Montsurry disguis'd, with the murtherers._

Away, my lord; you are perfectly disguis'd; Leave us to lodge your ambush.

_Montsurry._ Speed me, vengeance! 55 _Exit._

_Mons._ Resolve, my masters, you shall meet with one Will try what proofes your privy coats are made on: When he is entred, and you heare us stamp, Approach, and make all sure.

_Murderers._ We will, my lord. _Exeunt._

LINENOTES:

1-59 _Now shall . . . we will my lord_. These lines are placed in A at the beginning of Scena Quarta.

3 _that makes_. A, who makes.

7 _Not knowing what they say_. Omitted in A, which has instead:--

In whose hot zeale a man would thinke they knew What they ranne so away with, and were sure To have rewards proportion'd to their labours; Yet may implore their owne confusions For anything they know, which oftentimes It fals out they incurre.

8 _deale_. A, masse.

13 _we call_. A; B, she calls.

14 _must_. A, should.

16 _Even_. A, Right.

17 _me thinks_. men thinke. _gard them_. A; B, guard.

25 _proportion_. A, decorum.

28 _a perfect_. A, an absolute.

29 _full_. A, whole.

32 _Yet shall you_. A, Why you shall.

38 _let's_. A, let.

40 _rage_. A, rages.

41-43 _So this . . . and fall_. A has instead: So this full creature now shall reele and fall.

44 _blind borne_. A, purblinde.

_Enter Montsurry . . . murtherers_, and 54-59, _Away . . . will, my lord_. Omitted in A.

[SCENA TERTIA.

_A Room in Bussy's House_.]

_D'Ambois, with two Pages with tapers._

_Bussy._ Sit up to night, and watch: Ile speak with none But the old Frier, who bring to me.

_Pages._ We will, sir. _Exeunt._

_Buss._ What violent heat is this? me thinks the fire Of twenty lives doth on a suddaine flash Through all my faculties: the ayre goes high 5 In this close chamber and the frighted earth _Thunder._ Trembles and shrinks beneath me; the whole house Nods with his shaken burthen.

_Enter Umb[ra] Frier._

Blesse me, heaven!

_Umb[ra Friar]._ Note what I want, deare sonne, and be fore-warn'd. O there are bloudy deeds past and to come. 10 I cannot stay; a fate doth ravish me; Ile meet thee in the chamber of thy love. _Exit._

_Buss._ What dismall change is here! the good old Frier Is murther'd, being made knowne to serve my love; And now his restlesse spirit would fore-warne me 15 Of some plot dangerous, and imminent. Note what he wants! He wants his upper weed, He wants his life, and body: which of these Should be the want he meanes, and may supply me With any fit fore-warning? This strange vision, 20 (Together with the dark prediction Us'd by the Prince of Darknesse that was rais'd By this embodied shadow) stirre my thoughts With reminiscion of the Spirits promise, Who told me that by any invocation 25 I should have power to raise him, though it wanted The powerfull words and decent rites of art. Never had my set braine such need of spirit T'instruct and cheere it; now then I will claime Performance of his free and gentle vow 30 T'appeare in greater light, and make more plain His rugged oracle. I long to know How my deare mistresse fares, and be inform'd What hand she now holds on the troubled bloud Of her incensed lord: me thought the Spirit 35 (When he had utter'd his perplext presage) Threw his chang'd countenance headlong into clouds; His forehead bent, as it would hide his face, He knockt his chin against his darkned breast, And struck a churlish silence through his pow'rs. 40 Terror of darknesse! O, thou King of flames! That with thy musique-footed horse dost strike The cleare light out of chrystall on dark earth, And hurlst instructive fire about the world, Wake, wake, the drowsie and enchanted night 45 That sleepes with dead eyes in this heavy riddle! Or thou great Prince of Shades, where never sunne Stickes his far-darted beames, whose eyes are made To shine in darknesse, and see ever best Where men are blindest, open now the heart 50 Of thy abashed oracle, that, for feare Of some ill it includes, would faine lie hid, And rise thou with it in thy greater light!

_Thunders. Surgit Spiritus cum suis._

_Behemoth._ Thus, to observe my vow of apparition In greater light, and explicate thy fate, 55 I come; and tell thee that, if thou obey The summons that thy mistresse next will send thee, Her hand shall be thy death.

_Buss._ When will she send?

_Beh._ Soone as I set againe, where late I rose.

_Buss._ Is the old Frier slaine?

_Beh._ No, and yet lives not. 60

_Buss._ Died he a naturall death?

_Beh._ He did.

_Buss._ Who then Will my deare mistresse send?

_Beh._ I must not tell thee.

_Buss._ Who lets thee?

_Beh._ Fate.

_Buss._ Who are Fates ministers?

_Beh._ The Guise and Monsieur.

_Buss._ A fit paire of sheeres To cut the threds of kings and kingly spirits, 65 And consorts fit to sound forth harmony Set to the fals of kingdomes. Shall the hand Of my kind mistresse kill me?

_Beh._ If thou yeeld To her next summons. Y'are faire warn'd; farewell! _Thunders. Exit._

_Buss._ I must fare well, how ever, though I die, 70 My death consenting with his augurie. Should not my powers obay when she commands, My motion must be rebell to my will, My will to life; if, when I have obay'd, Her hand should so reward me, they must arme it, 75 Binde me, or force it; or, I lay my life, She rather would convert it many times On her owne bosome, even to many deaths. But were there danger of such violence, I know 'tis farre from her intent to send: 80 And who she should send is as farre from thought, Since he is dead whose only mean she us'd. _Knocks._ Whose there? Look to the dore, and let him in, Though politick Monsieur, or the violent Guise.

_Enter Montsurry like the Frier, with a letter written in bloud._

_Mont._ Haile to my worthy sonne!

_Buss._ O lying Spirit, 85 To say the Frier was dead! Ile now beleeve Nothing of all his forg'd predictions. My kinde and honour'd father, well reviv'd! I have beene frighted with your death and mine, And told my mistresse hand should be my death, 90 If I obeyed this summons.

_Mont._ I beleev'd Your love had bin much clearer then to give Any such doubt a thought, for she is cleare, And having freed her husbands jealousie (Of which her much abus'd hand here is witnesse) 95 She prayes, for urgent cause, your instant presence.

_Buss._ Why, then, your Prince of Spirits may be call'd The Prince of lyers.

_Mont._ Holy Writ so calls him.

_Buss._ What! writ in bloud!

_Mont._ I, 'tis the ink of lovers.

_Buss._ O, 'tis a sacred witnesse of her love. 100 So much elixer of her bloud as this, Dropt in the lightest dame, would make her firme As heat to fire; and, like to all the signes, Commands the life confinde in all my veines. O, how it multiplies my bloud with spirit, 105 And makes me apt t'encounter death and hell. But come, kinde father; you fetch me to heaven, And to that end your holy weed was given. _Exeunt._

LINENOTES:

_with tapers_. A omits.

_Thunder._ A omits.

8 _Nods_. A, Crackes.

_Enter . . . Frier_. Placed after _heaven_ in Qq.

9 _deare_. A, my.

15-16 _and now . . . imminent_. A omits.

17 _upper_. A, utmost.

49 _shine_. A, see.

50 _men are_. A, sense is.

_Thunders_ A omits

_Thunders._ A omits.

76 _or_. A, and.

_with a letter written in bloud_. A omits.

85-98 _O lying Spirit . . . calls him_. Omitted in A, which has instead:--

_Buss._ O lying Spirit: welcome, loved father, How fares my dearest mistresse?

_Mont._ Well as ever, Being well as ever thought on by her lord: Wherof she sends this witnesse in her hand, And praies, for urgent cause, your speediest presence.

91-92 _I beleeved . . . give_. One line in B.

[SCENA QUARTA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Thunder. Intrat Umbra Frier and discovers Tamyra._

_[Umbra] Friar._ Up with these stupid thoughts, still loved daughter, And strike away this heartlesse trance of anguish: Be like the sunne, and labour in eclipses. Look to the end of woes: oh, can you sit Mustering the horrors of your servants slaughter 5 Before your contemplation, and not study How to prevent it? Watch when he shall rise, And, with a suddaine out-crie of his murther, Blow his retreat before he be revenged.

_Tamyra._ O father, have my dumb woes wak'd your death? 10 When will our humane griefes be at their height? Man is a tree that hath no top in cares, No root in comforts; all his power to live Is given to no end but t'have power to grieve.

_Umb. Fri._ It is the misery of our creation. 15 Your true friend, Led by your husband, shadowed in my weed, Now enters the dark vault.

_Tam._ But, my dearest father, Why will not you appeare to him your selfe, And see that none of these deceits annoy him? 20

_Umb. Fri._ My power is limited; alas! I cannot; All that I can doe--See! the cave opens. _Exit._

_D'Amboys at the gulfe._

_Tam._ Away (my love) away! thou wilt be murther'd.

_Enter Monsieur and Guise above._

_Bussy._ Murther'd! I know not what that Hebrew means: That word had ne're bin nam'd had all bin D'Ambois. 25 Murther'd! By heaven, he is my murtherer That shewes me not a murtherer: what such bugge Abhorreth not the very sleepe of D'Amboys? Murther'd! Who dares give all the room I see To D'Ambois reach? or look with any odds 30 His fight i'th' face, upon whose hand sits death, Whose sword hath wings, and every feather pierceth? If I scape Monsieurs pothecarie shops, Foutir for Guises shambles! 'Twas ill plotted; They should have mall'd me here 35 When I was rising. I am up and ready. Let in my politique visitants, let them in, Though entring like so many moving armours. Fate is more strong than arms and slie than treason, And I at all parts buckl'd in my fate. 40

_Mons._ } _Guise._ } Why enter not the coward villains?

_Buss._ Dare they not come?

_Enter Murtherers, with [Umbra] Frier at the other dore._

_Tam._ They come.

_First Murderer._ Come, all at once!

_[Umbra] Friar._ Back, coward murtherers, back!

_Omnes._ Defend us heaven! _Exeunt all but the first._

_First Murd._ Come ye not on?

_Buss._ No, slave! nor goest thou off. Stand you so firme?

[_Strikes at him with his sword._]

Will it not enter here? 45 You have a face yet. So! in thy lifes flame I burne the first rites to my mistresse fame.

_Umb. Fri._ Breath thee, brave sonne, against the other charge.

_Buss._ O is it true, then, that my sense first told me? Is my kind father dead?

_Tam._ He is, my love; 50 'Twas the Earle, my husband, in his weed that brought thee.

_Buss._ That was a speeding sleight, and well resembled. Where is that angry Earle? My lord! come forth, And shew your owne face in your owne affaire; Take not into your noble veines the blood 55 Of these base villaines, nor the light reports Of blister'd tongues for cleare and weighty truth: But me against the world, in pure defence Of your rare lady, to whose spotlesse name I stand here as a bulwark, and project 60 A life to her renowne that ever yet Hath been untainted, even in envies eye, And, where it would protect, a sanctuarie. Brave Earle, come forth, and keep your scandall in! 'Tis not our fault, if you enforce the spot; 65 Nor the wreak yours, if you performe it not.

_Enter Mont[surry] with all the murtherers._

_Montsurry._ Cowards! a fiend or spirit beat ye off! They are your owne faint spirits that have forg'd The fearefull shadowes that your eyes deluded: The fiend was in you; cast him out, then, thus! 70

[_Montsurry fights with D'Ambois._] _D'Ambois hath Montsurry downe._

_Tam._ Favour my lord, my love, O, favour him!

_Buss._ I will not touch him. Take your life, my lord, And be appeas'd. _Pistolls shot within._ O then the coward Fates Have maim'd themselves, and ever lost their honour!

_Umb. Fri._ What have ye done, slaves! irreligious lord! 75

_Buss._ Forbeare them, father; 'tis enough for me That Guise and Monsieur, death and destinie, Come behind D'Ambois. Is my body, then, But penetrable flesh, and must my mind Follow my blood? Can my divine part adde 80 No ayd to th'earthly in extremity? Then these divines are but for forme, not fact; Man is of two sweet courtly friends compact, A mistresse and a servant. Let my death Define life nothing but a courtiers breath. 85 Nothing is made of nought, of all things made Their abstract being a dreame but of a shade. Ile not complaine to earth yet, but to heaven, And (like a man) look upwards even in death. And if Vespasian thought in majestie 90 An Emperour might die standing, why not I? _She offers to help him._ Nay, without help, in which I will exceed him; For he died splinted with his chamber groomes. Prop me, true sword, as thou hast ever done! The equall thought I beare of life and death 95 Shall make me faint on no side; I am up. Here, like a Roman statue, I will stand Till death hath made me marble. O my fame Live in despight of murther! take thy wings And haste thee where the gray-ey'd morn perfumes 100 Her rosie chariot with Sabæan spices! Fly where the evening from th'Iberean vales Takes on her swarthy shoulders Heccate Crown'd with a grove of oakes! flie where men feele The burning axeltree; and those that suffer 105 Beneath the chariot of the snowy Beare: And tell them all that D'Ambois now is hasting To the eternall dwellers; that a thunder Of all their sighes together (for their frailties Beheld in me) may quit my worthlesse fall 110 With a fit volley for my funerall.

_Umb. Fri._ Forgive thy murtherers.

_Buss._ I forgive them all; And you, my lord, their fautor; for true signe Of which unfain'd remission, take my sword; Take it, and onely give it motion, 115 And it shall finde the way to victory By his owne brightnesse, and th'inherent valour My fight hath still'd into't with charmes of spirit. Now let me pray you that my weighty bloud, Laid in one scale of your impertiall spleene, 120 May sway the forfeit of my worthy love Waid in the other: and be reconcil'd With all forgivenesse to your matchlesse wife.

_Tam._ Forgive thou me, deare servant, and this hand That lead thy life to this unworthy end; 125 Forgive it for the bloud with which 'tis stain'd, In which I writ the summons of thy death-- The forced summons--by this bleeding wound, By this here in my bosome, and by this That makes me hold up both my hands embrew'd 130 For thy deare pardon.

_Buss._ O, my heart is broken. Fate nor these murtherers, Monsieur nor the Guise, Have any glory in my death, but this, This killing spectacle, this prodigie. My sunne is turn'd to blood, in whose red beams 135 Pindus and Ossa (hid in drifts of snow Laid on my heart and liver), from their veines Melt, like two hungry torrents eating rocks, Into the ocean of all humane life, And make it bitter, only with my bloud. 140 O fraile condition of strength, valour, vertue In me (like warning fire upon the top Of some steepe beacon, on a steeper hill) Made to expresse it: like a falling starre Silently glanc't, that like a thunderbolt 145 Look't to have struck, and shook the firmament! _Moritur._

_Umb. Fri._ Farewell! brave reliques of a compleat man, Look up, and see thy spirit made a starre. Joine flames with Hercules, and when thou set'st Thy radiant forehead in the firmament, 150 Make the vast chrystall crack with thy receipt; Spread to a world of fire, and the aged skie Cheere with new sparks of old humanity. [_To Montsurry._] Son of the earth, whom my unrested soule Rues t'have begotten in the faith of heaven, 155 Assay to gratulate and pacifie The soule fled from this worthy by performing The Christian reconcilement he besought Betwixt thee and thy lady; let her wounds, Manlessly digg'd in her, be eas'd and cur'd 160 With balme of thine owne teares; or be assur'd Never to rest free from my haunt and horror.

_Mont._ See how she merits this, still kneeling by, And mourning his fall, more than her own fault!

_Umb. Fri._ Remove, deare daughter, and content thy husband: 165 So piety wills thee, and thy servants peace.

_Tam._ O wretched piety, that art so distract In thine owne constancie, and in thy right Must be unrighteous. If I right my friend, I wrong my husband; if his wrong I shunne, 170 The duty of my friend I leave undone. Ill playes on both sides; here and there it riseth; No place, no good, so good, but ill compriseth. O had I never married but for forme; Never vow'd faith but purpos'd to deceive; 175 Never made conscience of any sinne, But clok't it privately and made it common; Nor never honour'd beene in bloud or mind; Happy had I beene then, as others are Of the like licence; I had then beene honour'd, 180 Liv'd without envie; custome had benumb'd All sense of scruple and all note of frailty; My fame had beene untouch'd, my heart unbroken: But (shunning all) I strike on all offence. O husband! deare friend! O my conscience! 185

_Mons._ Come, let's away; my sences are not proofe Against those plaints.

_Exeunt Guise, Mon[sieur above]. D'Ambois is borne off._

_Mont._ I must not yeeld to pity, nor to love So servile and so trayterous: cease, my bloud, To wrastle with my honour, fame, and judgement. 190 Away! forsake my house; forbeare complaints Where thou hast bred them: here all things [are] full Of their owne shame and sorrow--leave my house.

_Tam._ Sweet lord, forgive me, and I will be gone; And till these wounds (that never balme shall close 195 Till death hath enterd at them, so I love them, Being opened by your hands) by death be cur'd, I never more will grieve you with my sight; Never endure that any roofe shall part Mine eyes and heaven; but to the open deserts 200 (Like to a hunted tygres) I will flie, Eating my heart, shunning the steps of men, And look on no side till I be arriv'd.

_Mont._ I doe forgive thee, and upon my knees (With hands held up to heaven) wish that mine honour 205 Would suffer reconcilement to my love: But, since it will not, honour never serve My love with flourishing object, till it sterve! And as this taper, though it upwards look, Downwards must needs consume, so let our love! 210 As, having lost his hony, the sweet taste Runnes into savour, and will needs retaine A spice of his first parents, till (like life) It sees and dies, so let our love! and, lastly, As when the flame is suffer'd to look up 215 It keepes his luster, but being thus turn'd downe (His naturall course of usefull light inverted) His owne stuffe puts it out, so let our love! Now turne from me, as here I turne from thee; And may both points of heavens strait axeltree 220 Conjoyne in one, before thy selfe and me! _Exeunt severally._

_Finis Actus Quinti & Ultimi._

LINENOTES:

_Thunder . . . Tamyra_. A has: _Intrat umbra Comolet to the Countesse, wrapt in a canapie._

1-6 _Up . . . not study_. Omitted in A, which has instead:--

Revive those stupid thoughts, and sit not thus, Gathering the horrors of your servants slaughter (So urg'd by your hand, and so imminent) Into an idle fancie; but devise.

9 _revenged_. A, engaged.

14 _t'have_. A; B, have.

15-22 _It is . . . opens_. Omitted in A, which has instead:--

_Umb._ Tis the just curse of our abus'd creation, Which wee must suffer heere, and scape heereafter: He hath the great mind that submits to all He sees inevitable; he the small That carps at earth, and her foundation shaker, And rather than himselfe, will mend his maker.

16 _Your . . . friend_. In B ends preceding line.

_Enter . . . above_. A omits.

30 _To_. Some copies of B have T.

33-36 _If I . . . and ready_. A omits.

41 _Why . . . villains_? A omits.

_Enter . . . dore_. A omits.

_all but the first_. A omits.

53 Qq punctuate wrongly:--_Where is that angry Earle my lord? Come forth._

_all the murtherers_. A, others.

_D'Ambois . . . downe_. A omits.