Part 17

_Bal._ I thinke I did my part to.

_Ren._ Well, sir, all Is in the issue well: and (worthiest friend) Here's from your friend, the Guise; here from the Countesse, 80 Your brothers mistresse, the contents whereof I know, and must prepare you now to please Th'unrested spirit of your slaughtered brother, If it be true, as you imagin'd once, His apparition show'd it. The complot 85 Is now laid sure betwixt us; therefore haste Both to your great friend (who hath some use waightie For your repaire to him) and to the Countesse, Whose satisfaction is no lesse important.

_Cler._ I see all, and will haste as it importeth. 90 And good friend, since I must delay a little My wisht attendance on my noblest mistresse, Excuse me to her, with returne of this, And endlesse protestation of my service; And now become as glad a messenger, 95 As you were late a wofull.

_Aum._ Happy change! I ever will salute thee with my service. _Exit._

_Bal._ Yet more newes, brother; the late jesting Monsieur Makes now your brothers dying prophesie equall At all parts, being dead as he presag'd. 100

_Ren._ Heaven shield the Guise from seconding that truth With what he likewise prophesied on him!

_Cler._ It hath enough, twas grac'd with truth in one; To'th other falshood and confusion! Leade to the Court, sir.

_Bal._ You Ile leade no more; 105 It was to ominous and foule before. _Exeunt._

_Finis Actus quarti._

LINENOTES:

105 _to the_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, to'th.

ACTUS QUINTI SCÆNA PRIMA.

[_A Room in the Palace of the Duke of Guise._]

_Ascendit Umbra Bussi._

_Umbra Bussi._ Up from the chaos of eternall night (To which the whole digestion of the world Is now returning) once more I ascend, And bide the cold dampe of this piercing ayre, To urge the justice whose almightie word 5 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, 10 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 lives 15 Whose lawes yee thinke are nothing but your lusts; When leaving (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 way swaying, 20 Another th'other, all the Christian world And all her lawes whose observation Stands upon faith, above the power of reason-- Leaving (I say) all these, this might suffice To fray yee from your vicious swindge in ill 25 And set you more on fire to doe more good; That since the world (as which of you denies?) Stands by proportion, all may thence conclude That all the joynts and nerves sustaining nature As well may breake, and yet the world abide, 30 As any one good unrewarded die, Or any one ill scape his penaltie. _The Ghost stands close._

_Enter Guise, Clermont._

_Guise._ Thus (friend) thou seest how all good men would thrive, Did not the good thou prompt'st me with prevent The jealous ill pursuing them in others. 35 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"?

_Clermont._ Nor could you learne the person?

_Gui._ By no meanes. 40

_Cler._ Twas but your fancie, then, a waking dreame: For as in sleepe, which bindes both th'outward senses And the sense common to, th'imagining power (Stird up by formes hid in the memories store, Or by the vapours of o'er-flowing humours 45 In bodies full and foule, and mixt with 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 50 Those fictions true seeme and have reall act: So, in the strength of our conceits awake, The cause alike doth [oft] like fictions make.

_Gui._ Be what it will, twas a presage of something Waightie and secret, which th'advertisements 55 I have receiv'd from all parts, both without And in this kingdome, as from Rome and Spaine, Lorraine and Savoye, gives me cause to thinke, All writing that our plots catastrophe, For propagation of the Catholique cause, 60 Will bloudy prove, dissolving all our counsailes.

_Cler._ Retyre, then, from them all.

_Gui._ 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; 65 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 unlawfully! Make not your forward spirit in vertues right 70 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 75 Let vertue some good from your graces gather. Avarice of all is ever nothings father.

_Umb._ Danger (the spurre of all great mindes) is ever The curbe to your tame spirits; you respect not (With all your holinesse of life and learning) 80 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 live Rather without the body then within, 85 And rather to your God still then your selfe. To live to Him is to doe all things fitting His image in which like Himselfe we live; To be His image is to doe those things That make us deathlesse, which by death is onely 90 Doing those deedes that fit eternitie; And those deedes are the perfecting that justice That makes the world last, which proportion is Of punishment and wreake for every wrong, As well as for right a reward as strong: 95 Away, then! use the meanes thou hast to right The wrong I suffer'd. What corrupted law Leaves unperform'd in Kings, doe thou supply, And be above them all in dignitie. _Exit._

_Gui._ Why stand'st thou still thus, and applyest thine eares 100 And eyes to nothing?

_Cler._ Saw you nothing here?

_Gui._ Thou dream'st awake now; what was here to see?

_Cler._ My brothers spirit, urging his revenge.

_Gui._ Thy brothers spirit! pray thee mocke me not.

_Cler._ No, by my love and service.

_Gui._ Would he rise, 105 And not be thundring threates against the Guise?

_Cler._ You make amends for enmitie to him, With tenne parts more love and desert of mee; And as you make your hate to him no let Of any love to mee, no more beares hee 110 (Since you to me supply it) hate to you. Which reason and which justice 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 115 Late practis'd by my brother Baligny, Hee would not honor his hand with the justice (As hee esteemes it) of his blouds revenge, To which my sister needes would have him sworne, Before she would consent to marry him. 120

_Gui._ O Baligny!--who would beleeve there were A man that (onely since his lookes are rais'd Upwards, and have but sacred heaven in sight) Could beare a minde so more then divellish? As for the painted glory of the countenance, 125 Flitting in Kings, doth good for nought esteeme, And the more ill hee does, the better seeme.

_Cler._ Wee easily may beleeve it, since we see In this worlds practise few men better be. Justice to live doth nought but justice neede, 130 But policie must still on mischiefe feede. Untruth, for all his ends, truths name doth sue in; None safely live but those that study ruine. A good man happy is a common good; Ill men advanc'd live of the common bloud. 135

_Gui._ But this thy brothers spirit startles mee, These spirits seld or never hanting men But some mishap ensues.

_Cler._ Ensue what can; Tyrants may kill but never hurt a man; All to his good makes, spight of death and hell. 140

_Enter Aumall._

_Aumale._ All the desert of good renowne your Highnesse!

_Gui._ 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 loveliest eyes (Through which a soule look't so divinely loving, 145 Teares nothing uttering 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!

_Gui._ What events are these!

_Cler._ All must be borne, my lord; and yet this chance 150 Would willingly enforce a man to cast off All power to beare with comfort, since hee sees In this our comforts made our miseries.

_Gui._ How strangely thou art lov'd of both the sexes; Yet thou lov'st neyther, but the good of both. 155

_Cler._ In love of women my affection first Takes fire out of the fraile parts of my bloud; Which, till I have enjoy'd, is passionate Like other lovers; but, fruition past, I then love out of judgement, the desert 160 Of her I love still sticking in my heart, Though the desire and the delight be gone, Which must chance still, since the comparison Made upon tryall twixt what reason loves, And what affection, makes in mee the best 165 Ever preferd, what most love, valuing lest.

_Gui._ Thy love being judgement then, and of the minde, Marry thy worthiest mistresse now being blinde.

_Cler._ If there were love in mariage, so I would; But I denie that any man doth love, 170 Affecting wives, maides, widowes, any women: For neither flyes love milke, although they drowne In greedy search thereof; nor doth the bee Love honey, though the labour of her life Is spent in gathering it; nor those that fat 175 On beasts, or fowles, doe any thing therein For any love: for as when onely nature Moves men to meate, as farre as her power rules, Shee doth it with a temperate appetite, The too much men devoure abhorring nature, 180 And in our most health is our most disease: So, when humanitie rules men and women, Tis for societie confinde in reason. But what excites the beds desire in bloud, By no meanes justly can be construed love; 185 For when love kindles any knowing spirit, It ends in vertue and effects divine, And is in friendship chaste and masculine.

_Gui._ Thou shalt my mistresse be; me thinkes my bloud Is taken up to all love with thy vertues. 190 And howsoever other men despise These paradoxes strange and too precise, Since they hold on the right way of our reason, I could attend them ever. Come, away; Performe thy brothers thus importun'd wreake; 195 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. _Exeunt._

LINENOTES:

53 _doth oft like_. Emended by ed.; Q, doth of like.

58 _Lorraine_. Emended by ed.; Q, Soccaine; see note on 55-61.

90 Repunctuated by ed.; Q has (;) at the end of the line.

141 _All . . . renowne_. Q, All the desert of good, renowne your Highnesse.

176 _On_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Or.

[SCÆNA SECUNDA.

_A Room at the Court._]

_Enter Henry, Baligny, with sixe of the guard._

_Henry._ Saw you his sawcie forcing of my hand To D'Ambois freedome?

_Baligny._ Saw, and through mine eyes Let fire into my heart, that burn'd to beare An insolence so giantly austere.

_Hen._ The more Kings beare at subjects hands, the more 5 Their lingring justice 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, 10 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 15 Beare (where such sparkes flye as the Guise and D'Ambois) Pouder about them. Counsels (as your entrailes) Should be unpierst and sound kept; for not those Whom you discover you neglect; but ope A ruinous passage to your owne best hope. 20

_Hen._ Wee have spies set on us, as we on others; And therefore they that serve us must excuse us, 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, 25 On whose lids Fate with her dead waight shall lie, And confidence that lightens ere she die. Friends of my Guard, as yee gave othe to be True to your Soveraigne, keepe it manfully. Your eyes have witnest oft th'ambition 30 That never made accesse to me in Guise But treason ever sparkled in his eyes; Which if you free us of, our safetie shall You not our subjects but our patrons call.

_Omnes._ Our duties binde us; hee is now but dead. 35

_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._

[SCÆNA TERTIA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter Tamyra with a letter, Charlotte in mans attire._

_Tamyra._ I see y'are servant, sir, to my deare sister, The lady of her loved Baligny.

_Charlotte._ Madame, I am bound to her vertuous bounties For that life which I offer, in her service, To the revenge of her renowned brother. 5

_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 Justice: Which I beleeve, since her unmatched spirit 10 Can judge of spirits that have her sulphure in them. But I must tell you that I make no doubt Her living brother will revenge her dead, On whom the dead impos'd the taske, and hee, I know, will come t'effect it instantly. 15

_Char._ They are but words in him; beleeve 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._

_Renel._ God save you, lady! What gentleman is this, with whom you trust The deadly waightie secret of this houre? 20

_Tam._ One that your selfe will say I well may trust.

_Ren._ Then come up, madame. _He helps the Countesse up._ See here, honour'd lady, A Countesse that in loves mishap doth equall At all parts your wrong'd selfe, and is the mistresse Of your slaine servants brother; in whose love, 25 For his late treachrous apprehension, She wept her faire eyes from her ivory browes, And would have wept her soule out, had not I Promist to bring her to this mortall quarrie, That by her lost eyes for her servants love 30 She might conjure him from this sterne attempt, In which (by a most ominous dreame shee had) Shee knowes his death fixt, and that never more Out of this place the sunne shall see him live.

_Char._ I am provided, then, to take his place 35 And undertaking 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, 40 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 revenge but his.

_Enter Umbr[a] Bussy._

_Umbra._ Away, dispute no more; get up, and see! 45 Clermont must auchthor this just tragedie.

_Coun._ Who's that?

_Ren._ The spirit of Bussy.

_Tam._ O my servant! Let us embrace.

_Umb._ Forbeare! The ayre, in which My figures liknesse is imprest, will blast. Let my revenge for all loves satisfie, 50 In which, dame, feare not, Clermont shall not dye. No word dispute more; up, and see th'event. _Exeunt Ladyes._ Make the guard sure, Renel; and then the doores Command to make fast, when the Earle is in. _Exit Ren[el]._ The blacke soft-footed houre is now on wing, 55 Which, for my just wreake, ghosts shall celebrate With dances dire and of infernall state. _Exit._

LINENOTES:

2 _loved_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, lou'd.

4 _her service_. Ed.; Q, her vertuous service; vertuous, which is obviously hypermetrical, has been repeated by mistake from the previous line.

47-48. Three lines in Q, broken at _Bussy_, _embrace_, _which_.

[SCÆNA QUARTA.

_An Ante-room to the Council-Chamber._]

_Enter Guise._

_Guise._ Who sayes that death is naturall, when nature Is with the onely thought of it dismaid? I have had lotteries set up for my death, And I have drawne beneath my trencher one, Knit in my hand-kerchiefe another lot, 5 The word being, "Y'are a dead man if you enter"; And these words this imperfect bloud and flesh 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, 10 I cannot curbe my slave. Would any spirit Free, manly, princely, wish to live to be Commanded by this masse of slaverie, Since reason, judgement, resolution, And scorne of what we feare, will yeeld to feare? 15 While this same sincke of sensualitie swels, Who would live sinking in it? and not spring Up to the starres, and leave this carrion here, For wolfes, and vultures, and for dogges to teare? O Clermont D'Ambois, wert thou here to chide 20 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. 25

_Enter Messenger._

_Messenger._ The King desires your Grace to come to Councill.

_Gui._ 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: 30 Here would be tossing soules into the skie. Who ever knew bloud sav'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. 35

_He takes up the Arras, and the Guard enters upon him: hee drawes._

_Gui._ 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[pernone], Sois[son], & others._

Let him appeare to justifie his deede, In spight of my betrai'd wounds; ere my soule Take her flight through them, and my tongue hath strength 40 To urge his tyrannie.

_Henry._ See, sir, I am come To justifie 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 45 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 save the bloud 50 Of many thousands.

_Gui._ 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 lives, Against the pure forme and just power of law, 55 Will thrive like shifters purchases; there hangs A blacke starre in the skies, to which the sunne Gives yet no light, will raine a poyson'd shower Into your entrailes, that will make you feele How little safetie lies in treacherous steele. 60

_Hen._ Well, sir, Ile beare it; y'have 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._

_Gui._ So, sir, your full swindge take; mine death hath curb'd. 65 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 love to him?

_Aumale._ I will, my lord. 70

_Gui._ Thankes with my last breath: recommend me, then, To the most worthy of the race of men. _Dyes. Exeunt._

[SCÆNA QUINTA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter Monts[urry] and Tamyra._

_Montsurry._ Who have you let into my house?

_Tamyra._ I? none.

_Mont._ Tis false; I savour the rancke bloud of foes In every corner.

_Tam._ That you may doe well; It is the bloud you lately shed you smell.

_Mont._ Sdeath! the vault opens. _The gulfe opens._

_Tam._ What vault? hold your sword. 5

_Clermont ascends._

_Clermont._ No, let him use 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 10 Enter or touch you: I conferre no guards, Nor imitate the murtherous course you tooke, But single here will have my former challenge Now answer'd single; not a minute more My brothers bloud shall stay for his revenge, 15 If I can act it; if not, mine shall adde A double conquest to you, that alone Put it to fortune now, and use no ods. Storme not, nor beate your selfe thus gainst the dores, Like to a savage vermine in a trap: 20 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 save you, Doe not so shame man, and a Nobleman. 25

_Mont._ I doe not show this basenesse that I feare thee, But to prevent and shame thy victory, Which of one base is base, and so Ile die.

_Cler._ Here, then.

_Mont._ Stay, hold! One thought hath harden'd me, _He starts up._ And since I must afford thee victorie, 30 It shall be great and brave, if one request Thou wilt admit mee.

_Cler._ What's that?

_Mont._ Give me leave To fetch and use the sword thy brother gave mee, When he was bravely giving up his life.

_Cler._ No; Ile not fight against my brothers sword; 35 Not that I feare it, but since tis a tricke For you to show your backe.

_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. 40 Hee will lie like a lapwing; when shee flyes Farre from her sought nest, still "Here tis" shee cryes.