Part 9

_Exeunt . . . Monsieur_. A omits.

_She seemes to sound_. A omits.

151-154 _Sweet . . . enough_. A has instead:--

Sweete lord, cleare up those eies, for shame of noblesse: Mercilesse creature; but it is enough.

B has three lines broken at _forehead_, _warres_, _enough_.

180 _fingers_. A, hand.

181 _comes . . . him_. Punctuated by ed.; Qq, comes my stain from him?

193 _Even . . . curst seed_. A, Even to his teeth, whence, in mine honors soile.

205-209 _papers hold . . . for it_. Omitted in A, which has instead:--

Be not nice For any trifle, jeweld with your honour, To pawne your honor.

212 _well_. A, much.

217 _this touch_. A, my lord.

232 _But I will to him_. A, Ile attend your lordship.

234 _Meet_. A, Speake.

236 _To him . . . him_. A omits.

[ACTUS QUARTI SCENA SECUNDA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter D'Ambois and Frier._

_Bussy._ I am suspitious, my most honour'd father, By some of Monsieurs cunning passages, That his still ranging and contentious nose-thrils To scent the haunts of mischiefe have so us'd The vicious vertue of his busie sence 5 That he trails hotly of him, and will rowze him, Driving him all enrag'd and foming on us; And therefore have entreated your deepe skill In the command of good aeriall spirits, To assume these magick rites, and call up one, 10 To know if any have reveal'd unto him Any thing touching my deare love and me.

_Friar._ Good sonne, you have amaz'd me but to make The least doubt of it, it concernes so neerely The faith and reverence of my name and order. 15 Yet will I justifie upon my soule All I have done; If any spirit i'th[e] earth or aire Can give you the resolve, doe not despaire.

_Musick: and Tamira enters with Pero, her maid, bearing a letter._

_Tamyra._ Away, deliver it. _Exit Pero._ O may my lines, 20 Fill'd with the poyson of a womans hate, When he shall open them, shrink up his curst eyes With torturous darknesse, such as stands in hell, Stuck full of inward horrors, never lighted; With which are all things to be fear'd, affrighted. 25

_Buss._ How is it with my honour'd mistresse?

_Tam._ O, servant, help, and save me from the gripes Of shame and infamy. Our love is knowne; Your Monsieur hath a paper where is writ Some secret tokens that decipher it. 30

_Buss._ What cold dull Northern brain, what foole but he, Durst take into his Epimethean breast A box of such plagues as the danger yeelds Incur'd in this discovery? He had better Ventur'd his breast in the consuming reach 35 Of the hot surfets cast out of the clouds, Or stood the bullets that (to wreak the skie) The Cyclops ramme in Joves artillerie.

_Fri._ We soone will take the darknesse from his face That did that deed of darknesse; we will know 40 What now the Monsieur and your husband doe; What is contain'd within the secret paper Offer'd by Monsieur, and your loves events. To which ends (honour'd daughter) at your motion I have put on these exorcising rites, 45 And, by my power of learned holinesse Vouchsaft me from above, I will command Our resolution of a raised spirit.

_Tam._ Good father, raise him in some beauteous forme, That with least terror I may brook his sight. 50

_Fri._ Stand sure together, then, what ere you see, And stir not, as ye tender all our lives. _He puts on his robes._

_Occidentalium legionum spiritualium imperator (magnus ille Behemoth) veni, veni, comitatus cum Asaroth locotenente invicto. Adjuro te, per Stygis 55 inscrutabilia arcana, per ipsos irremeabiles anfractus Averni: adesto ô Behemoth, tu cui pervia sunt Magnatum scrinia; veni, per Noctis & tenebrarum abdita profundissima; per labentia sydera; per ipsos motus horarum furtivos, Hecatesq[ue] altum silentium! 60 Appare in forma spiritali, lucente, splendida, & amabili!_

_Thunder. Ascendit [Behemoth with Cartophylax and other spirits]._

_Behemoth._ What would the holy frier?

_Fri._ I would see What now the Monsieur and Mountsurrie doe, And see the secret paper that the Monsieur 65 Offer'd to Count Montsurry; longing much To know on what events the secret loves Of these two honour'd persons shall arrive.

_Beh._ Why calledst thou me to this accursed light, To these light purposes? I am Emperor 70 Of that inscrutable darknesse, where are hid All deepest truths, and secrets never seene, All which I know; and command legions Of knowing spirits that can doe more then these. Any of this my guard that circle me 75 In these blew fires, and out of whose dim fumes Vast murmurs use to break, and from their sounds Articulat voyces, can doe ten parts more Than open such sleight truths as you require.

_Fri._ From the last nights black depth I call'd up one 80 Of the inferiour ablest ministers, And he could not resolve mee. Send one, then, Out of thine owne command to fetch the paper That Monsieur hath to shew to Count Montsurry.

_Beh._ I will. Cartophylax! thou that properly 85 Hast in thy power all papers so inscrib'd, Glide through all barres to it, and fetch that paper.

_Cartophylax._ I will. _A torch removes._

_Fri._ Till he returnes (great prince of darknesse) Tell me if Monsieur and the Count Montsurry 90 Are yet encounter'd.

_Beh._ Both them and the Guise Are now together.

_Fri._ Show us all their persons, And represent the place, with all their actions.

_Beh._ The spirit will strait return, and then Ile shew thee. See, he is come. Why brought'st thou not the paper? 95

_Car._ He hath prevented me, and got a spirit Rais'd by another, great in our command, To take the guard of it before I came.

_Beh._ This is your slacknesse, not t'invoke our powers When first your acts set forth to their effects. 100 Yet shall you see it and themselves. Behold They come here, & the Earle now holds the paper.

_Ent[er] Mons[ieur], Gui[se], Mont[surry], with a paper._

_Buss._ May we not heare them?

[_Fri._] No, be still and see.

_Buss._ I will goe fetch the paper.

_Fri._ Doe not stirre. There's too much distance, and too many locks 105 Twixt you and them (how neere so e're they seeme) For any man to interrupt their secrets.

_Tam._ O honour'd spirit, flie into the fancie Of my offended lord; and doe not let him Beleeve what there the wicked man hath written. 110

_Beh._ Perswasion hath already enter'd him Beyond reflection; peace, till their departure!

* * * * *

_Monsieur._ There is a glasse of ink where you may see How to make ready black fac'd tragedy: You now discerne, I hope, through all her paintings, 115 Her gasping wrinkles and fames sepulchres.

_Guise._ Think you he faines, my lord? what hold you now? Doe we maligne your wife, or honour you?

_Mons._ What, stricken dumb! Nay fie, lord, be not danted: Your case is common; were it ne're so rare, 120 Beare it as rarely! Now to laugh were manly. A worthy man should imitate the weather, That sings in tempests, and being cleare, is silent.

_Gui._ Goe home, my lord, and force your wife to write Such loving lines to D'Ambois as she us'd 125 When she desir'd his presence.

_Mons._ Doe, my lord, And make her name her conceal'd messenger, That close and most inennerable pander, That passeth all our studies to exquire: By whom convay the letter to her love; 130 And so you shall be sure to have him come Within the thirsty reach of your revenge. Before which, lodge an ambush in her chamber, Behind the arras, of your stoutest men All close and soundly arm'd; and let them share 135 A spirit amongst them that would serve a thousand.

_Enter Pero with a letter._

_Gui._ Yet, stay a little: see, she sends for you.

_Mons._ Poore, loving lady, she'le make all good yet; Think you not so, my lord? _Mont[surry] stabs Pero, and exit._

_Gui._ Alas, poore soule!

_Mons._ This was cruelly done, y'faith.

_Pero._ T'was nobly done; 140 And I forgive his lordship from my soule.

_Mons._ Then much good doo't thee, Pero! hast a letter?

_Per._ I hope it rather be a bitter volume Of worthy curses for your perjury.

_Gui._ To you, my lord.

_Mons._ To me? Now out upon her! 145

_Gui._ Let me see, my lord.

_Mons._ You shall presently: how fares my Pero? _Enter Servant._ Who's there? Take in this maid, sh'as caught a clap, And fetch my surgeon to her. Come, my lord, We'l now peruse our letter. _Exeunt Mons[ieur], Guise. Lead her out._

_Per._ Furies rise 150 Out of the black lines, and torment his soule!

* * * * *

_Tam._ Hath my lord slaine my woman?

_Beh._ No, she lives.

_Fri._ What shall become of us?

_Beh._ All I can say, Being call'd thus late, is briefe, and darkly this:-- If D'Ambois mistresse die not her white hand 155 In her forc'd bloud, he shall remaine untoucht: So, father, shall your selfe, but by your selfe. To make this augurie plainer, when the voyce Of D'Amboys shall invoke me, I will rise Shining in greater light, and shew him all 160 That will betide ye all. Meane time be wise, And curb his valour with your policies. _Descendit cum suis._

_Buss._ Will he appeare to me when I invoke him?

_Fri._ He will, be sure.

_Buss._ It must be shortly, then, For his dark words have tyed my thoughts on knots 165 Till he dissolve and free them.

_Tam._ In meane time, Deare servant, till your powerfull voice revoke him, Be sure to use the policy he advis'd; Lest fury in your too quick knowledge taken Of our abuse, and your defence of me, 170 Accuse me more than any enemy. And, father, you must on my lord impose Your holiest charges, and the Churches power, To temper his hot spirit, and disperse The cruelty and the bloud I know his hand 175 Will showre upon our heads, if you put not Your finger to the storme, and hold it up, As my deare servant here must doe with Monsieur.

_Buss._ Ile sooth his plots, and strow my hate with smiles, Till all at once the close mines of my heart 180 Rise at full date, and rush into his bloud: Ile bind his arme in silk, and rub his flesh To make the veine swell, that his soule may gush Into some kennell where it longs to lie; And policy shall be flanckt with policy. 185 Yet shall the feeling Center where we meet Groane with the wait of my approaching feet: Ile make th'inspired threshals of his Court Sweat with the weather of my horrid steps, Before I enter: yet will I appeare 190 Like calme security before a ruine. A politician must, like lightning, melt The very marrow, and not taint the skin: His wayes must not be seene; the superficies Of the greene Center must not taste his feet, 195 When hell is plow'd up with his wounding tracts, And all his harvest reap't by hellish facts. _Exeunt._

_Finis Actus Quarti._

LINENOTES:

_Enter D'Ambois and Frier_ and 1-19 _I am . . . despaire_. A omits.

18 _th[e]_. Emend, ed.; B, th.

_Tamira enters_. A, she enters. _Pero, her maid_. Emend. Dilke; A, her maid; B, Pero and her maid.

22 _curst_. A omits.

25 After this line A has Father, followed by stage direction: _Ascendit Bussy with Comolet._

28-31 _Our love is knowne; . . . but he_. Omitted in A, which has instead:--

_Buss._ What insensate stocke, Or rude inanimate vapour without fashion.

_He puts on his robes._ A omits.

_Thunder._ A omits.

78 _Articulat_. In some copies of B this is printed: Articular.

80 _one_. A; B, on.

103 [_Fri._] Emend, ed.; Qq, _Monsieur_.

113 _where you may_. A, wherein you.

_Enter . . . letter_. A omits.

_Mont[surry] . . . exit_. Emend. ed.; A, _Exit Mont._, which it places after _y'faith_ in l. 140; B, _Exit Mont. and stabs Pero_.]

143 _rather be a bitter_. A, be, at least, if not a.

145 _To you . . . me_? A omits. _Enter servant_. A omits.

155 _die_. A, stay.

156 _In_. A, With. _her_. Emend. Dilke; Qq, his. See note, p. 159.

162 _And curb . . . policies_. A, And let him curb his rage with policy.

193 _taint_. A, print.

197 _by_. A, from.

ACTUS QUINTI SCENA PRIMA.

[_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Montsurry bare, unbrac't, pulling Tamyra in by the haire; Frier; One bearing light, a standish, and paper, which sets a table._

_Tamyra._ O, help me, father!

_Friar._ Impious earle, forbeare; Take violent hand from her, or, by mine order, The King shall force thee.

_Montsurry._ Tis not violent; Come you not willingly?

_Tam._ Yes, good my lord.

_Fri._ My lord, remember that your soule must seek 5 Her peace as well as your revengefull bloud. You ever to this houre have prov'd your selfe A noble, zealous, and obedient sonne T'our holy mother: be not an apostate. Your wives offence serves not (were it the worst 10 You can imagine) without greater proofes To sever your eternall bonds and hearts; Much lesse to touch her with a bloudy hand. Nor is it manly (much lesse husbandly) To expiate any frailty in your wife 15 With churlish strokes, or beastly ods of strength. The stony birth of clowds will touch no lawrell, Nor any sleeper: your wife is your lawrell, And sweetest sleeper; doe not touch her, then; Be not more rude than the wild seed of vapour 20 To her that is more gentle than that rude; In whom kind nature suffer'd one offence But to set off her other excellence.

_Mont._ Good father, leave us: interrupt no more The course I must runne for mine honour sake. 25 Rely on my love to her, which her fault Cannot extinguish. Will she but disclose Who was the secret minister of her love, And through what maze he serv'd it, we are friends.

_Fri._ It is a damn'd work to pursue those secrets 30 That would ope more sinne, and prove springs of slaughter; Nor is't a path for Christian feet to tread, But out of all way to the health of soules; A sinne impossible to be forgiven, Which he that dares commit--

_Mont._ Good father, cease your terrors. 35 Tempt not a man distracted; I am apt To outrages that I shall ever rue: I will not passe the verge that bounds a Christian, Nor break the limits of a man nor husband.

_Fri._ Then Heaven inspire you both with thoughts and deeds 40 Worthy his high respect, and your owne soules!

_Tam._ Father!

_Fri._ I warrant thee, my dearest daughter, He will not touch thee; think'st thou him a pagan? His honor and his soule lies for thy safety. _Exit._

_Mont._ Who shall remove the mountaine from my brest, 45 Stand [in] the opening furnace of my thoughts, And set fit out-cries for a soule in hell? _Mont[surry] turnes a key._ For now it nothing fits my woes to speak, But thunder, or to take into my throat The trump of Heaven, with whose determinate blasts 50 The windes shall burst and the devouring seas Be drunk up in his sounds, that my hot woes (Vented enough) I might convert to vapour Ascending from my infamie unseene; Shorten the world, preventing the last breath 55 That kils the living, and regenerates death.

_Tam._ My lord, my fault (as you may censure it With too strong arguments) is past your pardon. But how the circumstances may excuse mee, Heaven knowes, and your more temperate minde hereafter 60 May let my penitent miseries make you know.

_Mont._ Hereafter! tis a suppos'd infinite That from this point will rise eternally. Fame growes in going; in the scapes of vertue Excuses damne her: they be fires in cities 65 Enrag'd with those winds that lesse lights extinguish. Come syren, sing, and dash against my rocks Thy ruffin gally rig'd with quench for lust: Sing, and put all the nets into thy voice With which thou drew'st into thy strumpets lap 70 The spawne of Venus, and in which ye danc'd; That, in thy laps steed, I may digge his tombe, And quit his manhood with a womans sleight, Who never is deceiv'd in her deceit. Sing (that is, write); and then take from mine eyes 75 The mists that hide the most inscrutable pander That ever lapt up an adulterous vomit, That I may see the devill, and survive To be a devill, and then learne to wive! That I may hang him, and then cut him downe, 80 Then cut him up, and with my soules beams search The cranks and cavernes of his braine, and study The errant wildernesse of a womans face, Where men cannot get out, for all the comets That have beene lighted at it. Though they know 85 That adders lie a sunning in their smiles, That basilisks drink their poyson from their eyes, And no way there to coast out to their hearts, Yet still they wander there, and are not stay'd Till they be fetter'd, nor secure before 90 All cares devoure them, nor in humane consort Till they embrace within their wives two breasts All Pelion and Cythæron with their beasts.-- Why write you not?

_Tam._ O, good my lord, forbeare In wreak of great faults to engender greater, 95 And make my loves corruption generate murther.

_Mont._ It followes needfully as childe and parent; The chaine-shot of thy lust is yet aloft, And it must murther; tis thine owne deare twinne. No man can adde height to a womans sinne. 100 Vice never doth her just hate so provoke, As when she rageth under vertues cloake. Write! for it must be--by this ruthlesse steele, By this impartiall torture, and the death Thy tyrannies have invented in my entrails, 105 To quicken life in dying, and hold up The spirits in fainting, teaching to preserve Torments in ashes that will ever last. Speak: will you write?

_Tam._ Sweet lord, enjoyne my sinne Some other penance than what makes it worse: 110 Hide in some gloomie dungeon my loth'd face, And let condemned murtherers let me downe (Stopping their noses) my abhorred food: Hang me in chaines, and let me eat these armes That have offended: binde me face to face 115 To some dead woman, taken from the cart Of execution?--till death and time In graines of dust dissolve me, Ile endure; Or any torture that your wraths invention Can fright all pitie from the world withall. 120 But to betray a friend with shew of friendship, That is too common for the rare revenge Your rage affecteth; here then are my breasts, Last night your pillowes; here my wretched armes, As late the wished confines of your life: 125 Now break them, as you please, and all the bounds Of manhood, noblesse, and religion.

_Mont._ Where all these have bin broken, they are kept In doing their justice there with any shew Of the like cruell cruelty: thine armes have lost 130 Their priviledge in lust, and in their torture Thus they must pay it. _Stabs her._

_Tam._ O lord--

_Mont._ Till thou writ'st, Ile write in wounds (my wrongs fit characters) Thy right of sufferance. Write!

_Tam._ O kill me, kill me! Deare husband, be not crueller than death! 135 You have beheld some Gorgon: feele, O feele How you are turn'd to stone. With my heart blood Dissolve your selfe againe, or you will grow Into the image of all tyrannie.

_Mont._ As thou art of adultry; I will ever 140 Prove thee my parallel, being most a monster. Thus I expresse thee yet. _Stabs her againe._

_Tam._ And yet I live.

_Mont._ I, for thy monstrous idoll is not done yet. This toole hath wrought enough. Now, Torture, use _Ent[er] Servants._ This other engine on th'habituate powers 145 Of her thrice damn'd and whorish fortitude: Use the most madding paines in her that ever Thy venoms sok'd through, making most of death, That she may weigh her wrongs with them--and then Stand, vengeance, on thy steepest rock, a victor! 150

_Tam._ O who is turn'd into my lord and husband? Husband! my lord! None but my lord and husband! Heaven, I ask thee remission of my sinnes, Not of my paines: husband, O help me, husband!

_Ascendit Frier with a sword drawne._

_Fri._ What rape of honour and religion! 155 O wrack of nature! _Falls and dies._

_Tam._ Poore man! O, my father! Father, look up! O, let me downe, my lord, And I will write.

_Mont._ Author of prodigies! What new flame breakes out of the firmament That turnes up counsels never knowne before? 160 Now is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still; Even heaven it selfe must see and suffer ill. The too huge bias of the world hath sway'd Her back-part upwards, and with that she braves This hemisphere that long her mouth hath mockt: 165 The gravity of her religious face (Now growne too waighty with her sacriledge, And here discern'd sophisticate enough) Turnes to th'Antipodes; and all the formes That her illusions have imprest in her 170 Have eaten through her back; and now all see How she is riveted with hypocrisie. Was this the way? was he the mean betwixt you?

_Tam._ He was, he was, kind worthy man, he was.

_Mont._ Write, write a word or two.

_Tam._ I will, I will. 175 Ile write, but with my bloud, that he may see These lines come from my wounds & not from me. _Writes._

_Mont._ Well might he die for thought: methinks the frame And shaken joynts of the whole world should crack To see her parts so disproportionate; 180 And that his generall beauty cannot stand Without these staines in the particular man. Why wander I so farre? here, here was she That was a whole world without spot to me, Though now a world of spots. Oh what a lightning 185 Is mans delight in women! What a bubble He builds his state, fame, life on, when he marries! Since all earths pleasures are so short and small, The way t'enjoy it is t'abjure it all. Enough! I must be messenger my selfe, 190 Disguis'd like this strange creature. In, Ile after, To see what guilty light gives this cave eyes, And to the world sing new impieties.

_He puts the Frier in the vault and follows. She raps her self in the arras._

_Exeunt [Servants]._

LINENOTES:

_by the haire_. A omits.

1-4 _O, help . . . my lord_. A omits.

21 _than that_. A, than it.

28 _secret_. A, hateful.

32 _tread_. A, touch.

35 _your terrors_. A omits.

35-6 _Good . . . distracted_. B punctuates:--

Good father cease: your terrors Tempt not a man distracted.

40 _Heaven_. A, God. _you_. A, ye.

42-4 _Father . . . safety_. A omits.

45 _brest_. A, heart.

46 _Stand [in] the opening_. Emend, ed.; A, Ope the seven-times heat; B, Stand the opening.

48 _woes_. A, cares.

51 _devouring_. A, enraged.

60 _Heaven_. A, God.

68 _rig'd with quench for_. A, laden for thy.

91 _devoure_. A, distract. _consort_. A, state.

95 _faults_. A, sins.

129 _with any shew . . . cruelty_. A omits.

140 _ever_. A, still.

141 _parallel_. A, like in ill.

_Enter Servants._ A omits.

_with a sword drawne_. A omits.

_Falls and dies._ A omits.

174 _worthy_. A, innocent.

_He . . . arras._ _Exeunt._ A omits; B places _He . . . arras_ after _Exeunt_.

[SCENA SECUNDA.

_A Room in Montsurry's House._]

_Enter Monsieur and Guise._