initial commit of ebook 20890HEADmain

1 files changed, 12698 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/20890.txt b/20890.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..33e90bc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/20890.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12698 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy
+D'Ambois, by George Chapman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois
+
+Author: George Chapman
+
+Editor: Frederick S. Boas
+
+Release Date: March 24, 2007 [EBook #20890]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUSSY D'AMBOIS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Melissa Er-Raqabi, Ted Garvin, Lisa Reigel,
+Michael Zeug, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Words italicized in the original are surrounded by
+_underscores_. Words in bold in the original are surrounded by =equal
+signs=. Words in Greek in the original are transliterated and placed
+between +plus signs+. A complete list of corrections follows the text.
+
+
+
+
+BUSSY D'AMBOIS
+
+AND
+
+THE REVENGE OF
+BUSSY D'AMBOIS
+
+
+BY GEORGE CHAPMAN
+
+
+EDITED BY
+
+FREDERICK S. BOAS, M.A.
+
+PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN
+QUEEN'S COLLEGE, BELFAST
+
+
+BOSTON, U.S.A., AND LONDON
+D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS
+1905
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY
+D. C. HEATH & CO.
+
+
+
+
+Prefatory Note
+
+
+In this volume an attempt is made for the first time to edit _Bussy
+D'Ambois_ and _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ in a manner suitable to
+the requirements of modern scholarship. Of the relations of this edition
+to its predecessors some details are given in the Notes on the Text of
+the two plays. But in these few prefatory words I should like to call
+attention to one or two points, and make some acknowledgments.
+
+The immediate source of _Bussy D'Ambois_ still remains undiscovered. But
+the episodes in the career of Chapman's hero, vouched for by
+contemporaries like Brantome and Marguerite of Valois, and related in
+some detail in my _Introduction_, are typical of the material which the
+dramatist worked upon. And an important clue to the spirit in which he
+handled it is the identification, here first made, of part of Bussy's
+dying speech with lines put by Seneca into the mouth of Hercules in his
+last agony on Mount Oeta. The exploits of D'Ambois were in Chapman's
+imaginative vision those of a semi-mythical hero rather than of a
+Frenchman whose life overlapped with his own.
+
+On the _provenance_ of _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ I have been
+fortunately able, with valuable assistance from others, to cast much new
+light. In an article in _The Athenaeum_, Jan. 10, 1903, I showed that the
+immediate source of many of the episodes in the play was Edward
+Grimeston's translation (1607) of Jean de Serres's _Inventaire General
+de l'Histoire de France_. Since that date I owe to Mr. H. Richards,
+Fellow of Wadham College, Oxford, the important discovery that a number
+of speeches in the play are borrowed from the _Discourses_ of Epictetus,
+from whom Chapman drew his conception of the character of Clermont
+D'Ambois. My brother-in-law, Mr. S. G. Owen, Student of Christ Church,
+has given me valuable help in explaining some obscure classical
+allusions. Dr. J. A. H. Murray, the editor of the _New English
+Dictionary_, has kindly furnished me with the interpretation of a
+difficult passage in _Bussy D'Ambois_; and Mr. W. J. Craig, editor of
+the _Arden_ Shakespeare, and Mr. Le Gay Brereton, of the University of
+Sidney, have been good enough to proffer helpful suggestions. Finally I
+am indebted to Professor George P. Baker, the General Editor of this
+Series, for valuable advice and help on a large number of points, while
+the proofs of this volume were passing through the press.
+
+                                                           F. S. B.
+
+
+
+
+Biography
+
+
+George Chapman was probably born in the year after Elizabeth's
+accession. Anthony Wood gives 1557 as the date, but the inscription on
+his portrait, prefixed to the edition of _The Whole Works of Homer_ in
+1616, points to 1559. He was a native of Hitchin in Hertfordshire, as we
+learn from an allusion in his poem _Euthymiae Raptus_ or _The Teares of
+Peace_, and from W. Browne's reference to him in _Britannia's Pastorals_
+as "the learned shepheard of faire Hitching Hill." According to Wood "in
+1574 or thereabouts, he being well grounded in school learning was sent
+to the University." Wood is uncertain whether he went first to Oxford or
+to Cambridge, but he is sure, though he gives no authority for the
+statement, that Chapman spent some time at the former "where he was
+observed to be most excellent in the Latin & Greek tongues, but not in
+logic or philosophy, and therefore I presume that that was the reason
+why he took no degree there."
+
+His life for almost a couple of decades afterwards is a blank, though it
+has been conjectured on evidences drawn from _The Shadow of Night_ and
+_Alphonsus Emperor of Germany_, respectively, that he served in one of
+Sir F. Vere's campaigns in the Netherlands, and that he travelled in
+Germany. _The Shadow of Night_, consisting of two "poeticall hymnes"
+appeared in 1594, and is his first extant work. It was followed in 1595
+by _Ovid's Banquet of Sence_, _The Amorous Zodiac_, and other poems.
+These early compositions, while containing fine passages, are obscure
+and crabbed in style.[v-1] In 1598 appeared Marlowe's fragmentary _Hero
+and Leander_ with Chapman's continuation. By this year he had
+established his position as a playwright, for Meres in his _Palladis
+Tamia_ praises him both as a writer of tragedy and of comedy. We know
+from Henslowe's _Diary_ that his earliest extant comedy _The Blinde
+Begger of Alexandria_ was produced on February 12, 1596, and that for
+the next two or three years he was working busily for this enterprising
+manager. _An Humerous dayes Myrth_ (pr. 1599), and _All Fooles_ (pr.
+1605) under the earlier title of _The World Runs on Wheels_,[vi-1] were
+composed during this period.
+
+Meanwhile he had begun the work with which his name is most closely
+linked, his translation of Homer. The first instalment, entitled _Seaven
+Bookes of the Iliades of Homere, Prince of Poets_, was published in
+1598, and was dedicated to the Earl of Essex. After the Earl's execution
+Chapman found a yet more powerful patron, for, as we learn from the
+letters printed recently in _The Athenaeum_ (cf. _Bibliography_, sec.
+III), he was appointed about 1604 "sewer (i. e. cupbearer) in ordinary,"
+to Prince Henry, eldest son of James I. The Prince encouraged him to
+proceed with his translation, and about 1609 appeared the first twelve
+books of the _Iliad_ (including the seven formerly published) with a
+fine "Epistle Dedicatory," to "the high-born Prince of men, Henry." In
+1611 the version of the _Iliad_ was completed, and that of the _Odyssey_
+was, at Prince Henry's desire, now taken in hand. But the untimely death
+of the Prince, on November 6th, 1612, dashed all Chapman's hopes of
+receiving the anticipated reward of his labours. According to a petition
+which he addressed to the Privy Council, the Prince had promised him on
+the conclusion of his translation L300, and "uppon his deathbed a good
+pension during my life." Not only were both of these withheld, but he
+was deprived of his post of "sewer" by Prince Charles. Nevertheless he
+completed the version of the _Odyssey_ in 1614, and in 1616 he published
+a folio volume entitled _The Whole Works of Homer_. The translation, in
+spite of its inaccuracies and its "conceits," is, by virtue of its
+sustained dignity and vigour, one of the noblest monuments of
+Elizabethan genius.
+
+By 1605, if not earlier, Chapman had resumed his work for the stage. In
+that year he wrote conjointly with Marston and Jonson the comedy of
+_Eastward Hoe_. On account of some passages reflecting on the Scotch,
+the authors were imprisoned. The details of the affair are obscure.
+According to Jonson, in his conversation later with Drummond, Chapman
+and Marston were responsible for the obnoxious passages, and he
+voluntarily imprisoned himself with them. But in one of the recently
+printed letters, which apparently refers to this episode, Chapman
+declares that he and Jonson lie under the Kings displeasure for "two
+clawses and both of them not our owne," i. e., apparently, written by
+Marston.[vii-1] However this may be, the offenders were soon released,
+and Chapman continued energetically his dramatic work. In 1606 appeared
+two of his most elaborate comedies, _The Gentleman Usher_ and _Monsieur
+D'Olive_, and in the next year was published his first and most
+successful tragedy, _Bussy D'Ambois_. In 1608 were produced two
+connected plays, _The Conspiracie and Tragedie of Charles, Duke of
+Byron_, dealing with recent events in France, and based upon materials
+in E. Grimeston's translation (1607) of Jean de Serres' History. Again
+Chapman found himself in trouble with the authorities, for the French
+ambassador, offended by a scene in which Henry IV's Queen was introduced
+in unseemly fashion, had the performance of the plays stopped for a
+time. Chapman had to go into hiding to avoid arrest, and when he came
+out, he had great difficulty in getting the plays licensed for
+publication, even with the omission of the offending episodes. His
+fourth tragedy based on French history, _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_,
+appeared in 1613. It had been preceded by two comedies, _May-Day_
+(1611), and _The Widdowes' Teares_ (1612). Possibly, as Mr Dobell
+suggests (_Athenaeum_, 23 March, 1901), the coarse satire of the latter
+play may have been due to its author's annoyance at the apparent refusal
+of his suit by a widow to whom some of the recently printed letters are
+addressed. In 1613 he produced his _Maske of the Middle Temple and
+Lyncolns Inne_, which was one of the series performed in honour of the
+marriage of the Princess Elizabeth and the Elector Palatine. Another
+hymeneal work, produced on a much less auspicious occasion, was an
+allegorical poem, _Andromeda Liberata_, celebrating the marriage of the
+Earl of Somerset with the divorced Lady Essex in December, 1613.
+
+The year 1614, when the _Odyssey_ was completed, marks the culminating
+point of Chapman's literary activity. Henceforward, partly perhaps owing
+to the disappointment of his hopes through Prince Henry's death, his
+production was more intermittent. Translations of the _Homeric Hymns_,
+of the _Georgicks_ of Hesiod, and other classical writings, mainly
+occupy the period till 1631. In that year he printed another tragedy,
+_Caesar and Pompey_, which, however, as we learn from the dedication, had
+been written "long since." The remaining plays with which his name has
+been connected did not appear during his lifetime. A comedy, _The Ball_,
+licensed in 1632, but not published till 1639, has the names of Chapman
+and Shirley on the title-page, but the latter was certainly its main
+author. Another play, however, issued in the same year, and ascribed to
+the same hands, _The Tragedie of Chabot, Admiral of France_ makes the
+impression, from its subject-matter and its style, of being chiefly due
+to Chapman. In 1654 two tragedies, _Alphonsus Emperour of Germany_ and
+_The Revenge for Honour_, were separately published under Chapman's
+name. Their authorship, however, is doubtful. There is nothing in the
+style or diction of _Alphonsus_ which resembles Chapman's undisputed
+work, and it is hard to believe that he had a hand in it. _The Revenge
+for Honour_ is on an Oriental theme, entirely different from those
+handled by Chapman in his other tragedies, and the versification is
+marked by a greater frequency of feminine endings than is usual with
+him; but phrases and thoughts occur which may be paralleled from his
+plays, and the work may be from his hand.
+
+On May 12, 1634, he died, and was buried in the churchyard of St.
+Giles's in the Field, where his friend Inigo Jones erected a monument to
+his memory. According to Wood, he was a person of "most reverend aspect,
+religious and temperate, qualities rarely meeting in a poet." Though his
+material success seems to have been small, he gained the friendship of
+many of the most illustrious spirits of his time--Essex, Prince Henry,
+Bacon, Jonson, Webster, among the number--and it has been his good
+fortune to draw in after years splendid tributes from such successors in
+the poetic art as Keats and A. C. Swinburne.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[v-1] This Biography was written before the appearance of Mr. Acheson's
+volume, _Shakespeare and the Rival Poet_. Without endorsing all his
+arguments or conclusions, I hold that Mr. Acheson has proved that
+Shakespeare in a number of his Sonnets refers to these earlier poems of
+Chapman's. He has thus brought almost conclusive evidence in support of
+Minto's identification of Shakespeare's rival with Chapman--a conjecture
+with which I, in 1896, expressed strong sympathy in my _Shakspere and
+his Predecessors_.
+
+[vi-1] This identification seems established by the entry in Henslowe's
+_Diary_, under date 2 July 1599. "Lent unto thomas Dowton to paye Mr
+Chapman, in full paymente for his boocke called the world rones a
+whelles, and now all foolles, but the foolle, some of ______ xxxs."
+
+[vii-1] See pp. 158-64, Jonson's _Eastward Hoe and Alchemist_, F. E.
+Schelling (Belles Lettres Series, 1904).
+
+
+
+
+Introduction
+
+
+The group of Chapman's plays based upon recent French history, to which
+_Bussy D'Ambois_ and its sequel belong, forms one of the most unique
+memorials of the Elizabethan drama. The playwrights of the period were
+profoundly interested in the annals of their own country, and exploited
+them for the stage with a magnificent indifference to historical
+accuracy. Gorboduc and Locrine were as real to them as any Lancastrian
+or Tudor prince, and their reigns were made to furnish salutary lessons
+to sixteenth century "magistrates." Scarcely less interesting were the
+heroes of republican Greece and Rome: Caesar, Pompey, and Antony, decked
+out in Elizabethan garb, were as familiar to the playgoers of the time
+as their own national heroes, real or legendary. But the contemporary
+history of continental states had comparatively little attraction for
+the dramatists of the period, and when they handled it, they usually had
+some political or religious end in view. Under a thin veil of allegory,
+Lyly in _Midas_ gratified his audience with a scathing denunciation of
+the ambition and gold-hunger of Philip II of Spain; and half a century
+later Middleton in a still bolder and more transparent allegory, _The
+Game of Chess_, dared to ridicule on the stage Philip's successor, and
+his envoy, Gondomar. But both plays were suggested by the elements of
+friction in the relations of England and Spain.
+
+French history also supplied material to some of the London
+playwrights, but almost exclusively as it bore upon the great conflict
+between the forces of Roman Catholicism and Protestantism. The _Masaker
+of France_, which Henslowe mentions as having been played on January 3,
+1592-3, may or may not be identical with Marlowe's _The Massacre at
+Paris_, printed towards the close of the sixteenth century, but in all
+probability it expressed similarly the burning indignation of Protestant
+England at the appalling events of the Eve of St. Bartholomew. Whatever
+Marlowe's religious or irreligious views may have been, he acted on this
+occasion as the mouthpiece of the vast majority of his countrymen, and
+he founded on recent French history a play which, with all its defects,
+is of special interest to our present inquiry. For Chapman, who finished
+Marlowe's incompleted poem, _Hero and Leander_, must have been familiar
+with this drama, which introduced personages and events that were partly
+to reappear in the two _Bussy_ plays. A brief examination of _The
+Massacre at Paris_ will, therefore, help to throw into relief the
+special characteristics of Chapman's dramas.
+
+It opens with the marriage, in 1572, of Henry of Navarre and Margaret,
+sister of King Charles IX, which was intended to assuage the religious
+strife. But the Duke of Guise, the protagonist of the play, is
+determined to counterwork this policy, and with the aid of Catherine de
+Medicis, the Queen-Mother, and the Duke of Anjou (afterwards Henry III),
+he arranges the massacre of the Huguenots. Of the events of the fatal
+night we get a number of glimpses, including the murder of a
+Protestant, Scroune, by Mountsorrell (Chapman's Montsurry), who is
+represented as one of the Guise's most fanatical adherents. Charles soon
+afterwards dies, and is succeeded by his brother Henry, but "his mind
+runs on his minions," and Catherine and the Guise wield all real power.
+But there is one sphere which Guise cannot control--his wife's heart,
+which is given to Mugeroun, one of the "minions" of the King. Another of
+the minions, Joyeux, is sent against Henry of Navarre, and is defeated
+and slain; but Henry, learning that Guise has raised an army against his
+sovereign "to plant the Pope and Popelings in the realm," joins forces
+with the King against the rebel, who is treacherously murdered and dies
+crying, "_Vive la messe!_ perish Huguenots!" His brother, the Cardinal,
+meets a similar fate, but the house of Lorraine is speedily revenged by
+a friar, who stabs King Henry. He dies, vowing vengeance upon Rome, and
+sending messages to Queen Elizabeth, "whom God hath bless'd for hating
+papistry."
+
+It is easy to see how a play on these lines would have appealed to an
+Elizabethan audience, while Marlowe, whether his religious sympathies
+were engaged or not, realized the dramatic possibilities of the figure
+of the Guise, one of the lawlessly aspiring brotherhood that had so
+irresistible a fascination for his genius. But it is much more difficult
+to understand why, soon after the accession of James I, Chapman should
+have gone back to the same period of French history, and reintroduced a
+number of the same prominent figures, Henry III, Guise, his Duchess, and
+Mountsorrell, not in their relation to great political and religious
+outbreaks, but grouped round a figure who can scarcely have been very
+familiar to the English theatre-going public--Louis de Clermont, Bussy
+d'Amboise.[xii-1]
+
+This personage was born in 1549, and was the eldest son of Jacques de
+Clermont d'Amboise, seigneur de Bussy et de Saxe-Fontaine, by his first
+wife, Catherine de Beauvais. He followed the career of arms, and in 1568
+we hear of him as a commandant of a company. He was in Paris during the
+massacre of St. Bartholomew, and took advantage of it to settle a
+private feud. He had had a prolonged lawsuit with his cousin Antoine de
+Clermont, a prominent Huguenot, and follower of the King of Navarre.
+While his rival was fleeing for safety he had the misfortune to fall
+into the hands of Bussy, who dispatched him then and there. He
+afterwards distinguished himself in various operations against the
+Huguenots, and by his bravery and accomplishments won the favour of the
+Duke of Anjou, who, after the accession of Henry III in 1575, was heir
+to the throne. The Duke in this year appointed him his _couronell_, and
+henceforward he passed into his service. In 1576, as a reward for
+negotiating "_la paix de Monsieur_" with the Huguenots, the Duke
+received the territories of Anjou, Touraine, and Berry, and at once
+appointed Bussy governor of Anjou. In November the new governor arrived
+at Angers, the capital of the Duchy, and was welcomed by the citizens;
+but the disorders and exactions of his troops soon aroused the anger of
+the populace, and the King had to interfere in their behalf, though for
+a time Bussy set his injunctions at defiance. At last he retired from
+the city, and rejoined the Duke, in close intercourse with whom he
+remained during the following years, accompanying him finally on his
+unsuccessful expedition to the Low Countries in the summer of 1578. On
+Anjou's return to court in January, 1579, Bussy, who seems to have
+alienated his patron by his presumptuous behaviour, did not go with him,
+but took up his residence again in the territory of Anjou. He was less
+occupied, however, with his official duties than with his criminal
+passion for Francoise de Maridort, wife of the Comte de Monsoreau, who
+had been appointed _grand-veneur_ to the Duke. The favorite mansion of
+the Comte was at La Coutanciere, and it was here that Bussy ardently
+pursued his intrigue with the Countess. But a jocular letter on the
+subject, which he sent to the Duke of Anjou, was shown, according to the
+historian, De Thou, by the Duke to the King, who, in his turn, passed it
+on to Montsoreau. The latter thereupon forced his wife to make a
+treacherous assignation with Bussy at the chateau on the night of the
+18th of August, and on his appearance, with his companion in pleasure,
+Claude Colasseau, they were both assassinated by the retainers of the
+infuriated husband.
+
+The tragic close of Bussy's life has given his career an interest
+disproportionate to his historical importance. But the drama of La
+Coutanciere was only the final episode in a career crowded with romantic
+incidents. The annalists and memoir-writers of the period prove that
+Bussy's exploits as a duellist and a gallant had impressed vividly the
+imagination of his contemporaries. Margaret of Valois, the wife of Henry
+IV, Brantome, who was a relative and friend of D'Ambois, and L'Estoile,
+the chronicler and journalist, are amongst those who have left us their
+impressions of this _beau sabreur_. Chapman must have had access to
+memorials akin to theirs as a foundation for his drama, and though, for
+chronological reasons, they cannot have been utilized by him, they
+illustrate the materials which he employed.
+
+The first two Acts of the play are chiefly occupied with Bussy's
+arrival at court, his entry into the service of Monsieur, his quarrel
+with Guise, and the duel between himself and Barrisor, with two
+supporters on either side. Brantome, in his _Discours sur les Duels_,
+relates from personal knowledge an incident between Guise and Bussy,
+which took place shortly after the accession of Henry III. The Duke took
+occasion of a royal hunting party to draw Bussy alone into the forest,
+and to demand certain explanations of him. D'Ambois gave these in a
+satisfactory manner; but had he not done so, the Duke declared, in spite
+of their difference of rank, he would have engaged in single combat with
+him. The explanations demanded may well have concerned the honour of the
+Duchess, and we get at any rate a hint for the episode in Chapman's play
+(I, ii, 57-185).
+
+For the duelling narrative (II, i, 35-137) we get considerably more than
+a hint. Our chief authority is again Brantome, in another work, the
+_Discours sur les Couronnels de l'infanterie de France_. He tells us
+that he was with Bussy at a play, when a dispute arose between him and
+the Marquis of Saint-Phal as to whether the jet embroidery on a certain
+muff represented XX or YY. The quarrel was appeased for the time being,
+but on the following day Bussy, meeting Saint-Phal at the house of a
+lady with whom he had had relations, and who was now the mistress of the
+Marquis, renewed the dispute. An encounter took place between Bussy,
+supported by five or six gentlemen, and Saint-Phal, assisted by an equal
+number of Scotchmen of the Royal Guard, one of whom wounded Bussy's
+hand. Thereupon Saint-Phal withdrew, but his fire-eating rival was
+anxious at all hazards for another encounter. It was only with the
+greatest difficulty, as Brantome relates in entertaining fashion, that
+the King was able to bring about a reconciliation between them. Such an
+episode, reported with exaggeration of details, might well have
+suggested the narrative in Act II of the triple encounter.
+
+Brantome further relates a midnight attack upon Bussy, about a month
+later, by a number of his jealous rivals, when he had a narrow escape
+from death. Of this incident another account has been given by Margaret
+of Valois in her _Memoires_. Margaret and her brother, the Duke of
+Anjou, were devoted to one another, and Bussy was for a time a paramour
+of the Queen of Navarre. Though she denies the liaison, she says of him
+that there was not "_en ce siecle-la de son sexe et de sa qualite rien
+de semblable en valeur, reputation, grace, et esprit_." Margaret,
+L'Estoile, and Brantome all relate similar incidents during Bussy's
+sojourn at court in the year 1578, and the last-named adds:
+
+     "_Si je voulois raconter toutes les querelles qu'il a eues,
+     j'aurois beaucoup affaire; helas! il en a trop eu, et toutes
+     les a desmeslees a son tres-grand honneur et heur. Il en
+     vouloit souvant par trop a plusieurs, sans aucun respect; je
+     luy ay dict cent fois; mais il se fioit tant en sa valeur qu'il
+     mesprisoit tous les conseils de ses amis . . . Dieu ayt son ame!
+     Mais il mourut (quand il trespassa) un preux tres vaillant et
+     genereux._"
+
+It is plain, therefore, that Chapman in his picture of Bussy's quarrels
+and encounters-at-arms was deviating little, except in details of names
+and dates, from the actual facts of history. Bussy's career was so
+romantic that it was impossible for even the most inventive dramatist to
+embellish it. This was especially true of its closing episode, which
+occupies the later acts of Chapman's drama--the intrigue with the
+Countess of Montsoreau and the tragic fate which it involved. It is
+somewhat singular that the earliest narratives of the event which have
+come down to us were published subsequently to the play. The statement,
+accepted for a long time, that De Thou's _Historiae sui Temporis_ was the
+basis of Chapman's tragedy, has been completely disproved. The passage
+in which he narrates the story of Bussy's death does not occur in the
+earlier editions of his work, and first found its way into the issue
+published at Geneva in 1620. A similar narrative appeared in the
+following year in L'Estoile's _Journal_, which first saw the light in
+1621, ten years after its author's death. But under a thin disguise
+there had already appeared a detailed history of Bussy's last _amour_
+and his fall, though this, too, was later than Chapman's drama. A
+novelist, Francois de Rosset, had published a volume of tales entitled
+_Les Histoires Tragiques de Nostre Temps_. The earliest known edition is
+one of 1615, though it was preceded, probably not long, by an earlier
+edition full of "_fautes insupportables_," for which Rosset apologizes.
+He is careful to state in his preface that he is relating "_des
+histoires autant veritables que tristes et funestes. Les noms de la
+pluspart des personnages sont seulement desguisez en ce Theatre, a fin
+de n'affliger pas tant les familles de ceux qui en ont donne le sujet._"
+The fate of Bussy forms the subject of the seventeenth history,
+entitled "_De la mort pitoyable du valeureux Lysis_." Lysis was the name
+under which Margaret of Valois celebrated the memory of her former lover
+in a poem entitled "_L'esprit de Lysis disant adieu a sa Flore_." But
+apart from this proof of identification, the details given by Rosset are
+so full that there can be no uncertainty in the matter. Indeed, in some
+of his statements, as in his account of the first meeting between the
+lovers, Rosset probably supplies facts unrecorded by the historians of
+the period.
+
+From a comparison of these more or less contemporary records it is
+evident that, whatever actual source Chapman may have used, he has given
+in many respects a faithful portrait of the historical Bussy D'Ambois.
+It happened that at the time of Bussy's death the Duke of Anjou, his
+patron, was in London, laying ineffective siege to the hand of
+Elizabeth. This coincidence may have given wider currency in England to
+Bussy's tragic story than would otherwise have been the case. But a
+quarter of a century later this adventitious interest would have
+evaporated, and the success of Chapman's play would be due less to its
+theme than to its qualities of style and construction. To these we must
+therefore now turn.
+
+With Chapman's enthusiasm for classical literature, it was natural that
+he should be influenced by classical models, even when handling a
+thoroughly modern subject. His Bussy is, in certain aspects, the _miles
+gloriosus_ of Latin drama, while in the tragic crisis of his fate he
+demonstrably borrows, as is shown in this edition for the first time,
+the accents of the Senecan Hercules on Mount Oeta (cf. notes on v, iv,
+100 and 109). Hence the technique of the work is largely of the
+semi-Senecan type with which Kyd and his school had familiarized the
+English stage. Thus Bussy's opening monologue serves in some sort as a
+Prologue; the narrative by the _Nuntius_ in Act II, i, 35-137, is in the
+most approved classical manner; an _Umbra_ or Ghost makes its regulation
+entrance in the last Act, and though the accumulated horrors of the
+closing scenes violate every canon of classical art, they had become
+traditional in the semi-Senecan type of play, and were doubtless highly
+acceptable to the audiences of the period. But while the Senecan and
+semi-Senecan methods had their dangers, their effect on English
+dramatists was in so far salutary that they necessitated care in
+plot-construction. And it is doubtful whether Chapman has hitherto
+received due credit for the ingenuity and skill with which he has woven
+into the texture of his drama a number of varied threads. Bussy's life
+was, as has been shown, crowded with incidents, and the final
+catastrophe at La Coutanciere had no direct relation with the duels and
+intrigues of his younger days at Court. Chapman, however, has connected
+the earlier and the later episodes with much ingenuity. Departing from
+historical truth, he represents Bussy as a poor adventurer at Court,
+whose fortunes are entirely made by the patronage of Monsieur. His
+sudden elevation turns his head, and he insults the Duke of Guise by
+courting his wife before his face, thus earning his enmity, and exciting
+at the same time the ridicule of the other courtiers. Hence springs the
+encounter with Barrisor and his companions, and this is made to serve as
+an introduction to the _amour_ between Bussy and Tamyra, as Chapman
+chooses to call the Countess of Montsurry. For Barrisor, we are told
+(II, ii, 202 ff.), had long wooed the Countess, and the report was
+spread that the "main quarrel" between him and Bussy "grew about her
+love," Barrisor thinking that D'Ambois's courtship of the Duchess of
+Guise was really directed towards "his elected mistress." On the advice
+of a Friar named Comolet, to whom Chapman strangely enough assigns the
+repulsive _role_ of go-between, Bussy wins his way at night into
+Tamyra's chamber on the plea that he has come to reassure her that she
+is in no way guilty of Barrisor's blood. Thus the main theme of the play
+is linked with the opening incidents, and the action from first to last
+is laid in Paris, whither the closing scenes of Bussy's career are
+shifted. By another ingenious departure from historical truth the Duke
+of Anjou, to whom Bussy owes his rise, is represented as the main agent
+in his fall. He is angered at the favour shown by the King to the
+follower whom he had raised to serve his own ends, and he conspires with
+Guise for his overthrow. He is the more eagerly bent upon this when he
+discovers through Tamyra's waiting-woman that the Countess, whose
+favours he has vainly sought to win, has granted them to Bussy. It is he
+who, by means of a paper, convinces Montsurry of his wife's guilt, and
+it is he, together with Guise, who suggests to the Count the stratagem
+by which Tamyra is forced to decoy her paramour to his doom. All this
+is deftly contrived and does credit to Chapman's dramatic craftsmanship.
+It is true that the last two Acts are spun out with supernatural
+episodes of a singularly unconvincing type. The Friar's invocation of
+Behemoth, who proves a most unserviceable spirit, and the vain attempts
+of this scoundrelly ecclesiastic's ghost to shield D'Ambois from his
+fate, strike us as wofully crude and mechanical excursions into the
+occult. But they doubtless served their turn with audiences who had an
+insatiable craving for such manifestations, and were not particular as
+to the precise form they took.
+
+In point of character-drawing the play presents a more complex problem.
+Bussy is a typically Renaissance hero and appealed to the sympathies of
+an age which set store above all things on exuberant vitality and
+prowess, and was readier than our own to allow them full rein. The King
+seems to be giving voice to Chapman's conception of Bussy's character,
+when he describes him in III, ii, 90 ff. as
+
+     "A man so good that only would uphold
+     Man in his native noblesse, from whose fall
+     All our dissentions arise," &c.
+
+And in certain aspects Bussy does not come far short of the ideal thus
+pictured. His bravery, versatility, frankness, and readiness of speech
+are all vividly portrayed, while his mettlesome temper and his arrogance
+are alike essential to his _role_, and are true to the record of the
+historical D'Ambois. But there is a coarseness of fibre in Chapman's
+creation, an occasional foul-mouthed ribaldry of utterance which robs
+him of sympathetic charm. He has in him more of the swashbuckler and the
+bully than of the courtier and the cavalier. Beaumont and Fletcher, one
+cannot help feeling, would have invested him with more refinement and
+grace, and would have given a tenderer note to the love-scenes between
+him and Tamyra. Bussy takes the Countess's affections so completely by
+storm, and he ignores so entirely the rights of her husband, that it is
+difficult to accord him the measure of sympathy in his fall, which the
+fate of a tragic hero should evoke.
+
+Tamyra appeals more to us, because we see in her more of the conflict
+between passion and moral obligation, which is the essence of drama. Her
+scornful rejection of the advances of Monsieur (II, ii), though her
+husband palliates his conduct as that of "a bachelor and a courtier, I,
+and a prince," proves that she is no light o' love, and that her
+surrender to Bussy is the result of a sudden and overmastering passion.
+Even in the moment of keenest expectation she is torn between
+conflicting emotions (II, ii, 169-182), and after their first interview,
+Bussy takes her to task because her
+
+                 "Conscience is too nice,
+     And bites too hotly of the Puritane spice."
+
+But she masters her scruples sufficiently to play the thorough-going
+dissembler when she meets her husband, and she keeps up the pretence
+when she declares to Bussy before the Court (III, ii, 138), "Y'are one I
+know not," and speaks of him vaguely in a later scene as "the man." So,
+too, when Montsurry first tells her of the suspicions which Monsieur
+has excited in him, she protests with artfully calculated indignation
+against the charge of wrong-doing with this "serpent." But the brutal
+and deliberate violence of her husband when he knows the truth, and the
+perfidious meanness with which he makes her the reluctant instrument of
+her lover's ruin, win back for her much of our alienated sympathy. Yet
+at the close her position is curiously equivocal. It is at her prayer
+that Bussy has spared Montsurry when "he hath him down" in the final
+struggle; but when her lover is mortally wounded by a pistol shot, she
+implores his pardon for her share in bringing him to his doom. And when
+the Friar's ghost seeks to reconcile husband and wife, the former is
+justified in crying ironically (V, iv, 163-64):
+
+     "See how she merits this, still kneeling by,
+     And mourning his fall, more than her own fault!"
+
+Montsurry's portraiture, indeed, suffers from the same lack of
+consistency as his wife's. In his earlier relations with her he strikes
+a tenderer note than is heard elsewhere in the play, and his first
+outburst of fury, when his suspicions are aroused, springs, like
+Othello's, from the depth of his love and trust (IV, i, 169-70):
+
+                   "My whole heart is wounded,
+     When any least thought in you is but touch'd."
+
+But there is nothing of Othello's noble agony of soul, nor of his sense
+that he is carrying out a solemn judicial act on the woman he still
+loves, in Montsurry's long-drawn torture of his wife. Indeed a
+comparison of the episodes brings into relief the restraint and purity
+of Shakespeare's art when handling the most terrible of tragic themes.
+Yet the Moor himself might have uttered Montsurry's cry (V, i, 183-85),
+
+                 "Here, here was she
+     That was a whole world without spot to me,
+     Though now a world of spot."
+
+And there is something of pathetic dignity in his final forgiveness of
+his wife, coupled with the declaration that his honour demands that she
+must fly his house for ever.
+
+Monsieur and the Guise are simpler types. The former is the ambitious
+villain of quality, chafing at the thought that there is but a thread
+betwixt him and a crown, and prepared to compass his ends by any means
+that fall short of the actual killing of the King. It is as a useful
+adherent of his faction that he elevates Bussy, and when he finds him
+favoured by Henry he ruthlessly strikes him down, all the more readily
+that he is his successful rival for Tamyra's love. He is the typical
+Renaissance politician, whose characteristics are expounded with
+characteristically vituperative energy by Bussy in III, ii, 439-94.
+
+Beside this arch-villain, the Guise, aspiring and factious though he be,
+falls into a secondary place. Probably Chapman did not care to elaborate
+a figure of whom Marlowe had given so powerful a sketch in the _Massacre
+at Paris_. The influence of the early play may also be seen in the
+handling of the King, who is portrayed with an indulgent pen, and who
+reappears in the _role_ of an enthusiastic admirer of the English Queen
+and Court. The other personages in the drama are colourless, though
+Chapman succeeds in creating the general atmosphere of a frivolous and
+dissolute society.
+
+But the plot and portraiture in _Bussy D'Ambois_ are both less
+distinctive than the "full and heightened" style, to which was largely
+due its popularity with readers and theatre-goers of its period, but
+which was afterwards to bring upon it such severe censure, when taste
+had changed. Dryden's onslaught in his _Dedication to the Spanish Friar_
+(1681) marks the full turn of the tide. The passage is familiar, but it
+must be reproduced here:
+
+     "I have sometimes wondered, in the reading, what has become of
+     those glaring colours which annoyed me in _Bussy D'Ambois_
+     upon the theatre; but when I had taken up what I supposed a
+     fallen star, I found I had been cozened with a jelly; nothing
+     but a cold dull mass, which glittered no longer than it was
+     shooting; a dwarfish thought, dressed up in gigantic words,
+     repetition in abundance, looseness of expression, and gross
+     hyperboles; the sense of one line expanded prodigiously into
+     ten; and, to sum up all, uncorrect English, and a hideous
+     mingle of false poetry and true nonsense; or, at best, a
+     scantling of wit, which lay gasping for life, and groaning
+     beneath a heap of rubbish. A famous modern poet used to
+     sacrifice every year a Statius to Virgil's _manes_; and I have
+     indignation enough to burn a _D'Ambois_ annually to the memory
+     of Jonson."
+
+Dryden's critical verdicts are never lightly to be set aside. He is
+singularly shrewd and unprejudiced in his judgements, and has a
+remarkable faculty of hitting the right nail on the head. But Chapman,
+in whom the barbarian and the pedant were so strongly commingled, was a
+type that fell outside the wide range of Dryden's appreciation. The
+Restoration writer fails, in the first place, to recognize that _Bussy
+D'Ambois_ is pitched advisedly from first to last in a high key.
+Throughout the drama men and women are playing for great stakes. No one
+is ever at rest. Action and passion are both at fever heat. We move in
+an atmosphere of duels and state intrigues by day, of assignations and
+murders by night. Even the subordinate personages in the drama, the
+stewards and waiting-women, partake of the restless spirit of their
+superiors. They are constantly arguing, quarrelling, gossiping--their
+tongues and wits are always on the move. Thus Chapman aimed throughout
+at energy of expression at all costs. To this he sacrificed beauty of
+phrase and rhythm, even lucidity. He pushed it often to exaggerated
+extremes of coarseness and riotous fancy. He laid on "glaring colours"
+till eye and brain are fatigued. To this opening phrase of Dryden no
+exception can be taken. But can his further charges stand? Is it true to
+say of _Bussy D'Ambois_ that it is characterised by "dwarfish thought
+dressed up in gigantic words," that it is "a hideous mingle of false
+poetry and true nonsense"? The accusation of "nonsense" recoils upon its
+maker. Involved, obscure, inflated as Chapman's phrasing not
+infrequently is, it is not mere rhodomontade, sound, and fury,
+signifying nothing. There are some passages (as the Notes testify) where
+the thread of his meaning seems to disappear amidst his fertile imagery,
+but even here one feels not that sense is lacking, but that one has
+failed to find the clue to the zigzag movements of Chapman's brain. Nor
+is it fair to speak of Chapman as dressing up dwarfish thoughts in
+stilted phrases. There is not the slightest tendency in the play to spin
+out words to hide a poverty of ideas; in fact many of the difficulties
+spring from excessive condensation. Where Chapman is really assailable
+is in a singular incontinence of imagery. Every idea that occurs to him
+brings with it a plethora of illustrations, in the way of simile,
+metaphor, or other figure of speech; he seems impotent to check the
+exuberant riot of his fancy till it has exhausted its whole store. The
+underlying thought in many passages, though not deserving Dryden's
+contemptuous epithet, is sufficiently obvious. Chapman was not dowered
+with the penetrating imagination that reveals as by a lightning flash
+unsuspected depths of human character or of moral law. But he has the
+gnomic faculty that can convey truths of general experience in
+aphoristic form, and he can wind into a debatable moral issue with
+adroit casuistry. Take for instance the discussion (II, i, 149-79) on
+the legitimacy of private vengeance, or (III, i, 10-30) on the nature
+and effect of sin, or (V, ii) on Nature's "blindness" in her workings.
+In lighter vein, but winged with the shafts of a caustic humour are
+Bussy's invectives against courtly practices (I, i, 84-104) and
+hypocrisy in high places (III, ii, 25-59), while the "flyting" between
+him and Monsieur is perhaps the choicest specimen of Elizabethan
+"Billingsgate" that has come down to us. It was a versatile pen that
+could turn from passages like these to the epic narrative of the duel,
+or Tamyra's lyric invocation of the "peaceful regents of the night" (II,
+ii, 158), or Bussy's stately elegy upon himself, as he dies standing,
+propped on his true sword.
+
+It can only have been the ingrained prejudice of the Restoration period
+against "metaphysical" verse that deadened Dryden's ear to the charm of
+such passages as these. Another less notable poet and playwright of the
+time showed more discrimination. This was Thomas D'Urfey, who in 1691
+brought out a revised version of the play at the Theatre Royal. In a
+dedication to Lord Carlisle which he prefixed to this version, on its
+publication in the same year, he testifies to the great popularity of
+the play after the reopening of the theatres.
+
+     "About sixteen years since, when first my good or ill stars
+     ordained me a Knight Errant in this fairy land of poetry, I
+     saw the _Bussy d'Ambois_ of Mr. Chapman acted by Mr. Hart,
+     which in spight of the obsolete phrases and intolerable
+     fustian with which a great part of it was cramm'd, and which I
+     have altered in these new sheets, had some extraordinary
+     beauties, which sensibly charmed me; which being improved by
+     the graceful action of that eternally renowned and best of
+     actors, so attracted not only me, but the town in general,
+     that they were obliged to pass by and excuse the gross errors
+     in the writing, and allow it amongst the rank of the topping
+     tragedies of that time."
+
+Charles Hart, who was thus one of the long succession of actors to make
+a striking reputation in the title part, died in 1683, and, according to
+D'Urfey, "for a long time after" the play "lay buried in [his] grave."
+But "not willing to have it quite lost, I presumed to revise it and
+write the plot new." D'Urfey's main alteration was to represent Bussy
+and Tamyra as having been betrothed before the play opens, and the
+latter forced against her will into a marriage with the wealthy Count
+Montsurry. This, he maintained, palliated the heroine's surrender to
+passion and made her "distress in the last Act . . . much more liable to
+pity." Whether morality is really a gainer by this well-meant variation
+from the more primitive code of the original play is open to question,
+but we welcome the substitution of Teresia the "governess" and
+confidante of Tamyra for Friar Comolet as the envoy between the lovers.
+Another notable change is the omission of the narrative of the
+_Nuntius_, which is replaced by a short duelling scene upon the stage.
+D'Urfey rejects, too, the supernatural machinery in Act IV, and the
+details of the torture of the erring Countess, whom, at the close of the
+play, he represents not as wandering from her husband's home, but as
+stabbing herself in despair.
+
+If Chapman's plot needed to be "writ new" at all, D'Urfey deserves
+credit for having done his work with considerable skill and taste,
+though he hints in his dedication that there were detractors who did not
+view his version as favourably as Lord Carlisle. He had some difficulty,
+he tells us, in finding an actor to undertake the part, but at last
+prevailed upon Mountfort to do so, though he was diffident of appearing
+in a _role_ in which Hart had made so great a reputation. Mrs.
+Bracegirdle, as we learn from the list of _Dramatis Personae_ prefixed to
+the published edition, played Tamyra, and the revival seems to have been
+a success. But Mountfort was assassinated in the Strand towards the
+close of the following year, and apparently the career of _Bussy_ upon
+the boards ended with his life.
+
+In the same year as D'Urfey revised the play, Langbaine published his
+_Account of the English Dramatick Poets_, wherein (p. 59) he mentions
+that Bussy "has the preference" among all Chapman's writings and
+vindicates it against Dryden's attack:
+
+     "I know not how Mr. Dryden came to be so possest with
+     indignation against this play, as to resolve to burn one
+     annually to the memory of Ben Jonson: but I know very well
+     that there are some who allow it a just commendation; and
+     others that since have taken the liberty to promise a solemn
+     annual sacrifice of _The Hind and Panther_ to the memory of
+     Mr. Quarles and John Bunyan."
+
+But neither D'Urfey nor Langbaine could secure for _Bussy D'Ambois_ a
+renewal of its earlier popularity. During the eighteenth century it fell
+into complete oblivion, and though (as the Bibliography testifies)
+nineteenth-century critics and commentators have sought to atone for the
+neglect of their predecessors, the faults of the play, obvious at a
+glance, have hitherto impaired the full recognition of its distinctive
+merits of design and thought. To bring these into clearer relief, and
+trace the relation of its plot to the recorded episodes of Bussy's
+career, has been the aim of the preceding pages. It must always count to
+Chapman's credit that he, an Englishman, realized to the full the
+fascination of the brilliant Renaissance figure, who had to wait till
+the nineteenth century to be rediscovered for literary purposes by the
+greatest romance-writer among his own countrymen. In Bussy, the man of
+action, there was a Titanic strain that appealed to Chapman's
+intractable and rough-hewn genius. To the dramatist he was the classical
+Hercules born anew, accomplishing similar feats, and lured to a similar
+treacherous doom. Thus the cardinal virtue of the play is a Herculean
+energy of movement and of speech which borrows something of epic quality
+from the Homeric translations on which Chapman was simultaneously
+engaged, and thereby links _Bussy D'Ambois_ to his most triumphant
+literary achievement.
+
+Six years after the publication of the first Quarto of _Bussy D'Ambois_
+Chapman issued a sequel, _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_, which, as we
+learn from the title-page, had been "often presented at the private
+Playhouse in the White-Fryers." But in the interval he had written two
+other plays based on recent French history, _Byrons Conspiracie_ and
+_The Tragedie of Charles Duke of Byron_, and in certain aspects _The
+Revenge_ is more closely related to these immediate forerunners than to
+the piece of which it is the titular successor. The discovery which I
+recently was fortunate enough to make of a common immediate source of
+the two Byron plays and of _The Revenge_ accentuates the connection
+between them, and at the same time throws fresh light on the problem of
+the _provenance_ of the second D'Ambois drama.
+
+In his scholarly monograph _Quellen Studien zu den Dramen George
+Chapmans, Massingers, und Fords_ (1897), E. Koeppel showed that the
+three connected plays were based upon materials taken from Jean de
+Serres's _Inventaire General de l'Histoire de France_ (1603), Pierre
+Matthieu's _Histoire de France durant Sept Annees de Paix du Regne de
+Henri IV_ (1605), and P. V. Cayet's _Chronologie Septenaire de
+l'Histoire de la Paix entre les Roys de France et d'Espagne_ (1605).
+The picture suggested by Koeppel's treatise was of Chapman collating a
+number of contemporary French historical works, and choosing from each
+of them such portions as suited his dramatic purposes. But this
+conception, as I have shown in the _Athenaeum_ for Jan. 10, 1903, p. 51,
+must now be abandoned. Chapman did not go to the French originals at
+all, but to a more easily accessible source, wherein the task of
+selection and rearrangement had already been in large measure performed.
+In 1607 the printer, George Eld, published a handsome folio, of which
+the British Museum possesses a fine copy (c. 66, b. 14), originally the
+property of Prince Henry, eldest son of James I. Its title is: "_A
+General Inventorie of the Historie of France, from the beginning of that
+Monarchie, unto the Treatie of Vervins, in the Yeare 1598. Written by
+Jhon de Serres. And continued unto these Times, out of the best Authors
+which have written of that Subiect. Translated out of French into
+English by Edward Grimeston, Gentleman._" This work, the popularity of
+which is attested by the publication of a second, enlarged, edition in
+1611, was the direct source of the "Byron" plays, and of _The Revenge_.
+
+In a dedication addressed to the Earls of Suffolk and Salisbury,
+Grimeston states that having retired to "private and domesticke cares"
+after "some years expence in France, for the publike service of the
+State," he has translated "this generall Historie of France written by
+John de Serres." In a preface "to the Reader" he makes the further
+important statement:
+
+     "The History of John de Serres ends with the Treatie at
+     Vervins betwixt France and Spaine in the yeare 1598. I have
+     been importuned to make the History perfect, and to continue
+     it unto these times, whereunto I have added (for your better
+     satisfaction) what I could extract out of Peter Mathew and
+     other late writers touching this subject. Some perchance will
+     challenge me of indiscretion, that I have not translated Peter
+     Mathew onely, being reputed so eloquent and learned a Writer.
+     To them I answere first, that I found many things written by
+     him that were not fit to be inserted, and some things
+     belonging unto the Historie, related by others, whereof he
+     makes no mention. Secondly his style is so full and his
+     discourse so copious, as the worke would have held no
+     proportion, for that this last addition of seven years must
+     have exceeded halfe Serres Historie. Which considerations have
+     made me to draw forth what I thought most materiall for the
+     subject, and to leave the rest as unnecessarie."
+
+From this we learn that Grimeston followed Jean de Serres till 1598, and
+that from then till 1604 (his time-limit in his first edition) his
+principal source was P. Matthieu's _Histoire de France_, rigorously
+condensed, and, at the same time, supplemented from other authorities. A
+collation of Grimeston's text with that of the "Byron" plays and _The
+Revenge_ proves that every passage in which the dramatist draws upon
+historical materials is to be found within the four corners of the folio
+of 1607. The most striking illustrations of this are to be found in the
+"Byron" plays, and I have shown elsewhere (_Athenaeum_, _loc. cit._) that
+though Chapman in handling the career of the ill-fated Marshal of France
+is apparently exploiting Pierre Matthieu, Jean de Serres, and Cayet in
+turn, he is really taking advantage of the labours of Grimeston, who had
+rifled their stores for his skilful historical mosaic. Grimeston must
+thus henceforward be recognized as holding something of the same
+relation to Chapman as Sir T. North does to Shakespeare, with the
+distinction that he not only provides the raw material of historical
+tragedy, but goes some way in the refining process.
+
+_The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ follows historical lines less closely
+than the "Byron" plays, but here, too, Grimeston's volume was Chapman's
+inspiring source, and the perusal of its closing pages gives a clue to
+the origin of this most singular of the dramatist's serious plays. The
+final episode included in the folio of 1607 was the plot by which the
+Count d'Auvergne, who had been one of Byron's fellow conspirators, and
+who had fallen under suspicion for a second time in 1604, was
+treacherously arrested by agents of the King while attending a review of
+troops. The position of this narrative (translated from P. Matthieu) at
+the close of the folio must have helped to draw Chapman's special
+attention to it, and having expended his genius so liberally on the
+career of the arch-conspirator of the period, he was apparently moved to
+handle also that of his interesting confederate. But D'Auvergne's
+fortunes scarcely furnished the stuff for a complete drama, on Chapman's
+customary broad scale, and he seems therefore to have conceived the
+ingenious idea of utilising them as the groundwork of a sequel to his
+most popular play, _Bussy D'Ambois_.
+
+He transformed the Count into an imaginary brother of his former hero.
+For though D'Ambois had two younger brothers, Hubert, seigneur de
+Moigneville, and Georges, baron de Bussy, it is highly improbable that
+Chapman had ever heard of them, and there was nothing in the career of
+either to suggest the figure of Clermont D'Ambois. The name given by
+Chapman to this unhistorical addition to the family was, I believe, due
+to a mere chance, if not a misunderstanding. In Grimeston's narrative of
+the plot against D'Auvergne he mentions that one of the King's agents,
+D'Eurre, "came to Clermont on Monday at night, and goes unto him
+[D'Auvergne] where he supped." Here the name Clermont denotes, of
+course, a place. But Chapman may have possibly misconceived it to refer
+to the Count, and, in any case, its occurrence in this context probably
+suggested its bestowal upon the hero of the second D'Ambois play.
+
+A later passage in Grimeston's history gives an interesting glimpse of
+D'Auvergne's character. We are told that after he had been arrested, and
+was being conducted to Paris, "all the way he seemed no more afflicted,
+then when he was at libertie. He tould youthfull and idle tales of his
+love, and the deceiving of ladies. Hee shott in a harquebuse at birds,
+wherein hee was so perfect and excellent, as hee did kill larkes as they
+were flying."
+
+From this hint of a personality serenely proof against the shocks of
+adversity Chapman elaborated the figure of the "Senecall man," Clermont
+D'Ambois. In developing his conception he drew, however, not primarily,
+as this phrase suggests, from the writings of the Roman senator and
+sage, but from those of the lowlier, though not less authoritative
+exponent of Stoic doctrine, the enfranchised slave, Epictetus. As is
+shown, for the first time, in the Notes to this edition, the
+_Discourses_ of "the grave Greek moralist," known probably through a
+Latin version (cf. II, i, 157), must have been almost as close to
+Chapman's hand while he was writing _The Revenge_ as Grimeston's
+compilation. Five long passages in the play (I, i, 336-42, II, i,
+157-60, II, i, 211-32, III, iv, 58-75, and III, iv, 127-41) are
+translated or adapted from specific _dicta_ in the _Discourses_, while
+Epictetus's work in its whole ethical teaching furnished material for
+the delineation of the ideal Stoic (IV, iv, 14-46) who
+
+         "May with heavens immortall powers compare,
+     To whom the day and fortune equall are;
+     Come faire or foule, what ever chance can fall,
+     Fixt in himselfe, hee still is one to all."
+
+But in the character of Clermont there mingle other elements than those
+derived from either the historical figure of D'Auvergne, or the ideal
+man of Stoic speculation. Had Hamlet never faltered in the task of
+executing justice upon the murderer of his father, it is doubtful if a
+brother of Bussy would ever have trod the Jacobean stage. Not indeed
+that the idea of vengeance being sought for D'Ambois's fate by one of
+his nearest kith and kin was without basis in fact. But it was a sister,
+not a brother, who had devoted her own and her husband's energies to the
+task, though finally the matter had been compromised. De Thou, at the
+close of his account of Bussy's murder, relates (vol. III, lib. LXVII,
+p. 330):
+
+     "_Inde odia capitalia inter Bussianos et Monsorellum exorta:
+     quorum exercendorum onus in se suscepit Joannes Monlucius
+     Balagnius, . . . ducta in matrimonium occisi Bussii sorore,
+     magni animi foemina quae faces irae maritali subjiciebat:
+     vixque post novennium certis conditionibus jussu regis inter
+     eum et Monsorellum transactum fuit._"[xxxvii-1]
+
+In a later passage (vol. V, lib. CXVIII, p. 558) he is even more
+explicit. After referring to Bussy's treacherous assassination, he
+continues:
+
+     "_Quam injuriam Renata ejus soror, generosa foemina et supra
+     sexum ambitiosa, a fratre proximisque neglectam, cum inultam
+     manere impatientissime ferret, Balagnio se ultorem profitente,
+     spretis suorum monitis in matrimonium cum ipso
+     consensit._"[xxxvii-2]
+
+As these passages first appeared in De Thou's History in the edition of
+1620, they cannot have been known to Chapman, when he was writing _The
+Revenge_. But the circumstances must have been familiar to him from some
+other source, probably that which supplied the material for the earlier
+play. He accordingly introduces Renee D'Ambois (whom he rechristens
+Charlotte) with her husband into his drama, but with great skill he
+makes her fiery passion for revenge at all costs a foil to the
+scrupulous and deliberate procedure of the high-souled Clermont. Like
+Hamlet, the latter has been commissioned by the ghost of his murdered
+kinsman to the execution of a task alien to his nature.
+
+Though he sends a challenge to Montsurry, and is not lacking in "the
+D'Ambois spirit," the atmosphere in which he lingers with whole-hearted
+zest is that of the philosophical schools. He is eager to draw every
+chance comer into debate on the first principles of action. Absorbed in
+speculation, he is indifferent to external circumstances. As Hamlet at
+the crisis of his fate lets himself be shipped off to England, so
+Clermont makes no demur when the King, who suspects him of complicity
+with Guise's traitorous designs, sends him to Cambray, of which his
+brother-in-law, Baligny, has been appointed Lieutenant. When on his
+arrival, his sister, the Lieutenant's wife, upbraids him with
+"lingering" their "dear brother's wreak," he makes the confession (III,
+ii, 112-15):
+
+                         "I repent that ever
+     (By any instigation in th'appearance
+     My brothers spirit made, as I imagin'd)
+     That e'er I yeelded to revenge his murther."
+
+Like Hamlet, too, Clermont, "generous and free from all contriving," is
+slow to suspect evil in others, and though warned by an anonymous
+letter--here Chapman draws the incidents from the story of Count
+D'Auvergne--he lets himself be entrapped at a "muster" or review of
+troops by the King's emissaries. But the intervention of Guise soon
+procures his release. In the dialogue that follows between him and his
+patron the influence of Shakespeare's tragedy is unmistakably patent.
+The latter is confiding to Clermont his apprehensions for the future,
+when the ghost of Bussy appears, and chides his brother for his delay in
+righting his wrongs. That the _Umbra_ of the elder D'Ambois is here
+merely emulating the attitude of the elder Hamlet's spirit would be
+sufficiently obvious, even if it were not put beyond doubt by the
+excited dialogue between Guise, to whom the Ghost is invisible, and
+Clermont, which is almost a verbal echo of the parallel dialogue between
+the Danish Prince and the Queen. This second visitation from the unseen
+world at last stirs up Clermont to execute the long-delayed vengeance
+upon Montsurry, though he is all but forestalled by Charlotte, who has
+donned masculine disguise for the purpose. But hard upon the deed comes
+the news of Guise's assassination, and impatient of the earthly barriers
+that now sever him from his "lord," Clermont takes his own life in the
+approved Stoic fashion. So passes from the scene one of the most
+original and engaging figures in our dramatic literature, and the more
+thorough our analysis of the curiously diverse elements out of which he
+has been fashioned, the higher will be our estimate of Chapman's
+creative power.
+
+Was it primarily with the motive of providing Clermont with a plausible
+excuse for suicide that Chapman so startlingly transformed the
+personality of Henry of Guise? The Duke as he appears in _The Revenge_
+has scarcely a feature in common either with the Guise of history or of
+the earlier play. Instead of the turbulent and intriguing noble we see a
+"true tenth worthy," who realizes that without accompanying virtues
+"greatness is a shade, a bubble," and who drinks in from the lips of
+Clermont doctrines "of stability and freedom." To such an extent does
+Chapman turn apologist for Guise that in a well-known passage (II, i,
+205 ff.) he goes out of his way to declare that the Massacre of St.
+Bartholomew was "hainous" only "to a brutish sense, But not a manly
+reason," and to argue that the blame lay not with "religious Guise," but
+with those who had played false to "faith and true religion." So
+astonishing is the dramatist's change of front that, but for the
+complete lack of substantiating evidence, one would infer that, like
+Dryden in the interval between _Religio Laici_ and _The Hind and
+Panther_, he had joined the Church of Rome. In any case the change is
+not due to the influence of Grimeston's volume, whence Chapman draws his
+material for the account of Guise's last days. For Jean de Serres (whom
+the Englishman is here translating) sums up the Duke's character in an
+"appreciation," where virtues and faults are impartially balanced and
+the latter are in no wise extenuated. It is another tribute to Chapman's
+skill, which only close study of the play in relation to its source
+brings out, that while he borrows, even to the most minute particulars,
+from the annalist, he throws round the closing episodes of Guise's
+career a halo of political martyrdom which there is nothing in the
+original to suggest. This metamorphosis of Guise is all the more
+remarkable, because Monsieur, his former co-partner in villany,
+reappears, in the one scene where he figures, in the same ribald,
+blustering vein as before, and his death is reported, at the close of
+Act IV, as a fulfilment of Bussy's dying curse.
+
+While Guise is transfigured, and Monsieur remains his truculent,
+vainglorious self, Montsurry has suffered a strange degeneration. It is
+sufficiently remarkable, to begin with, after his declaration at the
+end of _Bussy D'Ambois_,
+
+     "May both points of heavens strait axeltree
+     Conjoyne in one, before thy selfe and me!"
+
+to find him ready to receive back Tamyra as his wife, though her sole
+motive in rejoining him is to precipitate vengeance on his head. Nor had
+anything in the earlier play prepared us for the spectacle of him as a
+poltroon, who has "barricado'd" himself in his house to avoid a
+challenge, and who shrieks "murther!" at the entrance of an unexpected
+visitor. In the light of such conduct it is difficult to regard as
+merely assumed his pusillanimity in the final scene, where he at first
+grovels before Clermont on the plea that by his baseness he will "shame"
+the avenger's victory. And when he does finally nerve himself to the
+encounter, and dies with words of forgiveness for Clermont and Tamyra on
+his lips, the episode of reconciliation, though evidently intended to be
+edifying, is so huddled and inconsecutive as to be well-nigh ridiculous.
+
+Equally ineffective and incongruous are the moralising discourses of
+which Bussy's ghost is made the spokesman. It does not seem to have
+occurred to Chapman that vindications of divine justice, suitable on the
+lips of the elder Hamlet, fell with singular infelicity from one who had
+met his doom in the course of a midnight intrigue. In fact, wherever the
+dramatist reintroduces the main figures of the earlier play, he falls to
+an inferior level. He seems unable to revivify its nobler elements, and
+merely repeats the more melodramatic and garish effects which refuse to
+blend with the classic grace and pathos of Clermont's story. The
+audiences before whom _The Revenge_ was produced evidently showed
+themselves ill-affected towards such a medley of purely fictitious
+creations, and of historical personages and incidents, treated in the
+most arbitrary fashion. For Chapman in his dedicatory letter to Sir
+Thomas Howard refers bitterly to the "maligners" with whom the play met
+"in the scenicall presentation," and asks who will expect "the
+autenticall truth of eyther person or action . . . in a poeme, whose
+subject is not truth, but things like truth?" He forgets that "things
+like truth" are not attained, when alien elements are forced into
+mechanical union, or when well-known historical characters and events
+are presented under radically false colours. But we who read the drama
+after an interval of three centuries can afford to be less perturbed
+than Jacobean playgoers at its audacious juggling with facts, provided
+that it appeals to us in other ways. We are not likely indeed to adopt
+Chapman's view that the elements that give it enduring value are
+"materiall instruction, elegant and sententious excitation to vertue,
+and deflection from her contrary." For these we shall assuredly look
+elsewhere; it is not to them that _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ owes
+its distinctive charm. The secret of that charm lies outside the spheres
+of "autenticall truth," moral as well as historical. It consists, as it
+seems to me, essentially in this--that the play is one of the most truly
+spontaneous products of English "humanism" in its later phase. The same
+passionate impulse--in itself so curiously "romantic"--to revitalise
+classical life and ideals, which prompted Chapman's translation of
+"Homer, Prince of Poets," is the shaping spirit of this singular
+tragedy. Its hero, as we have seen, has strayed into the France of the
+Catholic Reaction from some academe in Athens or in imperial Rome. He
+is, in truth, far more really a spirit risen from the dead than the
+materialised _Umbra_ of his brother. His pervasive influence works in
+all around him, so that nobles and courtiers forget for a time the
+strife of faction while they linger over some fragrant memory of the
+older world. Epictetus with his doctrines of how to live and how to die;
+the "grave Greeke tragedian" who drew "the princesse, sweet Antigone";
+Homer with his "unmatched poem"; the orators Demetrius Phalerius and
+Demades--these and their like cast a spell over the scene, and transport
+us out of the troubled atmosphere of sixteenth-century vendetta into the
+"ampler aether," the "diviner air," of "the glory that was Greece, the
+grandeur that was Rome."
+
+Thus the two _Bussy_ plays, when critically examined, are seen to be
+essentially unlike in spite of their external similarity. The plot of
+the one springs from that of the other; both are laid in the same period
+and _milieu_; in technique they are closely akin. The diction and
+imagery are, indeed, simpler, and the verse is of more liquid cadence in
+_The Revenge_ than in _Bussy D'Ambois_. But the true difference lies
+deeper,--in the innermost spirit of the two dramas. _Bussy D'Ambois_ is
+begotten of "the very torrent, tempest, and whirlwind" of passion; it
+throbs with the stress of an over-tumultuous life. _The Revenge_ is the
+offspring of the meditative impulse, that averts its gaze from the
+outward pageant of existence, to peer into the secrets of Man's ultimate
+destiny, and his relation to the "Universal," of which he involuntarily
+finds himself a part.
+
+                                                 FREDERICK S. BOAS.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[xii-1] Through the kindness of Professor Baker I have seen an
+unpublished paper of Mr. P. C. Hoyt, Instructor in Harvard University,
+which first calls attention to the combined suggestiveness of three
+entries in _Henslowe's Diary_ (Collier's ed.) for any discussion of the
+date of _Bussy D'Ambois_. In Henslowe's "Enventorey of all the aparell
+of the Lord Admirals men, taken the 13th of Marcher 1598," is an item,
+"Perowes sewt, which Wm Sley were." (_Henslowe's Diary_, ed. Collier, p.
+275.) In no extant play save _Bussy D'Ambois_ is a character called Pero
+introduced. Moreover, Henslowe (pp. 113 and 110) has the following
+entries: "Lent unto Wm Borne, the 19 of novembr 1598 . . . the some of
+xijs, wch he sayd yt was to Imbrader his hatte for the Gwisse. Lent Wm
+Birde, ales Borne, the 27 of novembr, to bye a payer of sylke stockens,
+to playe the Gwisse in xxs." Taken by themselves these two allusions to
+the "Gwisse" might refer, as Collier supposed, to Marlowe's _The
+Massacre at Paris_. But when combined with the mention of Pero earlier
+in the year, they may equally well refer to the Guise in _Bussy
+D'Ambois_. Can _Bussy D'Ambois_ have been the unnamed "tragedie" by
+Chapman, for the first three Acts of which Henslowe lent him iijli on
+Jan. 4, 1598, followed by a similar sum on Jan. 8th, "in fulle payment
+for his tragedie?" The words which Dekker quotes in _Satiromastix_, Sc 7
+(1602), "For trusty D'Amboys now the deed is done," seem to be a line
+from a play introducing D'Ambois. If, however, the play was written
+circa 1598, it must have been considerably revised after the accession
+of James I to the throne, for the allusions to Elizabeth as an "old
+Queene" (1, 2, 12), and to Bussy as being mistaken for "a knight of the
+new edition," must have been written after the accession of James I
+(_Chronicle of the English Drama_, 1, 59). But Mr Fleay's further
+statement that the words, "Tis leape yeere" (1, 2, 85), "must apply to
+the date of production," and "fix the time of representation to 1604,"
+is only an ingenious conjecture. If the words "Ile be your ghost to
+haunt you," etc (1, 2, 243-244), refer to _Macbeth_, as I have suggested
+in the note on the passage, they point to a revision of the play not
+earlier than the latter part of 1606.
+
+[xxxvii-1] "Hence a deadly feud arose between the kin of Bussy and
+Montsurry. The task of carrying this into action was undertaken by Jean
+Montluc Baligny, who had married the murdered man's sister, a
+high-spirited woman who fanned the flame of her husband's wrath. With
+difficulty, after a period of nine years, was an arrangement come to
+between him and Montsurry on specified terms by the order of the King."
+
+[xxxvii-2] "Renee, his sister, a high-souled woman, and of aspirations
+loftier than those of her sex, brooked it very ill that this injury, of
+which his brother and nearest kin took no heed, should remain unavenged.
+When, therefore, Baligny profferred himself as an avenger, she agreed to
+marry him, in defiance of the admonitions of her family."
+
+
+
+
+THE TEXT
+
+
+_Bussy D'Ambois_ was first printed in quarto in 1607 by W. Aspley, and
+was reissued in 1608. In 1641, seven years after Chapman's death, Robert
+Lunne published another edition in quarto of the play, which, according
+to the title-page, was "much corrected and amended by the Author before
+his death." This quarto differs essentially from its predecessors. It
+omits and adds numerous passages, and makes constant minor changes in
+the text. The revised version is not appreciably superior to the
+original draft, but, on the evidence of the title-page, it must be
+accepted as authoritative. It was reissued by Lunne, with a different
+imprint, in 1646, and by J. Kirton, with a new title-page, in 1657.
+Copies of the 1641 quarto differ in unimportant details such as
+_articular_, _articulat_, for evidently some errors were corrected as
+the edition passed through the press. Some copies of the 1646 quarto
+duplicate the uncorrected copies of the 1641 quarto.
+
+In a reprint of Chapman's Tragedies and Comedies, published by J.
+Pearson in 1873, the anonymous editor purported to "follow mainly" the
+text of 1641, but collation with the originals shows that he transcribed
+that of 1607, substituting the later version where the two quartos
+differed, but retaining elsewhere the spelling of the earlier one. Nor
+is his list of variants complete. There have been also three editions of
+the play in modernized spelling by C. W. Dilke in 1814, R. H. Shepherd
+in 1874, and W. L. Phelps in 1895, particulars of which are given in the
+Bibliography. The present edition is therefore the first to reproduce
+the authoritative text unimpaired. The original spelling has been
+retained, though capitalization has been modernized, and the use of
+italics for personal names has not been preserved. But the chaotic
+punctuation has been throughout revised, though, except to remove
+ambiguity, I have not interfered with one distinctive feature, an
+exceptionally frequent use of brackets. In a few cases of doubtful
+interpretation, the old punctuation has been given in the footnotes.
+
+Dilke, though the earliest of the annotators, contributed most to the
+elucidation of allusions and obsolete phrases. While seeking to
+supplement his and his successors' labours in this direction, I have
+also attempted a more perilous task--the interpretation of passages
+where the difficulty arises from the peculiar texture of Chapman's
+thought and style. Such a critical venture seems a necessary preliminary
+if we are ever to sift truth from falsehood in Dryden's
+indictment--indolently accepted by many critics as conclusive--of _Bussy
+D'Ambois_.
+
+The group of quartos of 1641, 1646, and 1657, containing Chapman's
+revised text, is denoted by the symbol "B"; those of 1607 and 1608 by
+"A." In the footnotes all the variants contained in A are given except
+in a few cases where the reading of A has been adopted in the text and
+that of B recorded as a variant. I have preferred the reading of A to B,
+when it gives an obviously better sense, or is metrically superior. I
+have also included in the Text fifty lines at the beginning of Act II,
+Scene 2, which are found only in A. Some slight conjectural emendations
+have been attempted which are distinguished by "emend. ed." in the
+footnotes. In these cases the reading of the quartos, if unanimous, is
+denoted by "Qq."
+
+In the quartos the play is simply divided into five Acts. These I have
+subdivided into Scenes, within which the lines have been numbered to
+facilitate reference. The stage directions in B are numerous and
+precise, and I have made only a few additions, which are enclosed in
+brackets. The quartos vary between _Bussy_ and _D'Ambois_, and between
+_Behemoth_ and _Spiritus_, as a prefix to speeches. I have kept to the
+former throughout in either case.
+
+                                                           F. S. B.
+
+
+
+
+Bussy D'Ambois:
+
+A
+TRAGEDIE:
+
+As it hath been often Acted with
+great Applause.
+
+_Being much corrected and amended
+by the Author before his death._
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+_LONDON:_
+Printed by _A. N._ for _Robert Lunne_.
+1641.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCES
+
+
+The immediate source of the play has not been identified, but in the
+_Introduction_ attention has been drawn to passages in the writings of
+Bussy's contemporaries, especially Brantome and Marguerite de Valois,
+which narrate episodes similar to those in the earlier Acts. Extracts
+from De Thou's _Historiae sui temporis_ and Rosset's _Histoires
+Tragiques_, which tell the tale of Bussy's amorous intrigue and his
+assassination, have also been reprinted as an Appendix. But both these
+narratives are later than the play. Seneca's representation in the
+_Hercules Oetaeus_ of the Greek hero's destruction by treachery gave
+Chapman suggestions for his treatment of the final episode in Bussy's
+career (cf. V, 4, 100-108, and note).
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+  _Not out of confidence that none but wee
+  Are able to present this tragedie,
+  Nor out of envie at the grace of late
+  It did receive, nor yet to derogate
+  From their deserts, who give out boldly that                         5
+  They move with equall feet on the same flat;
+  Neither for all, nor any of such ends,
+  We offer it, gracious and noble friends,
+  To your review; wee, farre from emulation,
+  And (charitably judge) from imitation,                              10
+  With this work entertaine you, a peece knowne,
+  And still beleev'd, in Court to be our owne.
+  To quit our claime, doubting our right or merit,
+  Would argue in us poverty of spirit
+  Which we must not subscribe to: Field is gone,                      15
+  Whose action first did give it name, and one
+  Who came the neerest to him, is denide
+  By his gray beard to shew the height and pride
+  Of D'Ambois youth and braverie; yet to hold
+  Our title still a foot, and not grow cold                           20
+  By giving it o're, a third man with his best
+  Of care and paines defends our interest;
+  As Richard he was lik'd, nor doe wee feare,
+  In personating D'Ambois, hee'le appeare
+  To faint, or goe lesse, so your free consent,                       25
+  As heretofore, give him encouragement._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Prologue._ The Prologue does not appear in A.
+
+          10  (_charitably judge_). So punctuated by ed. B has:--
+
+              _To your review, we farre from emulation
+              (And charitably judge from imitation)
+              With this work entertaine you, a peece knowne
+              And still beleev'd in Court to be our owne,
+              To quit our claime, doubting our right or merit,
+              Would argue in us poverty of spirit
+              Which we must not subscribe to._
+
+          13  _doubting_. In some copies of B this is misprinted
+              _oubting_.
+
+
+
+
+[DRAMATIS PERSONAE.[4:1]
+
+
+  HENRY III, King of France.
+  MONSIEUR, his brother.
+  THE DUKE OF GUISE.
+  MONTSURRY, a Count.
+  BUSSY D'AMBOIS.
+  BARRISOR, }
+  L'ANOU,   } Courtiers: enemies of D'AMBOIS.
+  PYRHOT,   }
+  BRISAC,     }
+  MELYNELL,   } Courtiers: friends of D'AMBOIS.
+  COMOLET, a Friar.
+  MAFFE, steward to MONSIEUR.
+  NUNCIUS.
+  MURDERERS.
+
+  BEHEMOTH,    }
+  CARTOPHYLAX, } Spirits.
+  UMBRA OF FRIAR.
+
+  ELENOR, Duchess of Guise.
+  TAMYRA, Countess of Montsurry.
+  BEAUPRE, niece to ELENOR.
+  ANNABLE, maid to ELENOR.
+  PERO, maid to TAMYRA.
+  CHARLOTTE, maid to BEAUPRE.
+  PYRA, a court lady.
+  Courtiers, Ladies, Pages, Servants, Spirits, &c.
+
+SCENE.--Paris[4:2]]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[4:1] The Quartos contain no list of _Dramatis Personae_. One is however
+prefixed to D'Urfey's version (1691), with the names of the performers
+added. C. W. Dilke prefixed a somewhat imperfect one to his edition in
+vol. III of _Old English Plays_ (1814). W. L. Phelps, who did not know
+of Dilke's list, supplied a more correct one in his edition in the
+_Mermaid Series_ (1895). The subjoined list adds some fresh details,
+especially concerning the subordinate characters.
+
+[4:2] Many episodes in Bussy D'Ambois's career, which took place in the
+Province of Anjou, are transferred in the play to Paris.
+
+
+
+
+Bussy D'Ambois
+
+A
+Tragedie
+
+
+  ACTUS PRIMI SCENA PRIMA.
+
+  [_A glade, near the Court._]
+
+
+          _Enter Bussy D'Ambois poore._
+
+  [_Bussy._] Fortune, not Reason, rules the state of things,
+  Reward goes backwards, Honor on his head,
+  Who is not poore is monstrous; only Need
+  Gives forme and worth to every humane seed.
+  As cedars beaten with continuall stormes,                            5
+  So great men flourish; and doe imitate
+  Unskilfull statuaries, who suppose
+  (In forming a Colossus) if they make him
+  Stroddle enough, stroot, and look bigg, and gape,
+  Their work is goodly: so men meerely great                          10
+  In their affected gravity of voice,
+  Sowrnesse of countenance, manners cruelty,
+  Authority, wealth, and all the spawne of Fortune,
+  Think they beare all the Kingdomes worth before them;
+  Yet differ not from those colossick statues,                        15
+  Which, with heroique formes without o're-spread,
+  Within are nought but morter, flint and lead.
+  Man is a torch borne in the winde; a dreame
+  But of a shadow, summ'd with all his substance;
+  And as great seamen using all their wealth                          20
+  And skills in Neptunes deepe invisible pathes,
+  In tall ships richly built and ribd with brasse,
+  To put a girdle round about the world,
+  When they have done it (comming neere their haven)
+  Are faine to give a warning peece, and call                         25
+  A poore staid fisher-man, that never past
+  His countries sight, to waft and guide them in:
+  So when we wander furthest through the waves
+  Of glassie Glory, and the gulfes of State,
+  Topt with all titles, spreading all our reaches,                    30
+  As if each private arme would sphere the earth,
+  Wee must to vertue for her guide resort,
+  Or wee shall shipwrack in our safest port.           _Procumbit._
+
+          [_Enter_] _Monsieur with two Pages._
+
+  [_Monsieur._] There is no second place in numerous state
+  That holds more than a cypher: in a King                            35
+  All places are contain'd. His words and looks
+  Are like the flashes and the bolts of Jove;
+  His deeds inimitable, like the sea
+  That shuts still as it opes, and leaves no tracts,
+  Nor prints of president for meane mens facts:                       40
+  There's but a thred betwixt me and a crowne;
+  I would not wish it cut, unlesse by nature;
+  Yet to prepare me for that possible fortune,
+  'Tis good to get resolved spirits about mee.
+  I follow'd D'Ambois to this greene retreat;                         45
+  A man of spirit beyond the reach of feare,
+  Who (discontent with his neglected worth)
+  Neglects the light, and loves obscure abodes;
+  But hee is young and haughty, apt to take
+  Fire at advancement, to beare state, and flourish;                  50
+  In his rise therefore shall my bounties shine:
+  None lothes the world so much, nor loves to scoffe it,
+  But gold and grace will make him surfet of it.
+  What, D'Ambois!--
+
+  _Buss._           He, sir.
+
+  _Mons._                    Turn'd to earth, alive!
+  Up man, the sunne shines on thee.
+
+  _Buss._                           Let it shine:                     55
+  I am no mote to play in't, as great men are.
+
+  _Mons._ Callest thou men great in state, motes in the sunne?
+  They say so that would have thee freeze in shades,
+  That (like the grosse Sicilian gurmundist)
+  Empty their noses in the cates they love,                           60
+  That none may eat but they. Do thou but bring
+  Light to the banquet Fortune sets before thee
+  And thou wilt loath leane darknesse like thy death.
+  Who would beleeve thy mettall could let sloth
+  Rust and consume it? If Themistocles                                65
+  Had liv'd obscur'd thus in th'Athenian State,
+  Xerxes had made both him and it his slaves.
+  If brave Camillus had lurckt so in Rome,
+  He had not five times beene Dictator there,
+  Nor foure times triumpht. If Epaminondas                            70
+  (Who liv'd twice twenty yeeres obscur'd in Thebs)
+  Had liv'd so still, he had beene still unnam'd,
+  And paid his country nor himselfe their right:
+  But putting forth his strength he rescu'd both
+  From imminent ruine; and, like burnisht steele,                     75
+  After long use he shin'd; for as the light
+  Not only serves to shew, but render us
+  Mutually profitable, so our lives
+  In acts exemplarie not only winne
+  Our selves good names, but doe to others give                       80
+  Matter for vertuous deeds, by which wee live.
+
+  _Buss._ What would you wish me?
+
+  _Mons._                         Leave the troubled streames,
+  And live where thrivers doe, at the well head.
+
+  _Buss._ At the well head? Alas! what should I doe
+  With that enchanted glasse? See devils there?                       85
+  Or (like a strumpet) learne to set my looks
+  In an eternall brake, or practise jugling,
+  To keep my face still fast, my heart still loose;
+  Or beare (like dames schoolmistresses their riddles)
+  Two tongues, and be good only for a shift;                          90
+  Flatter great lords, to put them still in minde
+  Why they were made lords; or please humorous ladies
+  With a good carriage, tell them idle tales,
+  To make their physick work; spend a man's life
+  In sights and visitations, that will make                           95
+  His eyes as hollow as his mistresse heart:
+  To doe none good, but those that have no need;
+  To gaine being forward, though you break for haste
+  All the commandements ere you break your fast;
+  But beleeve backwards, make your period                            100
+  And creeds last article, "I beleeve in God":
+  And (hearing villanies preacht) t'unfold their art,
+  Learne to commit them? Tis a great mans part.
+  Shall I learne this there?
+
+  _Mons._                    No, thou needst not learne;
+  Thou hast the theorie; now goe there and practise.                 105
+
+  _Buss._ I, in a thrid-bare suit; when men come there,
+  They must have high naps, and goe from thence bare:
+  A man may drowne the parts of ten rich men
+  In one poore suit; brave barks, and outward glosse
+  Attract Court loves, be in parts ne're so grosse.                  110
+
+  _Mons._ Thou shalt have glosse enough, and all things fit
+  T'enchase in all shew thy long smothered spirit:
+  Be rul'd by me then. The old Scythians
+  Painted blinde Fortunes powerfull hands with wings,
+  To shew her gifts come swift and suddenly,                         115
+  Which if her favorite be not swift to take,
+  He loses them for ever. Then be wise;
+
+          _Exit Mon[sieur] with Pages. Manet Buss[y]._
+
+  Stay but a while here, and I'le send to thee.
+
+  _Buss._ What will he send? some crowns? It is to sow them
+  Upon my spirit, and make them spring a crowne                      120
+  Worth millions of the seed crownes he will send.
+  Like to disparking noble husbandmen,
+  Hee'll put his plow into me, plow me up;
+  But his unsweating thrift is policie,
+  And learning-hating policie is ignorant                            125
+  To fit his seed-land soyl; a smooth plain ground
+  Will never nourish any politick seed.
+  I am for honest actions, not for great:
+  If I may bring up a new fashion,
+  And rise in Court for vertue, speed his plow!                      130
+  The King hath knowne me long as well as hee,
+  Yet could my fortune never fit the length
+  Of both their understandings till this houre.
+  There is a deepe nicke in Times restlesse wheele
+  For each mans good, when which nicke comes, it strikes;            135
+  As rhetorick yet workes not perswasion,
+  But only is a meane to make it worke:
+  So no man riseth by his reall merit,
+  But when it cries "clincke" in his raisers spirit.
+  Many will say, that cannot rise at all,                            140
+  Mans first houres rise is first step to his fall.
+  I'le venture that; men that fall low must die,
+  As well as men cast headlong from the skie.
+
+          _Ent[er] Maffe._
+
+  [_Maffe._] Humor of Princes! Is this wretch indu'd
+  With any merit worth a thousand crownes?                           145
+  Will my lord have me be so ill a steward
+  Of his revenue, to dispose a summe
+  So great, with so small cause as shewes in him?
+  I must examine this. Is your name D'Ambois?
+
+  _Buss._ Sir?
+
+  _Maff._      Is your name D'Ambois?
+
+  _Buss._                             Who have we here?              150
+  Serve you the Monsieur?
+
+  _Maff._                 How?
+
+  _Buss._                      Serve you the Monsieur?
+
+  _Maff._ Sir, y'are very hot. I doe serve the Monsieur;
+  But in such place as gives me the command
+  Of all his other servants: and because
+  His Graces pleasure is to give your good                           155
+  His passe through my command, me thinks you might
+  Use me with more respect.
+
+  _Buss._                   Crie you mercy!
+  Now you have opened my dull eies, I see you,
+  And would be glad to see the good you speake of:
+  What might I call your name?
+
+  _Maff._                      Monsieur Maffe.                       160
+
+  _Buss._ Monsieur Maffe? Then, good Monsieur Maffe,
+  Pray let me know you better.
+
+  _Maff._                      Pray doe so,
+  That you may use me better. For your selfe,
+  By your no better outside, I would judge you
+  To be some poet. Have you given my lord                            165
+  Some pamphlet?
+
+  _Buss._        Pamphlet!
+
+  _Maff._                  Pamphlet, sir, I say.
+
+  _Buss._ Did your great masters goodnesse leave the good,
+  That is to passe your charge to my poore use,
+  To your discretion?
+
+  _Maff._             Though he did not, sir,
+  I hope 'tis no rude office to aske reason                          170
+  How that his Grace gives me in charge, goes from me?
+
+  _Buss._ That's very perfect, sir.
+
+  _Maff._                           Why, very good, sir;
+  I pray, then, give me leave. If for no pamphlet,
+  May I not know what other merit in you
+  Makes his compunction willing to relieve you?                      175
+
+  _Buss._ No merit in the world, sir.
+
+  _Maff._                             That is strange.
+  Y'are a poore souldier, are you?
+
+  _Buss._                          That I am, sir.
+
+  _Maff._ And have commanded?
+
+  _Buss._                     I, and gone without, sir.
+
+  _Maff._ I see the man: a hundred crownes will make him
+  Swagger, and drinke healths to his Graces bountie,                 180
+  And sweare he could not be more bountifull;
+  So there's nine hundred crounes sav'd. Here, tall souldier,
+  His Grace hath sent you a whole hundred crownes.
+
+  _Buss._ A hundred, sir! Nay, doe his Highnesse right;
+  I know his hand is larger, and perhaps                             185
+  I may deserve more than my outside shewes.
+  I am a poet as I am a souldier,
+  And I can poetise; and (being well encourag'd)
+  May sing his fame for giving; yours for delivering
+  (Like a most faithfull steward) what he gives.                     190
+
+  _Maff._ What shall your subject be?
+
+  _Buss._                             I care not much
+  If to his bounteous Grace I sing the praise
+  Of faire great noses, and to you of long ones.
+  What qualities have you, sir, (beside your chaine
+  And velvet jacket)? Can your Worship dance?                        195
+
+  _Maff._ A pleasant fellow, faith; it seemes my lord
+  Will have him for his jester; and, berlady,
+  Such men are now no fooles; 'tis a knights place.
+  If I (to save his Grace some crounes) should urge him
+  T'abate his bountie, I should not be heard;                        200
+  I would to heaven I were an errant asse,
+  For then I should be sure to have the eares
+  Of these great men, where now their jesters have them.
+  Tis good to please him, yet Ile take no notice
+  Of his preferment, but in policie                                  205
+  Will still be grave and serious, lest he thinke
+  I feare his woodden dagger. Here, Sir Ambo!
+
+  _Buss._ How, Ambo, Sir?
+
+  _Maff._                      I, is not your name Ambo?
+
+  _Buss._ You call'd me lately D'Amboys; has your Worship
+  So short a head?
+
+  _Maff._          I cry thee mercy, D'Amboys.                       210
+  A thousand crownes I bring you from my lord;
+  If you be thriftie, and play the good husband, you may make
+  This a good standing living; 'tis a bountie,
+  His Highnesse might perhaps have bestow'd better.
+
+  _Buss._ Goe, y'are a rascall; hence, away, you rogue!
+                                                   [_Strikes him._]  215
+
+  _Maff._ What meane you, sir?
+
+  _Buss._                           Hence! prate no more!
+  Or, by thy villans bloud, thou prat'st thy last!
+  A barbarous groome grudge at his masters bountie!
+  But since I know he would as much abhorre
+  His hinde should argue what he gives his friend,                   220
+  Take that, Sir, for your aptnesse to dispute.             _Exit._
+
+  _Maff._ These crownes are set in bloud; bloud be their fruit!
+                                                            _Exit._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+           5  _continuall_. A, incessant.
+
+           8  _forming_. A, forging.
+
+          10  _men meerely great_. A, our tympanouse statists.
+
+          20  _wealth_. A, powers.
+
+          25  _faine_. A, glad.
+
+          31  _earth_. A, world.
+
+          40  _meane_. A, poore.
+
+          43  _possible_. A, likely.
+
+          44  _good to_. A, fit I.
+
+          57  _Callest_. A, Think'st.
+
+          80  _doe_. A, doth.
+
+          82  _me_? A, me doe.
+
+          92  _humorous_. A, portly.
+
+       102-3  _And . . . part_. Repunctuated by ed. Qq have:--
+
+              And (hearing villanies preacht) t'unfold their Art
+              Learne to commit them, Tis a great mans Part.
+
+         110  _loves_. A, eies.
+
+         113  _old_. A, rude.
+
+         117  _be wise_. A, be rul'd.
+
+     122-125  _Like . . . ignorant_. A omits.
+
+         126  _To fit his seed-land soyl_. A, But hee's no husband
+              heere.
+
+         130  _for_. A, with.
+
+         153  After this line B inserts: Table, Chesbord & Tapers
+              behind the Arras. This relates not to the present
+              Scene, but to Scene 2, where the King and Guise play
+              chess (cf. I, 2, 184). Either it has been inserted,
+              by a printer's error, prematurely; or, more probably,
+              it may be an instruction to the "prompter" to see
+              that the properties needed in the next Scene are
+              ready, which has crept from an acting version of the
+              play into the Quartos.
+
+         156  _His passe_. A, A passe.
+
+         157  _respect_. A, good fashion.
+
+         167  _your great masters goodnesse_. A, his wise
+              excellencie.
+
+         170  _rude_. A, bad.
+
+         180  _Graces_. A, highnes.
+
+         192  _bounteous Grace_. A, excellence.
+
+         193  _and to you of long ones_. A has:--
+
+              And to your deserts
+              The reverend vertues of a faithfull steward.
+
+         196  _pleasant_. A, merrie.
+
+         197  _berlady_. A, beleeve it.
+
+         199  _his Grace_. A, my Lord.
+
+     208-210. _How . . . D'Amboys_. A omits.
+
+         212  _If you be thriftie, and_. A, Serve God.
+
+
+  [SCENA SECUNDA.
+
+  _A room in the Court._]
+
+
+          _Henry, Guise, Montsurry, Elenor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero,
+          Charlotte, Pyra, Annable._
+
+  _Henry._ Duchesse of Guise, your Grace is much enricht
+  In the attendance of that English virgin,
+  That will initiate her prime of youth,
+  (Dispos'd to Court conditions) under the hand
+  Of your prefer'd instructions and command,                           5
+  Rather than any in the English Court,
+  Whose ladies are not matcht in Christendome
+  For gracefull and confirm'd behaviours,
+  More than the Court, where they are bred, is equall'd.
+
+  _Guise._ I like not their Court-fashion; it is too crestfalne       10
+  In all observance, making demi-gods
+  Of their great nobles; and of their old Queene
+  An ever-yong and most immortall goddesse.
+
+  _Montsurry._ No question shee's the rarest Queene in Europe.
+
+  _Guis._ But what's that to her immortality?                         15
+
+  _Henr._ Assure you, cosen Guise, so great a courtier,
+  So full of majestic and roiall parts,
+  No Queene in Christendome may vaunt her selfe.
+  Her Court approves it: that's a Court indeed,
+  Not mixt with clowneries us'd in common houses;                     20
+  But, as Courts should be th'abstracts of their Kingdomes,
+  In all the beautie, state, and worth they hold,
+  So is hers, amplie, and by her inform'd.
+  The world is not contracted in a man,
+  With more proportion and expression,                                25
+  Than in her Court, her kingdome. Our French Court
+  Is a meere mirror of confusion to it:
+  The king and subject, lord and every slave,
+  Dance a continuall haie; our roomes of state
+  Kept like our stables; no place more observ'd                       30
+  Than a rude market-place: and though our custome
+  Keepe this assur'd confusion from our eyes,
+  'Tis nere the lesse essentially unsightly,
+  Which they would soone see, would they change their forme
+  To this of ours, and then compare them both;                        35
+  Which we must not affect, because in kingdomes,
+  Where the Kings change doth breed the subjects terror,
+  Pure innovation is more grosse than error.
+
+  _Mont._ No question we shall see them imitate
+  (Though a farre off) the fashions of our Courts,                    40
+  As they have ever ap't us in attire;
+  Never were men so weary of their skins,
+  And apt to leape out of themselves as they;
+  Who, when they travell to bring forth rare men,
+  Come home delivered of a fine French suit:                          45
+  Their braines lie with their tailors, and get babies
+  For their most compleat issue; hee's sole heire
+  To all the morall vertues that first greetes
+  The light with a new fashion, which becomes them
+  Like apes, disfigur'd with the attires of men.                      50
+
+  _Henr._ No question they much wrong their reall worth
+  In affectation of outlandish scumme;
+  But they have faults, and we more: they foolish-proud
+  To jet in others plumes so haughtely;
+  We proud that they are proud of foolerie,                           55
+  Holding our worthes more compleat for their vaunts.
+
+          _Enter Monsieur, D'Ambois._
+
+  _Monsieur._ Come, mine owne sweet heart, I will enter thee.
+  Sir, I have brought a gentleman to court;
+  And pray, you would vouchsafe to doe him grace.
+
+  _Henr._ D'Ambois, I thinke.
+
+  _Bussy._                    That's still my name, my lord,          60
+  Though I be something altered in attire.
+
+  _Henr._ We like your alteration, and must tell you,
+  We have expected th'offer of your service;
+  For we (in feare to make mild vertue proud)
+  Use not to seeke her out in any man.                                65
+
+  _Buss._ Nor doth she use to seeke out any man:
+  He that will winne, must wooe her: she's not shameless.
+
+  _Mons._ I urg'd her modestie in him, my lord,
+  And gave her those rites that he sayes shee merits.
+
+  _Henr._ If you have woo'd and won, then, brother, weare him.        70
+
+  _Mons._ Th'art mine, sweet heart! See, here's the Guises Duches;
+  The Countesse of Mountsurreaue, Beaupre.
+  Come, I'le enseame thee. Ladies, y'are too many
+  To be in counsell: I have here a friend
+  That I would gladly enter in your graces.                           75
+
+  _Buss._ 'Save you, ladyes!
+
+  _Duchess._ If you enter him in our graces, my
+  lord, me thinkes, by his blunt behaviour he should
+  come out of himselfe.
+
+  _Tamyra._ Has he never beene courtier, my                           80
+  lord?
+
+  _Mons._ Never, my lady.
+
+  _Beaupre._ And why did the toy take him inth'
+  head now?
+
+  _Buss._ Tis leape yeare, lady, and therefore very                   85
+  good to enter a courtier.
+
+  _Henr._ Marke, Duchesse of Guise, there is
+  one is not bashfull.
+
+  _Duch._ No my lord, he is much guilty of the
+  bold extremity.                                                     90
+
+  _Tam._ The man's a courtier at first sight.
+
+  _Buss._ I can sing pricksong, lady, at first
+  sight; and why not be a courtier as suddenly?
+
+  _Beaup._ Here's a courtier rotten before he be
+  ripe.                                                               95
+
+  _Buss._ Thinke me not impudent, lady; I am
+  yet no courtier; I desire to be one and would
+  gladly take entrance, madam, under your
+  princely colours.
+
+          _Enter Barrisor, L'Anou, Pyrhot._
+
+  _Duch._ Soft sir, you must rise by degrees, first                  100
+  being the servant of some common Lady or
+  Knights wife, then a little higher to a Lords
+  wife; next a little higher to a Countesse; yet a
+  little higher to a Duchesse, and then turne the
+  ladder.                                                            105
+
+  _Buss._ Doe you alow a man then foure mistresses,
+  when the greatest mistresse is alowed
+  but three servants?
+
+  _Duch._ Where find you that statute sir.
+
+  _Buss._ Why be judged by the groome-porters.                       110
+
+  _Duch._ The groome-porters!
+
+  _Buss._ I, madam, must not they judge of all
+  gamings i'th' Court?
+
+  _Duch._ You talke like a gamester.
+
+  _Gui._ Sir, know you me?                                           115
+
+  _Buss._ My lord!
+
+  _Gui._ I know not you; whom doe you serve?
+
+  _Buss._ Serve, my lord!
+
+  _Gui._ Go to companion; your courtship's too
+  saucie.                                                            120
+
+  _Buss._ Saucie! Companion! tis the Guise,
+  but yet those termes might have beene spar'd of
+  the guiserd. Companion! He's jealous, by this
+  light. Are you blind of that side, Duke? Ile
+  to her againe for that. Forth, princely mistresse,                 125
+  for the honour of courtship. Another riddle.
+
+  _Gui._ Cease your courtshippe, or, by heaven,
+  Ile cut your throat.
+
+  _Buss._ Cut my throat? cut a whetstone, young
+  Accius Noevius! Doe as much with your                              130
+  tongue as he did with a rasor. Cut my throat!
+
+  _Barrisor._ What new-come gallant have wee
+  heere, that dares mate the Guise thus?
+
+  _L'Anou._ Sfoot, tis D'Ambois! the Duke mistakes
+  him (on my life) for some Knight of the                            135
+  new edition.
+
+  _Buss._ Cut my throat! I would the King
+  fear'd thy cutting of his throat no more than I
+  feare thy cutting of mine.
+
+  _Gui._ Ile doe't, by this hand.                                    140
+
+  _Buss._ That hand dares not doe't; y'ave cut
+  too many throats already, Guise, and robb'd the
+  realme of many thousand soules, more precious
+  than thine owne. Come, madam, talk on. Sfoot,
+  can you not talk? Talk on, I say. Another                          145
+  riddle.
+
+  _Pyrhot._ Here's some strange distemper.
+
+  _Bar._ Here's a sudden transmigration with
+  D'Ambois, out of the Knights ward into the
+  Duches bed.                                                        150
+
+  _L'An._ See what a metamorphosis a brave
+  suit can work.
+
+  _Pyr._ Slight! step to the Guise, and discover
+  him.
+
+  _Bar._ By no meanes; let the new suit work;                        155
+  wee'll see the issue.
+
+  _Gui._ Leave your courting.
+
+  _Buss._ I will not. I say, mistresse, and I will
+  stand unto it, that if a woman may have three
+  servants, a man may have threescore mistresses.                    160
+
+  _Gui._ Sirrha, Ile have you whipt out of the
+  Court for this insolence.
+
+  _Buss._ Whipt! Such another syllable out a
+  th'presence, if thou dar'st, for thy Dukedome.
+
+  _Gui._ Remember, poultron!                                         165
+
+  _Mons._ Pray thee forbeare!
+
+  _Buss._ Passion of death! Were not the King
+  here, he should strow the chamber like a rush.
+
+  _Mons._ But leave courting his wife then.
+
+  _Buss._ I wil not: Ile court her in despight of                    170
+  him. Not court her! Come madam, talk on;
+  feare me nothing. [_To Guise._] Well mai'st
+  thou drive thy master from the Court, but never
+  D'Ambois.
+
+  _Mons._ His great heart will not down, tis like the sea,           175
+  That partly by his owne internall heat,
+  Partly the starrs daily and nightly motion,
+  Their heat and light, and partly of the place
+  The divers frames, but chiefly by the moone,
+  Bristled with surges, never will be wonne,                         180
+  (No, not when th'hearts of all those powers are burst)
+  To make retreat into his setled home,
+  Till he be crown'd with his owne quiet fome.
+
+  _Henr._ You have the mate. Another?
+
+  _Gui._                              No more.    _Flourish short._
+
+          _Exit Guise; after him the King, Mons[ieur] whispering._
+
+  _Bar._ Why here's the lion skar'd with the                         185
+  throat of a dunghill cock, a fellow that has
+  newly shak'd off his shackles; now does he
+  crow for that victory.
+
+  _L'An._ Tis one of the best jiggs that ever
+  was acted.                                                         190
+
+  _Pyr._ Whom does the Guise suppose him to
+  be, troe?
+
+  _L'An._ Out of doubt, some new denizond
+  Lord, and thinks that suit newly drawne out a
+  th' mercers books.                                                 195
+
+  _Bar._ I have heard of a fellow, that by a fixt
+  imagination looking upon a bulbaiting, had a
+  visible paire of hornes grew out of his forhead:
+  and I beleeve this gallant overjoyed with the
+  conceit of Monsieurs cast suit, imagines himselfe                  200
+  to be the Monsieur.
+
+  _L'An._ And why not? as well as the asse
+  stalking in the lions case, bare himselfe like a
+  lion, braying all the huger beasts out of the
+  forrest?                                                           205
+
+  _Pyr._ Peace! he looks this way.
+
+  _Bar._ Marrie, let him look, sir; what will you
+  say now if the Guise be gone to fetch a blanquet
+  for him?
+
+  _L'An._ Faith, I beleeve it, for his honour sake.                  210
+
+  _Pyr._ But, if D'Ambois carrie it cleane?        _Exeunt Ladies._
+
+  _Bar._ True, when he curvets in the blanquet.
+
+  _Pyr._ I, marrie, sir.
+
+  _L'An._ Sfoot, see how he stares on's.
+
+  _Bar._ Lord blesse us, let's away.                                 215
+
+  _Buss._ Now, sir, take your full view: who
+  does the object please ye?
+
+  _Bar._ If you aske my opinion, sir, I think
+  your suit sits as well as if't had beene made for
+  you.                                                               220
+
+  _Buss._ So, sir, and was that the subject of your
+  ridiculous joylity?
+
+  _L'An._ What's that to you, sir?
+
+  _Buss._ Sir, I have observ'd all your fleerings;
+  and resolve your selves yee shall give a strickt                   225
+  account for't.
+
+          _Enter Brisac, Melynell._
+
+  _Bar._ O miraculous jealousie! Doe you think
+  your selfe such a singular subject for laughter
+  that none can fall into the matter of our merriment
+  but you?                                                           230
+
+  _L'An._ This jealousie of yours, sir, confesses
+  some close defect in your selfe that wee never
+  dream'd of.
+
+  _Pyr._ Wee held discourse of a perfum'd asse,
+  that being disguis'd in a lions case imagin'd                      235
+  himself a lion: I hope that toucht not you.
+
+  _Buss._ So, sir? Your descants doe marvellous
+  well fit this ground; we shall meet where your
+  buffonly laughters will cost ye the best blood in
+  your bodies.                                                       240
+
+  _Bar._ For lifes sake, let's be gone; hee'll kill's
+  outright else.
+
+  _Buss._ Goe, at your pleasures; Ile be your
+  ghost to haunt you; and yee sleepe an't, hang
+  me.                                                                245
+
+  _L'An._ Goe, goe, sir; court your mistresse.
+
+  _Pyr._ And be advis'd; we shall have odds
+  against you.
+
+  _Buss._ Tush, valour stands not in number: Ile
+  maintaine it that one man may beat three boyes.                    250
+
+  _Brisac._ Nay, you shall have no ods of him in
+  number, sir; hee's a gentleman as good as the
+  proudest of you, and yee shall not wrong him.
+
+  _Bar._ Not, sir?
+
+  _Melynell._ Not, sir; though he be not so rich,                    255
+  hee's a better man than the best of you; and I
+  will not endure it.
+
+  _L'An._ Not you, sir?
+
+  _Bris._ No, sir, nor I.
+
+  _Buss._ I should thank you for this kindnesse,                     260
+  if I thought these perfum'd musk-cats (being
+  out of this priviledge) durst but once mew at us.
+
+  _Bar._ Does your confident spirit doubt that,
+  sir? Follow us and try.
+
+  _L'An._ Come, sir, wee'll lead you a dance.                        265
+                                                          _Exeunt._
+
+          _Finis Actus Primi._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+           2  _that_. A, this.
+
+           4  _the_. A omits.
+
+          10  _Court-fashion_. A, Court forme.
+
+          11  _demi-gods_. A, semi-gods.
+
+       14-15  _No question . . . immortality_. A omits.
+
+          18  _vaunt_. A, boast.
+
+          20  _clowneries_. A, rudenesse.
+
+          32  _confusion_. A, deformitie.
+
+          47  _sole heire_. A, first borne.
+
+          53  _more_. A omits.
+
+          54  _To jet . . . haughtely_. A, To be the pictures of
+              our vanitie.
+
+          56  _Holding . . . vaunts_. A omits.
+
+          58  _a_. A, this. _to court_. A, t'attend you.
+
+       60-61  _That's . . . attire_. Printed as prose in Qq.
+
+      62, 63  _We_. A, I.
+
+          67  So in A: B has only: They that will winne, must wooe
+              her.
+
+          71  _sweet heart_. A, my love.
+
+       68-75. _I urg'd . . . graces_. Printed as prose in Qq.
+
+          76  _'Save you, ladyes_! A omits.
+
+       87-90  _Marke . . . extremity_. A omits.
+
+              _Enter . . . Pyrhot_. After l. 146 in A.
+
+     100-114  _Soft . . . gamester_. A omits.
+
+         124  _Duke_. A, Sir.
+
+         125  _princely mistresse_. A, madam.
+
+         126  _Another riddle_. A omits.
+
+         129  _young_. A, good.
+
+     132-139, and an additional line: "_Gui._ So, sir, so,"
+              inserted after l. 146 in A.
+
+     141-145  Set as verse in B, the lines ending in _many_, _of_,
+              _owne_, _talk_.
+
+     145-146  _Another riddle_. A, More courtship, as you love it.
+
+         178  _Their heat_. A, Ardor.
+
+         204  _braying_. A, roaring.
+
+         227  _miraculous jealousie_. A, strange credulitie.
+
+         229  _the matter of_. A omits.
+
+     227-231  _O . . . you_. Printed as three lines of verse,
+              ending in _selfe_, _into_, _you_.
+
+         235  _in_. A, with.
+
+         241  _else_. A omits.
+
+
+
+
+  ACTUS SECUND[i.] SCENA PRIMA.
+
+  [_A Room in the Court._]
+
+
+          _Henry, Guise, Montsurry, and Attendants._
+
+  _Henry._ This desperate quarrell sprung out of their envies
+  To D'Ambois sudden bravery, and great spirit.
+
+  _Guise._ Neither is worth their envie.
+
+  _Henr._                                Lesse than either
+  Will make the gall of envie overflow;
+  She feeds on outcast entrailes like a kite:                          5
+  In which foule heape, if any ill lies hid,
+  She sticks her beak into it, shakes it up,
+  And hurl's it all abroad, that all may view it.
+  Corruption is her nutriment; but touch her
+  With any precious oyntment, and you kill her.                       10
+  Where she finds any filth in men, she feasts,
+  And with her black throat bruits it through the world
+  Being sound and healthfull; but if she but taste
+  The slenderest pittance of commended vertue,
+  She surfets of it, and is like a flie                               15
+  That passes all the bodies soundest parts,
+  And dwels upon the sores; or if her squint eie
+  Have power to find none there, she forges some:
+  She makes that crooked ever which is strait;
+  Calls valour giddinesse, justice tyrannie:                          20
+  A wise man may shun her, she not her selfe;
+  Whither soever she flies from her harmes,
+  She beares her foe still claspt in her own armes:
+  And therefore, cousen Guise, let us avoid her.
+
+          _Enter Nuncius._
+
+  _Nuncius._ What Atlas or Olympus lifts his head                     25
+  So farre past covert, that with aire enough
+  My words may be inform'd, and from their height
+  I may be seene and heard through all the world?
+  A tale so worthy, and so fraught with wonder,
+  Sticks in my jawes, and labours with event.                         30
+
+  _Henr._ Com'st thou from D'Ambois?
+
+  _Nun._                                  From him, and the rest,
+  His friends and enemies; whose sterne fight I saw,
+  And heard their words before, and in the fray.
+
+  _Henr._ Relate at large what thou hast seene and heard.
+
+  _Nun._ I saw fierce D'Ambois and his two brave friends              35
+  Enter the field, and at their heeles their foes;
+  Which were the famous souldiers, Barrisor,
+  L'Anou, and Pyrrhot, great in deeds of armes.
+  All which arriv'd at the evenest peece of earth
+  The field afforded, the three challengers                           40
+  Turn'd head, drew all their rapiers, and stood ranck't;
+  When face to face the three defendants met them,
+  Alike prepar'd, and resolute alike.
+  Like bonfires of contributorie wood
+  Every mans look shew'd, fed with eithers spirit;                    45
+  As one had beene a mirror to another,
+  Like formes of life and death each took from other;
+  And so were life and death mixt at their heights,
+  That you could see no feare of death, for life,
+  Nor love of life, for death: but in their browes                    50
+  Pyrrho's opinion in great letters shone:
+  That life and death in all respects are one.
+
+  _Henr._ Past there no sort of words at their encounter?
+
+  _Nun._ As Hector, twixt the hosts of Greece and Troy,
+  (When Paris and the Spartane King should end                        55
+  The nine yeares warre) held up his brasen launce
+  For signall that both hosts should cease from armes,
+  And heare him speak; so Barrisor (advis'd)
+  Advanc'd his naked rapier twixt both sides,
+  Ript up the quarrell, and compar'd six lives                        60
+  Then laid in ballance with six idle words;
+  Offer'd remission and contrition too,
+  Or else that he and D'Ambois might conclude
+  The others dangers. D'Ambois lik'd the last;
+  But Barrisors friends (being equally engag'd                        65
+  In the maine quarrell) never would expose
+  His life alone to that they all deserv'd.
+  And for the other offer of remission
+  D'Ambois (that like a lawrell put in fire
+  Sparkl'd and spit) did much much more than scorne                   70
+  That his wrong should incense him so like chaffe,
+  To goe so soone out, and like lighted paper
+  Approve his spirit at once both fire and ashes.
+  So drew they lots, and in them Fates appointed,
+  That Barrisor should fight with firie D'Ambois;                     75
+  Pyrhot with Melynell, with Brisac L'Anou;
+  And then, like flame and powder, they commixt
+  So spritely, that I wisht they had beene spirits,
+  That the ne're shutting wounds they needs must open
+  Might, as they open'd, shut, and never kill.                        80
+  But D'Ambois sword (that lightned as it flew)
+  Shot like a pointed comet at the face
+  Of manly Barrisor, and there it stucke:
+  Thrice pluckt he at it, and thrice drew on thrusts
+  From him that of himselfe was free as fire,                         85
+  Who thrust still as he pluckt; yet (past beliefe!)
+  He with his subtile eye, hand, body, scap't.
+  At last, the deadly bitten point tugg'd off,
+  On fell his yet undaunted foe so fiercely,
+  That (only made more horrid with his wound)                         90
+  Great D'Ambois shrunke, and gave a little ground;
+  But soone return'd, redoubled in his danger,
+  And at the heart of Barrisor seal'd his anger.
+  Then, as in Arden I have seene an oke
+  Long shooke with tempests, and his loftie toppe                     95
+  Bent to his root, which being at length made loose
+  (Even groaning with his weight), he gan to nodde
+  This way and that, as loth his curled browes
+  (Which he had oft wrapt in the skie with stormes)
+  Should stoope: and yet, his radicall fivers burst,                 100
+  Storme-like he fell, and hid the feare-cold earth--
+  So fell stout Barrisor, that had stood the shocks
+  Of ten set battels in your Highnesse warre,
+  'Gainst the sole souldier of the world, Navarre.
+
+  _Gui._ O pitious and horrid murther!
+
+  [_Montsurry._]                       Such a life                   105
+  Me thinks had mettall in it to survive
+  An age of men.
+
+  _Henr._        Such often soonest end.--
+  Thy felt report cals on; we long to know
+  On what events the other have arriv'd.
+
+  _Nun._ Sorrow and fury, like two opposite fumes                    110
+  Met in the upper region of a cloud,
+  At the report made by this worthies fall,
+  Brake from the earth, and with them rose Revenge,
+  Entring with fresh powers his two noble friends;
+  And under that ods fell surcharg'd Brisac,                         115
+  The friend of D'Ambois, before fierce L'Anou;
+  Which D'Ambois seeing, as I once did see,
+  In my young travels through Armenia,
+  An angrie unicorne in his full cariere
+  Charge with too swift a foot a jeweller,                           120
+  That watcht him for the treasure of his brow,
+  And, ere he could get shelter of a tree,
+  Naile him with his rich antler to the earth:
+  So D'Ambois ranne upon reveng'd L'Anou,
+  Who eying th'eager point borne in his face,                        125
+  And giving backe, fell back; and, in his fall,
+  His foes uncurbed sword stopt in his heart:
+  By which time all the life strings of th'tw'other
+  Were cut, and both fell, as their spirit flew,
+  Upwards, and still hunt Honour at the view.                        130
+  And now (of all the six) sole D'Ambois stood
+  Untoucht, save only with the others bloud.
+
+  _Henr._ All slaine outright?
+
+  _Nun._                       All slaine outright but he,
+  Who kneeling in the warme life of his friends,
+  (All freckled with the bloud his rapier raind)                     135
+  He kist their pale lips, and bade both farewell:
+  And see the bravest man the French earth beares!
+                                                  [_Exit Nuntius._]
+
+          _Enter Monsieur, D'Amb[ois] bare._
+
+  _Bussy._ Now is the time; y'are princely vow'd my friend;
+  Perform it princely, and obtaine my pardon.
+
+  _Monsieur._ Else Heaven forgive not me! Come on, brave friend!     140
+  If ever Nature held her selfe her owne,
+  When the great triall of a King and subject
+  Met in one bloud, both from one belly springing,
+  Now prove her vertue and her greatnesse one,
+  Or make the t'one the greater with the t'other,                    145
+  (As true Kings should) and for your brothers love
+  (Which is a speciall species of true vertue)
+  Doe that you could not doe, not being a King.
+
+  _Henr._ Brother, I know your suit; these wilfull murthers
+  Are ever past our pardon.
+
+  _Mons._                   Manly slaughter                          150
+  Should never beare th'account of wilfull murther,
+  It being a spice of justice, where with life
+  Offending past law equall life is laid
+  In equall ballance, to scourge that offence
+  By law of reputation, which to men                                 155
+  Exceeds all positive law; and what that leaves
+  To true mens valours (not prefixing rights
+  Of satisfaction suited to their wrongs)
+  A free mans eminence may supply and take.
+
+  _Henr._ This would make every man that thinks him wrong'd,         160
+  Or is offended, or in wrong or right,
+  Lay on this violence; and all vaunt themselves
+  Law-menders and supplyers, though meere butchers,
+  Should this fact, though of justice, be forgiven.
+
+  _Mons._ O no, my Lord! it would make cowards feare                 165
+  To touch the reputations of true men.
+  When only they are left to impe the law,
+  Justice will soone distinguish murtherous minds
+  From just revengers. Had my friend beene slaine,
+  His enemy surviving, he should die,                                170
+  Since he had added to a murther'd fame
+  (Which was in his intent) a murthered man;
+  And this had worthily beene wilfull murther;
+  But my friend only sav'd his fames deare life,
+  Which is above life, taking th'under value                         175
+  Which in the wrong it did was forfeit to him;
+  And in this fact only preserves a man
+  In his uprightnesse, worthy to survive
+  Millions of such as murther men alive.
+
+  _Henr._ Well, brother, rise, and raise your friend withall         180
+  From death to life: and, D'Ambois, let your life
+  (Refin'd by passing through this merited death)
+  Be purg'd from more such foule pollution;
+  Nor on your scape, nor valour, more presuming
+  To be again so violent.
+
+  _Buss._                 My Lord,                                   185
+  I lothe as much a deed of unjust death,
+  As law it selfe doth; and to tyrannise,
+  Because I have a little spirit to dare,
+  And power to doe, as to be tyranniz'd.
+  This is a grace that (on my knees redoubled)                       190
+  I crave, to double this my short lifes gift,
+  And shall your royal bountie centuple,
+  That I may so make good what Law and Nature
+  Have given me for my good: since I am free,
+  (Offending no just law) let no law make,                           195
+  By any wrong it does, my life her slave:
+  When I am wrong'd, and that Law failes to right me,
+  Let me be King my selfe (as man was made)
+  And doe a justice that exceeds the Law:
+  If my wrong passe the power of single valour                       200
+  To right and expiate, then be you my King,
+  And doe a right, exceeding Law and Nature.
+  Who to himselfe is law, no law doth need,
+  Offends no law, and is a King indeed.
+
+  _Henr._ Enjoy what thou intreat'st, we give but ours.              205
+
+  _Buss._ What you have given, my lord, is ever yours.
+                                        _Exit Rex cum [Montsurry.]_
+
+  _Gui._ _Mort dieu_, who would have pardon'd such a murther?
+                                                            _Exit._
+
+  _Mons._ Now vanish horrors into Court attractions
+  For which let this balme make thee fresh and faire!
+  And now forth with thy service to the Duchesse,                    210
+  As my long love will to Monsurries Countesse.             _Exit._
+
+  _Buss._ To whom my love hath long been vow'd in heart,
+  Although in hand, for shew, I held the Duchesse.
+  And now through bloud and vengeance, deeds of height,
+  And hard to be atchiev'd, tis fit I make                           215
+  Attempt of her perfection. I need feare
+  No check in his rivality, since her vertues
+  Are so renown'd, and hee of all dames hated.              _Exit._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Montsurry, and Attendants._ A, Beaumond, Nuncius.
+
+          11  _Where_. A, When.
+
+          27  _their_. A, his.
+
+          70  _Sparkl'd_. So in A; B, Spakl'd.
+
+         105  [_Montsurry._] Emend. ed.: Beau. Qq; see note 30, p.
+              149.
+
+         120  _a foot_. A, an eie.
+
+         128  _th'_. A, the.
+
+         129  _spirit_. A, spirits.
+
+         133  _All slaine outright_? So in A; B, All slaine
+              outright but hee?
+
+         135  _freckled_. A, feebled.
+
+         166  _true_. A, full.
+
+         185  _violent_. So in A; B, daring.
+
+         204  _law_. A, King.
+
+         206  _cum [Montsurry.]_ Emend. ed.: Qq, cum Beau. See note
+              30, p. 149.
+
+         207  _Mort dieu_. A; B omits.
+
+     210-218  _And now . . . hated_. A omits, inserting instead:
+
+                _Buss._ How shall I quite your love?
+
+                _Mons._                              Be true to the
+                    end.
+                I have obtained a kingdome with my friend.
+
+
+  [ACTUS SECUNDI SCENA SECUNDA.
+
+  _A Room in Montsurry's House._]
+
+
+          _Montsur[ry], Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Pyrha._
+
+  _Montsurry._ He will have pardon, sure.
+
+  _Tamyra._                               Twere pittie else:
+  For though his great spirit something overflow,
+  All faults are still borne, that from greatnesse grow:
+  But such a sudden courtier saw I never.
+
+  _Beaupre._ He was too sudden, which indeed was rudenesse.            5
+
+  _Tam._ True, for it argued his no due conceit
+  Both of the place, and greatnesse of the persons,
+  Nor of our sex: all which (we all being strangers
+  To his encounter) should have made more maners
+  Deserve more welcome.
+
+  _Mont._               All this fault is found                       10
+  Because he lov'd the Duchesse and left you.
+
+  _Tam._ Ahlas, love give her joy! I am so farre
+  From envie of her honour, that I sweare,
+  Had he encounterd me with such proud sleight,
+  I would have put that project face of his                           15
+  To a more test than did her Dutchesship.
+
+  _Beau._ Why (by your leave, my lord) Ile speake it heere,
+  (Although she be my ante) she scarce was modest,
+  When she perceived the Duke, her husband, take
+  Those late exceptions to her servants courtship,                    20
+  To entertaine him.
+
+  _Tam._             I, and stand him still,
+  Letting her husband give her servant place:
+  Though he did manly, she should be a woman.
+
+          _Enter Guise._
+
+  [_Guise._] D'Ambois is pardond! wher's a King? where law?
+  See how it runnes, much like a turbulent sea;                       25
+  Heere high and glorious, as it did contend
+  To wash the heavens, and make the stars more pure;
+  And heere so low, it leaves the mud of hell
+  To every common view. Come, Count Montsurry,
+  We must consult of this.
+
+  _Tam._                   Stay not, sweet lord.                      30
+
+  _Mont._ Be pleased; Ile strait returne.         _Exit cum Guise._
+
+  _Tam._                                  Would that would please me!
+
+  _Beau._ Ile leave you, madam, to your passions;
+  I see ther's change of weather in your lookes.    _Exit cum suis._
+
+  _Tam._ I cannot cloake it; but, as when a fume,
+  Hot, drie, and grosse, within the wombe of earth                    35
+  Or in her superficies begot,
+  When extreame cold hath stroke it to her heart,
+  The more it is comprest, the more it rageth,
+  Exceeds his prisons strength that should containe it,
+  And then it tosseth temples in the aire,                            40
+  All barres made engines to his insolent fury:
+  So, of a sudden, my licentious fancy
+  Riots within me: not my name and house,
+  Nor my religion to this houre observ'd,
+  Can stand above it; I must utter that                               45
+  That will in parting breake more strings in me,
+  Than death when life parts; and that holy man
+  That, from my cradle, counseld for my soule,
+  I now must make an agent for my bloud.
+
+          _Enter Monsieur._
+
+  _Monsieur._ Yet is my mistresse gratious?
+
+  _Tam._                                    Yet unanswered?           50
+
+  _Mons._ Pray thee regard thine owne good, if not mine,
+  And cheere my love for that: you doe not know
+  What you may be by me, nor what without me;
+  I may have power t'advance and pull downe any.
+
+  _Tam._ That's not my study. One way I am sure                       55
+  You shall not pull downe me; my husbands height
+  Is crowne to all my hopes, and his retiring
+  To any meane state, shall be my aspiring.
+  Mine honour's in mine owne hands, spite of kings.
+
+  _Mons._ Honour, what's that? your second maydenhead:                60
+  And what is that? a word: the word is gone,
+  The thing remaines; the rose is pluckt, the stalk
+  Abides: an easie losse where no lack's found.
+  Beleeve it, there's as small lack in the losse
+  As there is paine ith' losing. Archers ever                         65
+  Have two strings to a bow, and shall great Cupid
+  (Archer of archers both in men and women)
+  Be worse provided than a common archer?
+  A husband and a friend all wise wives have.
+
+  _Tam._ Wise wives they are that on such strings depend,             70
+  With a firme husband joyning a lose friend.
+
+  _Mons._ Still you stand on your husband; so doe all
+  The common sex of you, when y'are encounter'd
+  With one ye cannot fancie: all men know
+  You live in Court here by your owne election,                       75
+  Frequenting all our common sports and triumphs,
+  All the most youthfull company of men.
+  And wherefore doe you this? To please your husband?
+  Tis grosse and fulsome: if your husbands pleasure
+  Be all your object, and you ayme at honour                          80
+  In living close to him, get you from Court,
+  You may have him at home; these common put-ofs
+  For common women serve: "my honour! husband!"
+  Dames maritorious ne're were meritorious:
+  Speak plaine, and say "I doe not like you, sir,                     85
+  Y'are an ill-favour'd fellow in my eye,"
+  And I am answer'd.
+
+  _Tam._             Then I pray be answer'd:
+  For in good faith, my lord, I doe not like you
+  In that sort you like.
+
+  _Mons._                Then have at you here!
+  Take (with a politique hand) this rope of pearle;                   90
+  And though you be not amorous, yet be wise:
+  Take me for wisedom; he that you can love
+  Is nere the further from you.
+
+  _Tam._                        Now it comes
+  So ill prepar'd, that I may take a poyson
+  Under a medicine as good cheap as it:                               95
+  I will not have it were it worth the world.
+
+  _Mons._ Horror of death! could I but please your eye,
+  You would give me the like, ere you would loose me.
+  "Honour and husband!"
+
+  _Tam._                By this light, my lord,
+  Y'are a vile fellow; and Ile tell the King                         100
+  Your occupation of dishonouring ladies,
+  And of his Court. A lady cannot live
+  As she was borne, and with that sort of pleasure
+  That fits her state, but she must be defam'd
+  With an infamous lords detraction:                                 105
+  Who would endure the Court if these attempts,
+  Of open and profest lust must be borne?--
+  Whose there? come on, dame, you are at your book
+  When men are at your mistresse; have I taught you
+  Any such waiting womans quality?                                   110
+
+  _Mons._ Farewell, good "husband"!              _Exit Mons[ieur]._
+
+  _Tam._                            Farewell, wicked lord!
+
+          _Enter Mont[surry]._
+
+  _Mont._ Was not the Monsieur here?
+
+  _Tam._                             Yes, to good purpose;
+  And your cause is as good to seek him too,
+  And haunt his company.
+
+  _Mont._                Why, what's the matter?
+
+  _Tam._ Matter of death, were I some husbands wife:                 115
+  I cannot live at quiet in my chamber
+  For oportunities almost to rapes
+  Offerd me by him.
+
+  _Mont._           Pray thee beare with him:
+  Thou know'st he is a bachelor, and a courtier,
+  I, and a Prince: and their prerogatives                            120
+  Are to their lawes, as to their pardons are
+  Their reservations, after Parliaments--
+  One quits another; forme gives all their essence.
+  That Prince doth high in vertues reckoning stand
+  That will entreat a vice, and not command:                         125
+  So farre beare with him; should another man
+  Trust to his priviledge, he should trust to death:
+  Take comfort then (my comfort), nay, triumph,
+  And crown thy selfe; thou part'st with victory:
+  My presence is so onely deare to thee                              130
+  That other mens appeare worse than they be:
+  For this night yet, beare with my forced absence:
+  Thou know'st my businesse; and with how much weight
+  My vow hath charged it.
+
+  _Tam._                  True, my lord, and never
+  My fruitlesse love shall let your serious honour;                  135
+  Yet, sweet lord, do no stay; you know my soule
+  Is so long time with out me, and I dead,
+  As you are absent.
+
+  _Mont._            By this kisse, receive
+  My soule for hostage, till I see my love.
+
+  _Tam._ The morne shall let me see you?
+
+  _Mont._                                With the sunne              140
+  Ile visit thy more comfortable beauties.
+
+  _Tam._ This is my comfort, that the sunne hath left
+  The whole worlds beauty ere my sunne leaves me.
+
+  _Mont._ Tis late night now, indeed: farewell, my light!   _Exit._
+
+  _Tam._ Farewell, my light and life! but not in him,                145
+  In mine owne dark love and light bent to another.
+  Alas! that in the wane of our affections
+  We should supply it with a full dissembling,
+  In which each youngest maid is grown a mother.
+  Frailty is fruitfull, one sinne gets another:                      150
+  Our loves like sparkles are that brightest shine
+  When they goe out; most vice shewes most divine.
+  Goe, maid, to bed; lend me your book, I pray,
+  Not, like your selfe, for forme. Ile this night trouble
+  None of your services: make sure the dores,                        155
+  And call your other fellowes to their rest.
+
+  _Per._ I will--yet I will watch to know why you watch.    _Exit._
+
+  _Tam._ Now all yee peacefull regents of the night,
+  Silently-gliding exhalations,
+  Languishing windes, and murmuring falls of waters,                 160
+  Sadnesse of heart, and ominous securenesse,
+  Enchantments, dead sleepes, all the friends of rest,
+  That ever wrought upon the life of man,
+  Extend your utmost strengths, and this charm'd houre
+  Fix like the Center! make the violent wheeles                      165
+  Of Time and Fortune stand, and great Existens,
+  (The Makers treasurie) now not seeme to be
+  To all but my approaching friends and me!
+  They come, alas, they come! Feare, feare and hope
+  Of one thing, at one instant, fight in me:                         170
+  I love what most I loath, and cannot live,
+  Unlesse I compasse that which holds my death;
+  For life's meere death, loving one that loathes me,
+  And he I love will loath me, when he sees
+  I flie my sex, my vertue, my renowne,                              175
+  To runne so madly on a man unknowne.           _The Vault opens._
+  See, see, a vault is opening that was never
+  Knowne to my lord and husband, nor to any
+  But him that brings the man I love, and me.
+  How shall I looke on him? how shall I live,                        180
+  And not consume in blushes? I will in;
+  And cast my selfe off, as I ne're had beene.              _Exit._
+
+          _Ascendit Frier and D'Ambois._
+
+  _Friar._ Come, worthiest sonne, I am past measure glad
+  That you (whose worth I have approv'd so long)
+  Should be the object of her fearefull love;                        185
+  Since both your wit and spirit can adapt
+  Their full force to supply her utmost weaknesse.
+  You know her worths and vertues, for report
+  Of all that know is to a man a knowledge:
+  You know besides that our affections storme,                       190
+  Rais'd in our blood, no reason can reforme.
+  Though she seeke then their satisfaction
+  (Which she must needs, or rest unsatisfied)
+  Your judgement will esteeme her peace thus wrought
+  Nothing lesse deare than if your selfe had sought:                 195
+  And (with another colour, which my art
+  Shall teach you to lay on) your selfe must seeme
+  The only agent, and the first orbe move
+  In this our set and cunning world of love.
+
+  _Bussy._ Give me the colour (my most honour'd father)              200
+  And trust my cunning then to lay it on.
+
+  _Fri._ Tis this, good sonne:--Lord Barrisor (whom you slew)
+  Did love her dearely, and with all fit meanes
+  Hath urg'd his acceptation, of all which
+  Shee keepes one letter written in his blood:                       205
+  You must say thus, then: that you heard from mee
+  How much her selfe was toucht in conscience
+  With a report (which is in truth disperst)
+  That your maine quarrell grew about her love,
+  Lord Barrisor imagining your courtship                             210
+  Of the great Guises Duchesse in the Presence
+  Was by you made to his elected mistresse:
+  And so made me your meane now to resolve her,
+  Chosing by my direction this nights depth,
+  For the more cleare avoiding of all note                           215
+  Of your presumed presence. And with this
+  (To cleare her hands of such a lovers blood)
+  She will so kindly thank and entertaine you
+  (Me thinks I see how), I, and ten to one,
+  Shew you the confirmation in his blood,                            220
+  Lest you should think report and she did faine,
+  That you shall so have circumstantiall meanes
+  To come to the direct, which must be used:
+  For the direct is crooked; love comes flying;
+  The height of love is still wonne with denying.                    225
+
+  _Buss._ Thanks, honoured father.
+
+  _Fri._                           Shee must never know
+  That you know any thing of any love
+  Sustain'd on her part: for, learne this of me,
+  In any thing a woman does alone,
+  If she dissemble, she thinks tis not done;                         230
+  If not dissemble, nor a little chide,
+  Give her her wish, she is not satisfi'd;
+  To have a man think that she never seekes
+  Does her more good than to have all she likes:
+  This frailty sticks in them beyond their sex,                      235
+  Which to reforme, reason is too perplex:
+  Urge reason to them, it will doe no good;
+  Humour (that is the charriot of our food
+  In every body) must in them be fed,
+  To carrie their affections by it bred.                             240
+  Stand close!
+
+          _Enter Tamyra with a book._
+
+  _Tam._ Alas, I fear my strangenesse will retire him.
+  If he goe back, I die; I must prevent it,
+  And cheare his onset with my sight at least,
+  And that's the most; though every step he takes                    245
+  Goes to my heart. Ile rather die than seeme
+  Not to be strange to that I most esteeme.
+
+  _Fri._ Madam!
+
+  _Tam._        Ah!
+
+  _Fri._            You will pardon me, I hope,
+  That so beyond your expectation,
+  (And at a time for visitants so unfit)                             250
+  I (with my noble friend here) visit you:
+  You know that my accesse at any time
+  Hath ever beene admitted; and that friend,
+  That my care will presume to bring with me,
+  Shall have all circumstance of worth in him                        255
+  To merit as free welcome as myselfe.
+
+  _Tam._ O father, but at this suspicious houre
+  You know how apt best men are to suspect us
+  In any cause that makes suspicious shadow
+  No greater than the shadow of a haire;                             260
+  And y'are to blame. What though my lord and husband
+  Lie forth to night, and since I cannot sleepe
+  When he is absent I sit up to night;
+  Though all the dores are sure, and all our servants
+  As sure bound with their sleepes; yet there is One                 265
+  That wakes above, whose eye no sleepe can binde:
+  He sees through dores, and darknesse, and our thoughts;
+  And therefore as we should avoid with feare
+  To think amisse our selves before his search,
+  So should we be as curious to shunne                               270
+  All cause that other think not ill of us.
+
+  _Buss._ Madam, 'tis farre from that: I only heard
+  By this my honour'd father that your conscience
+  Made some deepe scruple with a false report
+  That Barrisors blood should something touch your honour,           275
+  Since he imagin'd I was courting you
+  When I was bold to change words with the Duchesse,
+  And therefore made his quarrell, his long love
+  And service, as I heare, beeing deepely vowed
+  To your perfections; which my ready presence,                      280
+  Presum'd on with my father at this season
+  For the more care of your so curious honour,
+  Can well resolve your conscience is most false.
+
+  _Tam._ And is it therefore that you come, good sir?
+  Then crave I now your pardon and my fathers,                       285
+  And sweare your presence does me so much good
+  That all I have it bindes to your requitall.
+  Indeed sir, 'tis most true that a report
+  Is spread, alleadging that his love to me
+  Was reason of your quarrell; and because                           290
+  You shall not think I faine it for my glory
+  That he importun'd me for his Court service,
+  I'le shew you his own hand, set down in blood,
+  To that vaine purpose: good sir, then come in.
+  Father, I thank you now a thousand fold.                           295
+                                      _Exit Tamyra and D'Amb[ois]._
+
+  _Fri._ May it be worth it to you, honour'd daughter!
+                                                 _Descendit Fryar._
+
+          _Finis Actus Secundi._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+        1-49  _He will . . . bloud_. These lines and the direction,
+              _Montsur . . . Pyrha_, are found in A only.
+
+          50  B, which begins the scene with this line, inserts
+              before it: _Enter Monsieur, Tamyra, and Pero with a
+              booke._
+
+          71  _joyning a lose_. A, weighing a dissolute.
+
+          76  _common_. A, solemne.
+
+         135  _honour_. A, profit.
+
+         146  _In . . . another_. A omits.
+
+         147  _wane_. Emend., Dilke; Qq, wave.
+
+         158  _yee_. A, the.
+
+         172  _which_. A, that.
+
+         173  _For life's . . . me_. A, For love is hatefull
+              without love againe.
+
+              _The Vault opens_. B places this after 173; A omits.
+
+     177-181  _See . . . in_. Instead of these lines, A has:--
+
+                See, see the gulfe is opening that will
+                    swallow
+                Me and my fame forever; I will in.
+
+              _with a book_. A omits.
+
+         266  _wakes_. A, sits.
+
+         274  _Made some deepe scruple_. A, Was something troubled.
+
+         275  _honour_. A, hand.
+
+     278-280  _his long love . . . perfections_. A omits.
+
+         280  _ready_. A omits.
+
+         286  _good_. A, comfort.
+
+
+
+
+  ACTUS TERTII SCENA PRIMA.
+
+  [_A Room in Montsurry's House._]
+
+
+          _Enter D'Ambois, Tamyra, with a chaine of pearle._
+
+  _Bussy._ Sweet mistresse, cease! your conscience is too nice,
+  And bites too hotly of the Puritane spice.
+
+  _Tamyra._ O, my deare servant, in thy close embraces
+  I have set open all the dores of danger
+  To my encompast honour, and my life:                                 5
+  Before I was secure against death and hell;
+  But now am subject to the heartlesse feare
+  Of every shadow, and of every breath,
+  And would change firmnesse with an aspen leafe:
+  So confident a spotlesse conscience is,                             10
+  So weake a guilty. O, the dangerous siege
+  Sinne layes about us, and the tyrannie
+  He exercises when he hath expugn'd!
+  Like to the horror of a winter's thunder,
+  Mixt with a gushing storme, that suffer nothing                     15
+  To stirre abroad on earth but their own rages,
+  Is sinne, when it hath gathered head above us;
+  No roofe, no shelter can secure us so,
+  But he will drowne our cheeks in feare or woe.
+
+  _Buss._ Sin is a coward, madam, and insults                         20
+  But on our weaknesse, in his truest valour:
+  And so our ignorance tames us, that we let
+  His shadowes fright us: and like empty clouds
+  In which our faulty apprehensions forge
+  The formes of dragons, lions, elephants,                            25
+  When they hold no proportion, the slie charmes
+  Of the witch policy makes him like a monster
+  Kept onely to shew men for servile money:
+  That false hagge often paints him in her cloth
+  Ten times more monstrous than he is in troth.                       30
+  In three of us the secret of our meeting
+  Is onely guarded, and three friends as one
+  Have ever beene esteem'd, as our three powers
+  That in our one soule are as one united:
+  Why should we feare then? for my selfe, I sweare,                   35
+  Sooner shall torture be the sire to pleasure,
+  And health be grievous to one long time sick,
+  Than the deare jewell of your fame in me
+  Be made an out-cast to your infamy;
+  Nor shall my value (sacred to your vertues)                         40
+  Onely give free course to it from my selfe,
+  But make it flie out of the mouths of Kings
+  In golden vapours, and with awfull wings.
+
+  _Tam._ It rests as all Kings seales were set in thee.
+  Now let us call my father, whom I sweare                            45
+  I could extreamly chide, but that I feare
+  To make him so suspicious of my love,
+  Of which (sweet servant) doe not let him know
+  For all the world.
+
+  _Buss._            Alas! he will not think it.
+
+  _Tam._ Come then--ho! Father, ope and take your friend.             50
+
+          _Ascendit Frier._
+
+  _Fri._ Now, honour'd daughter, is your doubt resolv'd?
+
+  _Tam._ I, father, but you went away too soone.
+
+  _Fri._ Too soone!
+
+  _Tam._            Indeed you did; you should have stayed;
+  Had not your worthy friend beene of your bringing,
+  And that containes all lawes to temper me,                          55
+  Not all the fearefull danger that besieged us
+  Had aw'd my throat from exclamation.
+
+  _Fri._ I know your serious disposition well.
+  Come, sonne, the morne comes on.
+
+  _Buss._                          Now, honour'd mistresse,
+  Till farther service call, all blisse supply you!                   60
+
+  _Tam._ And you this chaine of pearle, and my love onely!
+                                  _Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]._
+  It is not I, but urgent destiny
+  That (as great states-men for their generall end
+  In politique justice make poore men offend)
+  Enforceth my offence to make it just.                               65
+  What shall weak dames doe, when th' whole work of Nature
+  Hath a strong finger in each one of us?
+  Needs must that sweep away the silly cobweb
+  Of our still-undone labours, that layes still
+  Our powers to it, as to the line, the stone,                        70
+  Not to the stone, the line should be oppos'd.
+  We cannot keepe our constant course in vertue:
+  What is alike at all parts? every day
+  Differs from other, every houre and minute;
+  I, every thought in our false clock of life                         75
+  Oft times inverts the whole circumference:
+  We must be sometimes one, sometimes another.
+  Our bodies are but thick clouds to our soules,
+  Through which they cannot shine when they desire.
+  When all the starres, and even the sunne himselfe,                  80
+  Must stay the vapours times that he exhales
+  Before he can make good his beames to us,
+  O how can we, that are but motes to him,
+  Wandring at random in his ordered rayes,
+  Disperse our passions fumes, with our weak labours,                 85
+  That are more thick and black than all earths vapours?
+
+          _Enter Mont[surry]._
+
+  _Mont._ Good day, my love! what, up and ready too!
+
+  _Tam._ Both (my deare lord): not all this night made I
+  My selfe unready, or could sleep a wink.
+
+  _Mont._ Alas, what troubled my true love, my peace,                 90
+  From being at peace within her better selfe?
+  Or how could sleepe forbeare to seize thine eyes,
+  When he might challenge them as his just prise?
+
+  _Tam._ I am in no powre earthly, but in yours.
+  To what end should I goe to bed, my lord,                           95
+  That wholly mist the comfort of my bed?
+  Or how should sleepe possesse my faculties,
+  Wanting the proper closer of mine eyes?
+
+  _Mont._ Then will I never more sleepe night from thee:
+  All mine owne businesse, all the Kings affaires,                   100
+  Shall take the day to serve them; every night
+  Ile ever dedicate to thy delight.
+
+  _Tam._ Nay, good my lord, esteeme not my desires
+  Such doters on their humours that my judgement
+  Cannot subdue them to your worthier pleasure:                      105
+  A wives pleas'd husband must her object be
+  In all her acts, not her sooth'd fantasie.
+
+  _Mont._ Then come, my love, now pay those rites to sleepe
+  Thy faire eyes owe him: shall we now to bed?
+
+  _Tam._ O no, my lord! your holy frier sayes                        110
+  All couplings in the day that touch the bed
+  Adulterous are, even in the married;
+  Whose grave and worthy doctrine, well I know,
+  Your faith in him will liberally allow.
+
+  _Mont._ Hee's a most learned and religious man.                    115
+  Come to the Presence then, and see great D'Ambois
+  (Fortunes proud mushrome shot up in a night)
+  Stand like an Atlas under our Kings arme;
+  Which greatnesse with him Monsieur now envies
+  As bitterly and deadly as the Guise.                               120
+
+  _Tam._ What! he that was but yesterday his maker,
+  His raiser, and preserver?
+
+  _Mont._                    Even the same.
+  Each naturall agent works but to this end,
+  To render that it works on like it selfe;
+  Which since the Monsieur in his act on D'Ambois                    125
+  Cannot to his ambitious end effect,
+  But that (quite opposite) the King hath power
+  (In his love borne to D'Ambois) to convert
+  The point of Monsieurs aime on his owne breast,
+  He turnes his outward love to inward hate:                         130
+  A princes love is like the lightnings fume,
+  Which no man can embrace, but must consume.             _Exeunt._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Enter D'Ambois . . . pearle_. A, Bucy, Tamyra.
+
+         1-2  _Sweet . . . spice_. A omits.
+
+          28  _servile_. A, Goddesse.
+
+          34  _our one_. So in A: B omits _our_.
+
+          35  _selfe_. A, truth.
+
+          37  _one_. A, men.
+
+       45-61  _Now let . . . Descendit Frier and D'Amb[ois]_. A
+              omits.
+
+          92  _thine eies_. A, thy beauties.
+
+         118  _under our Kings arme_. A, underneath the King.
+
+
+  [ACTUS TERTII SCENA SECUNDA.
+
+  _A room in the Court._]
+
+
+          _Henry, D'Ambois, Monsieur, Guise, Dutches, Annabell,
+          Charlot, Attendants._
+
+  _Henry._ Speak home, my Bussy! thy impartiall words
+  Are like brave faulcons that dare trusse a fowle
+  Much greater than themselves; flatterers are kites
+  That check at sparrowes; thou shalt be my eagle,
+  And beare my thunder underneath thy wings:                           5
+  Truths words like jewels hang in th'eares of kings.
+
+  _Bussy_. Would I might live to see no Jewes hang there
+  In steed of jewels--sycophants, I meane,
+  Who use Truth like the Devill, his true foe,
+  Cast by the angell to the pit of feares,                            10
+  And bound in chaines; Truth seldome decks kings eares.
+  Slave flattery (like a rippiers legs rowl'd up
+  In boots of hay-ropes) with kings soothed guts
+  Swadled and strappl'd, now lives onely free.
+  O, tis a subtle knave; how like the plague                          15
+  Unfelt he strikes into the braine of man,
+  And rageth in his entrailes when he can,
+  Worse than the poison of a red hair'd man.
+
+  _Henr._ Fly at him and his brood! I cast thee off,
+  And once more give thee surname of mine eagle.                      20
+
+  _Buss._ Ile make you sport enough, then. Let me have
+  My lucerns too, or dogs inur'd to hunt
+  Beasts of most rapine, but to put them up,
+  And if I trusse not, let me not be trusted.
+  Shew me a great man (by the peoples voice,                          25
+  Which is the voice of God) that by his greatnesse
+  Bumbasts his private roofes with publique riches;
+  That affects royaltie, rising from a clapdish;
+  That rules so much more than his suffering King,
+  That he makes kings of his subordinate slaves:                      30
+  Himselfe and them graduate like woodmongers
+  Piling a stack of billets from the earth,
+  Raising each other into steeples heights;
+  Let him convey this on the turning props
+  Of Protean law, and (his owne counsell keeping)                     35
+  Keepe all upright--let me but hawlk at him,
+  Ile play the vulture, and so thump his liver
+  That (like a huge unlading Argosea)
+  He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
+  Shew me a clergie man that is in voice                              40
+  A lark of heaven, in heart a mowle of earth;
+  That hath good living, and a wicked life;
+  A temperate look, and a luxurious gut;
+  Turning the rents of his superfluous cures
+  Into your phesants and your partriches;                             45
+  Venting their quintessence as men read Hebrew--
+  Let me but hawlk at him, and like the other,
+  He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
+  Shew me a lawyer that turnes sacred law
+  (The equall rendrer of each man his owne,                           50
+  The scourge of rapine and extortion,
+  The sanctuary and impregnable defence
+  Of retir'd learning and besieged vertue)
+  Into a Harpy, that eates all but's owne,
+  Into the damned sinnes it punisheth,                                55
+  Into the synagogue of theeves and atheists;
+  Blood into gold, and justice into lust:--
+  Let me but hawlk at him, as at the rest,
+  He shall confesse all, and you then may hang him.
+
+          _Enter Mont-surrey, Tamira and Pero._
+
+  _Gui._ Where will you find such game as you would hawlk at?         60
+
+  _Buss._ Ile hawlk about your house for one of them.
+
+  _Gui._ Come, y'are a glorious ruffin and runne proud
+  Of the Kings headlong graces; hold your breath,
+  Or, by that poyson'd vapour, not the King
+  Shall back your murtherous valour against me.                       65
+
+  _Buss._ I would the King would make his presence free
+  But for one bout betwixt us: by the reverence
+  Due to the sacred space twixt kings and subjects,
+  Here would I make thee cast that popular purple
+  In which thy proud soule sits and braves thy soveraigne.            70
+
+  _Mons._ Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace!
+
+  _Buss._                                   Let him peace first
+  That made the first warre.
+
+  _Mons._                    He's the better man.
+
+  _Buss._ And, therefore, may doe worst?
+
+  _Mons._                                He has more titles.
+
+  _Buss._ So Hydra had more heads.
+
+  _Mons._                          He's greater knowne.
+
+  _Buss._ His greatnesse is the peoples, mine's mine owne.            75
+
+  _Mons._ He's noblier borne.
+
+  _Buss._                     He is not; I am noble,
+  And noblesse in his blood hath no gradation,
+  But in his merit.
+
+  _Gui._            Th'art not nobly borne,
+  But bastard to the Cardinall of Ambois.
+
+  _Buss._ Thou liest, proud Guiserd; let me flie, my Lord!            80
+
+  _Henr._ Not in my face, my eagle! violence flies
+  The sanctuaries of a princes eyes.
+
+  _Buss._ Still shall we chide, and fome upon this bit?
+  Is the Guise onely great in faction?
+  Stands he not by himselfe? Proves he th'opinion                     85
+  That mens soules are without them? Be a duke,
+  And lead me to the field.
+
+  _Guis._                   Come, follow me.
+
+  _Henr._ Stay them! stay, D'Ambois! Cosen Guise, I wonder
+  Your honour'd disposition brooks so ill
+  A man so good that only would uphold                                90
+  Man in his native noblesse, from whose fall
+  All our dissentions rise; that in himselfe
+  (Without the outward patches of our frailty,
+  Riches and honour) knowes he comprehends
+  Worth with the greatest. Kings had never borne                      95
+  Such boundlesse empire over other men,
+  Had all maintain'd the spirit and state of D'Ambois;
+  Nor had the full impartiall hand of Nature,
+  That all things gave in her originall
+  Without these definite terms of Mine and Thine,                    100
+  Beene turn'd unjustly to the hand of Fortune,
+  Had all preserv'd her in her prime like D'Ambois;
+  No envie, no disjunction had dissolv'd,
+  Or pluck'd one stick out of the golden faggot
+  In which the world of Saturne bound our lifes,                     105
+  Had all beene held together with the nerves,
+  The genius, and th'ingenious soule of D'Ambois.
+  Let my hand therefore be the Hermean rod
+  To part and reconcile, and so conserve you,
+  As my combin'd embracers and supporters.                           110
+
+  _Buss._ Tis our Kings motion, and we shall not seeme
+  To worst eies womanish, though we change thus soone
+  Never so great grudge for his greater pleasure.
+
+  _Gui._ I seale to that, and so the manly freedome,
+  That you so much professe, hereafter prove not                     115
+  A bold and glorious licence to deprave,
+  To me his hand shall hold the Hermean vertue
+  His grace affects, in which submissive signe
+  On this his sacred right hand I lay mine.
+
+  _Buss._ Tis well, my lord, and so your worthy greatnesse           120
+  Decline not to the greater insolence,
+  Nor make you think it a prerogative
+  To rack mens freedomes with the ruder wrongs,
+  My hand (stuck full of lawrell, in true signe
+  Tis wholly dedicate to righteous peace)                            125
+  In all submission kisseth th'other side.
+
+  _Henr._ Thanks to ye both: and kindly I invite ye
+  Both to a banquet where weele sacrifice
+  Full cups to confirmation of your loves;
+  At which (faire ladies) I entreat your presence;                   130
+  And hope you, madam, will take one carowse
+  For reconcilement of your lord and servant.
+
+  _Duchess._ If I should faile, my lord, some other lady
+  Would be found there to doe that for my servant.
+
+  _Mons._ Any of these here?
+
+  _Duch._                    Nay, I know not that.                   135
+
+  _Buss._ Think your thoughts like my mistresse, honour'd lady?
+
+  _Tamyra._ I think not on you, sir; y'are one I know not.
+
+  _Buss._ Cry you mercy, madam!
+
+  _Montsurry._                  Oh sir, has she met you?
+                                _Exeunt Henry, D'Amb[ois], Ladies._
+
+  _Mons._ What had my bounty drunk when it rais'd him?
+
+  _Gui._ Y'ave stuck us up a very worthy flag,                       140
+  That takes more winde than we with all our sailes.
+
+  _Mons._ O, so he spreds and flourishes.
+
+  _Gui._                                  He must downe;
+  Upstarts should never perch too neere a crowne.
+
+  _Mons._ Tis true, my lord; and as this doting hand
+  Even out of earth (like Juno) struck this giant,                   145
+  So Joves great ordinance shall be here implide
+  To strike him under th'AEtna of his pride.
+  To which work lend your hands, and let us cast
+  Where we may set snares for his ranging greatnes.
+  I think it best, amongst our greatest women:                       150
+  For there is no such trap to catch an upstart
+  As a loose downfall; for, you know, their falls
+  Are th'ends of all mens rising. If great men
+  And wise make scapes to please advantage,
+  Tis with a woman--women that woorst may                            155
+  Still hold mens candels: they direct and know
+  All things amisse in all men, and their women
+  All things amisse in them; through whose charm'd mouthes
+  We may see all the close scapes of the Court.
+  When the most royall beast of chase, the hart,                     160
+  Being old, and cunning in his layres and haunts,
+  Can never be discovered to the bow,
+  The peece, or hound--yet where, behind some queich,
+  He breaks his gall, and rutteth with his hinde,
+  The place is markt, and by his venery                              165
+  He still is taken. Shall we then attempt
+  The chiefest meane to that discovery here,
+  And court our greatest ladies chiefest women
+  With shewes of love, and liberall promises?
+  Tis but our breath. If something given in hand                     170
+  Sharpen their hopes of more, 'twill be well ventur'd.
+
+  _Gui._ No doubt of that: and 'tis the cunningst point
+  Of our devis'd investigation.
+
+  _Mons._                       I have broken
+  The yce to it already with the woman
+  Of your chast lady, and conceive good hope                         175
+  I shall wade thorow to some wished shore
+  At our next meeting.
+
+  _Mont._              Nay, there's small hope there.
+
+  _Gui._ Take say of her, my lord, she comes most fitly.
+
+  _Mons._ Starting back?
+
+          _Enter Charlot, Anable, Pero._
+
+  _Gui._ Y'are ingag'd indeed.                                       180
+
+  _Annable._ Nay pray, my lord, forbeare.
+
+  _Mont._ What, skittish, servant?
+
+  _An._ No, my lord, I am not so fit for your service.
+
+  _Charlotte._ Nay, pardon me now, my lord; my lady expects me.      185
+
+  _Gui._ Ile satisfie her expectation, as far as an unkle may.
+
+  _Mons._ Well said! a spirit of courtship of all
+  hands. Now, mine owne Pero, hast thou remembred                    190
+  me for the discovery I entreated thee
+  to make of thy mistresse? Speak boldly, and be
+  sure of all things I have sworne to thee.
+
+  _Pero._ Building on that assurance (my lord) I
+  may speak; and much the rather because my                          195
+  lady hath not trusted me with that I can tell
+  you; for now I cannot be said to betray her.
+
+  _Mons._ That's all one, so wee reach our
+  objects: forth, I beseech thee.
+
+  _Per._ To tell you truth, my lord, I have made                     200
+  a strange discovery.
+
+  _Mons._ Excellent Pero, thou reviv'st me; may I
+  sink quick to perdition if my tongue discover it!
+
+  _Per._ Tis thus, then: this last night my lord
+  lay forth, and I, watching my ladies sitting up,                   205
+  stole up at midnight from my pallat, and (having
+  before made a hole both through the wall and
+  arras to her inmost chamber) I saw D'Ambois
+  and her selfe reading a letter!
+
+  _Mons._ D'Ambois!                                                  210
+
+  _Per._ Even he, my lord.
+
+  _Mons._ Do'st thou not dreame, wench?
+
+  _Per._ I sweare he is the man.
+
+  _Mons._ The devill he is, and thy lady his dam!
+  Why this was the happiest shot that ever flewe;                    215
+  the just plague of hypocrisie level'd it. Oh, the
+  infinite regions betwixt a womans tongue and
+  her heart! is this our Goddesse of chastity? I
+  thought I could not be so sleighted, if she had
+  not her fraught besides, and therefore plotted this                220
+  with her woman, never dreaming of D'Amboys.
+  Deare Pero, I will advance thee for ever: but
+  tell me now--Gods pretious, it transformes mee
+  with admiration--sweet Pero, whom should she
+  trust with this conveyance? Or, all the dores                      225
+  being made sure, how should his conveyance be
+  made?
+
+  _Per._ Nay, my lord, that amazes me: I cannot
+  by any study so much as guesse at it.
+
+  _Mons._ Well, let's favour our apprehensions                       230
+  with forbearing that a little; for, if my heart
+  were not hoopt with adamant, the conceipt of
+  this would have burst it: but heark thee.             _Whispers._
+
+  _Mont._ I pray thee, resolve mee: the Duke
+  will never imagine that I am busie about's wife:                   235
+  hath D'Ambois any privy accesse to her?
+
+  _An._ No, my lord, D'Ambois neglects her (as
+  shee takes it) and is therefore suspicious that
+  either your lady, or the lady Beaupre, hath
+  closely entertain'd him.                                           240
+
+  _Mont._ Ber lady, a likely suspition, and very
+  neere the life--especially of my wife.
+
+  _Mons._ Come, we'l disguise all with seeming
+  onely to have courted.--Away, dry palm! sh'as
+  a livor as dry as a bisket; a man may goe a                        245
+  whole voyage with her, and get nothing but
+  tempests from her windpipe.
+
+  _Gui._ Here's one (I think) has swallowed a
+  porcupine, shee casts pricks from her tongue so.
+
+  _Mont._ And here's a peacock seemes to have                        250
+  devour'd one of the Alpes, she has so swelling
+  a spirit, & is so cold of her kindnes.
+
+  _Char._ We are no windfalls, my lord; ye must
+  gather us with the ladder of matrimony, or we'l
+  hang till we be rotten.                                            255
+
+  _Mons._ Indeed, that's the way to make ye right
+  openarses. But, alas, ye have no portions fit for
+  such husbands as we wish you.
+
+  _Per._ Portions, my lord! yes, and such portions
+  as your principality cannot purchase.                              260
+
+  _Mons._ What, woman, what are those portions?
+
+  _Per._ Riddle my riddle, my lord.
+
+  _Mons._ I, marry, wench, I think thy portion
+  is a right riddle; a man shall never finde it out:
+  but let's heare it.                                                265
+
+  _Per._ You shall, my lord.
+  _What's that, that being most rar's most cheap?
+  That when you sow, you never reap?
+  That when it growes most, most you [th]in it,
+  And still you lose it, when you win it?                            270
+  That when tis commonest, tis dearest,
+  And when tis farthest off, 'tis neerest?_
+
+  _Mons._ Is this your great portion?
+
+  _Per._ Even this, my lord.
+
+  _Mons._ Beleeve me, I cannot riddle it.                            275
+
+  _Per._ No, my lord; tis my chastity, which you
+  shall neither riddle nor fiddle.
+
+  _Mons._ Your chastity! Let me begin with the
+  end of it; how is a womans chastity neerest
+  man, when tis furthest off?                                        280
+
+  _Per._ Why, my lord, when you cannot get it,
+  it goes to th'heart on you; and that I think comes
+  most neere you: and I am sure it shall be farre
+  enough off. And so wee leave you to our mercies.  _Exeunt Women._
+
+  _Mons._ Farewell, riddle.                                          285
+
+  _Gui._ Farewell, medlar.
+
+  _Mont._ Farewell, winter plum.
+
+  _Mons._ Now, my lords, what fruit of our inquisition?
+  feele you nothing budding yet? Speak,
+  good my lord Montsurry.                                            290
+
+  _Mont._ Nothing but this: D'Ambois is thought
+  negligent in observing the Duchesse, and therefore
+  she is suspicious that your neece or my wife
+  closely entertaines him.
+
+  _Mons._ Your wife, my lord! Think you that                         295
+  possible?
+
+  _Mont._ Alas, I know she flies him like her
+  last houre.
+
+  _Mons._ Her last houre? Why that comes upon
+  her the more she flies it. Does D'Ambois so,                       300
+  think you?
+
+  _Mont._ That's not worth the answering. Tis
+  miraculous to think with what monsters womens
+  imaginations engrosse them when they are once
+  enamour'd, and what wonders they will work                         305
+  for their satisfaction. They will make a sheepe
+  valiant, a lion fearefull.
+
+  _Mons._ And an asse confident. Well, my lord,
+  more will come forth shortly; get you to the
+  banquet.                                                           310
+
+  _Gui._ Come, my lord, I have the blind side of
+  one of them.                        _Exit Guise cum Mont[surry]._
+
+  _Mons._ O the unsounded sea of womens bloods,
+  That when tis calmest, is most dangerous!
+  Not any wrinkle creaming in their faces,                           315
+  When in their hearts are Scylla and Caribdis,
+  Which still are hid in dark and standing foggs,
+  Where never day shines, nothing ever growes
+  But weeds and poysons that no states-man knowes;
+  Nor Cerberus ever saw the damned nookes                            320
+  Hid with the veiles of womens vertuous lookes.
+  But what a cloud of sulphur have I drawne
+  Up to my bosome in this dangerous secret!
+  Which if my hast with any spark should light
+  Ere D'Ambois were engag'd in some sure plot,                       325
+  I were blowne up; he would be, sure, my death.
+  Would I had never knowne it, for before
+  I shall perswade th'importance to Montsurry,
+  And make him with some studied stratagem
+  Train D'Ambois to his wreak, his maid may tell it;                 330
+  Or I (out of my fiery thirst to play
+  With the fell tyger up in darknesse tyed,
+  And give it some light) make it quite break loose.
+  I feare it, afore heaven, and will not see
+  D'Ambois againe, till I have told Montsurry,                       335
+  And set a snare with him to free my feares.
+  Whose there?
+
+          _Enter Maffe._
+
+  _Maffe._     My lord?
+
+  _Mons._               Goe, call the Count Montsurry,
+  And make the dores fast; I will speak with none
+  Till he come to me.
+
+  _Maf._              Well, my lord.                    _Exiturus._
+
+  _Mons._                            Or else
+  Send you some other, and see all the dores                         340
+  Made safe your selfe, I pray; hast, flie about it.
+
+  _Maf._ You'l speak with none but with the Count Montsurry?
+
+  _Mons._ With none but hee, except it be the Guise.
+
+  _Maf._ See, even by this there's one exception more;
+  Your Grace must be more firme in the command,                      345
+  Or else shall I as weakly execute.
+  The Guise shall speak with you?
+
+  _Mons._                         He shall, I say.
+
+  _Maf._ And Count Montsurry?
+
+  _Mons._                     I, and Count Montsurry.
+
+  _Maf._ Your Grace must pardon me, that I am bold
+  To urge the cleare and full sence of your pleasure;                350
+  Which when so ever I have knowne, I hope
+  Your Grace will say I hit it to a haire.
+
+  _Mons._ You have.
+
+  _Maf._            I hope so, or I would be glad--
+
+  _Mons._ I pray thee, get thee gone; thou art so tedious
+  In the strick't forme of all thy services                          355
+  That I had better have one negligent.
+  You hit my pleasure well, when D'Ambois hit you;
+  Did you not, think you?
+
+  _Maf._                  D'Ambois! why, my lord--
+
+  _Mons._ I pray thee, talk no more, but shut the dores:
+  Doe what I charge thee.
+
+  _Maf._                  I will my lord, and yet                    360
+  I would be glad the wrong I had of D'Ambois--
+
+  _Mons._ Precious! then it is a fate that plagues me
+  In this mans foolery; I may be murthered,
+  While he stands on protection of his folly.
+  Avant, about thy charge!
+
+  _Maf._                   I goe, my lord.--                         365
+  I had my head broke in his faithfull service;
+  I had no suit the more, nor any thanks,
+  And yet my teeth must still be hit with D'Ambois.
+  D'Ambois, my lord, shall know--
+
+  _Mons._                         The devill and D'Ambois!
+                                                      _Exit Maffe._
+  How am I tortur'd with this trusty foole!                          370
+  Never was any curious in his place
+  To doe things justly, but he was an asse:
+  We cannot finde one trusty that is witty,
+  And therefore beare their disproportion.
+  Grant, thou great starre, and angell of my life,                   375
+  A sure lease of it but for some few dayes,
+  That I may cleare my bosome of the snake
+  I cherisht there, and I will then defie
+  All check to it but Natures; and her altars
+  Shall crack with vessels crown'd with ev'ry liquor                 380
+  Drawn from her highest and most bloudy humors.
+  I feare him strangely; his advanced valour
+  Is like a spirit rais'd without a circle,
+  Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him,
+  And for whose fury he hath learnt no limit.                        385
+
+          _Enter Maffe hastily._
+
+  _Maf._ I cannot help it; what should I do more?
+  As I was gathering a fit guard to make
+  My passage to the dores, and the dores sure,
+  The man of bloud is enter'd.
+
+  _Mons._                      Rage of death!
+  If I had told the secret, and he knew it,                          390
+  Thus had I bin endanger'd.
+
+          _Enter D'Ambois._
+
+                             My sweet heart!
+  How now? what leap'st thou at?
+
+  _Bussy._                       O royall object!
+
+  _Mons._ Thou dream'st awake: object in th'empty aire!
+
+  _Buss._ Worthy the browes of Titan, worth his chaire.
+
+  _Mons._ Pray thee, what mean'st thou?
+
+  _Buss._                               See you not a crowne         395
+  Empalethe forehead of the great King Monsieur?
+
+  _Mons._ O, fie upon thee!
+
+  _Buss._                   Prince, that is the subject
+  Of all these your retir'd and sole discourses.
+
+  _Mons._ Wilt thou not leave that wrongfull supposition?
+
+  _Buss._ Why wrongfull to suppose the doubtlesse right              400
+  To the succession worth the thinking on?
+
+  _Mons._ Well, leave these jests! how I am over-joyed
+  With thy wish'd presence, and how fit thou com'st,
+  For, of mine honour, I was sending for thee.
+
+  _Buss._ To what end?
+
+  _Mons._              Onely for thy company,                        405
+  Which I have still in thought; but that's no payment
+  On thy part made with personall appearance.
+  Thy absence so long suffered oftentimes
+  Put me in some little doubt thou do'st not love me.
+  Wilt thou doe one thing therefore now sincerely?                   410
+
+  _Buss._ I, any thing--but killing of the King.
+
+  _Mons._ Still in that discord, and ill taken note?
+  How most unseasonable thou playest the cucko,
+  In this thy fall of friendship!
+
+  _Buss._                         Then doe not doubt
+  That there is any act within my nerves,                            415
+  But killing of the King, that is not yours.
+
+  _Mons._ I will not then; to prove which, by my love
+  Shewne to thy vertues, and by all fruits else
+  Already sprung from that still flourishing tree,
+  With whatsoever may hereafter spring,                              420
+  I charge thee utter (even with all the freedome
+  Both of thy noble nature and thy friendship)
+  The full and plaine state of me in thy thoughts.
+
+  _Buss._ What, utter plainly what I think of you?
+
+  _Mons._ Plaine as truth.                                           425
+
+  _Buss._ Why this swims quite against the stream of greatnes:
+  Great men would rather heare their flatteries,
+  And if they be not made fooles, are not wise.
+
+  _Mons._ I am no such great foole, and therefore charge thee
+  Even from the root of thy free heart display mee.                  430
+
+  _Buss._ Since you affect it in such serious termes,
+  If your selfe first will tell me what you think
+  As freely and as heartily of me,
+  I'le be as open in my thoughts of you.
+
+  _Mons._ A bargain, of mine honour! and make this,                  435
+  That prove we in our full dissection
+  Never so foule, live still the sounder friends.
+
+  _Buss._ What else, sir? come, pay me home, ile bide it bravely.
+
+  _Mons._ I will, I sweare. I think thee, then, a man
+  That dares as much as a wilde horse or tyger,                      440
+  As headstrong and as bloody; and to feed
+  The ravenous wolfe of thy most caniball valour
+  (Rather than not employ it) thou would'st turne
+  Hackster to any whore, slave to a Jew,
+  Or English usurer, to force possessions                            445
+  (And cut mens throats) of morgaged estates;
+  Or thou would'st tire thee like a tinkers strumpet,
+  And murther market folks; quarrell with sheepe,
+  And runne as mad as Ajax; serve a butcher;
+  Doe any thing but killing of the King.                             450
+  That in thy valour th'art like other naturalls
+  That have strange gifts in nature, but no soule
+  Diffus'd quite through, to make them of a peece,
+  But stop at humours, that are more absurd,
+  Childish and villanous than that hackster, whore,                  455
+  Slave, cut-throat, tinkers bitch, compar'd before;
+  And in those humours would'st envie, betray,
+  Slander, blaspheme, change each houre a religion,
+  Doe any thing, but killing of the King:
+  That in thy valour (which is still the dunghill,                   460
+  To which hath reference all filth in thy house)
+  Th'art more ridiculous and vaine-glorious
+  Than any mountibank, and impudent
+  Than any painted bawd; which not to sooth,
+  And glorifie thee like a Jupiter Hammon,                           465
+  Thou eat'st thy heart in vinegar, and thy gall
+  Turns all thy blood to poyson, which is cause
+  Of that toad-poole that stands in thy complexion,
+  And makes thee with a cold and earthy moisture,
+  (Which is the damme of putrifaction)                               470
+  As plague to thy damn'd pride, rot as thou liv'st:
+  To study calumnies and treacheries;
+  To thy friends slaughters like a scrich-owle sing,
+  And to all mischiefes--but to kill the King.
+
+  _Buss._ So! have you said?
+
+  _Mons._                    How thinkest thou? Doe I flatter?       475
+  Speak I not like a trusty friend to thee?
+
+  _Buss._ That ever any man was blest withall.
+  So here's for me! I think you are (at worst)
+  No devill, since y'are like to be no King;
+  Of which with any friend of yours Ile lay                          480
+  This poore stillado here gainst all the starres,
+  I, and 'gainst all your treacheries, which are more:
+  That you did never good, but to doe ill,
+  But ill of all sorts, free and for it selfe:
+  That (like a murthering peece making lanes in armies,              485
+  The first man of a rank, the whole rank falling)
+  If you have wrong'd one man, you are so farre
+  From making him amends that all his race,
+  Friends, and associates fall into your chace:
+  That y'are for perjuries the very prince                           490
+  Of all intelligencers; and your voice
+  Is like an easterne winde, that, where it flies,
+  Knits nets of catterpillars, with which you catch
+  The prime of all the fruits the kingdome yeelds:
+  That your politicall head is the curst fount                       495
+  Of all the violence, rapine, cruelty,
+  Tyrannie, & atheisme flowing through the realme:
+  That y'ave a tongue so scandalous, 'twill cut
+  The purest christall, and a breath that will
+  Kill to that wall a spider; you will jest                          500
+  With God, and your soule to the Devill tender
+  For lust; kisse horror, and with death engender:
+  That your foule body is a Lernean fenne
+  Of all the maladies breeding in all men:
+  That you are utterly without a soule;                              505
+  And for your life, the thred of that was spunne
+  When Clotho slept, and let her breathing rock
+  Fall in the durt; and Lachesis still drawes it,
+  Dipping her twisting fingers in a boule
+  Defil'd, and crown'd with vertues forced soule:                    510
+  And lastly (which I must for gratitude
+  Ever remember) that of all my height
+  And dearest life you are the onely spring,
+  Onely in royall hope to kill the King.
+
+  _Mons._ Why, now I see thou lov'st me! come to the banquet!
+                                                          _Exeunt._  515
+
+          _Finis Actus Tertii._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Henry . . . Attendants_. A, _Henry, D'Ambois,
+              Monsieur, Guise, Mont., Elenor, Tam., Pero_.
+
+           1  _my_. A; B omits.
+
+           4  _sparrowes_. A, nothing.
+
+          16  _man_. A, truth.
+
+          29  _than_. So in A; B, by.
+
+          53  _besieged_. A, oppressed.
+
+          58  _the rest_. A, the tother.
+
+          67  _bout_. A, charge.
+
+       71-72  Three lines in Qq, i.e. _Peace . . . thee peace_ |
+              _Let . . . warre_ | _He's . . . man_.
+
+          76  _noblier_. Emend. ed. Qq, nobly; see note, p. 154.
+
+          88  _Stay . . . D'Ambois_. B, Stay them, stay D'Ambois.
+
+          89  _honour'd_. A, equall.
+
+          96  _empire_. A, eminence.
+
+         104  _one stick out_. A, out one sticke.
+
+         105  _bound our lifes_. A, was compris'd.
+
+         107  _ingenious_. A, ingenuous.
+
+         117  _hold_. A, proove. _vertue_. A, rodde.
+
+         121  _Decline not to_. A, Engender not.
+
+     131-138  _And hope . . . D'Amb[ois], Ladies_. Omitted in A,
+              which after 130 has: _Exeunt Henry, D'Amb., Ely, Ta._
+
+         140  _worthy_. A, proper.
+
+         149  _ranging_. A, gadding.
+
+         153  _for, you know_. A, and indeed.
+
+     160-161  _the hart, Being old, and cunning in his_. A, being
+              old, And cunning in his choice of.
+
+     163-164  _where . . . his hinde_. A has:--
+
+                      Where his custome is
+                To beat his vault, and he ruts with his hinde.
+
+         168  _chiefest_. A, greatest.
+
+         172  _the cunningst_. A, an excellent.
+
+     173-177  _I have broken . . . hope there_. A has:--
+
+                I have already broke the ice, my lord,
+                With the most trusted woman of your Countesse,
+                And hope I shall wade through to our discovery.
+
+         178  _Gui._ A, _Mont._ omitting the speech _Nay . . .
+              there_.
+
+         179  _Starting back_. Omitted in A, which instead
+              continues Montsurry's speech with: And we will to the
+              other.
+
+         180  _indeed_. A omits.
+
+         185  _Nay_. A, Pray.
+
+     189-193  _Well said . . . to thee_. Printed in doggerel form
+              in Qq, the lines ending with _hands_, _me_,
+              _mistresse_, _thee_.
+
+         192  _of_. A, concerning.
+
+         193  _sworne to thee_. A, promised.
+
+         194  _that assurance_. A, that you have sworne.
+
+     198-199  _so wee reach our objects_. A, so it bee not to one
+              that will betray thee.
+
+         202  _Excellent . . . me_. So punctuated by ed.; A,
+              Excellent Pero thou reviv'st me; B, Excellent! Pero
+              thou reviv'st me.
+
+         203  _to perdition_. A, into earth heere.
+
+         205  _watching_. A, wondring.
+
+         206  _stole up_. A, stole.
+
+         209  _her selfe reading a letter_. A, she set close at a
+              banquet.
+
+         213  _I sweare_. A, No, my lord.
+
+     215-216  _Why this . . . Oh, the_. A omits, possibly by
+              mistake.
+
+         220  _fraught_. A, freight.
+
+         221  _never dreaming of D'Amboys_. A omits.
+
+         225  _this_. A, his.
+
+         226  _should_. A, could.
+
+         227  _made_. A, performed.
+
+              _Whispers_. A omits.
+
+         233  Between this line and l. 234 A inserts:--
+
+                _Char._ I sweare to your Grace, all that I can
+                    conjecture touching my
+                lady, your neece, is a strong affection she beares
+                    to the English Mylor.
+
+                _Gui._ All, quod you? tis enough I assure you; but
+                    tell me.
+
+         242  _life_--: between this word and _especially_ A
+              inserts: if she marks it.
+
+         243  _disguise_. A, put off.
+
+         247  _from_. A, at.
+
+         253  _are_. A, be.
+
+         269  _[th]in_. Emend. ed; Qq, in.
+
+         273  _great_. A omits.
+
+         279  _it_. A, you.
+
+         284  _wee_. A, I. _our mercies_. A, my mercy.
+
+         303  _miraculous_. A, horrible.
+
+         308  _Well, my lord_. A, My lord, tis true, and.
+
+     311-312  _Come . . . of them_. A omits.
+
+         317  _dark and standing foggs_. A, monster-formed cloudes.
+
+     322-336  _But what . . . feares_. Omitted in A, which has
+              instead:--
+
+                I will conceale all yet, and give more time
+                To D'Ambois triall, now upon my hooke;
+                He awes my throat; else, like Sybillas cave,
+                It should breath oracles; I feare him strangely,
+                And may resemble his advanced valour
+                Unto a spirit rais'd without a circle,
+                Endangering him that ignorantly rais'd him,
+                And for whose furie he hath learn'd no limit.
+
+     337-391  _Whose there . . . sweet heart_! A omits, though
+              382-5, with some variations, appear as 326
+              (half-line)--330 in B. Cf. preceding note.
+
+         358  _D'Ambois . . . lord_. So punctuated by ed.; B has:
+              D'Ambois! why my lord?
+
+         394  _browes_. A, head.
+
+         397  _Prince_. A, Sir.
+
+     400-408  _Why wrongfull . . . oftentimes_. A omits.
+
+         409  _Put me in some little doubt_. A, This still hath
+              made me doubt.
+
+         410  _therefore now_. A, for me then.
+
+     413-414  _How . . . friendship_. A omits.
+
+     414-416  _Then . . . not yours_. Omitted in A, which has
+              instead: Come, doe not doubt me, and command mee all
+              things.
+
+         417  _to prove which, by_. A, and now by all.
+
+         419  _still flourishing tree_. A, affection.
+
+         420  _With . . . spring_. A omits.
+
+         425  _Plaine as truth_. A omits.
+
+         438  _pay me home, ile bide it bravely_. A, begin, and
+              speake me simply.
+
+         447  _strumpet_. A, wife.
+
+         460  _thy_. A, that. _the_. A, my.
+
+         461  _hath reference_. A, I carrie.
+
+         499  _The purest_. A, A perfect.
+
+
+
+
+  ACTUS QUARTI SCENA PRIMA.
+
+  [_The Banquetting-Hall in the Court._]
+
+
+          _Henry, Monsieur with a letter, Guise, Montsurry, Bussy,
+          Elynor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Anable, Pyrha,
+          with foure Pages._
+
+  _Henry._ Ladies, ye have not done our banquet right,
+  Nor lookt upon it with those cheereful rayes
+  That lately turn'd your breaths to flouds of gold;
+  Your looks, me thinks, are not drawne out with thoughts
+  So cleare and free as heretofore, but foule                          5
+  As if the thick complexions of men
+  Govern'd within them.
+
+  _Bussy._              'Tis not like, my lord,
+  That men in women rule, but contrary;
+  For as the moone, of all things God created
+  Not only is the most appropriate image                              10
+  Or glasse to shew them how they wax and wane,
+  But in her height and motion likewise beares
+  Imperiall influences that command
+  In all their powers, and make them wax and wane:
+  So women, that, of all things made of nothing,                      15
+  Are the most perfect idols of the moone,
+  Or still-unwean'd sweet moon-calves with white faces,
+  Not only are paterns of change to men,
+  But as the tender moon-shine of their beauties
+  Cleares or is cloudy, make men glad or sad.                         20
+  So then they rule in men, not men in them.
+
+  _Monsieur._ But here the moons are chang'd (as the King notes)
+  And either men rule in them, or some power
+  Beyond their voluntary faculty,
+  For nothing can recover their lost faces.                           25
+
+  _Montsurry._ None can be alwayes one: our griefes and joyes
+  Hold severall scepters in us, and have times
+  For their divided empires: which griefe now in them
+  Doth prove as proper to his diadem.
+
+  _Buss._ And griefe's a naturall sicknesse of the bloud,             30
+  That time to part asks, as his comming had;
+  Onely sleight fooles griev'd suddenly are glad.
+  A man may say t'a dead man, "be reviv'd,"
+  As well as to one sorrowfull, "be not griev'd."
+  And therefore (princely mistresse) in all warres                    35
+  Against these base foes that insult on weaknesse,
+  And still fight hous'd behind the shield of Nature,
+  Of priviledge law, treachery, or beastly need,
+  Your servant cannot help; authority here
+  Goes with corruption, something like some states                    40
+  That back woorst men; valour to them must creepe
+  That to themselves left would feare him asleepe.
+
+  _Duchess._ Ye all take that for granted that doth rest
+  Yet to be prov'd; we all are as we were,
+  As merry and as free in thought as ever.                            45
+
+  _Guise._ And why then can ye not disclose your thoughts?
+
+  _Tamyra._ Me thinks the man hath answer'd for us well.
+
+  _Mons._ The man! why, madam, d'ee not know his name?
+
+  _Tam._ Man is a name of honour for a King:
+  Additions take away from each chiefe thing.                         50
+  The schoole of modesty not to learne learnes dames:
+  They sit in high formes there that know mens names.
+
+  _Mons._ [_to Bussy._] Heark, sweet heart, here's a bar set to
+      your valour!
+  It cannot enter here, no, not to notice
+  Of what your name is; your great eagles beak                        55
+  (Should you flie at her) had as good encounter
+  An Albion cliffe as her more craggy liver.
+
+  _Buss._ Ile not attempt her, sir; her sight and name
+  (By which I onely know her) doth deter me.
+
+  _Henr._ So doe they all men else.
+
+  _Mons._                           You would say so,                 60
+  If you knew all.
+
+  _Tam._ Knew all, my lord? what meane you?
+
+  _Mons._ All that I know, madam.
+
+  _Tam._                          That you know! Speak it.
+
+  _Mons._ No, tis enough I feele it.
+
+  _Henr._                            But me thinks
+  Her courtship is more pure then heretofore.
+  True courtiers should be modest, and not nice;                      65
+  Bold, but not impudent; pleasure love, not vice.
+
+  _Mons._ Sweet heart, come hither! what if one should make
+  Horns at Mountsurry, would it not strike him jealous
+  Through all the proofes of his chaste ladies vertues?
+
+  _Buss._ If he be wise, not.                                         70
+
+  _Mons._ What, not if I should name the gardener
+  That I would have him think hath grafted him?
+
+  _Buss._ So the large licence that your greatnesse uses
+  To jest at all men may be taught indeed
+  To make a difference of the grounds you play on,                    75
+  Both in the men you scandall and the matter.
+
+  _Mons._ As how, as how?
+
+  _Buss._                 Perhaps led with a traine
+  Where you may have your nose made lesse and slit,
+  Your eyes thrust out.
+
+  _Mons._               Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace!
+  Who dares doe that? the brother of his King!                        80
+
+  _Buss._ Were your King brother in you; all your powers
+  (Stretcht in the armes of great men and their bawds)
+  Set close downe by you; all your stormy lawes
+  Spouted with lawyers mouthes, and gushing bloud,
+  Like to so many torrents; all your glories                          85
+  Making you terrible, like enchanted flames,
+  Fed with bare cockscombs and with crooked hammes,
+  All your prerogatives, your shames, and tortures,
+  All daring heaven and opening hell about you--
+  Were I the man ye wrong'd so and provok'd,                          90
+  (Though ne're so much beneath you) like a box tree
+  I would out of the roughnesse of my root
+  Ramme hardnesse in my lownesse, and, like death
+  Mounted on earthquakes, I would trot through all
+  Honors and horrors, thorow foule and faire,                         95
+  And from your whole strength tosse you into the aire.
+
+  _Mons._ Goe, th'art a devill! such another spirit
+  Could not be still'd from all th'Armenian dragons.
+  O, my loves glory! heire to all I have
+  (That's all I can say, and that all I sweare)                      100
+  If thou out-live me, as I know thou must,
+  Or else hath Nature no proportion'd end
+  To her great labours; she hath breath'd a minde
+  Into thy entrails, of desert to swell
+  Into another great Augustus Caesar;                                 105
+  Organs and faculties fitted to her greatnesse;
+  And should that perish like a common spirit,
+  Nature's a courtier and regards no merit.
+
+  _Henr._ Here's nought but whispering with us; like a calme
+  Before a tempest, when the silent ayre                             110
+  Layes her soft eare close to the earth to hearken
+  For that she feares steales on to ravish her;
+  Some fate doth joyne our eares to heare it comming.
+  Come, my brave eagle, let's to covert flie!
+  I see almighty AEther in the smoak                                  115
+  Of all his clowds descending, and the skie
+  Hid in the dim ostents of tragedy.
+                           _Exit Henr[y] with D'Amb[ois] & Ladies._
+
+  _Guis._ Now stirre the humour, and begin the brawle.
+
+  _Mont._ The King and D'Ambois now are growne all one.
+
+  _Mons._ Nay, they are two, my lord.
+
+  _Mont._                             How's that?
+
+  _Mons._                                         No more.           120
+
+  _Mont._ I must have more, my lord.
+
+  _Mons._                             What, more than two?
+
+  _Mont._ How monstrous is this!
+
+  _Mons._                        Why?
+
+  _Mont._                             You make me horns.
+
+  _Mons._ Not I, it is a work without my power,
+  Married mens ensignes are not made with fingers;
+  Of divine fabrique they are, not mens hands:                       125
+  Your wife, you know, is a meere Cynthia,
+  And she must fashion hornes out of her nature.
+
+  _Mont._ But doth she? dare you charge her? speak, false prince.
+
+  _Mons._ I must not speak, my lord; but if you'l use
+  The learning of a noble man, and read,                             130
+  Here's something to those points. Soft, you must pawne
+  Your honour, having read it, to return it.
+
+          _Enter Tamira, Pero._
+
+  _Mont._ Not I:--I pawne mine honour for a paper!
+
+  _Mons._ You must not buy it under.   _Exeunt Guise and Monsieur._
+
+  _Mont._                            Keepe it then,
+  And keepe fire in your bosome!
+
+  _Tam._                         What sayes he?                      135
+
+  _Mont._ You must make good the rest.
+
+  _Tam._                                How fares my lord?
+  Takes my love any thing to heart he sayes?
+
+  _Mont._ Come, y'are a--
+
+  _Tam._                  What, my lord?
+
+  _Mont._                                The plague of Herod
+  Feast in his rotten entrailes!
+
+  _Tam._                         Will you wreak
+  Your angers just cause given by him on me?                         140
+
+  _Mont._ By him?
+
+  _Tam._          By him, my lord. I have admir'd
+  You could all this time be at concord with him,
+  That still hath plaid such discords on your honour.
+
+  _Mont._ Perhaps tis with some proud string of my wives.
+
+  _Tam._ How's that, my lord?
+
+  _Mont._                     Your tongue will still admire,         145
+  Till my head be the miracle of the world.
+
+  _Tam._ O woe is me!                        _She seemes to sound._
+
+  _Pero._             What does your lordship meane?
+  Madam, be comforted; my lord but tries you.
+  Madam! Help, good my lord, are you not mov'd?
+  Doe your set looks print in your words your thoughts?              150
+  Sweet lord, cleare up those eyes,
+  Unbend that masking forehead. Whence is it
+  You rush upon her with these Irish warres,
+  More full of sound then hurt? But it is enough;
+  You have shot home, your words are in her heart;                   155
+  She has not liv'd to beare a triall now.
+
+  _Mont._ Look up, my love, and by this kisse receive
+  My soule amongst thy spirits, for supply
+  To thine chac'd with my fury.
+
+  _Tam._                        O, my lord,
+  I have too long liv'd to heare this from you.                      160
+
+  _Mont._ 'Twas from my troubled bloud, and not from me.
+  I know not how I fare; a sudden night
+  Flowes through my entrailes, and a headlong chaos
+  Murmurs within me, which I must digest,
+  And not drowne her in my confusions,                               165
+  That was my lives joy, being best inform'd.
+  Sweet, you must needs forgive me, that my love
+  (Like to a fire disdaining his suppression)
+  Rag'd being discouraged; my whole heart is wounded
+  When any least thought in you is but touch't,                      170
+  And shall be till I know your former merits,
+  Your name and memory, altogether crave
+  In just oblivion their eternall grave;
+  And then, you must heare from me, there's no meane
+  In any passion I shall feele for you.                              175
+  Love is a rasor, cleansing, being well us'd,
+  But fetcheth blood still, being the least abus'd.
+  To tell you briefly all--the man that left me
+  When you appear'd, did turne me worse than woman,
+  And stab'd me to the heart, thus, with his fingers.                180
+
+  _Tam._ O happy woman! comes my stain from him,
+  It is my beauty, and that innocence proves
+  That slew Chymaera, rescued Peleus
+  From all the savage beasts in Peleon,
+  And rais'd the chaste Athenian prince from hell:                   185
+  All suffering with me, they for womens lusts,
+  I for a mans, that the Egean stable
+  Of his foule sinne would empty in my lap.
+  How his guilt shunn'd me! Sacred innocence
+  That, where thou fear'st, are dreadfull, and his face              190
+  Turn'd in flight from thee that had thee in chace!
+  Come, bring me to him. I will tell the serpent
+  Even to his venom'd teeth (from whose curst seed
+  A pitcht field starts up 'twixt my lord and me)
+  That his throat lies, and he shall curse his fingers               195
+  For being so govern'd by his filthy soule.
+
+  _Mont._ I know not if himselfe will vaunt t'have beene
+  The princely author of the slavish sinne,
+  Or any other; he would have resolv'd me,
+  Had you not come, not by his word, but writing,                    200
+  Would I have sworne to give it him againe,
+  And pawn'd mine honour to him for a paper.
+
+  _Tam._ See, how he flies me still! tis a foule heart
+  That feares his owne hand. Good my lord, make haste
+  To see the dangerous paper: papers hold                            205
+  Oft-times the formes and copies of our soules,
+  And (though the world despise them) are the prizes
+  Of all our honors; make your honour then
+  A hostage for it, and with it conferre
+  My neerest woman here in all she knowes;                           210
+  Who (if the sunne or Cerberus could have seene
+  Any staine in me) might as well as they.
+  And, Pero, here I charge thee, by my love,
+  And all proofes of it (which I might call bounties);
+  By all that thou hast seene seeme good in mee,                     215
+  And all the ill which thou shouldst spit from thee;
+  By pity of the wound this touch hath given me,
+  Not as thy mistresse now, but a poore woman
+  To death given over, rid me of my paines;
+  Powre on thy powder; cleare thy breast of me.                      220
+  My lord is only here: here speak thy worst;
+  Thy best will doe me mischiefe; if thou spar'st me,
+  Never shine good thought on thy memory!
+  Resolve my lord, and leave me desperate.
+
+  _Per._ My lord!--my lord hath plaid a prodigals part,              225
+  To break his stock for nothing, and an insolent,
+  To cut a Gordian when he could not loose it.
+  What violence is this, to put true fire
+  To a false train; to blow up long crown'd peace
+  With sudden outrage; and beleeve a man,                            230
+  Sworne to the shame of women, 'gainst a woman
+  Borne to their honours? But I will to him.
+
+  _Tam._ No, I will write (for I shall never more
+  Meet with the fugitive) where I will defie him,
+  Were he ten times the brother of my King.                          235
+  To him, my lord,--and ile to cursing him.               _Exeunt._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _with a letter_. A omits.
+
+           5  _foule_. A, fare.
+
+          16  _idols_. A, images.
+
+          21  _So then . . . in them_. A omits.
+
+          24  _faculty_. A, motions.
+
+       26-29  _None . . . diadem_. A assigns these lines to Bussy.
+
+          28  _divided empires_. A, predominance.
+
+          29  _prove_. A, claime.
+
+          38  _priviledge_. A, tyrannous.
+
+          65  _and_. A, but.
+
+       70-78  _If he . . . and slit_. Omitted in A, which has
+              instead:--
+
+                _Buss._ No, I thinke not.
+
+                _Mons._                   Not if I nam'd the man
+                With whom I would make him suspicious
+                His wife hath arm'd his forehead!
+
+                _Buss._                           So you might
+                Have your great nose made lesse indeede, and slit.
+
+       77-79  In B four lines, broken at (second) _how_, _have_,
+              _out_, _thee peace_.
+
+          92  _roughnesse_. A, toughnesse.
+
+          96  _the_. A omits.
+
+         103  _minde_. A, spirit.
+
+         104  _desert_. A, effect.
+
+         112  _steales on to ravish_. A, is comming to afflict.
+
+              _Enter . . . Pero_, placed in A after _under_ in 134.
+
+              _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 o 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 Cythaeron 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._
+
+  _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 Sabaean 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.
+
+              _Pistolls shot within._ Inserted before 72 in B; A
+              omits.
+
+       90-93  _And if . . . groomes_. A omits.
+
+              _She offers to help him._ Inserted before 95 in B. A
+              omits.
+
+         119  _Now_. A, And.
+
+         135  _in_. A, gainst.
+
+         136  _drifts of_. A, endless.
+
+         146  _struck_. Emend. ed.; Qq, stuck.
+
+              _Moritur_. A omits.
+
+     147-153  _Farewell . . . humanity_. These lines are placed by
+              A at the close of the Scene, and are preceded by
+              three lines which B omits:--
+
+                My terrors are strook inward, and no more
+                My pennance will allow they shall enforce
+                Earthly afflictions but upon my selfe.
+
+         147  _reliques_. A, relicts.
+
+         149  _Joine flames with Hercules_. So in A; B, Jove flames
+              with her rules.
+
+         151  _chrystall_. A, continent.
+
+         154  _Son . . . soule_. Before this line B has _Frier_.
+
+         155  _Rues . . . heaven_. After this line A inserts:--
+
+                Since thy revengefull spirit hath rejected
+                The charitie it commands, and the remission
+                To serve and worship the blind rage of bloud.
+
+         163  _kneeling_. A, sitting.
+
+         173  _No place . . . compriseth_. After this line A
+              inserts:--
+
+                My soule more scruple breeds than my bloud sinne,
+                Vertue imposeth more than any stepdame.
+
+     186-187  _Come . . . plaints_. A omits.
+
+         192  [_are_]. Added by Dilke; Qq omit.
+
+         196  _enterd_. A; B, enterr'd.
+
+         201  _a_. A omits.
+
+
+
+
+  EPILOGUE
+
+
+  With many hands you have seene D'Ambois slaine;
+  Yet by your grace he may revive againe,
+  And every day grow stronger in his skill
+  To please, as we presume he is in will.
+  The best deserving actors of the time                                5
+  Had their ascents, and by degrees did clime
+  To their full height, a place to studie due.
+  To make him tread in their path lies in you;
+  Hee'le not forget his makers, but still prove
+  His thankfulnesse, as you encrease your love.                       10
+
+          _FINIS._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Epilogue_ Not found in A.
+
+
+
+
+Notes To Bussy D'Ambois
+
+_For the meaning of single words see the Glossary._
+
+
+=Prologue.= The allusions in these lines can be only partially
+explained. The play had evidently been performed, not long before 1641,
+by a company which had not possessed original acting rights in it. The
+performance had been successful (cf. ll. 3-4 "the grace of late It did
+receive"), and the "King's men," while not claiming a monopoly in it,
+nor seeking to detract from their rivals' merits, felt bound to revive
+the play on their own account, lest they should seem to be letting their
+claim go by default. It is possible that in ll. 11-12, they refer to a
+performance that in vindication of this claim they had given at Court,
+while, as further evidence of their priority of interest, they remind
+the audience of the actors belonging to the company who had appeared in
+the title-role. Nathaniel Field (l. 15), born in 1587, had as a boy been
+one of the "Children of the Queen's Revels," and had performed in
+Jonson's _Cynthia's Revels_, 1600, and _Poetaster_, 1601. He seems to
+have joined the King's players soon after 1614, and his name appears in
+the list of "the principall actors in all these playes" prefixed to the
+first Shakespearean Folio of 1623. Not long after this period, Field,
+who by his _Woman is a Weathercock_ (1612) and his _Amends for Ladies_
+(1618) had made a reputation as a dramatist as well as an actor, is
+believed to have retired from the stage, though he lived till 1633. If,
+however, he did not appear as Bussy till after 1614, when the play had
+already been at least seven years, perhaps considerably longer, on the
+boards, it can scarcely be said with truth that his "action first did
+give it name" (l. 16). His successor in the part, whom the "gray beard"
+(l. 18) of advancing years had now disqualified, cannot be identified;
+but the "third man" (l. 21) is probably Ilyard Swanston, who, according
+to Fleay (_Biog. Chron. of Drama_, vol. I, p. 60), was one of the
+"King's men" from 1625 to 1642. His impersonation of Bussy is
+favourably referred to by Edmund Gayton in his _Festivous Notes upon Don
+Quixote_ (1654), p. 25 and his previous role of "Richard" (l. 23) may
+have been that of Ricardo in Massinger's _Picture_, which he had played
+in 1629 (cf. Phelps, _Geo. Chap._ p. 125). The earlier editors thought
+that Charles Hart was here alluded to, but Wright in his _Historia
+Histrionica_ states it was the part of the Duchess in Shirley's
+_Cardinal_, licensed 1641, that first gave him any reputation. Hence he
+cannot at this date have performed Bussy; his fame in the part was made
+after the Restoration (cf. Introduction, p. xxv).
+
+=5-6=, 1-33. =Fortune . . . port.= This opening speech of Bussy
+illustrates the difficult compression of Chapman's style and the
+diversion of his thought from strictly logical sequence by his excessive
+use of simile. He begins (ll. 1-4) by emphasising the paradoxical
+character of human affairs, in which only those escape poverty who are
+abnormal, while it is among the necessitous that worthily typical
+representatives of the race must be sought. The former class, under the
+designation of "great men," are then (after a parenthetical comparison
+with cedars waxing amidst tempests) likened to statuaries who are
+satisfied if the exterior of the Colossus they are creating is
+sufficiently imposing; they are then (by an awkward transition of the
+imagery) likened to the statues themselves (l. 15) "heroique" in form
+but "morter, flint, and lead" within. Chapman's meaning is here obvious
+enough, but it is a singular canon of aesthetics that estimates the worth
+of a statue by the materials out of which it is made. In l. 18 a new
+thought is started, that of the transitoriness of life, and the
+perishable nature of its gifts, and as the ocean-voyager needs a
+stay-at-home pilot to steer him safely into port, so the adventurer in
+"the waves of glassie glory" (ll. 29-30) is bidden look to "vertue" for
+guidance to his desired haven--not exactly the conclusion to be expected
+from the opening lines of the speech.
+
+=6=, 23. =To put a girdle . . . world.= The editors all compare _Mid.
+Night's Dream_, I, 1, 175, which Chapman probably had in mind.
+
+=7=, 34. =in numerous state.= A play of words, apparently, on two senses
+of the phrase: (1) the series of numbers, (2) a populous kingdom.
+
+=8=, 59. =gurmundist.= The _N. E. D._ quotes no other example of the
+form "gurmundist" for "gurmond" = "gourmand."
+
+=9=, 86-87. =set my looks In an eternall brake:= keep my countenance
+perpetually immoveable. A "brake" is a piece of framework for holding
+something steady.
+
+=15=, 187. =I am a poet.= This is historically true. A poem of some
+length, _Stances faictes par M. de Bussy_, is quoted by Joubert in his
+_Bussy D'Amboise_, pp. 205-09.
+
+=15=, 194-95. =chaine And velvet jacket:= the symbols of a steward's
+office.
+
+=16=, 207. =his woodden dagger.= The Elizabethan jester carried the
+wooden dagger or sword, which was often one of the properties of the
+"Vice" in the later Moralities and the Interludes.
+
+=17=, =Pyra.= Though this character is mentioned here and elsewhere
+among the _Dramatis Personae_, she takes no part in the dialogue.
+
+=17=, 2. _that English virgin:_ apparently Annable, who is the Duchess
+of Guise's lady-in-waiting (cf. III, 2, 234-40).
+
+=18=, 15. =what's that to:= what has that to do with.
+
+=18=, 16-27. =Assure you . . . confusion to it.= With this encomium on
+Elizabeth and her Court compare Crequi's account of Byron's compliments
+to the Queen (_Byron's Conspiracie_, IV, 1).
+
+=19=, 36. =Which we must not affect:= which change, however, we must not
+desire to take place.
+
+=19=, 39-43. =No question . . . as they.= The travelled Englishman's
+affectation of foreign attire is a stock theme of Elizabethan satire.
+Cf. (e. g.) _Merch. of Ven._ I, 2, 78-81.
+
+=19=, 44. =travell.= A pun on the two senses, (1) journey, (2) labour,
+the latter of which is now distinguished by the spelling "travail."
+
+=21=, 85. =Tis leape yeare.= F. G. Fleay (_Biog. Chron._ I, 59)
+considers that this refers "to the date of production, as Bussy's
+introduction at Court was in 1569, not a Leap Year," and that it "fixes
+the time of representation to 1604." See _Introduction_.
+
+=22=, 110. =the groome-porters.= Chapman here transfers to the French
+Court an official peculiar to the English Royal Household till his
+abolition under George III. The function of the groom-porter was to
+furnish cards and dice for all gaming at Court, and to decide disputes
+arising at play.
+
+=23=, 123. =the guiserd.= The play on words here is not clear; "guiserd"
+may be a variant of "gizzard," in which case it would mean the Duke's
+throat. This is more probable than a "jingling allusion . . . to
+goose-herd or gozzard," which Dilke suggests.
+
+=23=, 124. =are you blind of that side:= unguarded and assailable in
+that direction.
+
+=23=, 130. =Accius Naevius:= the augur who cut a whetstone in pieces in
+presence of Tarquinius Priscus.
+
+=23=, 133. =mate:= either _match_ or _put down_, _overcome_. The latter
+sense is more probable, with a punning allusion to the use of the word
+in chess, at which Guise seems to be engaged with the King. Cf. l. 184.
+
+=23=, 135-36. =of the new edition:= of the recent creation. An allusion
+to the lavish creation of knights by James, shortly after his accession.
+
+=24=, 141-42. =y'ave cut too many throats.= An allusion to Guise's share
+in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. Contrast the references to the
+episode in _The Revenge_, II, 1, 198-234.
+
+=24=, 149. =the Knights ward.= Dilke thought that the allusion here was
+to the "poor knights of Windsor," but it really refers to a part of the
+"Counter" prison in London. Cf. _Eastward Hoe_, V, 2, 54, where Wolf
+says of Sir Petronel Flash, "The knight will i' the Knights-Ward, doe
+what we can, sir." (See Schelling's note.)
+
+=24=, 163-64. =out a th' presence:= outside the presence of the
+Sovereign.
+
+=25=, 168. =like a rush.= An allusion to the custom, still prevalent in
+Chapman's time, of strewing floors with rushes.
+
+=25=, 178-79. =of the place The divers frames.= An obscure expression,
+which may mean: the varied character in different places of the bed of
+the sea.
+
+=25=, 180-83. =Bristled . . . fome.= The imagery in these lines also
+presents difficulty. D'Ambois's heart is likened to the sea, which,
+once swollen into billows, will not sink into its original calm till it
+is overspread by the crown or sheet of foam which the waves, after their
+subsidence, leave behind.
+
+=25=, 184. =You have the mate.= Cf. textual note on I, 1, 153, and note
+on =23=, 133, p. 148.
+
+=26=, 208. =a blanquet.= To toss D'Ambois in, as is plain from l. 212.
+
+=26=, 211. =carrie it cleane:= comes off easily superior.
+
+=27=, 237-38. =Your descants . . . this ground.= There is a complicated
+play on words here. _Descant_ in music is the melodious accompaniment to
+a simple theme, the _plainsong_ or _ground_. Hence arises the derived
+meaning, _a variation on any theme_, _a comment_, often of a censorious
+kind. This, as well as the original meaning, is implied here, while
+_ground_ has, of course, its usual as well as its technical sense.
+
+=28=, 243-44. =Ile be your ghost to haunt you.= May this be an early
+reference to Banquo's ghost? _Macbeth_ was probably produced in 1606,
+the year before _Bussy D'Ambois_ was printed.
+
+=28=, 261. =musk-cats:= _civet-cats_, and hence, _scented persons_,
+_fops_.
+
+=28=, 262. =this priviledge.= The royal presence-chamber, though the
+King has left it, is still regarded as inviolable.
+
+=29=. =Henry, Guise, Montsurry and Attendants.= The Qq of 1607 and 1608,
+instead of _Montsurry and Attendants_, read _Beaumond, Nuncius_.
+_Nuncius_ is a mistake, as he does not enter till after l. 24.
+_Beaumond_ is evidently a courtier, who speaks ll. 105-107 (_Such a life
+. . . of men_), and who goes out with the King after l. 206. In 1641 and
+later Qq it was apparently thought desirable to leave out this
+"single-speech" character and transfer his words to Montsurry; but by an
+oversight _Beau._ was left prefixed to the second half of l. 105, and
+the S. D., _Exit Rex cum Beau._, was retained after l. 206. The editor
+has therefore substituted _Mont._ for _Beau._ in either case. Montsurry
+being thus present at the pardon of Bussy, the 1641 and later Qq leave
+out ll. 1-50 of the next Scene wherein _inter alia_ Montsurry speaks of
+the pardon as yet undecided, and Guise enters to announce it to him.
+
+Dilke in his edition in 1814 thought _Beaumond_ a misprint for
+_Beaupre_, who appears in other scenes, and whom he took to be a man,
+instead of a woman. Hence he reads _Montsurry, Beaupre and Attendants_
+both here and after l. 206. The other editors have not realized that
+there is any discrepancy to be explained.
+
+=29=, 12-13. =bruits it . . . healthfull:= proclaims it through the
+world to be sound and wholesome.
+
+=31=, 51-52. =Pyrrho's opinion . . . are one.= A sweeping
+generalisation, which cannot be accepted as an interpretation of the
+doctrines of the sceptical philosopher of Elis.
+
+=31=, 54-58. =As Hector . . . speak.= The reference is to _Iliad_, VII,
+54 ff., though Hector is there described as keeping back the Trojans
+with his spear.
+
+=32=, 60. =Ript up the quarrell:= explained the cause and origin of the
+quarrel (Dilke).
+
+=32=, 63-64. =conclude The others dangers:= might put an end to the
+risks of their companions by making their single combat cover the whole
+quarrel. _Conclude_ here unites the Elizabethan sense _include_ with the
+ordinary meaning _finish_.
+
+=32=, 77-80. =And then . . . never kill.= An anticipation, as Lamb and
+others have pointed out, of Milton's description of angelic wounds,
+_Par. Lost_, VI, 344-49.
+
+=33=, 84-87. =Thrice pluckt . . . scap't.= The accumulation of personal
+pronouns makes the interpretation somewhat difficult: thrice D'Ambois
+plucked at it, and thrice drew on thrusts from Barrisor who darted
+hither and thither like flame, and continued thrusting as D'Ambois
+plucked; yet, incredible to relate, the latter escaped injury.
+
+=33=, 90. =only made more horrid with his wound:= Barrisor being only
+rendered fiercer by his wound. The construction is loose, as
+grammatically the words should qualify D'Ambois.
+
+=33=, 92. =redoubled in his danger:= thrusting himself into danger for
+the second time. For this peculiar use of _redoubled_ cf. l. 190, "on my
+knees redoubled," and note.
+
+=33=, 94. =Arden.= Probably to be no more identified here with the
+Warwickshire district of this name than in _As You Like It_. Ardennes
+would be more appropriate on a Frenchman's lips, but the district
+belongs to the realm of fancy as much as Armenia in l. 117.
+
+=33=, 97. =he gan to nodde.= An anacoluthon. The construction should be
+"begin to nodde" after "I have seene an oke" in l. 94, but the
+intervening participial clauses produce irregularity. Similarily in l.
+101 "he fell" should be "fall" and "hid" should be "hide."
+
+=33=, 103-104. =Of ten set . . . Navarre.= The war between Henry III and
+Henry of Navarre continued from 1587 to 1589, but the "ten set battles"
+are without historical foundation.
+
+=34=, 105. [=Montsurry.=] See note on stage direction at beginning of
+the scene.
+
+=34=, 108. =felt report:= probably, account related with feeling.
+
+=34=, 121. =the treasure of his brow:= his horn.
+
+=34=, 122. =shelter of a tree.= Unicorns were supposed to be worsted in
+encounters by their adversaries sheltering behind trees, in which they
+impaled themselves. Spenser, _F. Q._ II, 5, 10, describes how a lion
+defeats a unicorn by this stratagem. Cf. _Jul. Caes._ II, 1, 303-04.
+
+                    "He loves to hear
+     That unicorns may be betray'd with trees."
+
+=34=, 128. =th' tw' other=, i. e. Pyrrhot and Melynell.
+
+=35=, 130. =hunt Honour at the view.= A rare metaphorical application of
+the technical phrase, "hunt at the view."
+
+=35.= [=Exit Nuntius.=] The editor has inserted this, as the Qq do not
+indicate when the Nuncius departs, and, with the entrance of Bussy,
+there is no further need of him. =bare:= bareheaded.
+
+=35=, 141-44. =If ever Nature . . . one.= Difficult lines, which may be
+paraphrased: if ever Nature's bond maintained its strength, when
+subjected to the severe test of bridging the distance between sovereign
+and subject, both sprung from the same seed, now prove that in elevated
+stations she can show her nobility.
+
+=36=, 156. =that=, i. e. positive law.
+
+=36=, 157. =prefixing:= settling beforehand.
+
+=36=, 164. =this fact, though of justice:= this action, though done in
+the name of justice.
+
+=37=, 170. =he=, i. e. his enemy.
+
+=37=, 175-76. =which . . . him:= which is more precious than a human
+life, which is inferior in value to it, and which was rightly forfeited
+to him through ill-doing.
+
+=37=, 190. =This is a grace.= The grace or boon for which Bussy asks is
+explained by him in ll. 193-203. "This" usually refers to something that
+has gone before, =on my knees redoubled:= going down for the second time
+on my knees--from which he had risen after l. 179.
+
+=37=, 192. =And shall=, i. e. And which grace shall.
+
+=38=, 198-204. =Let me . . . King indeed.= With this assertion of man's
+original "Kingship" cf. _The Gentleman Usher_, V, 1.
+
+     And what's a prince? Had all been virtuous men,
+     There never had been prince upon the earth,
+     And so no subject: all men had been princes.
+     A virtuous man is subject to no prince,
+     But to his soul and honour.
+
+=38.= [=Exit Rex cum Montsurry.=] See note on stage direction at
+beginning of this scene.
+
+=40=, 18. =Although she be my ante.= From these words we learn that
+Beaupre is niece to the Duke and Duchess of Guise. Compare III, ii, 188,
+and the reference to "my lady, your niece" in the passage in Qq 1607 and
+1608 quoted in the textual note on III, ii, 233.
+
+=42=, 49. =an agent for my bloud:= an instrument in the satisfaction of
+my passions.
+
+=42=, 57-58. =his retiring . . . aspiring:= his retirement to a position
+of inferiority will satisfy my aspirations.
+
+=43=, 70-71. =Wise wives . . . friend.= Tamyra ironically keeps up the
+metaphor of the "two strings" in l. 66, and plays upon the double senses
+of "firm" and "loose" in archery and morals.
+
+=44=, 95. =as good cheap as it:= literally, on as advantageous terms as;
+hence, with as little effort as, as readily as.
+
+=45=, 108-10. =Whose there . . . quality.= Cf. _All Fools_, II, 1, p. 67
+(Phelps).
+
+     While I sit like a well-taught writing-woman
+     Turning her eyes upon some work or picture,
+     Read in a book, or take a feigned nap,
+     While her kind lady takes one to her lap.
+
+=45=, 117. =oportunities:= importunities, which Dilke wished to
+substitute. But "opportunity" was used in this sense. Cf. _Mer. Wiv.
+Wind._ III, 4, 20-2.
+
+     "Yet seeke my Fathers love, still seeke it, sir;
+     If opportunity and humblest suite
+     Cannot attain it, why then harke you hither."
+
+=45=, 121-122. =as to their pardons . . . Parliaments.= The meaning
+appears to be: as the exceptions they make, after Parliaments have
+ceased to sit, are to the pardons they have granted.
+
+=46=, 129. =part'st with victory:= comest off victoriously.
+
+=48=, 165. =the Center:= the unmoved central point of the earth,
+according to the Ptolemaic system.
+
+=49=, 182. =cast . . . beene:= undress, as if I had never been watching
+here. Tamyra here determines to go to bed, but afterwards (l. 242) she
+returns.
+
+=49=, 198. =the first orbe move.= An allusion to the _Primum Mobile_,
+which, in the Ptolemaic system, was the tenth sphere "of a most pure and
+cleare substance and without starres," which revolved in twenty-four
+hours, and carried round in its course all the inner spheres.
+
+=51=, 231-32. =If not . . . satisfi'd:= if she is not given opportunity
+to dissemble or show petulance, she is not satisfied even if she gains
+what she desires.
+
+=56=, 20-30. =Sin . . . troth.= A characteristic illustration of how one
+simile in Chapman's verse begets another, with little regard for logical
+sequence. The "shadowes" with which sin frightens us are first compared
+to the imaginary creatures into which fancy shapes the clouds; then sin
+itself (relegated from an active to a passive part) is likened not to a
+pure creation of the fancy, but to an exaggerated picture of a real
+monster displayed by "policy," i. e. the craft which seeks to debar men
+from their desires.
+
+For the custom of exhibiting a rude painting of a curiosity, as a decoy
+to sightseers, cf. _The Tempest_, II, 2, 29-31, "Were I in England now .
+. . and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would
+give a piece of silver."
+
+=56=, 21. =in his truest valour:= if his valour be rightly estimated.
+
+=56=, 33. =our three powers.= The vegetative, sensitive and reasoning
+faculties.
+
+=56-57=, 40-43. =Nor shall . . . wings.= Tamyra's "fame," which in l. 38
+has been spoken of as a "jewell," is now likened to a fabulous winged
+creature which is accorded free flight.
+
+=57=, 44. =It rests as:= the secret remains as inviolable as if.
+
+=58=, 69-71. =layes . . . oppos'd.= I am indebted to Dr. J. A. H. Murray
+for the following interpretation of this passage: [Nature] brings our
+powers into accordance with its own will or working, just as the stone
+(laid by the builder) should be apposed or brought into accord with the
+line, not the line (which is straight and not to be shifted) made to lie
+along the stone.
+
+=60=, 119. =greatnesse with him:= high place in his favour.
+
+=62=, 13. =Boots of hay-ropes.= Bands of hay were sometimes wrapped
+round the legs, to serve instead of boots. Cf. Ben Jonson's _Every Man
+in his Humour_, I, 2. _Step._ But I have no boots . . . _Brainworm_. Why
+a fine wisp of hay roll'd hard, Master Stephen.
+
+=62=, 18. =a redhair'd man:= a deceiver, traitor; so called from the
+representation of Judas in tapestries, and probably on the stage of the
+Miracle plays, with red hair.
+
+=63=, 23. =put them up:= start them from their cover.
+
+=63=, 28. =That . . . clapdish:= That keeps regal state, though sprung
+from beggary. A clapdish was a wooden dish with a lid, carried by
+beggars and lepers, which they clapped to announce their approach.
+
+=63=, 46. =Venting . . . Hebrew:= putting the best product of his
+livings to the reverse of its intended use. Hebrew is read backwards.
+
+=65=, 69. =that popular purple.= An allusion to the Duke's robe, which
+was of royal purple, to impress the populace.
+
+=65=, 76. =He's noblier borne.= "Noblier" has been here substituted for
+"nobly." The parallel phrases in the preceding lines are all
+comparatives, "better," "more," "greater," and Bussy, in the second half
+of this line, cannot mean to deny that Guise is of noble birth.
+
+=65=, 79. =Cardinall of Ambois.= The Cardinal Georges d'Amboise was in
+reality Bussy's great-uncle.
+
+=66=, 84. =great in faction:= active in promoting leagues.
+
+=66=, 86-87. =Be a duke . . . field.= A play, of course, on the original
+meaning of Duke, as _Dux_ or _leader_.
+
+=67=, 108. =the Hermean rod:= the caduceus or rod of Hermes, with which
+he parted two fighting serpents, whereupon they embraced and stuck to
+the rod.
+
+=69=, 144-47. =and as this . . . pride.= An allusion to the myth of the
+giant Typhoeus who, according to one version, was created by Hera alone,
+in anger at the birth of Pallas from the head of Zeus. He was killed by
+Zeus with a flash of lighting, and was buried in Tartarus under Mt.
+Etna.
+
+=69=, 154. =make scapes to please advantage:= commit escapades, and
+thereby give points against themselves.
+
+=69=, 155-56. =women . . . candels:= women who make the worst
+accomplices to men.
+
+=70=, 157. =their women:= their waiting-women.
+
+=71=, 187-88. =as far as an unkle may.= Guise is uncle to the lady
+Beaupre. Cf. note on II, 2, 18.
+
+=74=, 243-44. =Come . . . courted.= These words are whispered by
+Monsieur to Pero. The rest of his speech is spoken aloud as if in
+disgust at the rejection of advances made by him to Pero.
+
+=74=, 244. =dry palm:= a sign of chastity.
+
+=77=, 311. =I have the blind side of:= I can play on the weakness of.
+
+=78=, 325. =engag'd in some sure plot:= involved in the toils of some
+plot securely laid against him.
+
+=78=, 330. =Train . . . wreak:= allure D'Ambois within reach of his
+revenge.
+
+=80=, 375. =angell of my life:= an allusion to the tutelary genius. For
+a similar use of _angel_ cf. _Ant. and Cleop._ II, 3, 21.
+
+=81=, 383. =rais'd without a circle.= If a necromancer, before raising a
+spirit, drew a circle within which he stood, he was secure against its
+power.
+
+=82=, 406. =which I have still in thought:= which is always with me, as
+far as my thoughts are concerned.
+
+=84=, 445-46. =to force . . . estates.= With the punctuation adopted
+_And . . . throats_ is a clause parenthetically inserted in the main
+statement, and the meaning is: to get possession of estates by
+foreclosing mortgages, and thus destroying their owners. The Qq have a
+comma after _possessions_, and no brackets in the following line.
+
+=84-85=, 448-49. =quarrell . . . Ajax.= A reference to the well-known
+episode in Sophocles' _Ajax_.
+
+=85=, 453. =make them of a peece:= make them complete.
+
+=85=, 464-66. =which not to sooth . . . Thou eat'st.= An anacoluthon.
+
+=85=, 465. =And glorifie . . . Hammon.= Probably an allusion to the
+adoration of Alexander the Great as the son of Jupiter Ammon by the
+priests of this originally AEthiopian deity, at Thebes in Upper Egypt, in
+B. C. 331.
+
+=86=, 473. =like a scrich-owle sing.= The screech of the owl was
+supposed to be an omen of death to the hearer. Cf. _Macbeth_, II, 2,
+3-4.
+
+=87=, 500. =to that wall:= at the distance of that wall.
+
+=87=, 507. =her breathing rock.= Dilke explains this as "the distaff
+from whence she draws the thread of life," but though this is evidently
+the meaning required, it is difficult to extract it from this obscure
+phrase.
+
+=87=, 510. =Defil'd . . . soule.= Another instance of confused imagery,
+which yields no satisfactory meaning.
+
+=89=, 28. =which=, sc. time.
+
+=90=, 35. =princely mistresse:= the Duchess of Guise.
+
+=90=, 39. =Your servant:= D'Ambois.
+
+=90=, 52. =in high formes:= on stools of disgrace.
+
+=91=, 55. =great eagles beak.= Cf. III, 2, 4.
+
+=91=, 57. =her . . . liver.= A double allusion, as Dilke has pointed
+out, to the story of Prometheus, and to the conception of the liver as
+the seat of the emotions.
+
+=92=, 77. =with a traine:= by a stratagem.
+
+=93=, 84. =gushing.= Used here transitively, qualifying _laws_, and
+governing _blood_.
+
+=93=, 87. =bare . . . hammes:= the uncovered heads and cringing postures
+of sycophants.
+
+=93=, 98. =Armenian dragons.= Chapman is fond of locating fabulous
+monsters in Armenia. Cf. II, 1, 118-19.
+
+=94=, 115. =almighty AEther.= Probably a reminiscence of Virgil,
+_Georg._ 2, 325, _pater omnipotens AEther_.
+
+=94=, 120. =Nay, they are two.= Monsieur, while saying this, makes two
+horns with his fingers.
+
+=95=, 126. =a meere Cynthia:= a perfect moon-goddess.
+
+=96=, 138. =The plague of Herod.= Cf. Acts XII, 23, "And he was eaten of
+worms, and gave up the ghost."
+
+=98=, 180. =thus, with his fingers.= Cf. note on l. 120.
+
+=98=, 181-83. =comes . . . slew:= if he is the source of the blot on my
+honour, it becomes a beauty, not a blemish, and proves that I posses the
+same innocence that caused the death of.
+
+=98=, 183. =Chymaera.= A fire-breathing monster, brought up by
+Amisodarus, King of Caria. She was slain by Bellerophon. This Corinthian
+prince, to purify himself from a murder he had committed, had fled to
+the court of Proetus of Argos, whose wife, Anteia, fell in love with
+him. On his rejection of her advances, she made false accusations
+against him, whereupon Proetus sent him to his father-in-law, Iobates,
+King of Lycia, with a sealed letter, requesting him to put him to death.
+Iobates sent him to kill Chimaera, thinking he would be certain to perish
+in the attempt. But mounted on the winged horse Pegasus, he killed her
+from on high with his arrows.
+
+=98=, 183-84. =rescued . . . Peleon.= Peleus, King of the Myrmidons,
+during a visit to Iolcus, attracted the love of Astydameia, the wife of
+Acastus. On his rejection of her proposals, she denounced him falsely to
+her husband, who took him to hunt wild beasts on Mount Peleon, and when
+he fell asleep through fatigue, concealed his sword, and left him alone
+to be devoured. But he was saved by Cheiron, who restored him his sword.
+
+=98=, 185. =the chaste Athenian prince:= Hippolytus, son of Theseus and
+Hippolyta, with whom his step-mother Phaedra fell in love. On his
+rejection of her advances, she accused him to Theseus, at whose prayer
+Poseidon caused his destruction, by frightening his horses, when he was
+driving along the seacoast, and overturning his chariot. Afterwards, on
+the discovery of his innocence, Asclepius restored him to the upper
+world.
+
+=98=, 187. =Egean.= So the Qq, instead of "Augean."
+
+=98=, 190. =where thou fear'st, are dreadfull:= inspirest terror even in
+those of whom thou art afraid.
+
+=98-99=, 192-94. =the serpent . . . and me.= A curious application of
+the legend of armed men springing from the dragon's teeth sown by Jason.
+
+=99=, 204. =feares his owne hand:= is afraid of the consequences of his
+own handwriting.
+
+=99=, 205-208. =papers hold . . . honors:= written documents often
+contain the revelation of our true selves, and, though of no material
+value, put the crown to our reputations.
+
+=99-100=, 209-210. =and with . . . knowes:= and compare with its
+contents the evidence of this my most intimate attendant.
+
+=101=, 6. =trails hotly of him:= is hot upon his scent. _Him_ apparently
+refers to _mischiefe_ in l. 4.
+
+=102=, 25. =With . . . affrighted:= by which all things capable of
+terror are frightened.
+
+=103=, 32. =Epimethean.= Epimetheus, the brother of Prometheus, opened
+Pandora's box, and let its evils loose among mankind.
+
+=103=, 37-38. =Or stood . . . artillerie.= In the war of Zeus against
+Cronos, the Cyclopes aided the former, who had released them from
+Tartarus, by furnishing him with thunderbolts.
+
+=103=, 47-48. =I will . . . spirit:= I will command a spirit, raised by
+my art, to enlighten us.
+
+=104=, 54. =Behemoth.= The editor has been unable to find any precedent
+for Chapman's application of this name--which in the Book of Job denotes
+the whale or hippopotamus--to the chief of the powers of darkness.
+
+=104=, 55. =Asaroth.= Apparently a variant of _Ashtaroth_, the plural of
+_Ashtoreth,_ the Phoenician moon-goddess; here mistakenly used for the
+name of a male spirit.
+
+=104.= =Cartophylax.= A post-classical Greek term for "guardian of
+papers."
+
+=106=, 97. =great in our command:= powerful in exercising command over
+us.
+
+=107-109=, 113-51. =There is . . . his soule.= The dialogue and action
+here take place probably at the back of the stage, perhaps on the upper
+stage, of which use is made in _The Tempest_, the _Spanish Tragedie_,
+and other plays. The characters (as is evident from ll. 102-104) are
+supposed to be far off, but rendered visible and audible to Tamyra and
+D'Ambois by Behemoth's power.
+
+=107=, 113. =a glasse of ink:= a mirror made of ink, i. e. the paper
+with the proofs of Tamyra's unfaithfulness.
+
+=107=, 116. =fames sepulchres:= the foulness beneath which her good name
+is buried.
+
+=107=, 120-21. =were . . . rarely:= were it never so uncommon, bear it
+with as unexampled courage.
+
+=109=, 156. =In her forc'd bloud.= Dilke is followed in the substitution
+of _her_ for _his_. The allusion is evidently to the letter that Tamyra
+afterwards writes to D'Ambois in her own blood. Cf. V, 1, 176-77.
+
+=110=, 169-70. =Lest . . . abuse:= lest a furious outburst due to your
+foreknowledge of the plot against us.
+
+=111=, 185. =And . . . policy:= and the Monsieur's stratagems shall be
+taken in the flank by my own.
+
+=111=, 186. =Center.= Here and in l. 192 this word, though strictly
+meaning the central point of the earth, seems used for the earth itself,
+as the centre of the universe. For this use cf. Shaks. _Tro. and Cress._
+I, 3, 85-86.
+
+     "The heavens themselves, the planets, and this center
+     Observe degree, priority, and place."
+
+=111=, 191. =calme . . . ruine:= unsuspecting tranquillity previous to a
+convulsion of the elements.
+
+=113=, 17-18. =The stony . . . sleeper.= The thunderstone, or
+thunderbolt, was supposed to have no power of harming any one who was
+asleep, or who wore laurel leaves. Leigh, in his _Observations on the
+First Twelve Caesars_ (1647), p. 43, says of Tiberius that "he feared
+thunder exceedingly, and when the aire or weather was any thing
+troubled, he even carried a chaplet or wreath of laurell about his neck,
+because that as (Pliny reporteth) is never blasted with lightning."
+
+=114=, 50. =determinate:= apparently used in the sense of _final_,
+though the sense is rare, except as qualifying a word which implies
+previous deliberation.
+
+=115=, 55-56. =preventing . . . death:= anticipating the last blast that
+is to kill those who live, and to give life anew to the dead.
+
+=115=, 64. =Fame growes in going.= Borrowed from the _AEneid_, IV,
+173-75, _Fama . . . viresque acquirit eundo._
+
+=115=, 67-68. =come . . . lust.= The _syren_ is Tamyra; her song the
+letter she is to write to her lover (cf. l. 75); Montsurry; band of
+murderers the fatal _rocks_; and the _ruffin gally_, D'Ambois.
+
+=115=, 69-71. =the nets . . . danc'd.= There is a play here upon _nets_
+in the sense of wiles, and in its usual signification. To "dance," or
+"march," or "hide" in a net was to delude oneself that one was acting
+secretly (cf. _Henry V_, I, 4, 173, and _Span. Trag._ IV, 4, 118).
+
+=116=, 84. =for all:= in spite of all.
+
+=116=, 86. =their= should be, in grammatical sequence, "her," referring
+to "a womans" in 83.
+
+=116=, 91. =nor in humane consort:= nor do they find human fellowship.
+The metaphor of the _wildernesse_ is still being carried on.
+
+=118=, 128-30. =Where . . . cruelty:= in the same quarter [i. e. your
+person] where all these bonds have been violated, they are preserved by
+the infliction of just punishment, with some exhibition of the same
+quintessence of cruelty that you have shown me.
+
+=118=, 142. =Thus I expresse thee yet:= thus I give a further stroke to
+my delineation of thee.
+
+=118=, 143. =thy . . . yet:= the image of thy unnatural depravity is not
+yet fully completed.
+
+=118=, 145. =This other engine:= the rack, on which Montsurry's servants
+place Tamyra. Cf. l. 157, "O let me downe, my lord."
+
+=119=, 151-52. =O who . . . None but my lord and husband.= Tamyra thinks
+that some evil spirit has taken her husband's shape, and cries to
+Montsurry to appear and deliver her.
+
+=119=, 161. =Now . . . stands still.= This statement of the leading
+principle of the Copernican system, as a mere rhetorical paradox, is
+remarkable.
+
+=119-120=, 163-72. =The too huge . . . with hypocrisie.= In this curious
+passage the earth is conceived of as a recumbent figure, which usually
+lies face upwards to the sky. But the weight of her sins has caused her
+to roll over, so that her back part now _braves_ heaven, while her face
+is turned to the Antipodes; and all the deceitful appearances which she
+has adopted through her cheating arts have come out in their true nature
+on her back, so that her hypocrisy stands revealed.
+
+=120=, 178. =he:= the Friar.
+
+=120=, 181. =his.= We should expect a repetition of _her_ in l. 180.
+_His_, however seems to be equivalent to _man's_, anticipating _man_ in
+l. 182. Possibly we should read _this_.
+
+=121=, 191. =In, Ile after.= These words are addressed to the body of
+the Friar.
+
+=122=, 20. =with terror:= inspiring terror in their enemies.
+
+=123=, 28. =And . . . man:= And consider it, though left headless, as a
+completely formed man.
+
+=123=, 36. =vertuous treasurie:= stock of virtues.
+
+=124=, 46-53. =Not so . . . mens hate.= An adaptation of Seneca's
+_Agamemnon_, 64-72:
+
+     _Non sic Libycis Syrtibus aequor
+     Furit alternos volvere fluctus,
+     Non Euxini turget ab imis
+     Commota vadis unda, nivali
+     Vicina polo;
+     Ubi, caeruleis immunis aquis,
+     Lucida versat plaustra Bootes,
+     Ut praecipites regum casus
+     Fortuna rotat._
+
+These lines, with those immediately before and after, are more loosely
+adapted in Kyd's _Spanish Tragedie_, III, 1, 1-11.
+
+=126=, 23. =this embodied shadow:= this spirit while it had bodily form.
+
+=126=, 24-27. =With reminiscion . . . of art.= Cf. IV, 2, 158-61.
+
+=127=, 41-53. =Terror of darknesse . . . greater light.= After Bussy's
+statement in ll. 29-32 we should expect him to immediately summon _the
+Prince of darknesse_, Behemoth. But ll. 41-46 are apparently addressed
+to the sun-god, who is invoked to put to flight night and mystery. Then
+as an alternative, in ll. 47-53, Behemoth, to whom darkness is as light,
+is bidden appear. Dilke substitutes _oh_ for _or_ (the reading of all
+Qq) at the beginning of l. 47. If this change be right, the invocation
+commences at this line, and ll. 41-46 are merely a preliminary
+rhetorical appeal for more illumination. But in this case there is an
+incongruity between such an appeal and the summoning of the _Prince of
+shades_, who sees best where darkness is thickest. Lamb in his
+_Specimens_ retains the reading of the Qq, and says of the passage:
+"This calling upon Light and Darkness for information, but, above all,
+the description of the spirit--'threw his changed countenance headlong
+into clouds'--is tremendous, to the curdling of the blood. I know
+nothing in poetry like it."
+
+=130=, 103. =all the signes:= i. e. of the Zodiac.
+
+=131.= =Intrat Umbra Frier . . . Tamyra.= The Ghost of the Friar enters
+and _discovers_, i. e. _reveals to view_, Tamyra, who since the close of
+V, 1, has remained wrapped _in the arras_, or, as the variant stage
+direction in A here puts it, _wrapt in a canapie_.
+
+=131=, 9. =before he be revenged:= before vengeance is taken on him. The
+reading of A, _engaged_, is perhaps (as Dilke suggests) preferable.
+
+=133=, 27-28. =what . . . D'Amboys:= what bugbear, such as this, is not
+afraid to visit D'Amboys, even in his sleep?
+
+=134=, 45. =Will . . . here?= D'Ambois's sword fails to pierce the
+_privy coat_ worn by the murderer. Cf. V, 2, 57.
+
+=134=, 52. =That . . . resembled:= That was a successful artifice, and a
+skilful impersonation.
+
+=135=, 65. =enforce the spot:= emphasize the stain on your honour.
+
+=136=, 82. =Then . . . fact:= then these teachers of divinity deal with
+figments, not with realities.
+
+=136=, 83-84. =Man . . . servant:= Man consists of two attached friends,
+the body and the mind, of which the latter is swayed by the former, as a
+lover by his mistress.
+
+=136=, 90-93. =And if Vespasian . . . groomes.= Cf. Suetonius, _Life of
+Vespasian_, Ch. 24. _Hic, quum super urgentem valetudinem creberrimo
+frigidae aquae usu etiam intestina vitiasset, nec eo minus muneribus
+imperatoriis ex consuetudine fungeretur, ut etiam legationes audiret
+cubans, alvo repente usque ad defectionem soluta, Imperatorem, ait,
+stantem mori oportere. Dumque consurgit, ac nititur, inter manus
+sublevantium exstinctus est._
+
+=137=, 100-108. =And haste . . . dwellers.= An adaptation of Seneca,
+_Her. Oet._ 1518-1526:
+
+     _O decus mundi, radiate Titan,
+     Cujus ad primos Hecate vapores
+     Lassa nocturnae levat ora bigae,
+     Dic sub Aurora positis Sabaeis,
+     Dic sub Occasu positis Iberis,
+     Quique ferventi quatiuntur axe,
+     Quique sub plaustro patiuntur Ursae;
+     Dic ad aeternos, properare Manes
+     Herculem._
+
+=137=, 110-111. =may . . . funerall:= may celebrate fittingly my
+unworthy end with such a funeral volley as it deserves.
+
+=138=, 135-40. =My sunne . . . bloud.= In these lines the _killing
+spectacle_, the _prodigie_, of l. 134, and its effect are described.
+Tamyra, the light of D'Ambois's life, with her reddened bosom and hands,
+is likened to a sun whose beams have turned to blood. So far the imagery
+is clear, but it is difficult to extract a satisfactory sense from what
+follows. What do _Pindus and Ossa_ symbolize, and what exactly does
+their _melting_ mean? This seems one of the few passages in the play
+which really deserve Dryden's stricture for "looseness of expression and
+gross hyperboles."
+
+=139=, 146. =struck.= The Qq, and all editors, read _stuck_, but the
+word seems inapplicable to a thunderbolt. The editor has conjectured
+_struck_, which, with a minimum of change, gives the sense required.
+
+=139=, 149 =Joine flames with Hercules.= Here the quartos of 1607 and
+1608 contain the right reading. D'Ambois, who has met death in the
+spirit of Hercules (cf. ll. 100-108), is now to share his translation to
+the skies. For the description of Hercules as a star see Seneca, _Her.
+Oet._ 1564-1581.
+
+=142=, 211-14 =as . . . dies.= The reference is to the wax in the taper,
+which retains in its _savour_ the mark of its origin in the hive, till
+transient as life, it glances with the eye of a flame, and, so doing,
+expires.
+
+
+
+
+THE TEXT
+
+
+_The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ was printed in quarto in 1613 by T. S.
+for John Helme. No reprint appeared till 1873, when it was included in
+the edition of Chapman's Tragedies and Comedies published by J. Pearson.
+The text of the quarto was reproduced, with the original spelling and
+punctuation, but with a few errors. There have been two later editions
+in modernized spelling, and with slight emendations, by R. H. Shepherd
+in 1874, and W. L. Phelps in 1895.
+
+In the present edition the text of the quarto has been reproduced, with
+some additional emendations, and the original spelling has been
+retained. As regards punctuation, the use of capital letters and
+italics, and the division of the Acts into Scenes, the same methods have
+been followed as in the case of _Bussy D'Ambois_.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+REVENGE
+OF
+_Bussy D'Ambois_.
+
+
+A
+TRAGEDIE
+
+
+_As it hath beene often presented at the
+priuate Play-house in the White Fryers._
+
+
+Written
+By GEORGE CHAPMAN, Gentleman.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed by _T. S._ and are to be solde by IOHN HELME,
+      at his Shop in S. Dunstones Church-Yard,
+              in _Fleetstreet_. 1613.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCES
+
+
+The story of a plot by Bussy D'Ambois's kinsfolk to avenge his murder
+is, in the main, of Chapman's own invention. But he had evidently read
+an account similar to that given later by De Thou of the design
+entertained for a time by Bussy's sister Renee (whom Chapman calls
+Charlotte) and her husband, Baligny, to take vengeance on Montsurry.
+Clermont D'Ambois is himself a fictitious character, but the episodes in
+which he appears in Acts II-IV are drawn from the account of the
+treacherous proceedings against the Count d'Auvergne in Edward
+Grimeston's translation of Jean de Serres's _Inventaire General de
+l'Histoire de France_. This narrative, however, is not by De Serres, but
+by Pierre Matthieu, whose _Histoire de France_ was one of the sources
+used by Grimeston for events later than 1598.
+
+The portraiture of Clermont throughout the play as the high-souled
+philosopher is inspired by Epictetus's delineation in his _Discourses_
+of the ideal Stoic. But in his reluctance to carry out his duty of
+revenge he is evidently modelled upon Hamlet. In Act V, Scene i, the
+influence of Shakespeare's tragedy is specially manifest.
+
+The Scenes in Act V relating to the assassination of Guise are based
+upon Grimeston's translation of De Serres's _Inventaire General_.
+
+The passages in Grimeston's volume which recount the Duke's murder, and
+those which tell the story of the Count d'Auvergne, are reprinted as an
+Appendix.
+
+The frontispiece to this volume, the Chateau of La Coutanciere, at which
+Bussy D'Ambois was killed, is reproduced from an illustration in A.
+Joubert's _Louis de Clermont_.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE RIGHT
+
+VERTUOUS, AND
+
+truely Noble Knight, Sr.
+
+_Thomas Howard, &c._
+
+
+_Sir_,
+
+Since workes of this kinde have beene lately esteemed
+worthy the patronage of some of our worthiest
+Nobles, I have made no doubt to preferre this of mine
+to your undoubted vertue and exceeding true noblesse,
+as contayning matter no lesse deserving your reading,                  5
+and excitation to heroycall life, then any such late dedication.
+Nor have the greatest Princes of Italie and other
+countries conceived it any least diminution to their greatnesse
+to have their names wing'd with these tragicke
+plumes, and disperst by way of patronage through the                  10
+most noble notices of Europe.
+
+Howsoever, therefore, in the scaenicall presentation it
+might meete with some maligners, yet, considering even
+therein it past with approbation of more worthy judgements,
+the ballance of their side (especially being held                     15
+by your impartiall hand) I hope will to no graine abide
+the out-weighing. And for the autenticall truth of eyther
+person or action, who (worth the respecting) will expect
+it in a poeme, whose subject is not truth, but things like
+truth? Poore envious soules they are that cavill at truths            20
+want in these naturall fictions: materiall instruction, elegant
+and sententious excitation to vertue, and deflection
+from her contrary, being the soule, lims, and limits of an
+autenticall tragedie. But whatsoever merit of your full
+countenance and favour suffers defect in this, I shall soone          25
+supply with some other of more generall account; wherein
+your right vertuous name made famous and preserved to
+posteritie, your future comfort and honour in your present
+acceptation and love of all vertuous and divine expression
+may be so much past others of your rancke encreast, as                30
+they are short of your judiciall ingenuitie, in their due
+estimation.
+
+For howsoever those ignoble and sowre-brow'd
+worldlings are carelesse of whatsoever future or present
+opinion spreads of them; yet (with the most divine                    35
+philosopher, if Scripture did not confirme it) I make it
+matter of my faith, that we truely retaine an intellectuall
+feeling of good or bad after this life, proportionably
+answerable to the love or neglect we beare here to all
+vertue and truely-humane instruction: in whose favour                 40
+and honour I wish you most eminent, and rest ever,
+
+                              _Your true vertues
+                                 most true observer,
+                                       Geo. Chapman_.
+
+
+
+
+THE ACTORS NAMES
+
+
+  _Henry_, the King.
+  _Monsieur_, his Brother.
+  _Guise_, D[uke].
+  _Renel_, a Marquesse.
+  _Montsureau_, an Earle.
+  _Baligny_, Lord Lieutenant [of Cambray].
+  _Clermont D'Ambois._
+  _Maillard._ }
+  _Challon._  } Captaines.
+  _Aumal._    }
+  _Espernone._
+  _Soissone._
+  _Perricot_, [An _Usher_.]
+  [A _Messenger._]
+  The _Guard._
+  _Souldiers._
+  _Servants._
+
+                  { _Bussy_.
+                  { _Monsieur_.
+  The ghost[s] of { _Guise_.
+                  { _Card. Guise_.
+                  { _Shattilion_.
+
+  _Countesse_ of Cambray.
+  _Tamyra_, wife to Montsureau.
+  _Charlotte [D'Ambois]_, wife to Baligny.
+  _Riova_, a Servant [to the Countesse].
+
+[SCENE: _Paris, and in or near Cambrai_.]
+
+
+
+
+The Revenge
+of
+Bussy D'Ambois
+
+
+A
+Tragedie
+
+
+
+
+  ACTUS PRIMI SCAENA PRIMA.
+
+  _A Room at the Court in Paris._]
+
+
+          _Enter Baligny, Renel._
+
+  _Baligny._ To what will this declining kingdome turne,
+  Swindging in every license, as in this
+  Stupide permission of brave D'Ambois Murther?
+  Murther made paralell with Law! Murther us'd
+  To serve the kingdome, given by sute to men                          5
+  For their advancement! suffered scarcrow-like
+  To fright adulterie! what will policie
+  At length bring under his capacitie?
+
+  _Renel._ All things; for as, when the high births of Kings,
+  Deliverances, and coronations,                                      10
+  We celebrate with all the cities bels
+  Jangling together in untun'd confusion,
+  All order'd clockes are tyed up; so, when glory,
+  Flatterie, and smooth applauses of things ill,
+  Uphold th'inordinate swindge of downe-right power,                  15
+  Justice, and truth that tell the bounded use,
+  Vertuous and well distinguisht formes of time,
+  Are gag'd and tongue-tide. But wee have observ'd
+  Rule in more regular motion: things most lawfull
+  Were once most royall; Kings sought common good,                    20
+  Mens manly liberties, though ne'er so meane,
+  And had their owne swindge so more free, and more.
+  But when pride enter'd them, and rule by power,
+  All browes that smil'd beneath them, frown'd; hearts griev'd
+  By imitation; vertue quite was vanisht,                             25
+  And all men studi'd selfe-love, fraud, and vice.
+  Then no man could be good but he was punisht.
+  Tyrants, being still more fearefull of the good
+  Then of the bad, their subjects vertues ever
+  Manag'd with curbs and dangers, and esteem'd                        30
+  As shadowes and detractions to their owne.
+
+  _Bal._ Now all is peace, no danger, now what followes?
+  Idlenesse rusts us, since no vertuous labour
+  Ends ought rewarded; ease, securitie,
+  Now all the palme weares. Wee made warre before                     35
+  So to prevent warre; men with giving gifts,
+  More then receiving, made our countrey strong;
+  Our matchlesse race of souldiers then would spend
+  In publike warres, not private brawles, their spirits;
+  In daring enemies, arm'd with meanest armes,                        40
+  Not courting strumpets, and consuming birth-rights
+  In apishnesse and envy of attire.
+  No labour then was harsh, no way so deepe,
+  No rocke so steepe, but if a bird could scale it,
+  Up would our youth flie to. A foe in armes                          45
+  Stirr'd up a much more lust of his encounter
+  Then of a mistresse never so be-painted.
+  Ambition then was onely scaling walles,
+  And over-topping turrets; fame was wealth;
+  Best parts, best deedes, were best nobilitie;                       50
+  Honour with worth, and wealth well got or none.
+  Countries we wonne with as few men as countries:
+  Vertue subdu'd all.
+
+  _Ren._              Just: and then our nobles
+  Lov'd vertue so, they prais'd and us'd it to;
+  Had rather doe then say; their owne deedes hearing                  55
+  By others glorified, then be so barraine
+  That their parts onely stood in praising others.
+
+  _Bal._ Who could not doe, yet prais'd, and envi'd not;
+  Civile behaviour flourisht; bountie flow'd;
+  Avarice to upland boores, slaves, hang-men banisht.                 60
+
+  _Ren._ Tis now quite otherwise. But to note the cause
+  Of all these foule digressions and revolts
+  From our first natures, this tis in a word:
+  Since good arts faile, crafts and deceits are us'd:
+  Men ignorant are idle; idle men                                     65
+  Most practise what they most may doe with ease,
+  Fashion and favour; all their studies ayming
+  At getting money, which no wise man ever
+  Fed his desires with.
+
+  _Bal._                Yet now none are wise
+  That thinke not heavens true foolish, weigh'd with that.            70
+  Well, thou most worthy to be greatest Guise,
+  Make with thy greatnesse a new world arise.
+  Such deprest nobles (followers of his)
+  As you, my selfe, my lord, will finde a time
+  When to revenge your wrongs.
+
+  _Ren._                       I make no doubt:                       75
+  In meane time, I could wish the wrong were righted
+  Of your slaine brother in law, brave Bussy D'Ambois.
+
+  _Bal._ That one accident was made my charge.
+  My brother Bussy's sister (now my wife)
+  By no suite would consent to satisfie                               80
+  My love of her with marriage, till I vow'd
+  To use my utmost to revenge my brother:
+  But Clermont D'Ambois (Bussy's second brother)
+  Had, since, his apparition, and excitement
+  To suffer none but his hand in his wreake;                          85
+  Which hee hath vow'd, and so will needes acquite
+  Me of my vow made to my wife, his sister,
+  And undertake himselfe Bussy's revenge.
+  Yet loathing any way to give it act,
+  But in the noblest and most manly course,                           90
+  If th'Earle dares take it, he resolves to send
+  A challenge to him, and my selfe must beare it;
+  To which deliverie I can use no meanes,
+  He is so barricado'd in his house,
+  And arm'd with guard still.
+
+  _Ren._                      That meanes lay on mee,                 95
+  Which I can strangely make. My last lands sale,
+  By his great suite, stands now on price with him,
+  And hee (as you know) passing covetous,
+  With that blinde greedinesse that followes gaine,
+  Will cast no danger where her sweete feete tread.                  100
+  Besides, you know, his lady, by his suite
+  (Wooing as freshly as when first love shot
+  His faultlesse arrowes from her rosie eyes)
+  Now lives with him againe, and shee, I know,
+  Will joyne with all helps in her friends revenge.                  105
+
+  _Bal._ No doubt, my lord, and therefore let me pray you
+  To use all speede; for so on needels points
+  My wifes heart stands with haste of the revenge,
+  Being (as you know) full of her brothers fire,
+  That shee imagines I neglect my vow;                               110
+  Keepes off her kinde embraces, and still askes,
+  "When, when, will this revenge come? when perform'd
+  Will this dull vow be?" And, I vow to heaven,
+  So sternely, and so past her sexe she urges
+  My vowes performance, that I almost feare                          115
+  To see her, when I have a while beene absent,
+  Not showing her, before I speake, the bloud
+  She so much thirsts for, freckling hands and face.
+
+  _Ren._ Get you the challenge writ, and looke from me
+  To heare your passage clear'd no long time after.
+                                                    _Exit Ren[el]._  120
+
+  _Bal._ All restitution to your worthiest lordship!
+  Whose errand I must carrie to the King,
+  As having sworne my service in the search
+  Of all such malecontents and their designes,
+  By seeming one affected with their faction                         125
+  And discontented humours gainst the state:
+  Nor doth my brother Clermont scape my counsaile
+  Given to the King about his Guisean greatnesse,
+  Which (as I spice it) hath possest the King,
+  Knowing his daring spirit, of much danger                          130
+  Charg'd in it to his person; though my conscience
+  Dare sweare him cleare of any power to be
+  Infected with the least dishonestie:
+  Yet that sinceritie, wee politicians
+  Must say, growes out of envie since it cannot                      135
+  Aspire to policies greatnesse; and the more
+  We worke on all respects of kinde and vertue,
+  The more our service to the King seemes great,
+  In sparing no good that seemes bad to him:
+  And the more bad we make the most of good,                         140
+  The more our policie searcheth, and our service
+  Is wonder'd at for wisedome and sincerenesse.
+  Tis easie to make good suspected still,
+  Where good, and God, are made but cloakes for ill.
+
+[Sidenote: _Enter Henry, Monsieur, Guise, Clerm[ont], Espernone,
+Soisson. Monsieur taking leave of the King._]
+
+  See Monsieur taking now his leave for Brabant;                     145
+  The Guise & his deare minion, Clermont D'Ambois,
+  Whispering together, not of state affaires,
+  I durst lay wagers, (though the Guise be now
+  In chiefe heate of his faction) but of some thing
+  Savouring of that which all men else despise,                      150
+  How to be truely noble, truely wise.
+
+  _Monsieur._ See how hee hangs upon the eare of Guise,
+  Like to his jewell!
+
+  _Epernon._          Hee's now whisp'ring in
+  Some doctrine of stabilitie and freedome,
+  Contempt of outward greatnesse, and the guises                     155
+  That vulgar great ones make their pride and zeale,
+  Being onely servile traines, and sumptuous houses,
+  High places, offices.
+
+  _Mons._               Contempt of these
+  Does he read to the Guise? Tis passing needfull,
+  And hee, I thinke, makes show t'affect his doctrine.               160
+
+  _Ep._ Commends, admires it--
+
+  _Mons._                      And pursues another.
+  Tis fine hypocrisie, and cheape, and vulgar,
+  Knowne for a covert practise, yet beleev'd
+  By those abus'd soules that they teach and governe
+  No more then wives adulteries by their husbands,                   165
+  They bearing it with so unmov'd aspects,
+  Hot comming from it, as twere not [at] all,
+  Or made by custome nothing. This same D'Ambois
+  Hath gotten such opinion of his vertues,
+  Holding all learning but an art to live well,                      170
+  And showing hee hath learn'd it in his life,
+  Being thereby strong in his perswading others,
+  That this ambitious Guise, embracing him,
+  Is thought t'embrace his vertues.
+
+  _Ep._                             Yet in some
+  His vertues are held false for th'others vices:                    175
+  For tis more cunning held, and much more common,
+  To suspect truth then falshood: and of both
+  Truth still fares worse, as hardly being beleev'd,
+  As tis unusuall and rarely knowne.
+
+  _Mons._ Ile part engendring vertue. Men affirme,                   180
+  Though this same Clermont hath a D'Ambois spirit,
+  And breathes his brothers valour, yet his temper
+  Is so much past his that you cannot move him:
+  Ile try that temper in him.--Come, you two
+  Devoure each other with your vertues zeale,                        185
+  And leave for other friends no fragment of yee:
+  I wonder, Guise, you will thus ravish him
+  Out of my bosome, that first gave the life
+  His manhood breathes spirit, and meanes, and luster.
+  What doe men thinke of me, I pray thee, Clermont?                  190
+  Once give me leave (for tryall of that love
+  That from thy brother Bussy thou inherit'st)
+  T'unclaspe thy bosome.
+
+  _Clermont._            As how, sir?
+
+  _Mons._ Be a true glasse to mee, in which I may
+  Behold what thoughts the many-headed beast                         195
+  And thou thy selfe breathes out concerning me,
+  My ends and new upstarted state in Brabant,
+  For which I now am bound, my higher aymes
+  Imagin'd here in France: speake, man, and let
+  Thy words be borne as naked as thy thoughts.                       200
+  O were brave Bussy living!
+
+  _Cler._                    Living, my lord!
+
+  _Mons._ Tis true thou art his brother, but durst thou
+  Have brav'd the Guise; mauger his presence, courted
+  His wedded lady; emptied even the dregs
+  Of his worst thoughts of mee even to my teeth;                     205
+  Discern'd not me, his rising soveraigne,
+  From any common groome, but let me heare
+  My grossest faults, as grosse-full as they were?
+  Durst thou doe this?
+
+  _Cler._              I cannot tell. A man
+  Does never know the goodnesse of his stomacke                      210
+  Till hee sees meate before him. Were I dar'd,
+  Perhaps, as he was, I durst doe like him.
+
+  _Mons._ Dare then to poure out here thy freest soule
+  Of what I am.
+
+  _Cler._       Tis stale, he tolde you it.
+
+  _Mons._ He onely jested, spake of splene and envie;                215
+  Thy soule, more learn'd, is more ingenuous,
+  Searching, judiciall; let me then from thee
+  Heare what I am.
+
+  _Cler._          What but the sole support,
+  And most expectant hope of all our France,
+  The toward victor of the whole Low Countryes?                      220
+
+  _Mons._ Tush, thou wilt sing encomions of my praise!
+  Is this like D'Ambois? I must vexe the Guise,
+  Or never looke to heare free truth. Tell me,
+  For Bussy lives not; hee durst anger mee,
+  Yet, for my love, would not have fear'd to anger                   225
+  The King himselfe. Thou understand'st me, dost not?
+
+  _Cler._ I shall my lord, with studie.
+
+  _Mons._ Dost understand thy selfe? I pray thee tell me,
+  Dost never search thy thoughts, what my designe
+  Might be to entertaine thee and thy brother?                       230
+  What turne I meant to serve with you?
+
+  _Cler._ Even what you please to thinke.
+
+  _Mons._                                 But what thinkst thou?
+  Had I no end in't, think'st?
+
+  _Cler._                      I thinke you had.
+
+  _Mons._ When I tooke in such two as you two were,
+  A ragged couple of decaid commanders,                              235
+  When a French-crowne would plentifully serve
+  To buy you both to any thing i'th'earth--
+
+  _Cler._ So it would you.
+
+  _Mons._                  Nay bought you both out-right,
+  You and your trunkes--I feare me, I offend thee.
+
+  _Cler._ No, not a jot.
+
+  _Mons._                The most renowmed souldier,                 240
+  Epaminondas (as good authors say)
+  Had no more suites then backes, but you two shar'd
+  But one suite twixt you both, when both your studies
+  Were not what meate to dine with, if your partridge,
+  Your snipe, your wood-cocke, larke, or your red hering,            245
+  But where to begge it; whether at my house,
+  Or at the Guises (for you know you were
+  Ambitious beggars) or at some cookes-shop,
+  T'eternize the cookes trust, and score it up.
+  Dost not offend thee?
+
+  _Cler._               No, sir. Pray proceede.                      250
+
+  _Mons._ As for thy gentry, I dare boldly take
+  Thy honourable othe: and yet some say
+  Thou and thy most renowmed noble brother
+  Came to the Court first in a keele of sea-coale.
+  Dost not offend thee?
+
+  _Cler._               Never doubt it, sir.                         255
+
+  _Mons._ Why doe I love thee, then? Why have I rak'd thee
+  Out of the dung-hill? cast my cast ward-robe on thee?
+  Brought thee to Court to, as I did thy brother?
+  Made yee my sawcy bon companions?
+  Taught yee to call our greatest Noblemen                           260
+  By the corruption of their names--Jack, Tom?
+  Have I blowne both for nothing to this bubble?
+  Though thou art learn'd, thast no enchanting wit;
+  Or, were thy wit good, am I therefore bound
+  To keepe thee for my table?
+
+  _Cler._                     Well, sir, 'twere                      265
+  A good knights place. Many a proud dubb'd gallant
+  Seekes out a poore knights living from such emrods.
+
+  [_Mons._] Or what use else should I designe thee to?
+  Perhaps you'll answere me--to be my pander.
+
+  _Cler._ Perhaps I shall.
+
+  _Mons._                  Or did the slie Guise put thee            270
+  Into my bosome t'undermine my projects?
+  I feare thee not; for, though I be not sure
+  I have thy heart, I know thy braine-pan yet
+  To be as emptie a dull piece of wainscot
+  As ever arm'd the scalpe of any courtier;                          275
+  A fellow onely that consists of sinewes;
+  Meere Swisser, apt for any execution.
+
+  _Cler._ But killing of the King!
+
+  _Mons._                          Right: now I see
+  Thou understand'st thy selfe.
+
+  _Cler._                       I, and you better.
+  You are a Kings sonne borne.
+
+  _Mons._                      Right.
+
+  _Cler._                             And a Kings brother.           280
+
+  _Mons._ True.
+
+  _Cler._ And might not any foole have beene so too,
+  As well as you?
+
+  _Mons._ A poxe upon you!
+
+  _Cler._                  You did no princely deedes
+  Ere you were borne (I take it) to deserve it;                      285
+  Nor did you any since that I have heard;
+  Nor will doe ever any, as all thinke.
+
+  _Mons._ The Divell take him! Ile no more of him.
+
+  _Guise._ Nay: stay, my lord, and heare him answere you.
+
+  _Mons._ No more, I sweare. Farewell.
+                     _Ex[eunt] Mons[ieur], Esper[none], Soiss[on]._
+
+  _Gui._                               No more! Ill fortune!         290
+  I would have given a million to have heard
+  His scoffes retorted, and the insolence
+  Of his high birth and greatnesse (which were never
+  Effects of his deserts, but of his fortune)
+  Made show to his dull eyes beneath the worth                       295
+  That men aspire to by their knowing vertues,
+  Without which greatnesse is a shade, a bubble.
+
+  _Cler._ But what one great man dreames of that but you?
+  All take their births and birth-rights left to them
+  (Acquir'd by others) for their owne worths purchase,               300
+  When many a foole in both is great as they:
+  And who would thinke they could winne with their worths
+  Wealthy possessions, when, wonne to their hands,
+  They neyther can judge justly of their value,
+  Nor know their use? and therefore they are puft                    305
+  With such proud tumours as this Monsieur is,
+  Enabled onely by the goods they have
+  To scorne all goodnesse: none great fill their fortunes;
+  But as those men that make their houses greater,
+  Their housholds being lesse, so Fortune raises                     310
+  Huge heapes of out-side in these mightie men,
+  And gives them nothing in them.
+
+  _Gui._                          True as truth:
+  And therefore they had rather drowne their substance
+  In superfluities of brickes and stones
+  (Like Sysiphus, advancing of them ever,                            315
+  And ever pulling downe) then lay the cost
+  Of any sluttish corner on a man,
+  Built with Gods finger, and enstil'd his temple.
+
+  _Bal._ Tis nobly said, my lord.
+
+  _Gui._                          I would have these things
+  Brought upon stages, to let mightie misers                         320
+  See all their grave and serious miseries plaid,
+  As once they were in Athens and olde Rome.
+
+  _Cler._ Nay, we must now have nothing brought on stages,
+  But puppetry, and pide ridiculous antickes:
+  Men thither come to laugh, and feede fool-fat,                     325
+  Checke at all goodnesse there, as being prophan'd:
+  When, wheresoever goodnesse comes, shee makes
+  The place still sacred, though with other feete
+  Never so much tis scandal'd and polluted.
+  Let me learne anything that fits a man,                            330
+  In any stables showne, as well as stages.
+
+  _Bal._ Why, is not all the world esteem'd a stage?
+
+  _Cler._ Yes, and right worthily; and stages too
+  Have a respect due to them, if but onely
+  For what the good Greeke moralist sayes of them:                   335
+  "Is a man proud of greatnesse, or of riches?
+  Give me an expert actor, Ile shew all,
+  That can within his greatest glory fall.
+  Is a man fraid with povertie and lownesse?
+  Give me an actor, Ile shew every eye                               340
+  What hee laments so, and so much doth flye,
+  The best and worst of both." If but for this then,
+  To make the proudest out-side that most swels
+  With things without him, and above his worth,
+  See how small cause hee has to be so blowne up;                    345
+  And the most poore man, to be griev'd with poorenesse,
+  Both being so easily borne by expert actors,
+  The stage and actors are not so contemptfull
+  As every innovating Puritane,
+  And ignorant sweater out of zealous envie                          350
+  Would have the world imagine. And besides
+  That all things have been likened to the mirth
+  Us'd upon stages, and for stages fitted,
+  The splenative philosopher, that ever
+  Laught at them all, were worthy the enstaging.                     355
+  All objects, were they ne'er so full of teares,
+  He so conceited that he could distill thence
+  Matter that still fed his ridiculous humour.
+  Heard he a lawyer, never so vehement pleading,
+  Hee stood and laught. Heard hee a trades-man swearing,             360
+  Never so thriftily selling of his wares,
+  He stood and laught. Heard hee an holy brother,
+  For hollow ostentation, at his prayers
+  Ne'er so impetuously, hee stood and laught.
+  Saw hee a great man never so insulting,                            365
+  Severely inflicting, gravely giving lawes,
+  Not for their good, but his, hee stood and laught.
+  Saw hee a youthfull widow
+  Never so weeping, wringing of her hands
+  For her lost lord, still the philosopher laught.                   370
+  Now whether hee suppos'd all these presentments
+  Were onely maskeries, and wore false faces,
+  Or else were simply vaine, I take no care;
+  But still hee laught, how grave soere they were.
+
+  _Gui._ And might right well, my Clermont; and for this             375
+  Vertuous digression we will thanke the scoffes
+  Of vicious Monsieur. But now for the maine point
+  Of your late resolution for revenge
+  Of your slaine friend.
+
+  _Cler._                 I have here my challenge,
+  Which I will pray my brother Baligny                               380
+  To beare the murtherous Earle.
+
+  _Bal._                         I have prepar'd
+  Meanes for accesse to him, through all his guard.
+
+  _Gui._ About it then, my worthy Baligny,
+  And bring us the successe.
+
+  _Bal._                     I will, my lord.             _Exeunt._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Enter Henry . . . King_. Placed by editor after 144
+              instead of 145, as in Q. _Soisson_. Ed.; Q, Foisson.
+
+         167  _at_. Added by ed.
+
+         174  _t'embrace_. Ed.; Q, t'mbrace.
+
+         260  _Noblemen_. Two words in Q.
+
+         268  _Mons_. Q omits; added in MS. in one of the copies
+              in the Brit. Mus.
+
+     278-284  The lines are broken in the Q at _King_, _see_,
+              _selfe_, _better_, _Right_, _True_, _too_, _upon
+              you_, _deedes_.
+
+         285  _you were_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, you're.
+
+         335  _moralist_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Moralists.
+
+      359-61  _Heard . . . wares_. So punctuated by ed.; Q, Heard
+              hee a trades-man swearing | Never so thriftily
+              (selling of his wares).
+
+
+  [SCAENA SECUNDA.
+
+  _A Room in Montsurry's house._]
+
+
+          _Tamyra sola._
+
+  _Tamyra._ Revenge, that ever red sitt'st in the eyes
+  Of injur'd ladies, till we crowne thy browes
+  With bloudy lawrell, and receive from thee
+  Justice for all our honours injurie;
+  Whose wings none flye that wrath or tyrannie                         5
+  Have ruthlesse made and bloudy, enter here,
+  Enter, O enter! and, though length of time
+  Never lets any scape thy constant justice,
+  Yet now prevent that length. Flye, flye, and here
+  Fixe thy steele foot-steps; here, O here, where still               10
+  Earth (mov'd with pittie) yeelded and embrac'd
+  My loves faire figure, drawne in his deare bloud,
+  And mark'd the place, to show thee where was done
+  The cruell'st murther that ere fled the sunne.
+  O Earth! why keep'st thou not as well his spirit,                   15
+  To give his forme life? No, that was not earthly;
+  That (rarefying the thinne and yeelding ayre)
+  Flew sparkling up into the sphaere of fire
+  Whence endlesse flames it sheds in my desire.
+  Here be my daily pallet; here all nights                            20
+  That can be wrested from thy rivals armes,
+  O my deare Bussy, I will lye, and kisse
+  Spirit into thy bloud, or breathe out mine
+  In sighes, and kisses, and sad tunes to thine.       _She sings._
+
+          _Enter Montsurry._
+
+  _Montsurry._ Still on this hant? Still shall adulterous bloud       25
+  Affect thy spirits? Thinke, for shame, but this,
+  This bloud, that cockatrice-like thus thou brood'st,
+  To dry is to breede any quench to thine.
+  And therefore now (if onely for thy lust
+  A little cover'd with a vaile of shame)                             30
+  Looke out for fresh life, rather then witch-like
+  Learne to kisse horror, and with death engender.
+  Strange crosse in nature, purest virgine shame
+  Lies in the bloud as lust lyes; and together
+  Many times mixe too; and in none more shamefull                     35
+  Then in the shamefac't. Who can then distinguish
+  Twixt their affections; or tell when hee meetes
+  With one not common? Yet, as worthiest poets
+  Shunne common and plebeian formes of speech,
+  Every illiberall and affected phrase,                               40
+  To clothe their matter, and together tye
+  Matter and forme with art and decencie;
+  So worthiest women should shunne vulgar guises,
+  And though they cannot but flye out for change,
+  Yet modestie, the matter of their lives,                            45
+  Be it adulterate, should be painted true
+  With modest out-parts; what they should doe still
+  Grac'd with good show, though deedes be ne'er so ill.
+
+  _Tamy._ That is so farre from all yee seeke of us
+  That (though your selves be common as the ayre)                     50
+  We must not take the ayre, wee must not fit
+  Our actions to our owne affections:
+  But as geometricians (you still say)
+  Teach that no lines, nor superficies,
+  Doe move themselves, but still accompanie                           55
+  The motions of their bodies; so poore wives
+  Must not pursue, nor have their owne affections,
+  But to their husbands earnests, and their jests,
+  To their austerities of lookes, and laughters,
+  (Though ne'er so foolish and injurious)                             60
+  Like parasites and slaves, fit their disposures.
+
+  _Mont._ I usde thee as my soule, to move and rule me.
+
+  _Tamy._ So said you, when you woo'd. So souldiers tortur'd
+  With tedious sieges of some wel-wall'd towne,
+  Propound conditions of most large contents,                         65
+  Freedome of lawes, all former government;
+  But having once set foote within the wals,
+  And got the reynes of power into their hands,
+  Then doe they tyrannize at their owne rude swindges,
+  Seaze all their goods, their liberties, and lives,                  70
+  And make advantage, and their lusts, their lawes.
+
+  _Mont._ But love me, and performe a wifes part yet,
+  With all my love before, I sweare forgivenesse.
+
+  _Tamy._ Forgivenesse! that grace you should seeke of mee:
+  These tortur'd fingers and these stab'd-through armes               75
+  Keepe that law in their wounds yet unobserv'd,
+  And ever shall.
+
+  _Mont._         Remember their deserts.
+
+  _Tam._ Those with faire warnings might have beene reform'd,
+  Not these unmanly rages. You have heard
+  The fiction of the north winde and the sunne,                       80
+  Both working on a traveller, and contending
+  Which had most power to take his cloake from him:
+  Which when the winde attempted, hee roar'd out
+  Outragious blasts at him to force it off,
+  That wrapt it closer on: when the calme sunne                       85
+  (The winde once leaving) charg'd him with still beames,
+  Quiet and fervent, and therein was constant,
+  Which made him cast off both his cloake and coate;
+  Like whom should men doe. If yee wish your wives
+  Should leave dislik'd things, seeke it not with rage,               90
+  For that enrages; what yee give, yee have:
+  But use calme warnings, and kinde manly meanes,
+  And that in wives most prostitute will winne
+  Not onely sure amends, but make us wives
+  Better then those that ne'er led faultie lives.                     95
+
+          _Enter a Souldier._
+
+  _Soldier._ My lord.
+
+  _Mont._             How now; would any speake with me?
+
+  _Sold._ I, sir.
+
+  _Mont._         Perverse, and traiterous miscreant!
+  Where are your other fellowes of my guard?
+  Have I not told you I will speake with none
+  But Lord Renel?
+
+  _Sold._         And it is hee that stayes you.                     100
+
+  _Mont._ O, is it he? Tis well: attend him in.   [_Exit Soldier._]
+  I must be vigilant; the Furies haunt mee.
+  Doe you heare, dame?
+
+          _Enter Renel, with the Souldier._
+
+  _Renel [aside, to the Soldier]._ Be true now, for your ladies
+      injur'd sake,
+  Whose bountie you have so much cause to honour:                    105
+  For her respect is chiefe in this designe,
+  And therefore serve it; call out of the way
+  All your confederate fellowes of his guard,
+  Till Monsieur Baligny be enter'd here.
+
+  _Sold._ Upon your honour, my lord shall be free                    110
+  From any hurt, you say?
+
+  _Ren._ Free as my selfe. Watch then, and cleare his entrie.
+
+  _Sold._ I will not faile, my lord.               _Exit Souldier._
+
+  _Ren._                             God save your lordship!
+
+  _Mont._ My noblest Lord Renel! past all men welcome!
+  Wife, welcome his lordship.                          _Osculatur._
+
+  _Ren._ [_to Tam._] I much joy                                      115
+  In your returne here.
+
+  _Tamy._               You doe more then I.
+
+  _Mont._ Shee's passionate still, to thinke we ever parted
+  By my too sterne injurious jelousie.
+
+  _Ren._ Tis well your lordship will confesse your errour
+  In so good time yet.
+
+          _Enter Baligny, with a challenge._
+
+  _Mont._              Death! who have wee here?                     120
+  Ho! Guard! Villaines!
+
+  _Baligny._            Why exclaime you so?
+
+  _Mont._ Negligent trayters! Murther, murther, murther!
+
+  _Bal._ Y'are mad. Had mine entent beene so, like yours,
+  It had beene done ere this.
+
+  _Ren._                      Sir, your intent,
+  And action too, was rude to enter thus.                            125
+
+  _Bal._ Y'are a decaid lord to tell me of rudenesse,
+  As much decaid in manners as in meanes.
+
+  _Ren._ You talke of manners, that thus rudely thrust
+  Upon a man that's busie with his wife!
+
+  _Bal._ And kept your lordship then the dore?
+
+  _Ren._                                       The dore!             130
+
+  _Mont._ Sweet lord, forbeare. Show, show your purpose, sir,
+  To move such bold feete into others roofes.
+
+  _Bal._ This is my purpose, sir; from Clermont D'Ambois
+  I bring this challenge.
+
+  _Mont._                 Challenge! Ile touch none.
+
+  _Bal._ Ile leave it here then.
+
+  _Ren._                         Thou shall leave thy life first.    135
+
+  _Mont._ Murther, murther!
+
+  _Ren._                    Retire, my lord; get off.
+              _They all fight and Bal[igny] drives in Mont[surry]._
+  Hold, or thy death shall hold thee. Hence, my lord!
+
+  _Bal._ There lye the chalenge.                _Exit Mon[tsurry]._
+
+  _Ren._                         Was not this well handled?
+
+  _Bal._ Nobly, my lord. All thankes.             _Exit Bal[igny]._
+
+  _Tamy._                             Ile make him reade it.
+                                                   _Exit Tamy[ra]._
+
+  _Ren._ This was a sleight well maskt. O what is man,               140
+  Unlesse he be a politician!                               _Exit._
+
+          _Finis Actus primi._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+           4  _honours_. Emended by Phelps; Q, humors.
+
+              _Enter Montsurry._ Emended by all editors; Q,
+              Monsieur.
+
+          28  _dry_. Emended by all editors; Q, dye.
+
+          52  _affections_. Q, affectons.
+
+          62  _Mont._ Emended here, and in the stage-directions to
+              the end of the Scene, by Shepherd, Phelps; Q, _Mons._
+
+         100  _it is_. Ed.; Q, tis.
+
+      115-16. Broken in Q at _lordship_, _here_, _I_.
+
+         123  _Y'are_. Emended by Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Ye'are.
+
+      134-36. Broken in Q at first _challenge_, _then_, _murther_,
+              _get off_.
+
+
+  ACTUS SECUNDI SCAENA PRIMA.
+
+  [_A Room at the Court._]
+
+
+          _Henry, Baligny._
+
+  _Henry._ Come, Baligny, we now are private; say,
+  What service bring'st thou? make it short; the Guise
+  (Whose friend thou seem'st) is now in Court, and neare,
+  And may observe us.
+
+  _Baligny._          This, sir, then, in short.
+  The faction of the Guise (with which my policie,                     5
+  For service to your Highnesse, seemes to joyne)
+  Growes ripe, and must be gather'd into hold;
+  Of which my brother Clermont being a part
+  Exceeding capitall, deserves to have
+  A capitall eye on him. And (as you may                              10
+  With best advantage, and your speediest charge)
+  Command his apprehension: which (because
+  The Court, you know, is strong in his defence)
+  Wee must aske country swindge and open fields.
+  And therefore I have wrought him to goe downe                       15
+  To Cambray with me (of which government
+  Your Highnesse bountie made mee your lieutenant),
+  Where when I have him, I will leave my house,
+  And faine some service out about the confines;
+  When, in the meane time, if you please to give                      20
+  Command to my lieutenant, by your letters,
+  To traine him to some muster, where he may
+  (Much to his honour) see for him your forces
+  Put into battaile, when hee comes, hee may
+  With some close stratageme be apprehended:                          25
+  For otherwise your whole powers there will faile
+  To worke his apprehension: and with that
+  My hand needes never be discern'd therein.
+
+  _Hen._ Thankes, honest Baligny.
+
+  _Bal._                          Your Highnesse knowes
+  I will be honest, and betray for you                                30
+  Brother and father; for I know (my lord)
+  Treacherie for Kings is truest loyaltie,
+  Nor is to beare the name of treacherie,
+  But grave, deepe policie. All acts that seeme
+  Ill in particular respects are good                                 35
+  As they respect your universal rule:
+  As in the maine sway of the Universe
+  The supreame Rectors generall decrees,
+  To guard the mightie globes of earth and heaven,
+  Since they make good that guard to preservation                     40
+  Of both those in their order and first end,
+  No mans particular (as hee thinkes) wrong
+  Must hold him wrong'd; no, not though all mens reasons,
+  All law, all conscience, concludes it wrong.
+  Nor is comparison a flatterer                                       45
+  To liken you here to the King of Kings;
+  Nor any mans particular offence
+  Against the worlds sway, to offence at yours
+  In any subject; who as little may
+  Grudge at their particular wrong, if so it seeme                    50
+  For th'universall right of your estate,
+  As, being a subject of the worlds whole sway
+  As well as yours, and being a righteous man
+  To whom heaven promises defence, and blessing,
+  Brought to decay, disgrace, and quite defencelesse,                 55
+  Hee may complaine of heaven for wrong to him.
+
+  _Hen._ Tis true: the simile at all parts holds,
+  As all good subjects hold, that love our favour.
+
+  _Bal._ Which is our heaven here; and a miserie
+  Incomparable, and most truely hellish,                              60
+  To live depriv'd of our Kings grace and countenance,
+  Without which best conditions are most cursed:
+  Life of that nature, howsoever short,
+  Is a most lingering and tedious life;
+  Or rather no life, but a languishing,                               65
+  And an abuse of life.
+
+  _Hen._                Tis well conceited.
+
+  _Bal._ I thought it not amisse to yeeld your Highness
+  A reason of my speeches; lest perhaps
+  You might conceive I flatter'd: which (I know)
+  Of all ils under heaven you most abhorre.                           70
+
+  _Hen._ Still thou art right, my vertuous Baligny,
+  For which I thanke and love thee. Thy advise
+  Ile not forget. Haste to thy government,
+  And carry D'Ambois with thee. So farewell.                _Exit._
+
+  _Bal._ Your Majestie fare ever like it selfe.                       75
+
+          _Enter Guise._
+
+  _Guise._ My sure friend Baligny!
+
+  _Bal._                           Noblest of princes!
+
+  _Gui._ How stands the state of Cambray?
+
+  _Bal._                                  Strong, my lord,
+  And fit for service: for whose readinesse
+  Your creature, Clermont D'Ambois, and my selfe
+  Ride shortly downe.
+
+  _Gui._              That Clermont is my love;                       80
+  France never bred a nobler gentleman
+  For all parts; he exceeds his brother Bussy.
+
+  _Bal._ I, my lord?
+
+  _Gui._             Farre: because (besides his valour)
+  Hee hath the crowne of man and all his parts,
+  Which Learning is; and that so true and vertuous                    85
+  That it gives power to doe as well as say
+  What ever fits a most accomplisht man;
+  Which Bussy, for his valours season, lackt;
+  And so was rapt with outrage oftentimes
+  Beyond decorum; where this absolute Clermont,                       90
+  Though (onely for his naturall zeale to right)
+  Hee will be fiery, when hee sees it crost,
+  And in defence of it, yet when he lists
+  Hee can containe that fire, as hid in embers.
+
+  _Bal._ No question, hee's a true, learn'd gentleman.                95
+
+  _Gui._ He is as true as tides, or any starre
+  Is in his motion; and for his rare learning,
+  Hee is not (as all else are that seeke knowledge)
+  Of taste so much deprav'd that they had rather
+  Delight and satisfie themselves to drinke                          100
+  Of the streame troubled, wandring ne'er so farre
+  From the cleare fount, then of the fount it selfe.
+  In all, Romes Brutus is reviv'd in him,
+  Whom hee of industry doth imitate;
+  Or rather, as great Troys Euphorbus was                            105
+  After Pithagoras, so is Brutus, Clermont.
+  And, were not Brutus a conspirator--
+
+  _Bal._ Conspirator, my lord! Doth that empaire him?
+  Caesar beganne to tyrannize; and when vertue,
+  Nor the religion of the Gods, could serve                          110
+  To curbe the insolence of his proud lawes,
+  Brutus would be the Gods just instrument.
+  What said the Princesse, sweet Antigone,
+  In the grave Greeke tragedian, when the question
+  Twixt her and Creon is for lawes of Kings?                         115
+  Which when he urges, shee replies on him
+  Though his lawes were a Kings, they were not Gods;
+  Nor would shee value Creons written lawes
+  With Gods unwrit edicts, since they last not
+  This day and the next, but every day and ever,                     120
+  Where Kings lawes alter every day and houre,
+  And in that change imply a bounded power.
+
+  _Gui._ Well, let us leave these vaine disputings what
+  Is to be done, and fall to doing something.
+  When are you for your government in Cambray?                       125
+
+  _Bal._ When you command, my lord.
+
+  _Gui._                            Nay, that's not fit.
+  Continue your designements with the King,
+  With all your service; onely, if I send,
+  Respect me as your friend, and love my Clermont.
+
+  _Bal._ Your Highnesse knowes my vowes.
+
+  _Gui._                                  I, tis enough.             130
+                                     _Exit Guise. Manet Bal[igny]._
+
+[Sidenote: +Amechanon de pantos+, &c.
+
+_Impossible est viri cognoscere mentem ac voluntatem, priusquam in
+Magistratibus apparet._
+
+Sopho. _Antig._]
+
+  _Bal._ Thus must wee play on both sides, and thus harten
+  In any ill those men whose good wee hate.
+  Kings may doe what they list, and for Kings, subjects,
+  Eyther exempt from censure or exception;
+  For, as no mans worth can be justly judg'd                         135
+  But when he shines in some authoritie,
+  So no authoritie should suffer censure
+  But by a man of more authoritie.
+  Great vessels into lesse are emptied never,
+  There's a redoundance past their continent ever.                   140
+  These _virtuosi_ are the poorest creatures;
+  For looke how spinners weave out of themselves
+  Webs, whose strange matter none before can see;
+  So these, out of an unseene good in vertue,
+  Make arguments of right and comfort in her,                        145
+  That clothe them like the poore web of a spinner.
+
+           _Enter Clermont._
+
+  _Clermont._ Now, to my challenge. What's the place, the weapon?
+
+  _Bal._ Soft, sir! let first your challenge be received.
+  Hee would not touch, nor see it.
+
+  _Cler._                          Possible!
+  How did you then?
+
+  _Bal._            Left it, in his despight.                        150
+  But when hee saw mee enter so expectlesse,
+  To heare his base exclaimes of "murther, murther,"
+  Made mee thinke noblesse lost, in him quicke buried.
+
+[Sidenote: _Quo mollius degunt, eo servilius._
+
+Epict.]
+
+  _Cler._ They are the breathing sepulchres of noblesse:
+  No trulier noble men then lions pictures,                          155
+  Hung up for signes, are lions. Who knowes not
+  That lyons the more soft kept, are more servile?
+  And looke how lyons close kept, fed by hand,
+  Lose quite th'innative fire of spirit and greatnesse
+  That lyons free breathe, forraging for prey,                       160
+  And grow so grosse that mastifes, curs, and mungrils
+  Have spirit to cow them: so our soft French Nobles
+  Chain'd up in ease and numbd securitie
+  (Their spirits shrunke up like their covetous fists,
+  And never opened but Domitian-like,                                165
+  And all his base, obsequious minions
+  When they were catching though it were but flyes),
+  Besotted with their pezzants love of gaine,
+  Rusting at home, and on each other preying,
+  Are for their greatnesse but the greater slaves,                   170
+  And none is noble but who scrapes and saves.
+
+  _Bal._ Tis base, tis base; and yet they thinke them high.
+
+  _Cler._ So children mounted on their hobby-horse
+  Thinke they are riding, when with wanton toile
+  They beare what should beare them. A man may well                  175
+  Compare them to those foolish great-spleen'd cammels,
+  That to their high heads beg'd of Jove hornes higher;
+  Whose most uncomely and ridiculous pride
+  When hee had satisfied, they could not use,
+  But where they went upright before, they stoopt,                   180
+  And bore their heads much lower for their hornes:    Simil[iter.]
+  As these high men doe, low in all true grace,
+  Their height being priviledge to all things base.
+  And as the foolish poet that still writ
+  All his most selfe-lov'd verse in paper royall,                    185
+  Or partchment rul'd with lead, smooth'd with the pumice,
+  Bound richly up, and strung with crimson strings;
+  Never so blest as when hee writ and read
+  The ape-lov'd issue of his braine; and never
+  But joying in himselfe, admiring ever:                             190
+  Yet in his workes behold him, and hee show'd
+  Like to a ditcher. So these painted men,
+  All set on out-side, looke upon within,
+  And not a pezzants entrailes you shall finde
+  More foule and mezel'd, nor more sterv'd of minde.                 195
+
+  _Bal._ That makes their bodies fat. I faine would know
+  How many millions of our other Nobles
+  Would make one Guise. There is a true tenth Worthy,
+  Who, did not one act onely blemish him--
+
+  _Cler._ One act! what one?
+
+  _Bal._                     One that (though yeeres past done)      200
+  Stickes by him still, and will distaine him ever.
+
+  _Cler._ Good heaven! wherein? what one act can you name
+  Suppos'd his staine that Ile not prove his luster?
+
+  _Bal._ To satisfie you, twas the Massacre.
+
+  _Cler._ The Massacre! I thought twas some such blemish.            205
+
+  _Bal._ O, it was hainous!
+
+  _Cler._                   To a brutish sense,
+  But not a manly reason. Wee so tender
+  The vile part in us that the part divine
+  We see in hell, and shrinke not. Who was first
+  Head of that Massacre?
+
+  _Bal._                 The Guise.
+
+  _Cler._                           Tis nothing so.                  210
+  Who was in fault for all the slaughters made
+  In Ilion, and about it? Were the Greekes?
+  Was it not Paris ravishing the Queene
+  Of Lacaedemon; breach of shame and faith,
+  And all the lawes of hospitalitie?                                 215
+  This is the beastly slaughter made of men,
+  When truth is over-throwne, his lawes corrupted;
+  When soules are smother'd in the flatter'd flesh,
+  Slaine bodies are no more then oxen slaine.
+
+  _Bal._ Differ not men from oxen?
+
+  _Cler._                          Who sayes so?                     220
+  But see wherein; in the understanding rules
+  Of their opinions, lives, and actions;
+  In their communities of faith and reason.
+  Was not the wolfe that nourisht Romulus
+  More humane then the men that did expose him?                      225
+
+  _Bal._ That makes against you.
+
+  _Cler._                        Not, sir, if you note
+  That by that deede, the actions difference make
+  Twixt men and beasts, and not their names nor formes.
+  Had faith, nor shame, all hospitable rights
+  Beene broke by Troy, Greece had not made that slaughter.           230
+  Had that beene sav'd (sayes a philosopher)
+  The Iliads and Odysses had beene lost.
+  Had Faith and true Religion beene prefer'd
+  Religious Guise had never massacerd.
+
+  _Bal._ Well, sir, I cannot, when I meete with you,                 235
+  But thus digresse a little, for my learning,
+  From any other businesse I entend.
+  But now the voyage we resolv'd for Cambray,
+  I told the Guise, beginnes; and wee must haste.
+  And till the Lord Renel hath found some meane                      240
+  (Conspiring with the Countesse) to make sure
+  Your sworne wreake on her husband, though this fail'd,
+  In my so brave command wee'll spend the time,
+  Sometimes in training out in skirmishes
+  And battailes all our troopes and companies;                       245
+  And sometimes breathe your brave Scotch running horse,
+  That great Guise gave you, that all th'horse in France
+  Farre over-runnes at every race and hunting
+  Both of the hare and deere. You shall be honor'd
+  Like the great Guise himselfe, above the King.                     250
+  And (can you but appease your great-spleen'd sister
+  For our delaid wreake of your brothers slaughter)
+  At all parts you'll be welcom'd to your wonder.
+
+  _Cler._ Ile see my lord the Guise againe before
+  Wee take our journey?
+
+  _Bal._                O, sir, by all meanes;                       255
+  You cannot be too carefull of his love,
+  That ever takes occasion to be raising
+  Your virtues past the reaches of this age,
+  And rankes you with the best of th'ancient Romanes.
+
+  _Cler._ That praise at no part moves mee, but the worth            260
+  Of all hee can give others spher'd in him.
+
+  _Bal._ Hee yet is thought to entertaine strange aymes.
+
+  _Cler._ He may be well; yet not, as you thinke, strange.
+  His strange aymes are to crosse the common custome
+  Of servile Nobles; in which hee's so ravisht,                      265
+  That quite the earth he leaves, and up hee leapes
+  On Atlas shoulders, and from thence lookes downe,
+  Viewing how farre off other high ones creepe;
+  Rich, poore of reason, wander; all pale looking,
+  And trembling but to thinke of their sure deaths,                  270
+  Their lives so base are, and so rancke their breaths.
+  Which I teach Guise to heighten, and make sweet
+  With lifes deare odors, a good minde and name;
+  For which hee onely loves me, and deserves
+  My love and life, which through all deaths I vow:                  275
+  Resolving this (what ever change can be)
+  Thou hast created, thou hast ruinde mee.                  _Exit._
+
+          _Finis Actus secundi._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              +Amechanon+ (misprinted +Aukchanou+) . . . _Antig._
+              In left margin of Q.
+
+
+
+
+  ACTUS TERTII SCAENA PRIMA.
+
+  [_A Parade-Ground near Cambrai._]
+
+
+          _A march of Captaines over the Stage._
+
+          _Maillard, Chalon, Aumall following with Souldiers._
+
+  _Maillard._ These troopes and companies come in with wings:
+  So many men, so arm'd, so gallant horse,
+  I thinke no other government in France
+  So soone could bring together. With such men
+  Me thinkes a man might passe th'insulting Pillars                    5
+  Of Bacchus and Alcides.
+
+  _Chalon._               I much wonder
+  Our Lord Lieutenant brought his brother downe
+  To feast and honour him, and yet now leaves him
+  At such an instance.
+
+  _Mail._              Twas the Kings command;
+  For whom he must leave brother, wife, friend, all things.           10
+
+  _Aumale._ The confines of his government, whose view
+  Is the pretext of his command, hath neede
+  Of no such sodaine expedition.
+
+  _Mail._ Wee must not argue that. The Kings command
+  Is neede and right enough: and that he serves,                      15
+  (As all true subjects should) without disputing.
+
+  _Chal._ But knowes not hee of your command to take
+  His brother Clermont?
+
+  _Mail._               No: the Kings will is
+  Expressely to conceale his apprehension
+  From my Lord Governour. Observ'd yee not?                           20
+  Againe peruse the letters. Both you are
+  Made my assistants, and have right and trust
+  In all the waightie secrets like my selfe.
+
+  _Aum._ Tis strange a man that had, through his life past,
+  So sure a foote in vertue and true knowledge                        25
+  As Clermont D'Ambois, should be now found tripping,
+  And taken up thus, so to make his fall
+  More steepe and head-long.
+
+  _Mail._                    It is Vertues fortune,
+  To keepe her low, and in her proper place;
+  Height hath no roome for her. But as a man                          30
+  That hath a fruitfull wife, and every yeere
+  A childe by her, hath every yeere a month
+  To breathe himselfe, where hee that gets no childe
+  Hath not a nights rest (if he will doe well);
+  So, let one marry this same barraine Vertue,                        35
+  She never lets him rest, where fruitfull Vice
+  Spares her rich drudge, gives him in labour breath,
+  Feedes him with bane, and makes him fat with death.
+
+  _Chal._ I see that good lives never can secure
+  Men from bad livers. Worst men will have best                       40
+  As ill as they, or heaven to hell they'll wrest.
+
+  _Aum._ There was a merit for this, in the fault
+  That Bussy made, for which he (doing pennance)
+  Proves that these foule adulterous guilts will runne
+  Through the whole bloud, which not the cleare can shunne.           45
+
+  _Mail._ Ile therefore take heede of the bastarding
+  Whole innocent races; tis a fearefull thing.
+  And as I am true batcheler, I sweare,
+  To touch no woman (to the coupling ends)
+  Unlesse it be mine owne wife or my friends;                         50
+  I may make bold with him.
+
+  _Aum._                    Tis safe and common.
+  The more your friend dares trust, the more deceive him.
+  And as through dewie vapors the sunnes forme
+  Makes the gay rainebow girdle to a storme,
+  So in hearts hollow, friendship (even the sunne                     55
+  To all good growing in societie)
+  Makes his so glorious and divine name hold
+  Collours for all the ill that can be told.     _Trumpets within._
+
+  _Mail._ Harke! our last troopes are come.
+
+  _Chal._ (_Drums beate._) Harke! our last foote.
+
+  _Mail._ Come, let us put all quickly into battaile,                 60
+  And send for Clermont, in whose honour all
+  This martiall preparation wee pretend.
+
+  _Chal._ Wee must bethinke us, ere wee apprehend him,
+  (Besides our maine strength) of some stratageme
+  To make good our severe command on him,                             65
+  As well to save blood as to make him sure:
+  For if hee come on his Scotch horse, all France
+  Put at the heeles of him will faile to take him.
+
+  _Mail._ What thinke you if wee should disguise a brace
+  Of our best souldiers in faire lackies coates,                      70
+  And send them for him, running by his side,
+  Till they have brought him in some ambuscado
+  We close may lodge for him, and sodainely
+  Lay sure hand on him, plucking him from horse?
+
+  _Aum._ It must be sure and strong hand; for if once                 75
+  Hee feeles the touch of such a stratageme,
+  Tis not choicest brace of all our bands
+  Can manacle or quench his fiery hands.
+
+  _Mail._ When they have seaz'd him, the ambush shal make in.
+
+  _Aum._ Doe as you please; his blamelesse spirit deserves            80
+  (I dare engage my life) of all this, nothing.
+
+  _Chal._ Why should all this stirre be, then?
+
+  _Aum._                                       Who knowes not
+  The bumbast politie thrusts into his gyant,
+  To make his wisedome seeme of size as huge,
+  And all for sleight encounter of a shade,                           85
+  So hee be toucht, hee would have hainous made?
+
+  _Mail._ It may be once so; but so ever, never.
+  Ambition is abroad, on foote, on horse;
+  Faction chokes every corner, streete, the Court;
+  Whose faction tis you know, and who is held                         90
+  The fautors right hand: how high his aymes reach
+  Nought but a crowne can measure. This must fall
+  Past shadowes waights, and is most capitall.
+
+  _Chal._ No question; for since hee is come to Cambray,
+  The malecontent, decaid Marquesse Renel,                            95
+  Is come, and new arriv'd; and made partaker
+  Of all the entertaining showes and feasts
+  That welcom'd Clermont to the brave virago,
+  His manly sister. Such wee are esteem'd
+  As are our consorts. Marquesse malecontent                         100
+  Comes where hee knowes his vaine hath safest vent.
+
+  _Mail._ Let him come at his will, and goe as free;
+  Let us ply Clermont, our whole charge is hee.           _Exeunt._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Trumpets within. Drums beate._ In Q these directions
+              follow instead of precede l. 59.
+
+              _Exeunt._ Q, Exit.
+
+
+  [SCAENA SECUNDA.
+
+  _A Room in the Governor's Castle at Cambrai._]
+
+
+          _Enter a Gentleman Usher before Clermont: Renel, Charlotte,
+          with two women attendants, with others: showes having past
+          within._
+
+  _Charlotte._ This for your lordships welcome into Cambray.
+
+  _Renel._ Noblest of ladies, tis beyond all power
+  (Were my estate at first full) in my meanes
+  To quit or merit.
+
+  _Clermont._       You come something latter
+  From Court, my lord, then I: and since newes there                   5
+  Is every day encreasing with th'affaires,
+  Must I not aske now, what the newes is there?
+  Where the Court lyes? what stirre? change? what avise
+  From England, Italie?
+
+  _Ren._                You must doe so,
+  If you'll be cald a gentleman well quallified,                      10
+  And weare your time and wits in those discourses.
+
+  _Cler._ The Locrian princes therefore were brave rulers;
+  For whosoever there came new from countrie,
+  And in the citie askt, "What newes?" was punisht:
+  Since commonly such braines are most delighted                      15
+  With innovations, gossips tales, and mischiefes.
+  But as of lyons it is said and eagles,
+  That, when they goe, they draw their seeres and tallons
+  Close up, to shunne rebating of their sharpnesse:
+  So our wits sharpnesse, which wee should employ                     20
+  In noblest knowledge, wee should never waste
+  In vile and vulgar admirations.
+
+  _Ren._ Tis right; but who, save onely you, performes it,
+  And your great brother? Madame, where is he?
+
+  _Char._ Gone, a day since, into the countries confines,             25
+  To see their strength, and readinesse for service.
+
+  _Ren._ Tis well; his favour with the King hath made him
+  Most worthily great, and live right royally.
+
+  _Cler._ I: would hee would not doe so! Honour never
+  Should be esteem'd with wise men as the price                       30
+  And value of their virtuous services,
+  But as their signe or badge; for that bewrayes
+  More glory in the outward grace of goodnesse
+  Then in the good it selfe; and then tis said,
+  Who more joy takes that men his good advance                        35
+  Then in the good it selfe, does it by chance.
+
+  _Char._ My brother speakes all principle. What man
+  Is mov'd with your soule? or hath such a thought
+  In any rate of goodnesse?
+
+  _Cler._                   Tis their fault.
+  We have examples of it, cleare and many.                            40
+  Demetrius Phalerius, an orator,
+  And (which not oft meete) a philosopher,
+  So great in Athens grew that he erected
+  Three hundred statues of him; of all which,
+  No rust nor length of time corrupted one;                           45
+  But in his life time all were overthrowne.
+  And Demades (that past Demosthenes
+  For all extemporall orations)
+  Erected many statues, which (he living)
+  Were broke, and melted into chamber-pots.                           50
+  Many such ends have fallen on such proud honours,
+  No more because the men on whom they fell
+  Grew insolent and left their vertues state,
+  Then for their hugenesse, that procur'd their hate:
+  And therefore little pompe in men most great                        55
+  Makes mightily and strongly to the guard
+  Of what they winne by chance or just reward.
+  Great and immodest braveries againe,
+  Like statues much too high made for their bases,
+  Are overturn'd as soone as given their places.                      60
+
+          _Enter a Messenger with a Letter._
+
+  _Messenger._ Here is a letter, sir, deliver'd mee
+  Now at the fore-gate by a gentleman.
+
+  _Cler._ What gentleman?
+
+  _Mess._                 Hee would not tell his name;
+  Hee said, hee had not time enough to tell it,
+  And say the little rest hee had to say.                             65
+
+  _Cler._ That was a merry saying; he tooke measure
+  Of his deare time like a most thriftie husband.
+
+  _Char._ What newes?
+
+  _Cler._             Strange ones, and fit for a novation;
+  Waightie, unheard of, mischievous enough.
+
+  _Ren._ Heaven shield! what are they?
+
+  _Cler._                              Read them, good my lord.       70
+
+  _Ren._ "You are betraid into this countrie." Monstrous!
+
+  _Char._ How's that?
+
+  _Cler._ Read on.
+
+  _Ren._ "Maillard, your brothers Lieutenant,
+  that yesterday invited you to see his musters,                      75
+  hath letters and strickt charge from the King to
+  apprehend you."
+
+  _Char._ To apprehend him!
+
+  _Ren._ "Your brother absents himselfe of
+  purpose."                                                           80
+
+  _Cler._ That's a sound one.
+
+  _Char._ That's a lye.
+
+  _Ren._ "Get on your Scotch horse, and retire
+  to your strength; you know where it is, and
+  there it expects you. Beleeve this as your best                     85
+  friend had sworne it. Fare-well if you will.
+  Anonymos." What's that?
+
+  _Cler._ Without a name.
+
+  _Char._ And all his notice, too, without all truth.
+
+  _Cler._ So I conceive it, sister: ile not wrong                     90
+  My well knowne brother for Anonymos.
+
+  _Char._ Some foole hath put this tricke on you, yet more
+  T'uncover your defect of spirit and valour,
+  First showne in lingring my deare brothers wreake.
+  See what it is to give the envious world                            95
+  Advantage to diminish eminent virtue.
+  Send him a challenge. Take a noble course
+  To wreake a murther, done so like a villaine.
+
+  _Cler._ Shall we revenge a villanie with villanie.
+
+  _Char._ Is it not equall?
+
+  _Cler._                   Shall wee equall be with villaines?      100
+  Is that your reason?
+
+  _Char._              Cowardise evermore
+  Flyes to the shield of reason.
+
+  _Cler._                        Nought that is
+  Approv'd by reason can be cowardise.
+
+  _Char._ Dispute, when you should fight! Wrong, wreaklesse
+      sleeping,
+  Makes men dye honorlesse; one borne, another                       105
+  Leapes on our shoulders.
+
+  _Cler._                  Wee must wreake our wrongs
+  So as wee take not more.
+
+  _Char._                  One wreakt in time
+  Prevents all other. Then shines vertue most
+  When time is found for facts; and found, not lost.
+
+  _Cler._ No time occurres to Kings, much lesse to vertue;           110
+  Nor can we call it vertue that proceedes
+  From vicious fury. I repent that ever
+  (By any instigation in th'appearance
+  My brothers spirit made, as I imagin'd)
+  That e'er I yeelded to revenge his murther.                        115
+  All worthy men should ever bring their bloud
+  To beare all ill, not to be wreakt with good.
+  Doe ill for no ill; never private cause
+  Should take on it the part of publike lawes.
+
+  _Char._ A D'Ambois beare in wrong so tame a spirit!                120
+
+  _Ren._ Madame, be sure there will be time enough
+  For all the vengeance your great spirit can wish.
+  The course yet taken is allow'd by all,
+  Which being noble, and refus'd by th'Earle,
+  Now makes him worthy of your worst advantage:                      125
+  And I have cast a project with the Countesse
+  To watch a time when all his wariest guards
+  Shall not exempt him. Therefore give him breath;
+  Sure death delaid is a redoubled death.
+
+  _Cler._ Good sister, trouble not your selfe with this:             130
+  Take other ladyes care; practise your face.
+  There's the chaste matron, Madame Perigot,
+  Dwels not farre hence; Ile ride and send her to you.
+  Shee did live by retailing mayden-heads
+  In her minoritie; but now shee deales                              135
+  In whole-sale altogether for the Court.
+  I tell you, shee's the onely fashion-monger,
+  For your complexion, poudring of your haire,
+  Shadowes, rebatoes, wires, tyres, and such trickes,
+  That Cambray or, I thinke, the Court affords.                      140
+  She shall attend you, sister, and with these
+  Womanly practises emply your spirit;
+  This other suites you not, nor fits the fashion.
+  Though shee be deare, lay't on, spare for no cost;
+  Ladies in these have all their bounties lost.                      145
+
+  _Ren._ Madame, you see, his spirit will not checke
+  At any single danger, when it stands
+  Thus merrily firme against an host of men,
+  Threaten'd to be [in] armes for his surprise.
+
+  _Char._ That's a meere bugge-beare, an impossible mocke.           150
+  If hee, and him I bound by nuptiall faith,
+  Had not beene dull and drossie in performing
+  Wreake of the deare bloud of my matchlesse brother,
+  What Prince, what King, which of the desperat'st ruffings,
+  Outlawes in Arden, durst have tempted thus                         155
+  One of our bloud and name, be't true or false?
+
+  _Cler._ This is not caus'd by that; twill be as sure
+  As yet it is not, though this should be true.
+
+  _Char._ True, tis past thought false.
+
+  _Cler._                               I suppose the worst,
+  Which farre I am from thinking; and despise                        160
+  The armie now in battaile that should act it.
+
+  [_Char._] I would not let my bloud up to that thought,
+  But it should cost the dearest bloud in France.
+
+  _Cler._ Sweet sister, (_osculatur_) farre be both off as the fact
+  Of my fain'd apprehension.
+
+  _Char._                    I would once                            165
+  Strip off my shame with my attire, and trie
+  If a poore woman, votist of revenge,
+  Would not performe it with a president
+  To all you bungling, foggy-spirited men.
+  But for our birth-rights honour, doe not mention                   170
+  One syllable of any word may goe
+  To the begetting of an act so tender
+  And full of sulphure as this letters truth:
+  It comprehends so blacke a circumstance
+  Not to be nam'd, that but to forme one thought,                    175
+  It is or can be so, would make me mad.
+  Come, my lord, you and I will fight this dreame
+  Out at the chesse.
+
+  _Ren._             Most gladly, worthiest ladie.
+                                  _Exeunt Char[lotte] and Ren[el]._
+
+          _Enter a Messenger._
+
+  _Messenger._ Sir, my Lord Governours Lieutenant prayes
+  Accesse to you.
+
+  _Cler._         Himselfe alone?
+
+  _Mess._                         Alone, sir.                        180
+
+  _Cler._ Attend him in. (_Exit Messenger._) Now comes this plot to
+      tryall;
+  I shall descerne (if it be true as rare)
+  Some sparkes will flye from his dissembling eyes.
+  Ile sound his depth.
+
+          _Enter Maillard with the Messenger._
+
+  _Maillard._          Honour, and all things noble!
+
+  _Cler._ As much to you, good Captaine. What's th'affaire?          185
+
+  _Mail._ Sir, the poore honour we can adde to all
+  Your studyed welcome to this martiall place,
+  In presentation of what strength consists
+  My lord your brothers government, is readie.
+  I have made all his troopes and companies                          190
+  Advance and put themselves in battailia,
+  That you may see both how well arm'd they are
+  How strong is every troope and companie,
+  How ready, and how well prepar'd for service.
+
+  _Cler._ And must they take mee?
+
+  _Mail._                         Take you, sir! O heaven!           195
+
+  _Mess._ [_aside, to Clermont_]. Beleeve it, sir, his count'nance
+      chang'd in turning.
+
+  _Mail._ What doe you meane, sir?
+
+  _Cler._                          If you have charg'd them,
+  You being charg'd your selfe, to apprehend mee,
+  Turne not your face; throw not your lookes about so.
+
+  _Mail._ Pardon me, sir. You amaze me to conceive                   200
+  From whence our wils to honour you should turne
+  To such dishonour of my lord, your brother.
+  Dare I, without him, undertake your taking?
+
+  _Cler._ Why not? by your direct charge from the King.
+
+  _Mail._ By my charge from the King! would he so much               205
+  Disgrace my lord, his owne Lieutenant here,
+  To give me his command without his forfaite?
+
+  _Cler._ Acts that are done by Kings, are not askt why.
+  Ile not dispute the case, but I will search you.
+
+  _Mail._ Search mee! for what?
+
+  _Cler._                       For letters.
+
+  _Mail._                                    I beseech you,          210
+  Doe not admit one thought of such a shame
+  To a commander.
+
+  _Cler._         Goe to! I must doo't.
+  Stand and be searcht; you know mee.
+
+  _Mail._                             You forget
+  What tis to be a captaine, and your selfe.
+
+  _Cler._ Stand, or I vow to heaven, Ile make you lie,               215
+  Never to rise more.
+
+  _Mail._             If a man be mad,
+  Reason must beare him.
+
+  _Cler._                So coy to be searcht?
+
+  _Mail._ Sdeath, sir, use a captaine like a carrier!
+
+  _Cler._ Come, be not furious; when I have done,
+  You shall make such a carrier of me,                               220
+  If't be your pleasure: you're my friend, I know,
+  And so am bold with you.
+
+  _Mail._                  You'll nothing finde
+  Where nothing is.
+
+  _Cler._           Sweare you have nothing.
+
+  _Mail._ Nothing you seeke, I sweare. I beseech you,
+  Know I desir'd this out of great affection,                        225
+  To th'end my lord may know out of your witnesse
+  His forces are not in so bad estate
+  As hee esteem'd them lately in your hearing;
+  For which he would not trust me with the confines,
+  But went himselfe to witnesse their estate.                        230
+
+  _Cler._ I heard him make that reason, and am sorie
+  I had no thought of it before I made
+  Thus bold with you, since tis such ruberb to you.
+  Ile therefore search no more. If you are charg'd
+  (By letters from the King, or otherwise)                           235
+  To apprehend me, never spice it more
+  With forc'd tearmes of your love, but say: I yeeld;
+  Holde, take my sword, here; I forgive thee freely;
+  Take; doe thine office.
+
+  _Mail._                 Sfoote! you make m'a hang-man;
+  By all my faith to you, there's no such thing.                     240
+
+  _Cler._ Your faith to mee!
+
+  _Mail._                    My faith to God; all's one:
+  Who hath no faith to men, to God hath none.
+
+  _Cler._ In that sense I accept your othe, and thanke you.
+  I gave my word to goe, and I will goe.        _Exit Cler[mont]._
+
+  _Mail._ Ile watch you whither.                _Exit Mail[lard]._
+
+  _Mess._                        If hee goes, hee proves             245
+  How vaine are mens fore knowledges of things,
+  When heaven strikes blinde their powers of note and use,
+  And makes their way to ruine seeme more right
+  Then that which safetie opens to their sight.
+  Cassandra's prophecie had no more profit                           250
+  With Troyes blinde citizens, when shee foretolde
+  Troyes ruine; which, succeeding, made her use
+  This sacred inclamation: "God" (said shee)
+  "Would have me utter things uncredited;
+  For which now they approve what I presag'd;                        255
+  They count me wise, that said before, I rag'd."         [_Exit._]
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+          12  _Rulers_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Rubers.
+
+          74  _your_. Ed.; Q, you.
+
+         149  _in_. Added by ed.
+
+         155  _Arden_. Q, Acden.
+
+         162  _Char._ Q, Cler.
+
+
+  [SCAENA TERTIA.
+
+  _A Camp near Cambrai._]
+
+
+          _Enter Challon with two Souldiers._
+
+  _Chalon._ Come, souldiers: you are downewards fit for lackies;
+  Give me your pieces, and take you these coates,
+  To make you compleate foot men, in whose formes
+  You must be compleate souldiers: you two onely
+  Stand for our armie.
+
+  _1[st Soldier.]_     That were much.
+
+  _Chal._                              Tis true;                       5
+  You two must doe, or enter, what our armie
+  Is now in field for.
+
+  _2[d Sol.]_          I see then our guerdon
+  Must be the deede it selfe, twill be such honour.
+
+  _Chal._ What fight souldiers most for?
+
+  _1[st Sol.]_                           Honour onely.
+
+  _Chal._ Yet here are crownes beside.
+
+  _Ambo._                              We thanke you, Captaine.       10
+
+  _2[d Sol.]_ Now, sir, how show wee?
+
+  _Chal._                             As you should at all parts.
+  Goe now to Clermont D'Ambois, and informe him,
+  Two battailes are set ready in his honour,
+  And stay his presence onely for their signall,
+  When they shall joyne; and that, t'attend him hither                15
+  Like one wee so much honour, wee have sent him--
+
+  _1[st Sol.]_ Us two in person.
+
+  _Chal._                        Well, sir, say it so;
+  And having brought him to the field, when I
+  Fall in with him, saluting, get you both
+  Of one side of his horse, and plucke him downe,                     20
+  And I with th'ambush laid will second you.
+
+  _1[st Sol.]_ Nay, we shall lay on hands of too much strength
+  To neede your secondings.
+
+  _2[d Sol.]_               I hope we shall.
+  Two are enough to encounter Hercules.
+
+  _Chal._ Tis well said, worthy souldiers; hast, and hast him.
+                                                        [_Exeunt._]   25
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Exeunt._ Q, Exit.
+
+
+  [SCAENA QUARTA.
+
+  _A Room in the Governor's Castle at Cambrai._]
+
+
+          _Enter Clermont, Maillard close following him._
+
+  _Clermont._ My Scotch horse to their armie--
+
+  _Maillard._                                  Please you, sir?
+
+  _Cler._ Sdeath! you're passing diligent.
+
+  _Mail._                                  Of my soule,
+  Tis onely in my love to honour you
+  With what would grace the King: but since I see
+  You still sustaine a jealous eye on mee,                             5
+  Ile goe before.
+
+  _Cler._         Tis well; Ile come; my hand.
+
+  _Mail._ Your hand, sir! Come, your word; your choise be us'd.
+                                                            _Exit._
+
+          _Clermont solus._
+
+  _Cler._ I had an aversation to this voyage,
+  When first my brother mov'd it, and have found
+  That native power in me was never vaine;                            10
+  Yet now neglected it. I wonder much
+  At my inconstancie in these decrees
+  I every houre set downe to guide my life.
+  When Homer made Achilles passionate,
+  Wrathfull, revengefull, and insatiate                               15
+  In his affections, what man will denie
+  He did compose it all of industrie
+  To let men see that men of most renowne,
+  Strong'st, noblest, fairest, if they set not downe
+  Decrees within them, for disposing these,                           20
+  Of judgement, resolution, uprightnesse,
+  And certaine knowledge of their use and ends,
+  Mishap and miserie no lesse extends
+  To their destruction, with all that they pris'd,
+  Then to the poorest and the most despis'd?                          25
+
+          _Enter Renel._
+
+  _Renel._ Why, how now, friend, retir'd! take heede you prove not
+  Dismaid with this strange fortune. All observe you:
+  Your government's as much markt as the Kings.
+  What said a friend to Pompey?
+
+  _Cler._                       What?
+
+  _Ren._                              The people
+  Will never know, unlesse in death thou trie,                        30
+  That thou know'st how to beare adversitie.
+
+  _Cler._ I shall approve how vile I value feare
+  Of death at all times; but to be too rash,
+  Without both will and care to shunne the worst,
+  (It being in power to doe well and with cheere)                     35
+  Is stupid negligence and worse then feare.
+
+  _Ren._ Suppose this true now.
+
+  _Cler._                       No, I cannot doo't.
+  My sister truely said, there hung a taile
+  Of circumstance so blacke on that supposure,
+  That to sustaine it thus abhorr'd our mettall.                      40
+  And I can shunne it too, in spight of all,
+  Not going to field; and there to, being so mounted
+  As I will, since I goe.
+
+  _Ren._                  You will then goe?
+
+  _Cler._ I am engag'd both in my word and hand.
+  But this is it that makes me thus retir'd,                          45
+  To call my selfe t'account, how this affaire
+  Is to be manag'd, if the worst should chance:
+  With which I note, how dangerous it is
+  For any man to prease beyond the place
+  To which his birth, or meanes, or knowledge ties him.               50
+  For my part, though of noble birth, my birthright
+  Had little left it, and I know tis better
+  To live with little, and to keepe within
+  A mans owne strength still, and in mans true end,
+  Then runne a mixt course. Good and bad hold never                   55
+  Any thing common; you can never finde
+  Things outward care, but you neglect your minde.
+  God hath the whole world perfect made and free;
+  His parts to th'use of th'All. Men, then, that are
+  Parts of that All, must, as the generall sway                       60
+  Of that importeth, willingly obay
+  In every thing without their power to change.
+  Hee that, unpleas'd to hold his place, will range,
+  Can in no other be contain'd that's fit,
+  And so resisting th'All is crusht with it:                          65
+  But he that knowing how divine a frame
+  The whole world is, and of it all can name
+  (Without selfe-flatterie) no part so divine
+  As hee himselfe; and therefore will confine
+  Freely his whole powers in his proper part,                         70
+  Goes on most God-like. Hee that strives t'invert
+  The Universals course with his poore way,
+  Not onely dust-like shivers with the sway,
+  But crossing God in his great worke, all earth
+  Beares not so cursed and so damn'd a birth.                         75
+
+  _Ren._ Goe on; Ile take no care what comes of you;
+  Heaven will not see it ill, how ere it show.
+  But the pretext to see these battailes rang'd
+  Is much your honour.
+
+  _Cler._              As the world esteemes it.
+  But to decide that, you make me remember                            80
+  An accident of high and noble note,
+  And fits the subject of my late discourse
+  Of holding on our free and proper way.
+  I over-tooke, comming from Italie,
+  In Germanie a great and famous Earle                                85
+  Of England, the most goodly fashion'd man
+  I ever saw; from head to foote in forme
+  Rare and most absolute; hee had a face
+  Like one of the most ancient honour'd Romanes
+  From whence his noblest familie was deriv'd;                        90
+  He was beside of spirit passing great,
+  Valiant, and learn'd, and liberall as the sunne,
+  Spoke and writ sweetly, or of learned subjects,
+  Or of the discipline of publike weales;
+  And t'was the Earle of Oxford: and being offer'd                    95
+  At that time, by Duke Cassimere, the view
+  Of his right royall armie then in field,
+  Refus'd it, and no foote was mov'd to stirre
+  Out of his owne free fore-determin'd course.
+  I, wondring at it, askt for it his reason,                         100
+  It being an offer so much for his honour.
+  Hee, all acknowledging, said t'was not fit
+  To take those honours that one cannot quit.
+
+  _Ren._ Twas answer'd like the man you have describ'd.
+
+  _Cler._ And yet he cast it onely in the way,                       105
+  To stay and serve the world. Nor did it fit
+  His owne true estimate how much it waigh'd;
+  For hee despis'd it, and esteem'd it freer
+  To keepe his owne way straight, and swore that hee
+  Had rather make away his whole estate                              110
+  In things that crost the vulgar then he would
+  Be frozen up stiffe (like a Sir John Smith,
+  His countrey-man) in common Nobles fashions;
+  Affecting, as't the end of noblesse were,
+  Those servile observations.
+
+  _Ren._                      It was strange.                        115
+
+  _Cler._ O tis a vexing sight to see a man,
+  Out of his way, stalke proud as hee were in;
+  Out of his way, to be officious,
+  Observant, wary, serious, and grave,
+  Fearefull, and passionate, insulting, raging,                      120
+  Labour with iron flailes to thresh downe feathers
+  Flitting in ayre.
+
+  _Ren._            What one considers this,
+  Of all that are thus out? or once endevours,
+  Erring, to enter on mans right-hand path?
+
+  _Cler._ These are too grave for brave wits; give them toyes;       125
+  Labour bestow'd on these is harsh and thriftlesse.
+  If you would Consull be (sayes one) of Rome,
+  You must be watching, starting out of sleepes;
+  Every way whisking; gloryfying Plebeians;
+  Kissing Patricians hands, rot at their dores;                      130
+  Speake and doe basely; every day bestow
+  Gifts and observance upon one or other:
+  And what's th'event of all? Twelve rods before thee;
+  Three or foure times sit for the whole tribunall;
+  Exhibite Circean games; make publike feasts;                       135
+  And for these idle outward things (sayes he)
+  Would'st thou lay on such cost, toile, spend thy spirits?
+  And to be voide of perturbation,
+  For constancie, sleepe when thou would'st have sleepe,
+  Wake when thou would'st wake, feare nought, vexe for nought,       140
+  No paines wilt thou bestow? no cost? no thought?
+
+  _Ren._ What should I say? As good consort with you
+  As with an angell; I could heare you ever.
+
+  _Cler._ Well, in, my lord, and spend time with my sister,
+  And keepe her from the field with all endeavour.                   145
+  The souldiers love her so, and shee so madly
+  Would take my apprehension, if it chance,
+  That bloud would flow in rivers.
+
+  _Ren._                           Heaven forbid!
+  And all with honour your arrivall speede!                 _Exit._
+
+          _Enter Messenger with two Souldiers like Lackies._
+
+  _Messenger._ Here are two lackies, sir, have message to you.       150
+
+  _Cler._ What is your message? and from whom, my friends?
+
+  _1[st Soldier.]_ From the Lieutenant, Colonell, and the
+      Captaines,
+  Who sent us to informe you that the battailes
+  Stand ready rang'd, expecting but your presence
+  To be their honor'd signall when to joyne,                         155
+  And we are charg'd to runne by, and attend you.
+
+  _Cler._ I come. I pray you see my running horse
+  Brought to the backe-gate to mee.
+
+  _Mess._                           Instantly.  _Exit Mess[enger]._
+
+  _Cler._ Chance what can chance mee, well or ill is equall
+  In my acceptance, since I joy in neyther,                          160
+  But goe with sway of all the world together.
+  In all successes Fortune and the day
+  To mee alike are; I am fixt, be shee
+  Never so fickle; and will there repose,
+  Farre past the reach of any dye she throwes.                       165
+                                        _Ex[it] cum Pediss[equis]._
+
+          _Finis Actus tertii._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+         114  _as't_. Emended by ed.; Q, as.
+
+
+
+
+  ACTUS QUARTI SCAENA PRIMA.
+
+  [_A Parade-Ground near Cambrai._]
+
+
+          _Alarum within: Excursions over the Stage._
+
+          _The [Soldiers disguised as] Lackies running, Maillard
+          following them._
+
+  _Maillard._ Villaines, not hold him when ye had him downe!
+
+  _1[st Soldier.]_ Who can hold lightning? Sdeath a man as well
+  Might catch a canon bullet in his mouth,
+  And spit it in your hands, as take and hold him.
+
+  _Mail._ Pursue, enclose him! stand or fall on him,                   5
+  And yee may take him. Sdeath! they make him guards.       _Exit._
+
+          _Alarum still, and enter Chalon._
+
+  _Challon._ Stand, cowards, stand; strike, send your bullets at him.
+
+  _1[st Soldier.]_ Wee came to entertaine him, sir, for honour.
+
+  _2[d Soldier.]_ Did ye not say so?
+
+  _Chal._                            Slaves, hee is a traitor;
+  Command the horse troopes to over-runne the traitor.
+                                                          _Exeunt._   10
+
+          _Shouts within. Alarum still, and Chambers shot off.
+          Then enter Aumall._
+
+  _Aumale._ What spirit breathes thus in this more then man,
+  Turnes flesh to ayre possest, and in a storme
+  Teares men about the field like autumne leaves?
+  He turnd wilde lightning in the lackies hands,
+  Who, though their sodaine violent twitch unhorst him,               15
+  Yet when he bore himselfe, their saucie fingers
+  Flew as too hot off, as hee had beene fire.
+  The ambush then made in, through all whose force
+  Hee drave as if a fierce and fire-given canon
+  Had spit his iron vomit out amongst them.                           20
+  The battailes then in two halfe-moones enclos'd him,
+  In which he shew'd as if he were the light,
+  And they but earth, who, wondring what hee was,
+  Shruncke their steele hornes and gave him glorious passe.
+  And as a great shot from a towne besieg'd                           25
+  At foes before it flyes forth blacke and roring,
+  But they too farre, and that with waight opprest
+  (As if disdaining earth) doth onely grasse,
+  Strike earth, and up againe into the ayre,
+  Againe sinkes to it, and againe doth rise,                          30
+  And keepes such strength that when it softliest moves
+  It piece-meale shivers any let it proves--
+  So flew brave Clermont forth, till breath forsooke him,
+  Then fell to earth; and yet (sweet man) even then
+  His spirits convulsions made him bound againe                       35
+  Past all their reaches; till, all motion spent,
+  His fixt eyes cast a blaze of such disdaine,
+  All stood and star'd, and untouch'd let him lie,
+  As something sacred fallen out of the skie.       _A cry within._
+  O now some rude hand hath laid hold on him!                         40
+
+          _Enter Maillard, Chalon leading Clermont, Captaines and
+          Souldiers following._
+
+  See, prisoner led, with his bands honour'd more
+  Then all the freedome he enjoy'd before.
+
+  _Mail._ At length wee have you, sir.
+
+  _Clermont._                          You have much joy too;
+  I made you sport. Yet, but I pray you tell mee,
+  Are not you perjur'd?
+
+  _Mail._               No: I swore for the King.                     45
+
+  _Cler._ Yet perjurie, I hope, is perjurie.
+
+  _Mail._ But thus forswearing is not perjurie.
+  You are no politician: not a fault,
+  How foule soever, done for private ends,
+  Is fault in us sworne to the publike good:                          50
+  Wee never can be of the damned crew;
+  Wee may impolitique our selves (as 'twere)
+  Into the kingdomes body politique,
+  Whereof indeede we're members; you misse termes.
+
+  _Cler._ The things are yet the same.                                55
+
+  _Mail._ Tis nothing so; the propertie is alter'd:
+  Y'are no lawyer. Or say that othe and othe
+  Are still the same in number, yet their species
+  Differ extreamely, as, for flat example,
+  When politique widowes trye men for their turne,                    60
+  Before they wed them, they are harlots then,
+  But when they wed them, they are honest women:
+  So private men, when they forsweare, betray,
+  Are perjur'd treachers, but being publique once,
+  That is, sworne-married to the publique good--                      65
+
+  _Cler._ Are married women publique?
+
+  _Mail._                             Publique good;
+  For marriage makes them, being the publique good,
+  And could not be without them: so I say
+  Men publique, that is, being sworne-married
+  To the good publique, being one body made                           70
+  With the realmes body politique, are no more
+  Private, nor can be perjur'd, though forsworne,
+  More then a widow married, for the act
+  Of generation is for that an harlot,
+  Because for that shee was so, being unmarried:                      75
+  An argument _a paribus_.
+
+  _Chal._                       Tis a shrow'd one.
+
+  _Cler._ "Who hath no faith to men, to God hath none:"
+  Retaine you that, sir? who said so?
+
+  _Mail._                             Twas I.
+
+  _Cler._ Thy owne tongue damne thy infidelitie!
+  But, Captaines all, you know me nobly borne;                        80
+  Use yee t'assault such men as I with lackyes?
+
+  _Chal._ They are no lackyes, sir, but souldiers
+  Disguis'd in lackyes coates.
+
+  _1 Sold._                    Sir, wee have seene the enemie.
+
+  _Cler._ Avant! yee rascols, hence!
+
+  _Mail._ Now leave your coates.
+
+  _Cler._                        Let me not see them more.            85
+
+  _Aum._ I grieve that vertue lives so undistinguisht
+  From vice in any ill, and though the crowne
+  Of soveraigne law, shee should be yet her footstoole,
+  Subject to censure, all the shame and paine
+  Of all her rigor.
+
+  _Cler._           Yet false policie                                 90
+  Would cover all, being like offenders hid,
+  That (after notice taken where they hide)
+  The more they crouch and stirre, the more are spide.
+
+  _Aum._ I wonder how this chanc'd you.
+
+  _Cler._                               Some informer,
+  Bloud-hound to mischiefe, usher to the hang-man,                    95
+  Thirstie of honour for some huge state act,
+  Perceiving me great with the worthy Guise,
+  And he (I know not why) held dangerous,
+  Made me the desperate organe of his danger,
+  Onely with that poore colour: tis the common                       100
+  And more then whore-like tricke of treacherie
+  And vermine bred to rapine and to ruine,
+  For which this fault is still to be accus'd;
+  Since good acts faile, crafts and deceits are us'd.
+  If it be other, never pittie mee.                                  105
+
+  _Aum._ Sir, we are glad, beleeve it, and have hope
+  The King will so conceit it.
+
+  _Cler._                      At his pleasure.
+  In meane time, what's your will, Lord Lieutenant?
+
+  _Mail._ To leave your owne horse, and to mount the trumpets.
+
+  _Cler._ It shall be done. This heavily prevents                    110
+  My purpos'd recreation in these parts;
+  Which now I thinke on, let mee begge you, sir,
+  To lend me some one captaine of your troopes,
+  To beare the message of my haplesse service
+  And miserie to my most noble mistresse,                            115
+  Countesse of Cambray; to whose house this night
+  I promist my repaire, and know most truely,
+  With all the ceremonies of her favour,
+  She sure expects mee.
+
+  _Mail._               Thinke you now on that?
+
+  _Cler._ On that, sir? I, and that so worthily,                     120
+  That if the King, in spight of your great service,
+  Would send me instant promise of enlargement,
+  Condition I would set this message by,
+  I would not take it, but had rather die.
+
+  _Aum._ Your message shall be done, sir: I, my selfe,               125
+  Will be for you a messenger of ill.
+
+  _Cler._ I thanke you, sir, and doubt not yet to live
+  To quite your kindnesse.
+
+  _Aum._                   Meane space use your spirit
+  And knowledge for the chearfull patience
+  Of this so strange and sodaine consequence.                        130
+
+  _Cler._ Good sir, beleeve that no particular torture
+  Can force me from my glad obedience
+  To any thing the high and generall Cause,
+  To match with his whole fabricke, hath ordainde;
+  And know yee all (though farre from all your aymes,                135
+  Yet worth them all, and all mens endlesse studies)
+  That in this one thing, all the discipline
+  Of manners and of manhood is contain'd:--
+  A man to joyne himselfe with th'Universe
+  In his maine sway, and make (in all things fit)                    140
+  One with that all, and goe on round as it;
+  Not plucking from the whole his wretched part,
+  And into straites, or into nought revert,
+  Wishing the compleate Universe might be
+  Subject to such a ragge of it as hee;                              145
+  But to consider great Necessitie
+  All things, as well refract as voluntarie,
+  Reduceth to the prime celestiall cause;
+  Which he that yeelds to with a mans applause,
+  And cheeke by cheeke goes, crossing it no breath,                  150
+  But like Gods image followes to the death,
+  That man is truely wise, and every thing
+  (Each cause and every part distinguishing)
+  In nature with enough art understands,
+  And that full glory merits at all hands                            155
+  That doth the whole world at all parts adorne,
+  And appertaines to one celestiall borne.          _Exeunt omnes._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Exeunt._ Q, Exit.
+
+          54  _We're_. Q, We'are.
+
+
+  [SCAENA SECUNDA.
+
+  _A Room at the Court in Paris._]
+
+
+          _Enter Baligny, Renel._
+
+  _Baligny._ So foule a scandall never man sustain'd,
+  Which caus'd by th'King is rude and tyrannous:
+  Give me a place, and my Lieutenant make
+  The filler of it!
+
+  _Renel._          I should never looke
+  For better of him; never trust a man                                 5
+  For any justice, that is rapt with pleasure;
+  To order armes well, that makes smockes his ensignes,
+  And his whole governments sayles: you heard of late
+  Hee had the foure and twenty wayes of venerie
+  Done all before him.
+
+  _Bal._               Twas abhorr'd and beastly.                     10
+
+  _Ren._ Tis more then natures mightie hand can doe
+  To make one humane and a letcher too.
+  Looke how a wolfe doth like a dogge appeare,
+  So like a friend is an adulterer;
+  Voluptuaries, and these belly-gods,                                 15
+  No more true men are then so many toads.
+  A good man happy is a common good;
+  Vile men advanc'd live of the common bloud.
+
+  _Bal._ Give, and then take, like children!
+
+  _Ren._                                     Bounties are
+  As soone repented as they happen rare.                              20
+
+  _Bal._ What should Kings doe, and men of eminent places,
+  But, as they gather, sow gifts to the graces?
+  And where they have given, rather give againe
+  (Being given for vertue) then, like babes and fooles,
+  Take and repent gifts? why are wealth and power?                    25
+
+  _Ren._ Power and wealth move to tyranny, not bountie;
+  The merchant for his wealth is swolne in minde,
+  When yet the chiefe lord of it is the winde.
+
+  _Bal._ That may so chance to our state-merchants too;
+  Something performed, that hath not farre to goe.                    30
+
+  _Ren._ That's the maine point, my lord; insist on that.
+
+  _Bal._ But doth this fire rage further? hath it taken
+  The tender tynder of my wifes sere bloud?
+  Is shee so passionate?
+
+  _Ren._                 So wilde, so mad,
+  Shee cannot live and this unwreakt sustaine.                        35
+  The woes are bloudy that in women raigne.
+  The Sicile gulfe keepes feare in lesse degree;
+  There is no tyger not more tame then shee.
+
+  _Bal._ There is no looking home, then?
+
+  _Ren._                                 Home! Medea
+  With all her hearbs, charmes, thunders, lightning,                  40
+  Made not her presence and blacke hants more dreadfull.
+
+  _Bal._ Come, to the King; if he reforme not all,
+  Marke the event, none stand where that must fall.       _Exeunt._
+
+
+  [SCAENA TERTIA.
+
+  _A Room in the House of the Countess of Cambrai._]
+
+
+          _Enter Countesse, Riova, and an Usher._
+
+  _Usher._ Madame, a captaine come from Clermont D'Ambois
+  Desires accesse to you.
+
+  _Countess._             And not himselfe?
+
+  _Ush._ No, madame.
+
+  _Count._           That's not well. Attend him in.
+                                                    _Exit Ush[er]._
+  The last houre of his promise now runne out!
+  And hee breake, some brack's in the frame of nature                  5
+  That forceth his breach.
+
+          _Enter Usher and Aumal._
+
+  _Aumale._                Save your ladiship!
+
+  _Coun._ All welcome! Come you from my worthy servant?
+
+  _Aum._ I, madame, and conferre such newes from him--
+
+  _Coun._ Such newes! what newes?
+
+  _Aum._ Newes that I wish some other had the charge of.              10
+
+  _Coun._ O, what charge? what newes?
+
+  _Aum._ Your ladiship must use some patience,
+  Or else I cannot doe him that desire
+  He urg'd with such affection to your graces.
+
+  _Coun._ Doe it, for heavens love, doe it! if you serve              15
+  His kinde desires, I will have patience.
+  Is hee in health?
+
+  _Aum._            He is.
+
+  _Count._                 Why, that's the ground
+  Of all the good estate wee hold in earth;
+  All our ill built upon that is no more
+  Then wee may beare, and should; expresse it all.                    20
+
+  _Aum._ Madame, tis onely this; his libertie--
+
+  _Coun._ His libertie! Without that health is nothing.
+  Why live I, but to aske in doubt of that?
+  Is that bereft him?
+
+  _Aum._              You'll againe prevent me.
+
+  _Coun._ No more, I sweare; I must heare, and together               25
+  Come all my miserie! Ile hold, though I burst.
+
+  _Aum._ Then, madame, thus it fares; he was envited,
+  By way of honour to him, to take view
+  Of all the powers his brother Baligny
+  Hath in his government; which rang'd in battailes,                  30
+  Maillard, Lieutenant to the Governour,
+  Having receiv'd strickt letters from the King,
+  To traine him to the musters and betray him
+  To their supprise; which, with Chalon in chiefe,
+  And other captaines (all the field put hard                         35
+  By his incredible valour for his scape)
+  They haplesly and guiltlesly perform'd;
+  And to Bastile hee's now led prisoner.
+
+  _Count._ What change is here! how are my hopes prevented!
+  O my most faithfull servant, thou betraid!                          40
+  Will Kings make treason lawfull? Is societie
+  (To keepe which onely Kings were first ordain'd)
+  Lesse broke in breaking faith twixt friend and friend
+  Then twixt the King and subject? let them feare
+  Kings presidents in licence lacke no danger.                        45
+  Kings are compar'd to Gods, and should be like them,
+  Full in all right, in nought superfluous,
+  Nor nothing straining past right for their right.
+  Raigne justly, and raigne safely. Policie
+  Is but a guard corrupted, and a way                                 50
+  Venter'd in desarts, without guide or path.
+  Kings punish subjects errors with their owne.
+  Kings are like archers, and their subjects, shafts:
+  For as when archers let their arrowes flye,
+  They call to them, and bid them flye or fall,                       55
+  As if twere in the free power of the shaft
+  To flye or fall, when onely tis the strength,
+  Straight shooting, compasse given it by the archer,
+  That makes it hit or misse; and doing eyther,
+  Hee's to be prais'd or blam'd, and not the shaft:                   60
+  So Kings to subjects crying, "Doe, doe not this,"
+  Must to them by their owne examples strength,
+  The straightnesse of their acts, and equall compasse,
+  Give subjects power t'obey them in the like;
+  Not shoote them forth with faultie ayme and strength,               65
+  And lay the fault in them for flying amisse.
+
+  _Aum._ But for your servant, I dare sweare him guiltlesse.
+
+  _Count._ Hee would not for his kingdome traitor be;
+  His lawes are not so true to him, as he.
+  O knew I how to free him, by way forc'd                             70
+  Through all their armie, I would flye, and doe it:
+  And had I of my courage and resolve
+  But tenne such more, they should not all retaine him.
+  But I will never die, before I give
+  Maillard an hundred slashes with a sword,                           75
+  Chalon an hundred breaches with a pistoll.
+  They could not all have taken Clermont D'Ambois
+  Without their treacherie; he had bought his bands out
+  With their slave blouds: but he was credulous;
+  Hee would beleeve, since he would be beleev'd;                      80
+  Your noblest natures are most credulous.
+  Who gives no trust, all trust is apt to breake;
+  Hate like hell mouth who thinke not what they speake.
+
+  _Aum._ Well, madame, I must tender my attendance
+  On him againe. Will't please you to returne                         85
+  No service to him by me?
+
+  _Count._                 Fetch me straight
+  My little cabinet.                              _Exit Ancil[la]._
+                     Tis little, tell him,
+  And much too little for his matchlesse love:
+  But as in him the worths of many men
+  Are close contracted, (_Intr[at] Ancil[la.]_) so in this are
+      jewels                                                          90
+  Worth many cabinets. Here, with this (good sir)
+  Commend my kindest service to my servant,
+  Thanke him, with all my comforts, and, in them,
+  With all my life for them; all sent from him
+  In his remembrance of mee and true love.                            95
+  And looke you tell him, tell him how I lye
+                                  _She kneeles downe at his feete._
+  Prostrate at feet of his accurst misfortune,
+  Pouring my teares out, which shall ever fall,
+  Till I have pour'd for him out eyes and all.
+
+  _Aum._ O madame, this will kill him; comfort you                   100
+  With full assurance of his quicke acquitall;
+  Be not so passionate; rise, cease your teares.
+
+  _Coun._ Then must my life cease. Teares are all the vent
+  My life hath to scape death. Teares please me better
+  Then all lifes comforts, being the naturall seede                  105
+  Of heartie sorrow. As a tree fruit beares,
+  So doth an undissembled sorrow, teares.
+                    _Hee raises her, and leades her out. Exe[unt]._
+
+  _Usher._ This might have beene before, and sav'd much charge.
+                                                            _Exit._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+           5  _brack's_. Emended by all editors; Q, brack.
+
+          20  _and should; expresse it all_. So punctuated by all
+              editors; Q, and should expresse it all.
+
+          31  _Maillard_. Q, Mailiard.
+
+
+  [SCAENA QUARTA.
+
+  _A Room at the Court in Paris._]
+
+
+          _Enter Henry, Guise, Baligny, Esp[ernone], Soisson.
+          Pericot with pen, incke, and paper._
+
+  _Guise._ Now, sir, I hope you're much abus'd eyes see
+  In my word for my Clermont, what a villaine
+  Hee was that whisper'd in your jealous eare
+  His owne blacke treason in suggesting Clermonts,
+  Colour'd with nothing but being great with mee.                      5
+  Signe then this writ for his deliverie;
+  Your hand was never urg'd with worthier boldnesse:
+  Come, pray, sir, signe it. Why should Kings be praid
+  To acts of justice? tis a reverence
+  Makes them despis'd, and showes they sticke and tyre                10
+  In what their free powers should be hot as fire.
+
+  _Henry._ Well, take your will, sir;--Ile have mine ere long.--
+                                                         _Aversus._
+  But wherein is this Clermont such a rare one?
+
+  _Gui._ In his most gentle and unwearied minde,
+  Rightly to vertue fram'd in very nature;                            15
+  In his most firme inexorable spirit
+  To be remov'd from any thing hee chuseth
+  For worthinesse; or beare the lest perswasion
+  To what is base, or fitteth not his object;
+  In his contempt of riches, and of greatnesse                        20
+  In estimation of th'idolatrous vulgar;
+  His scorne of all things servile and ignoble,
+  Though they could gaine him never such advancement;
+  His liberall kinde of speaking what is truth,
+  In spight of temporising; the great rising                          25
+  And learning of his soule so much the more
+  Against ill fortune, as shee set her selfe
+  Sharpe against him or would present most hard,
+  To shunne the malice of her deadliest charge;
+  His detestation of his speciall friends,                            30
+  When he perceiv'd their tyrannous will to doe,
+  Or their abjection basely to sustaine
+  Any injustice that they could revenge;
+  The flexibilitie of his most anger,
+  Even in the maine careere and fury of it,                           35
+  When any object of desertfull pittie
+  Offers it selfe to him; his sweet disposure,
+  As much abhorring to behold as doe
+  Any unnaturall and bloudy action;
+  His just contempt of jesters, parasites,                            40
+  Servile observers, and polluted tongues--
+  In short, this Senecall man is found in him,
+  Hee may with heavens immortall powers compare,
+  To whom the day and fortune equall are;
+  Come faire or foule, whatever chance can fall,                      45
+  Fixt in himselfe, hee still is one to all.
+
+  _Hen._ Showes he to others thus?
+
+  _Omnes._                         To all that know him.
+
+  _Hen._ And apprehend I this man for a traitor?
+
+  _Gui._ These are your Machevilian villaines,
+  Your bastard Teucers, that, their mischiefes done,                  50
+  Runne to your shield for shelter; Cacusses
+  That cut their too large murtherous theveries
+  To their dens length still. Woe be to that state
+  Where treacherie guards, and ruine makes men great!
+
+  _Hen._ Goe, take my letters for him, and release him.               55
+
+  _Om._ Thankes to your Highnesse; ever live your Highnesse!
+                                                          _Exeunt._
+
+  _Baligny._ Better a man were buried quicke then live
+  A propertie for state and spoile to thrive.               _Exit._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _Aversus._ In left margin in Q.
+
+          51  _Cacusses_. Ed.; Q, Caucusses.
+
+
+  [SCAENA QUINTA.
+
+  _A Country Road, between Cambrai and Paris._]
+
+
+          _Enter Clermont, Mail[lard], Chal[on] with Souldiers._
+
+  _Maillard._ Wee joy you take a chance so ill, so well.
+
+  _Clermont._ Who ever saw me differ in acceptance
+  Of eyther fortune?
+
+  _Chalon._          What, love bad like good!
+  How should one learne that?
+
+  _Cler._                     To love nothing outward,
+  Or not within our owne powers to command;                            5
+  And so being sure of every thing we love,
+  Who cares to lose the rest? if any man
+  Would neyther live nor dye in his free choise,
+  But as hee sees necessitie will have it
+  (Which if hee would resist, he strives in vaine)                    10
+  What can come neere him that hee doth not well?
+  And if in worst events his will be done,
+  How can the best be better? all is one.
+
+  _Mail._ Me thinkes tis prettie.
+
+  _Cler._                         Put no difference
+  If you have this, or not this; but as children                      15
+  Playing at coites ever regard their game,
+  And care not for their coites, so let a man
+  The things themselves that touch him not esteeme,
+  But his free power in well disposing them.
+
+  _Chal._ Prettie, from toyes!
+
+  _Cler._                      Me thinkes this double disticke        20
+  Seemes prettily too to stay superfluous longings:
+  "Not to have want, what riches doth exceede?
+  Not to be subject, what superiour thing?
+  He that to nought aspires, doth nothing neede;
+  Who breakes no law is subject to no King."                          25
+
+  _Mail._ This goes to mine eare well, I promise you.
+
+  _Chal._ O, but tis passing hard to stay one thus.
+
+  _Cler._ Tis so; rancke custome raps men so beyond it.
+  And as tis hard so well mens dores to barre
+  To keepe the cat out and th'adulterer:                              30
+  So tis as hard to curbe affections so
+  Wee let in nought to make them over-flow.
+  And as of Homers verses, many critickes
+  On those stand of which times old moth hath eaten
+  The first or last feete, and the perfect parts                      35
+  Of his unmatched poeme sinke beneath,
+  With upright gasping and sloath dull as death:
+  So the unprofitable things of life,
+  And those we cannot compasse, we affect;
+  All that doth profit and wee have, neglect,                         40
+  Like covetous and basely getting men
+  That, gathering much, use never what they keepe;
+  But for the least they loose, extreamely weepe.
+
+  _Mail._ This prettie talking, and our horses walking
+  Downe this steepe hill, spends time with equall profit.             45
+
+  _Cler._ Tis well bestow'd on ye; meate and men sicke
+  Agree like this and you: and yet even this
+  Is th'end of all skill, power, wealth, all that is.
+
+  _Chal._ I long to heare, sir, how your mistresse takes this.
+
+          _Enter Aumal with a cabinet._
+
+  _Mail._ Wee soone shall know it; see Aumall return'd.               50
+
+  _Aumale._ Ease to your bands, sir!
+
+  _Cler._                            Welcome, worthy friend!
+
+  _Chal._ How tooke his noblest mistresse your sad message?
+
+  _Aum._ As great rich men take sodaine povertie.
+  I never witness'd a more noble love,
+  Nor a more ruthfull sorrow: I well wisht                            55
+  Some other had beene master of my message.
+
+  _Mail._ Y'are happy, sir, in all things, but this one
+  Of your unhappy apprehension.
+
+  _Cler._ This is to mee, compar'd with her much mone,
+  As one teare is to her whole passion.                               60
+
+  _Aum._ Sir, shee commends her kindest service to you,
+  And this rich cabinet.
+
+  _Chal._                O happy man!
+  This may enough hold to redeeme your bands.
+
+  _Cler._ These clouds, I doubt not, will be soone blowne over.
+
+          _Enter Baligny, with his discharge: Renel, and others._
+
+  _Aum._ Your hope is just and happy; see, sir, both                  65
+  In both the looks of these.
+
+  _Baligny._                  Here's a discharge
+  For this your prisoner, my good Lord Lieutenant.
+
+  _Mail._ Alas, sir, I usurpe that stile, enforc't,
+  And hope you know it was not my aspiring.
+
+  _Bal._ Well, sir, my wrong aspir'd past all mens hopes.             70
+
+  _Mail._ I sorrow for it, sir.
+
+  _Renel._                      You see, sir, there
+  Your prisoners discharge autenticall.
+
+  _Mail._ It is, sir, and I yeeld it him with gladnesse.
+
+  _Bal._ Brother, I brought you downe to much good purpose.
+
+  _Cler._ Repeate not that, sir; the amends makes all.                75
+
+  _Ren._ I joy in it, my best and worthiest friend;
+  O, y'have a princely fautor of the Guise.
+
+  _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 SCAENA 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.
+
+
+  [SCAENA 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._
+
+
+  [SCAENA 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_.
+
+
+  [SCAENA 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._
+
+
+  [SCAENA 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.
+
+  _Mont._ Out on thee, damme of divels! I will quite
+  Disgrace thy bravos conquest, die, not fight.       _Lyes downe._
+
+  _Tam._ Out on my fortune, to wed such an abject!                    45
+  Now is the peoples voyce the voyce of God;
+  Hee that to wound a woman vants so much,
+  As hee did mee, a man dares never touch.
+
+  _Cler._ Revenge your wounds now, madame; I resigne him
+  Up to your full will, since hee will not fight.                     50
+  First you shall torture him (as hee did you,
+  And justice wils) and then pay I my vow.
+  Here, take this ponyard.
+
+  _Mont._                  Sinke earth, open heaven,
+  And let fall vengeance!
+
+  _Tam._                  Come sir, good sir, hold him.
+
+  _Mont._ O shame of women, whither art thou fled!                    55
+
+  _Cler._ Why (good my lord) is it a greater shame
+  For her then you? come, I will be the bands
+  You us'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.                               60
+  I did but thus farre dally; now observe.
+  O all you aking fore-heads that have rob'd
+  Your hands of weapons and your hearts of valour,
+  Joyne in mee all your rages and rebutters,
+  And into dust ram this same race of Furies;                         65
+  In this one relicke of the Ambois gall,
+  In his one purple soule shed, drowne it all.             _Fight._
+
+  _Mont._ Now give me breath a while.
+
+  _Cler._                             Receive it freely.
+
+  _Mont._ What thinke y'a this now?
+
+  _Cler._                            It is very noble,
+  Had it beene free, at least, and of your selfe;                     70
+  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                  75
+  Change lives 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 whose helpe
+  My hands may challenge) that doth all men conquer,                  80
+  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 urg'd, makes y'another man
+  Then yet you ever were.
+
+  _Mont._                 Well, I must on.
+
+  _Cler._ Your lordship must by all meanes.
+
+  _Mont._                                   Then at all.              85
+
+                                  _Fights, and D'Ambois hurts him._
+
+          _[Enter Renel, the Countess, and] Charlotte above._
+
+  _Charlotte._ Death of my father, what a shame is this!
+  Sticke in his hands thus!                       _She gets downe._
+
+  _Renel [trying to stop her]._ Gentle sir, forbeare!
+
+  _Countess._ Is he not slaine yet?
+
+  _Ren._                            No, madame, but hurt
+  In divers parts of him.
+
+  _Mont._                 Y'have given it me,
+  And yet I feele life for another vennie.                            90
+
+          _Enter Charlotte [below]._
+
+  _Cler._ What would you, sir?
+
+  _Char._                      I would performe this combat.
+
+  _Cler._ Against which of us?
+
+  _Char._                      I care not much if twere
+  Against thy selfe; thy sister would have sham'd
+  To have thy brothers wreake with any man
+  In single combat sticke so in her fingers.                          95
+
+  _Cler._ My sister! know you her?
+
+  _Tam._                           I, sir, shee sent him
+  With this kinde letter, to performe the wreake
+  Of my deare servant.
+
+  _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                 100
+  Weary and wounded, I would long ere this
+  Have prov'd what I presume on.
+
+  _Cler._                        Y'have a minde
+  Like to my sister, but have patience now;
+  If next charge speede not, Ile resigne to you.
+
+  _Mont._ Pray thee, let him decide it.
+
+  _Cler._                               No, my lord,                 105
+  I am the man in fate; and since so bravely
+  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 joy and all good on thy victorie!                              110
+
+                                          _Fights, and fals downe._
+
+  _Mont._ Farewell! I hartily forgive thee; wife,
+  And thee; let penitence spend thy rest of life.
+                   _Hee gives his hand to Cler[mont] and his wife._
+
+  _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.                 115
+  Rest, worthy soule; and with it the deare spirit
+  Of my lov'd brother rest in endlesse peace!
+  Soft lie thy bones; Heaven be your soules abode;
+  And to your ashes be the earth no lode!
+
+          _Musicke, and the Ghost of Bussy enters, leading the
+          Ghost[s] 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,      120
+  And his great brother Cardinall, both yet living!
+  And that the rest with them with joy thus celebrate
+  This our revenge! This certainely presages
+  Some instant death both to the Guise and Cardinall.
+  That the Shattilions ghost to should thus joyne                    125
+  In celebration of this just revenge
+  With Guise that bore a chiefe stroke in his death,
+  It seemes that now he doth approve the act;
+  And these true shadowes of the Guise and Cardinall,
+  Fore-running thus their bodies, may approve                        130
+  That all things to be done, as here wee live,
+  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 sensive spirits
+  A little time abide about the graves                               135
+  Of their deceased bodies, and can take,
+  In colde condenc't ayre, the same formes they had
+  When they were shut up in this bodies shade.
+
+          _Enter Aumall._
+
+  _Aumale._ O sir, the Guise is slaine!
+
+  _Cler._                               Avert it heaven!
+
+  _Aum._ Sent for to Councill by the King, an ambush                 140
+  (Lodg'd for the purpose) rusht on him, and tooke
+  His princely life; who sent (in dying then)
+  His love to you, as to the best of men.
+
+  _Cler._ The worst and most accursed of things creeping
+  On earths sad bosome. Let me pray yee all                          145
+  A little to forbeare, and let me use
+  Freely mine owne minde in lamenting him.
+  Ile call yee straight againe.
+
+  _Aum._                        We will forbeare,
+  And leave you free, sir.                                _Exeunt._
+
+  _Cler._                  Shall I live, and hee
+  Dead, that alone gave meanes of life to me?                        150
+  Theres no disputing with the acts of Kings;
+  Revenge is impious on their sacred persons.
+  And could I play the worldling (no man loving
+  Longer then gaine is reapt or grace from him)
+  I should survive; and shall be wondred at                          155
+  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 sever but the other
+  Suffers a needfull separation.                                     160
+
+  _Ren._ I feare your servant, madame: let's descend.
+                                    _Descend Ren[el] & Coun[tess]._
+
+  _Cler._ Since I could skill of man, I never liv'd
+  To please men worldly, and shall I in death
+  Respect their pleasures, making such a jarre
+  Betwixt my death and life, when death should make                  165
+  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 coverts hindring me from thee?
+  The garment or the cover of the minde                              170
+  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 unclothe,
+  And come at th'other. Now, then, as a ship                         175
+  Touching at strange and farre removed shores,
+  Her men a shore goe, for their severall ends,
+  Fresh water, victuals, precious stones, and pearle,
+  All yet intentive, when the master cals,
+  The ship to put off ready, to leave all                            180
+  Their greediest labours, lest they there be left
+  To theeves or beasts, or be the countries slaves:
+  So, now my master cals, my ship, my venture
+  All in one bottome put, all quite put off,
+  Gone under saile, and I left negligent                             185
+  To all the horrors of the vicious time,
+  The farre remov'd shores to all vertuous aimes,
+  None favouring goodnesse, none but he respecting
+  Pietie or man-hood--shall I here survive,
+  Not cast me after him into the sea,                                190
+  Rather then here live, readie every houre
+  To feede theeves, beasts, and be the slave 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 leave him here thus! hee hath slaine himselfe.                  195
+
+  _Tam._ Misery on misery! O me wretched dame,
+  Of all that breath! all heaven turne all his eyes
+  In harty envie thus on one poore dame.
+
+  _Char._ Well done, my brother! I did love thee ever,
+  But now adore thee: losse of such a friend                         200
+  None should survive, of such a brother [none.]
+  With my false husband live, 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 servant's slaine.                 205
+
+  _Coun._ It must be so; he liv'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.
+
+  _Char._ It is. In cloisters then let's all survive.                210
+  Madame, since wrath nor griefe can helpe these fortunes,
+  Let us 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 heavens course comfort seeke, in earth is none.      _Exeunt._  215
+
+          _Enter Henry, Espernone, Soissone, and others._
+
+  _Henry._ Wee came indeede too late, which much I rue,
+  And would have kept this Clermont as my crowne.
+  Take in the dead, and make this fatall roome
+  (The house shut up) the famous D'Ambois tombe.           _Exeunt._
+
+          _FINIS._
+
+
+LINENOTES:
+
+              _opens_. Emended by ed.; Q, opes.
+
+          25  _Nobleman_. Two words in Q.
+
+          29  _Cler._ _Here, then._ Placed by Q at the end of l.
+              29.
+
+          44  _bravos_. Emended by ed.; Q, braves.
+
+       73-74. Three lines in Q, broken at _conquest_, _it_, and
+              _fortune_.
+
+       88-89. Three lines in Q, broken at _yet_, _him_, and _me_.
+
+         125  _Shattilions_. Ed.; Q, Shattilians.
+
+         144  _accursed_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, accurst.
+
+         201  _none_. Added by ed.
+
+         210  _Char_. Shepherd, Phelps; Q, Cler.
+
+
+
+
+Notes to The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois
+
+_For the meaning of single words see the Glossary._
+
+
+=168. To the right vertuous . . . Sr. Thomas Howard, &c.= Thomas Howard,
+born before 1594, was the second son of the first Earl of Suffolk. He
+was created a Knight of the Bath in January, 1605, and in May, 1614, was
+appointed Master of the Horse to Charles, Prince of Wales. In 1622 he
+became Viscount Andover, and in 1626 Earl of Berkshire. He held a number
+of posts till the outbreak of the Civil War, and after the Restoration
+was appointed Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Charles II, and Privy
+Councillor. He died on July 16, 1669. His daughter Elizabeth married
+Dryden, and his sixth son, Sir Robert Howard, became distinguished as a
+dramatic writer and critic. Chapman addresses to this patron one of the
+Sonnets appended to his translation of the _Iliad_, in which he compares
+him to Antilochus, and calls him "valiant, and mild, and most
+ingenious."
+
+=169=, 35-36. =the most divine philosopher.= The reference is doubtless
+to Epictetus, the influence of whose _Discourses_ appears throughout
+_The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_.
+
+=174=, 70. =That thinke . . . that=, that do not consider heavenly bliss
+complete folly, when compared with money.
+
+=175=, 71-2. =Well . . . arise.= A hypocritical appeal by Baligny to the
+absent Duke of Guise, of whose ambitious schemes he suspects Renel to be
+a supporter.
+
+=175=, 79-82. =My brother . . . brother.= Cf. _Introduction_, p. xxxvii.
+
+=176=, 97. =stands now on price with him:= is now the subject of
+bargaining between him and me.
+
+=178. Monsieur taking leave of the King.= Henry apparently leaves the
+stage, after this formal ceremony of farewell, without speaking, for he
+takes no part in the dialogue, and he is not mentioned among those who
+_exeunt_ at l. 290.
+
+=178=, 145. =See . . . Brabant.= The expedition of the Duke of Anjou
+here alluded to is that of 1582, when he was crowned Duke of Brabant at
+Antwerp.
+
+=181=, 202-4. =durst . . . lady.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, I, ii, 96-179.
+
+=181=, 204-8. =emptied . . . were.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, III, ii,
+478-515.
+
+=182=, 234-5. =When . . . commanders.= Monsieur's description in these
+and the following lines of Clermont's and Bussy's first appearance at
+Court is purely fictitious.
+
+=183=, 254. =a keele of sea-coale.= A keel was a flat-bottomed boat,
+used in the northeast of England, for loading and carrying coal.
+Afterwards the word was also used of the amount of coal a keel would
+carry, i. e. 8 chaldrons, or 21 tons 4 cwt. Sea-coal was the original
+term for the fossil coal borne from Newcastle to London by sea, to
+distinguish it from _char-coal_. Cf. Shakespeare, _Merry Wives of
+Windsor_, I, iv, 9, "at the latter end of a sea-coal fire."
+
+=184=, 267. =a poore knights living.= The knights of Windsor, a small
+body who had apartments in the Castle, and pensions, were often known as
+"poor knights."
+
+=185=, 278. =But killing of the King!= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, III, ii,
+411.
+
+=188=, 332-3. =Why, is not . . . worthily.= If this is a complimentary
+allusion to Jaques' speech in _As You Like It_, II, vii, 140-166, it is
+remarkable as coming from the writer whom Shakespeare at an earlier date
+had probably attacked in his _Sonnets_.
+
+=188=, 335-42. =what the good Greeke moralist sayes . . . of both.= This
+passage is based upon the _Discourses_ of Epictetus, bk. IV, vii, 13,
+which, however, Chapman completely misinterprets. Epictetus is
+demonstrating that a reasonable being should be able to bear any lot
+contentedly. "+theleis penian phere kai gnosei ti estin penia tychousa
+kalou hypokritou. theleis archas? phere, kai ponous.+"
+
++hypokrites+ is used here metaphorically, of one who acts a part in
+life, not, as Chapman takes it, of an actor in the professional
+sense.
+
+=188-189=, 354-5. =The splenative philosopher . . . all.= Democritus.
+
+=189=, 356-74. =All objects . . . they were.= These lines are suggested
+by Juvenal's _Satire_, X, ll. 33-55, but they diverge too far from the
+original to be merely a paraphrase, as they are termed by the editor of
+the 1873 reprint.
+
+=191=, 17-18. =That . . . fire.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, V, iv, 148-53.
+
+=194=, 75. =These . . . armes.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, V, i, 128-154.
+
+=200-201=, 40-3. =Since they . . . wrong'd:= since these decrees ensure
+the performance of that guardianship, so that earth and heaven are kept
+true to their original order and purpose, in no case must the wrong
+suffered by an individual man, as he thinks, be considered really a
+wrong done to him.
+
+=203=, 105. =Euphorbus=, son of Panthous, a Trojan hero, who first
+wounded Patroclus, but was afterwards slain by Menelaus. Pythagoras, as
+part of his doctrine of the transmigration of souls, is said to have
+claimed to have been formerly Euphorbus.
+
+=204=, 113-22. =What said . . . power.= The reference is to Sophocles'
+_Antigone_, 446-457, where the Princess justifies herself for burying
+her brother's body in defiance of Creon's edict.
+
+=205=, 135-6. =For . . . authoritie.= The lines here paraphrased, to
+which Chapman gives a marginal reference, are from the _Antigone_,
+175-7.
+
+     +Amechanon de pantos andros ekmathein
+     psychen te kai phronema kai gnomen, prin ain
+     archais te kai nomoisin entribes phainei.+
+
+=205=, 141. =virtuosi.= The word is here used not in the sense of
+_connoisseurs_, but of _devotees of virtue_. The editor has not been
+able to trace any other instance of this.
+
+=206=, 157-60. =that lyons . . . prey.= Adapted and expanded from the
+_Discourses_ of Epictetus, bk. IV, i, 25. The original of the words
+quoted marginally by Chapman in a Latin version is, +ouchi d' hosoi
+malakoteron diexagei, tosoutoi doulikoteron?+
+
+=207=, 181. =Simil[iter].= By this marginal reference Chapman seems to
+indicate that ll. 176-181 are drawn from the same source--the
+_Discourses_ of Epictetus--as ll. 157-160, to which the previous
+marginal note refers. But no such passage occurs in the _Discourses_.
+
+=209-210=, 205-34 =The Massacre . . . never massacerd.= On this strange
+_apologia_ for the Guise's share in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, see
+_Introduction_, pp. xxxix-xl.
+
+=209-210=, 211-32. =Who was in fault . . . lost.= Freely adapted and
+transposed from the _Discourses_ of Epictetus, I, xxviii, 11-20.
+
+=210-211=, 246-9. =your brave . . . deere.= Cf. Appendix B, where De
+Serres mentions the Count of Auvergne's "Scottish horse (which Vitry had
+given him) the which would have outrunne all the horses of France."
+
+=213=, 5-6. =th'insulting Pillars Of Bacchus and Alcides.= These
+"Pillars" are mentioned together by Strabo (bk. III, vi), who relates
+that during Alexander's expedition to India the Macedonians did not see
+them, but identified those places with them, where they found records of
+the god or the hero.
+
+=216=, 69-70. =What thinke . . . lackies coates.= Cf. Appendix B, where
+Nerestan has _three_ "lackquaies," who are in reality "soldiars so
+attyred" for the purpose of arresting the Count of Auvergne.
+
+=217=, 82-6. =Who knowes . . . made:= who is unaware that crafty policy
+pads out the giant that does his will, so that his wisdom may seem
+commensurate with his bulk, though it is merely for a trifling encounter
+with what, when touched, proves a shadow, though policy makes it out to
+be a monster.
+
+=219=, 12. =The Locrian princes.= The inhabitants of Locri, a settlement
+near the promontory of Zephyrium, were celebrated for the excellence of
+their code of laws, drawn up by Zaleucus.
+
+=220=, 41-46. =Demetrius Phalerius=, born about B. C. 345, was a
+follower of Phocion, and on the death of the latter in B. C. 317, became
+head of the Athenian administration. The citizens, in gratitude for his
+services, erected 360 statues to him, but afterwards turned against him.
+In B. C. 307 he was driven from Athens, sentence of death was passed on
+him, and the statues were demolished.
+
+=220=, 47. =Demades=, a contemporary of Demosthenes, who, by his genius
+for extempore oratory, raised himself to a predominant position in
+Athens as a champion of the Macedonian influence, but afterwards
+incurred the penalty of +atimia+.
+
+=228-230=, 209-34. =I will search you . . . search no more.= This
+episode is suggested by the following passage concerning the Count of
+Auvergne in Appendix B. "Hee was ready to call the two brothers of Murat
+into his cabinet, and to cause them to be searcht, for that he was well
+advertised that they alwayes carryed the Kings letters and his
+commandments. But a great resolution, thinking that there is no more
+harme in fearing, then in the thing that causeth feare, feares extremely
+to make shewe that hee hath any feare."
+
+=233=, 24. =Two . . . Hercules.= A proverbial expression. Cf. V, iv,
+34-5.
+
+=234=, 14-25. =When Homer . . . despis'd.= The editor of the 1873
+edition of Chapman's Plays points out that "these twelve lines headed
+_Of great men_ appear, with a few unimportant verbal differences, among
+the Epigrams printed at the end of Chapman's Petrarch in 1612."
+
+=234=, 20. =for disposing these:= for regulating these gifts of fame,
+strength, noble birth, and beauty. _These_ is used loosely to qualify
+the nouns implied by the adjectives, _Strong'st_, _noblest_, _fairest_,
+in l. 19.
+
+=236=, 56-7. =You can . . . minde.= If the text is correct, the lines
+mean: you can never find means to give attention to externals without
+neglecting the improvement of your mind. Mr. Brereton has suggested to
+the editor that the true reading may be, _Things out worth care_, in
+which case "out" = "outward."
+
+=236=, 58-75. =God . . . birth.= A free paraphrase of the _Discourses_
+of Epictetus, bk. IV, vii, 6-11.
+
+=236=, 78-9. =But . . . honour=, but the reason alleged, to see these
+battalions in review order, is a great compliment to you.
+
+=237=, 84-95. =I over-tooke . . . the Earle of Oxford.= The subject of
+this remarkable encomium was Edward de Vere (1550-1604), seventeenth
+Earl of Oxford. He was educated at Cambridge, and from an early age
+became a prominent figure at the Court of Elizabeth, who, it was said in
+1573, "delighteth more in his personage, and his dancing and
+valiantness, than any other." In 1575 he paid a visit to Italy, and it
+is apparently to an episode on his return journey in the spring of 1576
+that reference is made here, and in the following lines. The portrait
+here drawn of him is too flattering, as he was violent in temper and
+extravagant, but the Earl's literary gifts merited the praise of
+Chapman. Puttenham and Meres speak highly of him as a writer of comedy,
+and Webbe pays a tribute to his excellence in "the rare devises of
+poetry." Over twenty of his lyrics survive, chiefly in anthologies.
+
+=237=, 95-103. =being offer'd . . . quit.= The _Duke Cassimere_ here
+spoken of was John Casimir, Count Palatine, who in the autumn of 1575
+entered into alliance with the Huguenots and invaded France, but, after
+suffering a check at the hands of the Duke of Guise, made a truce and
+retired. The incident here spoken of apparently took place in the spring
+of the next year (cf. the previous note). Why, however, does Chapman
+introduce it here, and how did he know of it? Can he, immediately after
+leaving Oxford, which he entered, according to Wood, "in 1574 or
+thereabouts," have gone in Oxford's train to the Continent?
+
+=238=, 112. =a Sir John Smith.= Though alluded to in so contemptuous a
+way, this Sir John Smith appears to be the noted soldier of fortune,
+diplomatist, and military writer, who lived from about 1534 to 1607.
+After serving for many years in continental armies, in 1574 he became an
+agent of the English government, and took part in various diplomatic
+missions. In 1590 he published "Certain Discourses concerning the formes
+and effects of divers sorts of Weapons" and dedicated the work to the
+English nobility, whom he calls in one part of his "proeme" the "verie
+eyes, eares and language of the king, and the bodie of the watch, and
+redresse of the Commonwealth." Hence perhaps the allusion in l. 113 to
+"common Nobles fashions."
+
+=238-9=, 127-41. =If you would Consull be . . . no thought?= A
+translation of the _Discourses_ of Epictetus, bk. IV, x, 20-22.
+
+=238-9=, 129-30. =gloryfying Plebeians, Kissing Patricians hands.=
+Epictetus has simply, +tas cheiras kataphilesai+.
+
+=239=, 134. =sit for the whole tribunall.= A mistranslation of +epi
+bema kathisai+, i. e. "sit on the tribunal."
+
+=239=, 138-9. =And to be voide . . . constancie.= An obscure rendering
+of +hyper apatheias oun, hyper ataraxias+. _For constancie_ = for the
+sake of tranquillity of mind.
+
+=240=, 152. =Colonell.= Clermont seems to be addressed by this title
+because of the statement in Appendix B that "D'Eurre intreated the count
+of Auvergne to see [the muster] to the ende . . . that all his
+companions should be wonderfully honored with the presence of their
+coronell."
+
+=242-3=, 11-39. =What spirit . . . of the skie.= This account of
+Clermont's desperate struggle to avoid capture is an invention of
+Chapman. P. Matthieu says of the Count of Auvergne: "It was feared that
+he would not have suffered himselfe to bee taken so easily nor so
+quietly." Cf. Appendix B.
+
+=245=, 77. ="Who . . . none."= Cf. III, ii, 242.
+
+=245=, 80-5. =But . . . more.= Cf. Appendix B. "Hee was mooved to see
+himselfe so intreated by laquais, intreating D'Eurre . . . that hee
+might not see those rascals any more."
+
+=246=, 99. =organe of his danger:= instrument of his dangerous designs.
+
+=246=, 109. =To leave . . . trumpets.= Cf. Appendix B. "'Well,' said
+hee, 'I yeeld, what will you have mee to doe?' 'That you mount upon the
+trompets horse,' sayd D'Eurre."
+
+=247=, 112-24. =let mee begge . . . rather die.= Cf. Appendix B. "He
+intreated D'Eurre to lend him one of his troupe to carry some message of
+his remembrance, and of his miserie, to a ladie that attended him. . . .
+Shee loved him well, and was well beloved: for the Count of Auvergne
+hath been heard say, that if the King did set him at libertie and send
+him back to his house, uppon condition that he should not see this
+ladie, hee would rather desire to die."
+
+=250=, 30. =Something . . . goe.= An obscure line. It seems to mean
+that, as the wealth of merchants may be scattered by storms, so the
+performances of "state-merchants" or rulers may be cut short before
+obtaining their end.
+
+=254=, 44-5. =let . . . danger:= let them be afraid that the precedents
+set by Kings in violating obligations may prove a dangerous example.
+
+=255=, 70-76. =O knew I . . . a pistoll.= Cf. Appendix B. "If I knew . .
+. that I might save him, in forcing through your troupe, I would
+willingly doe it, and if I had but tenne men of my courage and
+resolution, you should not carrie him where you thinke. But I will never
+die till I have given D'Eurre a hundred shott with a pistoll, and to
+Murat a hundred blowes with a sword."
+
+=256=, 87. =Exit Ancil[la].= i. e. Riova, the Countess's waiting-maid.
+
+=257=, 108. =This . . . charge.= The thrifty Usher is apparently
+deploring that the Countess, before retiring, had sent so rich a gift of
+jewels to Clermont.
+
+=259=, 42-3. =this Senecall man . . . compare.= He is so completely a
+Senecall man that he may be compared with, etc.
+
+=259=, 51-3. =Cacusses . . . still.= The legend of the Italian shepherd
+and robber Cacus, who carried his plunder to his cave or "den," is told
+by Ovid (_Fasti_, I, 544 ff.), Virgil (_AEneid_, VIII, 190 ff.), and
+other writers.
+
+=260=, 57-8. =Better . . . thrive:= it were better for a man to be
+buried alive than exist as a mere property for a despoliating government
+to grow rich upon.
+
+=265=, 98-102. =the late . . . on him.= It is singular that _Bussy
+D'Ambois_ contains no such "dying prophesie" as is here alluded to,
+unless the reference is to V, iv, 76-78. Bussy, as he dies, forgives his
+murderers (V, iv, 112).
+
+=267=, 37-9. =Hast thou . . . Reimes.= Cf. Appendix B. "At the
+Barricades this voice was heard: 'It is no longer time to dally, let us
+lead my lord to Reimes.'"
+
+=268=, 53. =The cause alike doth.= The same cause doth.
+
+=268=, 55-61. =which . . . counsailes.= Cf. Appendix B. "Advertisements
+were come to him from all parts, both within and without the realme,
+from Rome, Spaine, Lorraine, and Savoye, that a bloodie catastrophe
+would dissolve the assemblie."
+
+=268-69=, 62-8. =Retyre . . . exhale.= Cf. Appendix B. "The Archbishop
+of Lion . . . 'Retyring yourselfe from the Estates' (said he unto him)
+'you shall beare the blame to have abandoned France in so important an
+occasion, and your enemies, making their profit of your absence, wil
+sone overthrowe al that which you have with so much paine effected for
+the assurance of religion.'"
+
+=270=, 89-91. =To be . . . eternitie:= to be His image is to do the
+deeds that confer immortality, which, owing to the existence of death,
+consists only in doing the deeds that befit eternal life.
+
+=270=, 102. =Thou dream'st awake now.= Guise here turns Clermont's own
+words in l. 41 against him.
+
+=272=, 144-8. =those loveliest eyes . . . teares.= A much more
+overwhelming calamity than that which befell the lady in the original
+narrative, where it is stated that owing to her "passion . . . she lost
+the sight of one eye for a tyme."
+
+=276=, 18-19. =for not . . . neglect:= for the counsels that you
+disclose you do not render of no account.
+
+=278=, 29. =this mortal quarrie:= this deadly attack. _Quarry_ is
+generally used of slaughtered game, but it also signifies the attack or
+swoop of the bird or beast of prey on its victim, and here we have an
+extension of this sense.
+
+=280=, 3-6. =I . . . enter.= Chapman here combines two episodes assigned
+by De Serres to different days. Cf. Appendix B. "The eve before his
+death, the Duke himselfe sitting down to dinner, found a scroule under
+his napkin, advertising him of this secret ambush." On the following
+morning "the Duke of Guise comes, and attending the beginning of the
+councell sends for a handkercher. . . . Pericart, his secretarie . . .
+ties a note to one of the corners thereof, saying, 'Come forth and save
+your selfe, else you are but a dead man.'"
+
+=281=, 34-5. =Not . . . goe.= Taken in conjunction with III, iii, 24,
+this means: Hercules is no match for two foes, but Guise will encounter
+two, though with Hercules as their ally.
+
+=283=, 61-3. =y'have a brother to . . . on him.= Louis de Lorraine,
+youngest brother of the Duke of Guise, became Archbishop of Rheims in
+1574, and Cardinal in 1578.
+
+=286=, 33-4. =the sword . . . life.= Cf. _Bussy D'Ambois_, V, iv,
+114-118.
+
+=286=, 41-2. =Hee will lie . . . shee cryes.= This habit of the lapwing
+gave the bird an evil reputation as a symbol of deceitfulness. Cf.
+_Measure for Measure_, I, iv, 32.
+
+             Though 'tis my familiar sin
+     With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest,
+     Tongue far from heart.
+
+For a sarcastic hit at a different trick of the lapwing, cf. _Hamlet_,
+V, ii, 174.
+
+=289=, 85. =[Enter Renel, the Countess, and] Charlotte above.= The
+addition of the bracketed words is necessary, as the Q gives no
+indication of the entrance of these two characters. They appear with
+Charlotte "above," i. e. in a gallery at the back of the stage. When
+Charlotte, enraged at Clermont's slowness in dispatching Montsurry,
+"gets downe" (l. 87), they remain in the gallery unobserved.
+
+=291=, 125-7. =That the Shatillions ghost . . . death.= Gaspar de
+Chatillon, better known as Admiral de Coligny, the champion of the
+Huguenot party, was murdered during "the Massacre of St. Bartholomew,"
+on Aug. 24, 1572, at the instigation of the Duke of Guise.
+
+=293=, 161. =I . . . descend.= Renel and the Countess have overheard
+from the gallery (cf. note on l. 85) Clermont's speech, and Renel,
+realising that it foreshadows suicide, descends in the hope of
+preventing this. But, as he has to lead his blind companion, his
+progress is slow, and when they "enter" the main stage (l. 203), it is
+too late.
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX A
+
+DE LA MORT PITOYABLE DU VALEUREUX LYSIS
+
+
+Under this title, in the 17th of the series of tales founded on fact
+which he calls _Les Histoires Tragiques de Nostre Temps_, Francois de
+Rosset relates in 1615 the story of Bussy's death. In the Preface to the
+volume he declares: "Ce ne sont pas des contes de l'Antiquite fabuleuse
+. . . Ce sont des histoires autant veritables que tristes et funestes.
+Les noms de la pluspart des personnages sont seulement desguisez en ce
+Theatre, a fin de n'affliger pas tant les familles de ceux qui en ont
+donne le suject, puis qu'elles en sont assez affligees." We thus find
+that the outlines of the story of "Lysis" tally with what we know about
+Bussy from other sources, and Rosset not improbably preserves details
+omitted by the historians of the period.
+
+Lysis, Rosset tells us, was sprung from one of the most noble and
+renowned Houses of France. At seventeen he had acquired an extraordinary
+reputation for bravery, which increased till "jamais la France depuis le
+valeureux Roland, ne porta un tel Palladin." Afterwards "il vint a la
+cour du Prince qui venoit de quiter une Couronne estrangere, pour
+recevoir celle qui luy appartenoit par les droits de la loy Salique, [i.
+e. Henry III, who gave up the throne of Poland on succeeding to that of
+France.] . . . Les rares dons dont il estoit accomply luy acquirent tant
+de part aux bonnes graces du premier Prince du sang Royal, qu'il estoit
+tousiours aupres de luy. . . . Mais l'envie . . . tous les jours . . .
+faisait de mauvais rapports a sa Maieste de Lysis, de sorte qu'elle le
+voyoit d'aussi mauvais oeil, que l'autre Prince, son proche parent,
+faisoit conte de sa prouesse."
+
+He had never been the victim of love, but he was instantly captivated by
+the beautiful eyes of a lady whom he met at an assembly at the house of
+a Judge in one of the towns of which he was Governor.
+
+"Ceste beaute, pour le respect que je dois a ceux a qui elle
+appartenoit, sera nommee Sylvie. . . . Cette dame . . . estoit mariee
+avec un grand Seigneur, jeune, vaillan, sage, discret et courtois." She
+would not at first gratify her lover's passion, though she granted him
+"de petites privautez," which only fanned the flame. He wrote her a
+letter in which he declared that if she refused him her favour, it meant
+his sentence of death. She replied in a temporising manner that when he
+had given proofs of his fidelity, she would decide as to what she ought
+to do. Rosset asserts that these two letters are not invented, but that
+he obtained them from a friend who had made a collection of such
+epistles, and who "a este curieux de scavoir le nom des personnes qui
+les ont escrites."
+
+Meanwhile, he continues, "elle donne le vray moyen a Lysis de la voir,
+sans le souciet qu'on en parle, pourveu que sa conscience la deffende.
+Et particulierement ce fut en un jardin qui est a l'un des fauxbourgs de
+la ville." Some tale-bearers, putting the worst construction on their
+behaviour, gave information to Lisandre, the husband of Sylvie, but he
+refused to credit anything to the dishonour of his wife. To stop gossip,
+however, he took her with him to a house he had not far from the town.
+But the lovers communicated with one another by messengers, till
+Lisandre's departure on a journey removed all obstacle to their
+intercourse. "Ce Seigneur avait des affaires hors de la province ou il
+faisoit pour lors sa demeure. Pour les terminer, il s'y achemine au
+grand contentement de Sylvie, qui neantmoins contrefaisoit la dolente a
+son depart & le sommoit de revenir le plustot qu'il luy seroit possible,
+tandis que dans son ame elle prioit a Dieu que son voyage fust aussi
+long que celuy d'Ulysse." When he was gone, she immediately sent for
+Lysis, and they spent two or three days in transports of delight, though
+she continued to safeguard her honour.
+
+On Lisandre's return the King, instigated by the enemies of Lysis,
+reproached the former for tamely enduring dishonour, and bade him never
+reappear in the royal presence till he had wiped out the stain. Lisandre
+therefore offered his wife the choice of three courses. She was to
+swallow poison, or die beneath his dagger, or write to Lysis, telling
+him that Lisandre was still absent, and begging him to come to her.
+After a struggle Sylvie wrote the fatal missive, and Lysis, though at
+the castle gate he was overcome by a premonition of evil and almost
+turned back, was obedient to her summons, and entered her chamber
+unarmed. The final scene is thus described.
+
+"A l'instant il se void environne d'une douzaine d'hommes armez, qui de
+pistolets, qui d'espees nues, et qui de hallebardes. Lisandre est parmy
+eux, qui luy crie: 'C'est maintenant que tu recevras le salaire de la
+honte que tu as faicte a ma maison. Ce disant, il lasche un pistolet, et
+luy perce un bras. Les autres le chargent avec leurs halebardes, et avec
+leurs espees. . . . Le valeureux Lysis . . . avec un escabeau qu'il
+tient en main donne si rudement sur la teste de l'un de ses adversaires,
+qu'il en fait sortir la cervelle. Il en assomme encores deux autres:
+mais que peut-il faire contre tant de gens, & ainsi desarme qu'il est?
+Son corps perce comme un crible, verse un grand ruisseau de sang. En fin
+il se jette sur Lisandre, et bien que par derriere on luy baille cent
+coups de poignards, il le prend, et le souleve, prest a le jetter du
+haut en bas d'une fenestre, si tous les autres ensemble, en se jettant
+sur luy, ne l'en eussent empesche. Il les escarte encores a coups de
+poings & neantmoins il sesent tousiours percer de part en part. Voyant
+qu'il ne pouvoit eschapper la mort, il s'approche de la fenestre & puis,
+tout sanglant qu'il est, il saute legerement en bas. Mais, o malheur, il
+portoit un accoustrement decouppe, qui est arreste par le fer d'un
+treillis. Ses adversaires le voyant ainsi empestre comme un autre
+Absalon, luy donnent tant de coups de halebardes, qu'a la fin, ils
+privent le monde du plus grand courage, et de la plus grande valeur du
+siecle. O valeureux Lysis! que je plains l'injustice de ton sort!"
+
+It will be seen that Rosset's account of the final episodes, beginning
+with the intervention of the King, agrees, in the main details, with the
+following description by De Thou, which appeared in 1620, in the Genevan
+edition of the _Historiae Sui Temporis_, lib. LXVIII, p. 330 (vol. III,
+p. 675, of Buckley's edition, 1733).
+
+"Dum[310:1] adhuc Andinus in aula esset, literas per jocum regi
+ostenderat a Ludovico Claramontio Ambosiano Bussio ad se scriptas;
+quibus, pro summa quae ei cum hero suo juvene erat familiaritate,
+significabat se feram magni venatoris (ita uxorem vocabat Caroli Cambii
+Monsorelli comitis, quem ea dignitate Andinus paulo ante Bussii
+commendatione ornaverat) indagine cinxisse, et in plagas conjecisse.
+Quas literas rex retinuerat, et Bussii jam a longo tempore insolenti
+arrogantia et petulantia irritatus, occasionem inde sumpsit veteres ab
+eo acceptas injurias ulciscendi. Is siquidem, et dum in aula esset,
+nullo non contumeliae genere in proceres et gynaeceum etiam aulicum usus
+fuerat, fiducia pugnacitatis qua se terribilem cunctis reddiderat; sed
+etiam postquam se ad comitatum Andini receperat, dum Andegavi arcem toto
+illo tractu munitissimam et urbi populosae impositam teneret, oppidanis
+et toti provinciae gravis ob crebras exactiones, quas privata
+auctoritate, non consulto plerumque Andino ipso, faciebat, summum omnium
+odium in se concitaverat. Igitur rex Monsorellum, qui tunc forte in aula
+erat, clam revocat, et literas Bussii ei ostendit; additque se decoris
+familiae et ejus dignitatis perquam studiosum, noluisse rem adeo
+injuriosam eum celare; ceterum scire ipsum debere, quid consilii in tali
+occasione se capere deceat et oporteat. Nec plura elocutus hominem
+dimittit, qui, non solum injuriae tantae morsu perculsus, sed monitis
+regis incitatus, quae ille tanquam ignaviae exprobationem si injuriam
+ferret accipiebat, protinus domum revolat, summo silentio, ut Bussium
+lateret: astuque per uxorem ad Bussium literas dari curat, quibus ei
+horam ad secretum Coustanteriae condicebat; ea erat arx voluptuaria et
+venationibus opportuna; ad quam cum Bussius cum Colladone conscio sub
+vesperam XIV Kal. Sept. venisset, ab ipso Monsorello et aliis loricatis
+oppressus: tamen, qua erat animi praesentia, quamvis unus contra plures,
+summa vi percussores initio disjecit; tandemque numero victus, spiritu
+inter certandum deficiente, cum se in fossam per fenestram praecipitare
+vellet, a tergo interfectus est."
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[310:1] While the Duke of Anjou was still at Court, he had shown in jest
+to the King, a letter which had been written to him by Louis de Clermont
+Bussy d'Ambois. In this letter, owing to the very intimate terms on
+which he stood with his young patron, he told him that he had enclosed
+and caught in his net the hind of a mighty hunter. Thus he termed the
+wife of Charles de Chambes, Count of Montsoreau, on whom the Duke had
+conferred that title a short time before, at the recommendation of
+Bussy. This letter the King had kept, and as he had long been annoyed by
+Bussy's insolent arrogance and his petulant temper, he availed himself
+of this opportunity of avenging the old insults he had received from
+him. Even while he was at Court, he had been guilty of every sort of
+insult to nobles and Court ladies, trusting to his prowess as a
+swordsman, by which he made himself a terror to every one. So also after
+he had betaken himself to the district of Anjou, occupying, as he did,
+the citadel of Angers, the most powerful stronghold in all that
+district, and commanding the populous city, he had made himself a burden
+to the townspeople and the whole province by his frequent exactions,
+generally made on his own authority, without consulting the Duke of
+Anjou. He had thus stirred up against himself a deep-seated and
+universal hatred.
+
+Therefore the King secretly called aside Montsoreau, who was then at
+Court, and showed him Bussy's letter, and added that, as he was
+extremely solicitous about his family honour and his dignity, he did not
+wish to conceal so insulting a matter from him; for the rest he ought to
+know himself what measures it behoved him to take under such
+circumstances. Without further words he dismissed Montsoreau. The Count,
+stung to the quick by so grave an injury to his honour, and excited by
+the admonitions of the King, which he interpreted as reproaches for his
+cowardice, should he tamely bear the insult, at once flew home, in the
+greatest secrecy, so that Bussy should not know of his return. By a
+stratagem he arranged that a letter should be sent by his wife to Bussy,
+making a secret assignation with him at La Coutanciere, which was a
+pleasure-resort and convenient for hunting purposes. When Bussy came
+there with his associate Colasseau at nightfall on the nineteenth of
+August, he was fallen upon by Montsoreau and other armed men. Yet, such
+was his coolness, that though he was one against many, he at first by
+mighty exertions discomfited his assailants. At length, overcome by
+numbers, and breath failing him in the struggle, he tried to throw
+himself out of the window into the castle-moat, but was stabbed in the
+back and killed.
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX B
+
+HISTORICAL SOURCES OF THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS
+
+
+I
+
+PIERRE MATTHIEU'S NARRATIVE OF THE ARREST OF THE COUNT D'AUVERGNE,
+INCORPORATED BY EDWARD GRIMESTON IN HIS TRANSLATION OF JEAN DE SERRES'S
+INVENTAIRE GENERAL DE L'HISTOIRE DE FRANCE
+
+(1046.)[313:1] "The King offended with the practises of the Count of
+Auvergne, commanded him to come unto him, and to trust unto his
+clemency, the which was not unknowne unto him. Descures made some
+jorneys unto him, from whome he brought nothing but delaies and excuses.
+. . .
+
+(1047.) "The King, therefore, seeing that he would not come but with
+conditions that did not agree with a perfect obedience, resolved to have
+him by one means or other. . . . The King's intention was imparted to
+the Vicont of Pont du Chasteau, to D'Eurre, Lieutenant of the Duke of
+Vandosmes company, to the Baron of Camilac, to La Boulaye, Lieutenant to
+the company of the Marquis of Verneuil, to Nerestan, Colonell of a
+Regiment of foote, and to so many others as it is a wonder it was not
+divulged being in so many heads. In this action all shewed the duties
+and affections of good men which respected their honours. Many means
+were attempted but they were incountred with great difficulties and
+crosses. . . . The surest meanes (& that wherein there was least trouble
+and scandall) was the mustring of the Duke of Vandosmes company. . . .
+D'Eurre who prest Murat (Treasorer extraordinary of the warres) to paie
+his company a muster, intreated the count of Auvergne to see it, to the
+ende hee might assure the King that hee had gallant men and good horses,
+and that all his companions should be wonderfully honored with the
+presence of their coronell. 'I will part to morrowe' sayd the Count of
+Auvergne 'to hunt at Alezou, and will returne againe on Monday at night;
+I pray you bee heere at super, and lodge your company at Normain, to the
+ende that the next day, after that wee have dronke, runne at the ring,
+and dined, we may see it.'
+
+(1048.) "This was done as he had appointed. . . . D'Eurre came to
+Clermont on Monday at night, and goes unto him where he supped in one of
+their houses that managed this businesse. . . . The next day, the ninth
+of November, the morning was spent in running at the ring. . . . They
+went to dinner, and it was well observed that the Count of Auvergne had
+some distrust. He hath since confest that hee was ready to call the two
+brothers of Murat into his cabinet, and to cause them to be searcht, for
+that he was well advertised that they alwayes carryed the Kings letters
+and his commandments. But a great resolution, thinking that there is no
+more harme in fearing then in the thing that causeth feare, feares
+extremely to make shewe that hee hath any feare. After dinner D'Eurre
+asked, 'If it pleased him to go to horse to see the musters.' He
+answered him; 'That it should be presently, and that he should use
+speed.' He retyred himselfe soone after into his cabinet and went downe
+. . . mounted upon a Scottish horse (which Vitry had given him) the
+which would have outrunne all the horses of France. He would not attend
+the other noblemen for that he distrusted them, having an intent to
+passe on, if he found them not ready. But beeing come to the place, he
+found the company in battell. This great diligence made him somewhat
+jealous, and they might perceive him, that, pulling up his cloake, he
+drewe his sword foure fingers out, yet without any amazement. D'Eurre,
+seeing him make even the reynes of his horse, came to him trotting, with
+his hat in his hand, and hearing him sweare with a great oath that he
+had been very dilligent, 'You may see, my lord' (answered he) 'I have
+caused my companions to advance, for that I would not trouble you with
+attendance.' 'Monsieur D'Eurre' (replyed the Earle) 'you are one of my
+friends, I cannot make any long stay here.' To whome D'Eurre said: 'All
+my companions are not yet here, but, if it please you, you shall see
+this troupe, and judge of the whole by a part.' Hereupon he sees some
+horsemen come and demands what they were. D'Eurre told him: 'That it was
+Nerestan, who had beene at Rion about a sute of his daughters.' He
+beleeved it, for he knewe that Nerestan had stayd some dayes at Rion and
+yet his heart began to suspect more. But it was too late, hee was
+environed on every side, and hardly can one resist many. Nerestan
+lighted to salute him, and having entertayned him with some discourse
+uppon the occasion of his staye at Rion, or of his returne to Court, he
+went presently to horse-back, and thrust on one of the lackquaies with
+his foote, for a signe and token of the beginning of the execution.
+
+"One of Nerestans three lackquaies takes holde of his horse by the
+bridle. D'Eurre, seeing that Nerestan had taken the right side to salute
+the Count of Auvergne, went unto the left, and laying hold with his hand
+uppon the hilt of his sword, he sayd unto him that hee had commandement
+from the King to take him. The other two laquais pulled him so roughly
+from his horse, as he had like to have fallen to the ground; hee was
+mooved to see himselfe so intreated by laquais, intreating D'Eurre to
+cause two of his companions to light, and that hee might not see those
+rascalls any more. Nerestan sayd unto him that they were soldiars so
+attyred to serve the King in this action. A peece shott into the ayre by
+chance made him to doubt worse measure, so as hee intreated D'Eurre that
+he would not use his pistolet. D'Eurre freed him from these
+apprehensions, intreating him to resolve upon the Kings will, and not to
+force them to intreat him otherwise than they desired. 'Well,' said hee,
+'I yeeld, what will you have mee to doe?' 'That you mount upon the
+trompets horse,' sayd D'Eurre. It was feared that he would not have
+suffered himselfe to bee taken so easily nor so quietly, as wee have
+seene many great courages choose rather to be cut in peeces then to see
+themselves reserved for some shamefull end, and others that have
+willingly dyed, for that they would not die by force. When as he sees
+himselfe in the toyles invironed on al sides . . . hee sayd, 'Ah! in the
+Divels name, I doubted all this.' Being mounted upon the trompets nagg,
+they conduct him presently to Aigueperse. Before hee had gone a hundred
+paces, he intreated D'Eurre to lend him one of his troupe, to carry some
+message of his remembrance, and of his miserie, to a ladie that attended
+him. De Pleche had the charge. Shee who had not prepared her heart to
+withstand the assaults of a most extreame and sensible griefe, tooke
+D'Eurre for the object, against whome shee poured forth the furie of her
+passions. 'If I knew' (sayd shee unto this gentleman) 'that I might save
+him in forcing through your troupe, I would willingly doe it, and if I
+had but tenne men of my courage and resolution, you should not carrie
+him where you thinke. But I will never die till I have given D'Eurre a
+hundred shott with a pistoll, and to Murat a hundred blowes with a
+sword.' These were the passions of her love, transported with a
+resolution beyond her sexe, and which did participate of a man, of a
+troubled mind, and of love. This last makes miracles of marvells and
+marvells of miracles, in wills that are equally toucht with his
+inspirations. . . . Shee loved him well, and was well beloved: for the
+Count of Auvergne hath been heard say, that if the King did set him at
+libertie, and send him back to his house, uppon condition that hee
+should not see this ladie, hee would rather desire to die. Shee
+presently ordered the affaires of her house, the disposition of her
+furniture, and the retreat of her servants. This passion going from the
+memorie to the thought, from the thought to the heart, from the heart to
+the eyes, made her to powre forth so many teares, as shee lost the sight
+of one eye for a tyme. . . .
+
+"All the way hee seemed no more afflicted, then when hee was at
+libertie. He tould youthfull and idle tales of his love, and the
+deceiving of ladies. Hee shott in a harquebuse at birds, wherein hee was
+so perfect and excellent, as hee did kill larkes as they were flying. .
+. .
+
+(1050.) "We may observe in this apprehension many things that may breed
+admiration and amazement, and which shewe that men do in vaine furnish
+themselves with wisedome against Heaven and with intelligences against
+the King. The Count of Auvergne had advertisements from all places that
+they should take him, and that the Kings pensioners were in the field to
+that effect. His most inward and neerest friends and, among others
+Florac, knewe it, and said nothing unto him, preferring his duty to his
+Prince before all affection. The Constable was also as well informed
+thereof as any other and yet he made no shewe thereof. . . . His duty
+prescribed him a law to all the bounds of nature; so there is not any
+one but is more bound to the service of the King and his country then
+to his owne health, or to that of his children. A gentleman, being at
+his table, speaking of this taking, said, 'Sir, if the King should
+command mee to take you, I would doe it, although I bee your most humble
+servant, that you march in the first rankes of greatnesse in the realm,
+and that all things touching armes, depend upon your commandments.' 'I
+beleeve it' (answered the Constable) 'else you should do ill, for the
+King is both your King and mine. I am your friend.' There is no love nor
+affection to dispence any one from the Kings commandments."
+
+
+II
+
+GRIMESTON'S TRANSLATION OF J. DE SERRES'S NARRATIVE OF THE MURDER OF THE
+DUKE OF GUISE IN HIS INVENTAIRE GENERAL
+
+The King determines to get rid of Guise, "this newe starre in the East
+whom the people worshipped already." (722.) "Hee hath caused bookes to
+bee printed in favour of the lawfull succession of the House of Lorraine
+to the Crowne. At the Barricades this voice was heard: 'It is no longer
+time to dally, let us lead my lord to Reimes.' He hath suffered himselfe
+to be saluted by the people, with cries and acclamations which belong
+only to the Soveraigne Prince."
+
+The Duke, scenting danger, thinks of absenting himself from the meetings
+of the Estates, but is dissuaded.
+
+(723.) "The Archbishop of Lion, attending a Cardinals hatt within a few
+dayes from Rome, 'Retyring your selfe from the Estates' (said he unto
+him) 'you shall beare the blame to have abandoned France in so important
+an occasion, and your enemies, making their profit of your absence, wil
+sone overthrowe al that which you have with so much paine effected for
+the assurance of religion.'
+
+"Man doth often loose his judgement upon the point of his fal.
+Advertisements were come to him from all parts, both within and without
+the realme, from Rome, Spaine, Lorraine and Savoye, that a bloodie
+catastrophe would dissolve the assemblie. The almanakes had well
+observed it: it was generally bruted in the Estates, that the execution
+should be on Saint Thomas day. The eve before his death, the Duke
+himselfe sitting downe to dinner, found a scroule under his napkin,
+advertising him of this secret ambush. But (as ambition blinds those
+whome shee hath raised up to the pies nest, and the furie of Gods
+judgements confounds such as trust in their authoritie) he writ
+underneath, with his owne hand 'They dare not'; and threw it under the
+table.
+
+"The Duke of Guise, following the councell of the Cardinall Morosin, had
+the one and twentith of December incensed the King a new by some bold
+and presumptous speeches. . . . The King had the two and twentith day
+following prepared seven of his five and fortie (they were gentlemen
+whome hee had appointed to be neere his person, besides the ordinarie
+archers of his gard) to execute his will, and by many dispatches had
+assured those townes which hee held to bee most mutinous. The three and
+twentith he assembles his Councell somewhat more early in the morning
+then was usuall, having a devotion to go after dinner, and to spend the
+holidayes at our Ladie of Clery. . . . The Duke of Guise comes, and
+attending the beginning of the councell sends for a handkercher: (the
+groome of [724] his chamber had forgotten to put one into his hose.)
+Pericart, his secretarie, not daring to commit this new advertisement to
+any mans report, ties a note to one of the corners thereof, saying,
+'Come forth and save your selfe, else you are but a dead man.' But they
+stay the page that carried it. Larchant, captaine of the Kings gard,
+causeth an other to be given unto him with all speed by Saint Prix, the
+chiefe grome of the Kings chamber. The Castle gates are shutt, and the
+Councell sits about eight of the clocke.
+
+"The spirit of man doth often prophecie of the mischeefe that doth
+pursue him. So whilest they dispute of a matter propounded by
+Petremolle, the Duke feeles strange alterations, and extraordinary
+distemperatures, and, amidest his distrust, a great fainting of his
+heart. Saint Prix presents unto him some prunes of Brignolles and
+raisins of the sunne. Hee eats, and thereupon the King calls him into
+his Cabinet by Revoll, one of the secretaries of his Estate, as it were
+to confer with him about some secret of importance. The Duke leaves the
+Councell to passe unto the Cabinet: and as he did lift up the tapistrie
+with one hand to enter, they charge him with their swords, daggers, and
+pertuisans: yet not with so great violence, but he shewed the murtherers
+the last endeavours of an invincible valour and courage.
+
+"Thus lived and thus died Henry of Lorraine, Duke of Guise: a Prince
+worthie to be in the first rankes of Princes, goodly, great, tall of
+proportion, amiable of countenance, great of courage, readie in the
+execution of his enterprises, popular, dissembling, but covering the
+secrets of his minde with his outward behaviour, imbracing all times and
+occasions, politike in stratagems, making much of his souldiars, and
+honouring his captaines. But a Prince who hath blemished the greatest
+beautie of his practises by extreame ambition; factious, a great
+bragger, vaine in beleeving of soothsayers who assured him of his
+greatnes, and of the change of his familie into a royaltie, proud, not
+able to submit his hopes, even to those from whome hee should hope for
+his advancement, giving men to understand by his inclination, that he
+was not borne to obey, but to commaund, and with this dessein, he framed
+the minds of the French, by his first actions, to beleeve that he had
+partes fit to make a strange alteration in a realme."
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[313:1] The numbers refer to the pages of Grimeston's volume.
+
+
+
+
+Bibliography
+
+_The place of publication is London unless otherwise indicated._
+
+
+I. TEXTS
+
+=1607=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: A TRAGEDIE: As it hath been often presented
+at Paules. London, Printed for William Aspley, [B. M. C. 34. c. 12.]
+
+=1608=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: [&c. A reissue of the 1607 edition, with the
+date altered. B. M. 644. d. 41.]
+
+=1613=, 4o. THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS. A TRAGEDIE. As it hath beene
+often presented at the private Play-house in the White-Fryers. Written
+by George Chapman, Gentleman. London. Printed by T. S. and are to be
+solde by Iohn Helme, at his Shop in S. Dunstones Church-yard, in
+Fleetstreet. [B. M. C. 34. c. 16.]
+
+=1641=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: A TRAGEDIE: As it hath been often Acted with
+great Applause. Being much corrected and amended by the Author before
+his death. London. Printed by A. N. for Robert Lunne. [B. M. 644. d.
+42.]
+
+=1646=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: [A . . . London, as in 1641 edition.]
+Printed by T. W. for Robert Lunne and are to be sold at his house next
+doore to the signe of the Crane on Lambeth Hill at the end of old
+Fishstreet. [B. M. 644. d. 43. A reissue of the 1641 edition with the
+imprint altered.]
+
+=1657=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS: A TRAGEDIE: As it hath been often Acted with
+great applause. Being much corrected and amended by the Author, George
+Chapman, Gent. Before his death. London, Printed, for Joshua Kirton, at
+his Shop in St. Pauls Church-yard, at the sign of the Kings-Arms. [B. M.
+644. d. 44. Another reissue of the 1641 edition, with a new title-page.]
+
+[Baker in his _Biographia Dramatica_ (1812) II, 73, mentions an edition
+of Bussy D'Ambois in 1616, but no copy of such an edition has been
+traced, and Dilke, _Old English Plays_ (1814) vol. III, p. 228, is
+probably right in considering that the entry is an error for that of
+1646, which Baker does not mention.]
+
+=1691=, 4o. BUSSY D'AMBOIS OR THE HUSBANDS REVENGE. A TRAGEDY. As it is
+Acted at the Theatre Royal. Newly Revised by Mr. D'Urfey [quotation from
+the Satires of Horace]. London. Printed for R. Bently in Covent Garden,
+Jo. Hindmarsh over against the Royal Exchange, and Abel Roper at the
+Mitre near Temple Bar.
+
+=1814=, 8o. OLD ENGLISH PLAYS; being a selection from the early dramatic
+writers. [Volume III contains _Bussy D'Ambois_, together with _Monsieur
+D'Olive_, and Dekker's _The Wonder of a Kingdom_ and _Old Fortunatus_. A
+short life of Chapman is prefixed to _Bussy D'Ambois_. The text is that
+of the edition of 1641, in modernised spelling. The notes contain some
+of the variants in the Q of 1607, and explanations of many difficult
+phrases. The editor, though his name does not appear, was C. W. Dilke,
+afterwards editor of the _Athenaeum_, and grandfather of the present Sir
+C. W. Dilke.]
+
+=1873=, 8o. THE COMEDIES AND TRAGEDIES OF GEORGE CHAPMAN. Now first
+collected, with illustrative notes and a memoir of the author. In three
+volumes. London. John Pearson York Street Covent Garden. [Vol. II
+contains _Bussy D'Ambois_ and _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_, together
+with _Byron's Conspiracie and Tragedie_ and _May-Day_. The text of
+_Bussy D'Ambois_ is, where differences of reading occur, that of the
+edition of 1641, the variants of 1607 being given (with some
+inaccuracies) at the foot of the page. Otherwise the spelling of 1607 is
+followed, and the title-page of the 1607 Quarto is faultily reproduced.
+_The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_ is reprinted from the 1613 Quarto, in
+the original spelling, and with a faulty reproduction of the title-page.
+The explanatory notes to both plays are very slight, but there is a
+valuable introductory memoir to vol. I, giving extracts from previous
+criticisms of Chapman.]
+
+=1874-5=, 8o. THE WORKS OF GEORGE CHAPMAN: edited with notes, by Richard
+Herne Shepherd. [Vol. I, Plays, vol. II, Homer's _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_,
+vol. III, Poems and Minor Translations, Chatto and Windus. An edition in
+modernised spelling, and with merely a sprinkling of notes. To vol. III
+is prefixed Mr. A. C. Swinburne's _Essay on the Poetical and Dramatic
+Works of George Chapman_, the finest and most comprehensive study of
+Chapman's writings.]
+
+=1895=, 8o. GEORGE CHAPMAN edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by
+William Lyon Phelps, M.A. Ph.D. London: T. Fisher Unwin. New York:
+Charles Scribner's Sons. [This volume of the _Mermaid Series_ contains
+_Bussy D'Ambois_ and _The Revenge_, together with _Byron's Conspiracie
+and Tragedie_ and _All Fools_. The text is reprinted from the edition of
+1873, but with the spelling modernised. There is an introductory memoir
+containing an "appreciation" of Chapman as a dramatist, and brief
+explanatory notes are added at the foot of the text.]
+
+
+II. WORKS AND ARTICLES USEFUL FOR STUDY OF THE PLAYS
+
+=1681.= DEDICATION OF THE SPANISH FRIAR, J. Dryden. Reprinted in W. P.
+Ker's _Essays of John Dryden_, vol. I, pp. 244-50, Oxford, 1900.
+
+=1691.= THE LIVES AND CHARACTERS OF THE ENGLISH DRAMATICK POETS, G.
+Langbaine. Oxford.
+
+=1691.= ATHENAE OXONIENSES, Anthony a Wood: vol. II, pp. 575-81 (edition
+continued by Ph. Bliss, 1815). Short life of Chapman.
+
+=1808.= SPECIMENS OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS, Charles Lamb. Lamb quotes
+the following passages from _Bussy D'Ambois_: II, 1, 33-135; I, 1, 5-17;
+I, 1, 20-23; I, 1, 134-9; I, 2, 10-33. Further extracts, together with
+several from _The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois_, were added in 1827.
+
+=1818.= LECTURES ON THE DRAMATIC LITERATURE OF THE AGE OF ELIZABETH. W.
+Hazlitt. Lecture III, _On Marston, Chapman, Decker, and Webster_.
+
+=1821.= THE RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW, vol. IV: Article on _Chapman's Plays_.
+This Article deals with the Tragedies and gives long extracts from
+_Bussy D'Ambois_ and the two "Byron" plays. It concludes: "_The Revenge
+of Bussy D'Ambois_ we regret to say we have never seen. The rarity of
+the old plays is such, that they are only to be found in some public
+libraries, and in the extensive hoards of private collectors; and in
+such applications as we have reluctantly caused to be made, we confess,
+we have rather found the exclusive spirit of the monopolist, than the
+liberality of the enlightened lover of literature." A second Article, on
+the Comedies, is contained in vol. V.
+
+=1841.= THE EDINBURGH REVIEW, April: Article on _Beaumont and Fletcher
+and their Contemporaries_.
+
+=1865.= CHAPMAN IN SEINEM VERHAeLTNISS ZU SHAKESPEARE, F. Bodenstedt.
+_Shakspere Jahrbuch_, I, Berlin.
+
+=1874.= THE CORNHILL MAGAZINE, July: article on _Chapman's Dramatic
+Works_.
+
+=1875.= GEORGE CHAPMAN: A CRITICAL ESSAY, A. C. Swinburne. A reprint of
+the Introductory Essay to vol. II of the Edition of Chapman's works
+edited by R. H. Shepherd. Chatto & Windus.
+
+=1887.= THE DICTIONARY OF NATIONAL BIOGRAPHY, vol. X, Article on _George
+Chapman_ by A. H. Bullen.
+
+=1891.= A BIOGRAPHICAL CHRONICLE OF THE ENGLISH DRAMA, F. G. Fleay, vol.
+I, pp. 50-66. Reeves and Turner.
+
+=1899.= A HISTORY OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC LITERATURE TO THE DEATH OF QUEEN
+ANNE, A. W. Ward. New and Revised Edition, vol. II, chap. vi, 408-450.
+Macmillan.
+
+=1892.= DER BLANKVERS IN DEN DRAMEN GEORGE CHAPMANS, Emil Elste. Halle.
+
+=1897.= QUELLEN-STUDIEN ZU DEN DRAMEN GEORGE CHAPMAN'S, PHILIP
+MASSINGER'S UND JOHN FORD'S, Emil Koeppel. An account of this important
+monograph, which is the 82d volume of the Strassburg _Quellen und
+Forschungen_ is given in the Introduction, p. xxxi.
+
+=1900.= GEORGE CHAPMAN UND DAS ITALIENISCHE DRAMA, A. L. Stiefel.
+_Shakspere Jahrbuch_, XXXV. Deals chiefly with the relation between
+Chapman's _May-Day_ and A. Piccolomini's _Alessandro_.
+
+=1901.= LETTERS AND DOCUMENTS BY GEORGE CHAPMAN, BEN JONSON, etc.,
+Bertram Dobell, printed in _The Athenaeum_, Nos. 3830-3833. These
+"letters and documents" form part of a small quarto MS. volume of about
+90 leaves, containing "copies of letters, petitions, or other documents
+dating from about 1580 to 1613." Mr. Dobell, to whom their publication
+is due, considers "that the writer or collector of the documents can
+have been no other than George Chapman." Six of these letters are
+reprinted in Prof. Schelling's edition of _Eastward Hoe_ and _The
+Alchemist_, 1903.
+
+=1903.= THE SOURCE OF CHAPMAN'S "THE CONSPIRACIE AND TRAGEDIE OF
+CHARLES, DUKE OF BYRON" AND "THE REVENGE OF BUSSY D'AMBOIS," F. S. Boas,
+in _The Athenaeum_, No. 3924, Jan. 10th.
+
+=1903.= SHAKESPEARE AND THE RIVAL POET, Arthur Acheson. John Lane. An
+attempt to identify Chapman with "the rival poet" alluded to in
+Shakespeare's Sonnets.
+
+=MS.= CHORUS VATUM, Joseph Hunter, British Museum Addit. MSS. 24488,
+vol. v, pp. 61-66. Article on _George Chapman_.
+
+
+III. HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL WORKS RELATING TO BUSSY D'AMBOIS
+
+=1604-20.= HISTORIAE SUI TEMPORIS, J. A. De Thou. The earliest editions,
+published in 1604, do not mention Bussy. That of 1609, which carries on
+the narrative to the year 1584, only mentions (lib. LII, p. 132) his
+proceedings during the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. It is the edition of
+1620, published at Geneva, and embracing events till 1607 that includes
+(lib. LXVIII, p. 330 ff.) the narrative of Bussy's murder, in printed
+Appendix A, and (lib. CXIII, p. 558) of Renee D'Ambois's meditated
+revenge (cf. Introduction, p. xxxvi). The most convenient edition of De
+Thou's History is that published by S. Buckley in 1733.
+
+=1615.= LES HISTOIRES TRAGIQUES DE NOSTRE TEMPS, Francois de Rosset. The
+story of Bussy's love for the Countess of Montsoreau, and his murder
+forms the subject of the 17th Histoire, _De la mort pitoyable du
+valeureux Lysis_, the most important parts of which are printed in
+Appendix A.
+
+=1621.= JOURNAL DE HENRI III, P. de L'Estoile. Paris.
+
+=1628.= MEMOIRES ET LETTRES, Marguerite de Valois. Paris. The edition
+published by F. Guessard for _La Societe de l'Histoire de France_ (1842)
+is the most convenient.
+
+=1666.= DISCOURS SUR LES COURONNELS DE L'INFANTERIE DE FRANCE, Pierre de
+Bourdeille, Seigneur de Brantome. Leyden.
+
+=1722.= DISCOURS SUR LES DUELS, Pierre de Bourdeille, etc. Leyden.
+
+=1877.= LE MAINE, L'ANJOU ET BUSSY D'AMBOISE, Arthur Bertrand. Le Mans.
+
+=1885.= LOUIS DE CLERMONT, SIEUR DE BUSSY D'AMBOISE, GOUVERNEUR D'ANJOU,
+Andre Joubert. Angers and Paris. A full and interesting study of Bussy's
+career based upon first-hand materials.
+
+=1888.= BUSSY D'AMBOISE, Leon Marlet. Paris. A sketchy memoir.
+
+
+IV. HISTORICAL WORKS RELATING TO EPISODES IN THE REVENGE OF BUSSY
+D'AMBOIS
+
+=1597.= INVENTAIRE GENERAL DE L'HISTOIRE DE FRANCE, Jean de Serres. A
+later edition in 1603 continues the narrative to the peace of Vervins in
+1598. Paris.
+
+=1605.= HISTOIRE DE FRANCE DURANT SEPT ANNEES DE PAIX DU REGNE DE HENRY
+IV, Pierre Matthieu. Paris.
+
+=1605.= CHRONOLOGIE SEPTENAIRE DE L'HISTOIRE DE LA PAIX ENTRE LES ROYS
+DE FRANCE ET D'ESPAGNE, P. V. Cayet. Paris.
+
+=1607.= A GENERAL INVENTORIE OF THE HISTORY OF FRANCE, Edward Grimeston.
+From the beginning of that monarchie unto the treatie of Vervins, in the
+yeare 1598. Written by Jhon de Serres, And continued unto these times,
+out of the best Authors which have written of that subject. Translated
+out of French into English. [A second edition, in 1611, continues the
+narrative till 1610.] Upon this volume see Introduction, pp. xxxii-xxxv.
+
+
+
+
+Glossary
+
+
+=absolute=, perfect.
+
+=abus'd=, deceived.
+
+=additions=, titles.
+
+=admiration=, wonder.
+
+=advis'd=, cautious, wary.
+
+=affect=, desire.
+
+=allow=, =allow'd=, approve, approved.
+
+=amazes=, bewilders.
+
+=annoy=, injure.
+
+=antickes=, buffoons.
+
+=apishnesse=, ridiculous imitation.
+
+=approves=, proves.
+
+=Argosea=, a large trading vessel.
+
+=arguments=, proofs.
+
+=auchthor=, be the agent of.
+
+=autenticall=, legally valid.
+
+=avise=, intelligence.
+
+
+=bare=, bareheaded.
+
+=barks=, outer coverings.
+
+=basilisks=, fabulous reptiles, whose glance was supposed to be fatal.
+
+=battailia=, order of battle.
+
+=belly-gods=, gluttons.
+
+=brack=, breach.
+
+=brave=, =braverie=, fine, finery.
+
+=bumbast=, _n._, padding.
+
+=bumbasts=, _vb._, stuffs out.
+
+
+=case=, skin.
+
+=cast=, (1) _p. p._, cast off, disused; (2) _vb._, conjecture.
+
+=censure=, judge.
+
+=challenge=, claim.
+
+=characters=, outward symbols.
+
+=check(e) at=, (1) take offence at; (2) go in pursuit of. _Used
+    technically of a hawk which turns aside from its proper quarry to
+    follow inferior game._
+
+=clear=, pure, innocent.
+
+=close=, secret.
+
+=coast=, travel in circuitous fashion.
+
+=colour=, pretence.
+
+=comfortable=, comforting.
+
+=companion=, base fellow.
+
+=conceit=, conception, thought.
+
+=confirm'd=, well-regulated.
+
+=consent=, sympathy.
+
+=contemptfull=, contemptible.
+
+=cries clinke=, strikes the favourable hour.
+
+=curious=, careful, scrupulous.
+
+
+=decent=, appropriate.
+
+=denizond=, naturalized.
+
+=designements=, arrangements.
+
+=discover=, reveal.
+
+=disparking=, turning park-land into plough-land.
+
+
+=emply=, imply.
+
+=encompast=, taken at a disadvantage.
+
+=enseame=, bring together, introduce. Cf. _Spens._ F. Q. IV, II, 35-6,
+    _where the word_ = "includes," "contains together."
+
+=errant=, productive of wandering.
+
+=events=, issues.
+
+=exhale=, draw up, raise.
+
+=exhalations=, meteors (cf. _Jul. Caesar_, II, i, 44).
+
+=explicate=, unfold.
+
+=expugn'd=, taken by storm.
+
+=exquire=, find out.
+
+
+=facts=, deeds.
+
+=fautor=, patron.
+
+=fivers=, _variant of_ fibres.
+
+=fleerings=, sneers.
+
+=forfeit=, fault.
+
+=foutre=, an exclamation of contempt.
+
+=fray=, frighten.
+
+
+=giddinesse=, foolhardiness.
+
+=glorious=, swelling, boastful.
+
+=Gordian=, Gordian knot.
+
+=graduate=, rise by steps.
+
+=grasse=, graze.
+
+
+=hackster=, a prostitute's gallant or protector.
+
+=haie=, a boisterous country dance.
+
+=heartlesse=, cowardly.
+
+=humourous=, full of humours, variable in temper.
+
+
+=idols=, images, counterfeits.
+
+=ill-favour'd=, of unpleasant appearance.
+
+=impe=, piece out. _Used, originally, in hawking, of the process of
+    grafting new feathers on a maimed wing._
+
+=implide=, _variant of_ employed.
+
+=inennerable=, indescribable.
+
+=informed=, moulded, fashioned.
+
+=ingenuous=, discerning; _used mistakenly for_ ingenious.
+
+=injurious=, insulting.
+
+=innative=, native.
+
+=intelligencers=, spies.
+
+
+=jealousie=, suspicion.
+
+=jet=, strut.
+
+=jiggs=, farces, jocular performances.
+
+
+=last=, a certain weight or quantity of goods. _In the case of powder,
+    it represented twenty-four barrels._
+
+=let=, hinder, prevent.
+
+=limit=, limitation.
+
+=lucerns=, hunting dogs. _Used in the same sense by Chapman in trans.
+    of_ Iliad, XI, 417. _The usual meaning of the word is lynx._
+
+
+=mall'd=, beaten with a mall or mallet, crushed.
+
+=manlessly=, inhumanly.
+
+=maritorious=, over-fond of a husband.
+
+=mate=, match oneself against.
+
+=meane=, moderation.
+
+=mezel'd=, leprous, fr. M. E. _mesel_, < O. F. _mesel_, _mezel_, leper,
+    < M. L. _misellus_, a wretched person.
+
+=mere=, complete.
+
+=misers=, wretched persons.
+
+=moon-calves=, false conceptions.
+
+
+=naps=, glossy surfaces on cloth.
+
+=naturalls=, idiots.
+
+=nice=, dainty, scrupulous.
+
+=nick=, notch.
+
+=novation=, revolution.
+
+
+=openarses=, medlars.
+
+=ostents=, manifestations.
+
+
+=part=, depart.
+
+=pedisequus=, (Lat.) lackey.
+
+=peece=, firearm, gun.
+
+=period=, conclusion.
+
+=politicall=, scheming.
+
+=pide=, dressed in motley.
+
+=prevented=, anticipated.
+
+=pricksong=, music written down with points.
+
+=proof=, firmness, impenetrability.
+
+=put-ofs=, excuses.
+
+
+=queich=, thicket.
+
+=quicke=, alive.
+
+
+=randon=, _earlier and more correct form of_ random, _O. F._ _randon_ f.
+    _randir_, to run fast.
+
+=ready=, dressed.
+
+=rebating=, blunting.
+
+=rebatoes=, ruffs.
+
+=rebutters=, rejoinders.
+
+=reminiscion=, remembrance.
+
+=remission=, forgiveness.
+
+=resolv'd=, informed.
+
+=revoke=, call back.
+
+=rivality=, rivalry.
+
+
+=scapes=, escapades.
+
+=secureness=, carelessness.
+
+=seres=, claws.
+
+=sensive=, endowed with sensation.
+
+=servant=, lover.
+
+=several=, separate.
+
+=shadowes=, sunshades, or broad-brimmed hats.
+
+=shifters=, tricksters, rogues.
+
+=skittish=, changeable, capricious.
+
+=sooth=, confirm, approve of.
+
+=spice=, piece, kind.
+
+=spinners=, spiders.
+
+=splinted=, supported.
+
+=standish=, inkstand.
+
+=stillado=, _rare variant of_ stiletto.
+
+=still'd=, distilled.
+
+=strappl'd=, strapped.
+
+=successe=, result.
+
+=surcharg'd=, overladen, vanquished.
+
+=swindge=, _n._, sway.
+
+=swindging=, swinging to and fro.
+
+
+=tall=, excellent, brave.
+
+=temper=, regulate.
+
+=touch=, censure.
+
+=toy=, whim.
+
+=tracts=, tracks, traces.
+
+=train=, stratagem.
+
+=triumphs=, pageants.
+
+=troe=, an exclamation of surprise, added after a question.
+
+=trumpet=, trumpeter.
+
+=trusse=, seize (_used specially of birds of prey_).
+
+
+=warning peece=, a shot discharged as a signal.
+
+=weather=, tempestuous commotion.
+
+=weed=, garment.
+
+=witty=, intelligent.
+
+=wrack=, wreck.
+
+=wreak=, revenge.
+
+
+=unready=, undressed.
+
+
+=vennie=, bout at fencing.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+
+No changes have been made to spelling or punctuation in the plays.
+
+The following corrections have been made to notes and commentary:
+
+     page xxxiv--"sequel to his most popular[original has popuular]
+     play"
+
+     page xxxvii--"et Monsorellum transactum fuit."[original is
+     missing ending quotation mark]
+
+     page xl--"well-known passage (II, i[original has 1], 205 ff.)"
+
+     page 298--added missing ending quotation mark in note =188=,
+     335-42.
+
+The following words used an oe ligature in the original:
+
+     Noevius       Oetaeus
+     oeil          Phoenician
+     Oeta
+
+Superscripted letters have been ignored.
+
+The following words were hyphenated across line breaks. They have been
+rejoined and moved to the upper line. A dash indicates where the word
+was broken in the original.
+
+     Act I. Sc. II., lines 106-7: mis-tresse
+     Act I. Sc. II., lines 200-1: him-selfe
+     Act III. Sc. II, lines 190-1: re-membred
+     Act III. Sc. II, lines 288-9: in-quisition
+     Act III. Sc. II, lines 292-3: there-fore
+     Dedication Letter to Revenge, lines 1-2: es-teemed
+     Dedication Letter to Revenge, lines 6-7: dedica-tion
+     Dedication Letter to Revenge, lines 8-9: great-nesse
+     Dedication Letter to Revenge, lines 14-15: judge-ments
+     Dedication Letter to Revenge, lines 21-22: ele-gant
+     Dedication Letter to Revenge, lines 34-35: pre-sent
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of
+Bussy D'Ambois, by George Chapman
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUSSY D'AMBOIS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 20890.txt or 20890.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/8/9/20890/
+
+Produced by Melissa Er-Raqabi, Ted Garvin, Lisa Reigel,
+Michael Zeug, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.