Bussy D'Ambois: A tragedy: As it hath been often presented at Paul's.  
LONDON, Printed for William Aspley. 1607.   

Bussy D'Ambois: A tragedy.  
Actus primi Scena prima.  Bussy solus. 
FOrtune, not Reason, rules the state of things,  
Reward goes backwards, Honour on his head;  
Who is not poor, is monstrous; only Need  
Gives form & worth to every human seed.  
As Cedars beaten with incessant storms,  
So great men flourish; and do imitate  
Unskilful statuaries, who suppose  
(In forging a Colossus) if they make him  
straddle enough, strut, and look big, and gape,  
Their work is goodly: so our tympanous statists  
(In their affected gravity of voice,  
Sourness of countenance, manners cruelty,  
Authority, wealth, and all the spawn of Fortune)  
Think they bear all the kingdoms worth before them;  
Yet differ not from those colossic Statues,  
Which with Heroic forms, without o'erspread,  
Within are nought but mortar, flint and lead.  
Man is a Torch borne in the wind; a Dream  
But of a shadow, summed with all his substance;  
And as great Seamen using all their powers  
And skills in Neptune's deep invisible paths,  
In tall ships richly built and ribbed with brass,  
To put a Girdle round about the world,  
When they have done it (coming near their Haven)  
Are glad to give a warning piece, and call  
A poor staid fisherman, that never passed  
His countries sight, to waft and guide them in:  
So when we wander furthest through the waves  
Of Glassy Glory and the Gulfs of State,  
Topped with all Titles, spreading all our reaches,  
As if each private Arm would sphere the world;  
we must to virtue for her guide resort,  
Or we shall shipwreck in our safest Port. Procumbit.  Monsieur with two Pages. 
There is no second place in Numerous State  
That holds more than a cipher: In a King  
All places are contained. 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 precedent for poor men's facts:  
There's but a Thread betwixt me and a Crown;  
I would not wish it cut, unless by nature;  
Yet to prepare me for that likely Fortune,  
'tis fit I get resolved spirits about me.  
I followed D'Ambois to this green Retreat;  
A man of spirit beyond the reach of fear,  
Who (discontent with his neglected worth)  
Neglects the light, and loves obscure Abodes;  
But he is young and haughty, apt to take  
Fire at advancement, to bear state and flourish;  
In his Rise therefore shall my bounties shine:  
None loathes the world so much, nor loves to scoff it,  
But gold and grace will make him surfeit of it.  
What, D'Ambois?  Buss. 
He sir.  Mons. 
Turned to Earth, alive?  
Up man, the Sun shines on thee.  Buss. 
Let it shine.  
I am no more to play in't, as great men are.  Mons. 
Thinkest thou men great in state, motes in the sun?  
They say so that would have thee freeze in shades,  
That (like the gross Sicilian gourmandist)  
Empty their Noses in the Cates they love,  
That none may eat but they. Do thou but bring  
Light to the Banquet Fortune sets before thee,  
And thou wilt loathe lean Darkness like thy Death.  
Who would believe thy metal could let sloth  
Rust and consume it? If Themistocles  
Had lived obscured thus in th'Athenian state,  
Xerxes had made both him and it his slaves.  
If brave Camillus had lurked so in Rome,  
He had not five times been dictator there,  
Nor four times triumphed. If Epaminondas  
(Who lived twice twenty years obscured in Thebes)  
Had lived so still, he had been still unnamed,  
And paid his Country nor himself their right:  
But putting forth his strength, he rescue both  
From imminent ruin; and like burnished Steel,  
After long use he shined; for as the light  
Not only serves to show, but render us  
Mutually profitable; so our lives  
In acts exemplary, not only win  
ourselves good Names, but doth to others give  
Matter for virtuous Deeds, by which we live.  Buss. 
What would you wish me do?  Mons. 
Leave the troubled streams,  
And live as Thrivers do at the Well head.  Buss. 
At the Well head? Alas what should I do  
With that enchanted Glass? See devils there?  
Or (like a strumpet) learn to set my looks  
In an eternal Brake, or practise juggling,  
To keep my face still fast, my heart still loose;  
Or bear (like Dames Schoolemistresses their Riddles)  
Two Tongues, and be good only for a shift;  
Flatter great Lords, to put them still in mind  
Why they were made Lords: or please portly Ladies  
With a good carriage, tell them idle Tales,  
To make their Physic work; spend a man's life  
In sights and visitations, that will make  
His eyes as hollow as his Mistress heart:  
To do none good, but those that have no need;  
To gain being forward, though you break for haste  
All the Commandments ere you break your fast?  
But Believe backwards, make your Period  
And Creeds last Article; I believe in God:  
And (hearing villainies preached) t' unfold their Art  
Learn to commit them, 'tis a great man's Part.  
Shall I learn this there?  Mons. 
No, thou needst not learn,  
Thou hast the Theory, now go there and practise.  Buss. 
ay, in a threadbare suit; when men come there,  
They must have high Naps, and go from thence bare:  
A man may drown the parts often rich men  
In one poor suit; Brave Barks, and outward Gloss  
Attract Court eyes, be in parts ne'er so gross.  Mons. 
Thou shalt have Gloss enough, and all things fit  
T'enchase in all show, thy long smothered spirit:  
Be ruled by me then. The rude Scythians  
Painted blind Fortunes powerful hands with wings,  
To show her gifts come swift and suddenly,  
Which if her Favourite be not swift to take,  
He loses them forever. Then be ruled: Exit Mons. Manet Buss.  
Stay but a while here, and I'll send to thee.  Buss. 
What will he send? some Crowns? It is to sow them  
Upon my spirit, and make them spring a Crown  
Worth Millions of the feed Crowns he will send:  
But he's no husband here; A smooth plain ground  
Will never nourish any politic seed;  
I am for honest Actions, not for great:  
If I may bring up a new fashion,  
And rise in Court with virtue; speed his plow:  
The King hath known me long as well as he,  
Yet could my Fortune never fit the length  
Of both their understandings till this hour.  
There is a deep nick in times restless wheel  
For each man's good, when which nick comes it strikes;  
As Rhetoric, yet works not persuasion,  
But only is a mean to make it work:  
So no man riseth by his real merit,  
But when it cries clink in his raiser's spirit:  
Many will say, that cannot rise at all,  
Man's first hours rise, is first step to his fall.  
I'll venture that; men that fall low must die,  
As well as men cast headlong from the sky.  Ent. Maffe. 
Humour of Princes. Is this man endued  
With any merit worth a thousand Crowns?  
Will my Lord have me be so ill a Steward  
Of his Revenue, to dispose a sum  
So great with so small cause as shows in him?  
I must examine this: Is your name D'Ambois?  Buss. 
Sir.  Maff. 
Is your name D'Ambois?  Buss. 
Who have we here?  
Serve you the Monsieur?  Maff. 
How?  Buss. 
Serve you the Monsieur?  Maff. 
Sir, you're very hot. I serve the Monsieur;  
But in such place as gives me the Command  
Of all his other servants: And because  
His grace's pleasure is, to give your good  
A Pass through my Command; Methinks you might  
Use me with more good fashion.  Buss. 
Cry you mercy.  
Now you have opened my dull eyes, I see you;  
And would be glad to see the good you speak of:  
What might I call your name?  Maff. 
Monsieur Maffe.  Buss. 
Monsieur Maffe? Then good Monsieur Maffe,  
Pray let me know you better.  Maff. 
Pray do so,  
That you may use me better, For yourself,  
By your no better outside, I would judge you  
To be a Poet; Have you given my Lord  
Some Pamphlet?  Buss. 
Pamphlet?  Maff. 
Pamphlet sir, I say.  Buss. 
Did his wise excellency leave the good  
That is to pass your charge, to my poor use,  
To your discretion?  Maff. 
Though he did not sir,  
I hope 'tis no bad office to ask reason,  
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?  Buss. 
No merit in the world sir.  Maff. 
That is strange.  
You're a poor soldier, are you?  Buss. 
That I am sir.  Maff. 
And have Commanded?  Buss. 
ay, and gone without sir.  Maff. 
I see the man: A hundred Crowns will make him  
Swagger, and drink healths to his highness bounty;  
And swear he could not be more bountiful.  
So there's nine hundred Crowns, saft; here tall soldier,  
His grace hath sent you a whole hundred Crowns.  Buss. 
A hundred sire nay do his Highness right;  
I know his hand is larger, and perhaps  
I may deserve more than my outside shows:  
I am a scholar, as I am a soldier,  
And I can poetize; and (being well encouraged)  
May sing his Fame for giving; yours for delivering  
(Like a most faithful Steward) what he gives.  Maff. 
What shall your subject be?  Buss. 
I care not much,  
If to his excellence I sing the praise  
Of fair great Noses, And to your Deserts  
The reverend virtues of a faithful Steward;  
What Qualities have you sir (beside your chain  
And velvet jacket) Can your worship dance?  Maff. 
A merry Fellow faith: It seems my Lord  
Will have him for his jester; And believe it,  
Such men are now no fools, 'tis a knight's place:  
If I (to save my Lord some Crowns) should urge him  
T'abate his Bounty, I should not be heard;  
I would to heaven I were an errant Ass,  
For then I should be sure to have the Ears  
Of these great men, where now their jesters have them:  
'tis good to please him, yet I'll take no notice  
Of his preferment, but in policy  
Will still be grave and serious, lest he think  
I fear his wooden dagger: Here sir Ambo,  
A thousand Crowns I bring you from my Lord;  
Serve God, play the good husband, you may make  
This a good standing living, 'tis a Bounty,  
His Highness might perhaps have bestowed better.  D'Amb. 
Go, you're a Rascal; hence, Away you Rogue.  Maff. 
What mean you sir?  D'Amb. 
Hence; prate no more;  
Or by thy villains blood thou prat'st thy last:  
A Barbarous Groom, grudge at his master's Bounty:  
But since I know he would as much abhor  
His hind should argue what he gives his friend,  
Take that Sir, for your aptness to dispute. Exit.  Maff. 
These Crowns are sown in blood, blood be their fruit.  Exit. Henry, Guise, Montsurry, Elenor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Pyr, Annable. Henr. 
Duchess of Guise, your Grace is much enriched,  
In the attendance of this English virgin,  
That will initiate her Prime of youth,  
(Disposed to Court conditions) under hand  
Of your preferred instructions and Command,  
Rather than any in the English Court,  
Whose Ladies are not matched in Christendom,  
For graceful and confirmed behaviours;  
More than the Court, where they are bred is equalled.  Guis. 
I like not their Court form, it is too crest-fallen,  
In all observance; making Semigods  
Of their great Nobles; and of their old Queen  
An ever-young, and most immortal Goddess.  Henr. 
Assure you cozen Guise, so great a Courtier,  
So full of majesty and Royal parts,  
No Queen in Christendom may boast herself,  
Her Court approves it, That's a Court indeed;  
Not mixed with Rudeness used in common houses;  
But, as Courts should be th'abstracts of their kingdoms,  
In all the Beauty, State, and Worth they hold;  
So is hers, amply, and by her informed.  
The world is not contracted in a man,  
With more proportion and expression  
Than in her Court, her Kingdom: Our French Court  
Is a mere mirror of confusion to it:  
The King and subject, Lord and every slave  
Dance a continual hay; Our Rooms of State,  
Kept like our stables; No place more observed  
Than a rude Market place: And though our Custom  
Keep this assured deformity from our sight,  
'tis near the less essentially unsightly,  
Which they would soon see, would they change their form  
To this of ours, and then compare them both;  
Which we must not affect, because in Kingdoms,  
Where the king's change doth breed the subjects terror,  
Pure Innovation is more gross than error.  Mont. 
No Question we shall see them imitate  
(Though afar off) the fashions of our Courts,  
As they have ever Aped us in attire;  
Never were men so weary of their Skins,  
And apt to leap out of themselves as they;  
Who when they travel to bring forth rare men,  
Come home delivered of a fine French suit:  
Their Brains lie with their Tailors, and get babies  
For their most complete issue; he's first borne  
To all the moral virtues, that first greets  
The light with a new fashion, which becomes them  
Like Apes, disfigured with the attires of men.  Henr. 
No Question they much wrong their real worth,  
In affectation of outlandish Scum;  
But they have faults, and we; They foolish-proud,  
To be the Pictures of our vanity;  
We proud, that they are proud of foolery.  Enter Monsieur, D'Ambois. Mons. 
Come mine own sweet heart I will enter thee.  
Sir, I have brought this Gentleman t'attend you;  
And pray, you would vouchsafe to do him grace.  Henr. 
D'Ambois, I think.  D'Amb. 
That's still my name, my Lord, though I be something altered in attire.  Henr. 
I like your alteration, and must tell you,  
I have expected th'offer of your service;  
For we (in fear to make mild virtue proud)  
Use not to seek her out in any man.  D'Amb. 
Nor doth she use to seek out any man:  
He that will win, must woo her; she's not shameless.  Mons. 
I urged her modesty in him, my Lord, and gave her those Rites, that he says she merits.  Henr. 
If you have wooed and won, than Brother wear him.  Mons. 
thouart mine, my love; See here's the Guise's Duchess. The Countess of Mountsurreave; Beaupres, come I'll enseam thee; Ladies, you're too many to be in Counsel: I have here a friend, that I would gladly enter in your Graces.  Duch. 
If you enter him in our Graces, methinks by his blunt behaviour, he should come out of himself.  Tam. 
Has he never been Courtier, my Lord?  Mons. 
Never, my Lady.  Beaup. 
And why did the Toy take him in th'head now?  D'Amb. 
'tis leap year, Lady, and therefore very good to enter a Courtier.  Tam. 
The man's a Courtier at first sight.  D'Amb. 
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.  D'Amb. 
Think me not impudent, Lady, I am yet no Courtier, I desire to be one, and would gladly take entrance (Madam) under your Princely Colours.  Gui. 
Sir, know you me?  D'Amb. 
My Lord?  Gui. 
I know not you: Whom do you serve?  D'Amb. 
Serve, my Lord?  Gui. 
Go to Companion; Your Courtship's too saucy.  D'Amb. 
Saucy? Companion? 'tis the Guise, but yet those terms might have been spared of the Guiserd.  
Companion? he's jealous by this light: are you blind of that side Sir? I'll to her again for that. Forth Madam, for the honour of Courtship.  Gui. 
Cease your Courtship, or by heaven I'll cut your throat.  D'Amb. 
Cut my throat? cut a whetstone; good Accius Noevius, do as much with your tongue as he did with a Razor; cut my throat?  Gui. 
I'll do't by this hand.  D'Amb. 
That hand dares not do't; you'ave cut too many  
Throats already Guise; and Robbed the Realm of  
Many thousand Souls, more precious than thine own.  
Come Madam, talk on; 'sfoot, can you not talk?  
Talk on I say, more Courtship, as you love it.  Enter Barrisor, L' Anou, Pyrlot. Bar. 
What newcome Gallant have we here, that dares mate the Guise thus?  L' An. 
'sfoot 'tis D'Ambois; The Duke mistakes him (on my life) for some Knight of the new edition.  D'Amb. 
Cut my throat? I would the King feared thy cutting of his throat no more than I fear thy cutting of mine.  Gui. 
So Sir, so.  Pyr. 
here's some strange distemper.  Bar. 
here's a sudden transmigration with D'Ambois, out of the knight's ward, into the Duchess bed.  L'An. 
See what a Metamorphosis a brave suit can work.  Pyr. 
'slight step to the Guise and discover him.  Bar. 
By no means, let the new suit work, we'll see the issue.  Gui. 
Leave your Courtship.  D'Amb. 
I will not. I say mistress, and I will stand unto it, that if a woman may have three servants, a man may have threescore mistresses.  Gui. 
Sirrah, I'll have you whipped out of the Court for this insolence.  D'Amb. 
Whipped? Such another syllable out o' th' presence, if thou dar'st for thy Dukedom.  Gui. 
Remember, poltroon.  Mons. 
Pray thee forbear.  Buss. 
Passion of death! Were not the King here, he should strew the Chamber like a rush.  Mons. 
But leave Courting his wife then.  Buss. 
I will not: I'll Court her in despite of him. Not Court her! Come Madam, talk on; Fear me nothing: Well mayst thou drive thy master from the Court; but never D'Ambois.  Mons. 
His great heart will not down, 'tis like the Sea  
That partly by his own internal heat,  
Partly the star's daily and nightly motion,  
ardour and light, and partly of the place,  
The divers frames; And chiefly by the Moon,  
Bristled with surges, never will be won,  
(No, not when th'hearts of all those powers are burst)  
To make retreat into his settled home,  
Till he be crowned with his own quiet foam.  Henr. 
You have the mate. Another.  Gui. 
No more.  Exit Guise, after him the King, Mons. whispering. Bar. 
Why here's the Lion, scared with the throat of a dunghill Cock; a fellow that has newly shaked off his shackles; Now does he crow for that victory.  L' An. 
'tis one of the best jigs that ever was acted.  Pry. 
Whom does the Guise suppose him to be trow?  L' An. 
Out of doubt, some new denizened Lord; and thinks that suit come new out o' th' Mercers books.  Bar. 
I have heard of a fellow, that by a fixed imagination looking upon a bull-baiting, had a visible pair of horns grew out of his forehead: and I believe this Gallant overjoyed with the conceit of Monsieurs cast suit, imagines himself to be the Monsieur.  L' An 
And why not? as well as the Ass, stalking in the lion's case, bear himself like a Lion, roaring all the huger beasts out of the Forest?  Pry. 
Peace, he looks this way.  Bar. 
Marry let him look sir, what will you say now if the Guise be gone to fetch a blanket for him?  L' An. 
Faith I believe it for his honour.  Pyr. 
But, if D'Ambois carry it clean?  Bar. 
True, when he curvets in the blanket.  Pyr. 
I marry sir.  L' An. 
'sfoot, see how he stars on's.  Bar. 
Lord bless us, let's away.  Buss. 
Now sir, take your full view: how does the Object please ye?  Bar. 
If you ask my opinion sir, I think your suit sits as well as if't had been made for you.  Buss. 
So sir, and was that the subject of your ridiculous jollity?  L' An. 
What's that to you sir?  Buss. 
Sir, I have observed all your fleerings; and resolve yourselves ye shall give a strict account for't.  Enter Brisac Melynell. Pyr. 
O strange credulity! Do you think yourself Such a singular subject for laughter, that none can fall into Our merriment but you?  Bar. 
This jealousy of yours sir, confesses some close defect in yourself, that we never dreamed of.  L An. 
We held discourse of a perfumed Ass, that being disguised with a lion's case, imagined himself a Lion: I hope that touched not you.  Buss. 
So sir: Your descants do marvelous well fit this ground, we shall meet where your Buffonly laughters will cost ye the best blood in your bodies.  Bar. 
For life's sake let's be gone; he'll kill's outright.  Buss. 
Go at your pleasures, I'll be your Ghost to haunt you, and ye sleep an't, hang me.  L' An. 
Go, go sir, Court your mistress.  Pyr. 
And be advised: we shall have odds against you.  Buss. 
Tush, valour stands not in number: I'll maintain it, that one man may beat three boys.  Bris. 
Nay you shall have no odds of him in number sir: he's a gentleman as good as the proudest of you, and ye shall not wrong him.  Bar. 
Not sir.  Mely. 
Not sir: Though he be not so rich, he'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 kindness, if I thought these perfumed musk-cats (being out of this privilege) durst but once mew at us.  Bar. 
Does your confident spirit doubt that sir? Come follow us and try.  L'An. 
Come sir, we'll lead you a dance. Exeunt.  
Finis Actus primi.   

Actus secundi Scena prima.  Henry, Guise, Beaumond, Nuncius. Henr. 
THis desperate quarrel sprung out of their envies  
To D'Ambois sudden bravery, and great spirit.  Gui. 
Neither is worth their envy.  Henr. 
Less than either  
Will make the Gall of Envy overflow;  
She feeds on outcast entrails like a Kite:  
In which foul heap, if any ill lies hid,  
She sticks her beak into it, shakes it up,  
And hurls it all abroad, that all may view it.  
Corruption is her Nutriment; but touch her  
With any precious ointment, and you kill her:  
When she finds any filth in men, she feasts,  
And with her black throat bruits it through the world;  
(Being sound and healthful) But if she but taste  
The slenderest pittance of commended virtue,  
She surfeits of it, and is like a fly,  
That passes all the bodies soundest parts,  
And dwells upon the sores; or if her squint eye  
Have power to find none there, she forges some:  
She makes that crooked ever which is straight;  
calls valour giddiness, justice Tyranny:  
A wise man may shun her, she not herself;  
Whither soever she flies from her Harms,  
She bears her Foe still clasped in her own Arms:  
And therefore x Guise let us avoid her.  Enter Nuncius. 
What Atlas, or Olympus lifts his head  
So far past Covert, that with air enough  
My words may be informed? And from his height  
I may be seen, and heard through all the world?  
A tale so worthy, and so fraught with wonder,  
Sticks in my jaws, and labours with event.  Henr. 
Com'st thou from D'Ambois?  Nun. 
From him, and the rest  
His friends and enemies; whose stern fight I saw,  
And heard their words before, and in the fray.  Henr. 
Relate at large what thou hast seen and heard.  Nun. 
I saw fierce D'Ambois, and his two brave friends  
Enter the Field, and at their heels their foes;  
Which were the famous soldiers; Barrisor,  
L'Anou, and Pyrrhot, great in deeds of Arms:  
All which arrived at the evenest piece of earth  
The field afforded; The three Challengers  
Turned head, drew all their rapiers, and stood ranked:  
When face to face the three Defendants met them,  
Alike prepared, and resolute alike,  
Like bonfires of Contributory wood:  
Every man's look show'd, Fed with either's spirit,  
As one had been a mirror to another,  
Like forms of life and death, each took from other;  
And so were life and death mixed at their heights,  
That you could see no fear of death, for life;  
Nor love of life, for death: But in their brows  
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 Spartan King should end  
The nine years war) held up his brazen lance  
For signal, that both Hosts should cease from Arms,  
And hear him speak: So Barrisor (advised)  
Advanced his Naked Rapier twixt both sides,  
Ripped up the Quarrel, and compared six lives;  
Then laid in balance with six idle words,  
Offered remission and contrition too;  
Or else that he and D'Ambois might conclude  
The others dangers. D'Ambois liked the last;  
But Barrisor's friends (being equally engaged  
In the main Quarrel) never would expose  
His life alone, to that they all deserved.  
And (for the other offer of remission)  
D'Ambois (that like a Laurel put in fire,  
Sparkled and spit) did much much more than scorn,  
That his wrong should incense him so like chaff,  
To go so soon 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 fiery D'Ambois;  
Pyrhot with Melinell; with Brisac L'Anou:  
And then like flame and Powder they commixed,  
So sprightly, that I wished they had been spirits,  
That the ne'er shutting wounds, they needs must open,  
Might as they opened, shut, and never kill:  
But D'Ambois sword (that lightened as it flew)  
Shot like a pointed Comet at the face  
Of manly Barrisor; and there it stuck:  
Thrice plucked he at it, and thrice drew on thrusts,  
From him, that of himself was free as fire;  
Who thrust still as he plucked, yet (past belief!)  
He with his subtle eye, hand, body, 'scaped;  
At last the deadly bitten point tugged off,  
On fell his yet undaunted Foe so fiercely,  
That (only made more horrid with his wound)  
Great D'Ambois shrunk, and gave a little ground;  
But soon returned, redoubled in his danger,  
And at the heart of Barrisor sealed his anger:  
Then, as in Arden I have seen an Oak  
Long shook with tempests, and his lofty top  
Bent to his root, which being at length made loose  
(Even groaning with his weight) he 'gan to Nod  
This way and that: as loath his curled Brows  
(Which he had oft wrapped in the sky with storms)  
Should stoop: and yet, his radical fever's burst,  
Stormlike he fell, and hid the fear-cold Earth.  
So fell stout Barrisor, that had stood the shocks  
Often set Battles in your highness war,  
'gainst the sole soldier of the world, Navarre.  Gui. 
O piteous and horrid murder!  Beau. 
Such a life  
methinks had metal in it to survive  
An age of men.  Henr. 
Such, often soonest end.  
Thy felt report calls on, we long to know  
On what events the other have arrived.  Nun. 
Sorrow and fury, like two opposite fumes,  
Met in the upper Region of a Cloud,  
At the report made by this worthies fall,  
broke from the earth, and with them rose Revenge,  
Entering with fresh powers his two noble friends;  
And under that odds fell surcharged Brisac,  
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 angry Unicorn in his full carrier  
Charge with too quick an eye a jeweller,  
That watched him for the Treasure of his brow;  
And ere he could get shelter of a tree,  
Nail him with his rich Antler to the Earth:  
So D'Ambois ran upon revenged L'Anou,  
Who eyeing th'eager point borne in his face,  
And giving back, fell back, and in his fall  
His foes uncurbed sword stopped in his heart:  
By which time all the life strings of the tw'other  
Were cut, and both fell as their spirits flew  
Upwards: and still hunt Honour at the view.  
And now (of all the six) sole D'Ambois stood  
Untouched, save only with the other's blood.  Henr. 
All slain outright?  Nun. 
All slain outright but he,  
Who kneeling in the warm life of his friends,  
(All feebled with the blood, his Rapier rained)  
He kissed their pale cheeks, and bade both farewell;  
And see the bravest man the French earth bears.  Enter Monsieur, D'Amb. bore. Buss. 
Now is the time, you're Princely vowed my friend,  
Perform it Princely, and obtain my pardon.  Mons. 
Else Heaven, forgive not me: Come on brave friend.  
If ever Nature held herself her own,  
When the great Trial of a King and subject  
Met in one blood, both from one belly springing:  
Now prove her virtue and her greatness One,  
Or make the t'one the greater with the tother,  
(As true Kings should) and for your brother's love,  
(Which is a special species of true virtue)  
Do that you could not do, not being a King.  Henr. 
Brother I know your suit; these wilful murders  
Are ever past our pardon.  Mons. 
Manly slaughter  
Should never bear th' account of wilful murder;  
It being a spice of justice, where with life  
Offending past law, equal life is laid  
In equal balance, to scourge that offence  
By law of reputation, which to men  
Exceeds all positive law, and what that leaves  
To true men's valours (not prefixing rights  
Of satisfaction, suited to their wrongs)  
A free man's eminence may supply and take.  Henr. 
This would make every man that thinks him wronged,  
Or is offended, or in wrong or right,  
Lay on this violence, and all vaunt themselves,  
Law-menders and suppliers though mere Butchers;  
Should this fact (though of justice) be forgiven?  Mons. 
O no, my Lord; it would make Cowards fear  
To touch the reputations of full men,  
When only they are left to imp the law,  
justice will soon distinguish murderous minds  
From just revengers: Had my friend been slain,  
(His enemy surviving) he should die,  
Since he had added to a murmured fame  
(Which was in his intent) a murdered man;  
And this had worthily been wilful murder:  
But my friend only saved his fame's dear life,  
Which is above life, taking th'under value,  
Which in the wrong it did, was forfeit to him;  
And in this fact only preserves a man  
In his uprightness; worthy to survive  
Millions of such as murder men, alive.  Henr. 
Well brother, rise, and raise your friend withal  
From death to life: and D'Ambois, let your life  
(Refined by passing through this merited death)  
Be purged from more such foul pollution;  
Nor on your scape, nor valour more presuming,  
To be again so violent.  Buss. 
My Lord,  
I loathe as much a deed of unjust death,  
As law itself doth; and to tyrannize,  
Because I have a little spirit to date,  
And power to do, as to be tyrannized;  
This is a grace that (on my knees redoubled)  
I crave to double this my short life's gift;  
And shall your royal bounty Centuple,  
That I may so make good what God and nature  
Have given me for my good: since I am free,  
(Offending no just law) let no law make  
By any wrong it does, my life her slave:  
When I am wronged and that law fails to right me,  
Let me be King myself (as man was made)  
And do a justice that exceeds the law:  
If my wrong pass the power of single valour  
To right and expiate; then be you my King,  
And do a Right, exceeding Law and Nature:  
Who to himself is law, no law doth need,  
Offends no King, and is a King indeed.  Henr. 
Enjoy what thou intreat'st, we give but ours.  Buss. 
What you have given, my Lord, is ever yours. Exit Rex cum Beau.  Gui. 
Mort dieu, who would have pardoned such a murder?  Mons. 
Now vanish horrors into Court attractions, Exit.  
For which let this balm make thee fresh and fair.  Buss. 
How shall I quite your love?  Mons. 
Be true to the end:  
I have obtained a Kingdom with my friend. Exit,  Montsur. Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Pyrha. Mont. 
He will have pardon sure.  Tam. 
'twere pity else:  
For though his great spirit something overflow,  
All faults are still borne, that from greatness grow:  
But such a sudden Courtier saw I never.  Beau. 
He was too sudden, which indeed was rudeness.  Tam. 
True, for it argued his no due conceit  
Both of the place, and greatness of the persons:  
Nor of our sex: all which (we all being strangers  
To his encounter) should have made more manners  
Deserve more welcome.  Mont. 
All this fault is found  
Because he loved the Duchess and left you.  Tam. 
alas, love give her joy; I am so far  
From Envy of her honour, that I swear,  
Had he encountered me with such proud sleight:  
I would have put that project face of his  
To a more test, than did her duchessship.  Be. 
Why (by your leave my Lord) I'll speak it here,  
(Although she be my aunt) she scarce was modest,  
When she perceived the Duke her husband take  
Those late exceptions to her servants Courtship  
To entertain him.  Tam. 
ay, and stand him still.  
Letting her husband give her servant place:  
Though he did manly, she should be a woman.  Enter Guise. 
D'Ambois is pardoned: where's a king? where law?  
See how it runs, much like a turbulent sea;  
Here high, and glorious, as it did contend  
To wash the heavens, and make the stars more pure:  
And here 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.  Mont. 
Be pleased, I'll straight return. Exit cum Guise.  Tamy. 
Would that would please me.  Beau. 
I'll leave you Madam to your passions.  
I see, there's change of weather in your looks. Exit cum suis.  Tamy. 
I cannot cloak it: but; as when a fume,  
Hot, dry and gross: within the womb of earth  
Or in her superficies begot:  
When extreme cold hath struck it to her heart,  
The more it is compressed, the more it rageth;  
Exceeds his prison's strength that should contain it,  
And then it tosseth Temples in the air;  
All bars 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 hour observed  
Can stand above it: I must utter that  
That will in parting break more strings in me,  
Than death when life parts: and that holy man  
That, from my cradle, counselled for my soul:  
I now must make an agent for my blood.  Enter Monsieur. Mons. 
Yet, is my Mistress gracious?  Tamy. 
Yet unanswered?  Mons. 
Pray thee regard thine own good, if not mine,  
And cheer my Love for that; you do not know  
What you may be by me, nor what without me;  
I may have power t'advance and pull down any.  Tamy. 
That's not my study: one way I am sure  
You shall not pull down me: my husband's height  
Is crown to all my hopes: and his retiring  
To any mean state, shallbe my aspiring:  
Mine honour's in mine own hands, spite of kings.  Mons. 
Honour, what's that? your second maidenhead:  
And what is that? a word: the word is gone  
The thing remains: the rose is plucked, the stalk  
Abides: an easy loss where no lack's found:  
Believe it there's as small lack in the loss,  
As there is pain i'th' losing: archers ever  
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.  Tamy. 
Wise wives they are that on such strings depend,  
With a firm husband, weighing a dissolute friend.  Mons. 
Still you stand on your husband, so do all  
The common sex of you, when you're encountered  
With one ye cannot fancy: all men know  
You live in court here by your own election,  
Frequenting all our solemn sports and triumphs,  
All the most youthful company of men:  
And wherefore do you this? To please your husband?  
'tis gross and fulsome: if your husband's pleasure  
Be all your Object, and you aim at Honour,  
In living close to him, get you from Court,  
You may have him at home; these common Puttofs  
For common women serve: my honour? husband?  
dame's meritorious, ne'er were meritorious:  
Speak plain and say I do not like you Sir,  
You're an ill-favoured fellow in my eye,  
And I am answered.  Tamy. 
Then I pray be answered:  
For in good faith my Lord I do not like you  
In that sort you like.  Mons. 
Then have at you here:  
Take (with a politic hand) this rope of Pearl;  
And though you be not amorous: yet be wise:  
Take me for wisdom; he that you can love  
Is near the further from you.  Tamy. 
Now it comes  
So ill prepared, that I may take a poison,  
Under a medicine as good cheap as it:  
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 lose me:  
Honour and husband?  Tamy. 
By this light my Lord  
You're a vile fellow: and I'll tell the King  
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 defamed  
With an infamous Lords detraction:  
Who would endure the Court if these attempts,  
Of open and professed lust must be borne?  
whose's there? come on Dame, you are at your book  
When men are at your mistress; have I taught you  
Any such waiting woman's quality?  Mons. 
Farewell good husband. Exit Mons.  Mont. 
Farewell wicked Lord.  Enter Mont. 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 husband's wife:  
I cannot live at quiet in my chamber  
For opportunities almost to rapes  
Offered me by him.  Mont. 
Pray thee bear with him:  
Thou know'st he is a Bachelor, and a Courtier,  
ay, and a Prince: and their prerogatives  
Are, to their laws, as to their pardons are  
Their reservations, after Parliaments  
One quits another: form gives all their essence:  
That Prince doth high in virtues reckoning stand  
That will entreat a vice, and not command:  
So far bear with him: should another man  
Trust to his privilege, he should trust to death:  
Take comfort then (my comfort) nay triumph,  
And crown thyself, thou partest with victory:  
My presence is so only dear to thee,  
That other men's appear worse than they be.  
For this night yet, bear with my forced absence:  
Thou know'st my business; and with how much weight,  
My vow hath charged it.  Tam. 
True my Lord, and never  
My fruitless love shall let your serious profit,  
Yet, sweet Lord, do no stay, you know my soul  
Is so long time without me, and I dead  
As you are absent.  Mont. 
By this kiss, receive  
My soul for hostage, till I see my love.  Tam. 
The morn shall let me see you:  Mont. 
With the sun  
I'll visit thy more comfortable beauties.  Tam. 
This is my comfort, that the sun hath left  
The whole world's beauty ere my sun leaves me.  Mont. 
'tis late night now indeed: farewell my light. Exit.  Tam. 
Farewell my light and life: But not in him.  
Alas, that in the wave of our affections  
We should supply it with a full dissembling,  
In which each youngest maid is grown a mother,  
Frailty is fruitful, one sin gets another:  
Our loves like sparkles are that brightest shine,  
When they go out most vice shows most divine:  
Go maid, to bed, lend me your book I pray:  
Not like yourself, for form, I'll this night trouble  
None of your services: Make sure the doors,  
And call your other fellows to their rest.  Per. 
I will, yet I will watch to know why you watch. Exit.  Tam. 
Now all the peaceful regents of the night,  
Silently-gliding exhalations,  
Languishing winds, and murmuring falls of waters,  
Sadness of heart, and ominous secureness,  
Enchantments, dead sleeps, all the friends of rest,  
That ever wrought upon the life of man,  
Extend your utmost strengths; and this charmed hour  
Fix like the Centre; make the violent wheels  
Of Time and Fortune stand; and Great Existens  
(The maker's treasury) now not seem to be,  
To all but my approaching friends and me:  
They come, alas they come, fear, fear and hope  
Of one thing, at one instant fight in me:  
I love what most I loathe, and cannot live  
Unless I compass that that holds my death:  
For love is hateful without love again,  
And he I love, will loathe me, when he sees  
I fly my sex, my virtue, my Renown,  
To run so madly on a man unknown.  
See, see the gulf is opening, that will swallow  
Me and my fame for ever; I will in,  
And cast myself off, as I ne'er had been. Exit.  Com. 
Come worthiest son, I am past measure glad,  
That you (whose worth I have approved so long)  
Should be the Object of her fearful love;  
Since both your wit and spirit can adapt  
Their full force to supply her utmost weakness:  
You know her worths and virtues, for Report  
Of all that know, is to a man a knowledge:  
You know beside, that our affections storm,  
Raised in our blood, no Reason can reform.  
Though she seek then their satisfaction,  
(Which she must needs, or rest unsatisfied)  
Your judgement will esteem her peace thus wrought,  
Nothing less dear, than if yourself had sought:  
And (with another colour, which my Art  
Shall teach you to lay on) yourself must seem  
The only agent, and the first Orb Move,  
In this our set, and cunning world of Love.  Buss. 
Give me the colour (my most honoured Father)  
And trust my cunning then to lay it on.  Com. 
'tis this, good son; Lord Barrisor (whom you slew)  
Did love her dearly, and with all fit means  
Hath urged his acceptation, of all which  
She keeps one letter written in his blood:  
You must say thus then, That you heard from me  
How much herself was touched in conscience  
With a Report (which is in truth dispersed)  
That your main quarrel grew about her love,  
Lord Barrisor, imagining your Courtship  
Of the great Guise's Duchess in the Presence,  
Was by you made to his elected mistress:  
And so made me your mean now to resolve her,  
Choosing (by my direction) this night's depth,  
For the more clear avoiding of all note,  
Of your presumed presence, and with this  
(To clear her hands of such a lovers blood)  
She will so kindly thank and entertain you,  
( methinks I see how) ay, and ten to one,  
Show you the confirmation in his blood,  
Lest you should think report and she did feign,  
That you shall so have circumstantial means,  
To come to the direct, which must be used:  
For the direct is crooked; Love comes flying;  
The height of love is still won with denying.  D' Amb. 
Thanks honoured Father.  Commolet. 
She must never know  
That you know any thing of any love  
Sustained on her part: For learn this of me;  
In any thing a woman does alone,  
If she dissemble, she thinks 'tis not done;  
If not dissemble, nor a little chide,  
Give her her wish, she is not satisfied;  
To have a man think that she never seeks,  
Does her more good than to have all she likes:  
This frailty sticks in them beyond their sex;  
Which to reform, reason is too perplex:  
Urge reason to them, it will do no good;  
Humour (that is the chariot of our food  
In everybody) must in them be fed,  
To carry their affections by it bred.  
Stand close.  Enter Tamyra. Tam. 
Alas, I fear my strangeness will retire him:  
If he go back, I die; I must prevent it,  
And cheer his onset with my sight at least,  
And that's the most; though every step he takes  
Goes to my heart, I'll rather die than seem  
Not to be strange to that I most esteem.  Com. 
Madam.  Tamy. 
Ah.  Com. 
You will pardon me, I hope,  
That, so beyond your expectation,  
(And at a time for visitants so unfit)  
I (with my noble friend here) visit you:  
You know that my access at any time  
Hath ever been admitted; and that friend  
That my care will presume to bring with me,  
Shall have all circumstance of worth in him,  
To merit as free welcome as myself.  Tamy. 
O father, but at this suspicious hour  
You know how apt best men are to suspect us,  
In any cause, that makes suspicious shadow  
No greater than the shadow of a hair:  
And you're to blame: what though my Lord and husband  
Lie forth tonight? and since I cannot sleep  
When he is absent, I sit up tonight,  
Though all the doors are sure, & all our servants  
As sure bound with their sleeps; yet there is one  
That sits above, whose eye no sleep can bind:  
He sees through doors, and darkness, and our thoughts;  
And therefore as we should avoid with fear,  
To think amiss ourselves before his search;  
So should we be as curious to shun  
All cause that other think not ill of us.  D'Amb. 
Madam, 'tis far from that: I only heard  
By this my honoured father, that your conscience  
Was something troubled with a false report;  
That Barrisor's blood should something touch your hand,  
Since he imagined I was courting you,  
When I was bold to change words with the Duchess,  
(And therefore made his quarrel; which my presence  
Presumed 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,  
And swear your presence does me so much comfort,  
That all I have, it binds to your requital:  
Indeed sir, 'tis most true that a report  
Is spread, alleging that his love to me  
Was reason of your quarrel, and because  
You shall not think I feign it for my glory,  
That he importuned me for his Court service,  
I'll show you his own hand, set down in blood  
To that vain purpose: Good Sir, then come in.  
Father I thank you now a thousand fold.  Com. 
May it be worth it to you honoured daughter.  
Finis Actus secundi.   

Actus Tertij Scena Prima.  Bucy, Tamyra. Tam. 
O My dear servant, in thy close embraces,  
I have set open all the doors of danger  
To my encompassed honour, and my life:  
Before I was secure against death and hell;  
But now am subject to the heartless fear:  
Of every shadow, and of every breath,  
And would change firmness with an aspen leaf:  
So confident a spotless conscience is;  
So weak a guilty: O the dangerous siege  
Sin lays about us? and the tyranny  
He exercises when he hath expugned:  
Like to the horror of a winter's thunder,  
Mixed with a gushing storm, that suffer nothing  
To stir abroad on earth, but their own rages;  
Is sin, when it hath gathered head above us:  
No roof, no shelter can secure us so,  
But he will drown our cheeks in fear or woe.  Buc. 
Sin is a coward Madam, and insults  
But on our weakness, in his truest valour:  
And so our ignorance tames us, that we let  
His shadows fright us: and like empty clouds  
In which our faulty apprehensions forge  
The forms of Dragons, Lions, Elephants,  
When they hold no proportion: the sly charms  
Of the witch policy makes him, like a monster  
Kept only to show men for Goddess money:  
That false hag often paints him: in her cloth  
Ten times more monstrous than he is in troth:  
In three of us, the secret of our meeting,  
Is only guarded, and three friends as one  
Have ever been esteemed: as our three powers  
That in our one soul, are, as one united:  
Why should we fear then? for my truth I swear  
Sooner shall torture, be the Sire to pleasure,  
And health be grievous to men long time sick,  
Than the dear jewel of your fame in me,  
Be made an outcast to your infamy;  
Nor shall my value (sacred to your virtues)  
Only give free course to it, from myself:  
But make it fly out of the mouths of kings  
In golden vapours, and with awful wings.  Tam. 
It rests as all kings seals were set in thee. Exit D' Amb. Manet Tamy.  Ta. 
It is not I, but urgent destiny,  
That (as great states men for their general end  
In politic justice, make poor men offend)  
Enforceth my offence to make it just:  
What shall weak Dames do, 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 lays still  
Our powers to it: as to the line, the stone,  
Not to the stone, the line should be opposed;  
We cannot keep our constant course in virtue:  
What is alike at all parts? every day  
Differs from other: every hour and minute:  
ay, every thought in our false clock of life,  
Oft times inverts the whole circumference:  
We must be sometimes one, sometimes another:  
Our bodies are but thick clouds to our souls;  
Through which they cannot shine when they desire:  
When all the stars, and even the sun himself,  
Must stay the vapours times that he exhales  
Before he can make good his beams to us:  
O how can we, that are but motes to him,  
wandering at random in his ordered rays,  
Disperse our passions fumes, with our weak labours,  
That are more thick & black than all earth's vapours?  Enter Mont. Mon. 
Good day, my love: what up and ready too!  Tam. 
Both, (my dear Lord) not all this night made I  
myself unready, or could sleep a wink.  Mont. 
alas, what troubled my true love? my peace,  
From being at peace within her better self?  
Or how could sleep forbear to seize thy beauties  
When he might challenge them as his just prize?  Tam. 
I am in no power earthly, but in yours;  
To what end should I go to bed my Lord,  
That wholly missed the comfort of my bed?  
Or how should sleep possess my faculties,  
Wanting the proper closer of mine eyes?  Mont. 
Then will I never more sleep night from thee:  
All mine own Business, all the Kings affairs  
Shall take the day to serve them: Every night  
I'll ever dedicate to thy delight.  Tam. 
Nay, good my Lord esteem not my desires  
Such doters on their humours, that my judgement  
Cannot subdue them to your worthier pleasure:  
A wives pleased husband must her object be  
In all her acts, not her soothed fantasy.  Mont. 
Then come my love, Now pay those Rites to sleep  
Thy fair eyes owe him: shall we now to bed?  Tam. 
O no my Lord, your holy Friar says,  
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. 
he's a most learned and Religious man;  
Come to the Presence then, and see great D'Ambois  
(Fortunes proud mushroom shot up in a night)  
Stand like an Atlas underneath the King;  
Which greatness with him Monsieur now envies  
As bitterly and deadly as the Guise.  Tam. 
What, he that was but yesterday his maker?  
His raiser and preserver?  Mont. 
even the same.  
Each natural agent works but to this end,  
To render that it works on, like itself;  
Which since the Monsieur in his act on D'Ambois,  
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 aim on his own breast,  
He turns his outward love to inward hate:  
A PRINCE's love is like the lightnings fume,  
Which no man can embrace, but must consume. Exeunt.  Henry, D'Ambois, Monsieur, Guise, Monts. Elenor, Tam. Pero. Henr. 
Speak home my Bussy, thy impartial words  
Are like brave Falcons that dare truss a fowl  
Much greater than themselves; Flatterers are Kites  
That check at nothing; thou shalt be my Eagle,  
And bear my thunder underneath thy wings:  
Truths words like jewels hang in th'ears of Kings.  Buss. 
Would I might live to see no Jews hang there  
In steed of jewels; sycophants I mean,  
Who use truth like the Devil, his true Foe  
Cast by the Angel to the pit of fears,  
And bound in chains; truth seldom decks king's ears:  
Slave flattery (like a Rippiers legs rolled up  
In boots of hay-ropes) with Kings soothed guts  
Swaddled and strappled, now lives only free.  
O 'tis a subtle knave; how like the plague  
Unfelt, he strikes into the brain of truth,  
And rageth in his entrails when he can,  
Worse than the poison of a red haired man.  Henr. 
Fly at him and his brood, I cast thee off,  
And once more give thee surname of mine Eagle.  Buss. 
I'll make you sport enough then, let me have  
My lucerns too (or dogs enured to hunt  
Beasts of most rapine) but to put them up,  
And if I truss not, let me not be trusted:  
Show me a great man (by the people's voice,  
Which is the voice of God) that by his greatness  
Bombasts his private roofs, with public riches;  
That affects royalty, rising from a clapdish;  
That rules so much more than his suffering King,  
That he makes kings of his subordinate slaves:  
Himself 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 own counsel keeping)  
Keep all upright; let me but hawk at him,  
I'll play the Vulture, and so thump his liver,  
That (like a huge unlading argosy)  
He shall confess all, and you then may hang him.  
Show me a Clergy man, that is in voice  
A Lark of Heaven; in heart a mole 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 Pheasants and your Partridges;  
Venting their Quintessence as men read Hebrew:  
Let me but hawk at him, and, like the other,  
He shall confess all, and you then may hang him.  
Show me a Lawyer that turns sacred law  
(The equal renderer of each man his own,  
The scourge of Rapine and Extortion,  
The Sanctuary and impregnable defence  
Of retired learning, and oppressed virtue)  
Into a Harpy, that eats all but's own,  
Into the damned sins it punisheth;  
Into the Synagogue of thieves and Atheists;  
Blood into gold, and justice into lust:  
Let me but hawk at him, as at the tother,  
He shall confess all, and you then may hang him.  Gui. 
Where will you find such game as you would hawk at?  Buss. 
I'll hawk about your house for one of them.  Gui. 
Come, you're a glorious Ruffian, and run proud  
Of the Kings headlong graces; hold your breath,  
Or by that poisoned vapour not the King  
Shall back your murderous valour against me.  Buss. 
I would the King would make his presence free  
But for one charge 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 soul sits and braves thy sovereign.  Mons. 
Peace, peace, I pray thee peace.  Buss. 
Let him peace first that made the first war.  Mons. 
he's the better man.  Buss. 
And therefore may do worst?  Mons. 
He has more titles.  Buss. 
So Hydra had more heads.  Mons. 
he's greater known.  Buss. 
His greatness is the peoples, mine's mine own.  Mons. 
he's nobly borne.  Buss. 
He is not, I am noble.  
And noblesse in his blood hath no gradation,  
But in his merit.  Gui. 
thouart not nobly borne,  
But bastard to the Cardinal of Ambois.  Buss. 
Thou liest proud Guiserd; let me fly (my Lord.)  Henr. 
Not in my face; (my Eagle) violence flies  
The Sanctuaries of a PRINCE's eyes.  Buss. 
Still shall we chide? and some upon this bit?  
Is the Guise only great in faction?  
Stands he not by himself? Proves he th'Opinion  
That men's souls are without them? Be a Duke,  
And lead me to the field.  Guis. 
Come, follow me.  Henr. 
Stay them, stay D'Ambois; cozen Guise, I wonder  
Your equal disposition brooks so ill  
A man so good, that only would uphold  
Man in his native noblesse, from whose fall  
All our dissensions rise; that in himself  
(Without the outward patches of our frailty,  
Riches and honour) knows he comprehends  
Worth with the greatest: king's had never borne  
Such boundless eminence over other men,  
Had all maintained the spirit and state of D'Ambois;  
Nor had the full impartial hand of nature  
That all things gave in her original,  
Without these definite terms of Mine and Thine,  
Been turned unjustly to the hand of Fortune:  
Had all preserved her in her prime, like D'Ambois;  
No envy, no disjunction had dissolved,  
Or plucked out one stick of the golden faggot,  
In which the world of Saturn was comprised,  
Had all been held together with the nerves,  
The genius and th'ingenuous soul of D'Ambois.  
Let my hand therefore be the Hermean rod  
To part and reconcile, and so conserve you,  
As my combined embracers and supporters.  Buss. 
'tis our king's motion, and we shall not seem  
(To worst eyes) womanish, though we change thus soon  
Never so great grudge for his greater pleasure.  Gui. 
I seal to that, and so the manly freedom  
That you so much profess, hereafter prove not  
A bold and glorious licence to deprave:  
To me his hand shall prove the Hermean rod  
His grace affects, in which submissive sign  
On this his sacred right hand, I lay mine.  Buss. 
'tis well my Lord, and so your worthy greatness  
Engender not the greater insolence,  
Nor make you think it a Prerogative,  
To rack men's freedoms with the ruder wrongs;  
My hand (stuck full of laurel, in true sign  
'tis wholly dedicate to righteous peace)  
In all submission kisseth th'other side.  Hen. 
Thanks to ye both: and kindly I invite ye  
Both to a banquet where we'll sacrifice  
Full cups to confirmation of yours loves;  
At which (fair Ladies) I entreat your presence. Exeunt Henry, D'Amb. Ely. Ta.  Mons. 
What had my bounty drunk when it raised him?  Gui. 
Y'ave stuck us up a very proper flag  
That takes more wind than we with all our sails.  Mons. 
O so he spreads and flourishes.  Gui. 
He must down,  
Upstarts should never perch too near a crown.  Mons. 
'tis true my Lord; and as this doting hand,  
Even out of earth, (like juno) struck this giant,  
So jove's great ordinance shallbe here implied  
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 gadding greatness.  
I think it best, amongst our greatest women:  
For there is no such trap to catch an upstart  
As a loose downfall; and indeed their falls  
Are th'ends of all men's rising: if great men  
And wise; make scapes to please advantage  
'tis with a woman: women that worst may  
Still hold men's candles: they direct and know  
All things amiss in all men; and their women  
All things amiss in them: through whose charmed mouths  
We may see all the close scapes of the Court:  
When the most royal beast of chase (being old,  
And cunning in his choice of lairs and haunts)  
Can never be discovered to the bow  
The piece or hound: yet where his custom is  
To beat his vault, and he ruts with his hind,  
The place is marked, and by his Venery  
He still is taken. Shall we then attempt  
The chiefest mean to that discovery here,  
And court our greatest lady's greatest women,  
With shows of love, and liberal promises?  
'tis but our breath. If something given in hand,  
Sharpen their hopes of more; twill be well ventured.  Gui. 
No doubt of that: and 'tis an excellent point  
Of our devised investigation.  Mons. 
I have already broke the ice, my Lord,  
With the most trusted woman of your Countess,  
And hope I shall wade through to our discovery,  Mont. 
Take say of her my Lord, she comes most fitly  
And we will to the other.  Enter Charlot, Anable, Pero. Gui. 
You're engaged.  An. 
Nay pray my Lord forbear.  Mont. 
What skittish, servant?  An. 
No my Lord I am not so fit for your service:  Char. 
Pray pardon me now my Lord? my Lady expects me.  Gui. 
I'll satisfy her expectation, as far as an uncle may.  Mons. 
Well said: a spir't of Courtship of all hands:  
Now mine own Pero: hast thou remembered me  
For the discovery I entreated thee to make concerning  
Thy Mistress? speak boldly, and be sure of all things I have promised.  Pero. 
Building on that you have sworn (my Lord) I may speak: and much the rather, because my 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 it be not to one that will betray thee: forth I beseech thee.  Per. 
To tell you truth, my Lord, I have made a strange discovery.  Mons. 
Excellent Pero thou revivest me: may I sink quick into earth here, if my tongue discover it.  Per. 
'tis thus then: This last night my Lord lay forth: and I wondering my Ladies sitting up, stole at midnight from my palate: and (having before made a hole both through the wall and arras to her inmost chamber) I saw D'Ambois and she set close at a banquet.  Mons. 
D'Ambois?  Per. 
even he my Lord.  Mons. 
Dost thou not dream wench?  Per. 
No my Lord, he is the man.  Mons. 
The devil he is, and thy Lady his dam: infinite regions betwixt a woman's tongue and her heart: is this our Goddess of chastity? I thought I could not be so slighted: if she had not her freight beside: and therefore plotted this with her woman: dear Pero I will advance thee for ever: but tell me now: God's precious it transforms me with admiration: sweet Pero, whom should she trust with his conveyance? Or, all the doors being made sure, how could his conveyance be performed?  Per. 
Nay my Lord, that amazes me: I cannot by any study so much as guess at it.  Mons. 
Well, let's favour our apprehensions with forbearing that a little: for if my heart were not hooped with adamant, the conceit of this would have burst it: but hark thee.  Char. 
I swear to your Grace, all that I can conjecture touching my Lady your Niece, is a strong affection she bears to the English Mylor.  Gui. 
All quoth you? 'tis enough I assure you, but tell me.  Mont. 
I pray thee resolve me: the Duke will never imagine that I am busy about's wife: hath D'Ambois any privy access to her?  An. 
No my Lord, D'Ambois neglects her (as she takes it) and is therefore suspicious that either your Lady, or the Countess Beaupre hath closely entertained him.  Mont. 
by'r lady a likely suspicion, and very near the life, if she marks it; especially of my wife.  Mons. 
Come we'll put off all, with seeming only to have courted; away dry palm: sh'as a liver as hard as a biscuit: a man may go a whole voyage with her, and get nothing but tempests at her windpipe.  Gui. 
here's one: (I think) has swallowed a porcupine, she casts pricks from her tongue so.  Mont. 
And here's a peacock seems to have devoured one of the Alps, she has so swelling a spirit, and is so cold of her kindness.  Char. 
We be no windfalls my Lord; ye must gather us with the ladder of matrimony, or we'll hang till we be rotten.  Mons. 
Indeed that's the way to make ye right opens. 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.  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 find it out: but let's hear it.  Per. 
You shall my Lord.  
What's that, that being most rare's most cheap?  
That if you sow, you never reap?  
That when it grows most, most you in it?  
And still you lose it when you win it:  
That when 'tis commonest, 'tis dearest,  
And when 'tis farthest off 'tis nearest?  Mons. 
Is this your portion?  Per. 
even this my Lord.  Mons. 
Believe me I cannot riddle it.  Per. 
No my Lord, 'tis my chastity, which you shall neither riddle nor fiddle.  Mons. 
Your chastity? let me begin with the end of you; how is a woman's chastity nearest a man, when 'tis furthest off?  Per. 
Why my Lord, when you cannot get it, it goes toth' heart on you; and that I think comes most near you: and I am sure it shall be far enough off; and so I leave you to my mercy. Exit.  Mons. 
Farewell riddle.  Gui. 
Farewell Medlar.  Mont. 
Farewell winter plum.  Mons. 
Now my Lords, what fruit of our inquisition? feel you nothing budding yet? Speak good my Lord Montsurry.  Mont. 
Nothing but this: D'Ambois is negligent in observing the Duchess, and therefore she is suspicious that your Niece or my wife closely entertains him.  Mons. 
Your wife, my Lord? Think you that possible?  Mont. 
Alas, I know she flies him like her last hour.  Mons. 
Her last hour? why that comes upon her the more she flies it: Does D'Ambois so think you?  Mont. 
That's not worth the answering: 'tis horrible to think with what monsters women's imaginations engross them when they are once enamoured, and what wonders they will work for their satisfaction. They will make a sheep valiant, a Lion fearful.  Mons. 
And an Ass confident, my Lord, 'tis true, and more  
will come forth shortly, get you to the banquet. Exit Guise cum Mont.  
O the unfounded Sea of women's bloods,  
That when 'tis calmest, is most dangerous;  
Not any wrinkle creaming in their faces,  
When in their hearts are Scylla and Charybdis,  
Which still are hid in monster-formed clouds,  
Where never day shines, nothing ever grows,  
But weeds and poisons, that no statesman knows;  
Not Cerberus ever saw the damned nooks  
Hid with the veils of women's virtuous looks:  
I will conceal all yet, and give more time  
To D'Ambois trial, now upon my hook;  
He awes my throat; else like Sibylla's Cave  
It should breathe oracles; I fear him strangely,  
And may resemble his advanced valour  
Unto a spirit raised without a circle,  
Endangering him that ignorantly raised him,  
And for whose fury he hath learned no limit.  Enter D'Ambois. Mons. 
How now, what leapest thou at?  D'Amb. 
O royal object.  Mons. 
Thou dreamest awake: Object in th'empty air?  D'Amb. 
Worthy the head of Titan, worth his chair.  Mons. 
Pray thee what mean'st thou?  D'Amb. 
See you not a Crown  
Impale the forehead of the great King Monsieur?  Mons. 
O fie upon thee.  D'Amb. 
Sir, that is the Subject  
Of all these your retired and sole discourses.  Mons. 
Wilt thou not leave that wrongful supposition?  
This still hath made me doubt thou dost not love me.  
Wilt thou do one thing for me then sincerely?  D'Amb. 
ay, any thing, but killing of the King.  Mons. 
Still in that discord, and ill taken note?  D'Amb. 
Come, do not doubt me, and command me all things.  Mons. 
I will not then, and now by all my love  
Shown to thy virtues, and by all fruits else  
Already sprung from that affection,  
I charge thee utter (even with all the freedom  
Both of thy noble nature and thy friendship)  
The full and plain state of me in thy thoughts.  D'Amb. 
What, utter plainly what I think of you?  
Why this swims quite against the stream of greatness:  
Great men would rather hear their flatteries,  
And if they be not made fools, are not wise.  Mons. 
I am no such great fool, and therefore charge thee  
Even from the root of thy free heart, display me.  D'Amb. 
Since you affect it in such serious terms,  
If yourself first will tell me what you think  
As freely and as heartily of me,  
I'll be as open in my thoughts of you.  Mons. 
A bargain of mine honour; and make this,  
That prove we in our full dissection  
Never so foul, live still the sounder friends.  D'Amb. 
What else Sir? come begin, and speak me simply.  Mons. 
I will I swear. I think thee then a man,  
That dares as much as a wild horse or Tiger;  
As headstrong and as bloody; and to feed  
The ravenous wolf of thy most Cannibal valour,  
(Rather than not employ it) thou wouldst turn  
Hackster to any whore, slave to a jew,  
Or English usurer, to force possessions,  
And cut men's throats of mortgaged estates;  
Or thou wouldst tire thee like a tinker's wife,  
And murder market folks, quarrel with sheep,  
And run as mad as Ajax; serve a Butcher,  
Do any thing but killing of the King:  
That in thy valour thouart like other naturals,  
That have strange gifts in nature, but no soul  
Diffused quite through, to make them of a piece,  
But stop at humours, that are more absurd,  
Childish and villainous than that hackster, whore,  
Slave, cutthroat, tinker's bitch, compared before:  
And in those humours wouldst envy, betray,  
Slander, blaspheme, change each hour a religion;  
Do any thing, but killing of the King;  
That in that valour (which is still my dunghill,  
To which I carry all filth in thy house)  
thouart more ridiculous and vainglorious  
Than any mountebank; and impudent  
Than any painted bawd; which, not to soothe  
And glorify thee like a jupiter Hammon,  
Thou eatest thy heart in vinegar; and thy gall  
Turns all thy blood to poison, which is cause  
Of that toadpole that stands in thy complexion;  
And makes thee (with a cold and earthy moisture,  
Which is the dam of putrefaction,  
As plague to thy damned pride) rot as thou liv'st;  
To study calumnies and treacheries;  
To thy friends slaughters, like a screech-owl sing,  
And to all mischiefs, but to kill the King.  D'Amb. 
So: Have you said?  Mons. 
How thinkest thou? Do I flatter?  
Speak I not like a trusty friend to thee?  D'Amb. 
That ever any man was blessed withal;  
So here's for me. I think you are (at worst)  
No devil, since you're like to be no king;  
Of which, with any friend of yours I'll lay  
This poor stillado here, 'gainst all the stars,  
ay, and 'gainst all your treacheries, which are more;  
That you did never good, but to do ill;  
But ill of all sorts, free and for itself:  
That (like a murdering piece, making lanes in armies  
The first man of a rank, the whole rank falling)  
If you have once wronged one man, you're so far  
From making him amends, that all his race,  
Friends and associates fall into your chase:  
That you're for perjuries the very prince  
Of all intelligencers; and your voice  
Is like an Eastern wind, that where it flies,  
Knits nets of Caterpillars, with which you catch  
The prime of all the fruits the kingdom yields.  
That your political head is the cursed fount  
Of all the violence, rapine, cruelty,  
Tyranny & Atheism flowing through the realm.  
That you'ave a tongue so scandalous, 'twill cut  
A perfect Crystal; and a breath that will  
Kill to that wall a spider; you will jest  
With God, and your soul to the devil tender  
For lust; kiss horror, and with death engender.  
That your foul body is a Lernaean fen  
Of all the maladies breeding in all men.  
That you are utterly without a soul:  
And (for your life) the thread of that was spun,  
When Clotho slept, and let her breathing rock  
Fall in the dirt; and Lachesis still draws it,  
Dipping her twisting fingers in a bowl  
Defiled, and crowned with virtues forced soul.  
And lastly (which I must for Gratitude  
Ever remember) That of all my height  
And dearest life, you are the only spring,  
Only in royal hope to kill the king.  Mons. 
Why now I see thou lov'st me, come to the banquet.  
Finis Actus terty.   

Actus Quarti Scena Prima.  Henry, Monsieur, Guise, Montsurry, Bussy, Elynor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Anable, Pyrha, with four Pages. Henr. 
LAdies, ye have not done our banquet right,  
Nor looked upon it with those cheerful rays  
That lately turned your breaths to floods of gold;  
Your looks, methinks, are not drawn out with thoughts,  
So clear and free as heretofore, but fare  
As if the thick complexions of men  
Governed within them.  Buss. 
'tis not like my Lord  
That men in women rule; but contrary,  
For as the Moon (of all things God created)  
Not only is the most appropriate image  
Or glass to show them how they wax and wane,  
But in her light and motion, likewise bears  
Imperial influences that command  
In all their powers, and make them wax & wane;  
So women, that (of all things made of nothing)  
Are the most perfect images of the Moon  
(Or still-unweaned sweet Moon-calves with white faces)  
Not only are patterns of change to men:  
But as the tender Moonshine of their beauties  
Clears, or is cloudy, make men glad or sad.  Mons. 
But here the Moons are changed (as the King notes)  
And either men rule in them, or some power  
Beyond their voluntary motions:  
For nothing can recover their lost faces.  Buss. 
None can be always one: our griefs and joys  
Hold several sceptres in us, and have times  
For their predominance: which grief now, in them  
Doth claim, as proper to his diadem:  
And grief's a natural sickness of the blood,  
That time to part, asks as his coming had;  
Only sleight fools grieved, suddenly are glad;  
A man may say t'a dead man, be reviv'd,  
As well as to one sorrowful, be not grieved.  
And therefore (Princely mistress) in all wars  
Against these base foes that insult on weakness,  
And still fight housed, behind the shield of Nature,  
Of tyrannous law, treachery, or beastly need,  
Your servant cannot help; authority here  
Goes with corruption; something like some States,  
That back worst men: valour to them must creep  
That (to themselves left) would fear him asleep.  Ely. 
Ye all take that for granted, that doth rest  
Yet to be proved; we all are as we were  
As merry, and as free in thought as ever.  Gui. 
And why then can ye not disclose your thoughts?  Tamy. 
methinks the man hath answered for us well.  Mons. 
The man? why Madam d''ee not know his name?  Tamy. 
Man is a name of honour for a King:  
Additions take away from each chief thing:  
The School of Modesty, not to learn, learns Dames:  
They sit in high forms there, that know men's names.  Mons. 
Hark sweet heart, here's a bound set to your valour:  
It cannot enter here; no, not to notice  
Of what your name is; your great Eagles beak  
(Should you fly at her) had as good encounter  
An Albion cliff, as her more craggy liver.  Buc. 
I'll not attempt her Sir; her sight and name  
(By which I only know her) doth deter me.  Henr. 
So do they all men else.  Mons. 
You would say so  
If you knew all.  Tamy. 
Knew all my Lord? what mean you?  Mons. 
All that I know Madam.  Tamy. 
That you know? speak it.  Mons. 
No 'tis enough I feel it.  Henr. 
But methinks  
Her Courtship is more pure than heretofore:  
True Courtiers should be modest, but not nice:  
Bold, but not impudent: pleasure love, not vice.  Mons. 
Sweet heart: come hither, what if one should make  
Horns at Montsurry? would it strike him jealous  
Through all the proofs of his chaste lady's virtues?  Buc. 
No I think not.  Mons. 
Not if I named the man  
With whom I would make him suspicious  
His wife hath armed his forehead?  Buc. 
So, you might  
Have your great nose made less indeed: and slit:  
Your eyes thrust out.  Mons. 
Peace, peace, I pray thee peace.  
Who dares do that? the brother of his King?  Buc. 
Were your King brother in you: all your powers  
(Stretched in the arms of great men and their bawds)  
Set close down by you; all your stormy laws  
Spouted with lawyer's mouths; and gushing blood,  
Like to so many Torrents: all your glories:  
(Making you terrible, like enchanted flames  
Fed with bare coxcombs: and with crooked hams)  
All your prerogatives, your shames and tortures:  
All daring heaven, and opening hell about you:  
Were I the man, ye wronged so and provoked:  
(Though ne'er so much beneath you) like a box tree  
I would (out of the toughness of my root)  
Ram hardness, in my lowness, and like death  
Mounted on earthquakes, I would trot through all  
Honours and horrors: through foul and fair,  
And from your whole strength toss you into air.  Mons. 
Go, thouart a devil; such another spirit  
Could not be stilled, from all Th'Armenian dragons.  
O my loves glory: heir to all I have:  
That's all I can say, and that all I swear.  
If thou outlive me, as I know thou must,  
Or else hath nature no proportioned end  
To her great labours: she hath breathed a spirit  
Into thy entrails, of effect to swell  
Into another great Augustus Caesar:  
Organs, and faculties fitted to her greatness:  
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 calm  
Before a tempest, when the silent air  
Lays her soft ear close to the earth to hearken  
For that she fears is coming to afflict her;  
Some fate doth join our ears to hear it coming.  
Come, my brave eagle, let's to Covert fly:  
I see Almighty Aether in the smoke  
Of all his clouds descending: and the sky  
Hid in the dim ostents of Tragedy. Exit Hen. with D'Amb.  Guis. 
Now stir the humour, and begin the brawl.  Mont. 
The King and D'Ambois now are grown all one.  Mons. 
Nay, they are two my Lord.  Mont. 
How's that?  Mons. 
No more.  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 men's ensigns are not made with fingers:  
Of divine Fabric they are, Not men's hands;  
Your wife, you know, is a Mere Cynthia,  
And she must fashion horns 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'll use  
The learning of a noble man, and read  
here's something to those points: soft you must pawn  
Your honour having read it to return it.  Mont. 
Not I, I pawn mine Honour, for a paper?  Mons. 
You must not buy it under. Ent. Tamy. Pero.  Mont. 
Keep it then!  
And keep fire in your bosom.  Tam. 
What says he?  Mont. 
You must make good the rest.  Tam. 
How fares my Lord?  
Takes my Love any thing to heart he says?  Mont. 
Come you're a.  Tam. 
What my Lord?  Mont. 
The plague of Herod  
Feast in his rotten entrails.  Tam. 
Will you wreak  
Your angers just cause given by him, on me?  Mont. 
By him?  Tamy. 
By him my Lord, I have admired  
You could all this time be at concord with him,  
That still hath played 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,  
Till my head be the miracle of the world.  Tam. 
O woe is me.  Pero. 
What does your Lordship mean?  
Madam, be comforted; my Lord but tries you.  
Madam? Help good my Lord, are you not moved?  
Do your set looks print in your words, your thoughts?  
Sweet Lord, clear up those eyes, for shame of Noblesse:  
Merciless creature; but it is enough,  
You have shot home, your words are in her heart;  
She has not lived to bear a trial now.  Mont. 
Look up my love, and by this kiss receive  
My soul amongst thy spirits for supply  
To thine, chased with my fury.  Tam. 
O my Lord,  
I have too long lived to hear this from you.  Mont. 
'twas from my troubled blood, and not from me:  
I know not how I fare; a sudden night  
Flows through my entrails, and a headlong Chaos  
Murmurs within me, which I must digest;  
And not drown her in my confusions,  
That was my lives joy, being best informed:  
Sweet, you must needs forgive me, that my love  
(Like to a fire disdaining his suppression)  
Raged being discouraged; my whole heart is wounded  
When any least thought in you is but touched,  
And shall be till I know your former merits:  
Your name and memory altogether crave  
In loathed oblivion their eternal grave;  
And than you must hear from me, there's no mean  
In any passion I shall feel for you:  
Love is a razor cleansing being well used,  
But fetcheth blood still being the least abused:  
To tell you briefly all; The man that left me  
When you appeared, did turn me worse than woman,  
And stabbed me to the heart thus, with his hand.  Tamy. 
O happy woman! Comes my stain from him?  
It is my beauty, and that innocence proves,  
That slew chimera, rescued Peleus  
From all the savage beasts in Peleon;  
And raised the chaste Athenian prince from Hell:  
All suffering with me; they for women's lusts,  
I for a man's; that the Egean stable  
Of his foul sin would empty in my lap:  
How his guilt shunned me? sacred innocence  
That where thou fear'st, art dreadful; and his face  
Turned in flight from thee, that had thee in chase:  
Come, bring me to him: I will tell the serpent  
Even to his teeth (whence, in mine honours soil,  
'a pitched field starts up twixt my Lord and me)  
That his throat lies, and he shall curse his fingers,  
For being so governed by his filthy soul.  Mont. 
I know not, if himself will vaunt t'have been  
The princely author of the slavish sin,  
Or any other; he would have resolved me,  
Had you not come; not by his word, but writing,  
Would I have sworn to give it him again,  
And pawned mine honour to him for a paper.  Tam. 
See how he flies me still: 'tis a foul heart  
That fears his own hand: Good my Lord make haste  
To see the dangerous paper: Be not nice  
For any trifle, jeweled with your honour,  
To pawn your honour; and with it confer  
My nearest woman here, in all she knows;  
Who (if the sun or Cerberus could have seen  
Any stain in me) might as much as they:  
And Pero, here I charge thee by my love,  
And all proofs of it, (which I might call bounties)  
By all that thou hast seem seem good in me,  
And all the ill which thou shouldst spit from thee,  
By pity of the wound, my Lord hath given me,  
Not as thy Mistress now, but a poor woman  
(To death given over:) rid me of my pains,  
power on thy powder: clear thy breast of me:  
My Lord is only here: here speak thy worst,  
Thy best will do me mischief; If thou sparest me,  
Never shine good thought on thy memory:  
Resolve my Lord, and leave me desperate.  Pero. 
My Lord? My Lord hath played a prodigals part,  
To break his Stock for nothing; and an insolent,  
To cut a Gordian when he could not lose it:  
What violence is this, to put true fire  
To a false train? To blow up long crowned peace  
With sudden outrage? and believe a man  
Sworn to the shame of women, 'gainst a woman,  
Borne to their honours: I'll attend your Lordship.  Tam. 
No, I will write (for I shall never more  
Speak with the fugitive) where I will defy him,  
Were he ten times the brother of my king. Exeunt.  Music: and she enters with her maid, bearing a letter. Tam. 
Away, deliver it: O may my lines  
(Filled with the poison of a woman's hate  
When he shall open them) shrink up his eyes  
With torturous darkness, such as stands in hell,  
Stuck full of inward horrors, never lighted;  
With which are all things to be feared, affrighted;  
Father?  Ascendit Bussy with Comolet. D' Amb. 
How is it with my honoured mistress?  Tam. 
O servant help, and save me from the gripes  
Of shame and infamy.  D' Amb. 
What insensate stock,  
Or rude inanimate vapour without fashion,  
Durst take into his Epimethean breast  
A box of such plagues as the danger yields,  
incurred in this discovery? He had better  
Ventured his breast in the consuming reach  
Of the hot surfeits cast out of the clouds,  
Or stood the bullets that (to wreak the sky)  
The Cyclops ram in jove's artillery.  Com. 
we soon will take the darkness from his face  
That did that deed of darkness; we will know  
What now the Monsieur and your husband do;  
What is contained within the secret paper  
Offered by Monsieur, and your loves events:  
To which ends (honoured daughter) at your motion,  
I have put on these exorcizing Rites,  
And, by my power of learned holiness  
Vouchsafed me from above, I will command  
Our resolution of a raised spirit.  Tamy. 
Good father raise him in some beauteous form,  
That with least terror I may brook his sight.  Com. 
Stand sure together then, whate'er ye see,  
And stir not, as ye tender all our lives.  
Occidentalium legionum spiritalium imperator (magnus ille Behemoth) veni, veni, comitatus cum Asaroth locotenente invicto. Adiuro te per stygis inscrutabilia arcana, per ipsos irremeabiles anfractus averni: adesto o Behemoth, tu cvi pervia sunt Magnatum scrinia; veni, per Noctis & tenebrarum abdita profundissima; 
Thunder.  per labentia sydera; per ipsos motus horarum furtivos, Hecatesque altum silentium: Appare in forma spiritali, lucente splendida & amabili. Ascendit.  Beh. 
What would the holy Friar?  Com. 
I would see  
What now the Monsieur and Montsurry do;  
And see the secret paper that the Monsieur  
Offered to Count Montsurry, longing much  
To know on what events the secret loves  
Of these two honoured persons shall arrive.  Beh. 
Why called'st thou me to this accursed light?  
To these light purposes? I am Emperor  
Of that inscrutable darkness, where are hid  
All deepest truths, and secrets never seen,  
All which I know, and command Legions  
Of knowing spirits that can do more than these.  
Any of this my guard that circle me  
In these blue fires, and out of whose dim fumes  
Vast murmurs use to break, and from their sounds  
Articulate voices; can do ten parts more  
Than open such sleight truths, as you require.  Com. 
From the last nights black depth, I called up one  
Of the inferior ablest ministers,  
And he could not resolve me; send one then  
Out of thine own command, to fetch the paper  
That Monsieur hath to show to Count Montsurry.  Beh. 
I will: Cartophylax: thou that properly  
Hast in thy power all papers so inscribed:  
Glide through all bars to it and fetch that paper.  Car. 
I will. a torch removes.  Com. 
Till he returns (great prince of darkness)  
Tell me, if Monsieur and the Count Montsurry  
Are yet encountered.  Beh. 
Both them and the Guise  
Are now together.  Com. 
Show us all their persons,  
And represent the place, with all their actions.  Beh. 
The spirit will straight return: and then I'll show thee:  
See he is come; why brought'st thou not the paper?  Cart. 
He hath prevented me, and got a spirit  
Raised by another, great in our command  
To take the guard of it before I came.  Beh. 
This is your slackness, not t'invoke our powers  
When first your acts, set forth to their effects;  
Yet shall you see it, and themselves: behold  
They come here & the Earl now holds the paper. Ent. Mons. Gui. Mont.  Bus. 
May we not hear them?  Mons. 
No, be still and see.  Bus. 
I will go fetch the paper.  Com. 
Do not stir:  
there's too much distance and too many locks  
Twixt you & them: (how near so ere they seem)  
For any man to interrupt their secrets.  Tam. 
O honoured spirit: fly into the fancy  
Of my offended Lord: and do not let him  
Believe what there the wicked man hath written.  Pre. 
Persuasion hath already entered him  
Beyond reflection; peace till their departure.  Mons. 
There is a glass of ink wherein you see  
How to make ready black faced Tragedy:  
You now discern, I hope through all her paintings  
Her gasping wrinkles, and fames sepulchres.  Gui. 
Think you he feigns my Lord? what hold you now?  
Do we malign your wife: or honour you?  Mons. 
What stricken dumb? nay fie, Lord be not daunted:  
Your case is common: were it ne'er so rare  
Bear it as rarely: now to laugh were manly:  
A worthy man should imitate the weather  
That sings in tempests: and being clear is silent.  Gui. 
Go home my Lord, and force your wife to write  
Such loving stuff to D'Ambois as she used  
When she desired his presence.  Mons. 
Do my Lord,  
And make her name her concealed messenger:  
That close and most inennerable Pander  
That passeth all our studies to exquire:  
By whom convey the letter to her love:  
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 armed: and let them share  
A spirit amongst them, that would serve a thousand.  Gui. 
Yet stay a little: see she sends for you.  Mons. 
Poor, loving lady, she'll make all good yet,  
Think you not so my Lord?  Gui. 
alas poor soul.  Mons. 
This was ill done i'faith. Exit Mont.  Per. 
'twas nobly done.  
And I forgive his Lordship from my soul.  Mons. 
Then much good do't thee Pero: hast a letter?  Per. 
I hope it be, at least, if not a volume  
Of worthy curses for your perjury.  Mons. 
Now out upon her.  Gui. 
Let me see my Lord.  Mons. 
You shall presently: how fares my Pero?  
whose's there? take in this maid sh'as caught a clap:  
And fetch my surgeon to her; come my Lord,  
We'll now peruse our letter. Exeunt Mons. Guise.  Per. 
Furies rise Lead her out.  
Out of the black lines, and torment his soul.  Tam. 
Hath my Lord slain my woman?  Beh. 
No, she lives.  Com. 
What shall become of us?  Beh. 
All I can say  
Being called thus late, is brief, and darkly this:  
If D'Ambois mistress, stay not her white hand  
With his forced blood he shall remain untouched:  
So father, shall yourself, but by yourself:  
To make this Augury plainer: when the voice  
Of D'Ambois shall invoke me I will rise,  
Shining in greater light: and show him all  
That will betide ye all; mean time be wise,  
And let him curb his rage, with policy. Descendit cum suis:  Buc. 
Will he appear to me, when I invoke him?  Com. 
He will: be sure.  Buc. 
It must be shortly then:  
For his dark words have tied my thoughts on knots  
Till he dissolve, and free them.  Tam. 
In mean time  
Dear servant, till your powerful voice revoke him,  
Be sure to use the policy he advised:  
Lest fury in your too quick knowledge taken  
Of our abuse, and your defence of me  
Accuse me more than any enemy:  
And Father, you must on my Lord impose  
Your holiest charges, and the church's power  
To temper his hot spirit: and disperse  
The cruelty and the blood, I know his hand  
Will shower upon our heads, if you put not  
Your finger to the storm, and hold it up,  
As my dear servant here must do with Monsieur.  Bus. 
I'll soothe his plots: and strew my hate with smiles  
Till all at once the close mines of my heart  
Rise at full date, and rush into his blood:  
I'll bind his arm in silk, and rub his flesh,  
To make the vain swell, that his soul may gush  
Into some kennel, where it longs to lie,  
And policy shallbe flanked with policy.  
Yet shall the feeling centre where we meet  
Groan with the wait of my approaching feet:  
I'll make th'inspired thresholds of his Court  
Sweat with the weather of my horrid steps  
Before I enter: yet will I appear  
Like calm security, before a ruin;  
A politician, must like lightning melt  
The very marrow, and not Print the skin:  
His ways must not be seen: the superficies  
Of the green centre must not taste his feet:  
When hell is ploughed up with his wounding tracts:  
And all his harvest reaped, from hellish facts.  
Finis Actus Quarti.   

Actus Quinti Scena Prima.  Montsurry bore, unbraced, pulling Tamyra in, Comolet, One bearing light, a standish and paper, which sets a Table. Com. 
MY Lord remember that your soul must seek  
Her peace, as well as your revengeful blood:  
You ever, to this hour have proved yourself  
A noble, zealous, and obedient son,  
T'our holy mother: be not an apostate:  
Your wives offence serves not, (were it the worst  
You can imagine, without greater proofs)  
To sever your eternal bonds, and hearts;  
Much less to touch her with a bloody hand:  
Nor is it manly (much less husbandly)  
To expiate any frailty in your wife,  
With churlish strokes, or beastly odds of strength:  
The stony birth of clouds, will touch no laurel:  
Nor any sleeper; your wife is your laurel:  
And sweetest sleeper; do not touch her then  
Be not more rude than the wild seed of vapour,  
To her that is more gentle than it rude;  
In whom kind nature suffered one offence  
But to set of, her other excellence.  Mont. 
Good father leave us: interrupt no more  
The course I must run for mine honour's sake.  
Rely on my love to her, which her fault  
Cannot extinguish; will she but disclose  
Who was the hateful minister of her love,  
And through what maze he served it, we are friends.  Com. 
It is a damned work to pursue those secrets,  
That would ope more sin, and prove springs of slaughter;  
Nor is't a path for Christian feet to touch;  
But out of all way to the health of souls,  
A sin impossible to be forgiven:  
Which he that dares commit;  Mont. 
Good father cease:  
Tempt not a man distracted; I am apt  
To outrages that I shall ever rue:  
I will not pass the verge that bounds a Christian,  
Nor break the limits of a man nor husband.  Com. 
Then God inspire ye both with thoughts and deeds  
Worthy his high respect, and your own souls. Exit Com.  Mont. 
Who shall remove the mountain from my heart,  
open the seventimes-heat furnace of my thoughts,  
And set fit outcries for a soul in hell? Mont. turns a key.  
O now it nothing fits my cares to speak,  
But thunder, or to take into my throat  
The trump of Heaven; with whose determinate blasts  
The winds shall burst, and the enraged seas  
Be drunk up in his sounds; that my hot woes  
(Vented enough) I might convert to vapour,  
Ascending from my infamy unseen;  
Shorten the world, preventing the last breath  
That kills the living, and regenerates death.  Tamy. 
My Lord, my fault (as you may censure it  
With too strong arguments) is past your pardon:  
But how the circumstances may excuse me  
God knows, and your more temperate mind hereafter  
May let my penitent miseries make you know.  Mont. 
Hereafter? 'tis a supposed infinite,  
That from this point will rise eternally:  
Fame grows in going; in the scapes of virtue  
Excuses damn her: They be fires in Cities  
Enraged with those winds that less lights extinguish.  
Come Siren, sing, and dash against my rocks  
Thy ruffian Galley, laden for thy lust:  
Sing, and put all the nets into thy voice,  
With which thou drewest into thy strumpet's lap  
The spawn of Venus; and in which ye danced;  
That, in thy laps steed, I may dig his tomb,  
And quit his manhood with a woman's sleight,  
Who never is deceived in her deceit.  
Sing, (that is, write) and then take from mine eyes  
The mists that hide the most inscrutable Pandar  
That ever leapt up an adulterous vomit:  
That I may see the devil, and survive  
To be a devil, and then learn to wive:  
That I may hang him, and then cut him down,  
Then cut him up, and with my soul's beams search  
The cranks and caverns of his brain, and study  
The errant wilderness of a woman's face;  
Where men cannot get out, for all the Comets  
That have been lighted at it; though they know  
That Adders lie a sunning in their smiles,  
That Basilisks drink their poison from their eyes,  
And no way there to coast out to their hearts;  
Yet still they wander there, and are not staid  
Till they be fettered, nor secure before  
All cares distract them; nor in human state  
Till they embrace within their wives two breasts  
All Pelion and Cithaeron with their beasts.  
Why write you not?  Tam. 
O good my Lord forbear  
In wreak of great sins, to engender greater,  
And make my loves corruption generate murder.  Mont. 
It follows needfully as child and parent;  
The chain-shot of thy lust is yet aloft,  
And it must murder; 'tis thine own dear twin:  
No man can add height to a woman's sin.  
Vice never doth her just hate so provoke,  
As when she rageth under virtues cloak.  
Write: For it must be; by this ruthless steel,  
By this impartial torture, and the death  
Thy tyrannies have invented in my entrails,  
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 enjoin my sin  
Some other penance than what makes it worse:  
Hide in some gloomy dungeon my loathed face,  
And let condemned murderers let me down  
(Stopping their noses) my abhorred food.  
Hang me in chains, and let me eat these arms  
That have offended: Bind me face to face  
To some dead woman, taken from the Cart  
Of Execution, till death and time  
In grains of dust dissolve me; I'll endure:  
Or any torture that your wrath's invention  
Can fright all pity from the world withal:  
But to betray a friend with show of friendship,  
That is too common, for the rare revenge  
Your rage affecteth; here then are my breasts,  
Last night your pillows; here my wretched arms,  
As late the wished confines of your life:  
Now break them as you please, and all the bounds  
Of manhood, noblesse, and religion.  Mont. 
Where all these have been broken, they are kept,  
In doing their justice there: Thine arms have lost  
Their privilege in lust, and in their torture  
Thus they must pay it.  Tam. 
O Lord.  Mont. 
Till thou writ'st  
I'll write in wounds (my wrongs fit characters)  
Thy right of sufferance. Write.  Tam. 
O kill me, kill me:  
Dear husband be not crueler than death;  
You have beheld some Gorgon: Feel, o feel  
How you are turned to stone; with my heart blood  
Dissolve yourself again, or you will grow  
Into the image of all Tyranny.  Mont. 
As thou art of adultery, I will still  
Prove thee my like in ill, being most a monster:  
Thus I express thee yet.  Tam. 
And yet I live.  Mont. 
ay, for thy monstrous idol is not done yet:  
This tool hath wrought enough: now Torture use  
This other engine on th'habituate powers  
Of her thrice damned and whorish fortitude.  
Use the most madding pains in her that ever  
Thy venoms soaked through, making most of death;  
That she may weigh her wrongs with them, and then  
Stand vengeance on thy steepest rock, a victor.  Tamy. 
O who is turned into my Lord and husband?  
Husband? My Lord? None but my Lord and husband.  
Heaven, I ask thee remission of my sins,  
Not of my pains: husband, o help me husband.  Com. 

Ascendit Comolet.  What rape of honour and religion?  
O wrack of nature.  Tam. 
Poor man: o my father,  
Father? look up; o let me down my Lord,  
And I will write.  Mont. 
Author of prodigies!  
What new flame breaks out of the firmament,  
That turns up counsels never known before?  
Now is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still;  
Even Heaven itself must see and suffer ill:  
The too huge bias of the world hath swayed  
Her backpart upwards, and with that she braves  
This Hemisphere, that long her mouth hath mocked:  
The gravity of her religious face:  
(Now grown too weighty with her sacrilege  
And here discerned sophisticate enough)  
Turns to th'Antipodes: and all the forms  
That her illusions have impressed in her,  
Have eaten through her back: and now all see,  
How she is riveted with hypocrisy:  
Was this the way? was he the mean betwixt you?  Tam. 
He was, he was, kind innocent man he was.  Mont. 
Write, write a word or two.  Tamy. 
I will, I will.  
I'll write, but in my blood that he may see,  
These lines come from my wounds and not from me.  Mont. 
Well might he die for thought: methinks the frame  
And shaken joints of the whole world should crack  
To see her parts so disproportionate;  
And that his general beauty cannot stand  
Without these stains in the particular man.  
Why wander I so far? here here was she  
That was a whole world without spot to me:  
Though now a world of spots; oh what a lightning  
Is man's delight in women? what a bubble,  
He builds his state, fame, life on, when he marries?  
Since all earth's pleasures are so short and small,  
The way t'enjoy it, is t'abjure it all:  
Enough: I must be messenger myself,  
Disguised like this strange creature: in, I'll after,  
To see what guilty light gives this cave eyes,  
And to the world sing new impieties.  D' Ambois with two Pages. D' Amb. 
Sit up tonight, and watch, I'll speak with none  
But the old friar, who bring to me.  Pa. 
We will Sir. Exit.  D' Amb. 
What violent heat is this? methinks the fire  
Of twenty lives doth on a sudden flash  
Through all my faculties: the air goes high  
In this close chamber, and the frighted earth!  
Trembles, and shrinks beneath me: the whole house  
Cracks with his shaken burden; bless me, heaven.  Enter Vmb. Comol. Vmb. 
Note what I want, my son, and be forewarned:  
O there are bloody deeds passed and to come,  
I cannot stay: a fate doth ravish me:  
I'll meet thee in the chamber of thy love. Exit.  D' Amb. 
What dismal change is here? the good old Friar  
Is murdered; being made known to serve my love;  
Note what he wants? he wants his utmost weed,  
He wants his life, and body: which of these  
Should be the want he means, and may supply me  
With any fit forewarning? this strange vision,  
(Together with the dark prediction  
Used by the Prince of darkness that was raised  
By this embodied shadow) stir my thoughts  
With reminiscion of the Spirits promise;  
Who told me, that by any invocation  
I should have power to raise him; though it wanted  
The powerful words, and decent rites of art;  
Never had my set brain such need of spirit,  
T'instruct and cheer it; now then, I will claim,  
Performance of his free and gentle vow,  
T'appear in greater light; and make more plain,  
His rugged oracle: I long to know  
How my dear mistress fares; and be informed  
What hand she now holds on the troubled blood  
Of her incensed Lord: methought the Spirit,  
(When he had uttered his perplexed presage)  
Threw his changed countenance headlong into clouds;  
His forehead bent, as it would hide his face;  
He knocked his chin against his darkened breast,  
And struck a churlish silence through his powers;  
Terror of darkness: O thou King of flames,  
That with thy music-footed horse dost strike  
The clear light out of crystal, on dark earth;  
And hurlest instructive fire about the world:  
Wake, wake, the drowsy and enchanted night;  
That sleeps with dead eyes in this heavy riddle:  
Or thou great Prince of shades where never sun  
Sticks his far-darted beams: whose eyes are made,  
To see in darkness: and see ever best  
Where sense is blindest: open now the heart  
Of thy abashed oracle: that for fear,  
Of some ill it includes, would fain lie hid,  
And rise thou with it in thy greater light.  Surgit Spiritus cum suis. Sp. 
Thus to observe my vow of apparition,  
In greater light: and explicate thy fate:  
I come; and tell thee that if thou obey  
The summons that thy mistress next will send thee,  
Her hand shallbe thy death.  D' Amb. 
When will she send?  Sp. 
Soon as I set again, where late I rose.  D' Amb. 
Is the old Friar slain?  Sp. 
No, and yet lives not.  D' Amb. 
Died he a natural death?  Sp. 
He did.  D' Amb. 
Who then,  
Will my dear mistress send?  Sp. 
I must not tell thee.  D' Amb. 
Who lets thee?  Sp. 
Fate.  D' Am. 
Who are fates ministers?  Sp. 
The Guise and Monsieur.  D' Amb. 
A fit pair of shears  
To cut the threads of kings, and kingly spirits,  
And consorts fit to sound forth harmony,  
Set to the falls of kingdoms: shall the hand  
Of my kind Mistress kill me?  Sp. 
If thou yield,  
To her next summons, you're fair warned: farewell. Exit.  D' Amb. 
I must fare well, however: though I die  
My death consenting with his augury;  
Should not my powers obey, when she commands  
My motion must be rebel to my will:  
My will: to life, If when I have obeyed,  
Her hand should so reward me: they must arm it,  
Bind me and force it: or I lay my soul  
She rather would convert it, many times  
On her own bosom: even to many deaths:  
But were there danger of such violence,  
I know 'tis far from her intent to send:  
And who she should send, is as far from thought  
Since he is dead, whose only mean she used  
whose's there? look to the door: and let him in,  
Though politic Monsieur, or the violent Guise.  Enter Montsurry like the Friar. Mont. 
Hail to my worthy son.  D'Amb. 
O lying Spirit: welcome loved father  
How fares my dearest mistress?  Mont. 
Well, as ever  
Being well as ever thought on by her Lord:  
Whereof she sends this witness in her hand  
And prays, for urgent cause, your speediest presence.  D'Amb. 
What? writ in blood?  Mont. 
ay, 'tis the ink of lovers.  D'Amb. 
O 'tis a sacred witness of her love.  
So much elixir of her blood as this  
Dropped in the lightest dame, would make her firm  
As heat to fire: and like to all the signs,  
Commands the life confined in all my veins;  
O how it multiplies my blood with spirit,  
And makes me apt t'encounter death and hell:  
But, come kind Father; you fetch me to heaven,  
And to that end your holy weed was given. Exit.  Enter Monsieur, Guise above. Mons. 
Now shall we see, that nature hath no end,  
In her great works, responsive to their worths,  
That she who makes so many eyes, and souls,  
To see and foresee, is stark blind herself:  
And as illiterate men say Latin prayers  
By root of heart, and daily iteration;  
In whose hot zeal, a man would think they knew  
What they ran so away with, and were sure  
To have rewards proportioned to their labours;  
Yet may implore their own confusions  
For any thing they know, which oftentimes  
It falls out they incur: So nature lays  
A mass of stuff together, and by use,  
Or by the mere necessity of matter,  
Ends such a work, fills it, or leaves it empty,  
Of strength, or virtue, error or clear truth;  
Not knowing what she does; but usually  
Gives that which we call merit to a man,  
And believe should arrive him on huge riches,  
Honour, and happiness, that effects his ruin;  
Right as in ships of war, whole lasts of powder  
Are laid (men think) to make them last, and guard them;  
When a disordered spark that powder taking,  
Blows up with sudden violence and horror  
Ships that kept empty, had sailed long with terror.  Gui. 
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 decorum she may make  
A thing that from the feet up to the throat  
Hath all the wondrous fabric man should have,  
And leave it headless for an absolute man,  
As give a whole man valour, virtue, learning,  
Without an end more excellent than those,  
On whom she no such worthy part bestows.  Mons. 
Why you shall see it here, here will be one  
Young, learned, valiant, virtuous, and full manned;  
One on whom Nature spent so rich a hand,  
That, with an ominous eye, she wept to see  
So much consumed her virtuous treasury;  
Yet, as the winds sing through a hollow tree,  
And (since it lets them pass through) let it stand  
But a tree solid, since it gives no way  
To their wild rages, they rend up by th' root:  
So this full creature now shall reel and fall,  
Before the frantic puffs of purblind chance  
That pipes thorough empty men, and makes them dance:  
Not so the Sea raves on the Lybian sands,  
Tumbling her billows in each others neck:  
Not so the surges of the euxine Sea  
(Near to the frosty Pole, where free Bootes  
From those dark-deep waves turns his radiant team)  
Swell being enraged, even from their inmost drop,  
As Fortune swings about the restless state  
Of virtue, now thrown into all men's hate.  Intrat umbra, Comolet to the Countess, wrapped in a canopy. 
Revive those stupid thoughts, and sit not thus,  
Gathering the horrors of your servants slaughter,  
(So urged by your hand, and so imminent)  
Into an idle fancy; but devise  
How to prevent it; watch when he shall rise,  
And with a sudden outcry of his murder,  
Blow his retreat before he be engaged.  Count. 
O father, have my dumb woes waked your death?  
When will our human griefs 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.  Vmb. 
'tis the just curse of our abused creation,  
Which we must suffer here, and scape hereafter:  
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 himself, will mend his maker.  D'Amb. at the gulf. Count. 
Away, (my love) away, thou wilt be murmured.  Buss. 
murmured? I know not what that Hebrew means:  
That word had ne'er been named had all been D'Ambois.  
murmured? By heaven he is my murderer  
That shows me not a murderer; what such bug  
Abhorreth not the very sleep of D'Ambois?  
murmured? Who dares give all the room I see  
To D'Ambois' reach? or look with any odds  
His fight i'th' face, upon whose hand sits death;  
Whose sword hath wings, and every feather pierceth?  
Let in my politic visitants, let them in,  
Though entering like so many moving armours,  
Fate is more strong than arms, and sly than treason,  
And I at all parts buckled in my Fate:  
Dare they not come?  Tam. 
They come.  1. 
Come all at once.  Vmb. 
Back coward murderers, back.  Omn. 
Defend us heaven. Exeunt.  1. 
Come ye not on?  Buss. 
No, slave, nor goest thou off.  
Stand you so firm? Will it not enter here?  
You have a face yet: so in thy life's flame  
I burn the first rites to my mistress fame.  Vmb. 
Breath thee brave son 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.  
'twas the Earl my husband in his weed that brought thee.  Buss. 
That was a speeding sleight, and well resembled.  
Where is that angry Earl my Lord? Come forth  
And show your own face in your own affair;  
Take not into your noble veins the blood  
Of these base villains, nor the light reports  
Of blistered tongues, for clear and weighty truth:  
But me against the world, in pure defence  
Of your rare Lady, to whose spotless name  
I stand here as a bulwark, and project  
A life to her renown, that ever yet  
Hath been untainted even in envies eye,  
And where it would protect a sanctuary.  
Brave Earl come forth, and keep your scandal in:  
'tis not our fault if you enforce the spot,  
Nor the wreak yours if you perform it not.  Enter Mont with others. Mont. 
Cowards, a fiend or spirit beat ye off?  
They are your own faint spirits that have forged  
The fearful shadows that your eyes deluded:  
The fiend was in you; cast him out then thus.  Tam. 
Favour (my Lord) my love, o favour him.  Buss. 
I will not touch him: Take your life, my Lord,  
And be appeased: O then the coward fates  
Have maimed themselves, and ever lost their honour.  Vmb. 
What have ye done slaves? irreligious Lord?  Buss. 
Forbear them, father; 'tis enough for me  
That Guise and Monsieur, death and destiny  
Come behind D'Ambois: is my body then  
But penetrable flesh? And must my mind  
Follow my blood? Can my divine part add  
No aid to th'earthly in extremity?  
Then these divines are but for form, not fact:  
Man is of two sweet Courtly friends compact;  
A mistress and a servant: let my death  
Define life nothing but a courtier's breath.  
Nothing is made of nought, of all things made,  
Their abstract being a dream but of a shade.  
I'll not complain to earth yet, but to heaven,  
And (like a man) look upwards even in death.  
Prop me, true sword, as thou hast ever done:  
The equal thought I bear of life and death,  
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 despite of murder; take thy wings  
And haste thee where the grey-eyed morn perfines,  
Her Rosy chariot with Sabaean spices,  
Fly, where the evening from th'Iberian vales,  
Takes on her swarthy shoulders, Hecate  
Crowned with a grove of oaks: fly where men feel  
The burning axle-tree: and those that suffer  
Beneath the chariot of the Snowy Bear:  
And tell them all that D'Ambois now is hasting  
To the eternal dwellers; that a thunder  
Of all their sighs together (for their frailties  
Beheld in me) may quit my worthless fall  
With a fit volley for my funeral.  Vmb. 
Forgive thy murderers.  Buss. 
I forgive them all;  
And you my Lord, their fautor; for true sign  
Of which unfeigned remission, take my sword;  
Take it, and only give it motion,  
And it shall find the way to victory  
By his own brightness, and th' inherent valour  
My fight hath stilled into't, with charms of spirit.  Bus. 
And let me pray you, that my weighty blood  
Laid in one scale of your impartial spleen  
May sway the forfeit of my worthy love  
weighed in the other: and be reconciled  
With all forgiveness to your matchless wife.  Tam. 
Forgive thou me dear servant, and this hand  
That lead thy life to this unworthy end,  
Forgive it, for the blood with which 'tis stained  
In which I writ the summons of thy death:  
The forced summons, by this bleeding wound,  
By this here in my bosom: and by this  
That makes me hold up both my hands imbrued  
For thy dear pardon.  Bus. 
O, my heart is broken  
Fate, nor these murderers, Monsieur, nor the Guise.  
Have any glory in my death, but this:  
This killing spectacle: this prodigy:  
My sun is turned to blood 'gainst whose red beams  
Pindas and Ossa (hid in endless snow  
Laid on my heart and liver; from their veins)  
Melt like two hungry torrents: eating rocks  
Into the Ocean of all human life,  
And make it bitter, only with my blood:  
O frail condition of strength, valour; virtue,  
In me (like warning fire upon the top  
Of some steep beacon, on a steeper hill)  
Made to express it: like a falling star  
Silently glanced, that like a thunderbolt,  
Looked to have stuck and shook the firmament.  Vmb. 
Son of the earth, whom my unrested soul,  
Rues t'have begotten in the faith of heaven;  
(Since thy revengeful Spirit hath rejected  
The charity it commands, and the remission  
To serve and worship, the blind rage of blood)  
Assay to gratulate and pacify,  
The soul fled from this worthy by performing  
The Christian reconcilement he besought  
Betwixt thee and thy Lady, let her wounds  
Manlesly digged in her, be eased and cured  
With balm of thine own tears: or be assured  
Never to rest free from my haunt and horror.  Mont. 
See how she merits this: still sitting by  
And mourning his fall, more than her own fault.  Vmb. 
Remove, dear daughter, and content thy husband:  
So piety wils thee, and thy servants peace.  Tamy. 
O wretched piety, that art so distract  
In thine own constancy; and in thy right  
Must be unrighteous: if I right my friend  
I wrong my husband: if his wrong I shun,  
The duty of my friend I leave undone;  
Ill plays on both sides; here and there, it riseth;  
No place: no good so good, but ill compriseth;  
My soul more scruple breeds, than my blood, sin,  
Virtue imposeth more than any stepdame:  
O had I never married but for form,  
Never vowed faith but purposed to deceive:  
Never made conscience of any sin,  
But cloaked it privately and made it common:  
Nor never honoured been, in blood, or mind,  
Happy had I been then, as others are  
Of the like licence; I had then been honoured:  
Lived without envy: custom had benumbed  
All sense of scruple, and all note of frailty:  
My fame had been untouched, my heart unbroken:  
But (shunning all) I strike on all offence,  
O husband? dear friend? O my conscience?  Mont. 
I must not yield to pity nor to love  
So servile and so traitorous: cease my blood  
To wrestle with my honour, fame and judgement:  
Away, forsake my house, forbear complaints  
Where thou hast bred them: here all things full,  
Of their own shame and sorrow, leave my house.  Tam. 
Sweet Lord forgive me, and I will be gone,  
And till these wounds, that never balm shall close  
Till death hath entered at them (so I love them  
Being opened by your hands) by death be cured  
I never more will grieve you with my sight:  
Never endure that any roof shall part  
Mine eyes and heaven: but to the open deserts  
(Like to hunted Tigers) I will fly:  
Eating my heart, shunning the steps of men,  
And look on no side till I be arrived.  Mont. 
I do forgive thee, and upon my knees  
With hands (held up to heaven) wish that mine honour  
Would suffer reconcilement to my love:  
But since it will not, honour, never serve  
My Love with flourishing object till it starve:  
And as this Taper, though it upwards look,  
Downwards must needs consume, so let our love;  
As having lost his honey, the sweet taste  
Runs into savour, and will needs retain  
A spice of his first parents, till (like life)  
It sees and dies; so let our love: and lastly,  
As when the flame is suffered to look up  
It keeps his luster: but, being thus turned down  
(His natural course of useful light inverted)  
His own stuff puts it out: so let our love,  
Now turn from me, as here I turn from thee,  
And may both points of heavens straight axle-tree  
Conjoin in one, before thyself and me.  Vmb. 
My terrors are struck inward, and no more  
My penance will allow they shall enforce  
Earthly afflictions but upon myself:  
Farewell brave relics of a complete man:  
Look up and see thy spirit made a star,  
join flames with Hercules: and when thou setst  
Thy radiant forehead in the firmament,  
Make the vast continent, crack with thy receipt,  
Spread to a world of fire: and th'aged sky,  
Cheer with new sparks of old humanity.  
Finis Actus Quinti & ultimi.