  [The Banquetting-Hall in the Court.] Henry, Monsieur with a letter, Guise, Montsurry, Bussy, Elynor, Tamyra, Beaupre, Pero, Charlotte, Anable, Pyrha, with foure Pages. Henry. Ladies, ye have not done our banquet right, Nor lookt upon it with those cheereful rayes That lately turn'd your breaths to flouds of gold; Your looks, me thinks, are not drawne out with thoughts So cleare and free as heretofore, but foule As if the thick complexions of men Govern'd within them. Bussy. 'Tis not like, my lord, That men in women rule, but contrary; For as the moone, of all things God created Not only is the most appropriate image10 Or glasse to shew them how they wax and wane, But in her height and motion likewise beares Imperiall influences that command In all their powers, and make them wax and wane: So women, that, of all things made of nothing, Are the most perfect idols of the moone, Or still-unwean'd sweet moon-calves with white faces, Not only are paterns of change to men, But as the tender moon-shine of their beauties Cleares or is cloudy, make men glad or sad. So then they rule in men, not men in them. Monsieur. But here the moons are chang'd (as the King notes) And either men rule in them, or some power Beyond their voluntary faculty, For nothing can recover their lost faces. Montsurry. None can be alwayes one: our griefes and joyes Hold severall scepters in us, and have times For their divided empires: which griefe now in them Doth prove as proper to his diadem. Buss. And griefe's a naturall sicknesse of the bloud,30 That time to part asks, as his comming had; Onely sleight fooles griev'd suddenly are glad. A man may say t'a dead man, "be reviv'd," As well as to one sorrowfull, "be not griev'd." And therefore (princely mistresse) in all warres Against these base foes that insult on weaknesse, And still fight hous'd behind the shield of Nature, Of priviledge law, treachery, or beastly need, Your servant cannot help; authority here Goes with corruption, something like some states40 That back woorst men; valour to them must creepe That to themselves left would feare him asleepe. Duchess. Ye all take that for granted that doth rest Yet to be prov'd; we all are as we were, As merry and as free in thought as ever.45 Guise. And why then can ye not disclose your thoughts? Tamyra. Me thinks the man hath answer'd for us well. Mons. The man! why, madam, d'ee not know his name? Tam. Man is a name of honour for a King: Additions take away from each chiefe thing. The schoole of modesty not to learne learnes dames: They sit in high formes there that know mens names. Mons. [to Bussy.] Heark, sweet heart, here's a bar set to your valour! It cannot enter here, no, not to notice Of what your name is; your great eagles beak (Should you flie at her) had as good encounter An Albion cliffe as her more craggy liver. Buss. Ile not attempt her, sir; her sight and name (By which I onely know her) doth deter me. Henr. So doe they all men else. Mons. You would say so, 60 If you knew all. Tam. Knew all, my lord? what meane you? Mons. All that I know, madam. Tam. That you know! Speak it. Mons. No, tis enough I feele it. Henr. But me thinks Her courtship is more pure then heretofore. True courtiers should be modest, and not nice; Bold, but not impudent; pleasure love, not vice. Mons. Sweet heart, come hither! what if one should make Horns at Mountsurry, would it not strike him jealous Through all the proofes of his chaste ladies vertues? Buss. If he be wise, not. Mons. What, not if I should name the gardener That I would have him think hath grafted him? Buss. So the large licence that your greatnesse uses To jest at all men may be taught indeed To make a difference of the grounds you play on, Both in the men you scandall and the matter. Mons. As how, as how? Buss. Perhaps led with a traine Where you may have your nose made lesse and slit, Your eyes thrust out. Mons. Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace! Who dares doe that? the brother of his King! Buss. Were your King brother in you; all your powers (Stretcht in the armes of great men and their bawds) Set close downe by you; all your stormy lawes Spouted with lawyers mouthes, and gushing bloud, Like to so many torrents; all your glories Making you terrible, like enchanted flames, Fed with bare cockscombs and with crooked hammes, All your prerogatives, your shames, and tortures, All daring heaven and opening hell about you— Were I the man ye wrong'd so and provok'd, (Though ne're so much beneath you) like a box tree I would out of the roughnesse of my root Ramme hardnesse in my lownesse, and, like death Mounted on earthquakes, I would trot through all Honors and horrors, thorow foule and faire, And from your whole strength tosse you into the aire. Mons. Goe, th'art a devill! such another spirit Could not be still'd from all th'Armenian dragons. O, my loves glory! heire to all I have (That's all I can say, and that all I sweare) If thou out-live me, as I know thou must, Or else hath Nature no proportion'd end To her great labours; she hath breath'd a minde Into thy entrails, of desert to swell Into another great Augustus CÆsar;105 Organs and faculties fitted to her greatnesse; And should that perish like a common spirit, Nature's a courtier and regards no merit. Henr. Here's nought but whispering with us; like a calme Before a tempest, when the silent ayre Layes her soft eare close to the earth to hearken For that she feares steales on to ravish her; Some fate doth joyne our eares to heare it comming. Come, my brave eagle, let's to covert flie! I see almighty Æther in the smoak Of all his clowds descending, and the skie Hid in the dim ostents of tragedy. Exit Henr[y] with D'Amb[ois] & Ladies. Guis. Now stirre the humour, and begin the brawle. Mont. The King and D'Ambois now are growne all one. Mons. Nay, they are two, my lord. Mont. How's that? Mons. No more. Mont. I must have more, my lord. Mons. What, more than two? Mont. How monstrous is this! Mons. Why? Mont. You make me horns. Mons. Not I, it is a work without my power, Married mens ensignes are not made with fingers; Of divine fabrique they are, not mens hands: Your wife, you know, is a meere Cynthia, And she must fashion hornes out of her nature. Mont. But doth she? dare you charge her? speak, false prince. Mons. I must not speak, my lord; but if you'l use The learning of a noble man, and read, Here's something to those points. Soft, you must pawne Your honour, having read it, to return it. Enter Tamira, Pero. Mont. Not I:—I pawne mine honour for a paper! Mons. You must not buy it under. Exeunt Guise and Monsieur. Mont. Keepe it then, And keepe fire in your bosome! Tam. What sayes he? Mont. You must make good the rest. Tam. How fares my lord? Takes my love any thing to heart he sayes? Mont. Come, y'are a— Tam. What, my lord? Mont. The plague of Herod Feast in his rotten entrailes! Tam. Will you wreak Your angers just cause given by him on me?140 Mont. By him? Tam. By him, my lord. I have admir'd You could all this time be at concord with him, That still hath plaid such discords on your honour. Mont. Perhaps tis with some proud string of my wives. Tam. How's that, my lord? Mont. Your tongue will still admire, Till my head be the miracle of the world. Tam. O woe is me! She seemes to sound. Pero. What does your lordship meane? Madam, be comforted; my lord but tries you. Madam! Help, good my lord, are you not mov'd? Doe your set looks print in your words your thoughts? Sweet lord, cleare up those eyes, Unbend that masking forehead. Whence is it You rush upon her with these Irish warres, More full of sound then hurt? But it is enough; You have shot home, your words are in her heart;155 She has not liv'd to beare a triall now. Mont. Look up, my love, and by this kisse receive My soule amongst thy spirits, for supply To thine chac'd with my fury. Tam. O, my lord, I have too long liv'd to heare this from you.160 Mont. 'Twas from my troubled bloud, and not from me. I know not how I fare; a sudden night Flowes through my entrailes, and a headlong chaos Murmurs within me, which I must digest, And not drowne her in my confusions, That was my lives joy, being best inform'd. Sweet, you must needs forgive me, that my love (Like to a fire disdaining his suppression) Rag'd being discouraged; my whole heart is wounded When any least thought in you is but touch't,170 And shall be till I know your former merits, Your name and memory, altogether crave In just oblivion their eternall grave; And then, you must heare from me, there's no meane In any passion I shall feele for you.175 Love is a rasor, cleansing, being well us'd, But fetcheth blood still, being the least abus'd. To tell you briefly all—the man that left me When you appear'd, did turne me worse than woman, And stab'd me to the heart, thus, with his fingers. Tam. O happy woman! comes my stain from him, It is my beauty, and that innocence proves That slew ChymÆra, rescued Peleus From all the savage beasts in Peleon, And rais'd the chaste Athenian prince from hell: All suffering with me, they for womens lusts, I for a mans, that the Egean stable Of his foule sinne would empty in my lap. How his guilt shunn'd me! Sacred innocence That, where thou fear'st, are dreadfull, and his face Turn'd in flight from thee that had thee in chace! Come, bring me to him. I will tell the serpent Even to his venom'd teeth (from whose curst seed A pitcht field starts up 'twixt my lord and me) That his throat lies, and he shall curse his fingers195 For being so govern'd by his filthy soule. Mont. I know not if himselfe will vaunt t'have beene The princely author of the slavish sinne, Or any other; he would have resolv'd me, Had you not come, not by his word, but writing, Would I have sworne to give it him againe, And pawn'd mine honour to him for a paper. Tam. See, how he flies me still! tis a foule heart That feares his owne hand. Good my lord, make haste To see the dangerous paper: papers hold Oft-times the formes and copies of our soules, And (though the world despise them) are the prizes Of all our honors; make your honour then A hostage for it, and with it conferre My neerest woman here in all she knowes; Who (if the sunne or Cerberus could have seene Any staine in me) might as well as they. And, Pero, here I charge thee, by my love, And all proofes of it (which I might call bounties); By all that thou hast seene seeme good in mee, And all the ill which thou shouldst spit from thee; By pity of the wound this touch hath given me, Not as thy mistresse now, but a poore woman To death given over, rid me of my paines; Powre on thy powder; cleare thy breast of me.220 My lord is only here: here speak thy worst; Thy best will doe me mischiefe; if thou spar'st me, Never shine good thought on thy memory! Resolve my lord, and leave me desperate. Per. My lord!—my lord hath plaid a prodigals part,225 To break his stock for nothing, and an insolent, To cut a Gordian when he could not loose it. What violence is this, to put true fire To a false train; to blow up long crown'd peace With sudden outrage; and beleeve a man, Sworne to the shame of women, 'gainst a woman Borne to their honours? But I will to him. Tam. No, I will write (for I shall never more Meet with the fugitive) where I will defie him, Were he ten times the brother of my King. To him, my lord,—and ile to cursing him. Exeunt. LINENOTES:with a letter. A omits. 24 faculty. A, motions. 28 divided empires. A, predominance. 29 prove. A, claime. Buss. No, I thinke not. Mons. Not if I nam'd the man With whom I would make him suspicious His wife hath arm'd his forehead! Buss. So you might Have your great nose made lesse indeede, and slit. 104 desert. A, effect. Exeunt ... Monsieur. A omits. Sweete lord, cleare up those eies, for shame of noblesse: Mercilesse creature; but it is enough. B has three lines broken at forehead, warres, enough. 181 comes ... him. Punctuated by ed.; Qq, comes my stain from him? Be not nice For any trifle, jeweld with your honour, To pawne your honor. 234 Meet. A, Speake. |
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