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I 


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Grad 


.T; 


CHAPMAN'S    TRAGEDIES 


New  Volumes  in  the 

Library  of  Scholarship 
and  Letters. 

800,  cUah  ixtra,  giU.    Each  6l. 

CHAPKAH  (6B0R6B) :  Oomplcto  Works,  edited  with  Intro- 
duction, various  Readings  and  Notes  by  T.  F.  Parrott, 
Professos  of  English  Literature  in  the  University  of 
Princeton.  Each  Play  carefuUv  collated  with  the  Quartoe 
in  the  British  Museum,  the  Bocueian  Library,  and  libraries 
on  the  Continent.  3  vols.,  8vo,  cloth  extra,  each  61. 
!•  TrtgedlM*    8«  OomsdlM*    8*  Poenii* 

OTHBWULF:  Poems.  Translated  into  English  Prose,  and 
edited  by  Prof.  C.  W.  KsmcsDY,  Ph.D.,  with  aA  bitro- 
diictiont    CfoWB  Svo^  cloth  eztn,  ta» 

Roman  Ufe  and  Maaaon  nnder  tho  Early  Empire.  By 
LuDWio  FaiEDLABNDBR.  Translated,  with  the  author's 
consent,  from  the  7th  edition  of  the  *' Sittengeschichte 
Roms,"  by  J.  H.  Frbesx,  M.A.,  and  Leonard  A.  Magnus, 
LL.B.    Cloth  extra,  gilt,  crown  8vo.    3  vols.    Each  Oi. 

LBTTEB8  OF  LTTERART  MEM  OF  TEE  MINETEEHTH 
CEMTURT.  Selected  and  Edited,  with  a  Runnhig  Com- 
mentary, by  F.  A.  MuMBY,  with  16  full-page  Photogravure 
Plates.    8vo,  cloth  extra,  gilt,  6s. 

AlreAdT  issued. 
BIB8B :  Dtfolopmeat  of  tho  Fooliag  for  Ratoro. 
OURLB :  Anoeli  of  Goorgo  Meredith. 
SMTTHE  PALMER  (edited) :  The  Ideal  of  a  GonUoman. 
8U0KLIMG :  Comploto  Pootftai  Works.  Edited  by  A.  Hamot 

TON  Thompson. 
TAYLOR :  Words  and  Plaoos,  edited  by  Dr.  Smythb  Palmbr. 
WALTOE  :  Oompleto  Angler :   Major's  edition,  iUustrated. 


THE  PLAYS  AND  POEMS 

OF 

GEORGE  CHAPMAN 

THE    TRAGEDIES 


EDITED  WITH  INTRODUCTIONS 
AND  NOTES 

By 
THOMAS  MARC  PARROTT,  Ph.D 


LONDON 

GEORGE  ROmXEDGE  &  SONS,  LIMITED 

Ni«r  York:    E.  P.  DmTON  *  CO 


First  printed  in  1910. 


FREDERICK  JAMES  FURNIVALL 

5n  AetnotUim 


n  -i '  at 


PREFACE 


This,  the  first  volume  of  a  new  edition  of  the  plays  and  poems 
of  George  Chapman,  includes  his  tragedies,  Bussy  D*AnU)ois, 
The  Revenge  of  Bussy,  The  Conspiracy  and  Tragedy  of  Byron, 
Chabot,  and  Casar  and  Pompey,  together  with  the  two  tragedies 
ascribed  to  him  by  their  first  publishers,  Alphonsus  Emperor  of 
Germany,  and  Revenge  for  Honour,  The  second  volume  will 
contain  his  comedies,  and  the  third  his  poems,  along  with  a 
general  introduction,  a  glossary,  and  a  bibliography. 

The  need  of  a  complete  edition  of  Chapman's  plays  and  poems 
has  long  been  felt  by  students  of  Elizabethan  literature.  It  was 
not  until  more  than  two  centuries  after  his  death  that  the  first 
collection  of  his  plays.  The  Comedies  and  Tragedies  of  George 
Chapman,  London,  1873,  appeared.  This  collection  was  incom- 
plete, omitting  Chabot  and  Eastward  Ho,  and  the  text  which 
professed  to  be  an  exact  reprint  of  the  old  editions  left  much  to 
be  desired.  In  1874-5  the  first  complete  edition  of  his  works 
appeared,  edited  by  R.  H.  Shepherd,  who  is  generally  understood 
to  have  been  the  editor  of  the  previous  edition.  This  later  edi- 
tion, although  remedying  the  omissions  of  the  former,  is  satis- 
factory neither  to  the  general  reader  nor  to  the  student  of  the 
Elizabethan  drama.  There  is  no  need  to  go  into  details  here  ; 
evidence  of  the  careless  manner  in  which  the  task  was  performed 
will  be  found  in  abundance  in  my  Text  Notes  to  the  various 
plays.  Since  1875  only  selected  plays  of  Chapman  have  been 
published,  and  of  these  the  largest  collection,  that  included  in 
the  Mermaid  Series,  rests  upon  the  work  of  Mr.  Shepherd.  There 
is,  I  believe,  ample  room  for  a  new  and  complete  edition,  which 
will  at  once  satisfy  the  demand  of  scholars  for  an  accurate  text, 
and  present  the  work  of  the  noble  old  poet  in  a  form  suited  to 
the  general  reading  public. 

Such,  at  least,  is  the  opinion  of  the  present  editor,  and  it  is  at 
tbja  goal  that  he  has  aimed  in  the  preparation  of  the  present 

edition. 

•• 


viii  PREFACE 

The  text  has  been  the  object  of  peculiar  care.  Founded  in 
every  case  but^  one  upon  the  first  edition  of  the  play  in  question, 
it  has  been  compared,  wherever  possible,  with  later  editions  in 
Chapman's  own  age,  and  with  the  work  of  modem  editors. 

The  spelling  has  been  modernized  throughout,  and  for  this, 
in  a  work  offered  to  the  general  public,  I  believe  that  I  need 
offer  no  apology.  Exact  reproductions  of  old  books  are  for  a 
limited  circle  of  scholars.  They  are  not  editions  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word,  as  I  understand  it,  but  merely  material  from 
which  scholars  who  have  not  access  to  the  originals  may  construct 
editions.  Nothing  is  gained  for  the  general  reader,  nor  indeed  for 
the  average  student,  by  reproducing  wit^  painful  exactness  the 
misprints,  variants  in  spelling,  often  due  to  the  old  composi- 
tors rather  than  to  the  author,  and  the  confusing  punctuation 
of  the  old  texts. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  have  attempted  to  keep,  so  far  as  possi- 
ble, the  actual  language  of  the  author.  I  have  made  no  attempt 
to  correct  his  grammar  in  accordance  with  our  modem  notions 
of  propriety.  I  have  even  retained  the  old  spellings  when  they 
appeared  to  me  to  denote  a  true,  though  now  obsolete  form  of 
the  word,  as,  for  example,  muriher,  shipwrach,  and  porcpisc. 
Here  I  have  in  the  main  followed  the  guidance  of  the  New  English 
DicHonary,  modernizing  such  forms  as  it  includes  under  the  mere 
variants  of  spelling,  and  retaining  those  to  which  it  assigns  an 
independent  place.  That  I  have  been  strictly  consistent  in 
dealhig  with  the  hundreds  of  cases  on  which  I  have  had  to  pass 
judgment,  I  will  not  venture  to  assert.  Compromises  are  rarely 
consistent,  and  this  edition  is  a  frank  attempt  to  find  a  middle 
ground  between  a  slavish  retention  of  the  errors  of  the  old  texts, 
and  such  a  radical  revision  as  would  dispel  the  ancient  flavour 
of  the  work. 

In  the  matter  of  metre,  I  have  gone  perhaps  to  undue  lengths 
in  my  desire  to  retain  the  old.  Nothing,  I  think,  is  clearer  than 
that  Elizabethan  blank  verse,  written  for  the  stage  and  meant 
to  be  judged  by  the  ear  rather  than  the  eye,  differed  very  widely 
from  our  modem  conception  of  the  ten-syllable  iambic  line 
meant  rather  to  be  read  than  heard.  What  seem  to  us  irregu- 
larities and  even  palpable  errors,  were  licenses  which  were  claimed 
and  freely  employed  by  the  Elizabethan  playwright.    I  have 


^  The  one  ezoeption  is  Bussy  D'Awbois,  where  the  edition  ol  ^64 1  present^ 
Cbapm4a'9  own  revi^iou  of  his  te^tt.    See  Notes,  p.  5^1, 


PREFACE  ix 

therefore  seldom  emended  a  line  for  the  sake  of  rendering  it 
more  '  regular/  never,  indeed,  except  when  I  have  been  per- 
suaded that  the  '  irregularity '  was  not  due  to  the  author,  but 
had  occurred  at  press. 

One  typographical  matter  I  may  be  allowed  to  mention  here. 
Chapman,  it  seems,  was  in  the  habit  ^  of  denoting  the  contracted 
pronunciation  of  the  past  tense  and  the  past  participle  in  -^  by 
using  the  apostrophe ;  where  he  wrote  out  the  e  he  meant  to 
indicate  that  the  final  syllable  was  to  be  pronounced.  I  have 
followed  this  usage  throughout,  even  at  the  cost  of  reproducing 
forms  that  may  seem  uncouth  to  modem  eyes ;  where  I  have 
altered  it  I  have  treated  the  alteration  as  a  correction  of  the 
text  and  have  noted  it  in  the  Text  Notes. 

Any  additions  that  I  have  made  either  to  the  text  or  to  the 
stage  directions  of  the  old  editions  I  have  included  within  square 
brackets.  Where  the  alteration  has  involved  the  dropping  of  a- 
word  or  part  of  a  word,  as  in  the  change  of  suspecHon  to  suspect, 
on  p.  362,  1.  105,  it  has  been  impossible  to  indicate  this  in  the 
text,  but  all  such  changes  have  been  carefully  recorded  in  the 
text  notes.  In  regard  to  the  text  itself  no  comment  is  necessary 
on  this  customary  practice,  but  a  word  may  be  in  place  in  regard 
to  the  added  stage  directions. 

It  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge  that  the  earliest  editions 
of  Elizabethan  plays  are,  to  our  modem  minds,  extremely  de- 
ficient in  stage  directions.  So  scanty  are  they,  indeed,  that 
<iften  it  is  difBicult  to  grasp  the  situation  at  a  glance  without 
adding,  in  imagination  at  least,  the  stage  directions  that  a 
modem  author  would  supply.  To  facilitate  the  reading,  then, 
of  Shakespeare  or  of  Chapman,  I  beheve  that  a  modem  editor 
is  justified  in  introducing  whatever  stage  directions  may  seem 
to  him  to  conduce  to  this  end.  On  the  other  hand,  to  omit 
to  distingmsh  such  additions  from  the  original  directions  is  at 
once  to  give  a  false  impression  of  the  old  texts,  and  to  render 
the  edition  quite  unreliable  for  that  study  of  the  Elizabethan 
stage  to  which  at  present  so  much  attention  is  being  directed,  and 
from  which  such  valuable  results  are,  we  may  well  hope,  shortly 
to  be  obtained.  I  have,  therefore,  added  stage  diiectionb  wheie- 
ever  I  saw  fit,  knowing  that  all  danger  of  confusing  my  additions 
with  the  original  was  prevented  by  the  typographical  device  of 
including  the  new  within  square  brackets. 

1  InsUnoes  of  this  usage'  nuiy  be  found  in  the  first  lines  of  the  first  play  of 
ti»s  volume,  Bussy,  I,  i.  19  and  22*    Ct  with  these  I.  i,  44* 


X  PREFACE 

One  additton  alone  is  not  so  nKarkad.  Where  the  old  texts 
gave  us  no '  list  of  the  dramaHs  persona  I  have  supplied  such  a 
list,  omitting  on  account  of  the  awkward  appearance  of  the 
device  to  include  the  whole  list  within  square  brackets,  but 
calling  attention  to  it  in  the  Text  Notes.  Where  the  old  text  gives 
a  list,  but  omits  one  or  more  of  the  personages,  the  additions  are 
maiiced  as  usual. 

For  the  convenience  of  the  reader  and  for  the  purposes  of 
reference  I  have  divided  the  usually'  unbroken  acts  of  the 
original  into  scenes  and  have  numboied  each  scene  separately. 

The  notes,  beginning  on  p.  541  of  this  volume,  include  a  special 
introduction,  illustrative  and  explanatory  notes,  and  text  notes 
on  each  play.  The  introduction  attempts  to  give  whatever  is 
known  as  to  the  date  of  composition,  the  sources,  the  stage  his- 
tory, and  so  forth,  of  the  play,  together  with  a  brief  appreciation 
of  its  pecxdiar  characteristics.  In  the  case  of  collaboration  or 
of  disputed  authorship  I  have  tried  to  give  a  careful  and,  I  hope, 
impartial  survey  of  the  facts  on  which  I  have  based  my  con- 
clusions. So  fau:  as  possible  I  have  tried  to  give  an  answer  to 
the  varied  problems  presented  by  these  plays,  but  I  do  not  pre- 
sume to  think  that  I  have  in  any  case  '  settled  Hoti's  business.* 
I  can  only  hope  that  my  work  has  made  the  conditions  of  the 
problems  clearer,  and  brought  them  some  stages  nearer  to  a 
final  sohitian. 

The  notes  in  general  are  meant  to  elucidate  and  illustrate  the 
text.  Chapman  is  by  no  means  easy  reading.  Swinburne  ranks 
him  along  with  Fulke  Greville  as  '  of  all  English  poets  the  most 
genuinely  obscure  in  style.'  I  have  tried  to  throw  light  upon 
his  obscurities,  sometimes  by  comment,  sometimes  by  the  method 
of  paraphrase;  but  I  cannot  pretend  to  have  solved  all  the 
difficulties  which  the  text  presents.  The  definition  of  single 
words  has  as  a  rule  been  left  to  the  Glossary,  which  will  appear 
in  the  third  volume.  Special  attention  has  been  paid  in  these 
notes  to  Chapma:n*s  use  of  his  sources,  to  his  borrowings  from 
ihe  classics,  to  parallels  with  other  Elizabethan  writeis,  and  to 
parallels  with  other  passages  in  his  own  work  illustrative  of  his 
Mck  of  repetition.  ^'' 

The  text  notes  give  an  account  of  the  former  editions,  both 

^  This  18  the  case,  for  example,  with  Bussy,  The  Omspiraey  and  Tragedy  cf 
Byron,  and  CkabaL 

*  Revenge  for  Honoue  alone  of  the  plays  ia  this  volume  preseats  the  myodem 
division  iato  scenes. 


PREFACE  XI 

contemporary  and  modem,  and  record  the  various  readings  of 
the  old  editions,  where  more  than  one  exists,  except  in  the  case 
of  mere  variants  of  spelling.  Even  these  latter  are  noted,  how- 
ever, when  they  may  throw  light  upon  any  difficulty.  The 
readings  from  tibie  old  texts  are,  of  course,  given  vwbtUim  ei 
literatim,  so  that  the  reader  may  see  how  far  the  alterations  pro- 
posed or  adopted  are  justified.  I  have  recorded  also  the  most 
important  emendations  proposed  by  modem  editors  or  com- 
mentators even  when  these  have  not  been  received  into  the  text. 
In  short,  I  have  tried  to  make  these  notes  full  enough  to  enable 
the  reader  who  is  interested  in  such  things  to  check  my  text,  to 
restore,  if  he  so  pleases,  the  old,  or  perhaps  to  suggest  a  better 
reading  than  that  which  I  have  adopted. 

Finally,  my  thanks  are  due  to  scholars  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic  who  have  assisted  me  in  my  labours.  First  of  all  to 
the  late  Doctor  Fumivall,  to  whom  tiiis  volume  is  dedicated,  as 
a  slight  token  of  gratitude  for  many  instances  of  personal  kind- 
ness and  scholarly  counsel ;  then  to  Dr.  Bradley,  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel, 
and  Mr.  Le  Gay  Brereton,  from  all  of  whom  I  have  received 
valuable  aid  in  the  construction  and  annotation  of  the  text.  I 
owe  Mr.  Charles  Crawford  special  thanks  for  placing  at  my  dis- 
posal a  series  of  parallel  references  in  Chapman  which  have  more 
than  once  availed  to  solve  perplexing  difficulties.     I  have  made 

frequent  use  of  Professor  Koeppel's  (2^4^^^^^^^^^  sudenDramen 
Chapman's,  and  take  this  opportunity  to  acknowledge  my  in- 
debtedness to  my  friend,  the  author.  To  my  colleague,  Dr.  Ken- 
nedy, of  Princeton  University,  I  owe  a  deep  debt  for  hours  of 
long  and  painstaking  labour  spent  with  me  in  the  determination 
of  the  text  and  the  correction  of  proof  sheets.  Nor  must  I  omit 
to  thank  Mr.  T.  J.  Wise,  of  London,  and  Mr.  Armour,  of  Prince- 
ton, for  their  kindness  in  allowing  me  the  use  of  their  copies  of 
old  editions  of  Chapman.  And  finally  along  with  hundreds  of 
workers  in  the  field  of  English  letters  my  sincerest  thanks  are 
due  to  the  authorities  of  the  British  Museum  and  the  Bodleian 
for  the  courteous  assistance  which  alone  renders  work  like  this 
possible. 

The  list  of  Errata,  somewhat  longer  than  I  should  like,  is  due, 
in  part  at  least,  to  the  circumstances  under  which  I  have  been 
forced  to  read  the  proof.  I  dare  not  hope  that  it  is  complete, 
and  will  be  grateful  to  all  who  will  point  out  other  errors  in  text 
or  comment  for  future  correction. 

T.  M,  P. 

Oxford,  September,  1910, 


CONTENTS 

PAGB 

Pkxfacb vii 

List  op  Cossigbmda xiv 

BussY  D'Ambois X 

Trb  Rsvbngb  of  Bussy  D'Ambois                                  •         •  75 

Thb  Conspibacy  and  Tragbdy  of  Chablbs  Duxb  of  Bybon  149 

Thb  Tbagbdy  of  Chabot  Advxbal  of  Fbancb  273 

Thb  Tbagbdy  of  Cbsab  and  Pompby          ....  339 

Thb  Tbagbdy  of  Alfhonsxts  Ekpbbob  of  Gbbmany  .401 

Rbvbngx  fob  Honoub 473 

NoTBs: — 

Bussy  D'Ambois 541 

Thb  Rbvbngb  of  Bussy  D'Ambois  -571 

Thb  Conspibacy  and  Tbagbdy  of  Bybon  -591 

Thb  Tbagbdy  of  Chabot 631 

Cabsab  and  Pompby 655 

Alphonsus  Empbbob  of  Gbbmany          ....     683 
Rbvbngb  fob  Honoub 713 


ziu 


ERRATA. 


Page  15, 

50. 

84. 
109, 

116. 

I25i 

146, 

147. 
174* 


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283, 

288, 
289, 
289, 

297. 
297i 
302, 
318, 
320, 

334* 
353. 
361, 

384. 
390, 
400, 
408, 

4". 
416, 

4231 
430. 
432, 

434. 
435i 
436, 

44I1 
455. 
479. 
485. 
498, 

503. 

504. 
506, 

508, 
500, 
512, 

515. 

517. 

517. 
520, 

537. 
560, 

563. 
614. 
626. 


1.  146,  far  a  read  o'. 

in  the  headline,  far  Act  II  read  Act  III. 

1.  183,  far  Chymaera  read  Chimaera. 

far  ghastls]  read  Ghast[s], 

supply  the  marginal  number  150. 

1'  159.  for  Char,  read  [Char.]. 

1.  96,  far  Casimir  read  Casimer. 

1.  38,  far  Bastile  read  Bastille. 

1.  170,  dele  the  comma  after  mind. 

1.  210,  far  Char,  read  [Char.]. 

1.  144  and  elsewhere,  far  Fountaine  Fran9oise  read  Fontaine 

Fi:an9ai8e. 
1.  68,  far  realities  read  realties. 
1.  46,  far  others  read  other. 
in  the  stage  direction  amit  and. 
1.  77,  amit  the  before  favour. 
the  marginal  number  40  should  be  one  line  lower, 
amit  and  in  the  stage  direction  after  1.  42. 
in  the  stage  direction  after  1.  208  for  Exit  read  Exeunt. 
U-  313.  315.  316,  318,  329.  332,  include  Judge  in  brackets. 

403,  far  home  read  [home]. 

14Z,  far  had  read  Had. 

282,  far  l3aicean  read  L3aicean. 

68,  far  above  read  [a]bove. 
in  the  headline  far  Act  V  read  Act  IV. 

120,  for  possess  read  profess. 

200,  for  Oot  read  Out. 

147,  far  ton  read  tun. 

37,  far  Lorrain  read  Lorraine. 

243i  for  conforted  read  comforted. 

181,  far  art  read  part. 

109,  far  schelm  read  schelm. 

29,  far  Rheinpfal[z]  read  ReinfaL 

100,  far  We'U  read  We['ll]. 

146,  far  spiel  fresh  up  read  spiel  fresh  up. 

183,  far  Ric  read  Rich, 

348,  far  Ate  read  At6. 

78,  for  Lieve  read  SOsse. 

124,  far  Abo[la]fi  read  Abo[la]ffi. 

373,  dele  the  comma  after  East. 

4,  insert  commas  after  Do  and  affections. 

113,  dele  the  comma  after  the  parenthesis. 

136,  far  [Enter  Mura]  read  {Enter  Mura). 

212,  far  befits  read  befit [s]. 

8,  far  ton  read  tun. 

I,  far  [withauii  read  [^tfain].. 

149,  insert  a  dash  after  her. 

113,  far  'Twere  read  ['Twere]. 

200,  far  [Cries  withoui]  read  [Cries  within]. 

209,  far  [Enter  Simanthes]  read  {Enter  Simanthes). 

289,  for  starts  read  start[s]. 

336,  far  festivals  read  festival[s]. 

24*  for  prince  rettd  Prince. 
coiumn  J,  L  45,  for  like  read  likely. 

15,  for  261-6  read  256-61. 
column  2,  far  239  read  234. 

xvi 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


A  TRAGEDY 


C»D.W. 


Bussy   d'Ambois 

A  TRAGEDY 
PROLOGUE 

Not  out  of  confidence  that  none  but  we  "^ 

Are  able  to  present  this  tragedy. 

Nor  ont  of  envy  at  the  grace  of  late 

It  did  receive,  nor  yet  to  derogate 

From  their  deserts,  who  give  out  boldly  that  5 

They  move  with  equal  feet  on  the  same  flat ; 

Neither  for  all,  nor  any  of  such  ends. 

We  offer  it,  gracious  and  noble  friends. 

To  your  review ;  we,  far  from  emulation 

(And,  charitably  judge,  from  imitation)  10 

With  this  work  entertain  you,  a  piece  known, 

And  still  believed  in  Court  to  be  our  own. 

To  quit  our  claim,  doubting  our  right  or  merit. 

Would  argue  in  us  poverty  of  spirit 

Which  we  must  not  subscribe  to  :  Fibld  is  gone,  1 5 

Whose  action  first  did  give  it  name,  and  one 

Who  came  the  nearest  to  him,  is  denied 

By  his  gray  beard  to  show  the  height  and  pride 

Of  D'Ambois'  youth  and  bravery ;  yet  to  hold 

Our  title  still  a-foot,  and  not  grow  cold  30 

By  giving  it  o'er,  a  third  man  with  his  best 

Of  care  and  pains  defends  our  interest ; 

As  Richard  he  was  liked,  nor  do  we  fear 

In  peiBonating  D'Ambois  he'll  appear 

To  fiunt,  or  go  less,  so  your  free  consent,  35 

As  heretofore,  give  him  encouragement. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 


Henry  III,  King  of  France 
Monsieur,  his  brother 
The  Duke  of  Guise 
The  Count  of  Montsurry 
Bussy  d'Ambois 


Barrisor, 
L'Anou, 
Pyrhot, 
Brisac, 


Melynell 


.} 


Courtiers  ; 

enemies  of 

Bussy 

Courtiers  ; 

friends  of  Bussy 
Beaumond,  an  attendant  on  the 

King 
Comolet,  a  Friar. 
Mafi6,  steward  to  Monsieur 
Nuntius 


Murderers 
Behemoth, 
Cartophylax 
Umbra  of  the  Friar 


]  Spirits 


Elenor,  Duchess  of  Guise 
Tamyra,    Countess     of  ,  Mont" 

surry 
Beaupr6,  niece  to  Elenor 
Annable,  maid  to  Elenor 
Pero,  maid  to  Tamyra 
Charlotte,  maid  to  Beaupri 
Pyra,  a  court  lady 

Courtiers,  Ladies,  Pages,  Ser- 
vants,  Spirits,   to. 


ACTUS    PRIMI     SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Forest  near  Paris] 

Enter  Bussy  d'Ambois,  poor 

Bus.    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  and  worth  to  every  human  seed. 
As  cedars  beaten  with  continual  storms,  5 

So  great  men  flourish ;  and  do  imitate 
Unskilful  statuaries,  who  suppose, 
In  forming  a  Colossus,  if  they  make  him 
Straddle  enough,  strut,  and  look  big,  and  gape, 
Their  work  is  goodly :  so  men  merely  great  10 

In  their  affected  gravity  of  voice. 
Sourness  of  countenance,  manners'  cruelty. 
Authority,  wealth,  and  all  the  spawn  oi  Fortune, 
Think  th^  bear  all  the  kingdom's  worth  before  them; 
Yet  differ  not  from  those  colossic  statues,  15 

Which,  with  heroic  forms  without  o'er-spread, 
Within  are  nought  but  mortar,  flint,  and  lead. 
Man  is  a  torch  borne  in  the  wind ;  a  dream 
But  of  a  shadow,  summ'd  with  all  his  substance ; 
And  as  great  seamen,  using  all  their  wealth  20 

And  skills  in  Neptune's  deep  invisible  paths. 
In  tall  ships  richly  built  and  ribb'd  with  brass, 
To  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  world, 
When  they  have  done  it,  coming  near  their  haven. 
Are  fain  to  give  a  warning-piece,  and  call  25 

A  poor,  staid  flsherman,  that  nev^  pass'd 
His  country's  si^t,  to  waft  and  guide  them  in  : 
So  when  we  wander  furthest  through  the  waves 
Of  glassy  Glory,  and  the  gaUs  of  State, 

Topt  with  all  titles,  spreading  all  our  reaches,  30 

As  if  each  private  arm  would  sphere  the  earth, 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  I 


We  must  to  Virtue  for  her  guide  resort. 
Or  we  shall  shipwrack  in  our  safest  port. 


Procumbit 


Enter  Monsieur  with  two  Pages 

Mons.    There  is  no  second  place  in  numerous  state 
That  holds  more  than  a  cipher ;  in  a  king  35 

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  mean  men's  facts :  40 

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  possible  fortune, 
'Tis  good  to  get  resolved  spirits  about  me. 
I  foUow'd  D'Ambois  to  this  green  retreat,  45 

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 ;  50 

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. 

[Approaching  Bussy.] 
What,  D'Ambois  ? 

Bus.  He,  sir. 

Mons.  Tum'd  to  earth,  alive  ? 

Up,  man ;  the  sun  shines  on  thee. 

Bus.  Let  it  shine:  55 

I  am  no  mote  to  play  in't,  as  great  men  are. 

Mons.    Callest  thou  men  great  in  state,  motes  in  the  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,  60 

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  mettle  could  let  sloth 
Rust  and  consume  it  ?    If  Themistocles  65 

Had  liv'd  obscur'd  thus  in  th' Athenian  state, 
Xerxes  had  made  both  him  and  it  his  slaves. 


Sc.  I]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  7 

If  brave  Camillas  had  lurk'd  so  in  Rome, 

He  had  not  five  times  been  Dictator  there, 

Nor  four  times  triumphed.     If  Epaminondas  70 

fWho  liv'd  twice  twenty  years  obscur'd  in  Thebes) 

Had  liv'd  so  still,  he  had  been  still  unnam'd. 

And  paid  his  country  nor  himself  their  right ; 

But  putting  forth  bia  strength,  he  rescu'd  both 

From  imminent  ruin  ;  and  like  bumish'd  steel,  75 

After  long  use  he  shin'd  ;  for  as  the  light 

Not  only  serves  to  show,  but  renders  us 

Mutually  profitable,  so  our  lives 

In  acts  exemplary  not  only  win 

Ourselves  good  names,  but  do  to  others  give  80 

Matter  for  virtuous  deeds,  by  which  we  live. 

Bus.    What  would  you  wish  me  ? 

Mans.  Leave  the  troubled  streams, 

And  live,  where  thrivers  do,  at  the  well-head. 

Bus.    At  the  well-head  ?    Alas,  what  should  I  do 
With  that  enchanted  glass  ?    See  devils  there  ?  85 

Or,  like  a  strumpet,  learn  to  set  my  looks 
In  an  eternal  brake,  or  practise  juggling. 
To  keep  my  face  stiU  fast,  my  heart  stiU  loose  ; 
Or  bear  (like  dame  schoolmistresses  their  riddles) 
Two  tongues,  and  be  good  only  for  a  shift ;  90 

Flatter  great  lords,  to  put  them  still  in  mind 
Why  they  were  made  lords  ;  or  please  humorous  ladies 
With  a  good  carriage,  tell  them  idle  tales 
To  make  their  physic  work ;  spend  a  man's  Ufe 
In  sights  and  visitations  that  will  make  95 

His  e3res  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 
AH  the  commandments  ere  you  break  your  fast ; 
But  believe  backwards,  make  your  period  100 

And  creed's  last  article,  '  I  believe  in  God  ' : 
And  (hearing  villanies  preach'd)  t'unfold  their  art 
Learn  to  commit  them  ?    'Tis  a  great  man's  part. 
Shall  I  learn  this  there  ? 

Mans.  No,  thou  need'st  not  learn. 

Thou  hast  the  theory ;  now  go  there  and  practise.  105 

Bus.    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  of  ten  rich  men 


»  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  I 

In  one  poor  snit ;  brave  barks  and  outward  gloss 

Attract  Court  loves,  be  in-parts  ne'er  so  gross.  no 

Mons.    Thou  shalt  have  gloss  enough,  and  all  things  fit 

T'enchase  in  all  show  thy  long-smother'd  spirit: 

Be  rul'd  by  me  then  ?   The  old  Scythians 

Painted  blind  Fortune's  powerful  hands  with  wings 

To  show  her  gifts  come  swift  and  suddenly,  115 

Which  if  her  favourite  be  not  swift  to  take. 

He  loses  them  for  ever.    Then  be  wise : 

Stay  but  awhile  here,  and  I'll  send  to  thee. 

Exit  Monsieur  [vfith  the  Pages].  Manet  Bussy 
Bus,    What  will  he  send  ?    Some  crowns  ?    It  is  to  sow 
them 

Upon  my  spirit,  and  make  them  spring  a  crown  120 

Worth  millions  of  the  seed-crowns  he  will  send. 

Like  to  disparking  noble  husbandmen. 

He'll  put  his  plow  into  me,  plow  me  up  ; 
But  his  unsweating  thrift  is  policy. 

And  learning-hating  policy  is  ignorant  125 

To  fit  his  seed-land  soil ;  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  for  virtue,  speed  his  plow !  130 

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  Time's  restless  wheel 

For  each  man's  good,  when  which  nick  comes,  it  strikes ;   135 

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«  140 

Man's  first  hour's  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. 

EnUr  Maff6 

Maf.    Humour  of  princes !    Is  this  wretch  indu'd 
With  any  merit  worth  a  thousand  crowns  ?  145 

Will  my  lord  have  me  be  so  ill  a  steward 
Of  his  revenue,  to  dispose  a  sum 


Sc.  I]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  9 

So  great  with  so  small  cause  as  shows  m  him  ? 
I  must  examine  this.     {To  Bussy.]    Is  your  name  D'Am- 
bois  ? 

Bus.     Sir  ? 

Maf.  Is  your  name  D'Ambois  ? 

Bus.  Who  have  we  here  ?  150 

Serve  you  the  Monsieur  ? 

Maf.  How  ? 

Bus.  Serve  you  the  Monsieur  ? 

Maf.    Sir,  y'are  very  hot.     I  do  serve  the  Monsieur, 
But  in  such  place  as  gives  ma  the  command 
Of  all  bis  other  servants.    And  because 

His  Grace's  pleasure  is  to  give  your  good  155 

His  pass  through  my  command,  methinks  you  might 
Use  me  with  more  respect. 

Bus.  Cry  you  mercy  ! 

Now  you  have  open'd  my  dull  eyes,  I  see  you. 
And  would  be  glad  to  see  the  good  you  speak  of  ; 
What  might  I  call  your  name  ?  160 

Maf.  Monsieur  Maff6. 

Bus.    Monsieur  MafE6  ?    Then,  good  Monsieur  Maf[6, 
Pray  let  me  know  you  better. 

Maf.  Pray  do  so. 

That  you  may  use  me  better.     For  yourself. 
By  your  no  better  outside,  I  would  judge  you 
To  be  some  poet ;  have  you  given  my  lord  165 

Some  pamphlet  ? 

Bus.  Pamphlet  ? 

Maf.  Pamphlet,  sir,  I  say. 

Bus.    Did  your  great  master's  goodness  leave  the  good. 
That  is  to  pass  your  charge  to  my  poor  use, 
To  your  discretion  ? 

Maf.  Though  he  did  not,  sir, 

I  hope  'tis  no  rude  office  to  ask  reason  170 

Hpw  that  his  Grace  gives  me  in  charge,  goes  from  me  ? 

Bus.    That's  very  perfect,  sir. 

Maf.  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  wiUing  to  reheve  you  ?  175 

Bus.    No  merit  in  the  world,  sir. 

Maf.  That  is  strange. 

Y'are  a  poor  soldier,  are  you  ? 


lo  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  I 

Bus,  That  I  am,  sir. 

Maf.    And  have  commanded  ? 

Bus,  Ay,  and  gone  without,  sir. 

Maf.  [aside]  I  see  the  man ;    a  hundred  crowns  will 
make  hiin 
Swagger,  and  drink  healths  to  his  Grace's  bounty,  i8o 

And  swear  he  could  not  be  more  bountiful ; 
So  there's  nine  hundred  crowns  sav'd. — Here,  tall  soldier. 
His  Grace  hath  sent  you  a  whole  hundred  crowns. 

Bus.    A  hundred,  sir  ?    Nay,  do  his  Highness  right ; 
I  know  his  hand  is  larger,  and  perhaps  185 

I  may  deserve  more  than  my  outside  shows  ; 
I  am  a  poet,  as  I  am  a  soldier, 
And  I  can  poetise,  and  (being  well  encourag'd) 
May  sing  his  fame  for  giving,  yours  for  delivering- 
(Like  a  most  faithful  steward)  what  he  gives.  190 

Maf.    What  shall  your  subject  be  ? 

Bus.  I  care  not  much. 

If  to  his  bounteous  Grace  I  sing  the  praise 
Of  fair  great  noses,  and  to  you  of  long  ones. 
What  qualities  have  you,  sir,  beside  your  chain 
And  vcdvet  jacket  ?    Can  your  Worship  dance  ?  195 

Maf.  [aside]  A  pleasant  fellow,  'faith  ;  it  seems  my  lord 
Will  have  him  for  his  jester ;  and,  by'rlady, 
Such  men  are  now  no  fools  ;  'tis  a  Imight's  place. 
If  I  (to  save  his  Grace  some  crowns)  should  urge  him 
T'abate  his  bounty,  I  should  not  be  heard  ;  200 

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,  3^t  I'll  take  no  notice 
Of  his  preferment,  but  in  policy  205 

Will  still  be  grave  and  serious,  lest  he  think 
I  fear  his  wooden  dagger. — Here,  Sir  Ambo ! 

Bus.     How,  Ambo,  sir  ? 

Maf.  Ay,  is  not  your  name  Ambo  ? 

Bus.    You  call'd  me  lately  D'Ambois  ;  has  your  Worship 
So  short  a  head  ? 

Maf.  I  cry  thee  mercy,   D'Ambois.  210 

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  bestow'd  better. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  xi 

Bus.    Go,  y'are  a  rascal;    hence,  away,  yoa  rogue  I       215 

Maf.    What  mean  you,  sir  ? 

Bus.  Hence  I  Prate  no  more. 

Or,  by  thy  villain's  blood,  thou  prat'st  thy  last  I 
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  Mend,  320 

Take  that,  sir,  [striking  html  for  your  aptness  to  dispute. 

EmU 

Maf.    These  crowns    are  set   in  blood ;     blood  be    their 
fruit  I  Exit 


[SCENA  SECUNDA 

A  Room  in  ihs  Court] 

[The  curtain  is  drawn  disclosing]  Henry,  Guise,  Montsurry* 
Elenor,  Tamyra,  Beaupr^,  Pero,  Charlotte,  Pyra,  An- 
nable.     [Henry  and  the  Guise  are  playing  chess] 

Hen.    Duchess  of  Guise,  your  Grace  is  much  enrich'd 
In  the  attendance  of  that  English  virgin. 
That  wiU  initiate  her  prime  of  youth 
(Dispos'd  to  Court  conditions)  under  the  hand 
Of  your  preferred  instructions  and  command,  5 

Ratiier  than  any  in  the  English  Court, 
Whose  ladies  are  not  match'd  in  Christendom 
For  graceful  and  confirmed  behaviours ; 
More  than  the  Court,  where  they  are  bred,  is  eqnall'd. 

Guise.    I  like  not  their  Court  fashion  ;  it  is  too  crestfall'n     10 
In  all  observance,  making  demigods 
Of  their  great  nobles,  and  of  their  old  queen 
An  ever-young  and  most  immortal  goddess. 

Mont.    No  question  she's  the  rarest  queen  in  Europe. 

Guise.    But  what's  that  to  her  immortality  ?  15 

Hen.    Assure  3rou,  cousin  Guise,  so  great  a  courtier. 
So  full  of  majesty  and  royzl  parts. 
No  queen  in  Christendom  may  vaunt  herself. 
Her  Court  approves  it,  that's  a  Court  indeed. 
Not  mixt  with  clowneries  us'd  in  common  houses,  20 

But,  as  Courts  should  be  th'  abstracts  of  their  kingdoms 
In  all  the  beauty,  state,  and  worth  they  hold. 
So  is  hers,  amply,  and  by  her  inform'd. 


12  BUSSY    D'AMBOIS  [ActI 

The  world  is  not  contracted  in  a  man 

With  more  proportion  and  expression,  25 

Than  in  her  Court,  her  kingdom.     Om-  French  G>urt 

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  30 

Than  a  rude  market-place :  and  though  our  custom 

Keep  this  assur'd  confusion  from  our  eyes 

'Tis  ne'er  the  less  essentially  unsightly. 

Which  they  would  soon  see  would  they  change  their  form 

To  this  of  ours,  and  then  compare  them  both  ;  35 

Which  we  must  not  affect,  because  in  kingdoms 

Where  the  king's  change  doth  breed  the  subject's  terror. 

Pure  innovation  is  more  gross  than  error. 

Mont.    No  question  we  shall  see  them  imitate 
(Though  afar  off)  the  fashions  of  our  Courts,  40 

As  they  have  ever  ap'd  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,  deliver'd  of  a  fine  French  suit ;  45 

Their  brains  Ue  with  their  tailors,  and  get  babies 
For  their  most  complete  issue  ;  he's  sole  heir 
To  all  the  moral  virtues  that  first  greets 
The  light  with  a  new  fashion,  which  becomes  them 
Like  apes,  disffgur'd  with  the  attires  of  men.  50 

Hen.    No  question  they  much  wrong  their  real  worth 
In  affectation  of  outlandish  scum  ; 
But  they  have  faults,  and  we  more  ;  they  foolish  proud 
To  jet  in  others  plumes  so  haughtily ; 

We  proud  that  they  are  proud  of  foolery,  55 

Holding  our  worths  more  complete  for  liieir  vaunts. 

Enter  Monsieur  and  D'Ambois 

Mons.  Come,  mine  own  sweetheart,  I  will  enter  thee. 
\To  the  King]  Sir,  I  have  brought  a  gentleman  to  Court, 
And  pray  you  would  vouchsafe  to  do  him  grace. 

Hen.     D'Ambois,  I  think  P 

Bus.  That's  stiU  my  name,  my  lord,  60 

Though  I  be  something  alter'd  in  attire. 

Hen.    We  like  your  alteration,  and  must  tell  you 
We  have  expected  th'offer  of  your  service ; 


Sc.  a]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  13 

For  we  (in  fear  to  make  mild  virtue  proud) 

Use  not  to  seek  her  out  in  any  man.  65 

Bus.    Nor  doth  she  use  to  seek  out  any  man : 
They  that  wiQ  win  must  woo  her. 

Mons.     I  urg'd  her  modesty  in  him,  my  lord. 
And  gave  her  those  rites  that  he  says  she  merits. 

Hen,    If  you  have  woo'd  and  won,  then,  brother,  wear  him.     70 

Mons.    Th'art  mine,  sweetheart.     See,  here's  Ihe  Guise's 
Duchess, 
The  G>untess  of  Montsurreau,  Beaupr6. 
Come,  ril  enseam  thee.     Ladies,  y'are  too  many 
To  be  in  council ;  I  have  here  a  friend 
That  I  would  gladly  enter  in  your  graces.  75 

Bus.     'Save  you,  ladies. 

Duck.     If  you  enter  him  in  our  graces,  my  lord,  methinks 
by  his  blunt  behaviour  he  should  come  out  of  himself. 

Tarn.    Has  he  never  been  courtier,  my  lord  ? 

Mons.     Never,  my  lady.  80 

Beau.    And  why  did  the  toy  take  him  in  th'  head  now  ? 

Bus.     'Tis  leap-year,  lady,  and  therefore  very  good  to 
enter  a  courtier. 

Hen.    Mark,  Duchess  of  Guise,  there  is  one  is  not  bashful. 

Duck.    No,  my  lord,  he  is  much  guilty  of  the  bold  extre-    85 
mity. 

Tarn.    The  man's  a  courtier  at  first  sight. 

Bus.     I  can  sing  prick-song,  lady,  at  first  sight ;   and  why 
not  be  a  courtier  as  suddenly  ? 

Beau.     Here's  a  courtier  rotten  before  he  be  ripe.  90 

Bus.     Think  me  not  impudent,  lady  ;  I  am  yet  no  courtier  : 
I  desire  to  be  one,  and  would  gladly  take  entrance,  madam, 
[To  the  Duchess]  under  your  princely  colours. 

Enter  Barrisor,  L'Anou,  and  Pyrhot 

Duch.    Soft,  sir,  you  must  rise  by  degrees,  first  being  the 
servant  of  some  common  lady,  or  knight's  wile',  then  a  little    95 
higher  to  a  lord's  wife,  next  a  little  higher  to  a  countess,  yet 
a  little  higher  to  a  duchess,  and  then  turn  the  ladder. 

Bus.    Do  you  aUow  a  man,  then,  four  mistresses,  when  the 
greatest  mistress  is  allowed  but  three  servants  ? 

Duck.    Where  find  yon  Hiat  statute,  sir  ?  zoo 

Bus.    Why,  be  judged  by  the  groom-porters. 

Dueh.    The  groom-porters  ? 


14  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  I 

Bus,    Ay,  madam  ;  must  not  they  jadge  of  all  gamings  i' 
th'  Court? 
Duch.    You  talk  like  a  gamester.  105 

Guise.    Sir,  know  you  me  ? 
Bus.    My  lord? 

Guise.    I  know  not  you ;    whom  do  you  serve  ? 
Bus.    Serve,  my  lord  1 

Guiu.  Go  to,  companion,  your  courtship's  too  saucy,  no 
Bus.  [Aside]  Saucy  1  Companion  1  'Tis  the  Guise,  but 
yet  those  terms  might  have  been  spared  of  the  Guisard.  Com- 
panion I  He's  jealous,  by  this  light.  Are  you  blind  of  that 
side,  Duke  ?  I'll  to  her  again  for  that — ^Forth,  princely  mis- 
tress, for  the  honour  of  courtship.    Another  riddle  I  115 

Guise.    Cease  your  courtship^  or  by  heaven  I'll  cut  your 
throat 

Bus,  Cut  my  throat  ?  Cut  a  whetstone  1  Young  Accius 
Naevius,  do  as  much  with  your  tongue,  as  he  did  with  a  razor  : 
cut  my  throat  1  120 

Bar,    What  new-come  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. 

Bus,    Cut  my  throat !    I  would  the  King  feared  thy  cut-  125 
ting  of  his  throat  no  more  than  I  fear  thy  cutting  of  mine. 
Guise.    I'll  do  't,  by  this  hand. 

Bus.  That  hand  dares  not  do't. 

Y'ave  cut  too  many  throats  already.  Guise, 
And  robb'd  the  reaJm  of  many  thousand  souls,  130 

More  precious  than  thine  own.    Come,  madam,  talk  on. 
'Sfoot,  can  you  not  talk  ?    Talk  on,  I  say. 
Another  riddle  1 
Pyr.  Here's  some  strange  distemper. 

Bar,    Here's  a  sudden  transmigration  with  D'Ambois — 
out  of  the  knights'  ward  into  the  duchess'  bed.  135 

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. 
Guise.    Leave  your  courting.  140 

Bus,    I  wiU  not. — ^I  say,  mistress,  and  I  will  stand  unto  it, 
that  if  a  woman  may  have  three  servants,  a  man  may  have 
!  threescore  mistresses. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  15 

Guise.    Sinah,  I'll  have  you  whipped  out  of  the  Court  for 
this  insolence.  145 

Bus.    Whipped  ?    Such  another  syllable  out  a  th'  preseace* 
if  thou  dar'st  for  thy  dukedom. 

Guise.    Remember,  poltroon. 

Mons.     [To  Bussy.]    Pray  thee,  forbear. 

Bus.    Passion  of  death  1    Were  not  the  King  here,  he  i  $0 
should  strow  the  chamber  like  a  rush. 

Mans.    But  leave  courting  his  wife,  then. 

Bus.    I  wiU  not.    I'll  court  her  in  despite  of  him.    Not 
court  her  1 — Come,  madam,  talk  on,  fear  me  nothing. — 
[To  Guise]  Well  may'st  thou  drive  thy  master  from  the  Court,  155 
but  never  D'Ambois. 

Mons.  [Aside"]    His  great  heart  will  not  down,  'tis  like  Ihe 


That  partly  by  his  own  internal  heat, 

Partly  the  stars'  daily  and  nightly  motion. 

Their  heat  and  light,  and  partly  of  the  place  160 

The  divers  frames,  but  chiefly  by  the  moon. 

Bristled  with  surges,  never  will  be  won, 

(No,  not  when  th'  hearts  of  all  those  powers  are  buist) 

To  make  retreat  into  his  set^ed  home. 

Till  he  be  crown'd  with  his  own  quiet  foam.  165 

Hen.    You  have  the  mate.    Another  ? 

Guise.    No  more.  Flourish  short 

Exit  Guise,  after  him  the  King  \and\  Monsieur  whisperiirg 

Bar.  Why,  here's  the  lion,  scared  wi  th  the  throat  of  a  dung- 
hill cock ;  a  fellow  that  has  newly  shaked  off  his  shackles ; 
now  does  he  crow  for  that  victory.  170 

L'A  n.     'Tis  one  of  the  best  jigs  that  ever  was  acted. 

Pyr.    Whom  does  the  Guise  suppose  him  to  be»  txow  ? 

L*An.  Out  of  doubt,  some  new  denizened  lord,  and  thinks 
that  suit  newly  drawn  out  o'  th'  mercer's  books. 

Bar.    I  have  heard  of  a  fellow,  that  by  a  fixed  imagination  175 
looking  upon  a  bull-baiting,  had  a  visible  pair  of  horns  grew 
out  of  his  forehead,  and  I  believe  this  gallant,  overjoyed  witii 
the  conceit  oi  Monsieur's  cast  suit,  imagines  himself  to  be  the 
Monsieur. 

L'An.    Andwhynot?  asweliastheas8,stalkingintheUon'8  180 
case,  bare  himself  like  a  lion,  bra3ang  all  the  huger  beasts  out 
of  the  forest  ? 

Pyr.    Peace,  he  looks  this  way. 


16  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  I 

Bat.  Marry,  let  him  look,  sir,  what  will  you  aay  now  if 
the  Guise  be  gone  to  fetch  a  blanket  for  him  ?  185 

VAn.    Faith,  I  believe  it  for  his  honour  sake. 

Pyf.     But,  if  D'Ambois  carry  it  clean  ?    Eofeunt  Ladies. 

Bar.    True,  when  he  curvets  in  the  blanket. 

Pyr.    Ay,  marry,  sir. 

VAn.     'Sfoot,  see  how  he  stares  on's.  190 

Bar.    Lord  bless  us,  let's  away. 

Bus.  [To  Barrisor]  Now,  sir,  take  your  full  view,  how 
does  the  object  please  ye  ? 

Bar.  If  you  ask  my  opinion,  sir,  I  think  your  suit  fits  as 
well  as  if't  had  been  made  for  you.  195 

Bus.  So,  sir,  and  was  that  the  subject  of  your  ridiculous 
joUity  ? 

L'An.    What's  that  to  you,  sir  ? 

Bus.  Sir,  I  have  observed  all  your  fleerings  ;  and  resolve 
yourselves  ye  shall  give  a  strict  account  for't.  200 

Enter  Brisac  and  Melynell 

Bar.    Oh,  miraculous  jealousy !  Do  you  think  yourself 
such  a  singular  subject  for  laughter  that  none  can  fall  into  the  ' 
matter  of  our  merriment  but  you  ? 

L'An.  This  jealousy  of  yours,  sir,  confesses  some  close 
defect  in  yourself  that  we  never  dreamed  of.  205 

Pyr.  We  held  discourse  of  a  perfumed  ass,  that  being  dis- 
guised in  a  lion's  case,  imagined  himself  a  lion  :  I  hope  that 
touched  not  you. 

Bus.    So,  sir  ;  your  descants  do  marvellous  well  fit  this 
ground  ;  we  shall  meet  where  your  bufioonly  laughters  will  210 
cost  ye  the  best  blood  in  your  bodies. 

Bar.    For  life's  sake  let's  be  gone  ;  he'll  kill's  outright  else. 

Bus.  Go,  at  your  pleasures,  I'll  be  your  ghost  to  haunt 
you ;  and  ye  sleep  on't,  hang  me. 

L'An.    Go,  go,  sir  ;   court  your  mistress.  215 

Pyr.    And  be  advised  ;  we  shall  have  odds  against  you. 

Bus.  Tush,  valour  stands  not  in  number  1  I'll  maintain  it, 
that  one  man  may  beat  three  boys. 

Bris.  [To  the  Covaiier^     Nay,  you  shall  have  no  odds  of  him 
in  number,  sir  ;  he's  a  gentleman  as  good  as  the  proudest  of  220 
3rou,  and  ye  shall  not  wrong  him. 

Bar.    Not,  sir  ? 

Mel.  Not,  sir:  though  he  be  not  so  rich,  he's  a  better  man 
than  the  best  of  3rou ;  and  I  will  not  endure  it. 


Sc  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  17 

VAn,    Not  you,  sir  ?  225 

Bm.     No,  sir,  nor  I. 

Bus.  [To  Brisac  and  Mel3mell]  I  should  thank  you  for  this 
kindness,  if  1  thought  these  perfumed  musk-cats  (being  out  of 
this  privilege)  diirst  but  once  mew  at  us. 

Bar.    Does  your  confident  spirit  doubt  that,  sir  ?    Follow  230 
us  and  try. 

VAn.    Come,  sir,  we'll  lead  3^u  a  dance.  Ex$ufU 

FINIS  ACTUS  PRIMI. 


ACTUS    SECUNDI   SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Room  in  the  Courf] 
Henry,  Guise,  Montsurry,  [Beaumond]  and  Attendants 

Hen.    This  desperate  quarrel  sprung  out  of  their  envies 
To  D'Ambois'  sudden  bravery,  and  great  spirit. 

Guise.    Neither  is  worth  their  envy. 

Hen.  Less  than  either 

Will  make  the  gall  of  Envy  overflow  ; 

She  feeds  on  outcast  entrails  like  a  kite  ;  5 

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  kiU  her :  10 

Where  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  15 

That  passes  all  the  body's  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 ;  20 

A  wise  man  may  shun  her,  she  not  herself : 
Whithersoever  she  flies  from  her  harms. 
She  bears  her  foe  still  clasp'd  in  her  own  arms  ; 
And  therefore,  cousin  Guise,  let  us  avoid  her. 

C.D.W.  c 


x8  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  II 

Enter  Nuntius 

Nun.    What  Atlas  or  Olympus  lifts  his  head  25 

So  far  past  covert,  that  with  air  enough 
My  words  may  be  informed,  and  from  their  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.  30 

Hen.    Com'st  thou  from  D'Ambois  ? 

Nun.  From  him,  and  the  rest. 

His  friends  and  enemies  ;   whose  stem  fight  I  saw, 
And  heard  their  words  before  and  in  the  fray. 

Hen.     Relate  at  large  what  thou  hast  seen  and  heard. 

Nun.    I  saw  fierce  D'Ambois  and  bis  two  brave  friends    35 
Enter  the  field,  and  at  their  heels  their  foes ; 
Which  were  the  famous  soldiers,  Barrisor, 
L'Anou,  and  Pyrhot,  great  in  deeds  of  arms : 
All  which  arriv'd  at  the  evenest  piece  of  earth 
The  field  afforded,  the  three  challengers  40 

Tum'd  head,  drew  aU  their  rapiers, .  and  stood  rank'd  : 
When  face  to  face  the  three  defendants  met  them, 
Alike  prepared,  and  resolute  alike. 
Like  bonfires  of  contributory  wood 

Every  man's  look  shew'd,  fed  with  either's  spirit ;  45 

As  one  had  been  a  mirror  to  another. 
Like  forms  of  life  and  death,  each  took  from  other ; 
And  so  were  life  and  death  mix'd  at  their  heights. 
That  you  could  see  no  fear  of  death,  for  life. 
Nor  love  of  life,  for  death ;   but  in  their  brows  50 

P^rrho's  opinion  in  great  letters  shone ; 
That  life  and  death  in  all  respects  are  one. 

Hen.    Pass'd  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  55 

The  nine  3rears'  war)  held  up  his  brazen  lance 
For  signal  that  both  hosts  should  cease  from  arms. 
And  hear  him  speak :    so  Barrisor  (advis'd) 
Advanc'd  his  ziaiked  rapier  'twixt  both  sides, 
Ripp'd  up  the  quarrel,  and  compar'd  six  lives  60 

Then  laid  in  balance  with  six  idle  words ; 
Ofier'd  remission  and  contrition  too  ; 
Or  else  that  he  and  D'Ambois  might  conclude 
The  others'  dangers.     D'Ambois  lik'd  the  last ; 


Sc.  I]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  19 

But  Baniaor's  friends  (being  equally  engag'd  63 

In  the  main  qnanel)  never  would  expose 

His  life  alone  to  that  they  all  deserv'd. 

And  (for  the  other  offer  of  remission) 

D'Ambois  (that  like  a  laurel  put  in  fire 

Sparkled  and  spit)  did  much  much  more  than  acorn,  70 

That  his  wrong  should  incense  him  so  like  chafi. 

To  go  so  soon  out,  and  like  lighted  paper 

Approve  bis  spirit  at  once  both  fire  and  ashes ; 

So  drew  they  lots,  and  in  them  Fates  appointed 

That  Barrisor  should  fight  with  fiery  D'Ambois,  75 

Pyrhot  with  MelyneU,  with  Brisac  L'Anou : 

And  then  like  flame  and  powder  they  commix'd 

So  spritely  that  I  wish'd  they  had  been  spirits. 

That  the  ne'er-shutting  wounds  they  needs  must  open 

Might  as  they  open'd,  shut  and  never  kill :  80 

But  D'Ambois'  sword  (that  lighten'd  as  it  flew) 

Shot  like  a  pointed  comet  at  the  face 

Of  manly  Barrisor ;   and  there  it  stuck : 

Tbiice  pluck'd  he  at  it,  and  thrice  drew  on  thrusts. 

From  him  that  of  himself  was  free  as  fire ;  85 

Who  thrust  still  as  he  pluck'd,  yet  (past  belief) 
He  with  his  subtle  eye,  hand,  body,  scap'd ; 

At  last,  the  deadly-bitten  point  tugg'd  ofi, 

On  fell  his  yet  undaunted  foe  so  fiercely 

That  (only  made  more  horrid  with  his  wound)  90 

Great  D'Ambois  shrunk,  and  gave  a  little  ground ; 

But  soon  retum'd,  redoubled  in  his  danger. 

And  at  the  heart  of  Barrisor  seal'd  his  anger : 

Then,  as  in  Arden  I  have  seen  an  oak 

Long  shook  with  tempests,  and  his  lofty  top  95 

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  bis  curled  brows 

(Which  he  had  oft  wrapt  in  the  sky  with  storms) 

Should  stoop;  and  yet,  his  radical  fibres  burst,  100 

Storm-like  he  fell,  and  hid  the  fear-cold  earth : 

So  feU  stout  Barrisor,  that  had  stood  the  shocks 

Of  ten  set  battles  in  your  Highness'  war. 

Gainst  the  sole  soldier  of  the  world,  Navarre. 
Guiss.    Oh,  piteous  and  horrid  murther ! 
Beau,  Such  a  life.         105 

Methinks  had  metal  in  it  to  survive 


20  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  II 

An  age  of  men. 

Hen.  Such  often  soonest  end. 

[To  the  Nuntiua]    Thy  felt  report  calls  on  ;  we  long  to  know 
On  what  evente  the  other  have  arriv'd. 

Nun.     Sorrow  and  fury,  like  two  opposite  futnes  no 

Met  in  the  upper  region  of  a  cloud, 
At  the  report  made  by  this  worthy's  fall 
Brake  from  the  earth,  and  with  them  rose  Revenge, 
Ent'ring  with  fresh  powers  his  two  noble  friends  ; 
And  under  that  odds  fell  surcharg'd  Brisac,  115 

The  friend  of  D'Ambois,  befwe  fierce  L'Anou  ; 
Which  D'Ambois  seeing,  as  I  once  did  see, 
In  my  young  travels  through  Armenia, 
An  angry  unicorn  in  his  full  career 

Charge  with  too  swift  a  foot  a  jeweller,  120 

That  watch'd  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  reveng'd  L'Anou, 

Who  eyeing  th'  eager  point  borne  in  his  face,  125 

And  giving  back,  fell  back,  and  in  his  fall 
His  foe's  uncurbed  sword  stopp'd  in  his  heart: 
By  which  time  all  the  life-strings  of  the  tw'otber 
Were  cut,  and  both  fell,  as  their  spirits  flew 
Upwards,  and  still  hunt  honour  at  the  view:  130 

And  now,  of  all  the  six,  sole  D'Ambois  stood 
Untouch'd,  save  only  with  the  others*  hlood. 

Hen.    All  slain  outright  but  he  ? 

Nun.  An  slain  outright  but  he. 

Who  kneeling  in  the  warm  life  of  his  friends, 
(All  freckled  with  the  blood  his  rapier  rain'd)  135 

He  kiss'd  their  pale  lips,  and  bade  both  farewell : 
And  see  the  bravest  man  the  French  earth  bears. 

EnUr  Monsieur  and  D'Ambois  bare 

Bus.    Now  is  the  time ;  y'are  princely  vow'd,  my  friend ; 
Perform  it  princely,  and  obtain  my  pardon. 

Mons.    Else  heaven  forgive  not  me  ;  come  on,  brave  friend.  140 

[They  kneel  before  Henry.| 
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. 


Sc  I]  BUSSY  P^AMBOIS  ai 

Or  make  the  t'one  the  greater  with  the  t'other,  145 

(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. 

Hen,     Brother,  I  know  your  suit;   these  wilful  murthers 
Are  ever  past  our  pardon. 

Mons.  Manly  slaughter  150 

Should  never  bear  th'aocount  of  wilful  murther ; 
It  being  a  spice  of  justice,  where  with  life 
Ofiending  past  law  equal  life  is  laid 
In  equal  balance,  to  scourge  that  offence 
By  law  of  reputation,  which  to  men  155 

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. 

Hen.    This  would  make  every  man  that  thinks  him  wrong'd  160 
Or  is  ofiended,  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  ? 

Mans.    Oh,  no,  my  lord ;  it  would  make  cowards  fear     165 
To  touch  the  reputations  of  true  men ; 
When  only  they  are  left  to  imp  the  law, 
Justice  will  soon  distinguish  murtherous  minds 
From  just  revengers :  had  my  friend  been  slain. 
His  enemy  surviving,  he  should  die,  170 

Since  he  had  added  to  a  murther'd  fame 
(Which  was  in  his  intent)  a  murther'd  man ; 
And  this  had  worthily  been  wilful  murther  ; 
But  my  friend  only  sav'd  his  fame's  dear  hfe, 
Which  is  above  life,  taking  th'under  value,  175 

Which,  in  the  wrong  it  did,  was  forfeit  to  him ; 
And  in  this  fact  only  preserves  a  man 
In  his  uprightness,  worthy  to  survive 
Millions  of  such  as  murther  men  alive. 

Hen.    Well,  brother,  rise,  and  raise  your  friend  withal  180 
From  death  to  life ;  and,  D'Ambois,  let  your  life 
(Refin'd  by  passing  through  this  merited  death) 
Be  purg'd  from  more  such  foul  pdUution ; 
Nor  on  yoor  scape,  nor  valour,  more  presnxning 
To  be  9gf^  ^Q  dadi^. 

Bus,  My  lord,  285 


22  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  H 

I  loathe  as  much  a  deed  of  nnjust  death, 

As  law  itself  doth ;  and  to  tyraimize, 

Because  I  have  a  little  spirit  to  dare 

And  power  to  do,  as  to  be  tyranniz'd. 

This  ia  a  grace  that  (on  my  knees  redoubled),  190 

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, 

(OfEending  no  just  law),  let  no  law  make  195 

By  any  wrong  it  does,  my  life  her  slave : 

When  I  am  wrong'd,  and  that  law  fails  to  right  me. 

Let  me  be  king  myself  (as  man  was  made). 

And  do  a  justice  liiat  exceeds  the  law ; 

If  my  wrong  pass  the  power  of  single  valour  200 

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, 

OfEends  no  law,  and  is  a  king  indeed. 

Hen,    Enjoy  what  thou  entreat'st ;   we  give  but  ours.      205 

Bus.    What  you  have  given,  my  lord,  is  ever  yours. 
Exit  Rex  cum  Beau[mond,  Attendants,  Nuntius  and 
Montsurry] 

Guise.    Mort   Dieu,  who  would  have   pardon'd  such    a 
murther  ?  Exit 

MoHs.    Now  vanish  horrors  into  Court  attractions 
For  which  let  this  balm  make  thee  fresh  and  fair. 
And  now  forth  with  thy  service  to  the  Duchess,  210 

As  my  long  love  wiU  to  Montsuny's  Countess.  Exit 

Bus.    To  whom  my  love  hath  long  been  vow'd  in  heart. 
Although  in  hand  for  shew  I  held  the  Duchess. 
And  now  through  blood  and  vengeance,  deeds  of  height. 
And  hard  to  be  achiev'd,  'tis  fit  I  make  215 

Attempt  of  her  perfection ;  I  need  fear 
No  check  in  his  rivality,  since  her  virtues 
Are  so  renown'd,  and  he  of  all  dames  hated.  Exit 

[SCENA  SECUNDA 

A  Room  in  Montsurry's  House] 

Enter  Monsieur,  Tam3n:a  and  Peto  with  a  book 

Mons.    Pray  thee  regard  thine  own  good»  if  not  mine* 
And  cheer  my  love  for  that :  you  do  not  know 


Sa  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  23 

What  you  may  be  by  me,  nor  what  without  me ; 
I  may  have  power  t'advance  and  pull  down  any. 

Tarn.    That's  not  my  study;  one  way  I  am  sure  5 

Yon  shall  not  pull  down  me ;  my  husband's  height 
Is  crown  to  all  my  hopes ;  and  his  retiring 
To  any  mean  state,  shaU  be  my  aspiring: 
Mine  honour's  in  mine  own  hands,  spite  of  kings. 

Mons,    Honour,  what's  that  ?  Your  second  maidenhead :  xo 
And  what  is  that  ?  A  word :  the  word  is  gone. 
The  thing  remains :  the  rose  is  pluck'd,  the  stalk 
Abides ;  an  easy  loss  where  no  lack's  fotmd : 
Believe  it,  there's  as  small  lack  in  the  loss 
As  there  is  pain  i'th'  losing;  archen  ever  15 

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. 

Tarn.    Wise  wives  they  are  that  on  such  strings  depend,  20 
With  a  firm  husband  joining  a  loose  friend. 

Mons,    Still  you  stand  on  your  husband ;  so  do  all 
The  common  sex  of  you,  when  y'are  encounter'd 
With  one  ye  cannot  fancy :  all  men  know 
Yon  Hve  in  Court,  here,  by  your  own  election,  25 

Frequenting  all  our  common  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  30 

In  living  close  to  him,  get  you  from  Court; 
Yon  may  have  him  at  home ;  these  common  put-ofFs 
For  common  women  serve  :  '  My  honour  I  Husband  1 ' 
Dames  maritorious  ne'er  were  meritorious : 
Speak  plain,  and  say  '  I  do  not  like  you,  sir ;  35 

Y'are  an  ill-favour'd  fellow  in  my  eye ' ; 
And  I  am  answer'd. 

Tarn.  Then,  I  pray,  be  answer'd : 

For,  in  good  faith,  my  lord,  I  do  not  like  you 
In  that  sort  you  like. 

Mons.  Then  have  at  you  here  I 

Take  (with  a  politic  hand)  this  rope  of  pearl,  40 

And  though  you  be  not  amorous,  yet  be  wise : 
Take  me  for  wisdom ;  he  that  you  can  love 
Is  ne'er  the  further  from  you. 


24  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  II 

Tarn,  Now  it  comes 

So  ill  prepar'd,  that  I  may  take  a  poison 
Under  a  medicine  as  good  cheap  as  it ;  45 

I  will  not  have  it  were  it  worth  the  world. 

Mons.     Horror  of  death  1    Could  I  but  please  your  eye. 
You  would  give  me  the  like,  ere  you  would  loose  me : 
'  Honour  and  husband  ! ' 

Tarn,  By  this  light,  my  lord, 

Y'are  a  vile  fellow,  and  I'll  tell  the  King  50 

Your  occupation  of  dishonouring  ladies, 
And  of  his  Court :  a  lady  cannot  live 
As  she  was  bom,  and  with  that  sort  of  pleasure 
That  fits  her  state,  but  she  must  be  defam'd 
With  an  infamous  lord's  detraction :  55 

Who  would  endure  the  Court  if  these  attempts 
Of  open  and  profess'd  lust  must  be  borne  ? — 
Who's  there  ?     [To  Pero]    Come  on,  dame,  you  are  at  your 

book 
When  men  are  at  your  mistress ;    have  I  taught  you 
Any  such  waiting-wonuaii's  quality  ?  60 

Mons.    Farewell,  '  good  husband  1 ' 

Exit  Monsieur 

Tom,  Farewell,  wicked  lord  1 

Enter  Montsurry 

Mont.     Was  not  the  Monsieur  here  ? 

Tarn.  Yes,  to  good  purpose  ; 

And  your  cause  is  as  good  to  seek  him  too, 
And  haunt  his  company. 

Mont.  Why,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Tarn.    Matter  of  death,  were  I  some  husbands'  wife  :        65 
I  cannot  live  at  quiet  in  my  chamber 
For  opportunities  almost  to  rapes 
Offer'd  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  70 

Are  to  their  laws,  as  to  their  pardons  are 
Their  reservations,  after  Parliaments — 
One  quits  another :  form  gives  all  their  eaaeoce : 
That  prince  doth  high  in  virtue's  reckoning  stand 
That  will  entreat  a  vice,  and  not  conunand :  75 

So  far  bear  witii  him ;  should  another  man 


_i 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  25 

Trust  to  his  privilege,  he  should  trust  to  death : 

Take  comfort,  then,  my  comfort,  nay,  triumph 

And  crown  thyself ;  thou  part'st  with  victory : 

My  presence  is  so  only  dear  to  thee  80 

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  charg'd  it. 

Tom,  True,  my  lord,  and  never 

My  fruitless  love  shall  let  your  serious  honour ;  S^ 

Yet,  sweet  lord,  do  not  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. 

Tarn.    The  mom  shall  let  me  see  you  ?  90 

Mont.  With  the  sun 

I'll  visit  thy  more  comfortable  beauties. 

Tom.    This  is  my  comfort,  that  the  sun  hath  left 
The  whole  world's  beauty  ere  my  sun  leaves  me. 

M(»U.     'Tis  late  night  now,  indeed ;  farewell,  my  light  1 

Exit 

Tarn,    Farewell,  my  light  and  life  I    But  not  in  him,        95 
In  mine  own  dark  love  and  light  bent  to  another. 
Alas,  that  in  the  wane  of  our  affections 
We  should  supply  it  with  a  full  dissembling, 
In  iidiich  each  youngest  maid  is  grown  a  mother. 
Frailty  is  fruitful,  one  sin  gets  another:  xoo 

Our  loves  like  sparkles  are,  that  brightest  shine 
When  they  go  out ;  most  vice  shows  most  divine. 
[To  Pero]     Go,  maid,  to  bed  ;  lend  me  your  book,  I  pray  : 
Not,  like  yourself,  for  fonn ;  I'll  this  night  trouble 
None  of  your  services :  make  sure  the  doors,  105 

And  call  your  other  fellows  to  their  rest. 

Pero,  1  will.  [Aside.]    Yet  I  will  watch  to  know  why  you 
watch.  EfHi 

Tom.    Now  all  ye  peaceful  regents  of  the  night, 
Silently-gliding  exhalations. 

Languishing  winds,  and  murmuring  falls  of  waters,  no 

Sadness  of  heart  axul  ominous  secureness. 
Enchantments,  dead  sleeps,  all  the  friends  of  rest. 
That  ever  wrought  upon  the  life  ,of  man. 


36  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  II 

Extend  your  utmost  strengths,  and  this  charm'd  hour 

Fix  like  the  Centre  1  Make  the  violent  wheels  1 15 

Of  Time  and  Fortune  stand,  and  great  Existence 

(The  Maker's  treasury)  now  not  seem  to  be, 

To  all  but  my  approaching  friends  and  me  1 

They  come,  alas,  they  come !   Fear,  fear  and  hope. 

Of  one  thing,  at  one  instant,  fight  in  me :  120 

I  love  what  most  I  loathe,  and  cannot  live. 

Unless  I  compass  that  which  holds  my  death : 

For  life's  mere  death,  loving  one  that  loathes  me. 

And  he  I  love,  will  loathe  me,  when  he  sees 

I  fly  my  sex,  my  virtue,  my  renown,  125 

To  run  so  madly  on  a  man  unknown.         The  vault  opens 

See,  see,  a  vault  is  opening  that  was  never 

Known  to  my  lord  and  husband,  nor  to  any 

But  him  that  brings  the^  man  I  love,  and  me. 

How  shall  I  look  on  him  ?  How  shall  I  live,  130 

And  not  consume  in  blushes  ?     I  wiU  in. 

And  cast  m3rself  off,  as  I  ne'er  had  been. 

Exit 

Ascendit  Friar  and  D'Ambois 

Friar.    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 ;  135 

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  aU  that  know  is  to  a  man  a  knowledge : 
You  know,  besides,  that  our  affections'  storm,  140 

Rais'd  in  our  blood,  no  reason  can  reform. 
Though  she  seek  then  their  satisfaction 
(Which  she  must  needs,  or  rest  unsatisfied) 
Your  judgment  will  esteem  her  peace  thus  wrought, 
Nothing  less  dear  than  if  yourself  had  sought :  X45 

And  (with  another  colour,  which  my  art 
Shall  teach  you  to  lay  Km)  yourself  must  seem 
The  only  agent,  and  the  first  orb  move 
In  this  our  set  and  cunning  world  of  love. 

Bus.    Give  me  the  colour,  my  most  honour'd  father,    150 
And  trust  my  cunning  then  to  lay  it  on. 

Friar.    'Tis  this,  good  son;    Lord  Barrlsor  (whom  yon 
slew) 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D' AM60IS  27 

Did  love  her  deaily,  and  with  all  fit  means 

Hath  uig'd  his  acceptation,  of  all  which 

She  keeps  one  letter  written  in  his  blood :  155 

Yon  must  say  thus,  then,  that  you  heard  from  me 

How  much  hersell  was  touch'd  in  conscience 

With  a  report  (which  is,  in  tmtii,  dispersed) 

That  yoor  main  quarrel  grew  about  her  love, 

Lord  Barrisor  imagining  your  courtship  x6o 

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  nighf  s  depth 

For  the  more  dear  avoiding  of  ail  note  165 

Of  your  presumed  presence ;  and  witii  this 

(To  clear  her  hands  of  such  a  lover's  blood) 

She  will  so  kindly  thank  and  entertain  you, 

(Methinks  I  see  how),  ay,  and  ten  to  one. 

Show  you  the  confinnation  in  his  blood,  170 

Lest  3rou  should  think  report  and  she  did  feign» 

That  you  shall  so  have  circumstantial  means 

To  come  to  the  direct,  which  must  be  used ;  i< 

For  the  direct  is  crooked ;  love  comes  flying ; 

The  height  of  love  is  still  won  with  dett3ring.  175 

Bus.    Thanks,  honour'd  father. 

Friar.  She  must  never  know 

That  you  know  anything  of  any  love 
Sustain'd  on  her  part :  for,  learn  this  of  me. 
In  anything  a  woman  does  alone, 

If  she  dissemble,  she  thinks  'tis  not  done ;  180 

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  fraflty  sticks  in  them  beyond  their  sex,  185 

V^hich  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  afiections  by  it  bred.  190 

Stand  close  1  [Th^y  r^rs] 

Enter  Tamyra  with  a  book 
Torn.    Alas,  I  lear  my  Itrangeness  will  retire  him. 


28  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  XI 

II  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  195 

Goes  to  my  heart,  I'll  rather  die  than  seem 

Not  to  be  strange  to  that  I  most  esteem. 

Fria/r  [advancing].    Madam  I 

Tarn,  Ah  I 

Friar.  You  will  pardon  me,  I  hope. 

That  so  beyond  your  expectation. 

And  at  a  time  for  visitemts  so  unfit,  200 

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  105 

To  merit  as  free  wefeome  as  myself. 

Tarn.    Oh,  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 :  2x0 

And  y'are  to  blame.    What  though  my  lord  and  husband 
Lie  forth  to-night,  and  since  I  cannot  sleep     •  • 
When  he  is  absent  I  sit  up  to-night ; 
Though  aU  the  doors  are  sure,  and  aU  our  servants 
As  sure  bound  with  their  sleeps ;    yet  there  is  One  215 

That  wakes  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  220 

All  cause  that  other  think  not  ill  of  us. 

Bus.  [advancing]  Madam,  'tis  far  from  that ;  I  only  heard 
By  this  my  honour'd  father  that  your  conscience 
Made  some  deep  scruple  with  a  false  report 
That  Barrisor's  blood  should  something  touch  your  honour ;     225 
Since  he  imaqgin'd  I  was  courting  you. 
When  I  was  bold  to  change  wcutls  with  the  Dachess, 
And  therefore  made  his  quarrel,  .his  long  love 
And  service,  as  I  hear,  being  deeply  vow'd 
To  your  perfections ;    which  my  ready  presence,  230 

Presum'd  on  with  my  father  at  this  season 
For  the  more  care  of  your  sd  curious  honour,  ^. 

Can  well  resolve  your  conscience  is.  most  (alsp. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  29 

Tom.    And  is  it  therefore  that  yon  come,  good  8ir  ? 
Then  crave  I  now  your  pardon  and  my  father's,  235 

And  swear  your  presence  does  me  so  much  good, 
That  all  I  have  it  binds  to  your  requital : 
Indeed,  sir,  'tis  most  tme  that  a  report 
Is  spread,  alleging  that  his  love  to  me 

Was  reason  of  your  qnarrel ;  and  because  240 

You  shall  not  think  I  feign  it  for  my  glory 
That  he  importun'd  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  yon  now  a  thousand  fold.  245 

Exit  Tamyra  and  D^Ambois 

Fricnr.     May  it  be  worth  it  to  you,  honour'd  daughter. 

Descendit  Friar 

FINIS  ACTUS  SECUKDI 


ACTUS  TERTII  SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Room  in  Montsurry's  House] 
Enter  D'Ambois,  Tam3n:a,  with  a  Chain  of  Pearl 

Bus.    Sweet  mistress,  cease,  your  conscience  is  too  nice. 
And  Intes  too  hotly  of  the  Puritan  spice. 

Tarn.     Oh  my  dear  servant,  in  thy  close  embraces 
I  have  set  open  all  the  doors  of  danger 
To  my  encompass'd  honour,  and  my  life :  5 

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,  10 

So  weak  a  guilty :    oh,  the  dangerous  siege 
Sin  lays  about  us,  and  the  tyranny 
He  exercises  when  he  hath  expugn'd  I 
Like  to  the  horror  of  a  winter's  thunder, 
Mix'd  with  a  gushing  storm,  that  suffer  nothing  13 

To  stir  abroad  on  earth  but  their  own  rages. 
Is  Sin,  when  it  hath  gather'd  head  above  us : 
No  roof,  no  shelter  can  secure  us  so. 
But  he  will  drown  our  cheeks  in  fear  or  woe. 

Bus.     Sin  is  a  coward,  madam,  and  insults  20 

But  on  our  weakness,  in  his  truest  valour  : 


so  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  III 

And  8o  our  ignorance  tames  na,  that  we  let 

His  shadows  fright  ns :    and  like  empty  clouds. 

In  which  our  faulty  24>prehension8  forge 

The  forms  of  dragons,  lions,  elephants,  25 

When  they  hold  no  proportion,  the  sly  charms 

Of  the  witch  Policy  makes  him  like  a  monster 

Kept  only  to  show  men  for  servile  money : 

That  false  hag  often  paints  him  in  her  cloth 

Ten  times  more  monstrous  than  he  is  in  troth :  30 

In  three  of  us  the  secret  of  our  meeting 

Is  only  guarded,  and  three  friends  as  one 

Have  ever  been  esteem'd :    as  our  three  powers 

That  in  one  soul  are  as  one  united : 

Why  should  we  fear  then  ?    For  myself,  I  swear,  35 

Sooner  shall  torture  be  the  sire  to  pleasure, 

And  health  be  grievous  to  one  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)  40 

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. 

Tarn,    It  rests  as  all  kings'  seals  were  set  in  thee. 
Now  let  us  call  my  father,  whom  I  swear  45 

I  could  extremely  chide,  but  that  I  fear 
To  make  him  so  suspicious  of  my  love 
Of  which,  sweet  servant,  do  not  let  him  know 
For  all  the  world. 

Bus,  Alas,  he  will  not  think  it  I 

Tarn,    Come,  then. — ^Ho  1     Father,  ope,  and  take  your 
friend.  Ascendii  Friar    50 

Friar,    Now,  honour'd  daughter,  is  your  doubt  resolv'd  ? 

Tarn,    Ay,  father,  but  yon  went  away  too  soon. 

Friar.    Too  soon  ? 

Tarn,  Indeed  you  did,  you  should  have  stay'd  ; 

Had  not  your  worthy  friend  been  of  your  bringing. 
And  that  contains  all  laws  to  temper  me,  55 

Not  all  the  fearful  danger  that  besieg'd  us, 
Had  aw'd  my  throat  from  exclamation. 

Friar.    I  know  your  serious  disposition  well. 
Come,  son,  the  mom  comes  on. 

Bus.  Now,  honour'd  mistress. 

Till  farther  service  call,  all  bliss  supply  you  I  60 


Sc.  I]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  31 

Tarn.    And  yon  this  chain  of  pearl,  and  my  love  only  I 

Descsndit  Friar  and  D'Ambois 
It  is  not  I,  but  urgent  destiny. 
That  (as  great  statesmen  for  their  general  end 
In  politic  justice,  make  poor  men  offend) 
Enforceth  my  ofience  to  make  it  just.  65 

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  stiO-undone  labours,  that  lajrs  still 
Our  powers  to  it :    as  to  the  line,  the  stone,  70 

Not  to  the  stone,  the  line  should  be  opposed. 
We  cannot  keep  our  constant  course  in  virtue : 
What  is  alike  at  aU  parts  ?  Every  day 
Differs  from  other :    every  hour  and  minute ; 
Ay,  every  thought  in  our  false  clock  of  life,  75 

Oft-times  Inverts  the  whole  circumference : 
We  must  be  sometimes  one,  sometimes  another : 
Our  bodies  are  but  thick  clouds  to  our  souls, 
Through  which  they  cannot  shine  when  they  desire : 
When  all  the  stars,  and  even  the  sim  himself,  80 

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  order'd  rays. 
Disperse  our  passions'  fumes,  with  our  weak  labours,  85 

That  are  more  thick  and  black  than  all  earth's  vapours  ? 

Enter  Montsurry  I 

Moni.    Good  day,  my  love  1   What,  up  and  ready  too  1 

Tom.    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,        90 
From  being  at  peace  within  her  better  self  ? 
Or  how  could  sleep  forbear  to  seize  thine  eyes, 
When  he  might  challenge  them  as  his  just  prize  ? 

Tom.    I  am  in  no  power  earthly,  but  in  yours ; 
To  what  end  should  I  go  to  bed,  my  lord,  90 

That  wholly  miss'd  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  King's  affairs,  200 


32  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  II 

Shall  take  the  day  to  serve  them ;    every  night 
I'll  ever  dedicate  to  thy  delight. 

Tarn.    Nay,  good  my  lord,  esteem  not  my  desires 
Such  doters  on  their  humours  that  my  judgment 
Cannot  subdue  them  to  your  worthier  pleasure :  105 

A  wife's  pleas'd  husband  must  her  object  be 
In  all  her  acts,  not  her  soothed  fantasy. 

Moni,    Then  come,  my  love,  now  pay  those  rites  to  sleep 
Thy  fair  eyes  owe  him ;    shall  we  now  to  bed  ? 

Tarn,    Oh,  no,  my  lord;    your  holy  friar  says  no 

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  wUl  liberally  allow. 

Mont,    He's  a  most  learned  and  religious  man  ;  115 

Come  to  the  presence  then,  and  see  great  D'Ambois 
(Fortune's  proud  mushroom  shot  up  in  a  night) 
Stand  like  an  Atlas  under  our  King's  arm ; 
Which  greatness  with  him  Monsieur  now  envies 
As  bitterly  and  deadly  as  the  Guise.  120 

Tarn,    What  I    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  125 

Cannot  to  his  ambitious  end  effect. 
But  that,  quite  opposite,  the  King  hath  power. 
In  his  love  borne  to  D'Ambois,  to  convert 
The  point  of  Monsieur's  aim  on  his  own  breast. 
He  turns  his  outward  love  to  inward  hate  :  130 

A  prince's  love  is  like  the  lightning's  fume, 
Which  no  man  can  embrace  but  must  consume. 

Exeunt 


[SCENA  SECUNDA 
A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Henry,  D'Ambois,  Monsieur,  Guise,  Duchess,  Annable^ 

Charlotte,  Attendants. 

Hen.     Speak  home.  Bussy  I    Thy  impartial  words 
Are  like  brave  falcons  that  dare  truss  a  fowl 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  33 

Much  greater  than  themselves ;   flatterers  are  kites 

That  check  at  sparrows ;    thou  sfaalt  be  my  eagle, 

And  bear  my  thunder  underneath  thy  wings ;  5 

Truth's  words,  like  jewels,  hang  in  th'  ean  of  kings. 

Bus.    Would  I  might  live  to  see  no  Jews  hang  there 
Instead  of  jewels — sycophants,  I  mean. 
Who  use  Truth  like  the  Devil,  his  true  foe. 
Cast  by  the  angel  to  the  pit  of  feaxs,  lO 

And  bound  in  chains ;    Truth  seldom  decks  kings'  ean. 
Slave  Flattery  (like  a  rippier's  legs  roU'd  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  15 

Unfelt  he  strikes  into  the  brain  of  man, 
And  rageih  in  his  entrails  when  he  can. 
Worse  than  the  poison  of  a  red-hair'd  man.  ' 

i^Hgn.    Fly  at  him  and  his  brood  1  I  cast  tibee  off. 
And  once  more  give  thee  surname  of  mine  eagle.  20 

Bus.    I'U  make  you  sport  enough,  then :   let  me  have 
My  lucems  too,  or  dogs  inur'd  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,  25 

Which  is  the  voice  of  God)  tiiat  by  his  greatness 
Bombasts  his  private  roofs  with  public  riches ; 
That  affects  royalty,  rising  from  a  clapdish ; 
That  rules  so  much  more  by  his  suffering  Idng, 
That  he  makes  kings  of  his  subordinate  slaves :  30 

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)  35 

Keep  all  upright — ^let  me  but  hawk  at  him, 
I'U  play  the  vulture,  and  so  thump  his  liver. 
That,  like  a  huge  unlading  Ai;gosy, 
He  shall  confess  all,  and  you  then  may  hang  him. 
Show  me  a  clergyman,  that  is  in  voice  40 

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  rent    of  his  superfluous  cures 
Into  your  pheasants  and  your  partridges,  45 

OD.W.  D 


34  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  III 

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  rend'rer  of  each  man  his  own,  50 

The  scourge  of  rapine  and  eictortion. 

The  sanctuary  and  impregnable  defence 

Of  retired  learning  and  besieged  virtue) 

Into  a  harpy,  that  eats  all  but's  own. 

Into  the  damned  sins  it  punisheth ;  55 

Into  the  S3magogue  of  thieves  and  atheists, 

Blood  into  gold,  and  justice  into  lu&t — 

Let  me  but  hawk  at  him,  as  at  the  rest. 

He  shaU  confess  all,  and  you  then  may  hang  him. 

Enter  Montsurry,  Tamyra,  and  Pero 

Guise,    Where  will  you  find  such  game  as  you  would  hawk 
at?  60 

Bus,    I'll  hawk  about  your  house  for  one  of  them. 

Guise,    Come,  y'are  a  glorious  ruffian^  and  run  proud 
Of  the  King's  headlong  graces ;  hold  your  breath. 
Or,  by  that  poison'd  vapour,  not  the  King 
Shall  back  your  murtherous  valour  against  me.  65 

Bus.     I  would  the  King  would  make  his  presence  free 
But  for  one  bout  betwixt  us :  by  the  reverence 
Due  to  the  sacred  space  'twixt  kings  and  subjects. 
Here  would  I  make  thee  cast  that  popular  purple. 
In  which  thy  proud  soul  sits  and  braves  thy  sovereign.        yo 

Mons,    Peace,  peace,  I  pray  thee  peace. 

Bus,  Let  him  peace  first 

That  made  the  first  war. 

Mons.  He's  the  better  man. 

Bus.    And,  therefore,  may  do  worst  ? 

Mons.  He  has  more  titles. 

Bus.    So  Hydra  had  more  heads. 

Mons.  He's  greater  known. 

Bus.    His  greatness  is  the  people's ;    mine's  mine  own.     75 

Mons.    He's  nobl[ier]  bom. 

Bus.  He  is  not;  I  am  noble. 

And  noblesse  in  his  blood  hath  no  gradation. 
But  in  his  merit. 

Guise.  Th'art  not  nobly  bom. 

But  bastard  to  the  Cardinal  of  Ambois. 


Sc  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  35 

Bus,    Thou  liest,  proud  Guisard ;    let  me  fly,  my  lord.    80 

Hen.    Not  in  my  face,  my  eagle ;  violence  flies 
The  sanctuaries  of  a  prince's  eyes. 

Bus,    Still  shall  we  chide  and  foam  upon  this  bit  ? 
Is  the  Guise  only  great  in  faction  ? 

Stands  he  not  by  himself  ?     Proves  he  th'  opinion  83 

That  men's  souls  are  without  them  ?     Be  a  duke. 
And  lead  me  to  the  field. 

Guise.  Come,  follow  me. 

Hen.    Stay  them !    Stay,  D'Ambois  1    Cousin  Guise,  I 
wonder 
Your  honour'd  disposition  brooks  so  ill 

A  man  so  good,  that  only  would  uphold  90 

Man  in  his  native  noblesse,  from  whose  faU 
All  our  dissensions  rise ;  that  in  himself  ,  ^ 

(Without  the  outward  patches  of  our  frailty,  .  ^  ^ 

Riches  and  honour)  knows  he  comprehends 
Worth  with  the  greatest :  kings  had  never  borne  95 

Such  boundless  empire  over  other  men, 
Had  all  maintain'd  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,  100 

Been  tum'd  unjustly  to  the  hand  of  Fortune, 
Had  all  preserved  her  in  her  prime,  like  D'Ambois; 
No  envy,  no  disjunction  had  dissolved, 
Or  pluck'd  one  stick  out  of  the  golden  faggot 
In  which  the  world  of  Saturn  bound  our  lives,  X05 

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  combin'd  embracers  and  supporters.  no 

Bus.    'Tis  our  King's  motion,  and  we  shall  not  seem 
To  worst  eyes  womanish,  though  we  change  thus  Boon 
Never  so  great  grudge  for  his  greater  pleasure. 
,    Guise.    I  seal  to  that,  and  so  the  manly  freedom. 
That  you  so  much  profess,  hereafter  prove  not  X15 

A  bold  and  glorious  licence  to  deprave. 
To  me  his  hand  shall  hold  the  Hermean  virtue 
His  grace  affects,  in  which  submissive  sign 
On  this  his  sacred  right  hand,  I  lay  mine. 

Bus,     'Tis  well,  my  lord,  and  so  your  worthy  greatness      lao 


I 


36  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  III 

Decline  not  to  the  greater  insolence. 

Nor  make  yon  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)  125 

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  your  loves ; 

At  which,  fair  ladies,  I  entreat  your  presence ;  130 

And  hope  you,  madam  [to  the  Duchess],  will  take  one  carouse 
For  reconcilement  of  your  lord  and  servant. 

Duch.     If  I  should  fail,  my  lord,  some  other  lady 
Would  be  found  there  to  do  that  for  my  servant. 

Mons.    Any  of  these  here  ? 

Duch,  Nay,  I  know  not  that.  135 

Bus,     [To  Tamyra]    Think  your  thoughts  like  my  mis- 
tress, honour'd  lady  ? 

Tarn,     I  think  not  on  you,  sir;    y'are  one  I  know  not. 

Bus,    Cry  you  mercy,  madam  1 

Mont,  Oh,  sir,  has  she  met  yon  ? 

Exeunt  Henry,  D'Ambois,  [and]  Ladies. 

Mons,    What  had  my  bounty  drunk  when  it  rais'd  him  ? 

Guise.    Y'ave  stuck  us  up  a  very  worthy  flag,  140 

That  takes  more  wind  than  we  with  all  our  sails. 

Mons,    Oh,  so  he  spreads  and  flourishes. 

Guise.  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,  145 

So  Jovefs  great  ordinance  shall  be  here  implied 
To  strike  Mm  under  th'  Etna  of  his  pride : 
To  which  work  lend  your  hands,  and  let  us  cast 
Where  we  may  set  snares  for  his  ranging  greatness : 
I  think  it  best,  amongst  our  greatest  women :  150 

For  there  is  no  such  trap  to  catch  an  upstart 
As  a  loose  downfall ;    for,  you  know,  their  falls 
Are  th'  ends  of  all  men's  rising :    if  great  men 
And  wise  make  scapes  to  please  advantage[s] 
'Tis  with  a  woman  :    women,  that  worst  may,  155 

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  charm'd  mouths, 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  37 

We  may  see  all  the  close  scapes  of  the  Court. 

When  "the  most  royal  beast  of  chase,  the  hart,  z6o 

Being  old,  and  cunning  in  his  lairs  and  haunts. 

Can  never  be  discover'd  to  the  bow. 

The  piece,  or  hound,  yet  where,  behind  some  queach. 

He  breaks  his  gall,  and  rutteth  with  his  hind, 

The  place  is  mark'd,  and  by  his  venery  165 

He  still  is  taken.    Shall  we  then  attempt 

The  chiefest  mean  to  that  discovery  here, 

And  court  our  greatest  ladies'  chiefest  women 

With  shows  of  love  and  liberal  promises  ? 

'Tis  but  our  breath.     If  something  given  in  hand  170 

Sharpen  their  hopes  of  more,  'twill  be  well  ventur'd. 

Guise,    No  doubt  of  that ;  and  'tis  the  cunning'st  point 
Of  oar  devis'd  investigation. 

Mons.    I  have  broken 
The  ice  to  it  already  with  the  woman  175 

Of  your  chaste  lady,  and  conceive  good  hope 
I  shall  wade  thorough  to  some  wished  shore 
At  our  next  meeting. 

Mont.  Nay,  there's  small  hope  there. 

Guise.    Take  say  of  her,  my  lord,  she  comes  most  fitly. 

Enter  Charlotte,  Annable,  Pero 

Mons.    Starting  back  ?  180 

Guise.    Y'are  engaged,  indeed. 

Anna.    Nay,  pray,  my  lord,  forbear. 

McnU.    What,  skittish,  servant  ? 

AnnOn    No,  my  lord,  I  am  not  so  fit  for  your  service. 

Ch€iir.    Ftay  pardon  me  now,  my  lord ;  my  lady  expects 
me.  185 

Guise.    I'll  satisfy  her  expectation,  as  far  as  an  uncle  may. 

Mons.  Well  said,  a  spirit  of  courtship  of  all  hands  1 
Now,  mine  own  Pero,  hast  thou  remembered  me  for  the  dis- 
covery I  entreated  thee  to  make  of  thy  mistress  ?  Speak 
boldly,  and  be  sure  of  all  things  I  have  sworn  to  thee.        190 

Pero.  Building  on  that  assurance,  my  lord,  I  may  ^peak 
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  we  reach  our  objects  ;   forth,  I  195 
beseech  thoou 


38  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  III 

Pero.  To  tell  you  truth,  my  lord,  I  have  made  a  strange 
discovery. 

Mons,  Excellent !  Pero,  thou  reviv'st  me  ;  may  I  sink 
quick  to  perdition  if  my  tongue  discover  it.  '  200 

Pero.  'Tis  thus,  then  :  this  last  night,  my  lord  lay  forth, 
and  I,  watching  my  lady's  sitting  up,  stole  up  at  midnight 
from  my  pallet,  and  (having  before  made  a  hole  both  through 
the  waU  and  arras  to  her  inmost  chamber)  I  saw  D'Ambois 
and  herself  reading  a  letter.  205 

Mons,    D'Ambois  ? 

Pero.    Even  he,  my  lord. 

Mans.    Dost  thou  not  dream,  wench  ? 

Pero.    I  swear  he  is  the  man. 

Mons.  [Aside]  The  devil  he  is,  and  thy  lady  his  daml  210 
Why,  this  was  the  happiest  shot  that  ever  flew ;  the  just 
plague  of  hypocrisy  levelled  it.  Oh,  the  infinite  regions 
betwixt  a  woman's  tongue  and  her  heart  1  Is  this  our  Goddess 
of  chastity  ?  I  thought  I  could  not  be  so  slighted,  if  she  had 
not  her  fraught  besides,  and  therefore  plotted  this  with  her  215 
woman,  never  dreaming  of  D'Ambois. — 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  this  conveyance  ?  Or,  all  the  doors  being  made 
sure,  how  should  his  conveyance  be  made  ?  220 

Pero.  Nay,  my  lord,  that  amazes  me  ;  I  cannot  by  any 
study  so  much  as  guess  at  it.  s\ 

Mons.    Well,  let's  favour  our  apprehensions  with  forbear- 
ing that  a  little ;  for,  if  my  heart  were  not  hooped  with  ada- 
mant, the  conceit  of  this  would  have  burst  it.    But  hark  225 
thee.  Whispers    [to  Pero.] 

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  ? 

Anna.    No,  my  lord  ;  D'Ambois  n^lects  her,  as  she  takes  230 
it,  and  is  therefore  suspicious  that  either  your  lady,  or  the 
Lady  Beaupr6,  hatii  closely  entertained  him. 

Mont.  By'r  lady,  a  likely  suspicion,  and  very  near  the 
life, — especially  of  my  wife. 

Mons.     [Aside  to  Pero]    Come,  we'll  disguise  all    with  235 
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  from  her  wind-pipe. 

Guise.  Here's  one,  I  think,  has  swallowed  a  porcupine, 
she  casts  pricks  from  her  tongue  so.  240 


Sc  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  39 

Mont,  And  here's  a  peacock  seems  to  have  devoured  one 
of  the  Alps,  she  has  so  sweUing  a  spirit,  and  is  so  cold  of  her 
kindness. 

Char.    We  are  no  windfalls,  my  lord ;    ye  must  gather 
as  with  the  ladder  of  matrimony,  or  we'll  hang  till  we  be  245 
rotten. 

Mans.  Indeed,  thaf  s  the  way  to  make  ye  right  open-arses. 
But,  alas,  ye  have  no  portions  fit  for  such  husbands  as  we 
wish  yon. 

P&ro,    Portions,  my  lord  ?  yes,  and  sach  portions  as  yonr  250 
principality  cannot  purchase. 

Mans.    What,  woman  I   what  are  those  portions  ? 

P9ra.    Riddle  my  riddle,  my  lord. 

Mans.  Ay,  marry,  wench,  I  think  thy  portion  is  a  right 
riddle ;    a  man  shall  never  find  it  out.     But  let's  hear  it.  255 

Pera.    You  shall,  my  lord. 

Whafs  that,  that  being  most  rare's  most  cheap  ? 

That  when  you  saw,  you  never  reap? 

That  when  it  grows  most,  most  you  in  it; 

And  still  you  lose  it  when  you  win  it?  260 

That  when  'tis  commonest,  *tis  dearest. 

And  when  *Hs  farthest  aff,  'tis  nearest^ 

Mans.    Is  this  your  great  portion  ? 

Pera.    Even  this,  my  lord. 

Mans.    Believe  me,  I  cannot  riddle  it.  265 

Pera.  No,  my  lord  :  'tis  my  chastity,  which  you  shall 
neither  riddle  nor  fiddle. 

Mans.  Your  chastity  ?  Let  me  begin  with  the  end  of  it ; 
how  is  a  woman's  chastity  nearest  a  man  when  'tis  furthest 
oflE?  270 

Pera.  Why,  my  lord,  when  you  cannot  get  it,  it  goes  to  th' 
heart  on  you  ;  and  that,  I  think,  comes  most  near  you  :  and 
I  am  sure  it  shall  be  far  enough  ofi ;  and  so  we  leave  you 
to  our  mercies.  Exeunt  Women 

Mans.     Farewell,  riddle  I  275 

Guise.    Farewell,  medlar  t 

Mont.    Farewell,  winter  plum  I 

Mans.  Now,  my  lords,  what  fruit  of  our  inquisition  ? 
Feel  you  nothing  budding  yet  ?  Speak,  good  my  lord 
Montsurry.  280 

Mont.    Nothing  but  this  :  D' Ambois  is  thought  negligent  in 


40  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  III 

observing  the  Duchess,  and  therefore  she  is  suspicious  that 
your  niece  or  my  wife  closely  entertains  hixn. 

Mons.    Your  wife,  my  lord  ?     Think  you  that  possible  ? 

Mont.    Alas,  I  know  she  flies  him  like  her  last  hour.  285 

Mans,    Her  last  hour  ?    Why,  that  comes  upcm  her  the 
more  she  flies  it.     Does  D'Ambois  so,  think  you  ? 

Mont.    That's  not  worth  the  answering.     'Tis  miraculous 
to  think  with  what  monsters  women's  imaginations  engross 
them  when  they  are  once  enamoured,  and  what  wonders  they  290 
will  work  for  their  satisfaction.    They  will  make  a  sheep 
valiant,  a  lion  fearful. 

Mons.    And  an  ass  confident.    Well,  my  lord,  more  will 
come  forth  shortly ;    get  you  to  the  banquet. 

Guise.    Come,  my  lord ;   I  have  the  blind  side  of  one  of  295 
them.  Exit  Guise  cum  Montsurry 

Mons,    O  the  unsounded  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,  300 

Which  still  are  hid  in  dark  and  standuig  fogs. 
Where  never  day  shines,  nothing  ever  grows. 
But  weeds  and  poisons  that  no  statesman  knows  2 
Not  Cerberus  ever  saw  the  damned  nooks 
Hid  with  the  veils  of  women's  virtuous  looks.  305 

But  what  a  doud  of  sulphur  have  I  drawn 
Up  to  my  bosom  in  this  dangerous  secret ! 
Which  if  my  haste  with  any  spark  should  light 
Ere  D'Ambois  were  engag'd  in  some  sure  plot, 
I  were  blown  up ;    he  would  be,  sure,  my  death.  310 

Would  I  had  never  known  it,  for  before 
I  shall  persuade  th'  importance  to  Montsurry, 
And  nu^e  him  with  some  studied  stratagem 
Train  D'Ambois  to  his  wreak,  his  maid  may  tell  it ; 
Or  I  (out  of  my  fiery  thirst  to  play  315 

\^^th  the  fdl  tiger,  up  in  daikness  tied. 
And  give  it  some  light)  make  it  quite  break  loose. 
I  fear  it  afore  heaven,  and  will  not  see 
D'Ambois  again,  till  I  have  told  Montsurry, 
And  set  a  snare  with  him  to  free  my  fears.  320 

Who's  there  ? 

Enter  MaM 

Maf,  My  lord  ? 

Mans.  Go  call  the  Count  Montsurry, 


Sc  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  41 

And  make  the  doozs  fast ;    I  will  speak  with  none 
Till  he  come  to  me. 

Maf.  Well,  my  lord.  Ejaturus 

Mans.  Or  else 

Send  you  some  other,  and  see  all  the  doors 
Made  safe  yomself,  I  pray ;    haste,  fly  about  it.  325 

Maf.    You'll  speak  with  none  but  with  the  Count  Mont* 
suny  ? 

Mons.    With  none  but  he,  except  it  be  the  Guise. 

Maf.    See,  even  by  this  there's  one  exception  more  ; 
Your  Grace  must  be  more  firm  in  the  command. 
Or  else  shall  I  as  weakly  execute.  330 

The  Guise  shall  speak  with  you  ? 

Mons,  He  shall,  I  say. 

Maf.    And  Count  Montsuny  ? 

Mons.  Ay,  and  Count  Montsuny. 

Maf.    Your  Grace  must  pardon  me,  that  I  am  bold 
To  urge  the  clear  and  full  sense  of  your  pleasure ; 
Which  whensoever  I  have  known,  I  hope  335 

Your  Grace  will  say  I  hit  it  to  a  hair. 

Mons.    You  have. 

Maf.  I  hope  so,  or  I  would  be  glad — 

Mans.    I  pray  thee  get  thee  gone  ;  thou  art  so  tedious 
In  the  strict  form  of  all  thy  services 

That  I  had  better  have  one  negligent.  340 

You  hit  my  pleasure  well,  when  D'Ambois  hit  you ; 
Did  you  not,  think  you  ? 

Maf.  D'Ambois  ?  Why,  my  lord — 

Mans.    I  pray  thee  talk  no  more,  but  shut  the  doors : 
Do  what  I  charge  thee. 

Maf.  I  will,  my  lord,  and  yet 

I  would  be  glad  the  wrong  I  had  of  D'Ambois —  345 

Mans.    Precious,  then  it   is   a  fate  that  plagues  me 
In  this  man's  foolery!    I  may  be  murther'd 
While  he  stands  on  protection  of  his  folly. 
Avaunt  about  thy  charge  1 

Maf.  I  go,  my  lord. 

[Asids.]  1  had  my  head  broke  in  his  faithful  service ;  350 

I  had  no  suit  the  more,  nor  any  thanks. 
And  yet  my  teeth  must  still  be  hit  with  D'Ambois — 
IVAmbob,  my  lord,  shall  know — 

Mans.  The  devil  and  D'Ambois  I 

EMit  MafE6 


42  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  III 

How  am  I  tortur'd  with  this  trusty  fool ! 

Never  was  any  curious  in  his  place  355 

To  do  things  justly,  but  he  was  an  ass ; 

We  cannot  find  one  trusty  that  is  witty. 

And  therefore  bear  their  disproportion. 

Grant,  thou  great  star  and  angel  of  my  life, 

A  sure  lease  of  it  but  for  some  few  days,  360 

That  I  may  dear  my  bosom  of  the  snake 

I  cherish' d  there,  and  I  will  then  defy 

All  check  to  it  but  Nature's,  and  her  altars 

Shall  crack  witii  vessels  crown'd  with  every  liquor 

Drawn  from  her  highest  and  most  bloody  humours.  365 

I  fear  him  strangely,  his  advanced  valour 

Is  like  a  spirit  rais'd  without  a  circle. 

Endangering  him  that  ignorantly  rais'd  him, 

And  for  whose  fury  he  hath  learnt  no  limit. 

Enter  Maff6  hastily 

Maf,     I  cannot  help  it :    what  should  I  do  more  ?  370 

As  I  was  gathering  a  fit  guard  to  make 
My  passage  to  the  doors,  and  the  doors  sure. 
The  man  of  blood  is  enter'd. 

Mons.  Rage  of  death  ! 

If  I  had  told  the  secret,  and  he  knew  it. 
Thus  had  I  been  endanger'd.  375 

Enter  D'Ambois. 

My  sweet  heart  1 
How  now,  what  leap'st  thou  at  ? 

Bus,  O  royal  object  I 

Mons,  Thou  dream'st  awake  ;  object  in  th'  empty  air  ? 

Bus.    Worthy  the  brows  of  Titan,  worth  his  chair. 

Mons.    Pray  thee,  what  mean'st  thou  ? 

Bus.  See  you  not  a  cxown 

Impale  the  forehead  of  the  great  King  Monsieur  ?  380 

Mons.    Oh,  fie  upon  thee  1 

Bus,  Prince,  that  is  the  subject 

Of  all  these  your  retir'd  and  sole  discourses. 

Mons.    Wilt  thou  not  leave  that  wrongful  supposition  ? 

Bus.    Why  wrongful  to  suppose  the  doubtless  right 
To  the  succession  worth  the  thinking  on  ?  385 

Mons.    Well,  leave  these  jests  1    How  I  am  overjoy'd 
With  thy  wish'd  presence,  and  how  fit  thou  com'st. 
For,  of  mine  honour,  I  was  sending  for  thee. 


Sc  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  43 

Bus.    To  what  end  ? 

Mons.  Only  for  thy  company, 

Which  I  have  still  in  thought ;    but  that's  no  pa3anent      390 
On  thy  part  made  with  personal  appearance. 
Thy  absence  so  long  suffer'd  oftentimes 
Pat  me  in  some  little  doubt  thou  dost  not  love  me. 
Wilt  thou  do  one  thing  therefore  now  sincerely  ? 

Bus.    Ay,  anything,  but  killing  of  the  King.  395 

Mons.    StiU  in  that  discord,  and  ill-taken  note  ? 
How  most  unseasonable  thou  playest  the  cuckoo. 
In  this  thy  fall  of  friendship  I 

Bus,  Then  do  not  doubt. 

That  there  is  any  act  within  my  nerves, 
But  killing  of  the  King,  that  is  not  yours«  400 

Mons.    I  will  not,  then  ;   to  prove  which  by  my  love 
Shown  to  thy  virtues,  and  by  all  fruits  else 
Already  sprung  from  that  still-flourishing  tree, 
With  whatsoever  may  hereafter  spring, 

I  charge  thee  utter  (even  with  all  the  freedom  405 

Both  of  thy  noble  nature  and  thy  friendship) 
The  full  and  plain  state  of  me  in  thy  thoughts. 

Bus.    What,  utter  plainly  what  I  think  of  you  ? 

Mons.     Plain  as  truth  I 

Bus.    Why,    this   swims    quite  against   the   stream    ol 
greatness ;  410 

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. 

Bus.    Since  you  aflect  it  in  such  serious  terms,  415 

If  yourself  first  will  tell  me  what  yon  think 
As  freely  and  as  heartily  of  me, 
I'll  be  as  open  in  my  thoughts  of  you. 

Mons.    A  bargain,  of  mine  honour  I  And  make  this. 
That  prove  we  in  our  full  dissection  420 

Never  so  foul,  live  still  the  sounder  friends. 

Bus.    What  else,  sir  ?    Come,  pay  me  home  ;  I'll  bide  it 
bravely. 

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  425 

The  ravenous  wolf  of  thy  most  cannibal  valour, 
(Rather  than  not  employ  it)  thou  wouldst  turn 


44  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  lit 

Hackster  to  any  whore,  slave  to  a  Jew, 

Or  English  nsurer,  to  force  possessions 

(And  cut  men's  throats)  of  mortgaged  estates ;  430 

Or  thou  wouldst  tire  thee  like  a  tinker's  strompet. 

And  murther  market-folks  ;  quarrel  with  sheep. 

And  run  as.  mad  as  Ajax  ;   serve  a  butcher ; 

Do  anything  but  killing  of  the  King : 

That  in  thy  valour  th'art  like  other  naturals  435 

That  have  strange  gifts  in  nature,  but  no  soul 

Diffus'd  quite  through,  to  make  them  of  a  piece. 

But  stop  at  humours,  that  are  more  absurd. 

Childish,  and  villanous  than  that  hackster,  whore, 

Slave,  cut-throat,  tinker's  bitch,  compar  'd  before  ;  440 

And  in  those  humours  wouldst  envy,  betray. 

Slander,  blaspheme,  change  each  hour  a  religion. 

Do  anjrthing,  but  killing  of  the  King : 

That  in  thy  valour  (which  is  still  the  dunghill. 

To  which  hath  reference  all  filth  in  thy  house)  445 

Th'art  more  ridiculous  and  vain-glorious 

Than  any  mountebank,  and  impudent 

Than  any  painted  bawd  ;   which  not  to  soothe. 

And  glorify  thee  like  a  Jupiter  Hammon, 

Thou  eat'st  thy  heart  in  vinegar,  and  thy  gall  450 

Turns  all  thy  blood  to  poison,  which  is  cause 

Of  that  toad-pool  that  stands  in  thy  complexion, 

And  makes  thee  (with  a  cold  and  earthy  moisture. 

Which  is  the  dam  of  putrefaction. 

As  plague  to  thy  damn'd  pride)  rot  as  thou  liv'st,  455 

To  study  calumnies  and  treacheries. 

To  thy  friends'  slaughters  like  a  screech-owl  sing» 

And  to  all  mischiefs,  but  to  kill  the  King. 

Bus.    So  !  Have  you  said  ? 

Mons.  How  think'st  thou  ?    Do  I  flatter  ? 

Speak  I  not  like  a  trusty  friend  to  thee  ?  460 

Bus.    That  ever  any  man  was  blest  withal ; 
So  here's  for  me  !    I  think  you  are  (at  worst) 
No  devil,  since  y'are  like  to  be  no  king ; 
Of  which,  with  any  friend  of  3rours,  I'U  lay 
This  poor  stiUado  here,  gainst  all  the  stars,  465 

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  murthenng  pieoe,  making  lanes  in  armies. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  45 

The  first  man  of  a  rank,  the  whole  rank  falling)  470 

If  yon  have  wrong'd  one  man,  you  are  so  far 
From  making  him  amends,  that  all  his  race. 
Friends,  and  associates  fall  into  your  chase : 
That  y'are  for  perjuries  the  very  prince 

Of  all  intelligencers  ;   and  3rour  voice  475 

Is  like  an  eastern  wind,  that,  where  it  flies. 
Knits  nets  of  caterpillars,  with  which  yon  catch 
The  prime  of  all  the  fruits  the  kingdom  yields 
That  your  political  head  is  the  curs'd  fount 
Of  all  the  violence,  rapine,  cruelty,  480 

Tyranny,  and  atheism  flowing  through  the  realm : 
That  y'ave  a  tongue  so  scandalous,  'twill  cut 
The  purest  crystal ;   and  a  breath  that  will 
Kill  to  that  wall  a  spider  ;   you  will  jest 
With  God,  and  your  soul  to  the  Devil  tender  ;  485 

For  lust  kiss  horror,  and  with  death  engender ; 
That  your  foul  body  is  a  Lemean  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  490 

When  Clotho  slept,  and  let  her  breathing  rock 
Fall  in  the  dirt ;   and  Lachesis  still  draws  it, 
Dipping  her  twisting  fingers  in  a  bowl 
Defil'd,  and  crown'd  with  virtue's  forced  soul : 
And  lastly  (which  I  must  for  gratitude  49$ 

Ever  remember),  that  of  all  my  height 
And  dearest  life  you  are  the  only  spring. 
Only  in  royal  hope  to  kill  the  King. 
MoHs.    Why,  now  I  see  thou  lovest  me  ;  come  to  the  ban- 
quet. Ex0unt 

FINIS  ACTX7S  TBRTII. 


ACTUS  QUARTI  SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Room  in  the  Coutt] 

Heniy,  Monsieur  with  a  letter.  Guise,  Montsinry,  Bussy, 
Elenor,  Tamyra,  Beaupr6.  Pero,  Charlotte,  Annable, 
Pyra,  with  four  Pages. 

Hen.    Ladies,  ye  have  not  done  our  banquet  nght, 
Nor  look'd  upon  it  with  those  cheerful  rays 
That  latdy  tum'd  your  breaths  to  floods  of  gold ; 
Your  looks,  methinks,  are  not  drawn  out  with  thoughts 


46  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  IV 

So  clear  and  free  as  heretofore,  but  foul,  5 

As  if  the  thick  complexions  of  men  '.; 

Govem'd  within  them.  'Z'\ 

Bus.  'Tib  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   '  10 

Or  glass  to  show  them  how  they  wax  and  wane, 
But  in  her  height  and  motion  likewise  bears 
Imperial  influences  that  conmiand 
In  all  their  powers,  and  make  them  wax  and  wane ; 
So  women,  that  (of  all  things  made  of  nothing)  15 

Are  the  most  perfect  idols  of  the  moon, 
(Or  still-unwean'd  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  :  20 

So  then  they  rule  in  men,  not  men  in  them. 

Mons.    But  here  the  moons  are  changed,  (as  the  King  notes) 
And  either  men  rule  in  them,  or  some  power 
Beyond  their  voluntary  faculty, 
For  nothing  can  recover  their  lost  faces.  25 

Mont,    None  can  be  always  one  :  our  griefs  and  J03rs 
Hold  several  sceptres  in  us,  and  have  times 
For  their  divided  empires :    which  grief  now  in  them 
Doth  prove  as  proper  to  his  diadem. 

Bus.    And  griefs  a  natural  sickness  of  the  blood,  30 

That  time  to  part  asks,  as  his  coming  had ; 
Only  slight  fools,  griev'd,  suddenly  are  glad ; 
A  man  may  say  t'  a  dead  man,  '  Be  reviv'd,' 
As  well  as  to  one  sorrowful,  '  Be  not  griev'd.' 
And  therefore,  princely  mistress,  [To  the  Duchess]  in  all  wars     35 
Against  these  base  foes  that  insult  on  weakness, 
And  still  fight  hous'd  behind  the  shield  of  Nature, 
Of  privilege,  law,  treachery,  or  beastly  need. 
Your  servant  cannot  help ;    authority  here 
Goes  with  corruption,  something  like  some  States  40 

That  back  worst  men  :    valour  to  them  must  creep 
That,  to  themselves  left,  would  fear  him  asleep. 

Duck.    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  thoughta  ?• 


Sc.  I]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  47 

Tarn.    Methinks  the  man  hath  answer'd  for  us  well. 

Mans.    The  man  ?  Why,  madam,  d'ye  not  know  his  name  ? 

Tarn.    Man  is  a  name  of  honour  for  a  king : 
Additions  take  away  from  each  chief  thing.  50 

The  school  of  modesty  not  to  learn  learns  dames : 
They  sit  in  high  forms  there,  that  know  men's  names. 

Mons.  [To  Bnssy]  Hark,  sweetheart,  here's  a  bar  set  to 
yoor  valour ! 
It  cannot  enter  here,  no,  not  to  notice 

Of  what  your  name  is ;  your  great  eagle's  beak  55 

(Should  you  fly  at  her)  had  as  good  encounter 
An  Albion  cliff,  as  her  more  craggy  liver. 

Bus.    I'll  not  attempt  her,  sir  ;  her  sight  and  name 
(By  which  I  only  know  her)  doth  deter  me. 

Hen.    So  they  do  all  men  else. 

Mans.  You  would  say  so  60 

If  you  knew  all. 

7am.  Knew  all,  my  lord  ?    What  mean  you  ? 

Mons.    All  that  I  know,  madam. 

Tom.  That  you  know  I  Speak  it. 

Mans.    No,  'tis  enough,  I  feel  it. 

H&n.  But,  methinks 

Her  coiuiahip  is  more  pure  than  heretofore ; 
True  courtiers  should  be  modest,  and  not  nice,  65 

Bold,  but  not  impudent,  pleasure  love,  not  vice. 

Mons.  Sweetheart,  come  hither  !  What  if  one  should  make 
Horns  at  Montsurry  ?  Would  it  not  strike  him  jealous 
Through  all  the  proofs  of  his  chaste  lady's  virtues  ? 

Bus.    If  he  be  wise,  not.  70 

Mons.    What  ?    Not  if  I  should  name  the  gardener 
That  I  would  have  him  think  hath  grafted  him  ? 

Bus.    So  the  large  licence  that  your  greatness  uses 
To  jest  at  all  men,  may  be  taught  indeed 
To  make  a  difference  of  the  grounds  you  play  on,  75 

Both  in  the  men  you  scandal,  and  the  matter. 

Mans.    As  how  ?  As  how  ? 

Bus.  Perhaps  led  with  a  train. 

Where  you  may  have  your  nose  made  less  and  slit. 
Your  eyes  thrust  out. 

Mans.  Peace,  peace,  I  pray  thee  peace. 

Who  dares  do  that  ?  The  brother  of  his  King  ?  80 

Bus.    Were  your  King  brother  in  you ;    all  your  powers 
(Stietch'd  in  the  arms  of  great  men  and  their  bawds). 


48  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  IV 

Set  close  down  by  you ;    all  your  stoimy  laws 

Spouted  with  lawyers'  mouths,  and  gushing  blood, 

Like  to  so  many  torrents;    all  your  glories  85 

(Making  you  terrible,  like  enchanted  flames) 

Fed  with  bare  cockscombs  and  with  crooked  hams. 

All  your  prerogativeSp  your  sdiames  and  tortures; 

All  daring  heaven,  and  opening  hell  about  you — 

Were  I  the  man  ye  wrong'd  so  and  provok'd,  90 

Though  ne'er  so  much  beneath  you,  like  a  box-tree 

I  would,  out  of  the  roughness  of  my  root, 

Ram  hardness  in  my  lowness  and,  like  Death 

Mounted  on  earthquakes,  I  would  trot  through  all 

Honours  and  horrors,  thorough  foul  and  fair,  95 

And  from  your  whole  strength  toss  you  into  the  air. 

Mons.    Go,  th'art  a  devil  I  Such  another  ^irit 
Could  not  be  still'd  from  all  th'  Armenian  dragons. 

0  my  love's  glory,    heir  to  all  I  have 

(That's  all  I  can  say,  and  that  all  I  swear)  100 

If  thou  outlive  me,  as  I  know  thou  must. 

Or  else  hath  Nature  no  proportion'd  end 

To  her  great  labours ;   she  hath  breathed  a  mind 

Into  thy  entrails,  of  desert  to  swell 

Into  another  great  Augustus  Caesar,  105 

Oigans  and  faculties  fitted  to  her  greatness; 

And  should  that  perish  like  a  common  spirit. 

Nature's  a  courtier  and  regards  no  merit. 

Hen.    Here's  nought  but  whispering  with  us  ;  like  a  calm 
Before  a  tempest,  when  the  silent  air  no 

Lays  her  soft  ear  close  to  the  earth  to  hearken 
For  that  she  fears  steals  on  to  ravish  her; 
Some  fate  doth  join  our  ears  to  hear  it  coming. 
Come,  my  brave  eagle,  let's  to  covert  fly ; 

1  see  Almighty  £ther  in  the  smoke  115 
Of  all  his  clouds  descending,  and  the  sky 

Hid  in  the  dim  ostents  of  tragedy. 

Exit  Henry  with  D'Ambois  and  Ladies 
Guise   [aside  to  Monsieur].    Now  stir  the  humour,  and 

begin  the  brawl. 
Mont,    The  King  and  D'Ambois  now  are  grown  all  one. 
Mons  [making  horns  at  Montsurry].    Nay,  they  are  two, 

my  lord. 
MoHt,  How's  that  ? 

Mons,  No  more.      lao 


Sc.  1]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  49 

M<mt.    I  must  have  more,  my  lord. 

Afoffs.  What,  more  than  two  ? 

Mont.    How  mooatrous  is  this  !  1 

MoHS.  Why  ? 

Mont.  You  make  me  horns  I 

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 ;  125 

Your  wife,  you  know,  is  a  mere  Cjmthia. 
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  nobleman,  and  read,  130 

Here's  something  to  those  points ;  soft,  ytuM  must  pawn 
Your  honour  having  read  it  to  return  it. 

Enter  Tamyra,  Pero. 

Mont.    Not  1 1   I  pawn  mine  honour  for  a  paper  ?  ' 

Mons.    You  must  not  buy  it  under. 

Exeunt  Guise  and  Monsieur 

Mont.  Keep  it  then. 

And  keep  fire  in  your  bosom. 

Tarn.  What  says  he  ?  135 

Mont.    You  must  make  good  the  rest. 

Tarn.  How  fares  my  lord  ? 

Takes  my  love  anything  to  heart  he  says  ? 

Mont.    Come  y'are  a — 

Tanu  What,  my  lord  ? 

Mont.  The  plague  of  Herod 

Feast  in  his  rotten  entrails. 

Tarn.  Will  you  wreak 

Your  anger's  just  cause  given  by  liun,  on  me  ?  140 

Mont.        By  him  ? 

Tom.  By  him,  my  lord ;    I  have  admir'd 

Yon  could  all  this  time  be  at  concord  with  him, 
That  still  bath  play'd  such  discords  on  your  honour. 

Mont.     Perhaps  'tis  with  some  proud  string  of  my  wife's. 

Tarn.     How's  that,  my  lord  ? 

Mont.  Your  tongue  will  still  admire,     145 

mi  my  head  be  the  miracle  of  the  world. 

Tarn.    O,  woe  is  me  I 

She  seems  to  swound 

CJD.W.  B 


50  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  IV 

Pero.  What  does  your  lordship  mean  ? 

Madam,  be  comforted ;    my  lord  but  tries  you. 
Madam !  Help,  good  my  lord,  are  you  not  mov'd  ? 
Do  your  set  looks  print  in  your  words  your  thoughts  ?       150 
Sweet  lord,  clear  up  those  eyes,  for  shame  of  noblesse. 
Unbend  that  masking  forehead ;    whence  is  it 
You  rush  upon  her  with  these  Irish  wars. 
More  full  of  sound  than  hurt  ?     But  it  is  enough. 
You  have  shot  home,  your  words  are  in  her  heart ;  155 

She  has  not  liv'd  to  bear  a  trial  now. 

Mont,    Look  up,  my  love,  and  by  this  kiss  receive 
My  soul  amongst  thy  spirits,  for  supply 
To  thine  chas'd  with  my  fury. 

Tarn.  Oh,  my  lord, 

I  have  too  long  liv'd  to  hear  this  from  you.  160 

Mont    'Twas  from  my  troubled  blood,  and  not  from  me. 
[Aside]  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,  165 

That  was  my  life's  joy,  being  best  inform'd. — 
Sweet,  you  must  needs  forgive  me,  that  my  love 
(Like  to  a  fire  disdaining  his  suppression) 
Rag'd  being  discourag'd ;    my  whole  heart  is  wounded 
When  any  least  thought  in  you  is  but  touch'd^  170 

And  shall  be  till  I  know  your  former  merits. 
Your  name  and  memory,  altogether  crave 
In  just  oblivion  their  eternal  grave  ; 
And  then,  3rou  must  hear  from  me,  there's  no  mean 
In  any  passion  I  shall  feel  for  you  ;  175 

Love  is  a  razor  cleansing,  being  well  us'd> 
But  fetcheth  blood  still,  being  the  least  abus'd ; 
To  teU  you  briefly  all — the  man  that  left  me 
When  you  appear'd,  did  turn  me  worse  than  woman. 
And  stabb'd  me  to  the  heart  thus  [making  Aoms],  with  his 

fingers.  180 

7am.    Oh,  happy  woman  \    Comes  my  stain  from  him  ? 
It  is  my  beauty,  and  that  innocence  proves 
That  slew  Ch3anaera,  rescued  Peleus 
From  all  the  savage  beasts  in  Pelion, 

And  rais'd  the  chaste  Athenian  prince  from  hell:  185 

All  suffering  with  me,  they  for  women's  lusts, 
I  for  a  man's,  that  the  Augean  stable 


Sa  I]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  51 

Of  his  foul  sin  wonM  empty  in  my  lap } 

How  his  guilt  shunn'd  me  !    Sacred  Imiocence, 

That  where  thoo  fear'st  art  dteadiul,  and  his  face  190 

Tmu'd  in  flight  from  thee,  that  had  thee  in  chase ; 

Come»  faring  me  to  him ;  I  will  teU  the  serpent 

Even  to  his  venom'd  teeth  (from  whose  cuis'd  seed 

A  pitch'd  field  starts  up  'twixt  my  lord  and  me) 

That  his  throat  lies,  and  he  shall  curse  his  fingers,  195 

For  faeing  so  govem'd  fay  his  filthy  soul. 

Mont.    I  know  not  if  himself  will  vaunt  t'have  faeen 
The  princely  author  of  the  slavish  sin. 
Or  any  other  ;  he  would  have  resolv'd  me. 
Had  you  not  come,  not  fay  his  word,  faut  writing,  200 

Would  I  have  swoom  to  give  it  him  again. 
And  pawn'd  mine  honour  to  him  for  a  paper. 

Tarn.    See  how  he  flies  me  still  I  Tis  a  foul  heart 
That  fears  his  own  hand.    Good,  my  lord,  make  haste 
To  see  the  dangerous  paper ;  papers  hold  305 

Oft-times  the  forms  and  copies  of  our  souls. 
And,  though  the  world  despise  them,  sure  the  prizes 
Of  an  our  honours ;  make  your  honour  then 
A  hostage  for  it,  and  with  it  confer 

My  nearest  woman  here,  in  all  she  knows  ;  310 

Who  (if  the  sun  or  Cerfaerus  could  have  seen 
Any  stain  in  me)  might  as  well  as  they ; 
And»  Pero,  here  I  charge  thee  fay  my  love. 
And  all  proofs  of  it  (which  I  might  call  faounties). 
By  all  that  thou  hast  seen  seem  good  in  me,  215 

And  an  the  in  which  thou  shouldst  spit  from  thee. 
By  pity  of  the  wound  this  touch  hath  given  me, 
Not  as  thy  mistress  now,  faut  a  poor  woman. 
To  death  given  over,  rid  me  of  my  pains  ; 
Pour  on  thy  powder  ;  clear  thy  fareast  of  me :  33b 

My  lord  is  only  here  ;  here  speak  thy  worst. 
Thy  faest  wiU  do  me  mischief ;  if  thou  spar'st  me. 
Never  shine  good  thought  on  thy  memory ! 
Resolve  my  lord,  and  leave  me  desperate. 

Pero.    My  lord  ! — My  lord  hath  play'd  a  prodigal's  part.  335 
To  fareak  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  falow  up  long-crown'd  peace 
With  sudden  outrage,  and  faelieve  a  man  ^  .  330 


52  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  IV 

Sworn  to  the  shame  of  women,  gainst  a  woman 
Bom  to  their  honours  1     But  I  will  to  him. 

Tarn,    No,  I  will  write  (ior  I  shall  never  more 
Meet  with  the  fugitive)  where  I  will  clefy  him. 
Were  he  ten  times  the  brother  of  my  king.  235 

To  him,  my  lord,  and  I'll  to  cursing  him. 

Exeunt 


.  [SCENA  SECUNDA 
A  Room  in  Montsurry's  House] 
Enter  D'Ambois  and  Friar 


v.. 


^ 


Bus.    I  am  suspicious,  my  most  honour'd  father. 
By  some  of  Monsieur's  cunning  passages. 
That  his  still  ranging  and  contentious  nostrils. 
To  scent  the  haunts  of  Mischief  have  so  us'd 
The  vicious  virtue  of  his  busy  sense,  5 

That  he  trails  hotly  of  him,  and  wiU  rouse  him. 
Driving  him  all  enraged  and  foaming  on  us ; 
And  therefore  have  entreated  your  deep  skill 
In  the  command  of  good  atrial  spirits. 

To  assume  these  magic  rites,  and  call  up  one  10 

To  know  if  any  have  reveal'd  unto  him 
Anything  touching  my  dear  love  and  me. 

Friar,    Good  son,  you  have  amaz'd  me  but  to  make 
The  least  doubt  of  it,  it  concerns  so  nearly 
The  faith  and  reverence  of  my  name  and  order.  15 

Yet  will  I  justify,  upon  my  soul, 
All  I  have  done;  if  any  spirit  i'  th'  earth  or  air 
Can  give  you  the  resolve,  do  not  despair. 

I 

Muzic :  and  Tamyra  enters  with  Pero,  her  maid^  hearing  a  letter 

Tarn.     Away,  deliver  it:  Exit  Pero 

O  may  my  tines, 
Fill'd  with  the  poison  of  a  woman's  hate,  20 

When  he  shall  open  them,  shrink  up  his  curs'd  eyes 
With  torturous  darkness,  such  as  stands  in  hell. 
Stuck  full  of  inward  hoirors,  never  lighted. 
With  which  are  all  things  to  be  fear'd,  affrighted  ; 

Bus,  [advancing]    How  is  it  with  my  honour'd  mistress  ?      25 
Tarn,    O  servant,  help,  and  save  me  from  the  gripes 
Of  shame  and  infamy.    Our  love  is  known ; 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D*AMBOIS  53 

Your  Monsieiir  hath  a  paper  where  is  writ 
Some  secret  tokens  that  decipher  it. 

Bus.    What  cold  dull  Northern  brain,  what  fool  but  he     30 
Durst  take  into  his  Epimethean  breast 
A  box  of  such  plagues  as  the  danger  yields 
Incurr'd  in  this  discovery  ?    He  had  better 
Ventur'd  his  breast  in  the  consuming  reach 
Of  the  hot  surfeits  cast  out  of  the  clouds,  35 

Or  stood  the  bullets  that  (to  wreak  the  sky) 
The  Cyclops  ram  in  Jove's  artillery. 

Friar,    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,  40 

What  is  contain'd  within  the  secret  paper 
Offer'd  by  Monsieur,  and  your  love's  events : 
To  which  ends,  honour'd  daughter,  at  your  motion^. 
I  have  put  on  these  exorcising  rites. 

And,  by  my  power  of  learned  holiness  45' 

VoQchsaf'd  me  from  above,  I  will  command 
Our  resolution  of  a  raised  spirit. 

Tarn,    Good  father,  raise  him  in  some  beauteous  form* 
That  with  least  terror 'I  may  brook  his  sight. 

Friar,    Stand  sure  together,  then,  whatever  you  see,  50 

And  stir  not,  as  ye  tender  all  our  Hves. 

He  puts  on  his  robes 

Occidentaliufn  legionum  spiritualium  imperator  (magnus 
iile  Behemoth)  vent,  veni,  comitatus  cum  Astaroth  locotenente 
invicto.  Adjuro  te  per  Stygis  inscrutabilia  arcana,  per  ipsos 
irremeabiles  an fr actus  Avemi  :  adesto  6  Behempth,  tu  cut  petvia  55 
sunt  Magnatum  scrinia ;  vent,  per  Noctis  6*  tenebrarum 
abdiia  profundissima  ;  pet  labentia  sidera  ;  per  ipsos  motus^ 
horarum  furtivos,  Hecatesque^  altum  siUHHum^i  Appars  in 
forma  spiritali,  lucente,  splendUda  iS*  amabUi,  -  '' 

Thunder.    Ascendit  [Behemoth  with  Cartophy- 
lax  and  other  spirits] 

Beh.    What  would  the  holy  Friar  ? 

Friar.  I  would  see  60. 

What  now  the  Monsieur  and  Montsurry  do, 
And  see  the  secret  paper  that  the  Monsieur 
Offer'd  to  Count  Montsurry,  longing  muoh 
To 'know  on  what  events  the  secret  loves 
Of  these  two  honour'd  persons  shall  arrive*  65 


54  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  IV 

Beh.    Why  call'dst  thou  me  to  this  accniBed  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  70 

Of  knowing  spirits  tiiat  can  do  more  than  these.  V 

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  75 

Than  open  such  slight  truths  as  you  require. 

Friar.    From  the  last  nighfs  black  depth  I  call'd  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  80 

That  Monsieur  hath  to  show  to  Count  Montsurry. 

Beh.    I  wUl.    Cartophylax,  thou  that  properly 
Hast  in  thy  power  all  papers  so  inscribed. 
Glide  through  aU  bars  to  it  and  fetch  that  paper. 

Car,    1  will.  A  torch  removes 

Friar.  Till  he  returns^  great  Prince  of  Darkness,     85 

Tell  me  if  Monsieur  and  the  Count  Montsurry 
Are  yet  encountered  ^ 

Beh.  Both  them  and  the  Ouise  ' 

Are  now  together. 

Friar.  Show  us  all  their  persons. 

And  represent  the  place,  with  all  their  actions. 

Beh.    The  spirit  will  straight  return,  and  then  I'U  show 
thee.  90 

IRe-enter  Cartophylax] 

See,  he  is  come.    Why  brought'st  thou  not  the  paper  ? 

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

Beh.    This  is  your  slackness,  not  t'  invoke  our  powers    95 
When  first  your  acts  set  forth  to  their  efiects ; 
Yet  shall  you  see  it  and  themselves :  behold 
They  come  here,  and  the  Earl  now  holds  the  paper. 

Enter  [abovei]  Monsieur,  Guise,  Montsurry,  with  a  paper 

Bus.    May  we  not  hear  them  ? 

[Friar,]  No,  be  still  and  see. 

Bus.    I  will  go  tttcb  the  paper. 


Sc  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  55 

•  Friar.  Do  not  stir ;  xoo 

There's  too  much  distance  and  too  many  locks 
Twixt  you  and  them  (how  near  soe'er  they  seem), 
For  any  man  to  interrupt  their  secrets. 

Tarn.    O  honour'd  spirit,  fly  into  the  fancy 
Of  my  offended  lord,  and  do  not  let  him  105 

Believe  what  there  the  wicked  man  hath  written. 

Beh.    Persuasion  hath  already  entered  him 
Beyond  reflection ;  peace  till  their  departure. 

Mons,    There  is  a  glass  of  ink  where  you  may  see 
How  to  make  ready  black-fac'd  tragedy:  no 

You  now  discern,  I  hope,  through  all  her  paintings, 
Her  gasxnng  wrinkles  and  fame's  sepulchres. 

Guise.    Think  you  he  feigns,  my  lord  ?    What  hold  you  . 
now  ? 
Do  we  malign  your  wife,  or  honour  you  ? 

Mons.    What,  stricken  dumb  1    Nay  fie,  lord,   be  not 
daunted ;  115 

Your  case  is  common ;  were  it  ne'er  so  rare. 
Bear  it  as  rarely  I    Now  to  laugh  were  manly ; 
A  worthy  man  should  imitate  the  weather 
That  sings  in  tempests,  and,  being  clear,  is  silent. 

Guise.    Go  home,  my  lord,  and  force  your  wife  to  write  120 
Such  loving  lines  to  D'Ambois  as  she  us'd 
When  she  desir'd  his  presence. 

Mons.  Do,  my  lord. 

And  make  her  name  her  conceal'd  messenger. 
That  close  and  most  inennerable  pander, 

That  passeth  all  our  studies  to  exquire  ;  125 

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  130 

All  close  and  soundly  arm'd ;  and  let  them  share 
A  spirit  amongst  them  that  would  serve  a  thousand. 

Enter  [above]  Fero  with  a  letter 

Guise.    Yet  stay  a  little ;  see,  she  sends  for  you. 
Mons.    Poor,  loving  lady ;  she'll  make  aU  good  yet, 
Think  you  not  so,  my  lord  ? 

Montsurry  stabs  Pero  and  e^it 


56  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  IV 

Guise.  Alas,  poor  soul!  135 

Mans.    This  was  cmelly  done,  i'  faith. 

Pero.  'Twas  nobly  done. 

And  I  forgive  his  lordship  from  my  soul. 

Mons.    Then  much  good  do't  thee,  Pero !  Hast  a  letter  ? 

Psro.    I  hope  it  rather  be  a  bitter  volume 
Of  worthy  curses  for  your  perjury.  140 

Guise.    To  you,  my  lord. 

Mons.  To  me  ?  Now,  out  upon  her. 

Guise.    Let  me  see,  my  lord> 

Mons.    You  shall  presently.    How  fares  my  Pero  ? 
Who's  there  ? 

Enter  Servant. 

Take  in  this  maid,  sh'as  caught  a  clap. 
And  fetch  my  surgeon  to  her ;  come,  my  lord,  145 

We'll  now  peruse  our  letter. 

Exeu$U  Montsurry,  Qnise 

Pero.  Furies  rise 

Out  of  the  black  lines,  and  torment  his  soul. 

[Servant  lead[s]  her  out 

Tarn.    Hath  my  lord  slain  my  woman  ? 

Beh.  No,  she  lives. 

Friar.    What  shall  become  of  us  ? 

Beh.  All  I  can  say. 

Being  call'd  thus  late,  is  brief,  and  darkly  this  :  1 50 

If  D'Ambois'  mistress  dye  not  her  white  hand 
In  his  forc'd  blood,  he  shall  remain  untouch'd  ; 
So,  father,  shall  yourself,  but  by  yourself  : 
To  make  this  augury  plainer,  when  the  voice 
Of  D'Ambois  shall  invoke  me,  I  will  rise,  155 

Shining  in  greater  light,  and  show  him  all 
That  will  betide  ye  all ;  meantime  be  wise. 
And  curb  his  valour  with  your  policies. 

Descendit  cum  suis 

Bus.    Will  he  appear  to  me  when  I  invoke  him  ? 

Friar.    He  will»  be  sure. 

Bus.  It  must  be  shortly  then :         160 

For  his  dark  words  have  tied  my  thoughts  on  knots 
Till  he  dissolve,  and  free  them. 

Tarn.  In  meantime, 

Dear  •ervant*  till  your  powerful  voice  revoke  him. 


Sc,  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  57 

Be  sure  to  use  the  policy  he  advis'd  ; 

Lest  fury  in  your  too  quick  knowledge  taken  i6s 

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  170 

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'D  soothe  his  plots,  and  strow  my  hate  with  smiles,  175 
Till  all  at  once  the  close  mines  of  my  heart 
Rise  at  full  date,  and  rush  into  his  Uood : 
I'D  bind  his  arm  in  silk,  and  mb  his  flesh. 
To  make  the  vein  swell,  that  his  soul  may  gush 
Into  some  kennel  where  it  longs  to  lie,  I0fr 

And  policy  shaU  be  flank'd  with  policy. 
Yet  shall  the  feeling  centre  where  we  meet 
Gioan  with  the  weight  of  my  approaching  feet; 
I'D  make  th'  inspired  thresholds  of  his  court 
Sweat  with  the  weather  of  my  hornd  steps*  185 

Before  I  enter ;  yet  will  I  appear 
Like  cahn  security  before  a  ruin ; 
A  politician  must  like  lightning  melt 
The  very  marrow,  and  not  taint  the  skin: 
His  ways  must  not  be  seen ;  the  superfides  190 

Of  the  green  centre  must  not  taste  his  feet; 
When  heU  is  plow'd  up  with  his  wounding  tracts ; 
And  all  his  harvest  reap'd  by  hellish  facts*  Btf^mU 

FINIS  ACTUS  QUARTI 


ACTUS  QUINTI  SCENA  PRIMA 
lA  Room  in  Montsurry's  House} 

Montsurry,  bare,  unbraced,  pultinf;  Tamyra  in  by  the 
hair.  Friar.  One  bearing  light,  a  standish  and  paper, 
which  sets  a  table. 

Torn*    O,  help  me»  father  I 

Friar,  Impious  earl,  forbear. 


58  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  V 

Take  violent  hand  from  her,  or,  by  mine  order. 
The  King  shall  force  thee. 

Mont.  Tis  not  violent ; 

Come  you  not  willingly  ? 

Tarn,  Yes,  good  my  lord. 

Friar.    My  lord,  remember  that  3ronr  soul  must  seek      5 
Her  peace,  as  well  as  your  revengefid  blood  ; 
You  ever  to  this  hour  have  prov'd  yourself 
A  noble,  zealous,  and  obedient  son, 
T'our  holy  mother ;  be  not  an  apostate : 

Your  wife's  offence  serves  not  (were  it  the  worst  10 

Yon  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  15 

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  20 

To  her  that  is  more  gentle  than  that  rude ; 
In  whom  kind  nature  sufier'd  one  ofience 
But  to  set  ofi  her  other  excellence. 

Mont.    Good  father,  leave  us ;  interrupt  no  more 
The  course  I  must  run  for  mine  honour  sake.  25 

Rely  on  my  love  to  her,  which  her  fault 
Cannot  extinguish ;  will  she  but  disclose 
Who  was  the  secret  nunister  of  her  love. 
And  through  what  maze  he  serv'd  it,  we  are  friends. 

Friar.    It  is  a  danm'd  work  to  pursue  those  secrets,  30 

That  would  ope  more  sin,  and  prove  springs  of  slaughter ; 
Nor  is't  a  path  for  Christian  feet  to  tread* 
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  your  terrors.  35 

Tempt  not  a  man  distrax:tsd ;  I  am  apt 
To  outrages  that  I  shall  ever  rue  I 
I  will  not  pass  the  verge  that  bounds  a  Christian, 
Nor  break  the  limits  of  a  man  nor  husband. 

Friar.    Then  God  inspire  you  both  with  thoughts  and  deeds    40 
Worthy  his  high  respect,  and  yonc  own  souls. 


Sc  I]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  59 

Tom.    Father ! 

Friar.  I  waxrant  thee,  my  dearest  daughter. 

He  will  not  touch  thee ;  think'st  thou  him  a  pagan  ? 
His  honour  and  his  soul  lies  for  thy  safety.  E»it 

Mont,    Who  shall  remove  the  mountain  from  my  breast,    4$ 
Stand  the  opening  furnace  of  my  thoughts. 
And  set  fit  outcries  for  a  soul  in  hell  ? 

Montsurry  tufns  a  h^y 
For  now  it  nothing  fits  my  woes  to  speak 
But  thunder,  or  to  take  into  my  throat 

The  trump  of  Heaven,  with  whose  determinate  blasts  50 

The  winds  shaU  burst,  and  the  devouring  seas 
Be  drunk  up  in  his  sounds ;  that  my  hot  woes 
(Vented  enough)  I  might  convert  to  vapour. 
Ascending  from  my  infamy  unseen. 

Shorten  the  world,  preventing  the  last  breath  55 

That  kills  the  living,  and  regenerates  death. 

Tarn,    My  lord,  my  fault  (as  you  may  censors  it 
With  too  strong  arguments)  is  past  your  pardon : 
But  how  the  circumstances  may  excuse  me 
God  knows,  and  your  more  temperate  mind  hereafter  60 

May  let  my  penitent  miseries  make  3^u  know. 

Mowt.    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  65 

Eniag'd  with  those  winds  that  less  lights  extinguish. 
Come,  Siren,  sing,  and  dash  against  my  rocks 
Thy  ruffian  galley,  rigg'd  with  quench  for  lust  I 
Sing,  and  put  all  the  nets  into  thy  voice 
With  which  thou  drew'st  into  thy  strumpet* s  lap  70 

The  spawn  of  Venus,  and  in  which  ye  danced; 
That,  in  thy  lap's  stead,  I  may  dig  his  tomb. 
And  quit  his  manhood  with  a  woman's  sleii^t. 
Who  never  is  deceiv'd  in  her  deceit. 

Sing  (that  is,  write),  and  then  take  from  mine  eyes  75 

The  mists  that  hide  the  most  inscrutable  pander 
That  ever  lapp'd  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,  80 

Then  cut  him  up,  and  with  my  soul's  beams  search 
The  cranks  and  caverns  of  his  brain,  and  study 


6o  BUSSY  D' AMBOIS  [Act  V 

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  85 

That  adders  lie  a-sunning  in  their  smiles. 

That  basihsks  drink  their  poison  from  their  eyes. 

And  no  way  there  to  coast  out  to  their  hearts ; 

Yet  still  they  wander  there,  and  are  not  stay'd 

Till  they  be  fetter'd*  nor  secure  before  90 

All  cares  devour  them,  nor  in  human  consort 

Till  they  embrace  within  their  wife's  two  breasts 

All  Pelion  and  C3rthaBron  with  their  beasts. 

Why  write  you  not  ? 

Tarn.  O,  good  my  lord,  forbear 

In  wreak  of  great  &uihs  to  engender  greater,  95 

And  make  my  love's  corruption  generate  murthen 

Mont,    It  follows  needfully  as  child  and  parent ; 
The  chain-shot  of  thy  lust  is  yet  aloft. 
And  it  must  murther ;   'tis  thine  own  dear  twin : 
No  man  can  add  height  to  a  woman's  sin.  100 

Vice  never  doth  her  just  hate  so  provoke. 
As  when  she  rageth  under  virtue's  cloak. 
Write  !   For  it  must  be  ;   by  this  ruthless  steel. 
By  this  impartial  torture,  and  the  death 
Thy  tyrannies  have  invented  in  my  entrails,  105 

To  quicken  life  in  dying,  and  hold  up 
The  spirits  in  fainting,  teaching  to  preserve 
Torments  in  ashes,  that  will  ever  last. 
Speak  !    Will  you  write  ? 

Tarn.  Sweet  lord,  enjoin  my  sin 

Some  other  penance  than  what  makes  it  worse :  no 

Hide  in  some  gloomy  dungeon  my  loath'd  face. 
And  let  condemned  murtherers  let  me  down 
(Stopping  their  noses)  my  abhorred  food. 
Hang  me  in  chains,  and  let  me  eat  these  asms 
That  have  offended:    bind  me  face  to  face  115 

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 :  1 20 

Bat  to  betray  a  friend  with  show  of  friendship, 
That  is  too  common  for  the  rare  revenge 
Your  rage  afiecteth ;   here  then  are  my  breasts, 


Sc.  I]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  6i 

Last  night  your  pillows ;   here  my  wretched  arms. 

As  late  the  wished  confines  of  your  life :  125 

Now  break  them  as  yon  please,  and  all  the  bounds 

Of  manhood,  noblesse,  and  rehgion. 

Mont.    Where  all  these  have  been  broken,  they  are  kept. 
In  doing  their  justice  there  with  any  show 
Of  the  like  cruelty ;   thine  arms  have  lost  130 

Their   privilege  in  lust,  and  in  their  torture 
Thus  they  nmst  pay  it.  Stabs  her 

Tarn.  O  Lord ! 

Mont.  Till  thou  writ'st, 

I'll  write  in  wounds  (my  wrong's  fit  characters) 
Thy  right  of  sufferance.    Write  t 

Tarn.  Oh,  kill  me,  kill  me! 

Dear  husband,  be  not  crueller  than  death ;  135 

You  have  beheld  some  Gorgon ;   feel,  oh,  feel 
How  you  are  tum'd  to  stone ;  with  my  heart-blood 
Dissolve  yourself  again,  or  3rou  will  grow 
Into  the  image  of  aU  tyranny. 

Mont.    As  thou  art  of  adultery;   I  will  ever  140 

Prove  thee  my  parallel,  being  most  a  monster  ; 
Thus  I  express  thee  yet.  Skibs  her  again 

Tarn.  And  3^  I  live. 

Mont.    Ay,  for  thy  monstrous  idol  is  not  done  yet : 
This  tool  hath  wrought  enough  ;  [sheaihing  hi&  dagger]  now. 

Torture,  use 
This  other  engine  on  th'  habituate  powers  145 

Of  her  thrice-damn'd  and  whorish  f<»rtitude: 

Enter  Servants  [and  place  Tamyra  on  the  rach] 

Use  the  most  madding  pains  in  her  that  ever 
Thy  venoms  soak'd  through,  making  most  of  death. 
That  she  may  weigh  her  wrongs  with  them,  and  then 
Stand,  Vengeance,  on  thy  steepest  rock,  a  victor  I  150 

Tarn.    Oh,  who  is  tum'd  into  my  lord  and  husband  ? 
Husband  I    My  lord  !    None  but  my  lord  and  husband  ! 
Heaven,  I  ask  thee  remission  of  my  sins. 
Not  of  my  pains  ;   husband,  oh,  help  me,  husband ! 

Ascendit  Friar  w^h  a  ^word  drawn 

Friar.    What  rape  of  honour  and  religion  !  155 

Oh,  wrack  of  nature  !  Falls  and  dies 

Tarn*  Poor  man  1   Oh,  my  father  I 


62  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  V 

Father,  look  up !   Oh,  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  ?  i6o 

Now  is  it  true,  earth  moves,  and  heaven  stands  still ; 
Even  heaven  itself  must  see  and  sufEer  ill : 
The  too  huge  bias  of  the  world  hath  sway'd 
Her  back-psirt  upwards,  and  with  that  she  braves 
This  hemisphere,  that  long  her  mouth  hath  mock'd  !  165 

The  gravity  of  her  religious  face, 
(Now  grown  too  weighty  with  her  sacrilege 
And  here  discem'd  sophisticate  enough) 
Turns  to  th'  Antipodes  ;   and  all  the  forms 
That  her  illusions  have  impressed  in  her,  170 

Have  eaten  through  her  back ;   and  now  all  see. 
How  she  is  riveted  with  h3rpocrisy. 
Was  this  the  way  ?   Was  he  the  mean  betwixt  you  ? 

Tarn,    He  was,  he  was,  kind  worthy  man,  he  was. 

Mont.    Write,  write  a  word  or  two.  175 

Tarn.  I  will,  I  will. 

I'll  write,  but  with  my  blood,  that  he  may  see 
These  lines  come  from  my  wounds,  and  not  from  me. 

WriUs 

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  ;  1 80 

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  185 

Is  man's  delight  in  women  1   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    I  must  be  messenger  myself,  190 

Disguis'd  like  this  strange  creature :    in,  I'll  after. 
To  see  what  guilty  light  gives  this  cave  eyes. 
And  to  the  world  sing  new  impieties. 

Exeunt  [Servants].    He  puts  the  Fdar  in  the  vault  and 
foUows.    She  wraps  herself  in  the  afra&. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  63 

[SCENA  SECUNDA 

Another  Roam  in  Montsurry's  House} 

Enter  Monsieur  and  Guise 

Mons.    Now  shall  we  see  that  Nature  hath  no  end 
In  her  great  works  responsive  to  their  worths  ; 
That  she,  that  makes  so  many  eyes  and  souls 
To  see  and  foresee,  is  stark  blind  herself  ; 
And  as  illiterate  men  say  Latin  prayers  5 

By  rote  of  heart  and  daily  iteration, 
Not  knowing  what  they  say,  so  Nature  lays 
A  deal  of  stuff  together,  and  by  use. 
Or  by  the  mere  necessity  of  matter. 

Ends  such  a  work,  fills  it,  or  leaves  it  empty  10 

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  ;  1 5 

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  sail'd  long  with  terror.  20 

Guise.    He  that  observes  but  hke  a  worldly  man 
That  which  doth  oft  succeed,  and  by  th'  events 
Values  the  worth  of  things,  will  think  it  true 
That  Nature  works  at  random,  just  with  you : 
But  with  as  much  proportion  she  may  make  25 

A  thing  that  from  the  feet  up  to  the  throat 
Hath  an  the  wondrous  fabric  man  should  have, 
And  leave  it  headless,  for  a  perfect  man. 
As  give  a  full  man  valour,  virtue,  learning. 
Without  an  end  more  excellent  than  those  30 

On  whom  she  no  such  worthy  part  bestows. 

Mans.     Yet  shall  you  see  it  here  ;   here  will  be  one 
Young,  learned,  vaHant,  virtuous,  and  full  mann'd  ; 
One  on  whom  Nature  spent  so  rich  a  hand 
That  with  an  ominous  eye  she  wept  to  see  35 

So  much  consumed  her  virtuous  treasury. 
Yet  as  the  winds  sing  through  a  hollow  tree 
And  (since  it  lets  them  pass  through)  let  it  stand  ; 


64  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  V 

But  a  tree  solid  (since  it  gives  no  way 

To  their  wild  rage)  they  rend  up  by  the  root :  40 

So  this  whole  man 

(That  will  not  wind  with  every  crooked  way. 

Trod  by  the  servile  world)  shall  reel  and  fall 

Before  the  frantic  pufEs  of  blind-bom  chance. 

That  pipes  through  empty  men,  and  makes  them   dance.    45 

Not  so  the  sea  raves  on  the  Lylnan  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)  50 

Swell,  being  enrag'd,  even  from  their  iimiost  drop. 

As  Fortune  swings  about  the  restless  state 

Of  virtue,  now  thrown  into  all  men's  hate. 

Enter  Montsurry  disguised  [as  the  Friar]  with  the 

Murtherers 

Away,  my  lord ;   you  are  perfectly  disguis'd, 

Leave  us  to  lodge  your  ambush.  55 

Mont.  Speed  me,  vengeance  !    Exit 

Mons,    Resolve,  my  masters,  you  shall  meet  with  one 

Will  try  what  proofs  your  privy  coats  are  made  on : 

When  he  is  enter'd,  and  you  hear  us-  stamp. 

Approach,  and  make  all  sure. 

Murtherers.  We  will,  my  lord.  Exeunt 

[SCENA  TERTIA 

A  room  in  Bussy's  House"] 

D'Ambois  with  two  Pages  with  tapers 

Bus.    Sit  up  to-night,  and  watch  ;  I'll  speak  with  none 
But  the  old  Friar,  who  bring  to  me. 

Pages.  We  will,  sir.    Exeunt 

Bus.    What  violent  heat  is  this  ?    Methinks  the  fire 
Of  twenty  lives  doth  on  a  sudden  flash 

Through  all  my  faculties:    the  air  goes  high  5 

In  this  close  chamber,  and  the  frighted  earth  Thunder 

Trembles,  and  shrinks  beneath  me ;   the  whole  house 
Nods  with  his  shaken  burthen. 

Enter  Umbra  Friar 

Bless  me,  heaven ! 


Sc.  3]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  6$ 

Umbra.    Note  what  I  want,  dear  son,  and  be  f  orewam'd : 

0  there  are  bloody  deeds  past  and  to  come.  10 

1  cannot  stay ;   a  fate  doth  ravish  me  ; 

I'll  meet  thee  in  the  chamber  of  thy  love.  E:ifit 

Bus,     What  dismal  change  is  here  !  The  good  old  Friar 
Is  mnrth^'d,  being  made  known  to  serve  my  love ; 
And  now  his  restless  spirit  would  forewarn  me  15 

Of  some  plot  dangerous  and  imminent. 
Note  what  he  wants  ?    He  wants  his  upper  weed. 
He  wants  his  life  and  body:    which  of  lliese 
Should  be  the  want  he  means,  and  may  supply  me 
^^th  any  fit  forewarning  ?    This  strange  vision  20 

(Together  with  the  dark  prediction 
Us'd  by  the  Prince  of  Darkness  that  was  rais'd 
By  this  embodied  shadow)  stir  my  thoughts 
With  reminiscion  of  the  Spirit's  promise, 
Who  told  me  that  by  any  invocation  25 

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  daim 
Performance  of  his  free  and  gentle  vow  30 

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  35 

(When  he  had  utter'd  his  perplex'd  presage) 
Threw  his  changed  countenance  headlong  into  clouds; 
His  forehead  bent,  as  it  would  hide  his  face. 
He  knock'd  his  chin  against  his  darkened  breast. 
And  struck  a  churlish  silence  through  his  powers.  40 

Terror  of  darkness  I    O,  tl^ou  King  of  flames  ! 
That  with  thy  music-footed  horse  dost  strike 
The  clear  light  out  of  crystal  on  dark  earth. 
And  hurl'st  instructive  fire  about  the  world. 
Wake,  wake  the  drowsy  and  enchanted  night,  45 

That  sleeps  with  dead  eyes  in  this  heavy  riddle  I 
Or  thou  great  Prince  of  shades  where  never  sun 
Sticks  his  far-darted  beams,  whose  eyes  are  made 
To  shine  in  darkness,  and  see  ever  best 

Where  men  are  blindest,  open  now  the  heart  5^ 

Of  thy  abashed  oracles  that,  for  fear, 

coxw.  V 


66  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  V 

Of  some  ill  it  includes,  would  fain  lie  hid» 
And  rise  thou  with  it  in  thy  greater  light. 

Thunders.     Surgit  Spiritus  cum  suis 

BeH,    Thus,  to  observe  my  vow  of  apparition 
In  greater  light,  and  explicate  thy  fate,  55 

I  come  ;   and  tell  thee  that,  if  thou  obey 
The  summons  that  thy  mistress  next  will  send  thee, 
Her  hand  shall  be  thy  death. 

Bus.  When  will  she  send  ? 

Beh.    Soon  as  I  set  again,  where  late  I  rose. 

Bus.    Is  the  old  Friar  slain  ?  60 

Bsh.  No,  and  yet  lives  not. 

Bus.    Died  he  a  natural  death  ? 

Beh.  He  did. 

Bus.  Who  then 

Will  my  dear  mistress  send  ? 

Beh.  I  must  not  teU  thee. 

Bus.    Who  lets  thee  ? 

Beh.  Fate. 

B«5.  Who  are  Fate's  ministers  ? 

Beh.    The  Guise  and  Monsieur. 

Bus.  A  fit  pair  of  shears 

To  cut  the  threads  of  kings  and  kingly  spirits,  65 

And  consorts  fit  to  sound  forth  harmony 
Set  to  the  falls  of  kingdoms !    Shall  the  hand 
Of  my  kind  mistress  kill  me  ? 

Beh.  If  thou  yield 

To  her  next  summons.     Vare  fair-wam'd  ;   farewell ! 

Thunders.    Exit 

Bus.    I  must  fare  well,  however,  though  I  die,  70 

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  obe3r*d. 
Her  hand  should  so  reward  me,  they  must  arm  it,  75 

Bind  me,  or  force  it ;   or,  I  lay  my  life, 
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 :  to 

And  who  she  should  send  is  as  far  from  thought. 
Since  he  is  dead,  whose  only  mean  she  us'd. 

[One]  knacks 


Sc  3]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  67 

Who's  there  ?    Look  to  the  door,  and  let  him  in. 
Though  politic  Monsieur  or  the  violent  Guise. 

Enier  Montsurry,  like  the  Friar,  with  a  letter  written  tn  blood 

MotU.    Hail  to  my  worthy  son.  85 

Bus,  Oh,  lying  Spirit^ 

To  say  the  Friar  was  dead  I   I'H  now  believe 
Nothing  of  aU  his  forg'd  predictions. 
My  kind  and  hononr'd  lather,  well  reviVd  t 
I  have  been  frighted  with  your  death  and  mine. 
And  told  my  mistress'  hand  should  be  my  death,  90 

If  I  obey'd  this  summons. 

Mont.  I  believ'd 

Your  love  had  been  much  clearer  than  to  give 
Any  such  doubt  a  thought,  for  she  is  clear. 
And  having  freed  her  husband's  jealousy 
(Of  which  her  much  abus'd  hand  here  is  witness)  95 

She  prays,  for  urgent  cause,  your  instant  presence. 

Bus.    Why,  then  3rour  Prince  of  Spirits  may  be  called 
The  Prince  of  liars. 

Mont.  Holy  Writ  so  calls  him. 

Bus.    [Opening  the  letter]    What !   Writ  in  blood  ? 

Mont.  Ay,  'tis  the  ink  of  lovers. 

Bus.    O,  'tis  a  sacred  witness  of  her  love.  100 

So  much  elixir  of  her  Uood  as  this, 
Dropt  in  the  lightest  dame,  would  make  her  firm 
As  heat  to  fire  ;    and*  like  to  all  the  signs. 
Commands  the  life  confin'd  in  all  my  veins ; 
O,  how  it  multiplies  my  blood  with  spirit,  T05 

And  makes  me  apt  fencounter  Death  and  Hell. 
But  come,  kind  father,  you  fetch  me  to  heaven. 
And  to  that  end  your  holy  weed  was  given.  Exeunt 


[SCENA  QUARTA 

A  Room  in  Montsurry's  House] 

Thunder.    Intrat  Umbra  Friar,  and  discovers  Tamyra    . 
Umbra.    Up  witii   tbsae   stupid   though,   still   loahMl 


And  strike  away  this  heartless  toaaos  of  anguiah. 


68  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act»V 

Be  like  the  snn,  an4  labour  in  eclipses ; 

Look  to  the  end  of  woes :   oh,  can  3rou  sit 

Mustering  the  horrors  of  your  servant's  slaughter  $ 

Before  your  contemi^tion,  and  not  study 

How  to  prevent  it  ?    Watch  when  he  shall  rise. 

And  with  a  sudden  outcry  of  his  murther,  '  -^ 

Blow  his  retreat  before  he  be  revenged. 

Tarn.    O  father,  have  my  dumb  woes  wak'd  your  death  ?        xo 
When  will  our  human  gtiefa  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. 

Umbra.    It  is  the  misery  of  our  creation,  ,     15 

Your  true  friend, 

Led  by  your  husband,  shadow'd  in  my  weed. 
Now  enters  the  dark  vault. 

Tarn.  But,  my  dearest  father. 

Why  will  not  you  appear  to  him  yourself. 
And  see  that  none  of  these  deceits  annoy  him  ?  20 

Ufnbra.    My  power  is  limited  ;   alas  1    I  cannot. 
All  that  I  can  do— See,  the  cave  opens  1 

Exit.    D'Ambois  ^appears]  at  the  Gulf 

Tarn,    Away,  my  love,  away  !  Thou  wilt  be  murther'd. 

Enter  Monsieur  and  Guise  above. 

Bus,    Murther'd  ?    I  know  not  what  that  Hebrew  means : 
That  word  had  ne'er  been  nam'd  had  all  been  D'Ambois.         25 
Murther'd  ?    By  heaven,  he  is  my  murtherer 
That  shows  me  not  a  murtherer ;   what  such  bug 
Abhorreth  not  the  very  sleep  of  D'Ambois  ? 
Murther'd  ?    Who  dares  give  all  the  room  I  see 
To  D'Ambois'  reach,  or  look  with  any  odds  30 

His  fight  i'th'  face,  upon  whose  hand  sits  death, 
Whose  sword  hath  wings,  and  every  feather  piercetii  ? 
If  I  scape  Monsieur's  'pothecary  shops, 
Foutre  for  Guise's  shambles  !     'Twas  ill  plotted ; 
They  should  have  maul'd  me  here,  when  I  was  rising.  35 

I  am  up  and  ready. 

Let  in  my  poUtic  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  &kte.  '    40 


/'.A 


Sd  4l  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  69 

-   .    '  V     Why  enter  not  the  coward  villains  ? 
Bus.    Dare  they  not  come  ? 

Enter  Mnrtherers  wiih  [Umbra]  Friar  at  the  other  door 

Tarn.  They  come. 

First  Mar.  Come  all. at  once. 

Umbra.    Back,  coward  mmilierers,  back! 

Omnes.  Defend  us,  heaven! 

Exeunt  all  but  the  first  [Murtherer]  ' 

First  Mur.    Come  ye  not  on  ? 

Bus.  No^  slave,  nor  goest  thou  off. 

Stand  3ron  so  firm  ?     [Strikes  him  with  his  sword!\    Will  it 

not  enter  here  ?  45 

You  have  a  face  yet.    [KiUs  the  first  Murtheren]    So  !  In  thy 

life's  flame 
I  bum  the  first  rites  to  my  mistress'  fame. 

Umbra.    Breathe  thee,  brave  son,  against  the  other  charge. 

Bus.    Oh,  is  it  true  then  that  my  sense  first  told  me  ? 
Is  my  kind  father  dead  ? 

Tarn.  He  is,  my  love.  50 

Twas  the  Earl,  my  husband,  in  his  weed,  that  brought  thee. 

Bus.    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  55 

Of  these  base  villains,  nor  the  light  reports 
Of  hlister'd  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  60 

A  life  to  her  renown,  that  ever  yet 
Hath  been  untainted*  even  in  envy's  eye. 
And,  where  it  would  protect,  a  sanctuary. 
Kave  Earl*  come  forth,  and  keep  your  scandal  in : 
'Tis  not  our  fault,  if  you  enforce  the  spot  65 

Nor  the  wreak  yours,  if  you  perform  it  not. 

EfUer  Montsurry,  with  all  the  MurtherexB 

Moni.    Cowards,  a  fiend  or  spirit  beat  ye  off  ? 
They  are  your  own  faint  spirits  that  have  forg'd 
The  fearful  shadows  that  your  eyes  delude : 
The  ^ea:id  was  in  you  ;   cast  him  out  then,  thus.  70 


TO  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [ActV 

[Th^  fight.']  D'Ambois  hath  Montsurry  down 
Tarn,    Favour  my  lord,  my  love,  O,  favour  him ! 
Bus.    I  will  not  touch  him :    take  your  life,  my  lord. 

And  be  appeas'd.    Pistols  shot  within.     [Bussy  is  wounded] 

O,  then  the  coward  Fates 

Have  maim'd  themselves,  and  ever  lost  their  honour. 

Ufpibra.    What  have  ye  done,  slaves  ?  Irreligious  iofd  !        75 
Bus.    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  80 

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.  85 

Nothing  is  made  of  nought,  of  all  things  made. 

Their  abstract  being  a  dream  but  of  a  shade. 

I'U  not  complain  to  earth  yet,  but  to  heaven. 

And,  like  a  man,  look  upwards  even  in  death. 

And  if  Vespasian  thought  in  majesty  90 

An  emperor  might  die  standing,  why  not  I  ? 

She  offers  $0  help  him 

Nay,  without  help,  in  which  I  will  exceed  him  ; 

For  he  died  splinted  with  his  chamber  grooms. 

Prop  me,  true  sword,  as  thou  hast  ever  done  ! 

The  equal  thought  I  bear  of  life  and  death  95 

Shall  make  me  faint  on  no  side  ;   I  am  up ; 

Here  like  a  Roman  statue  I  will  stand 

TiU  death  hath  made  me  marble.    Oh,  my  fame. 

Live  in  despite  of  murther  I   Take  thy  wings 

And  haste  thee  where  the  grey  ey'd  Mom  perfumes  xoo 

Her  rosy  chariot  with  Sabaean  spices ! 

Fly,  where  the  Evening  from  th'  Iberian  vales 

TaJces  on  her  swarthy  shoulders  Hecate, 

Crown'd  with  a  grove  of  oaks :    fly  where  men  feel 

The  burning  axletree,  and  those  that  sufiEer  X05 

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 


Sc.4]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  71 

Beheld  in  me)  may  quit  my  worthless  fall  no 

With  a  fit  volley  for  my  funeral. 

Umbra.    Forgive  thy  murtherers. 

Bus.  I  forgive  them  all ; 

And  youy  my  lord  [to  Montsurry],  their  fautor  ;  for  true  sign 
Of  which  unfeign'd  remission  take  my  sword ; 
Take  it,  and  only  give  it  motion,  115 

And  it  shall  find  the  way  to  victory 
By  his  own  brightness,  and  th'  inherent  valour 
My  fight  hath  stiU'd  into't  with  charms  of  spirit 
Now  let  me  pray  you  that  my  weighty  blood 
Laid  in  one  scale  of  your  impartial  spleen,  120 

May  sway  the  forfeit  of  my  worthy  love 
Weighed  in  the  other  ;  and  be  recondl'd 
With  all  forgiveness  to  your  matchless  wife. 

Tarn.     Forgive  thou  me,  dear  servant,  and  this  hand 
That  led  thy  life  to  this  unworthy  end  ;  125 

Forgive  it,  for  the  blood  with  wliich  '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  imbru'd  130 

For  thy  dear  pardon. 

Bus.  O,  my  heart  is  broken  I 

Fate  nor  these  murtherers.  Monsieur  nor  the  Guise, 
Have  any  glory  in  my  death,  but  this. 
This  killing  spectacle,  this  prodigy : 

My  sun  is  tum'd  to  blood,  in  whose  red  beams  135 

Pindus  and  Ossa  (hid  in  drifts  of  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.  140 

O  frail  condition  of  strength,  valour,  virtue. 
In  me  (like  warning  fire  upon  the  top 
Of  some  steep  beacon,  on  a  steeper  lull) 
Made  to  express  it:    like  a  falling  star 

Silently  g^anc'd,  that  like  a  thunderbolt  i45 

Look'd  to  have  stuck  and  shook  the  firmament. 

Moritur 

Umbra.     Farewell,  brave  relics  of  a  complete  man. 
Look  up  and  see  thy  spirit  made  a  star ; 
Join  flames  with  Hercules,  and  when  thou  sett'st 


72  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  V 

Thy  radiant  forehead  in  the  firmament,  150 

MaJce  the  vast  crystal  crack  with  thy  receipt ; 

Spread  to  a  world  of  fire,  and  the  aged  sky 

Cheer  with  new  sparks  of  old  humanity. 

[To  Montsurry]    Son  of  the  earth,  whom  my  unrested  soul. 

Rues  t'have  begotten  in  the  faith  of  heaven,  155 

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 

Manlessly  digg'd  in  her,  be  eas'd  and  cur'd  160 

With  balm  of  thine  own  tears ;   or  be  assur'd 

Never  to  rest  free  from  my  haunt  and  horror. 

Mont*    See  how  she  merits  this  ;   still  kneeling  by. 
And  mourning  his  fall  more  than  her  own  fault ! 

Umbra.  Remove,  dear  daughter,  and  content  thy  husband  ;  165 
So  piety  wills  thee,  and  thy  servant's  peace. 

[Exit  Umbra] 

Tarn.    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,  170 

The  duty  of  my  friend  I  leave  undone : 
111  pla3rB  on  both  sides  ;   here  and  there,  it  riseth  ; 
No  pkice,  no  good,  so  good,  but  ill  compriseth  ; 
O  had  I  never  married  but  for  form. 

Never  vow'd  faith  but  purpos'd  to  deceive,  175 

Never  made  conscience  of  any  sin. 
But  doak'd  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  honour'd  ;  180 

Liv'd  without  envy ;   custom  had  benumb'd 
All  sense  of  scruple  and  all  note  of  frailty  ; 
My  fame  had  been  untouch'd,  my  heart  unbroken : 
But  (shunning  aU)  I  strike  on  aU  ofience, 
O  husband  !   Dear  friend  I    O  my  conscience  !  185 

Mons.    Come,  let's  away ;   my  senses  are  not  proof 
Against  those  plaints. 

Exeunt  Guise  and  Monsieur.    D'Ambois  is  borne  off 

Mont,    1  must  not  yield  to  pity,  nor  to  love 
So  servile  and  so  traitorous :   cease,  my  blood. 
To  wrestle  with  my  honour,  fame,  and  judgment :  190 


Sc.  4]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  73 

Away,  forsake  my  house,  forbear  complaints 
Where  thou  hast  bred  them :    here  [are]  all  things 
Of  their  own  shame  and  sorrow ;   leave  my  house. 

Tarn.    Sweet  lord,  forgive  me,  and  I  will  be  gone. 
And  tin  these  wounds  (that  never  balm  shall  close  195 

Till  death  hath  entered  at  them,  so  I  love  them. 
Being  open'd  by  your  hands)  by  death  be  cur'd, 
I  never  more  will  grieve  you  with  my  sight. 
Never  endure  that  any  roof  shall  part 

Bline  eyes  and  heaven  ;   but  to  the  open  deserts  200 

(Like  to  a  hunted  tigress)  I  will  fly. 
Eating  my  heart,  shunning  the  steps  of  men. 
And  look  on  no  side  tiU  I  be  arriv'd. 

Mont.    I  do  forgive  thee,  and  upon  my  knees, 
With  hands  held  up  to  heaven,  wish  that  mine  honour       20$ 
Would  sufier  reconcilement  to  my  love ; 
But  siuce  it  will  not,  honour  never  serve 
My  love  with  flourishing  object,  till  it  sterve  1 
And  as  this  taper,  though  it  upwards  look. 
Downwards  must  needs  consume,  so  let  our  love !  210 

As,  having  lost  his  honey,  the  sweet  taste 
Runs  into  savour,  and  will  needs  retain 
A  spice  of  his  first  parents,  tUl,  like  life, 
It  sees  and  dies ;   so  let  our  love  !    And  lastly. 
As  when  the  flame  is  sufler'd  to  look  up,  215 

It  keeps  his  lustre,  but,  being  thus  tum'd  down, 
(His  natural  course  of  useful  light  inverted). 
His  own  stufi  puts  it  out,  so  let  our  love  I 
Now  turn  from  me,  as  here  I  turn  from  thee. 
And  may  both  points  of  heaven's  straight  axle-tree  220 

Conjoin  in  one,  before  thyself  and  me. 

Exeuni  sweraUy 

FINIS  ACTUS  gUINTI  BT  ULTIlfl 


74  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


EPILOGUE 

With  many  hands  you  have  seen  D'Ambois  slain, 

Yet  by  your  grace  he  may  revive  again. 

And  every  day  grow  stronger  in  his  skill 

To  please,  as  we  presume  he  is  in  wilL 

The  best  deserving  actors  of  the  time  5 

Had  their  ascents ;   and  by  degrees  did  climb 

To  their  full  height,  a  place  to  study  due. 

To  make  him  tread  in  their  path  lies  in  you  ; 

He'll  not  forget  his  makers,  but  still  prove 

His  thankfulness,  as  you  increase  your  love.  lo 

FINIS 


THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


A  TRAGEDY 


The  Revenge  of  Bussy  d'Ambois 

A  TRAGEDY 

TO 

THE  RIGHT  VIRTUOUS  AND  TRULY  NOBLE  KNIGHT 

SIR  THOMAS  HOWARD,  Etc. 
Sni— 

Since  works  of  this  kind  have  been  lately  esteemed 
worthy  the  patronage  of  some  of  oar  worthiest  nobles,  I  have 
made  no  donbt  to  prefer  this  of  mine  to  your  undoubted  virtue 
and  exceeding  true  noblesse,  as  containing  matter  no  less  deserving 
your  reading,  and  excitation  to  heroical  life,  than  any  such  late 
dedication.  Nor  have  the  greatest  Prinees  of  Italy  and  other 
countries  conceived  it  any  least  diminution  to  their  greatness  to 
have  their  names  winged  with  these  tragic  plumes,  and  dispersed 
by  way  of  patronage  through  the  most  noble  notices  of  Europe. 

Howsoever  therefore  in  the  scenical  presentation  it  might 
meet  with  some  maligners,  yet  considering  even  therein  it  passed 
with  approbation  of  more  worthy  judgments,  the  balance  of  their 
side  (especially  being  held  by  your  impartial  hand)  I  hope  will 
to  no  grain  abide  the  out-weighing.  And  for  the  autentical 
truth  of  either  person  or  action,  who  (worth  the  respecting)  will 
expect  it  in  a  poem,  whose  subject  is  not  truth,  but  things  like 
truth  ?  Poor  envious  souls  they  are  that  cavil  at  truth's  want 
in  these  natural  fictions ;  material  instruction,  elegant  and 
sententious  excitation  to  virtue,  and  deflection  from  her  contrary, 
being  the  soul,  limbs,  and  limits  of  an  autentical  tragedy.  But 
whatsoever  merit  of  your  fuU  countenance  and  favour  suffers 
defect  in  this,  I  shall  soon  supply  with  some  other  of  more  general 
account:  wherein  your  right  virtuous  name  made  famous  and 
preserved  to  posterity,  your  future  comfort  and  honour  in  your 
present  acceptation,  and  love  of  all  virtuous  and  divine  expres- 
sion, may  be  so  much  past  others  of  your  rank  increased^  as  they 
are  short  of  your  judicial  ingenuity  in  their  due  estimation, 

77 


78  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

For,  howsoever  those  ignoble  and  sonr-farowed  worldlmgs 
are  careless  of  whatsoever  future  or  present  opinion  spreads  of 
them,  yet  (with  the  most  divine  philosopher,  if  Scripture  did 
not  confirm  it)  I  make  it  matter  of  my  faith,  that  we  truly  retain 
an  intellectual  feeling  of  good  or  bad  after  this  life,  proportionably 
answerable  to  the  love  or  neglect  we  bear  here  to  all  virtue,  and 
truly  humane  instruction :  in  whose  favour  and  honour  I  wish 
you  most  eminent ;   and  rest  ever. 

Your  true  virtue's 

Most  true  observer, 

GEO.  CHAPMAN 


THE  ACTORS'  NAMES 


Henxy,  the 

King 

Perricot,  an  Usher  [to  Guise] 

Monsieur,  his  brother 

[An  Usher  to  the  Countess] 

Guise,  a  Duke 

The  Guard 

Renel,  a  Marquess 

Soldiers 

Montsurry,  an  Earl 

Servants 

Baligny,    Lord-Lieutenant    [of 

/  Bussy 

Cambrai] 

Monsieur 

Clermont  d'Ambois 

Theghost[sliof{  Guise 

Maillard,  ' 

Cardinal  Guise 

Chalon, 

•   captains 

V  Cha.tillon 

Aumale,    , 

The  Countess  of  Cambrai 

Epemon, 

Tamyra,  wife  to  Montsurry. 

Soissons, 

Charlotte,  wife  to  Baligny 

Riova,  a  servi 

int 

80 


ACTUS  PRIMI  SCENA  PRIMA 

[A.  Room  in  the  Courf\ 
Enter  Baligny  and  Renel 

Bal.    To  what  will  this  declining  kingdom  turn. 
Swinging  in  every  licence,  as  in  this 
Stupid  permission  of  brave  D'Ambois'  mnrther  ? 
Mnrther  made  parallel  with  law !    Murther  us'd 
To  serve  the  kingdom,  given  by  suit  to  men  5 

For  their  advancement,  suffer'd  scarecrow-Uke 
To  fright  adultery  I    What  will  policy 
At  length  bring  under  his  capacity  ? 

Ren,    All  things  :  for  as  when  the  high  births  of  kings. 
Deliverances,  and  coronations,  lo 

We  celebrate  with  aU  the  cities'  bells 
Jangling  together  in  untun'd  confusion. 
All  order'd  clocks  are  tied  up ;  so  when  glory. 
Flattery,  and  smooth  applauses  of  things  ill. 
Uphold  th'  inordinate  swinge  of  downright  power,  15 

Justice  and  truth,  that  tell  the  bounded  use. 
Virtuous  and  well-distinguish'd  forms  of  time 
Are  gagg'd  and  tongue-tied.    But  we  have  observed 
Rule  in  more  regular  motion :   things  most  lawful 
Were  once  most  royal ;   kings  sought  common  good,  20 

Men's  manly  liberties,  though  ne'er  so  mean. 
And  had  their  own  swinge  so  more  free,  and  more. 
But  when  pride  enter'd  them,  and  rule  by  power. 
All  brows  that  smil'd  beneath  them,  frown'd  ;  hearts  griev'd 
By  imitation  ;   virtue  quite  was  vanish'd,  25 

And  all  men  studied  self-love,  fraud,  and  vice  ; 
Then  no  man  could  be  good  but  he  was  punish'd : 
Tyrants  being  .still  more  fearful  of  the  good 
Than  of  the  bad ;   their  subjects'  virtues  ever 
Manag'd  with  curbs  and  dangers,  and  esteem'd  30 

As  shadows  and  detractions  to  their  own. 

CD.W.  »  G 


82  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  I 

Bal,    Now  all  is  peace,  no  danger :    now  what  follows  ? 
Idleness  rusts  us,  since  no  virtuous  labour 
Ends  ought  rewarded :    ease,  security, 

Now  all  the  palm  wears :   we  made  war  before  35 

So  to  prevent  war ;   men  with  giving  gifts. 
More  than  receiving,  made  our  country  strong ; 
Our  matchless  race  of  soldiers  then  would  spend 
In  public  wars,  not  private  brawls,  their  spirits, 
In  daring  enemies,  arm'd  with  meanest  arms,  40 

Not  courting  strumpets,  and  consuming  birthrights 
In  apishness  and  envy  of  attire. 
No  labour  then  was  harsh,  no  way  so  deep. 
No  rock  so  steep,  but  if  a  bird  could  scale  it, 
Up  would  our  youth  fly  too.     A  foe  in  arms  45 

Stirr'd  up  a  much  more  lust  of  his  encounter, 
Than  of  a  mistress  never  so  be-painted : 
Ambition  then,  was  only  scaling  walls. 
And  over-topping  turret  ;   fame  was  wealth  ; 
Best  parts,  best  deeds,  were  best  nobility ;  50 

Honour  with  worth,  and  wealth  well  got  or  none : 
Countries  we  won  with  as  few  men  as  countries ; 
Virtue  subdu'd  aU. 

Ren.  Just:    and  then  our  nobles 

Lov'd  virtue  so,  they  prais'd  and  us'd  it  too : 
Had  rather  do  than  say,  their  own  deeds  hearing  55 

By  others  glorified,  than  be  so  barren 
That  their  parts  only  stood  in  praising  others. 

Bal.    Who  could  not  do,  yet  prais'd,  and  envied  not ; 
Civil  behaviour  flourished  ;   bounty  flow'd  ; 
Avarice  to  upland  boors,  slaves,  hangmen,  banish'd.  60 

Ren.     'Tis  now  quite  otherwise :    but  to  note  the  cause 
Of  all  these  foul  digressions  and  revolts 
From  our  first  natures,  this  'tis  in  a  word : 
Since  good  arts  fail,  crafts  and  deceits  are  us'd ; 
Men  ignorant  are  idle  ;    idle  men  65 

Most  practise  what  they  most  may  do  with  ease. 
Fashion,  and  favour ;   all  their  studies  aiming 
At  getting  money,  which  no  wise  man  ever 
Fed  his  desires  witti. 

Bal.  Yet  now  none  are  wise 

That  think  not  heaven's  tru[th]  foolish,  weigh'd  with  that.     70 
Well,  thou  most  worthy  to  be  greatest  Ghiise, 
Make  witti  thy  greatness  a  new  world  arise. 


Sc.  I]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  83 

Such  depress'd  nobles,  followers  of  his. 

As  yon,  [j^niself],  my  lord,  will  find  a  time 

When  to  revenge  yonr  wrongs. 
Ren,  I  make  no  doubt:  75 

In  mean  time,  I  could  wish  the  wrong  were  righted 

Of  your  slain  brother-in-law,  brave  Bussy  d'Ambois. 
Bal.    That  one  accident  was  made  my  charge. 

My  brother  Bussy's  sister,  now  my  wife. 

By  no  suit  would  consent  to  satisfy  80 

My  love  of  her  with  marriage,  till  I  vow'd, 

To  use  my  utmost  to  revenge  my  brother : 

But  Qermont  d'Ambois,  Buss3r's  second  brother, 

Had,  since,  his  apparition  and  excitement 

To  snfier  none  but  his  hand  in  his  wreak,  85 

Which  he  ha'tti  vow'd,  and  so  will  needs  acquit 

Me  of  my  vow,  made  to  my  wife,  his  sister. 

And  undertake  himself  Bussy's  revenge ; 

Yet  loathing  any  way  to  give  it  act. 

But  in  the  noblest  and  most  manly  course,  90 

If  th'  Earl  dares  take  it,  he  resolves  to  send 

A  challenge  to  him,  and  myself  must  bear  it ; 

To  which  delivery  I  can  use  no  means. 

He  is  so  bamcado'd  in  his  house. 

And  arm'd  with  guard  still.  95 

Ren,  That  means  lay  on  me. 

Which  I  can  strangely  make.    My  last  lands'  sale. 
By  his  great  suit,  stamds  now  on  price  with  him. 
And  he,  as  you  know,  passing  covetous, 
With  that  blind  greediness  that  follows  gain, 
WiD  cast  no  danger  where  her  sweet  feet  tread.  100 

Besides,  you  know,  his  lady  by  his  suit, 
(Wooing  as  freshly,  as  when  fist  Love  shot 
His  faultless  arrows  from  her  rosy  eyes) 
Now  lives  with  him  again,  and  she,  I  know. 
Win  join  with  all  helps  in  her  friend's  revenge.  105 

Bal,    No  doubt,  my  lord,  and  therefore  let  me  pray  you 
To  use  all  speed ;   for  so  on  needles'  points 
My  wife's  heart  stands  with  haste  of  the  xevenge. 
Beings  as  you  know,  full  of  her  brother's  fire. 
That  she  imagines  I  neglect  my  vow  ;  1 10 

Keeps  off  her  kind  embraces,  and  stiU  asks, 
'  When,  when,  will  this  revenge  come  ?  When  perform'd 
Win  this  dnU  vow  be  ? '  and,  I  vow  to  heaven, 


84  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  I 

So  sternly,  and  so  past  her  sex  she  urges 

My  vow's  performance,  that  I  almost  fear  115 

To  see  her,  when  I  have  awhile  been  absent, 

Not  showing  her,  before  I  speak,  the  blood 

She  so  much  thirsts  for,  freckling  hands  and  face. 

Ren,    Get  you  the  challenge  writ,  and  look  from  me 
To  hear  your  passage  clear'd  no  long  time  after.  120 

Exit  Renel 

Bal.     All  restitution  to  your  worthiest  lordship 
Whose  errand  I  must  carry  to  the  King, 
As  having  sworn  my  service  in  the  search 
Of  all  such  malcontents  and  their  designs. 
By  seeming  one  afiected  with  their  faction  125 

And  discontented  humours  gainst  the  state: 
Nor  doth  my  brother  Clermont  scape  my  counsel 
Given  to  the  King  about  his  Guisean  greatness. 
Which,  as  I  spice  it,  hath  possessed  the  King 
(Knowing  his  daring  spirit)  of  much  danger  130 

Charg'd  in  it  to  his  person  ;   though  my  conscience 
Dare  swear  him  clear  of  any  power  to  be 
Infected  with  the  least  dishonesty: 
Yet  that  sincerity,  we  politicians 

Must  say,  grows  out  of  envy,  sinpe  it  cannot  135 

Aspire  to  policy's  greatness ;   and  the  more 
We  work  on  all  respects  of  kind  and  virtue. 
The  more  our  service  to  the  King  seems  great. 
In  sparing  no  good  that  seems  bad  to  him : 
And  the  more  bad  we  make  the  most  of  good,  140 

The  more  our  pohcy  searcheth,  and  our  service 
Is  wonder'd  at  for  wisdom  and  sincereness. 
'Tis  easy  to  make  good  suspected  still, 
Where  good  and  God  are  made  but  cloaks  for  ill. 

Enter  Henry,  Monsieur,  Guise,  Clermont,  Epemon,  Soissons. 
Monsieur  taking  leave  of  the  King,  [whQ  then  goes  oui\ 

See  Monsieur  taking  now  his  leave  for  Brabant,  145 

The  Guise,  and  his  dear  minion,  Clermont  d'Ambois, 

Whispering  together,  not  of  state  affairs 

I  durst  lay  wagers  (though  the  Guise  be  now 

In  chief  heat  of  his  faction),  but  of  something 

Savouring  of  that  which  all  men  else  despise. 

How  to  be  truly  noble,  truly  wise. 


Sc.  I]      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  85 

Mon.    See  how  he  hangs  upon  the  ear  of  Guise, 
like  to  his  jewel. 

Ep.  He's  now  whispering  in 

Some  doctrine  of  stability  and  freedom,  \ 

Contempt  of  outward  greatness,  and  the  guises      \  155 

That  vulgar  great  ones  make  their  pride  and  zeal. 
Being  only  servile  trains,  and  sumptuous  houses, 
Hi|^  places,  offices. 

Man,  Contempt  of  these 

Does  he  read  to  the  Guise  ?    'Tis  passing  needful ; 
And  he,  I  think,  makes  show  t'affect  his  doctrine.  160 

Ep,    Commends,  admires  it — 

Mon.  And  pursues  another. 

'Tis  fine  hypocrisy,  and  cheap,  and  vulgar. 
Known  for  a  covert  practice,  yet  behev'd. 
By  those  abus'd  souls  that  they  teach  and  govern 
No  more  than  wives*  adulteries  by  their  husbands,  165 

They  bearing  it  with  so  unmov'd  aspects. 
Hot  coming  from  it,  as  'twere  not  [at]  all. 
Or  made  by  custom  nothing.    This  same  D'Ambois 
Hath  gotten  such  opinion  of  his  virtues. 
Holding  all  learning  but  an  art  to  live  well,  170 

And  showing  he  hath  leam'd  it  in  his  life. 
Being  thereby  strong  in  his  persuading  others,       "'.^' 
That  this  ambitious  Guise,  embracing  him,  '' 

Is  thought  fembrace  his  virtues. 

Ep.  Yet  in  some 

His  virtues  are  held  false  for  th'  other's  vices :  175 

For  'tis  more  cunning  held,  and  much  more  common. 
To  suspect  truth  than  falsehood :  and  of  both 
Tznth  still  fares  worse,  as  hardly  being  believ'd. 
As  'tis  unusual  and  rarely  known. 

Mon.    Ill  part  engendering  virtue.    Men  affirm  180 

Though  this  same  Clermont  hath  a  D'Ambois'  spirit. 
And  breathes  his  brother's  valour,  yet  his  temper 
Is  so  much  past  his,  that  you  cannot  move  him :    ? 
Ill  try  that  temper  in  him.  [To  Guise  and  Qermont]  Come, 

you  two 
Devour  each  other  with  your  virtue's  zeal,  185 

And  leave  for  other  friends  no  fragment  of  ye : 
I  wonder.  Guise,  you  will  thus  ravish  him  '  ''■  '^'  ' 

Out  of  my  bosom  that  first  gav^  the  life  '  ' 

manhood  breathes,  spirit;  and  means,  and  lustre.  '"' 


86  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  I 

What  do  men  think  of  me,  I  pray  thee»  Clermont  ?  190 

Once  give  me  leave  (for  trial  of  that  love 
That  from  thy  brother  Bussy  thou  inherit'st) 
T' unclasp  thy  bosom. 

Cler.  As  how»  sir  ? 

Man.    Be   a  true  glass  to  me,  in  which  I  may 
Behold  what  thoughts  the  many-headed  beast,  195 

And  thou  thyself,  breathes  out  concerning  me. 
My  ends,  and  new-upstarted  state  in  Brabant, 
For  which  I  now  am  bound,  my  higher  aims 
Imagined  here  in  France :   speak,  man,  and  let 
Thy  words  be  bom  as  naked  as  thy  thoughts :  200 

Oh,  were  brave  Bussy  living  I 

Cler.  '  Living,'  my  lord  ? 

Man,    'Tis  true  thou  art  his  brother,  byt  durst  thou  . 
Have  brav'd  the  Guise;  maugre  his  presence  courted 
His  wedded  lady ;   emptied  even  the  dregs 
Of  his  worst  thoughts  of  me  even  to  my  teeth  ;  205 

Discem'd  not  me,  his  rising  sovereign* 
From  any  common  groom,  but  let  me  hear 
My  grossest  faults  as  gross-full  as  they  were  ? 
Durst  thou  do  this  ? 

Cler,  I  cannot  tell :    a  man 

Does  never  know  the  goodness  of  his  stomach  210 

Till  he  sees  meat  before  him.    Were  I  dar'd. 
Perhaps,  as  he  was,  I  durst  do  like  him. 

Mon.    Dare  then  to  pour  out  here  thy  freest  soul 
Of  what  I  am. 

Cler.  'Tis  stale  ;   he  told  you  it. 

Mon.    He  only  jested,  spake  of  spleen  and  envy;  215 

Thy  soul,  more  learn'd,  is  more  ingenious. 
Searching,  judicial ;   let  me  then  from  thee 
Hear  what  I  am. 

Cler.  What  but  the  sole  support. 

And  most  expectant  hope  of  all  our  France, 
The  toward  victor  of  the  whole  Low  Countries  ?  220 

Mon.    Tush,  thou  wilt  sing  encomions  of  my  praise  ! 
Is  this  like  D'Ambois  ?    I  must  vex  the  Guise, 
Or  never  look  to  hear  free  truth  ;   tell  me. 
For  Bussy  lives  not ;   he  durst  anger  me. 
Yet,  for  my  love,  would  not  have  fear'd  to  anger  225 

The  King  himself.    Thou  understand'st  me,  dost  not  ? 

Cler,    I  shall,  my  lord,  with  study. 


Sc.  I]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  87 

Mon,    Dost  understand  thyself  ?    I  pray  thee  tell  me. 
Dost  never  search  thy  thoughts  what  my  design 
Might  be  to  entertain  thee  and  thy  brother,  330 

What  turn  I  meant  to  serve  with  jrou  ? 

Cl&r.     Even  what  you  please  to  think. 

Mon.  But  what  think'st  thou  ? 

Had  I  no  end  in't,  think'st  ? 

Cl&r.  I  think  you  had. 

JIf  on.    When  I  took  in  such  two  as  you  two  were, 
A  ragged  couple  of  decay'd  commanders,  335 

When  a  French  crown  would  plentifully  serve 
To  buy  you  both  to  anything  i'  th'  eaurth. 

CUr.    So  it  would  you. 

Mon,  Nay,  bought  you  both  outright. 

You,  and  your  trunks — I  fear  me,  I  offend  thee. 

Cler.    No,  not  a  jot. 

Mon.  The  most  renowned  soldier,  240 

Epaminondas  (as  good  authors  say), 
Had  no  more  suits  than  backs,  but  you  two  shar'd 
But  one  suit  'twixt  you  both,  when  both  your  studies 
Were  not  what  meat  to  dine  with,  if  your  partridge. 
Your  snipe,  your  wood-cock,  lark,  or  your  red  herring,        245 
But  where  to  beg  it ;    whether  at  my  house 
Or  at  the  Guise's  (for  you  know  you  were 
Ambitious  beggars),  or  at  some  cook's-shop, 
T'etemize  the  cook's  trust,  and  score  it  up. 
Does't  not  offend  thee  ? 

Cler.  No,  sir.     Pray  proceed.  250 

Mon,    As  for  thy  gentry,  I  dare  boldly  take 
Thy  honourable  oath  :    and  yet  some  say 
Thou  and  thy  most  renowned  noble  brother. 
Came  to  the  Court  first  in  a  keel  of  sea-coal ; 
Does't  not  offend  thee  ?  ^ 

Cler.  Never  doubt  it,  sir.  255 

Mon.    Why  do  I  love  thee,  then  ?  Why  have  I  rak'd  thee 
Out  of  the  dung-hiU,  cast  my  cast  wardrobe  on  thee  ? 
Brought  thee  to  Court  too,  as  I  did  thy  brother  ? 
Made  ye  my  saucy  boon  companions  ? 

Taught  ye  to  call  our  greatest  noblemen  260 

By  the  corruption  of  their  names.  Jack,  Tom  ? 
Have  I  blown  both  for  nothing  to  this  bubble  ? 
Though  thou  art  leam'd*  th'ast  no  enchanting  wit ; 
Or  were  thy  wit  good»  am  I  therefore  bound 


88  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  I 

To  keep  thee  for  my  table  ? 

Cler.  Well,  sir,  'twere  265 

A  good  knight's  place.    Many  a  proud  dubb'd  gallant 
Seeks  out  a  poor  knight's  living  from  such  emrods. 

[MonsJ]    C^  what  use  else  should  I  design  thee  to  ? 
Perhaps  you'll  answer  me,  to  be  my  pander. 

Clef.    Perhaps  I  shall. 

Mon.  Or  did  the  sly  Guise  put  thee     270 

Into  my  bosom  t'undermine  my  projects  ? 
I  fear  thee  not ;   for  though  I  be  not  sure 
I  have  thy  heart,  I  know  thy  brain-pan  yet 
To  be  as  empty  a  dull  piece  of  wainscot 
As  ever  arm'd  the  scalp  of  any  courtier ;  275 

A  fellow  only  that  consists  of  sinews, 
Mere  Swisser,  apt  for  any  execution. 

Cler,    But  killing  of  the  King ! 

Mon.  Right ;   now  I  see 

Thou  understand'st  thyself. 

Cler,  Ay,  and  you  better: 

You  are  a  king's  son  bom. 

Mon.  Right  I 

Cler.  And  a  king's  brother.  280 

Mon.    True ! 

Cler.    And  might  not  any  fool  have  been  so  too. 
As  well  as  you  ? 

Mon.    A  pox  upon  you  ! 

Cler.  You  did  no  princely  deeds 

Ere  you're  bom,  I  take  it,  to  deserve  it ;  285 

Nor  did  you  any  since  that  I  have  heard  ; 
Nor  will  do  ever  any,  as  all  think. 

Mon,    The  devil  take  him !    I'll  no  more  of  him. 

Guise,    Nay:  stay,  my  lord,  and  hear  him  answer  you. 

Mon.    No  more,  I  swear.     Farewell  1 

Exeunt  Monsieur,  Epemon,  Soissons 

Guise.  No  more  ?     1)1  fortune  I  290 

I  would  have  given  a  million  to  have  heard 
His  scofis  retorted,  and  the  insolence 
/Of  his  high  birth  and  greatness  (which  were  never 
Effects  of  his  deserts,  but  of  his  fortune) 
Made  show  to  his  dull  eyes  beneath  the  worth  295 

That  men  aspire  to  by  their  knowing  virtues, 
M^thout  which  greatness  is  a  shade,  a  bubble. 

Cler,    But  what  one  great  man  dreams  of  that  but  you  ? 


Sc.  I]    THE   REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  89 

All  take  their  births  and  birth-rights  left  to  them 

(Acqoiir'd  by  others)  for  their  own  worth's  purchase,  300 

When  many  a  fool  in  both  is  great  as  they : 

And  who  wonld  think  they  could  win  with  their  worths 

Wealthy  possessions,  when,  won  to  their  hands, 

They  neitiier  can  judge  justly  of  their  value, 

Nor  know  their  use  ?  And  therefore  they  are  puffed  305 

With  such  proud  tumours  as  this  Monsieur  is, 

Enabled  only  by  the  goods  they  have 

To  scorn  all  goodness :    none  great  fill  their  fortunes  ; 

But  as  those  men  that  make  their  houses  greater. 

Their  households  being  less,  so  Fortune  raises  310 

Huge  heaps  of  outside  in  these  mighty  men. 

And  gives  them  nothing  in  them. 

Guise.  True  as  truth  : 

And  therefore  they  had  rather  drown  their  substance 
In  superfluities  of  bricks  and  stones 

(like  S]S3rphus,  advancing  of  them  ever,  315 

And  ever  pulling  down),  than  lay  the  cost 
Of  any  sluttish  comer  on  a  man. 
Built  with  God's  finger,  and  enstyl'd  his  temple. 

Bal.     'Tis  nobly  said,  my  lord. 

Guise.  I  would  have  these  things 

Brought  upon  stages,  to  let  mighty  misers  320 

See  aU  their  grave  and  serious  miseries  i^3r'd, 
As  once  they  were  in  Athens  and  old  Rome. 

Cler.    Nay,  we  must  now  have  nothing  brought  on  stages 
But  puppetry,  and  pied  ridiculous  antics : 
Men  thither  come  to  laugh,  and  feed  fool-fat,  325 

Check  at  all  goodness  there,  as  being  profan'd  : 
When,  wheresoever  goodness  comes,  she  makes 
The  place  still  sacred,  though  with  other  feet 
Never  so  much  'tis  scandal'd  and  polluted. 
Let  me  learn  anything  that  fits  a  man,  330 

In  any  stables  shown,  as  well  as  stages. 

Bal.    Why,  is  not  all  the  world  esteem'd  a  stage  ? 

Clef.     Yes,  and  right  worthily ;    and  stages  too 
Have  a  respect  due  to  them,  if  but  only. 
For  what  the  good  Greek  moralist  says  of  them :  335 

'  Is  a  man  proud  of  greatness,  or  of  riches  ? 
Give  me  an  expert  actor,  I'U  show  all 
That  can  within  his  greatest  glory  fall 
Is  a  man  fra3r'd  with  poverty  and  lowness  ? 


90  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  I 

Give  me  an  actor,  I'll  show  every  eye  340 

What  he  laments  so,  and  so  much  doth  fly. 

The  best  and  worst  of  both/    If  but  for  this  then, 

To  make  the  proudest  outside,  that  most  swells 

With  things  without  him  and  above  his  worth. 

See  how  small  cause  he  has  to  be  so  blown  up,  345 

And  the  most  poor  man  to  be  griev'd  with  poorness^ 

Both  being  so  easily  borne  by  expert  actors, 

The  stage  and  actors  are  not  so  contemptful 

As  every  innovating  Puritan, 

And  ignorant  sweater-out  of  zealous  envy,  350 

Would  have  the  world  imagine.    And  besides 

That  all  things  have  been  liken'd  to  the  mirth 

Us'd  upon  stages,  and  for  stages  fltted. 

The  splenative  philosopher  that  ever 

Laugh'd  at  them  all,  were  worthy  the  enstaging:  355 

All  objects,  were  they  ne'er  so  full  of  tears. 

He  so  conceited  that  he  could  distil  thence 

Matter  that  still  fed  his  ridiculous  humour. 

Heard  he  a  lawyer,  never  so  vehement  pleading 

He  stood  and  laugh'd.    Heard  he  a  tradesman  swearing      360 

Never  so  thriftily  selling  of  his  wares. 

He  stood  and  laugh'd.    Heard  he  an  holy  brother. 

For  hollow  ostentation,  at  his  prayers 

Ne'er  so  impetuously,  he  stood  and  laugh'd. 

Saw  he  a  great  man  never  so  insulting,  365 

Severely  inflicting,  gravely  giving  laws. 

Not  for  their  good,  but  his,  he  stood  and  laugh'd. 

Saw  he  a  youthful  widow 

Never  so  weeping,  wringing  of  her  hands. 

For  her  lost  lord,  still  the  philosopher  laugh'd.  370 

Now  whether  he  suppos'd  ah  these  presentments 

Were  only  maskeries,  and  wore  false  faces, 

Or  else  were  simply  vain,  I  taike  no  care  ; 

But  still  he  laugh'd,  how  grave  soe'er  they  were. 

Guise,    And  might  right  well,  my  Clermont ;  and  for  this      375 
Virtuous  digression,  we  will  thank  the  scofis 
Of  vicious  Monsieur.    But  now  for  the  main  point 
Of  your  late  resolution  for  revenge 
Of  your  slain  [brother.] 

Cler.  1  have  here  my  challenge. 

Which  I  will  pray  my  brother  Baligny  380 

To  bear  the  murtherous  EarL 


Sc.  2]      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  lyAMBOIS         gx 

Bal.  I  hare  prep«r'd 

Means  for  access  to  him  through  all  his  guard. 

Guise,    About  it  then,  my  worthy  Baligny, 
And  faring  us  the  saeceas. 

Bal.  I  will,  my  Lord.  EMmmi 


[SCENA  SECUNDA 
A  Room  in  Montsurry's  House} 
TzmyrsL  sola 

Tarn.    Revenge,  that  ever  red  sitt'st  in  the  eyes 
Of  injur'd  ladies,  till  we  crown  thy  brows 
With  bloody  laurel,  and  receive  from  thee 
Justice  for  all  our  [honour's]  injury ; 

Whose  wings  none  fly,  that  wrath  or  tyranny  5 

Have  ruthless  made  and  bloody,  enter  here, 
Enter,  O  enter  \  And,  though  length  of  time 
Never  lets  any  scape  thy  constant  justice. 
Yet  now  prevent  that  length.    Fly,  fly,  and  here 
Fix  thy  steel  footsteps :   here,  O  here,  where  still  10 

Earth,  mov'd  with  pity,  yielded  and  embraced 
My  love's  fair  figure,  drawn  in  his  dear  blood. 
And  mark'd  the  place,  to  show  thee  where  was  done 
The  cruell'st  murther  that  e'er  fled  the  sun. 
O  Earth,  why  Iceep'st  thou  not  as  well  his  spirit  15 

To  give  his  form  life  ?    No,  that  was  not  earthly ; 
That  (rarefying  the  thin  and  yielding  air) 
Flew  sparkling  up  into  the  sphere  of  fire. 
Whence  endless  flames  it  sheds  in  my  desire : 
Here  be  my  daily  pallet ;   here  all  nights  ^ 

That  can  be  wrested  from  thy  rival's  arms, 
O  my  dear  Bussy,  I  will  lie  and  kiss 
Spirit  into  thy  blood,  or  breathe  out  mine 
In  sighs,  and  kisses,  and  sad  tunes  to  thine.        She  sings 

Enter  Montsurry 

Moni.    Still  on  this  haunt  ?    Still  shall  adulterous  blood    25 
Aflect  thy  spirits  ?    Think,  for  shame,  but  this, 
This  blood  that  cockatrice-like  thus  thou  brood'st 
Too  dry  is  to  breed  any  quench  to  thiue. 
And  therefore  now  (if  only  for  thy  lust 


92  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  I 

A  little  cover'd  with  a  veil  of  shame)  30 

Look  out  for  fresh  life,  rather  than  witchlike 

Learn  to  kiss  honor,  and  with  death  engender. 

Strange  cross  in  nature,  purest  virgin  shame 

Lies  in  the  blood,  as  lust  Hes;    cmd  together 

Many  times  mix  too ;    and  in  none  more  shameful  35 

Than  in  the  shamefac'd.    Who  can  then  distinguish 

'Twixt  their  affections  ,*    or  tell  when  he  nUeets 

With  one  not  common  ?    Yet,  as  worthiest  pOets 

Shun  common  and  plebeian  forms  of  speech. 

Every  illiberal  and  affected  phrase,  40 

To  clothe  their  matter ;  and  together  tie 

Matter  and  form  with  art  smd  decency ;.   ' 

So  worthiest  women  should  shun  vulgar  guises. 

And  though  they  cannot  but  fly  out  for  change,; 

Yet  modesty,  the  matter  of  their  lives^  45 

Be  it  adulterate,  should  be  painted  tr^e 

With  modest  out-parts ;    what  they  should  do  still 

Grac'd  with  good  show,  though  deeds  be  ne'er  so  ill. 

Tarn,    That  is  so  far  from  all  ye  seek  of  us. 
That  (though  yourselves  be  common  as  the  air)  50 

We  must  not  take  the  air,  we  must  not  fit 
Our  actions  to  our  own  affections : 
But  as  geometricians,  you  still  say, 
Teach  that  no  lines  nor  supezfldes 

Do  move  themselveSi  but  still  accompany  55 

The  motion?  of  their  bodies ;    so  poor  wives 
Must  not  pursue,  nor  have  their  own  affections;.. 
But  to  their  husbands'  earnests,  and  th^  jest^» 
To  their  austerities  of  looks,  and  laughters 
(Though  ne'er  so  foolish  and  injurious),  60 

Like  parasites  and  slaves,  fit  their  disposures, 

Mont,    I  us'd  thee  as  my  soul,  to  move  and  mle  me. 

Tofn-    So  said  you,  when  you  woo'd.    So  soldiers  tortor'd 
With  tedious  sieges  of  some  well-wall'd  town 
Propound  conditions  of  most  large  contents,  65 

Freedom  of  laws,  all  f onner  government ; 
But  having  once  set  foot  within  the  walls, 
And  got  the  reins  of  power  into  their  hs^ds. 
Then  do  they  tyrannize  at  their  own  rude  sWinges, 
Seize  all  their  goods,  their  liberties,  and  lives,  70 

And  make  advantage  and  their  lusts  their  laws. 

Mont.    But  love  me,  and  perform  a  wile's  part  yt^ 


Sc.  2]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  93 

"With  all  my  love  before  I  swear  forgiveness. 

Tarn,    Forgiveness  I    That  grace  yon  should  seek  of  me  : 
These  tortur'd  fingers  and  these  stabb'd-through  arms  75 

Keep  that  law  in  their  wounds  yet,  unobserved. 
And  ever  shall. 

« 

MoHi.  Remember  their  deeerts. 

Tarn.    Those  with  fair  warnings  might  have  been  reform'd. 
Not  these  unmanly  rages.    You  have  heard 
The  fiction  of  the  north  wind  and  the  sun,  80 

Both  working  on  a  traveller,  and  contending 
Which  had  most  power  to  take  his  cloak  from  him : 
Which  when  the  wind  attempted,  he  roar'd  out 
Outrageous  blasts  at  him  to  force  it  off. 
That  wrapt  it  closer  on  :   when  the  calm  sun  85 

(The  wind  once  leaving)  charged  him  with  still  beams. 
Quiet  and  fervent,  and  therein  was  constant. 
Which  made  him  cast  ofi  both  his  cloak  and  coat ; 
Like  whom  should  men  do.    If  ye  wish  your  wives 
Should  leave  dislik'd  things,  seek  it  not  with  rage,  90 

For  that  enrages ;    what  ye  give,  ye  have : 
But  use  cahn  warnings  and  kind  manly  means. 
And  that  in  wives  most  prostitute  will  win 
Not  only  sure  amends,  but  make  us  wives 
Better  than  those,  that  ne'er  led  faulty  lives.  95 

Enter  c^  Soldier 

Sold,    My  lord ! 

M<mt.  How  now  ?    Would  any  speak  with  me  ? . 

SiM.    Ay,  sir. 

Mont,  Perverse  and  traitorous  miscreant. 

Where  are  3rour  other  fellows  of  my  guard  ? 
Have  I  not  told  you  I  will  speak  with  none 
But  Lord  Renel  ? 

Sold,  And  'tb  he  that  stays  you.  100 

Mont,    O,  is  it  he  ?     'Tis  well ;    attend  him  in  : 
I  must  be  vigUant ;    the  Furies  haunt  me. 
Do  you  hear,  dame  ? 

Enter  Renel  tvith  the  Soldier 

lUn,     [Aside  to  the  Soldier]  Be  true  now  for  your. lady's 
injur'd  sake. 
Whose  bounty  you  have  so  much  cause  to  honour :  105 

For  her  respect  is  chief  in  this  design. 


94  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  I 

And  therefore  serve  it ;   call  out  of  the  way 
All  your  confederate  fellows  of  his  guard. 
Till  Monsieur  Baligny  be  enter'd  here. 

Sold,    Upon  your  honour,  my  lord  shall  be  free  no 

From  any  hurt,  you  say  ? 

Ren.    Free  as  myself.    Watch  then,  and  clear  his  entry. 

Sold.    I  will  not  fafl,  my  lord. 

Exit  Soldier 

JRen.  God  save  your  lordship  I 

Mont.    My  noblest  Lord  Rend,  past  all  men  welcome! 
Wife,  welcome  his  lordship. 

OsdOaiur 

Ren,  I  much  joy  115 

In  your  return  here. 

Tarn,  You  do  more  than  I. 

Mont,    She's  passionate  still,  to  liiink  we  ever  parted. 
By  my  too  stem  injurious  jealousy. 

Ren,    'Tis  well  your  lordship  will  confers  your  ^ror 
In  so  good  time  yet. 


Enier  Baligny  with  a  challenge 

Mont.  Death  I    Who  have  we  here  ?  120 

Ho  1   Ouaid  1  Villains  t 

Bed.  Why  exclaim  you  so  ? 

Mont.    Negligent  traitors  1    Murther,  murther,  murther  1 

Bal.    Y'are  mad.     Had  mine  intent  been  so,  like  yours. 
It  had  been  done  ere  this. 

Ren,  Sir,  your  intent. 

And  action,  too,  was  rude  to  enter  thus.  125 

Bed.    Y'are  a  decay'd  lord  to  tell  me  of  rudeness. 
As  much  decay'd  in  manners  as  in  means. 

Ren.    You  talk  of  manners,  that  thus  rudely  thrust 
Upon  a  man  that's  busy  with  his  wife. 

Bed,    And  kept  your  lordship  then  the  door  ? 

Ren.  The  door  ?  130 

Mont.    \To  Renel]  Sweet  lord,   forbear. — Show,   show 
your  purpose,  sir. 
To  move  such  bold  feet  into  others'  roofs. 

Bed.    This  is  my  purpose,  sir ;   from  Clermont  d'Ambois 
I  bring  this  challenge. 

Mont.  Challenge  \   I'll  touch  none. 

Bed.    Ill  leave  it  here  then. 

Ren,  Thou  Shalt  leave  thy  Hie  finft.  135 


Sc.  2]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  95 

MofU.    Murther,  murtherl 

Ren.  Retire,  my  lord  ;    get  ofF. 

ITo  Baligny]     Hold,  or  thy  death  shall  hold  tliee. — Hence, 
my  lord  I 
Bal.    There  lie  the  challenge. 

They  aU  fight,  and  Baligny  drives  in  Montsurry. 
Exil  Montsurry 
Ren.  Was  not  this  well  handled  ? 

Bal.     Nobly,  my  lord.     All  thanks ! 

Exit  Baligny 
Tom.  Ill  make  him  read  it 

Exit  Tamyra 
Ren.    This  was  a  sleight  well  mask'd.    O,  what  is  man,        140 
Unless  he  be  a  politician  (  Exit 

FINIS  ACTUS   PRIMI 


ACTUS   SECUNDI  SCENA  PRIMA 
[A  Room  in  the  Courf] 

Henry,  Baligny 

Hen.    Come,  Baligny,  we  now  are  private ;   say. 
What  service  bring'st  thou  ?    Make  it  short ;    the  Guise 
(Whose  friend  thou  seem'st)  is  now  in  Court,  and  near. 
And  may  observe  us. 

Bal.  This,  sir,  then,  in  short. 

The  faction  of  the  Guise  (with  which  my  poUcy,  5 

For  service  to  your  Highness  seems  to  join) 
Grows  ripe,  and  must  be  gather'd  into  hold ; 
Of  which  my  brother  Clermont  being  a  part 
Exceeding  capital,  deserves  to  have 

A  capital  eye  on  him.    And,  as  you  may  10 

With  best  advantage  and  your  speediest  charge. 
Command  his  apprehension :    which  (because 
The  Court,  you  know,  is  strong  in  his  defence) 
We  must  as^  country  swinge  and  open  fields. 
And,  therefore,  I  have  wrought  him  to  go  down  15 

To  Cambrai  with  me  (of  which  government 
Your  Highness'  bounty  made  me  your  Lieutenant) 
Where  when  I  have  him,  I  wiU  leave  my  house, 
And  feign  some  service  out  about  the  confines  ; 
When  in  the  meantime,  if  you  please  to  give  20 


■""■ 


96  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  II 

Command  to  my  lieutenant,  by  your  letters, 

To  train  him  to  some  muster,  where  he  may, 

(Much  to  his  honour)  see  for  him  your  forces 

Put  into  battle,  when  he  comes,  he  may 

With  some  close  stratagem  be  apprehended:  25 

For  otherwise  your  whole  powers  there  will  fail 

To  work  his  apprehension :    and  with  that 

My  hand  needs  never  be  discem'd  therein. 

Hen,    Thanks,  honest  Baligny. 

Bal.  Your  Highness  knows 

I  will  be  honest,  and  betray  for  you  30 

Brother  and  father :    for,  I  know,  my  lord, 
Tteachery  for  kings  is  truest  lo3ralty ; 
Nor  is  to  bear  the  name  of  treachery. 
But  grave,  deep  policy.    All  acts  that  seem 
111  in  particular  respects  are  good  35 

As  they  respect  your  universal  rule. 
As  in  the  main  sway  of  the  universe 
The  supreme  Rector's  general  decrees. 
To  guard  the  migl  ty  globes  of  earth  and  heaven. 
Since  they  make  good  that  guard  to  preservation  40 

Of  both  those  in  their  order  and  first  end. 
No  man's  particular  (as  he  thinks)  wrong 
Must  hold  him  wrong'd  ;   no,  not  though  all  men's  reasons. 
All  law,  all  conscience,  concludes  it  wrong. 
Nor  is  comparison  a  flatterer  45 

To  liken  you  here  to  the  King  of  kings ; 
Nor  any  man's  particular  offence 
Against  the  world's  sway,  to  offence  at  yours 
In  any  subject ;   who  as  little  may 

Grudge  at  their  particular  wrong,  if  so  it  seem,  50 

For  th'  universal  right  of  your  estate : 
As,  being  a  subject  of  the  world's  whole  sway 
As  well  as  yours,  and  being  a  righteous  man 
To  whom  Heaven  promises  defence,  and  blessing. 
Brought  to  decay,  disgrace,  and  quite  defenceless,  55 

He  may  complain  of  Heaven  for  wrong  to  him. 

Hen.     'Tis  true:    the  simile  at  all  parts  holds. 
As  all  good  subjects  hold  that  love  our  favour. 

Bal.    "Which  is  our  heaven  here  ;   and  a  misery 
Incomparable,  and  most  truly  hellish,  60 

To  live  depriv'd  of  our  King's  grace  and  countenance. 
Without  which  best  conditions  are  most  cursed : 


Sa  I]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  97 

Life  of  that  nature,  howsoever  short. 

Is  a  most  lingering  and  tedious  life ; 

Or  rather  no  life,  but  a  languishing,  65 

And  an  abuse  of  life. 

Hen.  Tis  well  conceited. 

Bal.    I  thought  it  not  amiss  to  yield  your  Highness 
A  reason  of  my  speeches ;   lest  perhaps 
You  might  conceive  I  flatter'd,  which,  I  know. 
Of  all  ills  under  heaven  you  most  abhor.  70 

Hen.    Still  thou  art  right,  my  virtuous  Baligny; 
For  which  I  thank  and  love  thee.    Thy  advice 
111  not  forget ;   haste  to  thy  government. 
And  carry  D'Ambois  with  thee.    So  farewell  t  Exit 

Bal.    Your  Majesty  fare  ever  like  itself.  75 

Enter  Guise 

Guise.    My  sure  friend  Baligny  1 

Bal.  m  Noblest  of  princes  t 

Guise.    How  stands  the  state  of  Cambrai  ? 

Bal.  Strong,  my  lord. 

And  fit  for  service :   for  whose  readiness 
Your  creature,  Clermont  d'Ambois,  and  myself 
Ride  shortly  down. 

Guise.  That  Qermont  is  my  love  ;  to 

France  never  bred  a  nobler  gentleman 
For  all  parts ;  he  exceeds  his  brother  Bussy. 

Bai.    Ay,  my  lord  ? 

Guise.  Far  ;   because,  besides  his  valour, 

He  hath  the  crown  of  man,  and  all  his  parts. 
Which  learning  is ;   and  that  so  true  and  virtuous  85 

That  it  gives  power  to  do  as  well  as  say 
Whatever  fits  a  most  accomplished  man ; 
Which  Bussy,  for  his  valour's  season,  lack'd ; 
And  so  was  rapt  with  outrage  oftentimes 
Beyond  decorum  ;   where  this  absolute  Clermont,  90 

Though  (only  for  his  natural  zeal  to  right) 
He  will  be  fiery,  when  he  sees  it  cross'd. 
And  in  defence  of  it,  yet  when  he  lists 
He  can  contain  that  fire,  as  hid  in  embers. 

Bal.    No  question,  he's  a  true,  leam'd  gentleman.  95 

Guise.    He  is  as  true  as  tides,  or  any  star 
Is  in  his  motion ;   and  for  his  rare  learning. 
He  is  not  (as  all  else  are  that  seek  knoiiiedge) 

CD.W.  H 


98  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  II 

Of  taste  so  much  deprav'd,  that  they  had  rather 

Delight,  and  satisfy  themselves  to  drink  lOO 

Of  the  stream  troubled,  wand 'ring  ne'er  so  far 

From  the  clear  fount,  than  of  the  fount  itself. 

In  all,  Rome's  Brutus  is  reviv'd  in  him, 

Whom  he  of  industry  doth  imitate. 

Or  rather,  as  great  Troy^s  Euphorbus  was  105 

After  Pythagoras ;   so  is  Brutus,  Clermont. 

And,  were  not  Brutus  a  conspirator — 

Bal.     *  Conspirator/  my  lord  ?    Doth  that  impair  him  ? 
Csesar  began  to  tyrannize ;   and  when  virtue 
Nor  the  religion  of  the  gods  could  serve  no 

To  curb  the  insolence  of  his  proud  laws, 
Brutus  would  be  the  gods'  just  instrument. 
What  said  the  Princess,  sweet  Antigone, 
In  the  grave  Greek  tragedian,  when  the  question 
Twizt  her  and  Creon  is  for  laws  of  kings  ?  115 

Which,  when  he  urges,  she  replies  on  him ; 
Though  his  laws  were  a  king's,  they  were  not  God's ; 
Nor  would  she  value  Creon's  written  laws 
With  God's  unwrit  edicts ;   since  they  last  not 
This  day,  and  the  next,  but  every  day  and  ever ;  120 

Where  kings'  laws  alter  every  day  and  hour, 
And  in  that  change  imply  a  bounded  power. 

Guise.    Well,  let  us  leave  these  vain  disputings  what 
Is  to  be  done,  and  fall  to  doing  something. 
When  are  you  for  your  government  in  Cambrai  ?  125 

Bal.    When  you  command,  my  lord. 

Guise.  Nay,  that's  not  fit 

Continue  your  designments  witii  the  King, 
With  aU  your  service ;   only,  if  I  send. 
Respect  me  as  your  friend,  and  love  my  Qermont. 

Bal.    Your  Highness  knows  my  vows. 

Guise.  Ay,  'tis  enough.   130 

Exit  Guise.    Manet  Baligny 

Bal.    Thus  must  we  play  on  both  sides,  and  thus  hearten 
In  any  ill  those  men  whose  good  we  hate. 
Kings  may  do  what  they  list,  and  for  kings,  subjects. 
Either  exempt  from  censure  or  exception ; 
For,  as  no  man's  worth  can  be  justly  judg'd  135 

But  when  he  shines  in  some  authority,  •A/tifeo>or  d^  ra^rbt. 

So  no  authority  should  suffer  censure  &c.    imiwsibie 

But  by  a  man  of  more  authority.  estjnn  copwrne 


Sc.  I].     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  99 

Great  vessels  into  less  are  emptied  never,        mefitem  ae  vo^ 
There's  a  redundance  past  their  continent  ever.  ^^*^^*  at*^'  '^^ 
These  virtuosi  are  the  poorest  cieatnres ;         irai^s*Zppa^' 
For  look  how  spinners  weave  out  of  themselves  Sopho.  Antig. 
Webs,  whose  strange  matter  none  before  can  see ; 
So  these,  out  of  an  unseen  good  in  virtue. 
Make  arguments  of  right  and  comfort  in  her,  i^^ 

That  clothe  them  like  the  poor  web  of  a  spinner. 

Enter  Clermont 

Cler.     Now,  to  my  challenge.     What's  the  place,  the 
weapon  ? 

Bal.    Soft,  sir !   Let  first  your  chaUenge  be  received ; 
He  would  not  touch,  nor  see  it. 

Cler.  Possible  I 

How  did  you  then  ? 

Bal.  Left  it  in  his  despite.  1^0 

But  when  he  saw  me  enter  so  expectless, 
To  hear  his  base  exclaims  of  *murther,  murther,' 
Made  me  think  noblesse  lost,  in  him  quick  buried. 

Cler,    They  are  the  breathing  sepulchres  of  noblesse : 
No  trulier  noble  men,  than  lions'  pictures  i^^ 

Hung  up  for  signs,  are  lions.    Who  knows  not       q^  moUius 
That  lions  the  more  soft  kept,  are  more  servile  ?    oegunt,  to 
And  look  how  lions  close  kept,  fed  by  hand,  servUiut, 

Lose  quite  th'  innative  fire  of  spirit  and  greatness  £pi<^t. 
That  lions  free  breathe,  foraging  for  prey,  160 

And  grow  so  gross  that  mastifis,  curs,  and  mongrels 
Have  spirit  to  cow  them  :  so  our  soft  French  nobles, 
Chain'd  up  in  ease  and  numb'd  security 
(Their  spirits  shrunk  up  like  their  covetous  fists. 
And  never  open'd  but  Domitian-like»  165 

And  all  his  base  obsequious  minions 
When  they  were  catching,  though  it  were  but  flies). 
Besotted  with  their  peasants'  love  of  gain. 
Rusting  at  home,  and  on  each  other  preying. 
Are  for  their  greatness  but  the  greater  slaves,  170 

And  none  is  noble  but  who  scrapes  and  saves. 

Bdl.     'Tis  base,  tis  base  I    and  yet  they  think  them  high. 

Cler,    So  children  mounted  on  their  hobby-horse 
Think  they  are  riding,  when  with  wanton  toil 
They  bear  what  should  bear  them.    A  man  may  well         175 
Compare  them  to  those  foolish  greatnspleen'd  camels. 


100        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  II 

That  to  their  high  heads,  begg'd  of  Jove  horns  higher ; 

Whose  most  uncomely  and  ridiculous  pride 

When  he  had  satisfied,  they  could  not  use. 

But  where  they  went  upright  before,  they  stoop'd,  i8o 

And  bore  their  heads  much  lower  for  their  horns.    Simile. 

As  these  high  men  do,  low  in  all  true  grace. 

Their  height  being  privilege  to  all  things  base. 

And  as  the  foolish  poet  that  still  writ 

All  his  most  self-lov'd  verse  in  paper  ro3ral,  185 

Or  parchment  rul'd  with  lead,  smootii'd  with  the  pumice. 

Bound  richly  up,  and  strung  with  crimson  strings ; 

Never  so  blest  as  when  he  writ  and  read 

The  ape-lov'd  issue  of  his  brain,  and  never  > 

But  joying  in  himself,  admiring  ever :  100 

Yet  in  his  works  behold  him,  and  he  show'd 

like  to  a  ditcher.    So  these  painted  men. 

All  set  on  out-side,  look  upon  within. 

And  not  a  peasant's  entrails  you  shall  find 

More  foul  and  measled,  nor  more  starved  of  mind.  195 

Bal.    That  makes  their  bodies  fat.    I  fain  would  know 
How  many  millions  of  our  other  nobles  * 

Woidd  maike  one  Guise.    There  is  a  true  tenth  Worthy, 
Who,  did  not  one  act  only  blemish  him — 

Chr,    One  act  ?    What  one  ? 

Bal.  One,  that,  though  years  past  done,  200 

Sticks  by  him  still,  and  will  distain  him  ever. 

Cler.    Good  heaven,  wherein  ?   What  one  act  can  3^u 
name 
Supposed  his  stain,  that  I'll  not  prove  his  lustre  ? 

Bal.    To  satisfy  you,  'twas  the  Massacre. 

Cler.    The  Massacre  ?   I  thought  'twas  some  such  blemish.  205 

Bal.    Oh,  it  was  heinous 

Cler.  To  a  brutish  sense. 

But  not  a  manly  reason.    We  so  tender 
The  vile  part  in  us,  that  the  part  divine 
We  see  in  hell,  and  shrink  not.    Who  was  first 
Head  of  that  massacre  ? 

Bal.  The  Guise. 

Cler.  'Tis  nothing  so.  210 

Who  was  in  fault  for  all  the  slaughters  made 
In  Ilion,  and  about  it  ?    Were  the  Greeks  ? 
Was  it  not  Paris  ravishing  the  Queen 
Of  Lacedaemon ;   breach  of  shame  and  faith 


Sa  I]       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       loi 

And  all  the  laws  of  hospitality  ?  215 

Ibis  is  the  beastly  slaughter  made  of  men, 

When  trnth  is  overthrown,  his  laws  corrupted ; 

When  souls  are  smother'd  in  the  flatter'd  flesh, 

Slain  bodies  are  no  more  than  oxen  slain. 
Bal.    Differ  not  men  from  oxen  ? 
CUr.  Who  says  so  ?  220 

But  see  wherein ;   in  the  understanding  rules 

Of  their  opinions,  lives,  and  actions ; 

In  their  communities  of  faith  and  reason. 

Was  not  the  wolf  that  nourished  Romulus 

More  human  than  the  men  that  did  expose  him  ?  225 

Bal.    That  makes  against  you. 
Ckr.  Not,  sir,  if  you  note 

That  by  that  deed,  the  actions  difference  make 

Twixt  men  and  beasts,  and  not  their  names  nor  forms. 

Had  faith,  nor  shame,  all  hospitable  rights 

Been  broke  by  Troy,  Greece  had  not  made  that  slaughter.      230 

Had  that  been  sav'd  (says  a  philosopher) 

The  Iliads  and  Odysseys  had  been  lost ; 

Had  faitii  and  true  religion  been  preferr'd, 

Religious  Guise  had  never  massacred. 

Bal.    Well,  sir,  I  cannot  when  I  meet  with  you  235 

But  thus  digress  a  little,  for  my  learning. 
From  any  other  business  I  int^d. 
But  now  the  voyage  we  resolv'd  for  Cambrai, 
I  told  the  Guise  begins,  and  we  must  haste. 
And  till  the  Lord  Renel  hath  found  some  mean,  240 

Conspiring  with  the  Countess,  to  make  sure 
Your  sworn  wreak  on  her  husband,  though  this  fail'd. 
In  my  so  brave  conmiand  we'll  spend  the  time. 
Sometimes  in  training  out  in  skirmishes 

And  battles  all  our  troops  and  companies ;  245 

And  sometimes  breathe  your  brave  Scotch  running  horse, 
That  great  Guise  gave  you,  that  all  th'  horse  in  France 
Far  overruns  at  every  race  and  hunting 
Both  of  the  hare  and  deer.     You  shall  be  honour'd 
Like  the  great  Guise  himself,  above  the  King.  250 

And  (can  yon  but  appease  your  great-spleen'd  sister 
For  our  delay'd  wreak  of  your  brother's  slaughter) 
At  all  parts  you'll  be  welcom'd  to  your  wonder. 

Cler.    I'll  see  my  lord  the  Guise  again  before  ^. 

We  take  our  journey. 


102       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Act  III 

Bal.  O,  sir,  by  all  means ;  255 

You  cannot  be  too  careful  of  his  love. 
That  ever  takes  occasion  to  be  raising 
Your  virtues  past  the  reaches  of  this  age. 
And  ranks  you  with  the  best  of  th'  ancient  Romans. 

Cler,    That  praise  at  no  part  moves  me,  but  the  worth  260 
Of  all  he  can  give  others  spher'd  in  him. 

Bal.     He  yet  is  thought  to  entertain  strange  aims. 

Chr.     He  may  be  well,  yet  not  as  you  think  strange. 
His  strange  aims  are  to  cross  the  common  custom 
Of  servile  nobles,  in  which  he's  so  ravish'd,  26$ 

That  quite  the  earth  he  leaves,  and  up  he  leaps 
On  Atlas'  shoulders,  and  from  thence  looks  down. 
Viewing  how  far  ofE  other  high  ones  creep ; 
Rich,  poor  of  reason,  wander ;    all  pale  looking. 
And  trembling  but  to  think  of  their  sure  deaths,  270 

Their  lives  so  base  are,  and  so  rank  their  breaths. 
Which  I  teach  Guise  to  heighten,  and  make  sweet 
With  life's  dear  odours,  a  good  mind  and  name ; 
For  which  he  only  loves  me,  and  deserves 
My  love  and  life,  which  through  all  deaths  I  vow :  275 

Resolving  this,  whatever  change  can  be. 
Thou  hast  created,  thou  hast  ruin'd  me. 

Exeunt 

FINIS   ACTUS  SECUNDI 


ACTUS  TERTII  SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Field  near  Camhrai] 

A  march  of  Captains  over  the  stage.    Maillard,  Chalon,  Aumale 

following  with  Soldiers 

Mail,    These  troops  and  companies  come  in  with  wings  : 
So  many  men,  so  arm'd,  so  gallant  horse, 
I  think  no  other  government  in  France 
So  soon  could  bring  together.     With  such  men 
Methinks  a  man  might  pass  th'  insulting  pillars  5 

Of  Bacchus  and  Alcides. 

Choi.  I  much  wonder 

Our  Lord-Lieutenant  brought  his  brother  down  " 

To  feast  and  honour  him,  and  yet  now  leaves  him 
At  such  an  instance. 


Sc.  I]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         103 

Mail.  Twas  the  King's  command  : 

For  whom  he  must  leave  brother,  wife,  friend,  all  things.     10 

Aum,    The  confines  of  his  government,  whose  view 
Is  the  pretext  of  his  command,  hath  need 
Of  no  such  sudden  expedition. 

Mail,    We  must  not  argue  that.    The  King's  command 
Is  need  and  right  enough  :    and  that  he  serves  15 

(As  all  true  subjects  should)  without  disputing. 

CAo/.    But  knows  not  he  of  your  command  to  take 
His  brother  Clermont  ? 

Mail.  No  :   the  King's  will  is 

Expressly  to  conceal  his  apprehension 

From  my  Lord  Governor.    Observ'd  ye  not  ?  20 

Again  peruse  the  letters.    Both  you  are 
Made  my  assistants,  and  have  right  and  trust 
In  all  the  weighty  secrets  Uke  myself. 

Aum,    'Tis  strange  a  man  that  had,  through  his  life  past. 
So  sure  a  foot  in  virtue  and  true  knowledge  25 

As  Qermont  d'Ambois,  should  be  now  found  tripping, 
And  taken  up  thus,  so  to  make  his  fall 
More  steep  and  headlong. 

Mail.  It  is  Virtue's  fortune. 

To  keep  her  low,  and  in  her  proper  place ; 
Height  hath  no  room  for  her.    But  as  a  man  30 

That  hath  a  fruitful  wife,  and  every  year 
A  child  by  her,  hath  every  year  a  month 
To  breathe  himself,  where  he  that  gets  no  child 
Hath  not  a  night's  rest  (if  he  will  do  well) ; 
So,  let  one  marry  this  same  barren  Virtue,  35 

She  never  lets  him  rest,  where  fruitful  Vice 
Spares  her  rich  drudge,  gives  him  in  labour  breath, 
Feeds  him  with  bane,  and  makes  him  fat  with  death. 

Chal.    I  see  that  good  lives  never  can  secure 
Men  from  bad  livers.    Worst  men  will  have  best  40 

As  ill  as  they,  or  heaven  to  hell  they'll  wrest. 

Aum.    There  was  a  merit  for  this,  in  the  fault 
That  Bussy  made,  for  which  he  (doing  penance) 
Proves  that  these  foul  adulterous  guilts  will  run 
Through  the  whole  blood,  which  not  the  clear  can  shun.      45 

Mail.    I'll  therefore  take  heed  of  the  bastarding 
Whole  innocent  races;    'tis  a  fearful  thing. 
And  as  I  am  true  bachelor,  I  swear 
To  touch  no  woman  (to  the  coupling  ends) 


104     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  III 

Unless  it  be  mine  own  wife,  or  my  friend's.  50 

I  may  make  bold  with  him. 

Aum.  'Tia  safe  and  conunon. 

The  more  your  friend  dares  trust,  the  more  deceive  him. 
And  as  through  dewy  vapours  the  sun's  form 
Makes  the  gay  rainbow  girdle  to  a  storm. 
So  in  hearts  hollow,  friendship  (even  the  sun  55 

To  all  good  growing  in  society) 
Makes  his  so  glorious  and  divine  name  hold 
Colours  for  all  the  ill  that  can  be  told.     Trumpets  within. 

Mail.    Hark,  our  last  troops  are  come.  Drums  bsat 

Choi,  Hark,  our  last  foot. 

Mail.    Come,  let  us  put  all  quickly  into  battle,  60 

And  send  for  Clermont,  in  whose  honour  all 
This  martial  preparation  we  pretend. 

Choi.    We  must  bethink  us.  ere  we  apprehend  him, 
(Besides  our  main  strength)  of  some  stratagem 
To  make  good  our  severe  command  on  him,  65 

Aa  well  to  save  blood  as  to  make  him  sure : 
For  if  he  come  on  his  Scotch  horse,  all  France 
Put  at  the  heels  of  him  wOl  fail  to  take  him. 

Mail.    What  think  you  if  we  should  disguise  a  brace 
Of  our  best  soldiers  in  fair  lackeys'  coats,  70 

And  send  them  for  him,  running  by  his  side. 
Till  they  have  brought  him  in  some  ambuscado 
We  dose  may  lodge  for  him,  and  suddenly 
Lay  sure  hand  on  him,  plucking  him  from  horse. 

Aum,    It  must  be  sure  and  strong  hand  ;    for  if  once        75 
He  feels  the  touch  of  such  a  stratagem, 
'Tis  not  the  choicest  brace  of  all  our  bands 
Can  manacle  or  quench  his  fiery  hands. 

Mail.  When  they  have  seiz'd  him,  the  ambush  shall  make  in. 

Aum.    Do  as  you  please  ;  his  blameless  spirit  deserves  80 

(t  dare  engage  my  life)  of  all  this  nothing. 

Chal.    Why  should  all  this  stir  be,  then  ? 

Aum.  Who  knows  not 

The  bombast  Polity  thrusts  into  his  giant. 
To  make  his  wisdom  seem  of  size  as  huge. 
And  all  for  slight  encounter  of  a  shade,  85 

So  he  be  touch'd,  he  would  have  heinous  made  ? 

Mail.    It  may  be  once  so,  but  so  ever,  never : 
Ambition  is  abroad,  on  foot,  on  horse ; 
Faction  chokes  every  comer,  street,  the  Court; 


Sc.  I]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         105 

Whose  faction  'tis  you  know,  and  who  is  held  90 

The  iautor's  right  hand ;  how  high  his  aims  reach 
Nought  but  a  crown  can  measure.  This  must  fall 
Past  shadows'  weights,  and  is  most  capital. 

Choi,    No  question  ;  for  since  he  is  come  to  Cambrai, 
The  malcontent,  decay'd  Marquess  Renel  95 

Is  come,  and  new  arriv'd,  and  made  partaker 
Of  all  the  entertaining  shows  and  feasts 
That  welcom'd  Clermont  to  the  brave  virago. 
His  manly  sister.    Such  we  are  esteem'd 
As  are  our  consorts.    Marquess  Malcontent  100 

Comes  where  he  knows  his  vein  hath  safest  vent. 

Mail.    "Let  him  come  at  his  will,  and  go  as  free ; 
Let  us  ply  Clermont,  our  whole  charge  is  he. 

Ex&uni 

[SCENA  SECUNDA 

A  Room  in  the  Castle] 

Enter  a  Gentleman  Usher  before  Clermont,  Renel,  Charlotte 
with  two  women  attendants,  with  others :  shows  having 
passed  within. 

Char.    This  for  your  lordship's  welcome  into  Cambrai. 

Ren.    Noblest  of  ladies,  'tis  beyond  all  power 
(Were  my  estate  at  first  full)  in  my  means 
To  quit  or  merit. 

Cler.  You  come  something  later 

Fhnn  Court,  my  lord,  than  I :    and  since  news  there  5 

Is  eveiy  day  increasing  with  th'  affairs. 
Must  I  not  ask  now  what  the  news  is  there  ? 
Where  the  Court  lies  ?    What  stir,  change,    what  advice 
From  England,  Italy  ? 

Ren.  You  must  do  so. 

If  you'll  be  call'd  a  gentleman  well  qualified,  xo 

And  wear  your  time  and  wits  in  those  discourses. 

Cler.    The  Locrian  Princes  therefore  were  brave  rulers ; 
For  whosoever  there  came  new  from  coimtry 
And  in  the  city  ask'd  '  What  news  ? '  was  punish'd ; 
Since  commonly  such  brains  are  most  delighted  15 

^^^th  innovations,  gossips'  tales,  and  miaohiefH : 
But  as  of  lions  it  is  said,  and  eagles. 
That,  when  they  go,  they  draw  their  seres  and  talons 
Close  up,  to  shun  rebating  of  their  sharpness : 


io6     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  III 

So  our  wit's  sharpness,  which  we  should  employ  20 

In  noblest  knowledge,  we  should  never  waste 
In  vile  and  vulgar  admirations. 

Ren,    'Tis  right ;    but  who,  save  only  you,  performs  it. 
And  your  great  brother  ?    Madam,  where  is  he  ? 

Char,    Gone,  a  day  since,  into  the  country's  confines,        25 
To  see  their  strength  and  readiness  for  service. 

Ren.    'Tis  well ;  his  favour  with  the  King  hath  made  him 
Most  worthily  great,  and  live  right  royally. 

Cler,    Ay :  would  he  would  not  do  so  1     Honour  never 
Should  be  esteem'd  with  wise  men,  as  the  price  30 

And  value  of  their  virtuous  services. 
But  as  their  sign  or  badge ;    for  that  bewrays 
More  glory  in  the  outward  grace  of  goodness. 
Than  in  the  good  itself;    and  then  'tis  said. 
Who  more  joy  takes  that  men  his  good  advance  35 

Than  in  the  good  itself,  does  it  by  chance. 

Char,    My  brother  speaks  all  principle.     What  man 
Is  mov'd  with  your  soul,  or  hath  such  a  thought 
In  any  rate  of  goodness  ? 

Cler.  'Tis  their  fault. 

We  have  examples  of  it,  clear  and  many.  40 

Demetrius  Phalereus,  an  orator. 
And  (which  not  oft  meet)  a  philosopher. 
So  great  in  Athens  grew  that  he  erected 
Three  hundred  statues  of  him ;    of  all  which. 
No  rust  nor  length  of  time  corrupted  one;  45 

But  in  his  life  time  all  were  overthrown. 
And  Demades  (that  pass'd  Demosthenes 
For  all  extemporal  orations) 
Erected  many  statues,  which  (he  living) 

Were  broke,  and  melted  into  chamber-pots.  50 

Many  such  ends  have  fallen  on  such  proud  honours. 
No  more  because  the  men  on  whom  they  fell 
Grew  insolent  and  left  their  virtues'  state. 
Than  for  their  hugeness,  that  procur'd  their  hate : 
And  tiierefore  Uttie  pomp  in  men  most  great  55 

Makes  mightily  and  strongly  to  the  guard 
Of  what  they  win  by  chance  or  just  reward. 
Great  and  iiomodest  braveries  again. 
Like  statues  much  too  high  made  for  their  bases. 
Are  overtum'd  as  soon  as  given  their  places.  60 


Sc.  2]       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS      107 

Enter  a  Messenger  with  a  Letter 

Mes,     Here  is  a  letter,  sir,  delivered  me, 
Now  at  the  fore-gate  by  a  gentleman. 

Cler,    What  gentleman  ? 

Mes.  He  would  not  tell  his  name; 

He  said,  he  had  not  time  enough  to  tell  it. 
And  say  the  little  rest  he  had  to  say.  65 

Cler,    That  was  a  merry  saying ;  he  took  measure 
Of  his  dear  time  like  a  most  thrifty  husband.    [Read^] 

Char,    What  news  ? 

Cler,  Strange  ones,  and  fit  for  a  novation  ; 

Weighty,  unheard  of,  mischievous  enough. 

Ren,    Heaven  shield  1  What  are  they  ? 

Cler.  Read  them,  good  my  lord.     70 

Ren,   [reads]    'You    are    betray'd    into    this  country.' 
Monstrous  1 

Char.    How's  that  ? 

Cler.     Read  on. 

Ren.     *  Maillard,  your  brother's  Lieutenant,  that  yester- 
day invited  you  to  see  his  musters,  hath,  letters  and  strict    75 
charge  from  the  King  to  apprehend  you.' 

Char,     To  apprehend  him  ? 

Ren.     '  Your  brother  absents  himself  of  purpose.' 

Cler.    That's  a  sound  one  1 

Char.    That's  a  lie  1  80 

Ren.  '  Get  on  your  Scotch  horse,  and  retire  to  your 
streng^ ;  you  know  where  it  is,  and  there  it  expects  you. 
Believe  this  as  your  best  friend  had  sworn  it.  Fare  well,  if 
you  will.    Anonymos.'    What's  that  ? 

Cler.    Without  a  name.  85 

Char.    And  all  his  notice,  too,  without  all  truth. 

Cler.    So  I  conceive  it,  sister :    I'll  not  wrong 
My  well-known  brother  for  Anonymos. 

Char.     Some  fool  hath  put  this  trick  on  you,  yet  more 
T'uncover  your  defect  of  spirit  and  valour,  90 

First  shown  in  ling'ring  my  dear  brother's  wreak. 
See  what  it  is  to  give  the  envious  world 
Advantage  to  diminish  eminent  virtue. 
Send  him  a  challenge  ?    Take  a  noble  course 
To  wreak  a  murther  done  so  like  a  villain  ?  95 

Cler.    Shall  we  revenge  a  villany  with  villany  ? 

Char,    Is  it  not  equal  ? 


io8    THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  li'AMBOIS     [Act  III 

Cler*  Shall  we  equal  be 

With  villains  ?     Is  that  your  reason  ? 

Char,  Cowardice  evermore 

Flies  to  the  shield  of  reason. 

Cler.  Nought  that  is 

Approved  by  reason  can  be  cowardice.  loo 

Char.    Dispute,  when  you  should  fight !    Wrong,  wreakless 
sleeping. 
Makes  men  die  honourless ;    one  borne,  another 
Leaps  on  our  shoulders. 

Cler,  We  must  wreak  our  wrongs 

So  as  we  take  not  more. 

Char.  One  wreak'd  in  time 

Prevents  all  other.    Then  shines  virtue  most  105 

When  time  is  found  for  facts ;    and  found,  not  lost. 

Cler,    No  time  occurs  to  kings,  much  less  to  virtue  ; 
Nor  can  we  call  it  virtue  that  proceeds 
From  vicious  fury.    I  repent  that  eve^ 

(By  any  instigation  in  th'  appearance  no 

My  brother's  spirit  made,  as  I  imagin'd) 
That  e'er  I  yielded  to  revenge  his  murther^ 
All  worthy  men  should  ever  bring  their  blood 
To  bear  sdl  ill,  not  to  be  wreak'd  with  good  : 
Do  ill  for  no  ill ;    never  private  cause  1 15 

Should  take  on  it  the  part  of  public  laws. 

Char.    A  D'Ambois  bear  in  wrong  so  tame  a  spirit  1 

Ren,    Madam,  be  sure  there  will  be  time  enough 
For  all  the  vengeance  your  great  spirit  can  wish. 
The  course  yet  taken  is  alloVd  by  all,  120 

Which  being  noble,  and  refus'd  by  th'  Earl, 
Now  makes  him  worthy  of  your  worst  advantage ; 
And  I  have  cast  a  project  with  the  Countess 
To  watch  a  time  when  all  his  wariest  guards 
ShaU  not  exempt  him.    Therefore  give  him  breath  ;  1 25 

Sure  death  delay'd  is  a  redoubled  death. 

CUr,    Good  sister,  trouble  not  yourself  with  this ; 
Take  other  ladies'  care ;    practise  your  face. 
There's  the  chaste  matron.  Madam  Perigot, 
Dwells  not  far  hence ;    I'll  ride  and  send  her  to  you.  130 

She  did  live  by  retailing  maiden-heads 
In  her  minority ;   but  now  she  deals 
In  wholesale  altogether  for  the  Court. 
I  tell  you,  she's  the  only  fashion-monger 


Sc.  2]      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS        109 


For  your  complexion,  powdering  of  your  hair, 
Shadows,  rebatoes,  wires,  tires,  and  such  tricks. 
That  Cambrai,  or  I  think,  the  Court  affords  : 
She  shall  attend  you,  sister,  and  with  these 
Womanly  practices  employ  your  spirit; 
This  other  suits  you  not,  nor  fits  the  fashion. 
Though  she  be  dear,  lay't  on,  spare  for  no  cost. 
Ladies  in  these  have  all  their  bounties  lost. 

Ren.    Madam,  you  see  his  spirit  will  not  check 
At  any  single  danger,  when  it  stands 
Thus  merrily  firm  against  an  host  of  men, 
Threaten'd  to  be  [in]  arms  for  his  surprise. 

Char.    That's  a  mere  bugbear,  an  impossible  mock. 
If  he,  and  him  I  bound  by  nuptial  faith. 
Had  not  been  duU  and  drossy  in  performing 
Wreak  of  the  dear  blood  of  my  matchless  brother. 
What  prince,  what  king,  which  of  the  desperat'st  ruffians. 
Outlaws  in  Arden,  durst  have  tempted  thus 
One  of  our  blood  and  name,  be't  true  or  false  ? 

Cler.    This  is  not  caus'd  by  that ;    'twill  be  as  sure 
As  yet  it  is  not,  though  this  should  be  true. 

Char.    True  ?  'Tis  past  thought  false. 

Cler.  I  suppose  the  worst. 

Which  far  I  am  from  thinking;    and  despise 
The  army  now  in  battle  that  should  act  it. 

Char.    I  would  not  let  my  blood  up  to  that  thought. 
But  it  should  cost  the  dearest  blood  in  France. 

Cler.     Sweet  sister,  far  be  both  oft  as  the  fact 
Of  my  feign'd  apprehension.  Osculatur 

Char*  I  would  once 

Strip  off  my  shame  with  my  attire,  and  try 
If  a  poor  woman,  votist  of  revenge. 
Would  not  perform  it  with  a  precedent 
To  all  yoa  bungling,  foggy-spirited  men ; 
But  for  our  birthright's  honour,  do  not  mention 
One  syllable  of  any  word  may  go 
To  the  b^etting  of  an  act  so  tender 
And  full  of  sulphur  as  this  letter's  truth ; 
It  comprehends  so  black  a  circumstance 
Not  to  be  nam'd,  that  but  to  form  one  thought. 
It  is,  or  can  be  so,  would  make  me  mad ; 
Come,  my  lord,  you  and  I  will  fight  this  dream 
Out  at  the  chess. 


135 


140 


145 


150 


155 


160 


165 


170 


THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Act  III 

Ij-  Most  gladly,  worthiest  lady.  175 

Exmnt  Charlotte  and  Renel 

EmUr  a  Messenger 
ta^     ^  WQT  Loid  Governor's  Lieutenant  prays  .  /. 

^^^^  Himself  alone  ? 

^«^  Alone,  sir. 

^  ?!».     Antftd  him  in.    Exit  Messenger 

Now  comes  this  plot  to  trial, 
t  ^lijj^  U^s«««ni  (if  it  be  true  as  rare) 

Skhm^  ^!|>»^^fk9  will  fly  from  his  dissembling  eyes.  180 

I  U  «k^^MM)  his  depth. 

EnUr  Maillard  voith  the  Messenger  r 

MM^  Honour,  and  all  things  noble ! 

Ck9s    As  much  to  you,  good  Captain.    What's  th'  affair  ? 

Af  (m/.    Sir,  the  poor  honour  we  can  add  to  all 
YQur  studied  welcome  to  this  martial  place. 
In  presentation  of  what  strength  consists  185 

My  lord  your  brother's  government,  is  ready. 
I  have  made  all  his  troops  and  companies 
Advance  and  put  themselves  rang'd  in  battalia, 
That  you  may  see  both  how  well-arm'd  they  are, 
How  strong  is  every  troop  and  company,  190 

How  ready,  and  how  well  prepar'd  for  service. 

Chr,    And  must  they  take  me  ? 

Mail,  Take  you,  sir  ?    O,  heaven  !  [turning  away] 

Mes.    [Aside  to  Clemumf]    Believe  it,  sir ;  his  count'nance 
chang'd  in  turning. 

Mail.    What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? 

Cler.  If  you  have  charg'd  them. 

You  being  charg'd  yourself,  to  apprehend  me,  195 

Turn  not  your  face ;   throw  not  your  looks  about  so. 

Mail.  Pardon  me,  sir.    You  amaze  me  to  conceive 
Ftom  whence  our  wills  to  honour  you  should  turn 
To  such  dishonour  of  my  lord  your  brother. 
Dare  I,  without  him,  undertake  your  taking  ?  200 

Cler.  Why  not,  by  your  direct  charge  from  the  King  ? 

Mail.    By  my  charge  from  the  King  ?  Would  he  so  much 
Disgrace  my  lord,  his  own  Lieutenant  here. 
To  give  me  his  command  without  his  forfeit  ? 


Sc.  2]        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS      iii 

Cler.    Acts  that  are  done  by  kings  are  not  ask'd  why.    205 
I'll  not  dispute  the  case,  but  I  wiU  search  you. 

MaiL  Search  me  ?    For  what  ? 

CUr.  For  letters. 

Mail.  I  beseech  you. 

Do  not  admit  one  thought  of  such  a  shame 
To  a  commander. 

Cler,  Go  to  1  I  must  do't. 

Stand  and  be  search'd ;    you  know  me. 

Mail.  You  forget  210 

What  'tis  to  be  a  captain,  and  yourself. 

Cler,    Stand,  or  I  vow  to  heaven,  I'll  make  you  lie. 
Never  to  rise  more. 

Mail.  If  a  man  be  mad 

Reason  must  bear  him. 

Cler.  So  coy  to  be  search'd  ? 

Mail.  'Sdeath,  sir  1  Use  a  captain  like  a  carrier  ?  215 

Cler.    Come,  be  not  furious;   when  I  have  done 
You  shall  make  such  a  carrier  of  me, 
If't  be  your  pleasure ;    you're  my  friend,  I  know. 
And  so  am  bold  with  you. 

Mail.  You'U  nothing  find 

Where  nothing  is. 

Cler.  Swear  you  have  nothing.  220 

Mail.    Nothing  you  seek,  I  swear :  I  beseech  you 
Know  I  desir'd  this  out  of  great  affection, 
To  th'  end  my  lord  may  know  out  of  your  witness 
His  forces  are  not  in  so  bad  estate 

As  he  esteem'd  them  lately  in  your  hearing :  225 

For  which  he  would  not  trust  me  with  the  confines. 
But  went  himself  to  witness  their  estate. 

Cler.    1  heard  him  make  that  reason,  and  am  sorry 
I  had  no  thought  of  it  before  I  made 

Thus  bold  with  you,  since  'tis  such  rhubarb  to  you.  230 

111  therefore  search  no  more.    If  you  are  charg'd 
(By  letters  from  the  King,  or  otherwise) 
To  apprehend  me,  never  spice  it  more 
With  forc'd  terms  of  your  love,  but  say ;    I  yield  ; 
Hold,  take  my  sword,  here ;  I  forgive  thee  freely ;  235 

Take,  do  thine  office. 

Mail.  'Sfoot,  you  make  m'  a  hangman ; 

By  all  my  faith  to  you,  there's  no  such  thing. 

Chr,    Your  faith  to  me  ?  »•  ■ 


112     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  III 

Mail.  My  faith  to  God ;  all's  one. 

Who  hath  no  faith  to  men,  to  God  hath  none. 

Cler,    In  that  sense  I  accept  your  oath,  and  thank  you  :  240 
I  gave  my  word  to  go,  and  I  will  go.    Exit  Clermont 

Mail,    I'll  watch  you  whither.  Exit  Maillard 

Mes,  If  he  goes,  he  proves 

How  vain  are  men's  foreknowledges  of  things, 
When  Heaven  strikes  blind  their  powers  of  note  and  use ; 
And  makes  their  way  to  ruin  seem  more  right  245 

Than  that  which  safety  opens  to  their  sight. 
Cassandra's  prophecy  had  no  more  profit 
With  Troy's  blind  citizens,  when  she  foretold 
Troy's  ruin  ;  which,  succeeding,  made  her  use 
This  sacred  inclamation  :  '  God  '  (said  she)  250 

'  Would  have  me  utter  things  uncredited  : 
For  which  now  they  approve  what  I  presag'd ; 
They  count  me  wise  that  said  before  I  rag'd.'  [Exif] 

[SCENA  TERTIA 
In  the  Camp] 

Enter  Chalon  with  two  Soldiers 

Choi,    Come,  soldiers,  you  are  downwards  fit  for  lackeys ; 
Give  me  your  pieces,  and  take  you  these  coats. 
To  make  you  complete  footmen,  in  whose  forms 
You  must  be  complete  soldiers ;  you  two  only 
Stand  for  our  army. 

ist  Sold.  That  were  much. 

Choi.  'Tis  true ;  5 

You  two  must  do,  or  enter,  what  our  army 
Is  now  in  field  for. 

and  Sold.  I  see  then  our  guerdon 

Must  be  the  deed  itself,  'twill  be  such  honour. 

Choi.    What  fight  soldiers  most  for  ? 

ist  Sold.  Honour  only. 

Choi.    Yet  here  are  crowns  beside. 

Atnbo,  We  thank  you,  captain.     10 

2nd  Sold.    Now,  sir,  how  show  we  ? 

Choi.  As  you  should  at  all  parts. 

Go  now  to  Clermont  d'Ambois,  and  inform  him 
Two  battles  are  set  ready  in  his  honour. 


Sc.  3]         THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     113 

And  stay  his  presence  only  for  their  signal, 

When  they  shsdl  join  :  and  that  t'attend  him  hither,  15 

Like  one  we  so  mnch  honour,  we  have  sent  him — 

1st  Sold.    Us  two  in  person. 

Choi.  Well,  sir,  say  it  so ; 

And  having  brought  him  to  the  field,  when  I 
Fall  in  with  him,  saluting,  get  you  both 
Of  one  side  of  his  horse,  and  pluck  him  down,  20 

And  I  with  the  ambush  laid  will  second  you. 

isi  Sold,    Nay,  we  shall  lay  on  hands  of  too  much  strength 
To  need  your  secondings. 

2nd  Sold,  I  hope  we  shall. 

Two  are  enough  to  encounter  Hercules. 

Choi.    'Tis  well  said,  worthy  soldiers ;  haste,  and  1  iste  him.    25 

[Exeunt] 


PCENA  QUARTA 
A  Room  in  the  Castle] 

Enter  Clermont,  Maillard  close  following  him 

Cler.  [To  himself].    My  Scotch  horse  to  their  army— 
McdL  Please  you,  sir  ? 

Cler.  'Sdeath,  you're  passing  diligent  I 
Mail.  Of  my  soul 

'Tis  only  in  my  love  to  honour  you 
With  what  would  grace  the  King ;  but  since  I  see 
You  still  sustain  a  jealous  eye  on  me,  5 

I'll  go  before. 

Cler.  'Tis  well ;  111  come ;  my  hand. 

Mail,    Your  hand,  sir  1    Come,  your  word ;  your  choice 
be  used.  Exit 

Clermont  solus 

Cler.  I  had  an  aversation  to  this  voyage. 
When  first  my  brother  mov'd  it ;    and  have  found 
That  native  power  in  me  was  never  vain ;  10 

Yet  now  neglected  it.    I  wonder  much 
At  my  inconstancy  in  these  decrees, 
I  every  hour  set  down  to  guide  my  life. 
When  Homer  made  Achilles  passionate. 
Wrathful,  revengeful,  and  insatiate  15 

C.D.W,  I 


114     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  III 

In  his  affections,  what  man  will  deny 

He  did  compose  it  all  of  industry. 

To  let  men  see  that  men  of  most  renown, 

Strong'st,  noblest,  fairest,  if  they  set  not  down 

Decrees  within  them,  for  disposing  these,  20 

Of  judgment,  resolution,  uprightness. 

And  certain  knowledge  of  their  use  and  ends. 

Mishap  and  misery  no  less  extends 

To  their  destruction,  with  all  that  they  priz'd. 

Than  to  tiie  poorest,  and  the  most  despis'd.  25 

Enter  Renel 

Ren,    Why,  how  now,  friend,  retir'd  ?    Take  heed  you 
prove  not 
Dismay'd  with  this  strange  fortune :    all  observe  you. 
Your  government's  as  much  mark'd  as  the  King's. 
What  said  a  friend  to  Pompey  ? 

Cler.  What  ? 

Ren,  The  people 

Will  never  know,  unless  in  death  thou  try,  30 

That  thou  know'st  how  to  bear  adversity. 

Cler,  I  shall  approve  how  vile  I  value  fear 
Of  death  at  all  times ;  but  to  be  too  rash. 
Without  both  will  and  care  to  shun  the  worst 
(It  being  in  power  to  do,  well  and  with  cheer)  35 

Is  stupid  negligence,  and  worse  than  fear. 

Ren,    Suppose  this  true  now. 

Cler,  No,  I  cannot  do't. 

My  sister  truly  said,  there  hung  a  tail 
Of  circumstance  so  black  on  that  supposure. 
That  to  sustain  it  thus  abhorr'd  our  metal.  40 

And  I  can  shun  it  too,  in  spite  of  all. 
Not  going  to  field  ;  and  there  too,  being  so  mounted 
As  I  will,  since  I  go. 

Ren,  You  wUl  then  go  ? 

Cler,    I  am  engag'd,  both  in  my  word  and  hand ; 
But  this  is  it  that  makes  me  thus  retir'd  45 

To  call  myself  t'account  how  this  affair 
Is  to  be  manag'd  if  the  worst  should  chance; 
With  which  I  note  how  dangerous  it  is 
For  any  man  to  press  beyond  the  place 
To  which  his  birtii,  or  means,  or  Imowledge  ties  him ;  50 


Sc.  4]      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         115 

For  my  part,  though  of  noble  birth,  my  birthright 

Had  little  left  it,  and  I  know  'tis  better. 

To  live  with  little,  and  to  keep  within 

A  man's  own  strength  still,  and  in  man's  true  end, 

Than  run  a  mix'd  course.    Good  and  bad  hold  never  55 

Anything  common ;    you  can  never  find 

Things'  outward  care,  but  you  neglect  your  mind. 

Ck)d  hath  the  whole  world  perfect  made  and  free. 

His  parts  to  th'  use  of  th'  All ;  men  then  that  [be] 

Parts  of  that  All,  must,  as  the  general  sway  60 

Of  that  importeth,  willingly  obey 

In  everything  without  their  power  to  change. 

He  that,  unpleas'd  to  hold  his  place,  will  range. 

Can  in  no  other  be  contain'd  thaf  s  fit. 

And  so  resisting  th'  All,  is  crush'd  with  it.  65 

Bat  he,  that  knowing  how  divine  a  frame 

The  whole  world  is ;   and  of  it  all,  can  name 

fWithout  self-flattery)  no  part  so  divine 

As  he  himself,  and  therefore  will  confine 

Freely  his  whole  powers  in  his  proper  part,  70 

Goes  on  most  God-like.    He  that  strives  t'invert 

The  Universal's  course  with  his  poor  way, 

Not  only  dust-like  shivers  with  the  sway. 
But,  crossing  God  in  his  great  work,  all  earth 
BeaiB  not  so  cursed  and  so  damn'd  a  birth.     — 

Ren.    Go  on ;    I'll  take  no  care  what  comes  of  you  ; 
Heaven  will  not  see  it  ill,  howe'er  it  show : 
But  the  pretext  to  see  these  battles  rang'd 
Is  much  your  honour. 

Cier.  As  the  world  esteems  it. 

But  to  decide  that,  you  make  me  remember  80 

An  accident  of  high  and  noble  note. 
And  fits  the  subject  of  my  late  discourse 
Of  holding  on  our  free  and  proper  way. 
I  overtook,  coming  from  Italy, 

In  Germany,  a  great  and  famous  earl  85 

Of  England,  the  most  goodly-fashion'd  man 
I  ever  saw ;    from  head  to  foot  in  form 
Hare  and  most  absolute;    he  Lad  a  face 
Like  one  of  the  most  ancient  honour'd  Romans, 
From  whence  his  noblest  family  was  deriv'd ;  90 

He  was  beside  of  spirit  passing  great. 
Valiant,  and  leam'd,  and  liberal  as  the  sun. 


75 


ii6     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  III 

Spoke  and  writ  sweetly,  or  of  learned  subjects, 

Or  of  the  discipline  of  public  weals ; 

And  'twas  the  Earl  of  Oxford  ;   and  being  offer'd  95 

At  that  time,  by  Duke  Casimir,  the  view 

Of  his  right  royal  army  then  in  field, 

Refused  it,  and  no  foot  was  mov'd  to  stir 

Out  of  his  own  free  fore-determin'd  course : 

I,  wondering  at  it,  ask'd  for  it  his  reason,  100 

It  being  an  ofier  so  much  for  his  honour. 

He,  all  acknowledging,  said  'twas  not  fit 

To  take  those  honours  that  one  cannot  quit. 

Ren.    'Twas  answer'd  like  the  man  you  have  describ'd. 

Cler.    And  yet  he  cast  it  only  in  the  way,  105 

To  stay  and  serve  the  world.    Nor  did  it  fit 
His  own  true  estimate  how  much  it  weigh'd. 
For  he  despis'd  it ;    and  esteem'd  it  freer 
To  keep  his  own  way  straight,  and  swore  that  he 
Had  rather  make  away  his  whole  estate  no 

In  things  that  cross'd  the  vulgar,  than  he  would 
Be  frozen  up  stiff  (like  a  Sir  John  Smith, 
His  countryman)  in  common  nobles'  fashions, 
Affecting,  as  the  end  of  noblesse  were. 
Those  servile  observations. 

Ren.  It  was  strange.  115 

Cler.    O,  'tis  a  vexing  sight  to  see  a  man. 
Out  of  his  way,  stalk  proud  as  he  were  in ; 
Out  of  his  way  to  be  officious. 
Observant,  wary,  serious,  and  grave. 

Fearful,  and  passionate,  insulting,  raging,  X2o 

Labour  with  iron  flails  to  thresh  down  feathers 
Flitting  in  air. 

Ren,  What  one  considers  this. 

Of  all  that  are  thus  out,  or  once  endeavours. 
Erring,  to  enter  on  man's  right-hand  path  ? 

Cler.    These  are  too  grave  for  brave  wits  ;  give  them  toys  ;  125 
Labour  bestow'd  on  these  is  harsh  and  thriftiess. 
If  you  would  Consul  be  (says  one)  of  Rome, 
You  must  be  watching,  starting  out  of  sleeps ; 
Every  way  whisking  ;    glorifying  Plebeians  ; 
Kissing  Patricians'  hands,  rot  at  their  doors ;  130 

Speak  and  do  basely ;  every  day  bestow 
Gifts  and  observance  upon  one  or  other : 
And  what's  th'  event  chE  all  ?     Twelve  rods  before  thee  : 


Sc  4]         THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS      117 

Hiree  or  four  times  sit  for  the  whole  tribunal ; 

Exhibit  Carcene  games  ;    make  public  feasts  ;  135 

And  for  these  idle  outward  things  (sa3rs  he) 

Would'st  thou  lay  on  such  cost,  toil,  spend  thy  spirits  ? 

And  to  be  void  of  perturbation. 

For  constancy,  sleep  when  thou  would'st  have  sleep. 

Wake  when  thou  would'st  wake,  fear  nought,  vex  for  nought,  140 

No  pains  wilt  thou    bestow,    no  cost,    no  thought  ? 

Ren,    What  should  I  say  ?    As  good  consort  with  you 
As  with  an  angel ;    I  could  hear  you  ever. 

Cler,     Well,  in,  my  lord,  and  spend  time  with  my  sister, 
And  keep  her  from  the  field  with  all  endeavour ;  145 

The  soldiers  love  her  so,  and  she  so  madly 
Would  take  my  apprehension,  if  it  chance, 
That  blood  would  flow  in  rivers. 

Bsn.  Heaven  forbid  1 

And  all  with  honour  your  arrival  speed  1  E»it 

Enter  Messenger  unth  two  Soldiers  like  lackeys 

Mes.     Here  are  two  lackeys,  sir,  have  message  to  you.        150 

Cler,     What  is  your    message,    and  from  whom,   my 
friends  ? 

1st  Sold,    From  the  Lieutenant,  Colonel,  and  the  Captains ; 
Who  sent  us  to  inform  you  that  the  battles 
Stand  ready  rang'd,  expecting  but  your  presence 
To  be  their  honoured  signal  when  to  join,  155 

And  we  are  charg'd  to  run  by,  and  attend  you. 

Cler.     I  come.    I  pray  you  see  my  running  horse 
Brought  to  the  back-gate  to  me. 

Mes,  Instantly. 

Exit  Messenger. 

Cler.     Chance  what  can  chance  me,  well  or  ill  is  equal 
In  my  acceptance,  since  I  joy  in  neither,  x6o 

But  go  with  sway  of  all  the  world  together. 
In  all  successes  Fortune  and  the  day 
To  me  alike  are ;    I  am  fix'd,  be  she 
Never  so  fickle ;    and  will  there  repose. 

Far  past  the  reach  of  any  die  she  throws.  165 

Exit  cum  Pedisequis 

FINIS  ACTUS  TBRTU 


rr8     THE  REVENGE  OF  EUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  IV 

ACTUS  QUARTI  SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Field  near  CemibrM] 

Alarum  within  :   txcursions  ovtr  tM»  Stage 

The  [Soldiers  disguised  like}  Lackejrs  running,  Maillard  following 
them 

Mail.    Villains,  not  hold  him  when  ye  had  him  down  I 
1st  Lackey.    Who  can  hold  lightning  ?    'Sdeath,  a  man  as 
weU 
Might  catch  a  cannon-bullet  in  his  montii, 
And  spit  it  in  your  hands,  as  take  and  hold  him. 

Mail.     Pursue,  enclose  him  I  Stand  or  fall  on  him,  5 

And  ye  may  take  him.    'Sdeath,  tiiey  make  him  gaards  I 

Exit  [with  the  Lacheys] 

Alarum  sHU.  and  enter  Chalon  [with  two  Soldiers] 

Choi.     Stand,    cowards,     stand,    strike,    send   }n}nr 

ballets  at  him  I 
istSold.     We  came  to  entertain  him,  sir,  for  honour. 
2nd  Sold.     Did  ye  not  say  so  ? 

Chal.  Slaves,  he  is  a  traitor  t 

Conmiand  the  horse  troops  to  over-run  the  traitor.  10 

Exeunt 

"     4m  stiil,  and  chambers  shot  off.     Then 
enter  Aumale 
t  breathes  thus  in  this  more  than  man, 
issess'd,  and  in  a  stoim 
9  field  like  autumn  leaves  ? 
ning  in  the  lackeys'  hands, 
ndden  violent  twitch  unhors'd  him,        15 
imself,  their  saucy  fingers 
as  he  had  been  fire, 
ade  in,  through  all  whose  force, 
rce  and  fire-given  cannon 
■mit  out  amcmgst  them.  30 

two  half-moons  enclos'd  him, 
as  if  he  were  the  light, 
who  wond'ring  what  he  was, 
ams,  and  gave  him  glorious  pass: 


Sc.  1]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         119 

And  as  a  great  shot  from  a  town  besieg'd  25 

At  foes  before  it  flies  forth  black  and  roaring, 

But  they  too  fax,  and  that  with  weight  oppressed, 

(As  if  disdaining  earth)  doth  only  graze. 

Strike  earth,  and  up  again  into  the  air ; 

Again  sinks  to  it,  and  again  doth  rise,  30 

And  keeps  such  strength  that  when  it  softliest  moves. 

It  piecemeal  shivers  any  let  it  proves: 

So  flew  brave  Clermont  forth,  till  breath  forsook  him, 

Then  fell  to  earth ;    and  yet  (sweet  man)  even  then 

His  spirit's  convulsions  made  him  bound  again  35 

Past  all  their  reaches ;    till,  all  motion  spent. 

His  fix'd  eyes  cast  a  blaze  of  such  disdain. 

All  stood  and  star'd,  and  untouch'd  let  him  lie. 

As  something  sacred  fallen  out  of  the  sky. 

A  cry  within 

0  now  some  rude  hand  hath  laid  hold  on  him  I  40 

Enter  Maillard,    Chalon   leading  Clermont,    Captains   and 

Soldiers  foUowing 

See  prisoner  led,  with  his  bands  honour'd  more 
Than  all  the  freedom  he  enjoy'd  before. 

Mail,    At  length  we  have  you,  sir. 

Cler,  You  have  much  joy  too  ; 

1  made  you  sport  yet;    but  I  pray  you  tell  me. 
Are  not  you  perjur'd  ? 

Mail,  No ;    I  swore  for  the  King.  45 

Cler.    Yet  perjury,  I  hope,  is  perjury.      ' 

Mail,    But  thus  forswearing  is  not  perjury. 
You  are  no  politician :    not  a  fault. 
How  foul  soever,  done  for  private  ends. 

Is  taxAt  in  us  sworn  to  the  public  good :  50 

We  never  can  be  of  the  damned  crew. 
We  may  impolitic  ourselves  (as  'twere) 
Into  the  kingdom's  body  politic, 
Whereof  indeed  we're  members ;   you  miss  terms. 

Cler.    The  things  are  yet  the  same.  55 

Mail,    'Tis  nothing  so  ;    the  property  is  alter'd  ; 
Y'are  no  lawyer.    Or  say  that  oath  and  oath 
Are  still  the  same  in  number,  yet  their  species 
Difler  extremely,  as,  for  flat  example, 
When  politic  widows  try  men  for  their  turn,  ^ 


120     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Act  IV 

Before  they  wed  them,  they  are  harlots  then, 
But  when  they  wed  them,  they  are  honest  women ; 
So  private  men,  when  they  forswear,  betray. 
Are  perjur'd  treachers,  but  being  public  once. 
That  is,  sworn,  married,  to  the  public  good —  65 

Cler,    Are  married  women  public  ? 
Mail,  Public  good  ; 

For  marriage  makes  them,  being  the  public  good, 
And  could  not  be  without  them.    So  I  say 
Men  public,  that  is,  being  sworn  or  married 
To  the  good  public,  being  one  body  made  70 

With  the  realm's  body  politic,  are  no  more 
Private,  nor  can  be  perjur'd,  though  forsworn. 
More  than  a  widow,  married  for  the  act 
Of  generation,  is  for  that  an  harlot. 

Because  for  that  she  was  so,  being  immarried :  75 

An  argument  a  paribus, 

Chal.  'Tis  a  shrewd  one. 

Cler.    *  Who  hath  no  faith  to  men,  to  God  hath  none  ' : 
Retain  you  that,  sir  ?    Who  said  so  ? 
Mail.  'Twas  I. 

Cler.    Thy  own  tongue  damn  thy  infidelity ! 
But,  captains  all,  you  know  me  nobly  bom,  80 

Use  ye  t'assault  such  men  as  I  with  lackeys  ? 
Chal.    They  are  no  lackeys,  sir,  but  soldiers 
Disguis'd  in  lackeys'  coats. 

1st  Sold.  Sir,  we  have  seen  the  enemy. 

Cler.    Avaunt,  ye  rascals  !  Hence  t 
Mail.  Now  leave  your  coats. 

Cler.    Let  me  not  see  them  more.  85 

Aum.     I   grieve  that  virtue  lives  so  undistinguish'd 
From  vice  in  any  ill,  and  though  the  crown 
Of  sovereign  law,  she  should  be  yet  her  footstool. 
Subject  to  censure,  all  the  shame  and  pain 
Of  all  her  rigour. 

Cler.  Yet  false  policy  90 

Would  cover  aU,  being  like  offenders  hid, 
That  (after  notice  taken  where  they  hide) 
The  more  they  crouch  and  stir,  the  more  are  spied. 
Aum.    I  wonder  how  this  chanc'd  you. 
Cler.  Some  informer. 

Bloodhound  to  mischief,  usher  to  the  hangman,  95 

Thirsty  of  honour  for  some  huge  state  act. 


Sc.  I]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         I2i 

Perceiving  me  great  with  the  worthy  Guise, 

And  he  (I  know  not  why)  held  dangjerous, 

Made  me  the  desperate  organ  of  his  danger. 

Only  with  that  poor  colour :    'tis  the  common  loo 

And  more  than  whore-like  trick  of  treachery 

And  vermia  bred  to  rapine  and  to  rwn  : 

For  which  this  fault  is  still  to  be  accus'd. 

Since  good  acts  fail,  crafts  and  deceits  are  us'd. 

If  it  be  other,  never  pity  me.  105 

Aum.     Sir,  we  are  glad,  believe  it,  and  have  hope. 
The  King  will  so  conceit  it. 

Cler.  At  his  pleasure. 

In  meantime,  what's  your  will.  Lord  Lieutenant  ? 

MaiL    To  leave  your  own  horse,  and  to  mount  the  trum- 
pet's. 

CUr,    It  shaU  be  done.    This  heavily  prevents  no 

My  purpos'd  recreation  in  these  parts ; 
Which  now  I  think  on,  let  me  beg  you,  sir. 
To  lend  me  some  one  captain  of  your  troops 
To  bear  the  message  of  my  hapless  service 
And  misery  to  my  most  noble  mistress,  115 

Countess  of  Cambrai ;    to  whose  house  this  night 
I  promis'd  my  repair,  and  know  most  truly, 
With  all  the  ceremonies  of  her  favour, 
She  sure  expects  me. 

Mail.  Think  you  now  on  that  ? 

Cler,    On  that,  sir  ?  Ay,  and  that  so  worthily,  120 

That  if  the  King,  in  spite  of  your  great  service. 
Would  send  me  instant  promise  of  enlargement. 
Condition  I  would  set  this  message  by, 
I  would  not  take  it,  but  had  rather  die!. 

Aum,    Your  message  shall  be  done,  sir ;    I  myself  125 

Will  be  for  you  a  messenger  of  HI. 

Cler,     I  thank  you,  sir,  and  doubt  not  yet  to  live 
To  quite  your  kindness. 

Aum.  Mean  space  use  your  spirit 

And  knowledge  for  the  cheerful  patience 
Of  this  so  strange  and  sudden  consequence.  130 

Cler,    Good  sir,  beUeve  that  no  particular  torture 
Can  force  me  from  my  glad  obedience 
To  anything  the  high  and  general  Cause 
To  match  with  his  whole  fabric  hath  ordain'd : 
And  know  ye  all  (though  fax  from  all  your  aims  135 


122     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Act  IV 

Yet  worth  them  all,  and  all  men's  endless  studies) 

That  in  this  one  thing,  all  the  discipline 

Of  manners  and  of  manhood  is  contain'd : 

A  man  to  join  himself  with  th'  Universe 

In  his  main  sway,  and  make  (in  all  things  fit)  140 

One  with  that  All,  and  go  on  romid  as  it ; 

Not  plucking  from  the  whole  his  wretched  part. 

And  into  straits,  or  into  nought  revert, 

Wishing  the  complete  Universe  might  be 

Subject  to  such  a  rag  of  it  as  he ;  1 45 

But  to  consider  great  Necessity 

All  things  as  well  refract  as  voluntary 

Reduceth  to  the  prime  celestial  cause ; 

Which  he  that  yields  to  with  a  man's  applause, 

And  cheek  by  dieek  goes,  crossing  it  no  breath,  150 

But,  like  God's  image,  follows  to  the  death. 

That  man  is  truly  wise,  and  everything 

(Each  cause,  and  every  part  distinguishing) 

In  nature  with  enough  art  understands. 

And  that  full  glory  merits  at  all  hands,  155 

That  doth  the  whole  woild  at  all  parts  adorn. 

And  appertains  to  one  celestial  bom.  E^feunt  omnes 

[SCENA  SECUNDA 

A  Roam  in  the  Couii] 

EfU&r  Baligny,  Renel 

Bal.    So  foul  a  scandal  never  man  sustain'd. 
Which,  caus'd  by  th'  King,  is  rude  and  tyrannous : 
Give  me  a  place,  and  my  Lieutenant  make 
The  fiUer  of  it ! 

Ren.  1  should  never  look 

For  better  of  him  ;    never  trust  a  man  5 

For  any  justice,  that  is  rapt  with  pleasure ; 
To  order  arms  well,  that  makes  smocks  his  ensigns 
And  his  whole  government's  sails :   you  heard  of  late, 
He  had  the  four  and  twenty  ways  of  venery 
Done  all  before  him. 

Bal.  'Twas  abhorr'd  and  beastiy.       10 

R0n.    'Tis  more  than  Nature's  mighty  hand  can  do 
To  make  one  human  and  a  lecher  too. 


Sc  2]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS        123 

Look  how  a  wolf  dotii  like  a  dog  appear. 

So  like  a  Mend  is  an  adulterer : 

Vdlnptnaries,  and  these  belly-gods,  15 

No  more  true  men  are  than  so  many  toads. 

A  good  man  happy,  is  a  common  good ; 

Vae  men  advanc'd  live  of  the  common  blood. 

Bal.    Give  and  then  take,  like  children  I 

Ren.  Bounties  are 

As  soon  repented  as  they  happen  rare.  20 

Bal.    What  should  IdxigB  do,  and  men  of  eminent  places. 
But,  as  they  gather,  sow  gifts  to  the  Graces  ? 
And  where  they  have  given,  rather  give  again, 
(Being  given  for  virtue)  than  like  babes  and  fools, 
Take  and  repent  gifts  ?  Why  are  wealth  and  power  ?  25 

Ren.    Power  and  wealth  move  to  tyranny,  not  bounty ; 
The  merchant  for  his  wealth  is  swoln  in  mind» 
When  yet  the  chief  lord  of  it  is  the  wind. 

Bal.    That  may  so  chance  to  our  state-merchants  too ; 
Something  perform-d,  that  hath  not  far  to  go.  30 

Ren.    That's  the  main  point,  my  lord ;  insist  on  that. 

Bal.    But  doth  this  fire  rage  further  ?  Hath  it  taken 
The  tender  tinder  of  my  wife's  sere  blood  ? 
Is  she  so  pasaionata  ? 

Ren.  So  wild,  so  mad. 

She  cannot  live,  and  tins  unwreak'd  sustain.  35 

The  woes  are  bloody  that  in  women  reign. 
The  SicOe  gulf  keeps  fear  in  less  degree ; 
There  is  no  tiger  not  more  tame  than  she. 

Bal.    There  is  no  looking  home,  then  ? 

Ren.  Home !    Medea 

With  all  her  herbs,  charms,  thunders,  lightnings,  40 

Made  not  her  presence  and  black  haunts  more  dreadful. 

Bal.    Come  to  the  King;   if  he  reform  not  all, 
Mark  the  event,  none  stand  where  that  must  fall.    ExeueU 


[SCENA  TERTIA 

A  Room  in  the  House  of  the  Countess  of  Cambrai]. 

Enter  Countess,  Riova,  and  an  Usher 

Ush.    Madam,  a  captain  come  from  Qennont  d'Ambois 
Desires  access  to  you. 


124    THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    f  [Act  IV 

Count.  And  not  himself  ? 

Ush,    No,  madam. 

Count.  That's  not  well.    Attend  him  in. 

The  last  hour  of  his  promise  now  run  out,         Exit  Usher 
And  he  break  ?  Some  brack's  in  the  frame  of  nature  5 

That  forceth  his  breach. 

Enter  Usher  and  Aumale 

Aum.  Save  your  ladyship  1 

Count,    All  welcome !  Come  you  from  my  worthy  servant  ? 

Aum.    Ay,  madam ;    and  confer  such  news  from  him — 

Count.    Such  news  ?    What  news  ? 

Aum.    News  that  I  wish,  some  other  had  the  charge  of.     10 

Count.    Oh,  what  charge  ?  What  news  ? 

Aum.    Your  ladyship  must  use  some  patience 
Or  else  I  cannot  do  him  that  desire 
He  urg'd  with  such  affection  to  your  graces. 

Count.    Do  it,  for  heaven's  love  do  itl    If  you  serve        15 
His  kind  desires,  I  wiU  have  patience. 
Is  he  in  health  ? 

Aum.  He  is. 

Count.  Why,  that's  the  ground 

Of  all  the  good  estate  we  hold  in  earth ; 
All  our  ill  built  upon  that  is  no  more 
Than  we  may  bear,  and  should ;    express  it  all.  20 

Aum.    Madam,  'tis  only  this ;   his  liberty — 

Count.    His  liberty  t    Without  that,  health  is  nothing. 
Why  live  I,  but  to  ask,  in  doubt  of  that, 
Is  that  bereft  him  ? 

Aum.  Youll  again  prevent  me. 

Count.    No  more,  I  swear ;    I  must  hear,  and  together      25 
Come  all  my  misery  !     I'll  hold  though  I  burst.  | 

Aum.    Then,  madam,  thus  it  fares.    He  was  invited. 
By  way  of  honour  to  him,  to  take  view 
Of  all  the  powers  his  brother  Baligny 

Hath  in  his  government;   which  rang'd  in  battles,  30 

Maillard,  Lieutenant  to  the  Governor, 
Having  receiv'd  strict  lettez^  from  the  King 
To  train  him  to  the  musters,  and  betray  him 
To  their  surprise,  which,  with  Chalon  in  chief. 
And  other  captains  (all  the  field  put  hard  35 

By  his  incredible  valour  for  his  scape) 


Sc.  3]       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS      125 

They  haplessly  and  guiltlessly  perform'd. 
And  to  Bastile  he's  now  led  prisoner. 

Count.    What  change  is  here  I  How  are  my  hopes  prevented ! 
O  my  most  faithful  servant,  thou  betray'd  I  40 

Will  kings  make  treason  lawful  ?    Is  society 
(To  keep  which  only  kings  were  first  ordain'd) 
Less  broke  in  brealdng  faith  'twixt  frigid  and  friend. 
Than  'twixt  the  king  and  subject  ?     Let  them  fear. 
Kings'  precedents  in  licence  lack  no  danger.  45 

Kings  are  compar'd  to  gods,  and  should  be  Hke  them, 
Full  in  all  right,  in  nought  superfluous. 
Nor  nothing  straining  past  right  for  their  right : 
Keign  justly  and  reign  safely.     Policy 

Is  but  a  guard  corrupted,  and  a  way  50 

Ventur'd  in  deserts,  without  guide  or  path. 
Kings  punish  subjects'  errors  with  their  own. 
Kings  are  like  archers,  and  their  subjects,  shafts : 
For  as  when  archers  let  their  arrows  fly. 
They  call  to  them,|(and  bid  them  fly  or  fall,  55 

As  if  'twere  in  the  free  power  of  the  shaft 
To  fly  or  faU,  when  only  'tis  the  strength. 
Straight  shooting,  compass,  given  it  by  the  archer, 
That  makes  it  hit  or  miss  ;    and  doing  either,  f^ 

He's  to  be  prais'd  or  blam'd,  and  not  the  shaft :  60 

So  kings  to  subjects  crying,  '  Do,  do  not  this ', 
Must  to  them  by  their  own  examples'  strength, 
The  straightness  of  their  acts,  and  equal  compass,  < 

Give  subjects  power  f  obey  them  in  the  like ; 
Not  shoot  them  forth  with  faulty  aim  and  strength,  65 

And  lay  the  fault  in  them  for  flying  amiss. 

Aunt.    But,  for  your  servant,  I  dare  swear  him  guiltless. 

Cotm/.     He  would  not  for  his  kingdom  traitor  be ; 
His  laws  are  not  so  true  to  him  as  he. 

O  knew  I  how  to  free  him,  by  way  forc'd  70 

Through  all  their  army,  I  would  fly,  and  do  it: 
And  had  I  of  my  courage  and  resolve 
But  ten  such  more,  they  should  not  all  retain  him ; 
But  I  will  never  die  before  I  give 

Biaillard  an  hundred  siashes^with  a  sword,  75 

ChaloQ  an  hundred  breaches  with  a  pistol. 
They  could  not  all  have  taken  Clermont  d'Ambois 
Wiliiout  their  treachery ;    he  had  bought  his  bands  out 
With  their  slave  bloods  ;   but  he  was  credulous ; 


126      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  IV 

He  would  believe,  since  he  would  be  believ'd ;  80 

Your  noblest  natures  are  most  credulous. 

Who  gives  no  trust,  all  trust  ia  apt  to  break ; 

Hate  like  hell-mouth  who  think  not  what  they  speak. 

Aum,    Well,  madam,  I  must  tender  my  attendance 
On  him  again.    Will't  please  you  to  return  85 

No  service  to  him  by  me  ? 

Count,  Fetch  me  straight 

My  Uttle  cabinet.     {Exit  Ancilla)    Tis  Uttle,  tell  him, 
And  much  too  little  for  his  matchless  love : 
But  as  in  him  the  worths  of  many  men 

Are  close  contracted  (Intrat  Ancilla),  so  in  this  are  jewels      90 
Worth  many  cabinets.     Here,  with  this  (good  sir). 
Commend  my  kindest  service  to  my  servant. 
Thank  him,  with  all  my  comforts,  and,  in  them 
With  all  my  life  for  them :    all  sent  from  him 
In  his  remembrance  of  me,  and  true  love ;  95 

And  look  you  tell  him,  tell  him  how  I  lie 

She  kneels  down  at  his  feet 
Prostrate  at  feet  of  his  accurs'd  misfortune, 
Pouring  my  tears  out,  which  shall  ever  fall 
Till  I  have  pour'd  for  him  out  eyes  and  all. 

Aum,    O,  madam,  this  will  kiU  him  :  comfort  you  100 

With  fuU  assurance  of  his  quick  acquittal : 
Be  not  so  passionate :    rise,  cease  your  tears. 

Count,    Then  must  my  life  cease.    Tears  are  all  the  vent 
My  life  hath  to  scape  death.    Tears  please  me  better 
Than  all  life's  comforts,  being  the  natural  seed  105 

Of  hearty  sorrow.    As  a  tree  fruit  bears. 
So  doth  an  undissembled  sorrow  tears. 

He  raises  her,  and  leads  her  out.    Exeunt 

Ush.    This  might  have  been  before,  and  sav'd  much  charge. 

Exit 


[SCENA  QUARTA 
A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Henry,  Guise,  Baligny,  Epemon,  Soissons,  Perricot  with 

pen,  ink,  and  paper 

Guise.    Now,  sir,  I  hope  your  much  abus'd  eyes  see. 
In  my  word  for  my  Qermont,  what  a  villain 


Sc.  4]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         127 

He  was  that  whisper'd  in  your  jealous  ear 

His  own  black  treason  in  suggesting  Clermont's, 

Coloured  with  nothing  but  being  great  with  me.  5 

Sign  then  this  writ  for  his  delivery ; 

Your  hand  was  never  urg'd  with  worthier  boldness : 

Come,  pray,  sir,  sign  it :    why  should  kings  be  pray'd 

To  acts  of  justice  ?     'Tis  a  reverence 

Makes  them  despis'd,  and  shows  they  stick  and  tire  10 

In  what  their  free  powers  should  be  hot  as  fire. 

Hen,    Well,    take   your  will,  sir; — I'll   have   mine    ere 
long. —  A  versus 

But  wherein  is  this  Clermont  such  a  rare  one  ? 

Guise.    In  his  most  gentle  and  imwearied  mind 
Rightly  to  virtue  fram'd,  in  very  nature,  15 

In  his  most  firm  inexorable  spirit 
To  be  remov'd  from  anything  he  chooseth 
For  worthiness,  or  bear  the  least  persuasion 
To  what  is  base,  or  fitteth  not  his  object. 
In  his  contempt  of  riches  and  of  greatness,  20 

In  estimation  of  th'idolatrous  vulgar. 
His  scorn  of  all  things  servile  and  ignoble. 
Though  they  could  gain  him  never  such  advancement. 
His  liberal  kind  of  speaking  what  is  truth 
In  spite  of  temporizing,  the  great  rising  25 

And  learning  of  his  soul,  so  much  the  more 
Against  ill  Fortune,  as  she  set  herself 
Sharp  against  him,  or  would  present  most  hard  ^ 

To  sdinn  the  malice  of  her  deadliest  charge ; 
His  detestation  of  his  special  friends,  30 

When  he  perceiv'd  their  tyrannous  will  to  do, 
Or  their  abjection  basely  to  sustain 
Any  injustice  that  they  could  revenge ; 
The  flexibility  of  his  most  anger. 

Even  in  the  main  career  and  fury  of  it,  35 

When  any  object  of  desertful  pity 
Oflers  itself  to  him;   his  sweet  disposure. 
As  mnch  abhorring  to  behold  as  do 
Any  nnnatnial  and  bloody  action ; 

His  just  contempt  of  jesters,  parasites,  40 

Servile  observers,  and  polluted  tongues : 
In  short,  this  Senecal  man  is  found  in  him,. 
He  may  with  heaven's  immortal  powers  compare. 
To  whom  the  day  and  fortune  equal  are ; 


128     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS      [Act  IV 

Come  fair  or  foul,  whatever  chance  can  fall»  45 

Fix'd  in  himself,  he  still  is  one  to  all. 

Hen.    Shows  he  to  others  thus  ? 

Omnes.  To  all  that  know  him. 

Hen.    And  apprehend  I  this  man  for  a  traitor  ? 

Guise.    These  are  your  Machiavellian  villains. 
Your  bastard  Teucers,  that,  their  mischiefs  done,  50 

Run  to  your  shield  for  shelter,  Cacusses 
That  cut  their  too  large  murtherous  thieveries 
To  their  dens'  length  still :   woe  be  to  that  state 
Where  treachery  guards,  and  ruin  makes  men  great  I 

Hen,    Go,  take  my  letters  for  him,  and  release  him.  55 

Omnes.    Thanks  to  your  Highness !  Ever  live  your  High- 
ness !  Exeunt  [all  hut  Baligny] 

Bal.     Better  a  man  were  buried  quick,  than  live 
A  property  for  state,  and  spoil  to  ttirive  Exit 

[SCENA  QUINTA 

On  the  Road  to  Paris] 
Enter  Clermont,  Maillard,  Chalon,  with  Soldiers 

Mail.    We  joy  you  take  a  chance  so  ill,  so  well. 

Cler.    Who  ever  saw  me  difEer  in  acceptance 
Of  either  fortune  ? 

Choi.  What,  love  bad  like  good  ! 

How  should  one  learn  that  ? 

Clef.  To  love  nothing  outward. 

Or  not  within  our  own  powers  to  command ;  5 

And  so  being  sure  of  everything  we  love. 
Who  cares  to  lose  the  rest?    If  any  man 
Would  neither  live  nor  die  in  his  free  choice. 
But  as  he  sees  necessity  will  have  it 

(Which  if  he  would  resist,  he  strives  in  vain)  10 

What  can  come  near  him,  that  he  doth  not  [will,] 
And  if  in  worst  events  his  will  be  done. 
How  can  the  best  be  better  ?     All  is  one. 

Mail.    Methinks  'tis  pretty. 

Clef.  Put  no  difference 

If  you  have  this,  or  not  this  ;    but  as  children  1 5 

Playing  at  quoits,  ever  regard  their  game. 
And  care  not  for  their  quoits,  so  let  a  man 


Sc  5]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         129 

The  things  themselves  that  touch  him  not  esteem, 
Bnt  his  free  power  in  well  disposing  them. 

Choi.    Pretty,  from  toys  I 

Cler.  Methinks  this  double  distich    20 

Seems  prettily  too  to  stay  superfluous  longings : 
'  Not  to  have  want,  what  riches  doth  exceed  ? 
Not  to  be  subject,  what  superior  thing  ? 
He  that  to  nought  aspires,  doth  nothing  need ; 
Who  breaks  no  law  is  subject  to  no  king'.  25 

Mail.    This  goes  to  mine  ear  well,  I  promise  you. 

Choi,    O,  but  'tis  passing  hard  to  stay  one  thus. 

Cler.    'Tis  so ;    rank  custom  raps  men  so  beyond  it ; 
And  as  'tis  hard  so  well  men's  doors  to  bar 
To  keep  the  cat  out,  and  th'  adulterer ;  30 

So  'tis  as  hard  to  curb  afiections  so 
We  let  in  nought  to  make  them  overflow. 
And  as  of  Homer's  verses  many  critic^ 
On  those  stand,  of  which  Time's  old  moth  hath  eaten 
The  first  or  last  feet,  and  the  perfect  paxts  35 

Of  his  unmatched  poem  sink  beneath. 
With  upright  gasping  and  sloth  dull  as  death : 
So  the  unprofitable  things  of  life. 
And  those  we  cannot  compass,  we  aflect ; 
All  that  doth  profit,  and  we  have,  neglect;  40 

Like  covetous  and  basely  getting  men. 
That,  gathering  much,  use  never  what  they  keep ; 
But  for  the  least  they  lose,  extremely  weep. 

Mail.    This  pretty  talking,  and  our  horses  walking 
Down  this  steep  hill,  spends  time  with  equal  profit.  45 

Cler.    'Tis  well  bestow'd  on  ye ;    meat  and  men  sick 
Agree  like  this  and  you :    and  yet  even  this 
Is  th'  end  of  all  skill,  power,  wealth,  all  that  is. 

Choi.    I  long  to  hear,  sir,  how  your  mistress  takes  this. 

Enter  Aumale  with  a  cabinet 

Mail.    We  soon  diall  know  it ;  see  Aumale  retom'd  50 

Aum.    Ease  to  your  bands,  sir! 

Cler.  Welcome,  worthy  friend  t 

Choi.    How  took  his  noblest  mistress  your  sad  message  ? 

Aum.    As  great  rich  men  take  sudden  poverty. 
I  never  witness'd  a  moce  noble  love. 

Nor  a  more  ruthful  sorrow:   I  well  wi^M  55 

Some  other  had  been  master  of  my  message. 

C.D.W«  K 


130      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  IV 

Mail,    Y'Jare  happy,  sir,  in  all  things,  but  this  one 
Of  your  unhappy  apprehension. 

Chf.    This  is  to  me,  compared  with  her  much  moan, 
As  one  tear  is  to  her  whole  passion.  60 

Aum,     Sir,  she  commends  her  kindest  service  to  you, 
And  this  rich  cabinet. 

Chcd,  O  happy  man  ! 

This  may  enough  hold  to  redeem  your  bands. 

Chf.    These  clouds,  I  doubt  not,  will  be  soon  blown  over. 

Enter  Baligny  with  his  discharge,  Renel,  and  others 

Aum.    Your  hope  is  just  and  happy  ;    see,  sir,  both,         65 
In  both  the  looks  of  these. 

Bal.  Here's  a  discharge 

For  this  your  prisoner,  my  good  Lord  Lieutenant. 

Mat'/.     Alas,  sir  I  I  usurp  that  style,  enforced. 
And  hope  you  know  it  was  not  my  aspiring. 

Bal.    Well,  sir,  my  wrong  aspir'd  past  all  men's  hopes.      70 

Mail.    I  sorrow  for  it,  sir. 

Ren.  You  see,  sir,  there 

Your  prisoner's  discharge  autentical. 

Mail.     It  is,  sir,  and  I  yield  it  him  with  gladness. 

Bal.    Brother,  I  brought  you  down  to  much  good  purpose. 

Cler.     Repeat  not  that,  sir ;    the  amends  makes  all.  75 

Ren.    I  joy  in  it,  my  best  and  worthiest  friend  ; 

0  y'have  a  princely  fautor  of  the  Gtiise. 
Bal.    I  think  I  did  my  part  too. 

Ren  Well,  sir,  all 

Is  in  the  issue  well :    and,  worthiest  friend. 
Here's  from  your  friend,  the  Guise  ;  here  from  the  Countess, 
Your  brother's  mistress,  [giving  letters],  the  contents  whereof   80 

1  know,  and  must  prepare  you  now  to  please 
Th'  unrested  spirit  of  your  slaughter'd  brother. 
If  it  be  true,  as  you  imagin'd  once 

His  apparition  show'd  it ;    the  complot  85 

Is  now  laid  sure  betwixt  us;    therefore  haste 

Both  to  your  great  friend  (who  hath  some  use  weighty 

For  your  repair  to  him)  and  to  the  Countess, 

Whose  satisfaction  is  no  less  important. 

Cler.    I  see  all,  and  will  haste  as  it  importeth  ;  90 

And,  good  friend,  since  I  must  delay  a  little 
My  wish'd  attendance  on  my  noblest  mistress. 
Excuse  me  to  her,  with  return  of  this. 


Sc.  5]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         131 

And  endless  protestation  of  my  service ; 

And  now  become  as  glad  a  messenger  95 

As  you  were  late  a  wofol. 

Aum.  Happy  change ! 

I  ever  will  salute  thee  with  my  service.  Exit 

Bal,    Yet  more  news,  brother  ;   the  late  jesting  Monsieur 
Makes  now  your  brother's  dying  prophecy  equal 
At  all  parts,  being  dead  as  he  presag'd.  xoo 

Ren.    Heaven  shield  the  Guise  from  seconding  that  truth, 
With  what  he  hkewise  prophesied  on  him. 

(^er.    It  hath  enough,  'twas  grac'd  with  truth  in  one ; 
To  th'  other  ^dsehood  and  confusion ! 
Lead  to  th'  Court,  sir. 

Bal.  You  I'll  lead  no  more,      X05 

It  was  too  ominous  and  foul  before.  Exewti 

FINIS  ACTUS  QUARTI 


ACTUS   QUINTI  SCENA  PRIBtA 

[A  Room  in  the  House  of  Guise] 

Ascendii  Umbra  Busty 

Umb.    Up  from  the  chaos  of  eternal  night. 
(To  which  the  whole  digestion  of  the  world 
Is  now  returning)  once  more  I  ascend. 
And  bide  the  cold. damp  of  this  piercing  air. 
To  urge  the  justice  whose  ahnighty  word  5 

Measures  the  bloody  acts  of  impious  men 
With  equal  penance,  who  in  th'  act  itself 
Includes  th'  infliction,  which  like  duuned  shot 
Batter  together  still ;    though  as  the  thunder 
Seems,  by  men's  duller  hearing  than  their  sight,  xo 

To  break  a  great  time  after  lightning  forth. 
Yet  both  at  one  time  tear  the  labouring  cloud. 
So  men  think  penance  of  their  ills  is  slow, 
Though  th'  ill  and  penance  still  together  go. 
Reform,  ye  ignorant  men,  your  manless  lives,  15 

Whose  laws  ye  think  are  nothing  but  your  lusts. 
When  leaving  but  for  supposition'  sake 
The  body  of  felicity,  religion 
(Set  in  the  midst  of  Christendom,  and  her  head 
Cleft  to  her  bosom,  one  half  one  way  swayiug,  20 

Another  th'  other),  all  the  Christian  world 


I. 
1 


132       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [AcrV 

And  all  her  laws,  whose  observation 

Stands  upon  faith,  above  the  power  of  reason — 

Leaving  (I  say)  all  these,  this  might  suffice 

To  fray  ye  from  your  vicious  swinge  in  ill,  25 

And  set  you  more  on  fire  to  do  more  good, 

That  since  the  wozld  (as  which  of  you  denies  ?) 

Stands  by  proportion,  all  may  thence  conclude 

That  all  the  joints  and  nerves  sustaining  nature 

As  well  may  breaks  and  yet  the  world  abide,  30 

As  any  one  good  unrewarded  die. 

Or  any  o^e  ill  scape  his  penalty.       The  Ghost  stands  doss 

Enter  Guise,  Clermont 

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

But  now  thy  dangers  are  dispatch'd,  note  mine : 
Hast  thou  not  heard  of  that  admired  voice 
That  at  the  barricadoes  spake  to  me 
(No  person  seen),  '  Lef  s  lead  my  lord  to  Rheims '  ? 

Cler.    Nor  could  you  learn  the  person  ? 

Guise,  By  no  means.    40 

Cler,    Twas  but  your  fancy,  then,  a  waldng  dream : 
For  as  in  sleep,  which  binds  both  th'  outward  senses. 
And  the  sense  common  too,  th'  imagining  power 
(Stirr'd  up  by  forms  hid  in  the  memory's  store. 
Or  by  the  vapours  of  o'erflowing  humours  45 

In  bodies  full  and  foul,  and  mix'd  with  spirits) 
Feigns  many  strange,  miraculous  images. 
In  which  act  it  so  painfully  applies 
Itself  to  those  forms  that  the  common  sense 
It  actuates  with  his  motion,  and  thereby  50 

Those  fictions  true  seem,  and  have  real  act : 
So,  in  the  strength  of  our  conceits  awake. 
The  cause  alike  doth  [oft]  like  fictions  make. 

Guise,    Be  what  it  will,  'twas  a  presage  of  something 
Weighty  and  secret,  wliich  th'  advertisements  55 

I  have  receiv'd  from  all  parts,  both  without 
And  in  this  kingdom,  as  from  Rome  and  Spain, 
[Lorraine]  and  Savoy,  gives  me  cause  to  think. 
All  writing  that  our  plot* s  catastrophe, 
For  propagation  of  the  Catholic  cause,  60 


i 


Sc  I]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         133 

Will  bloody  prove,  dissolving  all  our  counsels. 

Cler.    Retire,  then,  from  them  all. 

Guise.  I  must  not  do  so. 

The  Archbishop  of  Lyons  tells  me  plain 
I  shall  be  said  then  to  abandon  France 

In  so  important  an  occasion ;  65 

And  that  mine  enemies  (their  profit  making 
Of  my  faint  absence)  soon  would  let  that  fall, 
That  all  my  pains  did  to  this  height  exhale. 

Cier.    Let  all  fall  that  would  rise  unlawfully : 
Make  not  your  forward  spirit  in  virtue's  right  70 

A  property  for  vice,  by  thrusting  on 
Further  than  all  your  powers  can  fetch  you  off. 
It  is  enough,  your  will  is  infinite 
To  all  things  virtuous  and  religious. 

Which,  within  limits  kept,  may  without  dangbr  75 

Let  virtue  some  good  from  your  graces  gather. 
Avarice  of  all  is  ever  nothing's  father. 

Ufpib.  [advancing]    Danger  (the  spur  of  all  great  minds) 
is  ever 
The  curb  to  your  tame  spirits ;   you  respect  not 
(WUh  all  your  holiness  of  life  and  learning)  80 

More  than  the  present,  like  illiterate  vulgars ; 
Your  mind  (you  say)  kept  in  your  fiesh's  botmds, 
Shows  that  man's  will  must  ruVd  be  by  his  power : 
When  (by  true  doctrine)  you  are  taught  to  live 
Rather  without  the  body  than  within,  85 

And  rather  to  your  God  stiU  than  yourself ; 
To  live  to  Him,  is  to  do  all  things  fitting 
His  image,  in  which,  like  Himself,  we  live ; 
To  be  His  image  is  to  do  those  things 

That  make  us  deathless,  which  by  death  is  only  90 

Doing  those  deeds  that  fit  eternity ; 
And  tiioee  deeds  are  the  perfecting  that  justice 
That  makes  the  world  last,  which  proportion  is 
Of  punishment  and  wreak  for  every  wrong, 
As  well  as  for  right  a  reward  as  strong.  95 

Away,  then !    Use  the  meand  thou  hast  to  right 
The  wrong  I  sufFer'd.    What  corrupted  law 
Leaves  unperform'd  in  kings,  do  thou  supply, 
And  be  above  them  all  in  dignity.  Exit 

Guise.    Why  stand'st  thou  still  thus,  and  apply'st  thine  ears  100 
And  eyee  to  nothing  ? 


134       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Act  V 

Chr,  Saw  you  nothing  here  ? 

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

Chr.    My  brother's  spirit,  urging  his  revenge. 

Guise.     Thy  brother's  spirit !     Pray  thee  mock  me  not. 

Cler.    No,  by  my  love  and  service ! 

Guise.  Would  he  rise,  105 

And  not  be  thund'ring  threats  against  the  Guise  ? 

Cler.    You  make  amends  for  enmity  to  him 
With  ten  parts  more  love  and  desert  of  me ; 
And  as  you  make  your  hate  to  him  no  let 
Of  any  love  to  me,  no  more  bears  he  no 

(Since  you  to  me  supply  it)  hate  to  you. 
Which  reason  and  which  justice  is  performed 
In  spirits  ten  parts  more  than  fleshy  men ; 
To  whose  fore-sights  our  acts  and  thoughts  he  open :. 
And  therefore,  since  he  saw  the  treachery  115 

Late  practised  by  my  brother  Baligny, 
He  would  not  honour  his  hand  with  the  justice 
(As  he  esteems  it)  of  his  blood's  revenge. 
To  which  my  sister  needs  would  have  him  sworn, 
Before  she  would  consent  to  marry  him.  120 

Guise.    O  Baligny  1 — ^Who  would  believe  there  were 
A  man,  that  (only  since  his  looks  are.  rais'd 
Upwards,  and  have  but  sacred  heaven  in  sight) 
Could  bear  a  mind  so  more  than  devilish 
As,  for  the  painted  g^oiy  of  the  countenance,  125 

Flitting  in  kings,  doth  good  for  nought  esteem. 
And  the  more  ill  he  does,  the  better  seem  ? 

Cler.    We  easily  may  believe  it,  since  we  seo^ 
In  this  world's  practice  few  men  better  be. 
Justice  to  live  doth  nought  but  justice  need,  130 

But  policy  must  still  on  mischief  feed. 
Untruth,  for  all  his  ends,  truth's  name  doth  sue  in ; 
None  safely  Uve  but  those  that  study  ruin. 
A  good  man  happy  is  a  common  good ; 
111  men  advanc'd  live  of  the  common  blood.  135 

Guise.     But  this  thy  brother's  spirit  startles  me. 
These  spirits  seld  or  never  haunting  men 
But  some  mishap  ensues. 

Cler.  Ensue  what  can  ; 

T3rrants  may  kill,  but  never  hurt  a  man ; 
All  to  his  good  makes,  spite  of  death  and  hell.  140 


Sc.  I]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         135 

Enter  Aumale 

Aum.    All  the  desert  of  good  renown,  your  Highness  1 

Guise.    Welcome,  Aumale  1 

Cler.  My  good  friend,  friendly  welcome  1 

How  took  my  noblest  mistress  the  chang'd  news  ? 

Aum.    It  came  too  late,  sir ;  for  those  loveliest  eyes 
(Through  which  a  soul  look'd  so  divinely  loving)  145 

Tears  nothing  uttering  her  distress  enough. 
She  wept  quite  out,  and  like  two  falling  stars 
Their  dearest  sights  quite  vanished  with  her  tears. 

Cler.     All  good  forbid  it  1 

Guise.  What  events  are  these  ? 

Cler.     All  must  be  borne,  my  lord  ;   and  yet  this  chance     150 
Would  willingly  enforce  a  man  to  cast  ofi 
All  power  to  bear  with  comfort,  since  he  sees 
In  this  our  comforts  made  our  miseries. 

Guise.    How  strangely  thou  art  lov'd  of  both  the  sexes ; 
Yet  thou  lov'st  neither,  but  the  good  of  both.  155 

Cler.     In  love  of  women,  my  affection  first 
Takes  fire  out  of  the  frail  parts  of  my  blood  ; 
Which,  till  I  have  enjoy'd,  is  passionate 
Like  other  lovers ;    but,  fruition  past, 

I  then  love  out  of  judgment,  the  desert  160 

Of  her  I  love  still  sticking  in  my  heart» 
Though  the  desire  and  the  delight  be  gone. 
Which  must  chance  still,  since  the  comparison 
Made  upon  trial  'twixt  what  reason  loves. 
And  what  affection,  makes  in  me  the  best  165 

Ever  preferred,  what  most  love,  valuing  lest. 

Guise.    Thy  love  being  judgment  then,  and  of  the  mind, 
Marry  thy  worthiest  mistress  now  being  blind. 

Cler.     If  there  were  love  in  marriage,  so  I  would : 
But  I  deny  that  any  man  doth  love,  170 

Affecting  wives,  maid,  widows,  any  women : 
For  neither  flies  love  milk,  although  they  drown 
In  greedy  search  thereof ;    nor  doth  the  bee 
Love  honey,  though  the  labour  of  her  life 
Is  spent  in  gathering  it ;    nor  those  that  fat  175 

0[n]  beasts  or  fowls,  do  anything  therein 
For  any  love :    for  as  when  only  Nature 
Moves  men  to  meat,  as  far  as  her  power  rules. 
She  doth  it  with  a  temperate  appetite. 


136       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  V 

The  too  much  men  devour  abhorring  Nature ;  i8o 

And  in  our  most  health  is  our  most  disease ; 

So,  when  humanity  rules  men  and  women, 

'Tis  for  society  confin'd  in  reason. 

But  what  excites  the  bed's  desire  in  blood. 

By  no  means  justly  can  be  constru'd  love ;  185 

For  when  love  kindles  any  knowing  spirit, 

It  ends  in  virtue  and  effects  divine, 

And  is  in  friendship  chaste  and  masculine. 

Guise.    Thou  shalt  my  mistress  be  ;  methinks  my  blood 
Is  taken  up  to  all  love  with  thy  virtues.  190 

And  howsoever  other  men  despise 
These  paradoxes  strange  and  too  precise. 
Since  they  hold  on  the  right  way  of  our  reason, 
I  could  attend  them  ever.    Come,  away! 
Perform  thy  brother's  thus  importun'd  wreak ;  195 

And  I  will  see  what  great  affairs  the  King 
Hath  to  employ  my  counsel,  which  he  seems 
Much  to  desire,  and  more  and  more  esteems.  Exeunt 


[SCENA  SECUNDA 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  Henry,  Baligny  with  sisf  of  the  Guard 

Hen.    Saw  you  his  saucy  forcing  of  my  hand 
To  D'Ambois'  freedom  ? 

Bal,  Saw,  and  through  mine  eyes 

Let  fire  into  my  heart,  that  bum'd  to  bear 
An  insolence  so  giantly  austere. 

Hen.    The  more  kings  bear  at  subjects'  hands,  the  more  5 

Their  ling'ring  justice  gatheis,  that  resembles 
The  weighty  and  the  goodly-bodied  eagle, 
Who  (being  on  earth)  before  her  shady  wings 
Can  raise  her  into  air,  a  mighty  way 

Close  by  the  ground  she  runs ;    but  being  aloft,  10 

All  she  commands,  she  flies  at ;    and  the  more 
Death  in  her  seres  bears,  the  more  time  she  stays 
Her  thund'ry  stoop  from  that  on  which  she  preys. 

Bal,    You  must  be  then  more  secret  in  the  weight 
Of  these  your  shady  counsels,  who  will  else  15 

Bear  (where  such  sparks  fly  as  the  Guise  and  D'Ambois} 


k 


Sc  a]      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         137 

Powder  about  them.    Counsels  (as  your  entrails) 

Should  be  unpierc'd  and  sound  kept ;    for  not  those. 

Whom  you  discover,  you  neglect ;  but  ope 

A  ruinous  passage  to  your  own  best  hope.  20 

Hen.     We  have  spies  set  on  us,  as  we  on  others ; 

And  therefore  they  that  serve  us  must  excuse  us. 

If  what  we  most  hold  in  our  hearts  take  wind ; 

Deceit  hath  eyes  that  see  into  the  mind. 

But  this  plot  shall  be  quicker  than  their  twinkling,  25 

On  whose  lids  Fate  with  her  dead  weight  shall  lie, 

And  Confidence  that  lightens  ere  she  die. 

Ftiends  of  my  guard,  as  ye  gave  oath  to  be 

True  to  your  Sovereign,  keep  it  manfully ; 

Your  eyes  have  witness'd  oft  th'  ambition  30 

That  never  made  access  to  me  in  Guise 

But  treason  ever  sparkled  in  his  eyes ; 

Which  if  you  free  us  of,  our  safety  shall 

You  not  our  subjects  but  our  patrons  call. 

Onmes.    Our  duties  bind  us ;   he  is  now  but  dead.  35 

Hen.     We  trust  in  it.  and  thank  ye.     Baligny, 

Go  lodge  their  ambush,  and  thou  God,  that  art 

Fautor  of  princes,  thunder  from  the  skies 

Beneath  his  hill  of  pride  this  giant  Guise.  Exeunt 


[SCENA  TERTIA 

A  Roam  in  Montsurry's  House] 
Enter  Tamyra  with  a  letter,  Charlotte  in  man's  attire 

Tom,    I  see  jr'are  servant,  sir,  to  my  dear  sister. 
The  lady  of  her  loved  Baligny. 

Char.    Madam,  I  am  bound  to  her  virtuous  bounties 
For  that  life  which  I  ofEer  in  her  service 
To  the  revenge  of  her  renowned  brother.  5 

Tarn.    She  writes  to  me  as  much,  and  much  desires 
That  yott  may  be  the  man,  whose  spirit  she  knows 
Will  cut  short  ofE  these  long  and  dull  delays 
Hitherto  bribing  the  eternal  Justice ! 

Which  I  believe,  since  her  unmatched  spirit  10 

Can  judge  of  spirits  that  have  her  sulphur  in  them ; 
But  I  must  tell  you  that  I  make  no  doubt 
Her  living  brother  will  xevenge  her  dead. 


X38     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       [Act  V 

Ob  ^iHiom  the  dead  impos'd  the  task,  and  he, 

I  know,  will  come  fefiect  it  instantly.  15 

Ckmr.    They  are  but  words  in  him  ;    believe  them  not. 

Tmm,    See ;    this  is  the  vault  where  he  must  enter  ; 
Where  now  I  think  he  is. 

Enttr  Rend  at  the  vatUt,  with  the  Countess  being  blind 

Ren.  God  save  you,  lady  1 

What  gentleman  is  this,  with  whom  you  trust 
The  deadly  weighty  secret  of  this  hour  ?  20 

Tom.    One  that  yourself  will  say  I  well  may  trust. 

Ren,    Then  come  up,  madam. 

He  helps  the  Countess  up 
See  here,  honoured  lady, 
A  Countess,  that  in  love's  mishap 'doth  equal 
At  all  parts  your  wrong'd  self,  and  is  the  mistress 
Of  your  slain  servant's  brother ;    in  whose  love,  25 

For  his  late  treacherous  apprehension. 
She  wept  her  fair  eyes  from  her  ivory  brows. 
And  would  have  wept  her  soul  out,  had  not  I 
Promised  to  bring  her  to  this  mortal  quarry, 
That  by  her  lost  eyes  for  her  servant's  love,  30 

She  might  conjure  him  from  this  stem  attempt. 
In  which  (by  a  most  ominous  dream  she  had) 
She  knows  his  death  fix'd,  and  that  never  more 
Out  of  this  place  the  sim  shaU  see  him  live. 

Char,    I  am  provided,  then,  to  take  his  place  35 

And  undertaking  on  me. 

Ren.  You,  sir  I    Why  ? 

Char,     Since  I  am  charg'd  so  by  my  mistress 
His  mournful  sister. 

Tarn,  See  her  letter,  sir.  He  reads 

Good  madam,  I  rue  your  fate  more  than  mine, 
And  know  not  how  to  order  these  afEairs,  40 

They  stand  on  such  occurrents. 

Ren,  This,  indeed, 

I  know  to  be  your  lady  mistress'  hand. 
And  know,  besides,  his  brother  will  and  must 
Endure  no  hand  in  this  revenge  but  his. 

Enter  Umbra  Bussy 

Utnb.    Away,  dispute  no  more ;    get  up  and  see  1  45 

Clermont  must  author  this  just  tnigedy. 


Sc.  3]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         139 

Count.    Who's  that  ? 

Ren,  The  spirit  of  Bussy. 

Tarn.  O,  my  servant ! 

Let  us  embrace. 

Umb.  Forbear  !     The  air,  in  which 

My  figure's  likeness  is  impressed,  will  blast ; 
Let  my  revenge  for  all  loves  satisfy,  50 

In  which,  dame,  fear  not,  Clermont  shall  not  die : 
No  word  dispute  more ;    up,  and  see  th'  event. 

Exeunt  Ladies 
Make  the  guard  sure,  Renel ;    and  then  the  doors 
Command  to  make  fast  when  the  Earl  is  in.       Exit  Renel 
The  black  soft-footed  hour  is  now  on  wing,  35 

Which,  for  my  just  wreak,  ghosts  shall  celebrate 
With  dances  dire  and  of  infernal  state.  Exit 


[SCENA  QUARTA 

An  Ante-room  in  the  Palace] 
Enter  Guise 

Guise.     Who  says  that  death  is  natural,  when  nature 
Is  with  the  only  thought  of  it  dismay'd  ? 
I  have  had  lotteries  set  up  for  my  death. 
And  I  have  drawn  beneatii  my  trencher  one. 
Knit  in  my  handkerchief  another  lot,  5 

The  word  being,  '  Y'are  a  dead  man  if  you  enter ' ; 
And  these  words  this  imperfect  blood  and  flesh 
Shrink  at  in  spite  of  me,  their  solid'st  part 
Melting  like  snow  within  me  with  cold  fire : 
I  hate  myself,  that,  seeking  to  rule  kings,  10 

I  cannot  curb  my  slave.    Would  any  spirit, 
Free,  manly,  princely,  wish  to  live  to  be 
Commanded  by  this  mass  of  slavery, 
Since  reason,  judgment,  resolution, 

And  scorn  of  what  we  fear,  will  yield  to  fear  ?  15 

While  this  same  sink  of  sensuality  swells. 
Who  would  live  sinking  in  it,  and  not  spring 
Up  to  the  stars,  and  leave  this  carrion  here 
For  wolves  and  vultures,  and  for  dogs  to  tear  ? 
O  Clermont  d'Ambois,  werfc  thou  here  to  chide  ao 

This  softness  from  my  flesh,  far  as  my  reason. 


140     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS      [Act  V 

Fax  as  my  resolution  not  to  stir 

One  foot  out  of  the  way,  for  death  and  hell ! 

Let  my  false  man  by  falsehood  perish  here ; 

There's  no  way  else  to  set  my  true  man  clear.  25 

Enter  Messenger 

Mes,    The  King  desires  your  Grace  to  come  to  Council. 

Guise.    I  come.     It  cannot  be :    he  will  not  dare 
To  touch  me  with  a  treachery  so  profane. 
Would  Clermont  now  were  here,  to  try  how  he 
Would  lay  about  him,  if  this  plot  should  be :  30 

Here  would  be  tossing  souls  into  the  sky. 
Who  ever  knew  blood  sav'd  by  treachery  ? 
Well,  I  must  on,  and  will ;    what  should  I  fear  ? 
Not  against  two  Alcides  ?  Against  two. 
And  Hercules  to  friend,  the  Guise  will  go.  35 

He  takes  up  the  arras,  and  the  Guard  enters  upon  him :  he  draws 

Hold,  murtherers  I    So  then,  this  is  confidence 

They  strike  him  down 
In  greatness,  not  in  goodness :    where  is  the  King  ? 

The  King  comes  in  sight  with  Epemon,  Soissons,  and  others 

Let  him  appear  to  justify  his  deed 

In  spite  of  my  betiay'd  wotmds,  ere  my  soul 

Take  her  flight  through  them,  and  my  tongue  hath  strength        40 

To  urge  his  tyrsamy. 

Hen.  See,  sir,  I  am  come 

To  justify  it  before  men,  and  God, 
Who  knows  with  what  wounds  in  my  heart  for  woe 
Of  your  so  wounded  faith  I  made  these  wounds, 
Forc'd  to  it  by  an  insolence  of  force  45 

To  stir  a  stone  ;  nor  is  a  rock,  oppos'd 
To  all  the  biUows  of  the  churlish  sea. 
More  beat  and  eaten  with  them  than  was  I 
With  your  ambitious  mad  idolatry  ; 

And  this  blood  I  shed  is  to  save  the  blood  50 

Of  many  thousands. 

Guise.  That's  your  white  pretext. 

But  you  will  find  one  drop  of  blood  shed  lawless 
WiU  be  the  fountain  to  a  purple  sea: 
The  present  lust  and  shift  made  for  kings'  lives 
Against  the  pure  fonn  and  just  power  of  law»  55 


Sc  4]       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       141 

VW,  thrive  like  shifters'  purchases;   there  hangs 

A  black  star  in  the  skies,  to  which  the  sun 

Gives  yet  no  light,  will  rain  a  poison'd  shower 

Into  your  entrails,  that  will  make  you  feel 

How  little  safety  lies  in  treacherous  steel.  60 

H&n,    Well,  sir,  I'll  bear  it ;    y'  have  a  brother  too, 
Bursts  with  like  threats,  the  scarlet  Cardinal : 
Seek,  and  lay  hands  on  him ;    and  take  this  hence. 
Their  bloods,  for  all  you,  on  my  conscience.  Exit 

Guise.    So,  sir,  your  full  swinge  take  ;    mine,  death   hath 
curb'd.  65 

Clermont,  farewell,  O  didst  thou  see  but  this  1 
But  it  is  better;   see  by  this  the  ice 
Broke  to  thine  own  blood,  which  thou  wilt  despise. 
When  thou  hear'st  mine  shed.    Is  there  no  friend  here 
Will  bear  my  love  to  him  ? 

Aum.  I  will,  my  lord.  70 

Guise.    Thanks  with  my  last  breath :  recommend  me,  then. 
To  the  most  worthy  of  the  race  of  men. 

Dies.    Exeunt  [the  guard  with  the  body] 


[SCENA  QUINTA 

A  Room  in  Montsurry's  House] 
Enter  Montsurry  and  Tamyra 

Mont.    Who  have  you  let  into  my  house  ? 

Tom.  I  ?  None. 

Mont.    'Tis  false ;    I  savour  the  rank  blood  of  foes 
In  every  comer. 

Tiun.  That  you  may  do  well. 

It  is  the  blood  you  lately  shed  you  smell. 

Mont.    'Sdeath,  the  vault  opes.  The  gulf  opens 

Tom.  What  vault  ?     Hold  your  sword.       5 

Clermont  ascends 

Cler.    No,  let  him  use  it. 

Mont.  Treason,  murther,  murther  1 

Cler.    Exclaim  not;    'tis  in  vain,  and  base  in  you. 
Being  one  to  only  one. 

Mont.  O  bloody  strumpet  I 

Cler.    With  what  blood  charge  you  her  ?    It  may  be  mine 
As  well  as  yours;   there  shall  not  any  else  10 


142       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Act  V 

Enter  or  touch  you ;    I  confer  no  guards, 

Nor  imitate  the  murtherous  course  you  took ; 

But  single  here  will  have  my  former  challenge 

Now  answer'd  single ;   not  a  minute  more 

My  brother's  blood  shall  stay  for  his  revenge,  15 

If  I  can  act  it ;    if  not,  mine  shall  add 

A  double  conquest  to  you,  that  alone 

Put  it  to  fortune  now,  and  use  no  odds. 

Storm  not,  nor  beat  yourseli  thus  'gainst  the  doors, 

Like  to  a  savage  vermin  in  a  trap ;  20 

All  doors  are  sure  made,  and  you  cannot  scape 

But  by  your  valour. 

Mont.  No,  no;    come  and  kill  me. 

[Throws  himself  down] 

Cler.    If  you  will  die  so  like  a  beast,  you  shall ; 
But  when  the  spirit  of  a  man  may  save  you. 
Do  not  so  shame  man,  and  a  nobleman.  25 

Mont.    1  do  not  show  this  baseness  that  I  fear  thee. 
But  to  prevent  and  shame  thy  victory. 
Which  of  one  base  is  base,  and  so  I'll  die. 

Cl&r,    Here,  then.  [Offers  to  kill  Montsurry] 

Mont,  Stay,  hold  I  One  thought  hath  hardened  me ; 

He  starts  up 
And  since  I  must  afford  thee  victory,  30 

It  shall  be  great  and  brave,  if  one  request 
Thou  wilt  admit  me. 

Cler,  What's  that  ? 

Mont.  Give  me  leave 

To  fetch  and  use  the  sword  thy  brother  gave  me 
When  he  was  bravely  giving  up  his  life. 

Cler.    No,  I'll  not  fight  against  my  brother's  sword  ;  35 

Not  that  I  fear  it,  but  since  'tis  a  trick 
For  you  to  show  your  back. 

Mont.  By  all  truth,  no  : 

Take  but  my  honourable  oath,  I  will  not. 

Cler.    Your  honourable  oath  !    Plain  truth  no  place  has 
Where  oaths  are  honourable. 

Tarn.  Trust  not  his  oath.       40 

He  will  lie  like  a  lapwing ;    when  she  flies 
Far  from  her  sought  nest,  still  *  Here  'tis ',  she  cries. 

Mont.    Out  on  thee,  dam  of  devils!  I  will  quite 
Disgrace  thy  brave[r'lls  conquest,  die,  not  fight.     Lies  down 

Tom.    Out  on  my  fortune,  to  wed  such  an  abject  I  45 


Sc.  5]    THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         143 

Now  is  the  people's  voice  the  voice  of  God ; 
He  that  to  wound  a  woman  vaunts  so  much 
(As  he  did  me),  a  man  dares  never  touch. 

CUr.    Revenge  your  wounds  now,  madam  ;  I  resign  him 
Up  to  3rour  fuU  will,  since  he  will  not  fight.  50 

First  you  shall  torture  him  (as  he  did  you. 
And  Justice  vrills),  and  then  pay  I  my  vow. 
Here,  take  this  poniard. 

Mont.  Sink  earth,  open  heaven, 

And  let  fall  vengeance ! 

Tom.  Come,  sir;    good  sir,  hold  him. 

Mont.    O,  shame  of  women,  whither  art  thou  fled  1  55 

Chr.    Why  (good  my  lord).  Is  it  a  greater  shame 
For  her  than  you  ?    Come,  I  will  be  the  bands 
You  us'd  to  her,  profaning  her  fair  hands. 

Mont    No,  sir;    I'll  fight  now,  and  the  terror  be 
Of  all  you  champions  to  such  as  she.  60 

I  did  but  thus  far  dally :    now  observe. 
O  all  you  aching  foreheads  that  have  robb'd 
Your  hands  of  weapons  and  your  hearts  of  valour. 
Join  in  me  all  your  rages  and  rebutters. 
And  into  dust  ram  this  same  race  of  furies ;  65 

In  this  one  relic  of  the  [D']Ambois  gall, 
In  his  one  purple  soul  shed,  drown  it  all.  Fight 

Now  give  me  breath  a  while. 

Cler.  Receive  it  freely. 

Mont.     What  think  y'o'  this  now  ? 

CUr,  It  is  very  noble. 

Had  it  been  free,  at  least,  and  of  yourself ;  70 

And  thus  we  see  (where  valour  most  doth  vaimt) 
What  'tis  to  make  a  coward  valiant. 

Mont,     Now  I  shall  grace  your  conquest. 

Cl&r,  That  you  shall. 

Mont.     If  you  obtain  it. 

Oler,  True,  sir,  'tis  in  fortune. 

Mont.    If  you  were  not  a  D'Ambois,  I  would  scarce     75 
Change  lives  with  you,  I  feel  so  great  a  change 
In  my  tall  spirits ;    breath'd,  I  think,  with  the  breath 
A  D'Ambois  breathes  here ;    and  Necessity 
(With  whose  point  now  prick'd  on,  and  so,  whose  help 
My  hands  may  challenge),  that  doth  all  men  conquer,  80 

If  she  except  not  you  of  all  men  only, 
Biay  change  the  case  here. 


144    THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS        [Act  V 

Cler,  True,  as  you  are  chang'd ; 

Her  power,  in  me  urg'd,  makes  y'aaother  man 
Than  yet  you  ever  were. 

Mont,  Well,  I  must  on. 

Cler.    Your  lordship  must  by  all  means. 

Mont,  Then  at  all.       85 

Fights,  and  D'Ambois  hurts  him 

[Entev  Rend,  the  Countess  and\  Charlotte  above 

Char,    Death  of  my  father,  what  a  shame  is  this ! 
Stick  in  his  hands  thus  ? 

Ren,  [trying  to  stop  her].  Gentle  sir,  forbear. 

Count.    Is  he  not  slain  yet  ?  [Charlotte]  gets  down 

Ren.  No,  madam,  but  hurt 

In  divers  parts  of  him. 

Mont.  Y'have  given  it  me. 

And  yet  I  feel  life  for  another  veney.  90 

Enter  Charlotte  [below] 

Cler.    [To  Chariotte]    What  would  you,  sir  ? 

Char.  I  would  perform  this  combat. 

Cler.    Against  which  of  us  ? 

Chair.  I  care  not  much  if  'twere 

Against  thj^elf :    thy  sister  would  have  sham'd 
To  have  thy  brother's  wreak  with  any  man 
In  single  combat  stick  so  in  her  fingers.  95 

Cler,    My  sister  ?     Know  you  her  ? 

Tarn.  Ay,  sir,  she  sent  him 

With  this  kind  letter  to  perform  the  wreak 
Of  my  dear  servant.  ^^ 

Cler,  Now,  alas,  good  sir  1 

Think  you  you  could  do  more  ? 

Char.  Alas  ;  I  do  1 

And  wer't  not  I,  fresh,  sound,  should  charge  a  man  100 

Weary  and  wounded,  I  would  long  ere  this 
Have  prov'd  what  I  presume  on. 

Cler.  Y'have  a  mind 

like  to  my  sister,  but  have  patience  now ; 
If  next  charge  speed  not,  I'll  resign  to  you. 

Mont.    [To  Qermont]    Pray  thee,  let  him  decide  it. 

Cler.  No,  my  lord,     105 

I  am  the  man  in  fate,  and  since  so  bravely 


1 


Sc.  5]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         145 

Yoar  lordflhip  stands  me,  scape  but  one  more  charge. 
And,  on  my  life,  I'll  set  your  life  at  large. 

Mont.    Said  Kke  a  D'Ambois.  and  if  now  I  die. 
Sit  joy  and  all  good  on  thy  victory  1     Fights  and  falls  down  no 
Farewell,  I  heartily  forgive  thee ;    wife. 
And  thee ;    let  penitence  spend  thy  rest  of  life. 

He  gives  his  hand  to  Clermont  and  his  wife 

Cler,    Noble  and  Christian  ! 

Tom.  O.  it  breaks  my  heart  I 

Cler.    And  should ;    for  all  faults  found  in  him  before. 
These  words,  this  end,  makes  full  amends  and  more.  115 

Rest,  worthy  soul ;    and  with  it  the  dear  spirit 
Of  my  lov'd  brother  rest  in  endless  peace  1 
Soft  Ue  thy  bones.  Heaven  be  your  soul's  abode. 
And  to  your  ashes  be  the  earth  no  load ! 

Music,  and  the  Ghost  of  Bussy  enters,  leading  the  Ghosts  of  the 
Guise,  Monsieur,  Cardinal  Guise,  and  Chatillon ;  they 
dance  about  the  dead  body,  and  exeunt, 

Cler,    How  strange  is  this  !  The  Guise  amongst  these  spirits,  120 
And  his  great  brother  Cardinal,  both  yet  living  1 
And  that  the  rest  with  them  with  joy  thus  celebrate 
This  our  revenge  I    This  certainly  presages 
Some  instant  des^ih  both  to  the  Guise  and  Cardinal. 
That  the  Chatillon's  ghost  too  should  thus  join  125 

In  celebration  of  this  just  revenge, 
'With  Guise,  that  bore  a  chief  stroke  in  his  death. 
It  seems  that  now  he  doth  approve  the  act, 
And  these  true  shadows  of  the  Guise  and  Cardinal, 
Fore-running  thus  their  bodies,  may  approve  130 

That  all  things  to  be  done,  as  here  we  live. 
Are  done  before  all  times  in  th'  other  life. 
That  spirits  should  rise  in  these  times  yet  are  fables ; 
Though  leamed'st  men  hold  that  our  sensive  spirits 
A  little  time  abide  about  the  graves  135 

Of  their  deceased  bodies,  and  can  take 
In  cold  condens'd  air  the  same  forms  they  had 
When  they  were  shut  up  in  this  body's  shade. 

Enter  Aumale 

Aum.    O  sir,  the  Guise  »  slain  I 

Cler.  Avert^t,  heaven  I 

CD.W.  L 


146      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       [Act  V 

Aum.     Sent  for  to  Council,  by  the  King,  an  ambush        140 
(Lodg'd  for  the  purpose)  rush'd  on  him,  and  took 
His  princely  life ;    who  sent  (in  dying  then) 
His  love  to  you,  as  to  the  best  of  men. 

CUr,    The  worst,  and  most  accursed  of  things  creeping 
On  earth's  sad  bosom.     Let  me  pray  ye  all  145 

A  little  to  forbear,  and  let  me  use 
Freely  mine  own  mind  in  lamenting  him. 
I'll  call  ye  straight  again. 

Aum,  We  will  forbear. 

And  leave  you  free,  sir.  Exeunt 

Cler,  Shall  I  live,  and  he 

Dead,  that  alone  gave  means  of  life  to  me  ?  150 

There's  no  disputing  with  the  acts  of  kings. 
Revenge  is  impious  on  their  sacred  persons : 
And  could  I  play  the  worldling  (no  man  loving 
Longer  than  gain  is  reap'd,  or  grace  from  him) 
I  should  survive,  and  shall  be  wonder'd  at  155 

Though  (in  mine  own  hands  being)  I  end  with  him  : 
But  friendship  is  the  cement  of  two  minds. 
As  of  one  man  the  soul  and  body  is, 
Of  which  one  cannot  sever,  but  the  other 
Suffers  a  needful  separation.  160 

Ren.     I  fear  your  servant,  madam,  let's  descend. 

Descend  Renel  and  Countess 

Cler.     Since  I  could  skill  of  man,  I  never  liv'd 
To  please  men  worldly,  and  shall  I  in  death, 
Respect  their  pleasures,  making  such  a  jar 
Betwixt  my  death  and  life,  when  death  should  make  165 

The  consort  sweetest,  th'  end  being  proof  and  crown 
To  all  the  skill  and  worth  we  truly  own  ? 
Guise,  O  my  lord,  how  shall  I  ca^t  from  me 
The  bands  and  coverts  hind'ring  me  from  thee  ? 
The  garment  or  the  cover  of  the  mind,  170 

The  human  soul  is ;    of  the  soul,  the  spirit 
The  proper  robe  is ;    of  the  spirit,  the  blood ; 
And  of  the  blood,  the  body  is  the  shroud. 
With  that  must  I  begin  then  to  unclothe. 
And  come  at  th'  other.     Now,  then,  as  a  ship,  175 

Touching  at  strange  and  far-removed  shores. 
Her  men  ashore  go,  for  their  several  ends» 
Fresh  water,  victuals,  precious  stones,  and  pearl. 
All  yet  intentive  (when  the  master  calls. 


Sc.  5]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         147 

The  ship  to  put  off  ready)  to  leave  all  180 

Their  greediest  labours,  lest  they  there  be  left 

To  thieves  or  beasts,  or  be  the  country's  slaves : 

So,  now  my  master  palls,  my  ship,  my  venture. 

All  in  one  bottom  put,  all  quite  put  o£E, 

Gone  under  sail,  and  I  left  negligent,  185 

To  all  the  horrors  of  the  vicious  time. 

The  far-remov'd  shores  to  all  virtuous  aims, 

None  favouring  goodness,  none  but  he  respecting 

Piety  or  manhood-— shall  I  here  survive, 

Not  cast  me  after  him  into  the  sea,  190 

Rather  than  here  live,  ready  every  hour 

To  feed  thieves,  beasts,  and  be  the  slave  of  power  ? 

I  come,  my  lord  1    Qermont,  thy  creature,  comes. 

He  kills  himself 

Enter  Aumale,  Tamyra,  Charlotte 

Aum.    What,  lie  and  languish,  Qermont  ?    Cursed  man. 
To  leave  him  here  thus !  He  hath  slain  himself.  195 

Tom,    Misery  on  misery  1    O  me,  wretched  dame 
Of  all  that  breathe  I  All  heaven  turn  all  his  eyes 
In  hearty  envy  thus  on  one  poor  dame ! 

Char.     Well  done,  my  brother  t  I  did  love  thee  ever, 
But  now  adore  thee  :   loss  of  such  a  friend  200 

None  should  survive,  of  such  a  brother  [none] ; 
With  my  false  husband  live,  and  both  these  slain  I 
Ere  I  return  to  him,  111  turn  to  earth. 

Enter  Rend,  leading  the  Countess 

Ren,    Horror  of  human  eyes  1    O  Qermont  d'Ambois  1 
Madam,  we  stay'd  too  long ;   your  servant's  slain.  205 

Count.    It  must  be  so ;    he  liVd  but  in  the  Guise, 
As  I  in  him.    O  foUow,  life,  mine  eyes  1 

Tom.    Hide,  hide  thy  snaky  head  1  To  cloisters  fly. 
In  penance  pine  1  Too  easy  'tis  to  die. 

Ch€U^.    It  is.    In  cloisters,  then,  let's  all  survive.  210 

Bfadam,  since  wrath  nor  grief  can  help  these  fortunes. 
Let  us  forsake  the  world  in  which  they  reign, 
And  for  their  wish'd  amends  to  God  complain. 

Count.    Tis  fit  and  only  needful :   lead  me  on. 
In  heaven's  course  comfort  seek,  in  earth  Is  none.  215 

E0eunt 


148     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D' AMBOIS       [Act  V 

Enter  Henry,  Epemon,  SoissoQ9,  and  others 

Hen,    We  came  indeed  too  late,  which  much  I  me. 
And  would  have  kept  this  Clermont  as  my  crown. 
Take  in  the  dead,  and  make  this  fatal  room 
(The  house  shut  up)  the  famous  D'Ambois  tomb. 

Exeunt  [with  the  bodies] 

FINIS 


THE     CONSPIRACY    AND     TRAGEDY 

OF 
CHARLES   DUKE  OF  BYRON 


The  Conspiracy  and  Tragedy 

of 
Charles  Duke  of  Byron 

TO 

MY  HONOURABLE  AND  CONSTANT  FRIEND, 

SIR  THO:   WALSINGHAM,  KNIGHT; 

AND   TO 

MY  MUCH  LOVED  FROM  HIS  BIRTH,  THE  RIGHT 
TOWARD   AND  WORTHY  GENTLEMAN  HIS  SON, 

THOMAS  WALSINGHAM,  ESQUIRE 

Sir,  Though  I  know  you  ever  stood  little  affected  to  these 
unprofitable  rites  of  Dedication  (which  disposition  in  you  hath 
made  me  hitherto  dispense  with  your  right  in  my  other  impres- 
sions), yet,  lest  the  world  may  repute  it  a  neglect  in  me  of  so  ancient 
and  worthy  a  friend,  having  heard  your  approbation  of  these  in 
their  presentment,  I  could  not  but  prescribe  them  with  your 
name ;  and  that  my  afFection  may  ^rtend  to  your  posterity,  I 
have  entitled  to  it,  herein,  your  hope  and  comfort  in  your  generous 
son  ;  whom  I  doubt  not  that  most  reverenced  Mother  of  manly 
sciences,  to  whose  instruction  your  virtuous  care  commits  him, 
will  so  profitably  initiate  in  her  learned  labours,  that  they  will 
make  him  flourish  in  his  riper  life  over  the  idle  lives  of  our  ignorant 
gentlemen,  and  enable  him  to  supply  the  honourable  places  of 
your  name ;  extending  your  years  and  his  right  noble  mother's, 
in  the  true  comforts  of  his  virtues,  to  the  sight  of  much  and  most 

15t 


152 

happy  progeny  ;  which  most  afiEectioiiately  wishing,  and  dividing 
these  poor  dismembered  poems  betwixt  yoa,  I  desire  to  live  still 
in  your  graceful  loves*  and  ever 

The  most  assured  at  your  commandments, 

GEORGE  CHAPMAN 


PROLOGUS 

When  the  uncivil  civil  wars  of  FtanCe 

Had  ponr'd  upon  the  country's  beaten  breast 

Her  batter'd  dties,  press'd  her  under  hills 

Of  slaughtered  carcasses,  set  her  in  the  mouths 

Of  murtherous  breaches,  and  made  pale  Despair,  5 

Leave  her  to  Ruin,  through  them  all,  Byron 

Stepp'd  to  her  rescue,  took  her  by  the  hand ; 

Pluck'd  her  from  under  her  unnatural  press. 

And  set  her  shining  in  the  height  of  peace. 

And  now  new  deans'd  from  dust,  from  sweat,  and  blood,         lo 

And  dignified  with  title  of  a  Duke, 

As  when  in  wealthy  Autumn  his  bright  star 

Wash'd  in  the  lofty  ocean,  thence  ariseth, 

Illustrates  heaven,  and  all  his  other  fires 

Out-€hines  and  darkens,  so  admired  Byron  15 

All  France  exempted  from  comparison. 

He  touch'd  heaven  with  his  lance,  nor  yet  was  touch'd 

With  hellish  treachery ;    his  country's  love 

He  yet  thirsts,  not  the  fair  shades  of  himself ; 

Of  which  empoison'd  spring  when  Pohcy  drinks,  20 

He  bursts  in  growing  great,  and,  rising,  siaJta : 

Which  now  behold  in  our  conspirator, 

And  see  in  his  revolt  how  honour's  flood 

Ebbs  into  air,  when  men  are  great,  not  good. 


itt 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 


Henry  IV,  King  of  France. 

Albert,  Archduke  of  Austria. 

The  Duhe  of  Savoy 

The  Duhe  of  Byron 

D'Anvergne,  a  friend  of  Byron 

NemouTB, 

Soissont, 

D'Aumont,  SJ^rench  Noblemen 

Creqni, 

Hpemon, 

Bellidvre,  \  French        Commis- 

Bmlart,    )   sioners  at  Brussels 

D'Aumale,   a  French  exile  ai 

Brussels 
Picot6,    a   Frenchman   in   the 

Spanish  service  at  Brussels 


Orange,      \     Noblemen  in  the 


,.} 


Mansfield,  )   Archduke's  Court 
Roiseau,    a  French  gentleman 

attending  the  Embassy 
La  Fin,  a  ruined  French  noble 
Roncas,     the    Ambassador    of 

Savoy  at  Paris 
Rochette,  \  Lords  attending  the 
Breton,       )    Duke  of  Savoy 
Vitry,  Captain  of  the  Guard 
Janin,  a  French  minister 
La  Brosse,  an  astrologer 

Three    Ladies    at    the    French 
Court 


IM 


ACTUS    I     SCENA   I 
[Paris.    A  Room  in  the  Coari] 

Enter  Savoy,  Roncas,  Rochette,  Breton 

Sac'.    I  would  not  for  hall  Savoy  bat  have  bound 
France  to.  some  favour  by  my  personal  presence 
More  than  yonr  self,  my  Lord  Ambassador, 
Conld  have  obtain'd ;    for  all  ambassadors. 
Ton  know,  have  chiefly  these  instructions :  5 

To  note  the  state  and  chief  sway  of  the  Court 
To  which  they  are  employ'd ;   to  penetrate 
The  heart  and  marrow  of  the  King's  designs. 
And  to  observe  the  countenances  and  spirits  c 

Of  such  as  are  impatient  of  rest,  xo 

And  wring  beneath  some  private  discontent : 
But,  past  all  these,  there  are  a  number  more 
Of  these  state  criticisms  that  our  personal  view 
May  profitably  make,  which  cannot  fall 

Vi^tfain  the  powers  of  our  instruction  15 

To  make  you  comprehend ;   I  will  do  more 
¥^th  my  mere  shadow  than  you  with  your  persons. 
All  you  can  say  against  my  coming  here 
Is  that,  which  I  confess,  may  for  the  time 
Breed  strange  affections  in  my  brother  Spain ;  20 

But  when  I  shall  have  time  to  make  my  cannons 
The  long-tongued  heralds  of  my  hidden  drifts. 
Our  reconcilement  will  be  made  with  triumphs. 

Ron.    If  not,  your  Highness  hath  small  cause  to  care, 
Having  such  worthy  reason  to  complain  25 

Of  Spain's  cold  friendship  and  his  ling'ring  succours. 
Who  only  entertains  your  griefs  with  hope 
To  make  your  med'dne  desperate. 

Rock.  My  lord  knows 

The  Sponiah  gloss  too  well ;  his  form,  stnfE,  lasting. 


J  V. 


156  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  I 

And  the  most  dangerous  conditioDS  3^ 

He  lays  on  them  with  whom  he  is  hi  league. 

Th'  injustice  in  the  most  unequal  dower 

Given  with  th'  In&mta,  whom  my  lord  espoua'd, 

Compar'd  with  that  her  elder  sister  had. 

May  tell  him  how  much  Spain's  love  weighs  to  him*  35 

When  of  so  many  globes  and  sceptres  held 

By  the  great  King,  he  only  would  bestow 

A  portion  but  of  six-score  thousand  crowns 

In  yearly  pension  with  his  Highness'  wife. 

When  the  Infanta,  wedded  by  the  Archduke,  40 

Had  the  Franche-Comt6,  and  Low  Provinces. 

Bret,    We  should  not  set  these  passages  of  spleen 
'Twixt  Spain  and  Savoy :    to  the  weaker  part 
More  good  by  sufi'rance  grows  than  deeds  oi  heart; 
The  nearer  princes  are,  the  further  ofE  45 

In  rites  of  ^endship ;    my  advice  had  never 
Consented  to  this  voyage  of  my  lord. 
In  which  he  doth  endanger  Spain's  whole  loss. 
For  hope  of  some  poor  fragment  here  in  France. 

Sav,    My  hope  in  France  you  knOw  not,   though  my 
counsel ;  -  50 

And  for  my  loss  of  Spain,  it  is  agreed 
That  I  should  slight  it ;    oft-times  princes'  rules 
Are  like  the  chymical  philosophers' ; 
Leave  me  then  to  mine  own  projection 

In  this  our  thrifty  alchemy  of  state ;  55 

Yet  help  me  thus  far,  you  that  have  been  here 
Our  Lord  Ambassador,  and  in  short  inform  me 
What  spirits  here  are  fit  for  our  designs. 

Ron,    The  new-created  Duke  Byron  is  fit. 
Were  there  no  other  reason  for  your  presence,  ^60 

To  make  it  worthy  ;   for  he  is  a  man  ,-   }. 

Of  matchless  valour,  and  was  ever  happy 
In  all  encounteiB,  which  were  still  made  good 
With  an  unwearied  sense  of  any  toil,  ^     ; 

Having  continued  fourteen  days  together  '   rV        ^5 

Upon  his  horse ;    his  blood  is  not  voluptuous, 
Nor  much  inclined  to  women ;    his  desires 
Are  higher  than  his  state,  and  his  deserts 
Not  much  short  of  the  most  he  can  desire.  "^^ 

If  they  be  weigh'd  with  what  France  feels  by  them : 
He  is  past  measure  glorious ;    and  that  humour  *jo 


Sc  I]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  157 

Is  fit  to  feed  his  spirits,  whom  it  possesseth, 

VTlth  faith  in  any  error,  chiefly  where 

Men  blow  it  up  with  praise  of  his  perf ections ; 

The  taste  whereof  in  him  so  soothes  his  palate,  75 

And  takes  np  all  his  appetite,  that  oft-times 

He  will  refuse  his  meat  and  company 

To  feast  alone  with  their  most  strong  conceit ; 

Ambition  also  cheek  by  cheek  doth  march 

With  that  excess  of  glory,  both  snstain'd  80 

With  an  unlimited  fancy  that  the  King, 

Nor  France  itself,  without  him  can  subsist. 

Sav,    He  is  the  man,  my  lord,  I  come  to  win ; 
And  that  supreme  intention  of  my  presence 
Saw  never  light  till  now,  which,  yet  I  fear,  85 

The  politic  King  suspecting,  is  the  cause. 
That  he  hath  sent  him  so  far  from  my  reach, 
And  made  him  chief  in  the  commission 
Of  his  ambassage  to  my  brother  Archduke, 
With  whom  he  is  now ;    and,  as  I  am  told,  90 

So  entertain'd  and  fitted  in  his  humour, 
That  ere  I  part,  I  hope  he  will  return 
Prepared  and  made  the  more  fit  for  the  physic 
That  I  intend  to  minister. 

Ron.  My  lord. 

There  is  another  discontented  spirit  95 

Now  here  in  Court,  that  for  his  brain  and  aptness 
To  any  course  that  may  recover  him 
In  his  declined  and  litigious  state 
'Wm  serve  Byron,  as  he  were  made  for  him. 
In  giving  vent  to  his  ambitious  vein,  100 

And  that  is,  de  La  Fin. 

Sav.  You  tell  me  true, 

And  him  I  think  you  have  prepar'd  for  me. 

RoH,    I  have,  my  lord,  and  doubt  not  he  will  prove 
Of  the  3ret  taintless  fortress  of  Byron 
A  quick  expugner,  and  a  strong  abider.  105 

Sav,    Perhaps  the  batt'ry  will  be  brought  before  him 
In  this  ambassage,  for  I  am  assur'd 
They  set  high  price  of  him,  and  are  informed 
Of  all  the  passages,  and  means  for  mines 
That  may  be  thought  on  to  his  taking  in.  no 


158  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  I 

Enter  Henry  €md  La  Fin 

The  King  comes,  and  La  Fin ;    the  King's  aspect 
Folded  in  clouds. 

Hen.  I  will  not  have  my  train 

Made  a  retreat  for  bankrouts,  nor  my  Court 
A  hive  for  drones :    proud  beggars  and  true  thieves. 
That  with  a  forced  truth  they  swear  to  me  115 

Rob  my  poor  subjects,  shall  give  up  their  arts, 
And  henceforth  learn  to  live  by  their  deserts ; 
Though  I  am  grown,  by  right  of  birth  and  arms. 
Into  a  greater  kingdom,  I  will  spread 

Vfith  no  more  shade  than  may  admit  that  kingdom  120 

Her  proper,  natural,  and  wonted  fruits ; 
Navarre  shall  be  Navarre,  and  France  still  France : 
If  one  may  be  the  better  for  the  other 
By  mutual  rites,  so ;   neither  shall  be  worse. 
Thou  art  in  law,  in  quarrels,  and  in  debt,  125 

Which  thou  would'st  quit  with  count'nance ;    borrowing 
With  thee  is  purchase,  and  thou  seek'st  by  me, 
In  my  supportance,  now  our  old  wars  cease, 
To  wage  worse  battles  with  the  arms  of  peace. 

La  F,    Peace  must  not  make  men  cowards,  nor  keep  calm  130 
Her  pursy  regiment  with  men's  smother'd  breaths ; 
I  must  confess  my  fortunes  are  declin'd, 
But  neither  my  deservings  nor  my  mind  : 
I  seek  but  to  sustain  the  right  I  found 

When  I  was  rich,  in  keeping  what  is  left,  135 

And  making  good  my  honour  as  at  best. 
Though  it  be  hard ;    man's  right  to  everything 
Wanes  with  his  wealth,  wealth  is  his  surest  king; 
Yet  Justice  should  be  still  indifferent. 

The  overplus  of  kings,  in  all  their  might,  140 

Is  but  to  piece  out  the  defects  of  right : 
And  this  I  sue  for,  nor  shall  frowns  and  taunts 
(The  common  scare-crows  of  all  poor  men's  suits) 
Nor  misconstruction  that  doth  colour  still 
Licentiate  justice,  punishing  good  for  ill,  145 

Keep  my  free  throat  from  knocking  at  Ihe  sky. 
If  thunder  chid  me,  for  my  equity. 

Hen.    Thy  equity  is  to  be  ever  banish'd  ' 

Ftom  Court  and  all  society  of  noblesse. 
Amongst  whom  thou  throw'st  balls  of  all  dissension ;  150 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  159 

Thou  art  at  peace  with  nothing  but  with  war, 

Hast  no  heart  but  to  hurt,  and  eat'st  thy  heart. 

If  it  but  think  of  doing  any  good  : 

Thou  witchest  with  thy  smiles,  suck'st  blood  with  praises, 

Mock'st  all  humanity  ;    society  poison'st,  155 

Cozen'st  with  virtue ;    with  religion 

Betray'st  and  massacrest;    so  vile  thyself, 

That  thou  suspect'st  peiiection  in  others  : 

A  man  must  think  of  all  the  villanies 

He  knows  in  all  men  to  decipher  thee,  160 

That  art  the  centre  to  impiety : 

Away,  and  tempt  me  not. 

La  F,  But  you  tempt  me. 

To  what,  thou.  Sun,  be  judge,  and  make  him  see.        Exit 

Sav,    Now  by  my  dearest  Marquisate  of  Saluces, 
Your  Majesty  hath  with  the  greatest  life  165 

Describ'd  a  wicked  man,  or  rather  thrust 
Your  arm  down  through  him  to  his  very  feet 
And  pluck'd  his  inside  out,  that  ever  yet 
My  ears  did  witness,  or  tum'd  ears  to  eyes ; 
And  those  strange  characters,  writ  in  his  face,  170 

Which  at  first  sight  were  hard  for  me  to  read. 
The  doctrine  of  your  speech  hath  made  so  plain 
That  I  run  through  them  like  my  natural  language : 
Nor  do  I  like  that  man's  aspect,  methinks. 
Of  aU  looks  where  the  beams  of  stars  have  carv'd  175 

Their  powerful  influences ;    and  (O  rare) 
What  an  heroic,  more  than  royal  spirit 
Bewray'd  you  in  your  first  speech,  that  defies 
Protection  of  vile  drones  that  eat  the  honey 
Sweat  from  laborious  virtue,  and  denies  180 

To  give  those  of  Navarre,  though  bred  with  yon, 
The  benefits  and  dignities  of  France. 
When  little  rivers  by  their  greedy  currents 
(Far  far  extended  from  their  mother  springs) 
Drink  up  the  foreign  brooks  still  as  they  run,  185 

And  force  their  greatness,  when  they  come  to  sea, 
And  justle  with  the  Ocean  for  a  room, 
O  how  he  roars,  and  takes  them  in  his  mouth. 
Digesting  them  so  to  his  proper  streams 
That  they  are  no  more  seen,  he  nothing  rais'd  190 

Above  his  usual  bounds,  yet  they  devour'd 
That  of  themselves  were  pleasant,  goodly  floods. 


i6o  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  I 

Hen,    I  would  do  best  for  both,  yet  shall  not  be  secure, 
Till  in  some  absolute  heirs  my  crown  be  settled ; 
There  is  so  little  now  betwixt  aspirers  195 

And  their  great  object  in  my  only  self. 
That  all  the  strength  they  gather  under  me 
Tempts  combat  with  mine  own :   I  therefore  make 
Means  for  some  issue  by  my  marriage. 

Which  with  the  Great  Duke's  niece  is  now  concluded,         200 
And  she  is  coming;    I  have  trust  in  heaven 
I  am  not  yet  so  old,  but  I  may  spring. 
And  then  I  hope  all  trait'rous  hopes  will  fade. 

Sou.    Else  may  their  whole  estates  fly,  rooted  up. 
To  ignominy  and  oblivion  :  205 

And  (being  your  ];ieighbour,  servant,  and  poor  kinsman) 
I  wish  your  mighty  race  might  multiply. 
Even  to  the  period  of  all  empery. 

Hen,    Thanks  to  my  princ^y  cousin  :    this  your  love 
And  h(Hiour  shown  me  in  your  personal  presence  210 

I  wish  to  welcome  to  your  full  content ; 
The  peace  now  made  with  your  brother  Archduke 
By  Duke  B3n:on,  our  Lord  Ambassador, 
I  wish  may  happily  extend  to  you. 
And  that  at  his  return  we  may  conclude  it.  215 

Sav,    It  shall  be  to  my  heart  the  happiest  day 
Of  all  my  life,  and  that  life  all  employ'd 
To  celebrate  the  honour  of  that  day.  Exeunt 

[SCENA   II 
Brussels.      A  Room  in  the  Archduke's  Court} 

Enter  Roiseau 

Rots,    The  wondrous  honour  done  our  Duke  B5m>n 
In  his  ambassage  here,  in  th'  Archduke's  court, 
I  fear  will  taint  his  loyalty  to  our  King ; 
I  will  observe  how  they  observe  his  humour 
And  glorify  his  valour,  and  how  he  5 

Accepts  and  stands  attractive  to  their  ends. 
That  so  I  may  not  seem  an  idle  spot 
In  train  of  this  ambassage,  but  return 
Able  to  give  our  King  some  note  of  all. 
Worth  my  attendance ;   and  see,  here's  the  man,  10 


Sc  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  i6i 

Who  (though  a  Frenchman  and  in  Orleans  bom. 

Serving  the  Archduke)  I  do  most  suspect, 

Is  set  to  be  the  tempter  of  our  Duke ; 

I'U  go  where  I  may  see,  although  not  hear.  [ReHrss] 

Enter  Picot6,  with  two  others,  spreading  a  carpet 

Pic.     Spread  here  this  history  of  Catiline,  15 

That  earth  may  seem  to  bring  forth  Roman  spirits 
Even  to  his  genial  feet,  and  her  dark  breast 
Be  made  the  clear  glass  of  his  shining  graces ; 
We'll  make  his  feet  so  tender  they  shall  g^l 
In  all  paths  but  to  empire  ;    and  therein  20 

I'll  make  the  sweet  st^  of  his  state  begin. 

Exit  [Picot6  with  Senrants] 

Lot4d  music,  and  enter  Byroa 

Byr.    What  place  is  this,  what  air,  what  region^ 
In  which  a  man  may  hear  the  harmony 
Of  all  things  moving  ?    Hymen  marries  here 
Their  ends  and  uses,  and  makes  me  his  temple.  25 

Hath  any  man  been  blessed,  and  yet  liv'd  ? 
The  blood  turns  in  my  veins;  I  stand  on  change. 
And  shaU  dissolve  in  changing;    'tis  so  full 
Of  pleasure  not  to  be  contain'd  in  flesh  t 
To  fear  a  violent  good  abuseth  goodness,  30 

'Tis  immortality  to  die  aspiring. 
As  if  a  man  were  taken  <^ck  to  heaven ; 
What  will  not  hold  perfection,  let  it  burst ; 
What  force  hath  any  cannon,  not  being  charg'd, 
Or  being  not  discharg'd  ?    To  have  stuff  and  form,  35 

And  to  lie  idle,  fearful,  and  unus'd. 
Nor  form  nor  stuff  shows ;    happy  Semdie, 
That  died  compiess'd  with  glory  1    Hafypineas 
Denies  comparison  of  less  or  more. 

And  not  at  most,  is  nothing :   like  the  shaft  40 

Shot  at  the  sun  by  angry  Hercules, 
And  into  shivers  by  the  thunder  broken. 
Will  I  be  if  I  burst ;    and  in  my  heart 
This  shall  be  written :    '  Yet  'twas  high  and  right '. 

MiAsic  again 
Here  too  ?   They  follow  all  my  steps  with  music  45 

As  if  my  feet  were  numerous,  and  trod  sounds 
Out  of  the  centre  with  Apollo's  virtue, 

CD.W.  **  It 


i62  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  I 

That  out  of  every  thing  his  each  part  touch'd 

Struck  musical  accents ;    wheresoever  I  go, 

They  hide  the  earth  from  me  with  coverings  rich,  50 

To  make  me  think  that  I  am  here  in  heaven. 

Enter  Picot6  in  haste 

Pic,    This  way,  your  Highness. 
Byr.  Come  they  ? 

Pic.  Ay,  my  lord  ! 

Exeunt 
Enter  the  other  Commissioners  of  France,  Bellidvre,  Brulart, 

[ttTi/A]  D'Anmale,  Orange 

Bel,    My  Lord  d'Aumale,  I  am  exceeding  sorry 
That  your  own  obstinacy  to  hold  out 

Your  mortal  enmity  against  the  King,  55 

When  Duke  du  Maine  and  all  the  faction  yielded. 
Should  force  his  wrath  to  use  the  lites  of  treason 
Upon  the  members  of  your  senseless  statue. 
Your  name  and  house,  when  he  had  lost  your  person, 
Your  love  and  duty. 

Bru.  That  which  men  enforce  60 

By  their  own  wilfulness,  they  must  endure 
With  willing  patience  and  without  complaint. 

D'Aum,    I  use  not  much  impatience  nor  complaint, 
Though  it  offends  me  much  to  have  my  name 
So  blotted  with  addition  of  a  traitor,  65 

And  my  whole  memory  with  such  despite 
Mark'd  and  begun  to  be  so  rooted  out. 

Bru,    It  was  despite  that  held  you  out  so  long. 
Whose  penance  in  the  King  was  needful  justice. 

Bel,    Come,  let  us  seek  our  Duke,  and  take  our  leaves  70 

Of  th'  Archduke's  grace.  Exeunt 

Enter  Byron  and  Picot6  [above] 

Byr,  Here  may  we  safely  breathe  ? 

Pic.    No  doubt,  my  lord  ;  no  stranger  knows  this  way  ; 
Only  the  Archduke,  and  your  friend,  Count  Mansfield, 
Perhaps  may  make  their  general  scapes  to  you 
To  utter  some  part  of  their  private  loves  75 

Ere  your  departure. 

Byr.  Then  I  well  perceive 

To  what  th'  intention  of  his  Highness  tends ; 
For  whose,  and  others,  here,  most  worthy  lords, 
I  will  become,  with  all  my  worth,  their  servant 


1 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  163 

• 

In  any  office  but  disloyalty  ;  So 

Bnt  that  hath  ever  show'd  so  foul  a  monster 

To  all  my  ancestors  and  my  former  life, 

That  now  to  entertain  it  I  must  wholly 

Give  up  my  habit  in  his  contrary. 

And  strive  to  grow  out  of  privation.  85 

Pic.    My  lord,  to  wear  your  loyal  habit  still, 
When  it  is  out  of  fashion,  and  hath  done 
Service  enough,  were  rustic  misery : 
The  habit  of  a  servile  lo3ralty 

Is  reckoned  now  amongst  privations,  90 

With  blindness,  dumbness,  deafness,  silence,  death ; 
All  which  are  neither  natures  by  themselves 
Nor  substances,  but  mere  decays  of  form. 
And  absolute  decessions  of  nature  ; 

And  so  'tis  nothing,  what  shall  you  then  lose  ?  95 

Your  Highness  hath  a  habit  in  perfection. 
And  in  desert  of  highest  dignities. 
Which  carve  yourself,  and  be  your  own  rewarder. 
No  true  power  doth  admit  privation 

Adverse  to  him  ;   or  suffers  any  fellow  100 

Join'd  in  his  subject ;  you  superiors. 
It  is  the  nature  of  things  absolute 
One  to  destroy  another ;    be  your  Highness 
Like  those  steep  hills  that  will  admit  no  clouds, 
No  dews,  nor  least  fumes  bound  about  their  brows,  105 

Because  their  tops  pierce  into  purest  air, 
Expert  of  humour;    or  like  air  itself 
That  quickly  changeth,  and  receives  the  sun 
Soon  as  he  riseth,  everywhere  dispersing 

His  royal  splendour,  girds  it  in  his  beams,  no 

And  makes  itself  the  body  of  the  light : 
Hot,  shining,  swift,  light,  and  aspiring  things. 
Are  of  immortal  and  celestial  nature ; 
Cold,  dark,  dull,  heavy,  of  infernal  fortunes 
And  never  aim  at  any  happiness :  115 

Your  Excellency  knows  liiat  simple  loyalty, 
Faith,  love,  sincerity,  are  but  words,  no  tilings. 
Merely  devis'd  for  form ;    and  as  the  Legate, 
Sent  from  his  Holiness  to  frame  a  peace 
Twixt  Spain  and  Savoy,  labour'd  ferventiy,  120 

For  common  ends,  not  for  the  Duke's  particular. 
To  have  him  sign  it ;    he  again  endeavours. 


i64  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  I 

Not  for  the  Legate's  pains,  but  bis  own  pleasure, 

To  gratify  him ;    and  being  at  last  encountered, 

Where  the  flood  Ticin  enters  into  Po,  12$ 

They  made  a  kind  contention,  which  of  them 

Should  enter  th'  other's  boat ;    one  thrust  the  other ; 

One  leg  was  over,  and  another  in ; 

And  with  a  flery  courtesy  at  last 

Savoy  leaps  out  into  the  Legate's  arms,  130 

And  here  ends  all  his  love,  and  th'  other's  labour : 

So  shall  these  terms  and  impositions, 

Express'd  before,  hold  nothing  in  themselves 

Really  good,  but  flourishes  of  form ; 

And  further  than  they  make  to  private  ends  135 

None  wise,  or  free,  their  proper  use  intendSt 

Byr.    O,  'tis  a  dangerous  and  a  dreadlul  thing 
To  steal  prey  from  a  lion,  or  to  hide 
A  head  distrustful  in  his  open'd  jaws ; 

To  trust  our  blood  in  others'  veins,  and  hang  140 

'Twixt  heaven  and  earth  in  vapours  of  their  breaths ; 
To  leave  a  sure  pace  on  continuate  earth, 
And  force  a  gate  in  jumps  from  tower  to  tower,     . 
As  they  do  that  aspire  ^om  height  to  height : 
The  bounds  of  loyalty  are  made  of  glass,  145 

Soon  broke,  but  can  in  no  date  be  repair'd; 
And  as  the  Duke  d'Aumale,  now  here  in  Court, 
Flying  his  country,  had  his  statue  torn 
Piece-meal  with  horses,  all  his  goods  confiscate. 
His  arms  of  honour  kick'd  about  the  streets,  150 

His  goodly  house  at  Annet  raz'd  to  th'  earth, 
And  (for  a  strange  reproach  of  his  foul  treascm) 
His  trees  about  it  cut  ofif  by  their  waists ; 
So,  when  men  fly  the  natural  clime  of  truth. 
And  turn  themselves  loose  out  of  all  the  bounds  155 

Of  justice  and  the  straight  way  to  their  ends. 
Forsaking  all  the  sure  force  in  themselves 
To  seek  without  them  that  which  is  not  theirs. 
The  forms  of  all  their  comforts  are  distracted, 
The  riches  of  their  freedoms  forfeited,  160 

Their  human  noblesse  sham'd,  the  mansions 
Of  their  cold  spirits  eaten  down  with  cares. 
And  all  their  ornaments  of  wit  and  valour. 
Learning,  and  judgment,  cut  from  aU  tibunr  ficnats. 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  165 

[EnUr  the  Archduke  Albert] 

Alb.    O,  here  were  now  the  richest  prize  in  Europe,  165 

Were  he  but  taken  in  affection.  [Embracing  Bjn-ori] 

Would  we  might  grow  together,  and  be  twins 
Of  either*8  fortune,  or  that,  still  embrac'd, 
I  were  but  ring  to  such  a  precious  stone. 

Byr,    Your  Highness'  honours  and  high  bounty  shown  tne    170 
Have  won  from  me  my  voluntary  power ; 
And  I  must  now  move  by  your  eminent  Will; 
To  what  particular  objects  if  I  know 
By  this  man's  intercession,  he  shall  bring 
My  uttermost  answer,  and  perform  betwixt  us  '     ^75 

Reciprocal  and  full  intelligence. 

Alb,    Even  for  your  own  deserved  royal  godd 
Tis  joyfully  accepted ;  use  the  loves 
And  worthy  admirations  of  your  friends, 
That  b^;et  vows  of  all  things  you  can  wish,  180 

And  be  what  I  wish :  danger  says,  no  more.  Exit 

EfUet  Mansfield,  ai  another  door 
Exit  Picot6 

Mans.    Your  Highness  makes  the  light  of  this  Court  stoop 
With  your  so  near  departure ;  I  was  forc'd 
To  tender  to  your  Excellence  in  brief 

This  private  wish,  in  taking  of  my  leave,  185 

That,  in  some  army  royal,  old  Count  Mansfield 
Bifight  be  conmianded  by  your  matchless  valour 
To  the  supremest  point  of  victory ; 
Who  vows  for  that  renown  all  prayer  and  service : 
No  more,  lest  I  may  wrong  you.  Exit  Mansfield 

Byr.  Thank  your  lordship.         190 

Enter  D'Aumale  and  Orange 

lyAum.    All  majesty  be  added  to  your  Highness, 
Of  which  I  wotdd  not  wish  your  breast  to  bear 
More  modest  apprehension  than  may  tread 
The  high  gait  of  your  spirit,  and  be  known 
To  be  a  fit  bound  for  your  boundless  valour.  195 

Or.    So  Orange  wisheth,  and  to  the  deserts 
Of  your  great  actions  their  most  royal  crown. 

Enter  Picot6 

Pic.    Away,  my  lord,  the  lords  inquire  for  you. 

Exit  Byron  \cmd  Piicot6] 


i66  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [ActU 

Manei  Orange,  D'Aumale,  Roiseau 
Or,    Would  we  might  win  his  valour  to  our  part. 
D'Aum,     'Tis  well  prepar'd  in  his  entreaty  here,  200 

With  all  state's  highest  observations ; 

And  to  their  form  and  words  are  added  gifts. 

He  was  presented  with  two  goodly  horses. 

One  of  which  two  was  the  brave  beast  Pastrana, 

With  plate  of  gold,  and  a  much  prized  jewel,  205 

Girdle  and  hangers  set  with  wealthy  stones. 

All  which  were  valued  at  ten  thousand  crowns ; 

The  other  lords  had  suits  of  tapestry. 

And  chains  of  gold;  and  every  gentleman 

A  pair  of  Spanish  gloves,  and  rapier  blades  :  210 

And  here  ends  their  entreaty,  which  I  hope 

Is  the  beginning  of  more  good  to  us 

Than  twenty  thousand  times  their  gifts  to  them. 

Enter  [behtD]  Albert,  Byron,  Bellidvre,  Mansfield,  anth  others 

Alb.    My  lord,  I  grieve  that  all  the  setting  forth 
Of  our  best  welcome  made  you  more  retired  ;  215 

Your  chamber  hath  been  more  lov'd  than  our  honours, 
And  therefore  we  are  glad  your  time  of  parting 
Is  come  to  set  you  in  the  air  you  love : 
Commend  my  service  to  his  Majesty, 

And  tell  him  that  this  day  of  peace  with  him  220 

111  hold  as  holy.     All  your  pains,  my  lords, 
I  shall  be  always  glad  to  gratify 
With  any  love  and  honour  your  own  hearts 
Shall  do  me  grace  to  wish  express'd  to  you.  [Exeunt] 

Rats,     [advancing]  Here  hath  been  strange  demeanour,        235 
which  shall  fly 
To  the  great  author  of  this  ambassy.  [Exit] 

FINIS   ACTUS   I 


ACTUS    II     SCENA    I 

[A  Room  in  the  House  of  Nemours  at  Paris] 

Enter  Savoy,  La  Fin,  Roncas,  Rochette,  Breton 

Sav.    Admit  no  entry,  I  will  speak  with  none. 
Good  signior  de  la  Fin,  your  worth  shall  find 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  167 

That  I  will  make  a  jewel  lor  my  cabinet 

Of  that  the  King,  in  surfeit  of  his  store, 

Hath  cast  out  as  the  sweepings  of  his  hall ;  5 

I  told  him,  having  threatened  you  away, 

That  I  did  wonder  this  small  time  of  peace 

Could  make  him  cast  his  armour  so  securely* 

In  such  as  you,  and,  as  'twere,  set  the  head 

Of  one  ao  great  in  counsels  on  his  foot,  10 

And  pitch  him  from  him  with  such  guard[less]  strength. 

LaF.    He  may,  perhaps,  find  he  hath  pitch'd  away 
The  axletree  that  kept  him  on  his  wheels. 

Sav.     I  told  him  so,  I  swear,  in  other  terms, 
And  not  with  too  much  note  of  our  close  loves,  15 

Lest  so  he  might  have  smok'd  our  practices. 

La  F.    To  choose  his  time,  and  spit  his  poison  on  me 
Through  th'  ears  and  eyes  of  strangers ! 

Sav.  So  I  told  him, 

And  more  than  that,  which  now  I  will  not  tell  you : 
It  rests  now  then,  noble  and  worthy  friend,  20 

That  to  our  friendship  we  draw  Duke  Bjnron, 
To  whose  attraction  there  is  no  such  chain 
As  you  can  forge  and  shake  out  of  your  brain. 

La  F,    1  have  devis'd  the  fashion  and  the  weight ; 
To  valours  hard  to  draw  we  use  retreats  ;  25 

And  to  pull  shafts  home,  with  a  good  bow-arm 
We  thrust  hard  from  us :  since  he  came  from  Flanders 
He  heard  how  I  was  threatened  with  the  King, 
And  hath  been  much  inquisitive  to  know 
The  truth  of  all,  and  seeks  to  speak  with  me ;  30 

The  means  he  us'd,  I  answered  doubtfully, 
And  with  an  intimation  that  I  shunn'd  him. 
Which  will,  I  know,  put  more  spur  to  his  charge ; 
And  if  his  haughty  stomach  be  prepar'd 

'With  will  to  any  act  for  the  aspiring  35 

Of  his  ambitious  aims,  I  make  no  doubt 
But  I  shall  work  him  to  your  Highness'  wish. 

Sav.     But  undertake  it,  and  I  rest  assur'd  : 
You  are  reported  to  have  skill  in  magic 

And  the  events  of  things,  at  which  they  reach  40 

That  are  in  nature  apt  to  overreach ; 
Whom  the  whole  circle  of  the  present  time. 
In  present  pleasures,  fortunes,  knowledges. 
Cannot  contain ;  those  men,  as  broken  loose 


i68  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  II 

From  human  limits,  in  all  violent  ends  45 

Would  fain  aspire  the  faculties  of  fiends ; 

And  in  such  air  breathe  his  unbounded  spirits. 

Which  therefore  well  will  fit  such  conjurations : 

Attempt  him  then  by  flying,  dose  with  him. 

And  bring  him  home  to  us,  and  take  my  dukedom.  50 

La  F.    My  best  in  that,  and  all  things,  vows  your  [servant]. 

Sou.    Thanks  to  my  dear  friend  and  the  French  Ulysses. 

Exit  Savoy  [cum  suis] 

Enter  Byron 

Byr,    Here  is  the  man.    My  honoured  friend.  La  Fin  ! 
Alone,  and  heavy  countenanced  ?    On  what  terms 
Stood  th'  insultation  of  the  King  upon  you  ?  55 

La  F,    Why  do  you  ask  ? 

Byr,  Since  1  would  know  the  truth. 

La  F,    And  when  you  know  it,  what  ? 

Byr.  I'll  judge  betwixt  you. 

And,  as  I  may,  make  even  th'  excess  of  either. 

La  F.    Alas !  my  lord,  not  aU  your  loyalty. 
Which  is  in  you  more  than  hereditary,  60 

Nor  all  your  valour  (which  is  more  than  human) 
Can  do  the  service  you  may  hope  on  me 
In  sounding  my  displeased  integrity ; 
Stand  for  the  King  as  much  in  policy 

As  you  have  stirr'd  for  him  in  deeds  of  arms,  65 

And  make  yourself  his  glory,  and  your  country's. 
Till  you  be  suck'd  as  dry  and  wrought  as  lean 
As  my  flay'd  carcass ;  you  shall  never  close 
With  me,  as  you  imagine. 

Byr,  You  much  wrong  me 

To  think  me  an  inteUigencing  instrument.  70 

LaF.    I  know  not  how  your  so  affected  zeal 
To  be  reputed  a  true-hearted  subject 
May  stretch  or  turn  you ;  I  am  desperate ; 
If  I  ofiend  you,  I  am  in  your  power ; 

I  care  not  how  I  tempt  your  conquering  fury,  75 

I  am  predestin'd  to  too  base  an  end 
To  have  the  honour  of  your  wrath  destroy  me, 
And  be  a  worthy  object  for  your  sword. 
I  lay  my  hand  and  head  too  at  your  feet, 
As  I  have  ever,  here  I  hold  it  still ;  80 

End  me  directly,  do  not  go  about. 


Sc  1]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  169 

Byr,    How  strange  is  this  I  the  shame  of  his  disgrace        • 
Hath  made  him  lunatic. 

LaF.  Since  the  King  hath  wrong'd  me 

He  thinks  I'll  hurt  myself ;  no,  no,  my  lord, 
I  know  that  all  the  kings  in  Christendom,  85 

If  they  should  join  in  my  revenge,  would  prove 
Weak  foes  to  him,  still  having  you  to  friend ; 
If  you  were  gone  (I  care  not  if  you  tell  him) 
I  might  be  tempted  then  to  right  myself.  Exii 

Byr,    He  has  a  will  to  me,  and  dares  not  show  it ;  90 

His  state  decay'd,  and  he  disgraced,  distracts  him« 

Redit  La  Fin 

La  F,     Change  not  my  words,  my  lotd ;  I  only  said,; 
'  I  might  be  tempted  then  to  right  myself ' ; 
Temptation  to  treason  is  no  treason ; 

And  that  word  '  tempted  '  was  conditional  too,  95 

'  If  you  were  gone  ' ;  I  pray  inform  the  truth.       ExUun^s 

Byr.     Stay,  injur'd  man,  and  know  I  am  your  friend, 
Far  from  these  base  and  mercenary  reaches ; 
I  am,  I  swear  to  you. 

La  F.  You  may  be  so  ; 

And  yet  you'll  give  me  leave  to  be  La  Fin,  xoo 

A  poor  and  expuate  humour  of  the  Court ; 
But  what  good  blood  came  out  with  me,  what  veins 
And  sinews  of  the  triumphs  now  it  makes,  .    . 

I  list  not  vaunt;  yet  will  I  now  confess. 
And  dare  assume  it,  I  have  power  to  add  105 

To  all  his  greatness,  and  make  yet  more  fix'd 
His  bold  security.    Tell  him  this,  my  lord. 
And  this  (if  all  the  spirits  of  earth  and  air 
Be  able  to  enforce)  I  can  make  good ; 

If  knowledge  of  the  sure  events  of  things,  iio' 

Even  from  the  rise  of  subjects  into  kings ; 
And  falls  of  kings  to  subjects,  hold  a  power 
Of  strength  to  work  it,  I  can  make  it  good  ; 
And  tell  him  this  too :  ii  in  midst  of  winter 
To  make  black  groves  grow  green,  to  still  the  thunder,       115 
And  cast  out  able  flashes  from  mine  eyes 
To  beat  the  lightning  back  into  the  iddes. 
Prove  power  to  do  it,  I  can  make  it  good ; 
And  teU  him  this  too :  if  to  lift  the  sea 

U 


I70  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  II 

Up  to  the  stars,  when  all  the  winds  are  still,  120 

And  keep  it  calm,  when  they  are  most  enrag'd  ; 

To  make  earth's  driest  [plains]  sweat  humorous  springs. 

To  make  fix'd  rocks  walk  and  loose  shadows  stand, 

To  make  the  dead  speak,  midnight  see  the  sun, 

Mid-day  turn  mid-night,  to  dissolve  all  laws  125 

Of  nature  and  of  order,  argue  power 

Able  to  work  all,  I  can  make  all  good  : 

And  all  this  tell  the  King. 

Byfr.  'Tis  more  than  strange. 

To  see  you  stand  thus  at  the  rapier's  point 
With  one  so  kind  and  sure  a  friend  as  I.  130 

La  F.    Who  cannot  friend  himself  is  foe  to  any. 
And  to  be  fear'd  of  all,  and  that  is  it 
Makes  me  so  scom'd ;  but  make  me  what  you  can. 
Never  so  wicked  and  so  full  of  fiends, 

I  never  yet  was  traitor  to  my  friends :  135 

The  laws  of  friendship  I  have  ever  held. 
As  my  religion ;  and  for  other  laws 
He  is  a  fool  that  keeps  them  with  more  care 
Than  they  keep  him  safe,  rich,  and  popular : 
For  riches,  and  for  popular  respects  140 

Take  them  amongst  ye,  minions ;  but  for  safety, 
You  shall  not  find  the  least  flaw  in  my  arms 
To  pierce  or  taint  me ;  what  will  great  men  be 
To  please  the  King  and  bear  authority  1  Exit 

Byr,     How  fit  a  sort  were  this  to  handsel  Fortune  I  145 

And  I  will  win  it  though  I  lose  my  self ; 
Though  he  prove  harder  than  Egyptian  marble, 
I'll  make  him  malleable  as  th'  Ophir  gold  : 
I  am  put  off  from  this  dull  shore  of  [ease] 
Into  industrious  and  high-going  seas ;  150 

Where,  like  Pehdes  in  Scamander's  flood. 
Up  to  the  ears  in  surges  I  will  fight. 
And  pluck  French  Ilion  underneath  the  waves  1 
If  to  be  highest  still,  be  to  be  best. 

All  works  to  that  end  are  the  worthiest :  155 

Truth  is  a  golden  ball,  cast  in  our  way. 
To  make  us  stript  by  falsehood :  and  as  Spain, 
When  the  hot  scuffles  of  barbarian  arms 
Smother'd  the  life  of  Don  Sebastian, 

To  gild  the  leaden  rumour  of  his  death  160 

Gave  for  a  slaughter'd  body,  h^d  for  his, 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  171 

A  hundred  thousand  crowns,  caused  all  the  state 

Of  superstitious  Portugal  to  mourn 

And  celebrate  his  solemn  funerals. 

The  Moors  to  conquest  thankful  feasts  prefer,  165 

And  all  made  with  the  carcass  of  a  Switzer : 

So  in  the  giantlike  and  politic  wars 

Of  barbarous  greatness,  raging  still  in  peace, 

Shows  to  aspire  just  objects  are  laid  on 

With  cost,  with  labour,  and  with  form  enough,  170 

Which  only  makes  our  best  acts  brook  the  light, 

And  their  ends  had,  we  tlunk  we  have  their  right; 

So  worst  works  are  made  good  with  good  success, 

And  so,  for  kings,  pay  subjects  carcasses.  Exit 

[SCENA   II 
A  Room  in  the  Courf] 
Enter  Henry,  Roiseau 

Hen,     Was  he  so  courted  ? 

Rois.  As  a  city  dame. 

Brought  by  her  jealous  husband  to  the  Court, 
Some  elder  courtiers  entertaining  him. 
While  others  snatch  a  favour  from  his  wife  : 
One  starts  from  this  door,  from  that  nook  another,  5 

With  gifts  and  junkets,  and  with  printed  phrase 
Steal  her  employment,  shifting  place  by  place 
Still  as  her  husband  comes  :  so  Duke  Byron 
Was  woo'd  and  worshipped  in  the  Archduke's  Court; 
And  as  th'  assistants  IJiat  your  Majesty  10 

Join'd  in  commission  with  him,  or  myself, 
Or  any  other  doubted  eye  appeared, 
He  ever  vanished ;  and  as  such  a  dame, 
As  we  compared  with  him  before,  being  won 
To  break  faith  to  her  husband,  lose  her  fame,  15 

Stain  both  their  progenies,  and  coming  fresh 
From  underneath  the  burthen  of  her  shame, 
Visits  her  husband  with  as  chaste  a  brow. 
As  temperate  and  confirmed  behaviour. 

As  she  came  quitted  from  confession :  20 

So  from  his  scapes  would  he  present  a  presence. 
The  practice  of  his  state  adultery, 


172  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  11 

And  guilt,  that  shoald  &  graceful  bosom  striko, 
Drovn'd  in  the  set  lake  of  a  hopeless  cheek. 

Hen.    It  may  be  he  dissembled,  or  sapposa  15 

He  be  a  Uttle  tainted,  men  whom  virtue 
Forms  with  the  stufi  of  Fortune,  great  and  gradoiis. 
Must  needs  partake  with  Fortune  in  her  humour 
Of  instability,  and  are  like  to  shafts 

Grown  crook'd  with  standing,  wiiich  to  rectify  30 

Must  twice  as  mncb  be  boVd  another  way. 
He  that  hath  borne  wounds  for  his  worthy  parts, 
Hust  for  his  worst  be  borne  with  :  we  must  fit 
Our  government  to  men,  as  men  to  it : 

In  old  time  they  that  hunted  savage  beasts  35 

Are  said  to  clotiie  themselves  in  savage  skins ; 
They  that  were  fowlers,  when  they  went  on  fowling, 
Wore  garments  made  with  wings  resembling  fowls ; 
To  bulls  we  must  not  show  ourselves  in  red. 
Nor  to  the  warlike  elephant  in  white.  40 

In  all  things  govem'd,  their  infinntties 
Must  not  be  stirr'd,  nor  wrought  on  ;  Duke  Byron 
Flows  with  adust  and  melancholy  chcrier, 
And  melancholy  spirits  are  venonioua. 

Not  to  be  touch'd,  but  as  they  may  be  cnr'd :  45 

I  therefore  mean  to  make  bim  change  tiie  air, 
And  send  him  further  from  those  Spanish  vapoma. 
That  still  bear  fighting  sulphur  in  their  breasts. 
To  breathe  a  while  in  temperate  En^ish  air. 
Where  lips  are  spic'd  witii  free  and  loyal  connwls,  50 

Where  policies  are  not  ruinous,  but  saving ; 
Wisdom  is  fdm^e,  valour  righteous, 
Human,  and  hating  facts  of  brutish  tanxe ; 
And  whose  grave  natures  scorn  the  scoft  of  Fnaee, 
The  empty  compliments  of  Italy,  55 

The  any-way  encroaching  pride  of  Spain, 

1  modest,  hearty,  just,  and  plain. 

inter]  Savoy,  whispering  with  La  Fin  '    ' 

I'll  sound  him  for  Byron  ;  and  what  I  find 

depth,  I'll  draw  up,  and  infoim 

to  the  Duke's  revolt,  60 

meet  with  him. 
]  It  must  be  done- 

of  the  Duke ;  from  whom  the  King 


Sc  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  173 

WUl  take  to  give  himself ;  which,  told  the  Duke, 
Will  take  his  heart  up  into  all  ambitioii. 

Sav.  [aside]    I  know  it,  politic  friend,  and  'tis  my  purpose.     65 

Emt  La  Fin 
Your  Majesty  hath  miss'd  a  royal  sight : 
The  Duks  B3rron  on  his  brave  beast  Pastrana, 
Who  sits  him  like  a  full-sail'd  Argosy 
Danc'd  with  a  lofty  billow,  and  as  snug 

Plies  to  his  bearer,  both  their  motions  mix'd ;  70 

And  being  consider'd  in  their  site  together. 
They  do  the  best  present  the  state  of  man 
In  his  first  royalty  ruling,  and  of  beasts 
In  their  fixst  loyalty  serving  (one  commanding. 
And  no  way  bcdng  mov'd ;  the  other  serving,  75 

And  no  way  being  compell'd)  of  all  the  sights 
That  ever  my  eyes  wHness'd ;  and  they  make 
A  doctrinal  and  witty  hieroglyphic 
Of  a  blest  kingdom :  to  express  and  teach 
Kings  to  command  as  they  could  serve,  and  subjects  80 

To  serve  as  if  they  had  power  to  command. 

Hen.    You  are  a  good  old  horseman,  I  perceive. 
And  still  out  all  the  use  of  that  good  part; 
Yonr  wit  is  of  the  true  Pierian  spring. 
That  can  make  anyttdag  of  anything.  85 

Sav.  So  brave  a  subject  as  the  Duke,  no  king 
Seated  on  earth  can  vaunt  of  but  your  Hig^ess, 
So  valiant,  loyal,  and  so  great  in  service. 

Hen.  No  question  he  sets  valour  in  his  height. 
And  hath  done  service  to  an  equal  pitch,  90 

Fortune  attending  him  with  fit  events, 
To  all  his  vent'rous  and  well-laid  attempts. 

Sav.    Fortune  to  him  was  Juno  to  Alcides ; 
For  when  or  where  did  she  but  open  way. 
To  any  act  of  his  ?  What  stone  took  he  95 

With  her  help,  or  without  his  own  lost  blood  ? 
What  fort  won  he  by  her,  or  was  not  fcHrc'd  ? 
What  victory  but  'gainst  odds  ?  On  what  commander. 
Sleepy  or  negligent  did  he  ever  charge  ? 
What  summer  ever  made  she  fair  to  him  ?  100 

What  winter  not  of  one  continued  storm  ? 
FortUM  is  so  far  from  his  creditress 
That  she  owes  him  much,  for  in  him  her  looks 
Mtt  lovely,  modest,  and  magnanimous, 


174  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  II 

Constant,  victorious ;  and  in  his  achievements  105 

Her  cheeks  are  drawn  out  with  a  virtuous  redness. 

Out  of  his  eager  spirit  to  victory, 

And  chaste  contention  to  convince  with  honour; 

And,  I  have  heard,  his  spirits  have  flowed  so  hi^ 

In  all  his  conflicts  against  any  odds,  no 

That,  in  his  charge,  his  lips  have  bled  with  fervour. 

How  serv'd  he  at  your  famous  siege  of  Dreux  ? 

Where  the  enemy,  assured  of  victory. 

Drew  out  a  body  of  four  thousand  horse 

And  twice  six  thousand  foot,  and,  like  a  crescent,  H5 

Stood  for  the  signal ;  you,  that  show'd  yourself 

A  sound  old  soldier,  thinking  it  not  fit 

To  give  your  enemy  the  odds  and  honour 

Of  the  first  stroke,  commanded  de  la  Guiche 

To  let  fly  all  his  cannons,  that  did  pierce  Z20 

The  adverse  thickest  squadrons,  and  had  shot 

Nine  volleys  ere  the  foe  had  once  given  fire. 

Your  troop  was  charg'd,  and  when  your  Duke's  old  father 

Met  with  th'  assailants,  and  their  grove  of  reiters 

Repuls'd  so  fiercely,  made  them  turn  their  becurds  125 

And  rally  up  themselves  behind  their  troops, 

Fresh  forces,  seeing  your  troops  a  little  sever'd 

From  that  part  first  assaulted,  gave  it  charge, 

Which  then  this  Duke  made  good,  seccHids  his  father. 

Beats  through  and  through  the  enemy's  greatest  strength,       130 

And  breaks  the  rest  like  billows  'gainst  a  rock, 

And  there  the  heart  of  that  huge  battle  broke. 

Hen.    The  heart  but  now  came  on,  in  that  strong  body 
Of  twice  two  thousand  horse,  led  by  Du  Maine ; 
Which,  if  I  would  be  glorious,  I  could  say  135 

I  first  encountered. 

Sav,  How  did  he  take  in 

Beaune  in  view  of  that  invincible  army 
Led  by  the  Lord  Great  Constable  of  Castile, 
Autun  and  Nuits  ;  in  Burgundy  chas'd  away 
Viscount  Tavannes'  troops  before  Dijon,  140 

And  puts  himself  in,  and  there  that  was  won. 

Hen,    If  you  would  only  give  me  leave,  my  lord* 
I  would  do  right  to  him,  yet  must  not  give — 
Sav.    A  league  from  Fountaine  Fran^oise,  when  you  sent 
him 
To  make  discovery  of  the  Castile  army,  145 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  175 

When  he  diacem'd  'twas  it,  with  wondrous  wisdom 

Join'd  to  his  spirit,  he  seem'd  to  make  retreat, 

But  when  they  pressed  him,  and  the  Baron  of  Lux, 

Set  on  their  charge  so  hotly  that  his  horse 

Was  slain,  and  he  most  dangerously  engag'd,  150 

Then  tum'd  your  brave  Duke  head,  and,  with  such  eaae 

As  doth  an  echo  beat  back  violent  soimds 

With  their  own  forces,  he  (as  if  a  wall 

Start  suddenly  before  them)  pash'd  them  all 

Flat  as  the  earth,  and  there  was  that  field  won.  155 

Hen.    Y'are  all  the  field  wide. 

Sav.  O,  I  ask  you  pardon. 

The  strength  of  that  field  yet  lay  in  his  back, 
Upon  the  foe's  part ;  and  what  is  to  come 
Of  this  your  Maishal,  now  your  worthy  Duke, 
Is  much  beyond  the  rest ;  for  now  he  sees  160 

A  sort  of  horse  troops  issue  from  the  woods 
In  number  near  twelve  hundred ;  and  retiring 
To  tell  you  that  the  entire  army  foUow'd, 
Before  he  could  rdate  it,  he  was  forc'd 

To  turn  head  and  receive  the  main  assault  165 

Of  five  horse  troops  only  with  twenty  horse ; 
The  first  he  met  he  tumbled  to  the  earth. 
And  brake  through  all,  not  daunted  with  two  wounds. 
One  on  his  head,  another  on  his  breast, 

The  blood  of  which  drown'd  all  the  field  in  doubt ;  170 

Your  Majesty  himself  was  then  engag'd. 
Your  power  not  yet  arriv'd,  and  up  you  brought 
The  little  strength  you  had  (a  cloud  of  foes, 
Ready  to  burst  in  storms  about  your  ears) ; 
Three  squadrons  rush'd  against  you,  and  the  first  175 

You  took  so  fiercely  that  you  beat  their  thoughts 
Out  of  their  bosoms  from  the  urged  figbt ; 
The  second  all  amazed  you  overthrew  ; 
The  third  dispers'd,  with  five  and  twenty  horse; 
Left  of  the  fourscore  that  pursued  the  chase  :  x8o 

And  this  brave  conquest,  now  your  Marshal  seconds 
Against  two  squadrons,  but  with  fifty  horse ; 
One  after  other  he  defeats  them  both. 
And  made  them  run,  like  men  whose  heels  were  tripp'd; 
And  pitch  their  heads  in  their  great  general's  lap ;  183 

And  him  he  sets  on,  as  he  had  been  shot 
Out  of  a  cannon ;  beats  him  into  rout. 


176  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  II 

And  as  a  little  brook  being  overrun 

With  a  black  torrent,  that  bears  all  things  down 

His  fury  overtakes,  his  foamy  back  190 

Loaded  with  cattle  and  with  stacks  of  com. 

And  makes  the  miserable  plowman  mourn ; 

So  was  Du  Maine  suicharg'd,  and  so  Byron 

Flow'd  over  all  his  forces,  every  drop 

Of  his  lost  blood  bought  with  a  worthy  man ;  195 

And  only  with  a  hundred  gentlemen 

He  won  the  place  from  fifteen  hundred  horse. 

Hen,    He  won  the  place  ? 

Sav.  On  my  word,  so  'tis  said  I 

Hen,    Fie,  you  have  been  extremely  misinformed. 

Sav,     I  only  tell  your  Highness  what  I  heard  ;  200 

I  was  not  there ;  and  though  I  have  been  rude 
With  wonder  of  his  valour,  and  presum'd 
To  keep  his  merit  in  his  full  career. 
Not  hearing  you,  when  yours  made  such  a  thunder. 
Pardon  my  fault,  since  'twas  t'extol  your  servant :  205 

But  is  it  not  most  true  that,  'twixt  ye  both, 
So  few  achiev'd  the  conquest  of  so  many  ? 

Hen,    It  is  a  truth  must  make  me  ever  thankful. 
But  not  perform'd  by  him ;  was  not  I  there. 
Commanded  him,  and  in  the  main  assault  210 

Made  him  but  second  ? 

Sav,  He*B  the  capital  soldier 

That  lives  this  day  in  holy  Christendom, 
Except  your  Highness, — always  except  Plato. 

Hen,    We  must  not  give  to  one  to  take  from  many : 
For  (not  to  praise  our  countr3rmen)  here  serv'd  215 

The  General,  Mylor'  Norris,  sent  from  England, 
As  great  a  captain  as  the  wodd  afiords, 
One  fit  to  lead  and  fight  for  Chriateiidom* 
Of  more  experience  and  of  stronger  brain, 
As  valiant  for  abiding,  in  command  220 

(On  any  sudden,  upon  any  ground. 
And  in  the  form  of  all  occasions) 
As  ready  and  as  profitably  dauntless ; 
And  here  was  then  another.  Colonel  Williams, 
A  worthy  captain ;  and  more  like  the  Duke,  225 

Because  he  was  less  tempezate  tlian  the  General; 
And  being  familiar  with  .the  maa  you  praise, 
(Because  he  knew  him  haughty  and  incapiible 


kt 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  177 

Of  all  comparison)  would  compare  with  him, 
And  hold  his  swelling  valour  to  the  mark  230 

Justice  had  set  in  him,  and  not  his  will : 
And  as  in  open  vessels  fill'd  with  water. 
And  on  men's  shoulders  borne,  they  put  treen  cups 
To  keep  the  wild  and  slippery  element 

From  washing  over,  follow  all  his  sways  235 

And  tickle  aptness  to  exceed  his  bounds. 
And  at  the  brim  contain  him ;  so  this  knight 
Swum  in  Byron,  and  held  him  but  to  right. 
But  leave  these  hot  comparisons ;  he's  mine  own. 
And,  than  what  I  possess,  I'll  more  be  known.  240 

Sou.  [aside]    All  this  shaU  to  the  Duke ;  I  fish'd  for  this. 

Exeunt 

FINIS  ACTUS  SECUNDI 


ACTUS   ni    SCENA  I 

[A  Room  in  B3rron's  House] 

Enter  La  Fin,  Byron  folhming,  unseen 

La  F.  [aside]    A  feigned  passion^in  his  hearing  now 
(Which  he  thinks  I  perceive  not)^naking  conscience 
Of  the  revolt  that  he  hath  urg'd  to  me, 
(Which  now  he  means  to  prosecute)  would  sound 
How  deep  he  stands  affected  with  that  scruple. —  5 

As  when  the  moon  hath  comforted  the  night 
And  set  the  world  in  silVer  of  her  light, 
The  planets,  asterisms,  and  whole  state  of  heaven. 
In  beams  of  gold  descending,  all  the  winds. 
Bound  up  in  caves,  charg'd  not  to  drive  abroad  10 

Their  cloudy  heads,  an  universal  peace, 
Proclaim'd  in  silence  of  the  quiet  earth ; 
Soon  as  her  hot  and  dry  fumes  are  let  loose. 
Storms  and  clouds  mixing  suddenly  put  out 
The  eyes  of  all  those  glories,  the  creation  15 

Tun'd  in  to  Chaos ;  and  we  then  desire. 
For  all  onr  joy  of  life,  the  death  ol  sleep : 
So  when  the  Tories  of  our  lives,  men's  loves, 
Qear  coiiscieiice»,  our  fames,  and  loyalties, 

CD.W.  M 


178  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  III 

That  did  us  worthy  comfort,  are  eclips'd,  20 

Grief  and  disgrace  invade  us ;  and  for  all 
Our  night  of  life  besides  our  misery  craves 
Dark  earth  would  ope  and  hide  us  in  our  graves. 

Byr,  [advancing]     How  strange  is  this ! 

La  F,  What !     Did  your  Highness  hear  ? 

Byr,    Both  heard  and  wonder'd  that  your  wit  and  spirit,        25 
And  profit  in  experience  of  the  slaveries 
Imposed  on  us  in  those  mere  politic  terms 
Of  love,  fame,  loyalty,  can  be  carried  up. 
To  such  a  height  of  ignorant  conscience. 

Of  cowardice,  and  dissolution  30 

In  all  the  ireerbom  powers  of  royal  man. 
You,  that  have  made  way  through  all  the  guards 
Of  jealous  state,  and  seen  on  both  your  sides 
The  pikes'  points  charging  heaven  to  let  you  pass, 
Will  you,  in  flying  with  a  scrupulous  wing,  35 

Above  those  pikes  to  heavenward,  fall  on  them  ? 
This  is  like  men  that,  spirited  with  wine, 
Pass  dangerous  places  safe,  and  die  for  fear 
With  only  thought  of  them,  being  simply  sober : 
We  must,  in  passing  to  our  wished  ends,  40 

Through  things  call'd  good  and  bad,  be  like  the  air 
That  evenly  interpos'd  betwixt  the  seas 
And  the  opposed  element  of  fire, 
At  either  toucheth,  but  partakes  with  neither ; 
Is  neither  hot  nor  cold,  but  with  a  slight  45 

And  harmless  temper  mix'd  of  both  th'  extremes. 

LaF.     'Tis  shrewd. 

Byr,  There  is  no  truth  of  any  good 

To  be  discem'd  on  earth  :  and,  by  conversion. 
Nought  therefore  simply  bad ;  but  as  the  stufE 
Prepared  for  arras  pictures  is  no  picture  50 

Till  it  be  form'd,  and  man  hath  cast  the  beams 
Of  his  imaginous  fancy  through  it. 
In  forming  ancient  kings  and  conquerors. 
As  he  conceives  they  look'd  and  were  attir'd. 
Though  they  were  nothing  so :  so  all  things  here  55 

Have  all  their  price  set  down  from  men's  conceits. 
Which  make  all  terms  and  actions  good  or  bad, 
And  are  but  pliant  and  well-colour'd  threads 
Put  into  feigned  images  of  truth ; 
To  which  to  yield  and  kneel  as  truth-pure  kings,  60 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  179 

That  pull'd  QB  down  with  clear  truth  of  their  gospel. 
Were  superstition  to  be  hiss'd  to  hell. 

LaF,    Believe  it,  this  is  reason. 

Byr.  'Tis  the  faith 

Of  reason  and  of  wisdom. 

LaF,  You  persuade. 

As  if  you  could  create :  what  man  can  shun  65 

The  searches  and  compressions  of  your  Grace's  ? 

Byr,    We  must  have  these  lures  when  we  hawk  for  friends. 
And  wind  about  them  like  a  subtle  river 
That,  seeming  only  to  run  on  his  course. 
Doth  search  yet  as  he  runs,  and  still  finds  out  70 

The  easiest  parts  of  entry  <xi  the  shore ; 
Gliding  so  slyly  by,  as  scarce  it  touch'd. 
Yet  still  eats  something  in  it :  so  must  those 
That  have  large  fields  and  currents  to  dispose. 
Come,  let  us  join  our  streams,  we  must  run  far,  75 

And  have  but  little  time ;  the  Duke  of  Savoy 
Is  shortly  to  be  gone,  and  I  must  needs 
Make  you  weU  known  to  him. 

LaF.  But  hath  your  Highness 

Some  enterprise  of  value  join'd  with  him  ? 

Byr,    With  him  and  greater  persons  1 

LaF,  I  will  creep  80 

Upon  my  bosom  in  your  princely  service. 
Vouchsafe  to  make  me  known.    I  hear  there  lives  not. 
So  kind,  so  bountiful,  and  wise  a  prince 
But  in  your  own  excepted  excellence. 

Byr.    He  shall  both  know  and  love  you  :  are  you  mine  ?         85 

LaF,     I  take  the  honour  of  it,  on  my  knee. 
And  hope  to  quite  it  with  your  Majesty.  [Exeunf] 


[SCENA  n 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Savoy,  Roncas,  Rochette,  Breton 

Sou.    La  Fin  is  in  the  right,  and  will  obtain ; 
He  draweth  with  his  weight,  and  like  a  plummet 
That  sways  a  door,  with  falling  off  pulls  after. 

Ron,    Thus  will  La  Fin  be  brought  a  stranger  to  you 
By  him  he  leads ;  he  conquers  that  is  conquer'd. 


i8o  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  IH 

That's  sought  as  hard  to  win,  that  sues  to  be  won. 

Sav.     But  is  my  painter  wam'd  to  take  his  picture, 
When  he  shall  see  me  and  present  La  Fin  ? 

Roch,     He  is,  my  lord,  and,  as  your  Highness  will'd, 
All  we  will  press  about  him,  and  admire  lo 

The  royal  promise  of  his  rare  aspect, 
As  if  he  heard  not. 

Sou.  Twill  inflame  him : 

Such  tricks  the  Archduke  us'd  f  extol  hia  greatness. 
Which  compliments,  though  plain  men  lu>ki  absvird. 
And  a  mere  remedy  for  desire  of  greatness,  15 

Yet  great  men  use  them  as  their  state  potatoes. 
High  cullises,  and  potions  to  excite 
The  lust  of  their  ambition :  and  this  Duke 
You  know  is  noted  in  his  natural  garb 

Extremely  glorious ;  who  will  therefore  bring  20 

An  appetite  expecting  such  a  bait : 
He  comes ;  go  instantly,  and  fetch  the  painter. 

Enter  Byron,  La  Fin 

Byr.    All  honour  to  your  Highness  1 

Sav,  'Tis  most  true,  [emhracing  him] 

All  honours  flow  to  me,  in  you  their  ocean ; 
As  welcome,  worthiest  Duke,  as  if  my  marquisate  25 

Were  circled  with  you  in  these  amorous  arms. 

Byr,    I  sorrow,  sir,  I  could  not  bring  it  with  me 
That  I  might  so  supply  the  fruitless  compliment 
Of  only  visiting  your  Excellence, 

With  which  the  King  now  sends  me  t'entertain  yon ;  30 

Which,  notwithstanding,  doth  confer  this  good 
That  it  hath  given  me  some  small  time  to  show 
My  gratitude  for  the  many  secret  bounties 
I  have,  by  this  your  Lord  Ambassador, 

Felt  from  your  Highness,  and,  in  short,  t'assure  you  35 

That  all  my  most  deserts  are  at  your  service. 

Sav.     Had  the  King  sent  me  by  you  half  his  kingdom, 
It  were  not  half  so  welcome. 

Byr,  For  defect 

Of  whatsoever  in  myself,  my  lord, 

I  here  commend  to  your  most  princely  service  40 

This  honoured  friend  of  mine. 

Sav,  Your  name,  I  pray  yon,  sir  ? 

La  F,    La  Fin,  my  lord. 


Sc  ixi  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  i8l 


Sav.  La  Fin  ?    [To  Roncas]  Is  this  the  inaii« 

That  yon  so  recommended  to  my  love  ? 

Ron.    The  same,  my  lord. 

Sav.  Y'are»  next  my  lord  the  Duke, 

The  most  desir'd  of  all  men.     [To  Byron]  O  my  lord,  45 

The  King  and  I  have  had  a  mighty  conflict 
About  your  conflicts  and  your  matchless  worth 
In  military  virtues ;  which  I  put 
In  balance  with  the  contiaent  of  France, 
In  all  the  peace  and  safety  it  enjoys,  50 

And  made  even  weight  with  all  he  could  put  in 
Of  all  men's  else  and  ol  his  own  deserts. 

Byr.    Of  all  men's  else  ?  Would  he  wei^  other  men's 
Whh  my  deservings  ? 

Sao.  Ay,  upon  my  life. 

The  English  General,  the  Mylor'  Nonis,  5$ 

That  serv'd  amongst  you  here,  he  parallel'd 
With  you  at  all  parts,  and  in  some  preferr'd  him; 
And  Colonel  Williams,  a  Welsh  Colonel, 
He  made  a  man  that  at  your  most  contain'd  you : 
Which  the  Welsh  herald  of  their  praise,  the  cuckoo,  60 

Would  scarce  have  put  in  his  monology — 
In  jest  and  said  with  reverence  to  his  merits. 

Byr,    With  reverence  ?    Reverence  scorns  him  ;  by  the 
spoU 
Of  all  her  merits  in  me,  he  shall  rue  it. 
Did  ever  Curtian  Gulf  play  such  a  part  ?  65 

Had  Curtius  been  so  us'd,  if  he  had  brook'd 
That  ravenous  whirlpool,  ponr'd  his  solid  spirits 
Through  earth'  dissolved  sinews,  stopp'd  her  vtm. 
And  rose  with  saved  Rome,  upon  his  back ; 
As  I  swum  pools  of  fire  and  gulls  of  brass  70 

To  save  my  country,  thrust  this  venturous  arm 
Beneath  her  ruins,  took  her  on  my  neck 
And  set  her  safe  on  her  appeased  shore  ? 
And  opes  the  King  a  fouler  bog  than  this. 
In  his  so  rotten  bosom  to  devour .  75 

Him  that  devour'd  what  else  had  swallow'd  him. 
In  a  detraction  so  with  spite  embru'd. 
And  drown  such  good  in  such  ingratitude  ? 
My  spirit  as  yet,  but  stooping  to  his  rest, 
Sbinm  hotly  in  him,  as  the  sun  in  clouds  So 

Purpled  and  made  proud  with  a  'peaceful  even  :  .    ,• 


i82  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  III 

Bnt  when  I  throughly  set  to  him,  his  cheeks 
Will,  like  those  clouds,  forego  their  colour  quite, 
And  his  whole  blaze  smoke  into  endless  night. 

Sou,    Nay,  nay,  we  must  have  no  such  gall,  my  lord,  85 

Overflow  our  friendly  livers ;  my  relation 
Only  delivers  my  inflamed  zeal 
To  your  religious  merits ;  which,  methinks. 
Should  make  your  Highness  canoniz'd  a  saint. 

Byr.    What  had  his  arms  been,  without  my  slrm,  90 

That  with  his  motion  made  the  whole  field  move  ? 
And  this  held  up,  we  still  had  victory.  • 

When  overcharged  with  number,  his  few  friends      -  • 
Retir'd  amaz'd,  I  set  them  on  assured, 

And  what  rude  ruin  seized  on  I  confirm'd ;  ^5 

When  I  left  leading,  all  his  army  reel'd. 
One  fell  on  other  foul,  and  as  the  Cyclop 
That,  having  lost  his  eye,  struck  every  way. 
His  blows  directed  to  no  certain  scope. 

Or  as,  the  soul  departed  from  the  body,  xoo 

The  body  wants  coherence  in  his  parts, 
Cannot  consist,  but  sever  and  dissolve; 
So,  I  remov'd  once,  all  his  armies  shook. 
Panted,  and  fainted,  and  were  ever  fl3ang, 
Like  wandering  pulses  spers'd  through  bodies  dying. .  105 

Sav,     It  cannot  be  denied ;  'tis  all  so  true 
That  what  seems  arrogance,  is  desert  in  you. 

Byr,     What  monstrous  humours  feed  a  prince's  blood. 
Being  bad  to  good  men,  and  to  bad  men  gOod  I 

Sav.     Well,  let  these  contradictions  pass,  my  lord,  no 

Till  they  be  reconciled,  or  put  in  form. 
By  power  given  to  your  will,  and  you  present 
The  fashion  of  a  perfect  government :  • 

In  mean  space  btit  a  word,  we  have  small,  time 
To  spend  in  private,  which  I  wish  may  be  115 

With  aU  advantage  taken :  Lord  La  Fin — 

Ron.    Is't  not  a  face  of  excellent  presentment  ?       . 
Though  not  so  amorous  with  pure  white  and  red. 
Yet  is  the  whole  proportion  singular. 

Roch.    That  ever  I  beheld  1 

Bret.  It  hath  good  lines,  120 

And  tracts  drawn  through  it;  the  [profile]  rare. 

Ron,    I  heard  the  famous  and  right  learned  Esurl 
And  Archbishop  of  Lyons»  Pierre  Pinac 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  183 

(Who  was  reported  to  have  wondrous  judgment - 

In  men's  events  and  natures  by  their  looks),  125 

Upon  his  death-bed  visited  by  this  Duke, 

He  told  his  sister,  when  his  Grace  was  gone, 

That  he  had  never  yet  observed  a  face 

Of  worse  presage  than  this ;  and  I  will  swear 

That,  something  seen  in  physiognomy,  130 

I  do  not  find  in  all  the  rules  it  gives 

One  slend'rest  blemish  tending  to  mishap, 

But,  on  the  opposite  part,  as  we  may  see. 

On  trees  late-blossom'd,  when  all  frosts  are  past, 

How  they  are  taken,  and  what  will  be  fruit :  135 

So  on  this  tree  of  sceptres  I  discern 

How  it  is  loaden  with  appearances, 

Rules  answering  rules,  and  glances  crown'd  with  glances. 

He  snatches  away  the  picture 
Byr.    What  I     Does  he  take  my  picture  ? 
Sav,  Ay,  my  lord. 

Byr,     Your  Highness  will  excuse  me ;  I  will  give  you      140 

My  likeness  put  in  statue,  not  in  picture. 

And  by  a  statuary  of  mine  own, 

That  can  in  brass  express  the  wit  of  man, 

And  in  his  form  make  all  men  see  his  virtues : 

Others  that  with  much  strictness  imitate  145 

The  something-stooping  carriage  of  my  neck, 

The  voluble  and  mild  radiance  of  mine  eyes. 

Never  observe  my  masculine  aspect 

And  lion-like  instinct  it  shadoweth, 

Which  Envy  cannot  say  is  flattery  :  150 

And  I  will  have  my  image  promis'd  you. 

Cut  in  such  matter  as  shall  ever  last. 

Where  it  shall  stand,  fix'd  with  eternal  roots 

And  with  a  most  unmoved  gravity ; 

For  I  will  have  the  famous  mountain  Oros,  155 

That  looks  out  of  the  duchy  where  I  govern 

Into  your  Highness'  dukedom,  first  made  yours. 

And  then  ¥dth  such  inimitable  art 

Expressed  and  handled,  chiefly  from  the  place 

Where  most  conspicuously  he  shows  his  face,  160 

That,  though  it  keep  the  true  form  of  that  hill 

In  all  his  longitudes  and  latitudes, 

His  height,  his  distances,  and  full  proportion. 

Yet  shall  it  clearly  bear  my  counterfeit. 


i84  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  III 

Both  in  my  face  and  all  my  lineaments ;  165 

And  every  man  shall  say  :  This  is  Byron ! 

Within  my  left  hand  I  will  hold  a  city. 

Which  is  the  city  Amiens,  at  whose  siege 

I  served  so  memorably;  from  my  right 

111  pour  an  endless  flood  into  a  sea  170 

Raging  beneath  me,  which  shall  intimate 

My  ceaseless  service  drunk  up  by  the  King, 

As  th'  ocean  drinks  up  rivets  and  makes  all 

Bear  his  proud  title :  ivory,  brass,  and  gold. 

That  thieves  may  purchase,  and  be  bought  and  sold,  175 

Shall  not  be  us'd  about  me ;  lasting  worth 

Shall  only  set  the  Duke  of  Byron  forth. 

Sav,    O  that  your  statuary  could  express  you 
\^th  any  nearness  to  your  own  instructions! 
That  statue  would  I  prize  past  all  the  jewels  180 

\^thin  my  cabinet  of  Beatrice, 
The  nuttmory  of  my  grandame  Portugal. 
Idost  royal  Duke,  we  cannot  long  endure 
To  be  "dius  private ;  let  us  then  conclude 
With  this  great  resolution  that  your  wisdom  185 

Will  not  forget  to  cast  a  pleasing  veil 
Over  your  anger,  that  may  hide  each  glance 
Of  any  notice  taken  of  your  wrong. 
And  ^ow  yourself  the  more  obseqiiious. 

'Tis  but  the  virtue  of  a  little  patience  ;  190 

There  are  so  oft  attempts  made  'gainst  his  person. 
That  sometimes  they  may  speed,  for  they  are  plants 
That  spring  the  more  for  cutting,  and  at  last 
Will  cast  their  wished  shadow,  mark,  ere  long  I 

Enter  Nemours,  Soissons 

See  who  comes  here,  my  lord,  [aside]  as  now  no  more,        195 

Now  must  we  turn  our  stream  another  way. — 

My  lord,  I  humbly  thank  his  Majesty 

That  he  would  grace  my  idle  time  spent  here 

With  entertainment  of  your  princely  person. 

Which,  worthily,  he  keeps  for  his  own  bosom.  200 

My  lord,  the  Duke  Nemours,  and  Count  Soissons! 

Your  honours  have  been  bountifully  done  me 

In  often  visitation :  let  me  pray  you 

To  see  some  jewels  now,  and  help  my  choice 

In  making  up  a  present  for  the  King.  205 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  i^ 

Nem.    Your  Highness  shall  much  grace  us. 

Sav.  I  am  doubtful 

That  I  have  much  incens'd  the  Duke  Byron 
With  praising  the  King's  worthiness  in  arms 
So  much  past  all  men. 

Sots.  He  deserves  it  highly. 

Exit  [Savoy  with  the  Lords].    Manet  Byron  and  Ijsl  Fin 

Byr.    What  wrongs  are  these,  laid  on  me  by  the  King,  2x0 
To  equal  others'  worths  in  war  with  mine  1 
Endure  this,  and  be  tum'd  into  his  moil 
To  bear  his  sumptures ;  honoured  friend,  be  true, 
And  we  will  turn  these  torrents.    Hence,  the  King  1 

Exit  La  Fin 

Enter  Henry,  Epemon,  Vitry,  Janin. 

Hen,    Why  suffer  you  that  ill-aboding  vermin  215 

To  breed  so  near  your  bosom  ?  Be  assur'd 
His  haunts  are  ominous ;  not  the  throats  of  ravens 
Spent  on  infected  houses,  howls  of  dogs 
When  no  sound  stirs  at  midnight,  apparitions. 
And  strokes  of  spirits  clad  in  black  men's  shapes,  220 

Or  ugly  women's,  the  adverse  decrees 
Of  consteUations,  nor  security 
In  vicious  peace,  are  surer  fatal  ushers 
Of  [feral]  mischiefs  and  mortalities 

Than  this  prodigious  fiend  is,  where  he  fawns :  225 

La  Fiend,  and  not  La  Fin,  he  should  be  call'd. 

Byr.    Be  what  he  will,  men  in  themselves  entire 
March  safe  with  naked  feet  on  coals  of  fire : 
I  build  not  outward,  nor  depend  on  props. 
Nor  choose  my  consort  by  'die  common  ear,  230 

Nor  by  the  moonshine  in  the  grace  of  kings ; 
So  rare  are  true  deservers  lov'd  or  known. 
That  men  lov'd  vulgarly  are  ever  none, 
Nor  men  grac'd  servilely  for  being  spots 

In  princes'  trains,  though  borne  even  with  their  crowns  :    235 
The  stallion^  Power,  hath  such  a  besom  tail 
That  it  sweeps  all  from  justice,  and  such  filth 
He  bears  out  in  it  that  men  mere  exempt 
Are  merely  clearest ;  men  will  shortly  buy 
Friends  from  the  prison  or  the  pillory  240 

Rather  than  Honour's  markets.    I  fear  none 


i86  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  III 

But  foul  ingratitude  and  detraction 
In  all  the  brood  of  villany. 

Hen.  No  ?  not  Treason  ? 

Be  circumspect,  for  to  a  credulous  eye 

He  comes  invisible,  veil'd  with  flattery ;  245 

And  flatterers  look  Uke  friends,  as  wolves  like  dogs. 
And  as  a  glorious  poem  fronted  well 
With  many  a  goodly  herald  of  his  praise. 
So  far  from  hate  of  praises  to  his  face 

That  he  prays  men  to  praise  him,  and  they  ride  250 

Before,  with  trumpets  in  their  mouths,  proclaiming 
Life  to  the  holy  fury  of  his  lines — 
All  drawn,  as  if  with  one  eye  he  had  leer'd 
On  his  lov'd  hand  and  led  it  by  a  rule. 

That  his  plumes  only  imp  the  Muses'  wings,  255 

He  sleeps  with  them,  his  head  is  napp'd  with  bajrs, 
iiis  lips  break  out  with  nectar,  his  tun'd  feet 
Are  of  the  great  last,  the  perpetual  motion, — 
And  he  puff'd  with  their  empty  breath  believes 
Full  merit  eas'd  those  passions  of  wind,  260 

Which  yet  serve  but  to  praise,  and  cannot  merit, 
And  so  his  fury  in  their  air  expires  : 
So  de  la  Fin  and  such  corrupted  heralds, 
Hir'd  to  encourage  and  to  glorify, 

May  force  what  breath  they  will  into  their  cheeks  265 

Fitter  to  blow  up  bladders  than  full  men  ; 
Yet  may  pufl  men  too  with  persuasions 
That  they  are  gods  in  worth  and  may  rise  kings 
With  treading  on  their  noises  ;  yet  the  worthiest, 
From  only  his  own  worth  receives  his  spirit,  270 

And  right  is  worthy  bound  to  any  merit ; 
Which  right  shall  you  have  ever;  leave  him  then, 
He  follows  none  but  mark'd  and  wretched  men. 
And  now  for  England  you  shall  go,  my  lord, 
Our  Lord  Ambassador  to  that  matchless  Queen ;  275 

You  never  had  a  voyage  of  such  pleasure. 
Honour,  and  worthy  objects ;  there's  a  Queen 
Where  Nature  keeps  her  state,  and  State  her  Court, 
Wisdom  her  study,  Continence  her  fort ; 

Where  Magnanimity,  Humanity,  280 

Firmness  in  counsel  and  Integrity, 
Girace  to  her  poorest  subjects.  Majesty 
To  awe  the  greatest,  have  respecte  divine, 


Sfc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  187 

And  in  her  each  part,  all  the  virtaes  shine. 

Exit  Henry  [cum  suis] :  man^  Byron 
Byr.    Enjoy  yonr  will  awhile,  I  may  have  mine.  285 

Wherefore,  before  I  part  to  this  ambassage, 
I'll  be  resolv'd  by  a  magician 
That  dwells  hereby,  to  whom  I'll  go  disguis'd 
And  show  him  my  birth's  figure,  set  before 
By  one  of  his  profession,  of  the  which  290 

I'll  crave  his  judgment,  feigning  I  am  sent 
From  some  great  personage,  whose  nativity 
He  wisheth  should  be  censur'd  by  his  skill. 
But  on  go  my  plots,  be  it  good  or  ill.  Exit 


[SCENA  in 

» 

The  House  of  the  Astrologer] 

Enter  La  Brosse 

LaB,    This  hour  by  all  rules  of  astrology 
Is  dangerous  to  my  peiison,  if  not  deadly. 
How  hapless  is  our  knowledge  to  foretell. 
And  not  be  able  to  prevent  a  mischief : 

O  the  strange  difference  'twixt  us  and  the  stars ;  5 

They  work  with  inclinations  strong  and  fatal. 
And  nothing  know ;  and  we  know  all  their  working, 
And  nought  can  do,  or  nothing  can  prevent  1 
Rude  ignorance  is  beastly,  knowledge  wretched  ; 
The  heavenly  Powers  envy  what  they  enjoin ;  10 

We  are  commanded  t'imitate  their  natures. 
In  making  all  our  ends  eternity. 
And  in  that  imitation  we  are  plagued. 
And  worse  than  they  esteem'd  that  have  no  souls 
But  in  their  nostrils,  and  like  beasts  expire,  15 

As  they  do  that  are  ignorant  of  arts. 
By  drowning  their  eternal  parts  in  sense 
And  sensual  affectations :  while  we  live 
Our  good  parts  take  away,  the  more  they  give. 

[Enier]  Bytoa  iolus^  disguised  Hke  a  Carrier  of  Letters    . 

Byr,  [ctstde"]    Th^  forts  that  favourites  hold  in  princes' 
hearts,  20 

In  common  subjects'  loves,  and  their  own  strengths, 


166  BYRON'S  0ON»IRACY  [Act  III 

Are  not  so  sure  and  inexpugnable 
But  that  the  more  they  are  presum'd  upon, 
The  more  they  fail:  daily  and  hourly  proof 
Tells  us  prosperity  is  at  highest  degree  3^5 

The  fount  and  handle  of  calamity : 
Like  dust  before  a  whirlwind  those  men  fly 
That  prostrate  on  the  grounds  of  Fortune  lie; 
And  being  great,  like  trees  that  broadest  ^irout. 
Their  own  top-heavy  state  grubs  up  their  root.  |o 

These  apprehensions  startle  all  my  powers. 
And  arm  them  with  suspicion  gainst  themadvea.    • 
In  my  late  projects  I  have  cast  m3rself 
Into  the  arms  of  others,  and  will  see 

If  they  will  let  me  fall,  or  toss  me  up  35 

Into  'th*  afEected  compass  of  a  thxoiie. — 
God  save  you,  sir! 
La  B,  Y' are  welcome,  friend ;  what  would  you  ? 

Byr.    I  would  entreat  you^  for  some  crowns  I  bring, 
To  give  your  judgment  of  this  figure  cast, 
To  know,  by  his  nativity  there  seen,  40 

What  sort  of  end  the  person  shall  endure 
Who  sent  me  to  you  and  whose  birth  it  is. 
La  B,    I'll  herein  do  my  best  in  your  desire. 

[He  contempUUes  the  figyre] 
The  man  is  rais'd  out  of  a  good  descent, 
And  nothing  older  than  yourself,  I  think;  45 

Is  it  not  you  ? 

Byr.  I  will  not  tell  you  that :  i 

But  tell  me  on  what  end  he  shall  arrive. 

LaB,    My  son,  I  see  that  he,  whose  end  is  cast 
In  this  set  figure,  is  of  noble  parts. 

And  by  his  military  valour  rais'd  50 

To  princely  honours,  and  may  be  a  king; 
But  that  I  see  a  CaptU  Algol  here 
That  hinders  it,  I  fear. 

Byr.  A  Caput  Algol  ? 

What's  that,  I  pray  ? 

La  B.  Forbear  to  ask  me,  son ; 

You  bid  me  speak  what  fear  bids  me  conceal.  55 

Byr,    You  have  no  cause  to  fear,  and  therefore  speak. 
LaB.    You'll  rather  wish  you  had  been  ignorant. 
Than  be  instructed  in  a  thing  so  ill. 
Byr.    Igaocance  is  an  idle  salve  for  ill ; 


Sc  3]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  189 

And  therefore  do  not  urge  me  to  enforce  60 

What  I  would  freely  know ;  for  by  the  skill 

Shown  in  thy  aged  hairs  I'll  lay  thy  brain 

Here  scatter'd  at  my  feet  and  seek  in  that 

What  safely  thou  must  utter  with  thy  tongue. 

If  thon  deny  it. 

La  B.  Will  you  not  allow  me  65 

To  hold  my  peace  ?    What  less  can  I  desire  ? 
If  not,  be  pleased  with  my  constrained  speech. 

Byr,    Was  ever  man  yet  pcmish'd  for  expressing 
What  he  was  charged  ?     Be  free,  and  speak  the  worst. 

La  B.    Then  briefly  this  :  the  man  hath  lately  done  70 

An  action  that  will  make  him  lose  his  head. 

Byr.    Cuis'd  be  thy  throat  and  soul,  raven,  screech-owl, 
hagl  [BeoHng  La  Brosse] 

La  B.    O,    hold,  for  heaven's  sake,  hold  \ 

Byr,  Hold  on,  I  will. 

Vault  and  contractor  of  all  horrid  sounds. 
Trumpet  of  all  the  miseries  in  hell,  75 

Of  my  confosiona,  of  the  shameful  end 
Of  all  my  services ;  witch,  fiend,  accnrs'd 
For  ever  be  the  pcMson  of  thy  tongue. 
And  let  the  black  fume  of  thy  venom'd  breath 
Infect  the  air,  shrink  heaven,  put  out  the  stars,  do 

And  rain  so  fell  and  blue  a  plague  on  earth, 
That  all  the  world  may  falter  with  my  fall. 

LaB,    Pity  my  age,  my  lord. 

Byr.  Out,  prodigy, 

Remedy  of  pity,  mine  of  flint, 

Whence  with  my  naUs  and  feet  I'll  dig  enough  85 

Horror  and  savage  cruelty  to  build 
Temples  to  Massacre :  dam  of  devils  take  thee  1 
Had'st  thou  no  better  aid  to  crown  my  parts. 
The  bulls  of  Colchis,   nor  his  triple  neck. 
That  howls  out  earthquakes,  the  most  mortal  vapours  90 

That  ever  stifled  and  struck  dead  the  fowls. 
That  flew  at  never  such  a  sightly  pitch, 
Could  not  have  burnt  my  blood  so. 

LaB.  I  told  truth, 

And  could  have  flatter'd  you. 

Byr.  O  that  thou  had'st  1 

Would  I  had  given  tliee  twenty  thousand  crowns  95 

That  tfaon  had'st  flattar'd  me ;  there's  no  joy  «n  earth. 


190  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  III 

Never  so  rational,  so  pure,  and  holy,  • 

But  is  a  jester,  parasite,  a  whore,  .    .     * 

In  the  most  worthy  parts,  with  which  they  please 

A  drunkenness  of  soul  and  a  disease.  lOO 

LaB,    I  knew  you  not. 

Byr,  Peace,  dog  of  Pluto,  peace  1 

Thou  knew'st  my  end  to  come,  not  me  htfe  present : 
Pox  of  your  halting  human  knowledges ! 

0  Death,  how  far  ofiE  hast  thou  kill'd,    how  soon 

A  man  may  know  too  much,  though  never  nothing  \  105 

Spite  of  the  stars  and  all  astrology 

1  will  not  lose  my  head ;  or  if  I  do 

A  hundred  thousand  heads  shall  off  before. 

I  am  a  nobler  substance  than  the  stars. 

And  shall  the  baser  overrule  the  better  ?  no 

Or  are  they  better,  since  they  are  the  bigger  ? 

I  have  a  will  and  faculties  of  choice. 

To  do,  or  not  to  do :  and  reason  why 

I  do,  or  not  do  this  :  the  stars  have  none ; 

They  know  not  why  they  shine,  more  than  this  taper,         115 

Nor  how  they  work,  nor  what :  I'll  change  my  course^ 

I'll  piece-meal  pull  the  frame  of  all  my  thoughts, 

And  cast  my  wLQ  into  another  mould  : 

And  where  are  all  your  Caput  Algols  then  ? 

Your  planets  all,  being  underneath  the  earth  120 

At  my  nativity,  what  can  they  do  ? 

MaUgnant  in  aspects,  in  bloody  houses  ? 

Wild  fire  consume  them  1  one  poor  cup  of  wine 

More  than  I  use,  tha[n]  my  weak  brain  will  bear,   • 

Shall  make  them  drunk  and  reel  out  of  their  sphei^es         .  125 

For  any  certain  act  they  can  enforce. 

O  that  mine  arms  were  wings  that  I  might  fly» 

And  pluck  out  of  their  hearts  my  destiny  I 

I'll  wear  those  golden  spurs  upon  my  heels. 

And  kick  at  fate ;  be  free,  all  worthy  spirits,  130 

And  stretch  yourselves  for  greatness  and  for  height, 

Untruss  your  slaveries ;  3rou  have  height  enough 

Beneath  this  steep  heaven  to  use  all  your  reaches.; 

'Tis  too  far  oflF  to  let  you,  or  respect  you. 

Give  me  a  spirit  that  on  this  life's  rough  sea  155 

Loves  t'have  his  sails  fill'd  with  a  lusty  wind. 

Even  till  his  sail-yards  tremble,  his  masts  crack, !  • 

And  his  rapt  ship  ran  on  her  side  so  low 


<>M 


Sc.  3]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  191 

That  she  drinks  water,  and  her  keel  plows  air. 
There  is  no  danger  to  a  man  that  knows  140 

What  life  and  death  is ;  there's  not  any  law 
Exceeds  his  knowledge ;  neither  is  it  lawful 
That  he  should  stoop  to  any  other  law. 
He  goes  before  them,  and  commands  them  all. 
That  to  himself  is  a  law  rational.  145 

Eifit 


ACTUS   IV  SCENA  I 

[A  Room  in  the  Courf] 
Enter  D'Aumont,  with  Crequi 

■ 

D*Aum.    The  Duke  of  Byron  is  retum'd  from  England, 
And,  as  they  say,  was  princely  entertain'd, 
School'd  by  the  matchless  queen  there,  who,  I  hear. 
Spake  most  divinely ;  and  would  gladly  hear 
Her  speech  reported. 

Creq.  1  can  serve  yx>ur  turn,  5 

As  one  that  speaks  from  others,  not  from  her. 
And  thus  it  is  reported  at  his  parting. 
'  Thus,  Monsieur  Du  Byron,  you  have  beheld 
Our  Court  proportion'd  to  our  Uttle  kingdom 
In  every  entertaiament ;  yet  our  mind  10 

To  do  you  all  the  rites  of  your  repair 
Is  as  unbounded  as  the  ample  air. 
"What  idle  pains  have  you  bestow'd  to  see 
A  poor  old  woman,  who  in  nothing  lives 
More  than  in  true  affections  borne  your  King,  15 

And  in  the  perfect  knowledge  she  hath  leam'd 
Of  his  good  knights  and  servants  of  yt>ar  sort ! 
We  thank  him  that  he  keeps  the  memory 
Of  us  and  all  our  kindness ;  but  must  say 
That  it  is  only  kept,  and  not  laid  out  20 

To  such  affectionate  profit  as  we  wish. 
Being  so  much  set  on  fire  with  his  deserts 
That  they  consimie  us,  not  to  be  restor'd 
By  your  presentment  of  him,  but  his  person : 
And  we  had  [not]  thought  that  he  whose  virtues  fly  ^5 


192  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  IV 

So  beytmd  wonder  and  the  reach  of  thought. 

Should  check  at  eight  hours'  sail,  and  his  high  spirit. 

That  stoope  to  fear,  less  than  the  poles  of  heaven, 

Should  doubt  an  under-biliow  of  the  sea. 

And,  being  a  sea,  be  sparing  of  his  streams :  30 

And  I  must  blame  all  you  that  may  advise  him. 

That,  having  help'd  him  through  all  martial  dangers, 

You  let  him  stick  at  the  kind  rites  of  peace. 

Considering  all  the  forces  I  have  sent. 

To  set  his  martial  seas  up  in  firm  walls  35 

On  both  his  sides  for  him  to  pass  at  pleasure, 

Did  plainly  open  him  a  guarded  way 

And  led  in  nature  to  this  friendly  shore. 

But  here  is  nothing  worth  his  personal  sight, 

Here  are  no  walled  cities ;  for  that  Cr3^tal  40 

Sheds,  with  his  light,  his  hardness  and  his  height 

About  our  thankful  person  and  our  realm. 

Whose  only  aid  we  ever  yet  desired. 

And  now  I  see  the  help  we  sent  to  him. 

Which  should  have  swum  to  him  in  our  own  blood,  45 

Had  it  been  needful  (our  affections 

Being  more  given  to  his  good  than  he  himself). 

Ends  in  the  actual  right  it  did  his  state. 

And  ours  is  slighted ;  all  our  worth  is  made 

The  common  stock  and  bank,  from  whence  are  serv'd  50 

All  men's  occasions ;  yet,  thanks  to  Heaven, 

Their  gratitudes  are  drawn  dry,  not  our  bounties. 

And  you  shall  tell  your  King  that  he  neglects 

Old  Mends  for  new,  and  sets  his  soothed  ease 

Above  his  honour;  marshals  policy  55 

In  rank  before  his  justice,  and  his  profit 

Before  his  royalty ;  his  humanity  gone, 

To  make  me  no  repa3mient  of  mine  own'. 

D'Aum.    What  answered  the  Duke  ? 

Creq.  In  this  sort. 

'  Your  Highness'  sweet  speech  hath  no  sharper  end  60 

Than  he  would  wish  his  life,  if  he  neglected 
The  least  grace  you  have  nam'd ;  but  to  his  wish 
Much  power  is  wanting :  the  green  roots  of  war 
Not  yet  so  close  cut  up,  but  he  may  dash 
Against  their  reUcs  to  his  utter  ruin,  65 

\^thout  more  near  eyes  fix'd  upon  his  feet. 
Than  those  that  look  out  <^  his  cooatry's  soil. 


Sa  I]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  193 

And  this  may  wdl  exciue  his  personal  presence. 

Which  yet  he  oft  hath  long'd  to  set  by  yours. 

That  he  nught  imitate  the  majesty,  70 

Which  so  long  peace  hath  practis'd,  and  made  full 

In  your  admir'd  appearance,  to  illustrate 

And  rectify  his  habit  in  rude  war. 

And  his  will  to  be  here  must  needs  be  great. 

Since  Heaven  hath  thron'd  so  true  a  royalty  here,  75 

That  he  thinks  no  king  absolutely  crown'd 

Whose  temples  have  not  stood  beneath  this  sky, 

And  whose^  height  is  not  harden'd  with  these  stars. 

Whose  influences,  for  this  altitude 

Distill'd  and  wrought  in  with  this  temperate  air  80 

And  this  division  of  the  element, 

Have  with  your  reign  brought  iorth  more  wor&y  spirits 

For  counsel,  valour,  height  of  wit  and  art. 

Than  any  other  r^on  of  ihe  earth. 

Or  were  brought  forth  to  all  your  ancestors.  85 

And  as  a  cunning  orator  reserves 

His  fairest  similes,  best-adorning  figures. 

Chief  matter,  and  most  moving  arguments 

For  his  conclusion ;  and  doth  then  supply 

His  ground-streams  laid  before,  glides  over  them,  90 

Makes  his  full  depth  seen  through ;  and  so  takes  up 

His  audience  in  applauses  past  the  douds : 

So  in  your  government,  conclusive  Nature 

(Willing  to  end  her  excellence  in  earth 

When  your  foot  shall  be  set  upon  the  stars)  95 

Shows  all  her  sovereign  beauties,  ornaments. 

Virtues,  and  raptures ;    overtakes  her  works 

In  former  empires,  makes  them  but  your  foils ; 

Swells  to  her  full  sea,  and  again  doth  dzown 

The  worid  in  admiration  of  your  crown'.  xoo 

D*4f^m.    He  did  her,  at  all  parts,  confessed  right. 
Creq.    She  took  it  yet  but  as  a  part  of  courtship. 

And  said  '  he  was  the  subtle  orator 

To  whom  he  did  too  gloriously  resemble 

Nature  in  her  and  in  her  government'.  105 

He  said  '  he  was  no  orator,  but  a  soldier, 

More  than  this  air  in  which  3rou  breathe  hath  made  me, 

My  studious  love  of  your  rare  government. 

And  simple  truth,  ^^ch  is  most  eloquent ; 

Your  Empire  is  so  amply  absolute  no 

CD.W.  o 


194  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  IV 

That  even  your  theatres  show  more  comely  rule, 

True  noblesse,  royalty,  and  happiness 

Than  others'  Courts :    you  make  all  state  before 

Utterly  obsolete ;    all  to  come,  twice  sod. 

And  therefore  doth  my  royal  Sovereign  wish  115 

Your  years  may  prove  as  vital  as  your  virtues. 

That  (standing  on  his  turrets  this  way  tum'd, 

Ord'ring  and  fixing  his  affairs  by  yours) 

He  may  at  last,  on  firm  groundis,  pass  your  seas. 

And  see  that  maiden-sea  of  majesty,  120 

In  whose  chaste  arms  so  many  kingdoms  lie '. 

D'Aum,    When  came  she  to  her  touch  of  his  ambition  ? 

Creq,    In  this  speech  following,  which  I  thus  remember : 
'  If  I  hold  any  merit  worth  his  presence. 
Or  any  part  of  that  your  courtship  gives  me,  125 

My  subjects  have  bestow'd  it ;   some  in  counsel. 
In  action  some,  and  in  obedience  all ; 
For  none  knows  with  such  proof  as  you,  my  lord. 
How  much  a  subject  may  renown  his  prince. 
And  how  much  princes  of  their  subjects  hold :  130 

In  all  the  services  that  ever  subject 
Did  for  his  sovereign,  he  that  best  deserv'd 
Must,  in  comparison,  except  Byron ; 
And  to  win  this  prize  dear,  without  the  maims 
Commonly  given  men  by  ambition  135 

When  all  their  parts  lie  open  to  his  view. 
Shows  continence,  past  their  other  excellence; 
But  for  a  subject  to  affect  a  kingdom. 
Is  like  the  camel  that  of  Jove  begg'd  horns; 
And  such  mad-hungry  men  as  well  may  eat  140 

Hot  coals  of  fire  to  feed  liieir  natural  heat : 
For  to  aspire  to  competence  with  your  King, 
What  subject  is  so  gross  and  giantly  ? 
He  having  now  a  Dauphin  bom  to  him,  ^ 

Whose  birth,  ten  days  before,  was  dreadfully  145 

Usher'd  vnih.  earthquakes  in  most  parts  of  Europe ; 
And  that  gives  all  men  cause  enough  to  fear 
All  thought  of  competition  with  him. 
Commend  us,  good  my  lord,  and  tell  our  brother 
How  much  we  joy  in  that  his  royal  issue,  150 

And  in  what  prayers  we  raise  our  hearts  to  heaven. 
That  in  more  terror  to  his  foes  and  wonder 
He  may  drink  earthquakes,  and  devour  the  thunder. 


SCi  I]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  195 

So  we  admire  your  valour  and  your  virtaes. 

And  ever  wUl  contend  to  win  their  honour'.  155 

Then  spake  she  to  Crequi  and  Prince  d'Auveigne, 

And  gave  all  gracious  fereweUs;    when  Byron  '  >« 

Was  thus  encounter'd  by  a  Councillor 

Of  great  and  eminent  name  and  matchless  merit : 

'I  think,  my  lord,  your  princely  Dauphin  bears  160 

Anon  on  his  cradle  through  your  kingdom. 

In  the  sweet  music  joy  strikes  from  his  birth'. 

He  answer'd  :    '  And  good  right ;   the  cause  commands  it '. 

'  But ',  said  the  other,  '  had  we  a  fift  Henry 

To  claim  his  old  right,  and  one  man  to  friend  165 

(Whom  you  well  know,  my  lord),  that  for  his  friendship 

Were  promised  the  vice-royalty  of  France, 

We  would  not  doubt  of  conquest,  in  desj^te 

Of  all  those  windy  earthquakes  '.    He  replied  : 

'Treason  was  never  guide  to  English  conquests,  170 

And  therefore  that  doubt  shall  not  fright  our  Dauphin ; 

Nor  would  I  be  the  friend  to  such  a  foe 

For  all  the  royalties  in  Christendom '. 

'  Fix  there  your  foot ',  said  he,  '  I  only  give 

False  fire,  and  would  be  loath  to  shoot  you  o£E :  175 

He  that  wins  empire  with  the  loss  of  faith 

Out-bu3rs  it,  and  will  bankrout ;    you  have  laid 

A  brave  foundation  by  the  hand  of  virtue ; 

Pat  not  the  roof  to  fortune :   foolish  statuaries, 

That  under  little  saints  suppose  great  bases  180 

Make  less  to  sense  the  saints ;  and  so,  where  Fortune 

Advanceth  vile  minds  to  states  great  and  noble. 

She  much  the  more  exposeth  them  to  shame. 

Not  able  to  make  good  and  fill  their  bases 

With  a  conformed  structure :    I  have  found  185 

(Thanks  to  the  Blesser  of  my  search),  that  counsels 

Held  to  the  line  of  justice  still  produce 

The  surest  states,  and  greatest,  being  sure ; 

\'^thout  which  fit  assurance,  in  the  greatest — 

As  you  may  see  a  mighty  promontory  190 

More  dig^d  and  under-eaten  than  may  warrant 

A  safe  supportance  to  his  hanging  brows ; 

AH  passengeiB  avoid  him^  shun  all  ground 

That  lies  within  his  shadow,  aad  bear  stiU 

A  flying  eye  upon  him  :   so  great  men,  195 

Corrapted  in  their  grounds,  and  building  out 


196  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  tAcT  V 

Too  swelling  fronts  for  their  foundations, 

When  most  they  should  be  pfropp^d  are  most  forsaken ; 

And  men  will  rather  thrust  into  the  storms 

Of  better-grounded  states  tiian  take  a  shelter  200 

Beneath  their  ruinous  and  fearful  weight ; 

Yet  they  so  oversee  their  faulty  bases, 

That  they  remain  securer  in  Conceit : 

And  that  security  doth  worse  presage 

Their  near  destructions  than  their  eaten  grounds ;  205 

And  therefore  heaven  itself  is  made  to  us 

A  perfect  hieroglyphic  to  express 

The  idleness  of  such  security, 

And  the  grave  labour  of  a  wise  distrust, 

In  both  sorts  of  the  all-inclining  stars,  210 

Where  all  men  note  this  difference  in*  their^  shining. 

As  plain  as  they  distinguish  either  hand, 

The  fixed  stars  waver,  and  the  erring  stand '. 

D'Aufn,    How  took  he  liiis  so  worthy  admonition  ? 

Creq.     '  Gravely  applied  ',  said  he,  '  and  like  the  man,      215 
Whom,  all  the  world  says,  overrules  the  Stars ; 
Which  are  divine  books  to  us,  and  are  read 
By  understanders  only,  the  true  objects 
And  chief  companions  of  the  truest  men ; 
And,  though  I  need  it  not,  I.  thank  your  counsel,  220 

That  never  yet  was  idle,  but,  sphereUke, 
Still  moves  about  and  is  the  continent 
To  this  blest  isle '. 


ACTUS  .  V  SCENA  I 

[A  Room  %H  the  Co»r(\ 
•  ■ 
Enter  B3rron,  D'Auvergne,  La  Fin, 

Byr,    The  circle  of  this  ambaasy  is^dos'd. 
For  which  I  long  have  long'd  for  mine  own  ends. 
To  see  my  faithful,  and  leave  courtly  itie&di ; 
To  whom  I  came,  methought,  with  such  a  spirit. 
As  you  have  seen  a  lusty  courser  show 


Sc  I]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  197 

That  hath  bean  long  time  at  his  flaanger  tied. 

High  fed,  alone,  and  when,  hiB  headstall  broken, 

He  mns  his  prieon,  like  a  tnunpet  neighs, 

CutB  air  in  high  cnrvete,  and  shakes  his  head. 

With  wanton  stoppings,  'twixt  his  forelegs,  mocking  10 

The  heavy  centre,  ^reads  his  flying  crest. 

Like  to  an  ensign,  hedge  and  ditches  leaping, 

Till  in  the  fresh  meat,  at  his  natural  food. 

He  sees  free  fellows,  and  hath  met  them  free. 

And  now,  good  friend,  I  would  be  fain  informed,  15 

What  our  right  princely  lord,  the  Duke  of  Savoy  . 

Hath  thought  on,  to  employ  my  coming  home. 

La  F,    To  try  the  King's  trust  in  you,  and  withal 
How  hot  he  trails  on  our  conspiiacy. 

He  first  would  have  you  beg  tiie  government,  30 

Of  the  important  citadel  of  Bourg, 
Or  to  place  in  it  any  you  shall  name ; 
Which  will  be  wondrous  fit  to  march  before 
His  other  purposes,  and  is  a  fort 

He  rates  in  love  above  his  patrimony ;  25 

To  make  which  fortress  worthy  of  your  suit. 
He  vows,  if  you  obtain  it,  to  bestow 
His  third  fair  daughter  on  your  Excellence, 
And  hopes  the  King  will  not  deny  it  you. 

Byr,    Deny  it  me  ?    Deny  me  such  a  suit  ?  30 

Who  will  he  grant,  if  he  deny  it  me  ? 

La.  F.     He'll  find  some  politic  shift  to  do't,  I  fear. 

Byr,    What  shift,  or  what  evasion  can  he  find  ? 
What  one  patch  is  there  in  all  Policy's  shop, 
That  botcher-up  of  kingdoms,  that  can  mend  35 

The  brack  betwixt  us,  any  way  denying  ? 

D'Auv.    That's  at  your  peril. 

Byr,  Come,  he  dares  not  do't. 

D'Auu.    Dares  not  ?    Presume  not  so ;  you  know,  good 
Duke, 
That  all  things  he  thinks  fit  to  do,  he  dares. 

Byr.    By  heaven,  I  wonder  at  you  ;    I  will  ask  it  40 

As  sternly,  and  secure  of  all  repulse, 
As  th'  ancient  Persians  did  when  they  implored 
Their  idol,  fire,  to  grant  them  any  boon ; 
With  which  they  would  descend  into  a  flood. 
And  threaten  there  to  quench  it,  if  they  fail'd  45 

Of  that  they  ask'd  it. 


198  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  V 

La  F.  Said  like  yofor  King's  king ; 

Cold  hath  no  act  in  depth,  nor  are  suits  wrought. 
Of  any  high  price,  that  are  coldly  sought ; 
I'll  haste,  and  with  your  courage  comfort  Savoy. 

Exit  La  Fin 

D'Auo,    I  am  your  friend,  my  lord,  and  will  deserve      50 
That  name,  with  following  any  course  you  take ; 
Yet,  for  your  own  sake,  I  could  wish  your  spirit 
Would  let  you  spare  all  broad  terms  of  the  King ; 
Or,  on  my  life,  you  will  at  last  repent  it. 

Byr.    What  can  he  do  ? 

D'Auv.  All  that  you  cannot  fear.  55 

Byr,    You  fear  too  much ;   be  by  when  next  I  see  him. 
And  see  how  I  will  urge  him  in  this  suit; 
He  comes :    mark  you,  that  think  he  will  not  grant  it. 


Enter  Henry,  Epemon,  Soissons,  Janin 

I  am  become  a  suitor  to  your  Highness. 

Hen,     For  what,  my  lord,  'tis  like  you  shall  obtain.  60 

Byr.     I  do  not  much  doubt  that ;    my  services, 
I  hope,  have  more  strength  in  your  go€>d  conceit 
Than  to  receive  repulse  in  such  requests. 

Hen.    What  is  it  ? 

Byr,    That  you  would  bestow  on  one  whom  I  shall  name  65 
The  keeping  of  the  citadel  of  Bourg. 

Hen.    Excuse  me,  sir,  I  must  not  grant  you  that. 

Byr.    Not  grant  me  that  t 

Hen.  It  is  not  fit  I  should  : 

You  are  my  governor  in  Burgundy, 

And  province  governors,  that  command  in  chief,  70 

Ought  not  to  have  the  charge  of  fortresses ; 
Besides,  it  is  the  chief  key  of  my  kingdom, 
That  opens  towards  Italy,  and  must  therefore 
Be  given  to  one  that  hath  immediately 
Dependence  on  us. 

Byr.  These  are  wondrous  reasons :  75 

Is  not  a  man  depending  on  his  merits 
As  fit  to  have  the  charge  of  such  a  key 
As  one  that  merely  hangs  upon  your  humours  ? 

Hen.    Do  not  enforce  your  merits  so  yourself ; 
It  takes  away  their  lustre  and  reward.  80 

Byr.    But  you  will  grant  my  suit  ? 


Sc  I]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  199 

Hen,  I  swear  I  cannot, 

Keeping  the  credit  of  my  brain  and  place. 

Byr,    Will  you  deny  me,  then  ? 

Hen,  I  am  enforc'd  : 

I  have  no  power,  more  than  yourself,  in  things 
That  are  beyond  my  reason. 

Byr.  Than  myself  ?  85 

That's  a  strange  slight  in  your  comparison  ; 
Am  I  become  th'  example  of  such  men 
As  have  least  power  ?     Such  a  diminutive  ? 
I  was  comparative  in  the  better  sort ; 

And  such  a  King  as  you  would  say,  I  cannot  90 

Do  such  or  such  a  thing,  were  I  as  great 
In  power  as  he ;    even  that  indefinite  '  he ' 
Express'd  me  full :    this  moon  is  strangely  chang'd. 

Hen,     How  can  I  help  it  ?     Would  you  have  a  king 
That  hath  a  white  beard  have  so  green  a  brain  ?  95 

Byr,    A  plague  of  brain  !  What  doth  this  touch  your  brain  ? 
You  must  give  me  more  reason,  or  I  swear — 

Hen.     Swear  ?  What  do  you  swear  ? 

Byr.  I  swear  you  wrong  me. 

And  deal  not  like  a  king,  to  jest  and  slight 
A  man  that  you  should  curiously  reward ;  100 

Tell  me  of  your  grey  beard  !     It  is  not  grey 
With  care  to  recompense  me,  who  eas'd  your  care. 

Hen.     You  have  been  recompens'd  from  head  to  foot. 

Byr.     With  a  distrusted  dukedom.     Take  your  dukedom, 
Bestow'd  on  me,  again  ;    it  was  not  given  105 

For  any  love,  but  fear  and  force  of  shame. 

Hen,     Yet  'twas  your  honour ;  which,  if  you  respect  not, 
Why  seek  you  this  addition  ? 

Byr,  Since  this  honour 

Would  show  you  lov'd  me,  too,  in  trusting  me; 
Without  whidi  love  and  trust  honour  is  shame,  110 

A  very  pageant  and  a  property : 
Honour,  with  all  his  adjuncts,  I  deserve  ; 
And  you  quit  my  deserts  with  your  grey  beard. 

Hen.     Since  you  expostulate  the  matter  so, 
I  tell  you  plain  another  reason  is,  115 

Why  I  am  mov'd  to  make  you  this  denial, 
That  I  suspect  you  to  have  had  intelligence 
With  my  vow'd  enemies. 

Byr,  Biisery  of  virtue. 


200  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  V 

HI  is  made  good  with  worse  1    This  reason  pours 

Poison  for  bahn  into  the  wound  you  made  ;  120. 

You  make  me  mad,  and  rob  me  of  my  soul, 

To  take  away  my  tried  love  and  my  truth. 

Which  of  my  labours,  which  of  all  my  wounds, 

Which  overtiirow,  which  battle  won  for  you. 

Breeds  this  suspicion  ?     Can  the  blood  of  faith  125 

(Lost  in  all  these  to  find  it  proof  and  strength) 

Beget  disloyalty  ?     All  my  rain  is  fall'n 

Into  the  horse-fair,  springing  pools,  and  mire. 

And  not  in  thankful  grounds  or  fields  of  fruit : 

Fall  then  before  us,  O  thou  flaming  Crystal,  130 

That  art  the  uncorrupted  register 

Of  all  men's  merits,  and  remonstrate  here 

The  fights,  the  dangers,  the  affrights  and  horrors. 

Whence  I  have  rescu'd  this  imthankful  King ; 

And  show,  conmiix'd  with  them,  the  joys,  the  glories  135 

Of  his  state  then,  then  his  kind  thoughts  of  me. 

Then  my  deservings,  now  my  infamy : 

But  I  will  be  mine  own  king ;    I  will  see 

That  all  your  chronicles  be  fill'd  with  me. 

That  none  but  I  and  my  renowned  sire  140 

Be  said  to  win  the  memorable  fields 

Of  Arques  and  Dieppe ;    and  none  but  we  of  all 

Kept  you  from  dying  there  in  an  hospital ; 

None  but  m3melf  that  won  the  day  at  Dreux 

(A  day  of  holy  name,  and  needs  no  night) ;  145 

Nor  none  but  I  at  Fountaine  Fran^oise  burst 

The  heart-strings  of  the  Leaguers ;    I  alone 

Took  Amiens  in  these  arms,  and  held  her  fast 

In  spite  of  all  the  pitchy  fires  she  cast. 

And  clouds  of  bullets  pour'd  upon  my  breast,  150 

Till  she  show'd  yours,  and  took  her  natural  form ; 

Only  m3rself  (married  to  victory) 

Did  people  Artois,  Douai,  Picaxdy, 

B^thune  and  Saint-Paul,  Bapaume  and  Courcelles, 

With  her  triumphant  issue. 

Hen.  Ha,  ha,  ha  I  Exit    155 

B3n:on  drawing  and  is  held  by  D'Auvergne 

D'Auv,    O  hold,  my  lord ;   for  my  sake,  mighty  spirit  I 

Exit  [Bjrron  followed  by  D'Auvergne] 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  201 

[SCENA  II 

Another  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  Byron,  D'Auvergne  following  unseen 

Byr.    Respect,  Revenge;  Slaughter,  repay  for  laughter. 
What's  grave  in  earth,  what  awful,  what  abhorr'd. 
If  my  rage  be  ridiculous  ?     I  will  make  it 
The  law  and  rule  of  all  things  serious. 

So  long  as  idle  and  ridiculous  King[s]  5 

Are  sufEer'd,  sooth'd,  and  wrest  all  right  to  safety, 
So  long  is  Mischief  gathering  massacres 
For  their  curs'd  kingdoms,  which  I  will  prevent. 
Laughter  ?     I'll  fright  it  from  him,  far  as  he 
Hath  cast  irrevocable  shame  ;    which  ever  10 

Being  found  is  lost,  and,  lost,  retumeth  never ; 
Should  kings  cast  off  their  bounties  with  their  dangers  ? 
He  that  can  warm  at  fires  where  Virtue  bums, 
Hunt  pleasure  through  her  torments,  nothing  feel 
Of  all  his  subjects  suffer ;    but,  long  hid  15 

In  wants  and  miseries,  and  having  pass'd 
Through  aU  the  gravest  shapes  of  worth  and  honour. 
For  all  heroic  fa^ions  to  be  leani*d 
By  those  hard  lessons  show  an  antic  vizard — 
Who  would  not  wish  him  rather  hew'd  to  nothing  20 

Than  left  so  monstrous  ?    Slight  my  services  ? 
Drown  the  dead  noises  of  my  sword  in  laughter  ? 
(My  blows  as  but  the  passages  of  shadows. 
Over  the  highest  and  most  barren  hills) 

And  use  me  like  no  man,  but  as  he  took  me  25 

Into  a  desert,  gash'd  with  aU  my  wounds 
Sustained  for  him,  and  buried  me  in  flies  ? 
Forth,  Vengeance,  then,  and  open  wounds  in  him 
Shall  let  in  Spain  and  Savoy. 

Offers  to  draw  and  D'Auvergne  agmin  holds  him 

D'Auv.  O  my  lord. 

This  is  too  large  a  licence  given  your  fury ;  30 

Give  time  to  it;    what. reason  suddenly 
Cannot  extend,  respite  doth  oft  supply. 

Byr,    While  respite  holds  revenge  the  wrcmg  redoubles. 
And  so  the  shame  of  sufferance ;    it  torments  me 
To  think  what  I  endure  at  his  shrunk  hands,  35 

That  scorns  the  gift  of  one  poor  fort  to  me, 


ioi  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [AcrV 

That  have  subdu'd  for  him  (O  injury  I) 
Forts,  cities,  countries,  ay,  and  yet  my  fury — 

[Exiturus.    Enter  Henry] 

Hen.    Byron  ? 

D'Auv.  My  lord,  the  King  calls ! 

Hen.  Turn,  I  pray. 

How  now,  from  whence  flow  these  distracted  faces  ?  40 

From  what  attempt  return  they,  as  disclaiming 
Their  late  heroic  bearer  ?  What,  a  pistol  ? 
Why,  good  my  lord,  can  mirth  make  you  so  wrathful  ? 

Byr.    Mirth  ?  'Twas  Mockery,  a  contempt,  a  scandal 
To  my  renown  for  ever;    a  repulse  45 

As  miserably  cold  as  Stygian  water, 
That  from  sincere  earth  issues,  and  doth  break 
The  strongest  vessels,  not  to  be  contain'd 
But  in  the  tough  hoof  of  a  patient  ass. 

Hen,    My  lord,  your  judgment  is  not  competent  50 

In  this  dissension ;    I  may  say  of  you 
As  Fame  says  of  the  ancient  Eleans 
That  in  th'  Olympian  contentions 
They  ever  were  "tfie  justest  arbitrators. 

If  none  of  them  contended,  nor  were  parties :  55 

Those  that  wiU  moderate  disputations  well. 
Must  not  themselves  affect  the  coronet ; 
For  as  the  air  contain'd  within  our  ears. 
If  it  be  not  in  quiet,  nor  refrains 

Troubling  our  hearing  with  offensive  sounds  60 

(But  our  affected  instrument  of  hearing. 
Replete  with  noise  and  singings  in  itsdf ) 
It  faithfully  receives  no  other  voices ; 
So  of  all  judgments,  if  within  themselves 
They  suffer  spleen  and  are  tumultuous,  65 

They  cannot  equal  differences  without  them ; 
And  this  wind,  that  doth  sing  so  in  your  ears, 
I  know  is  no  disease  bred  in  yourself. 
But  whisper'd  in  by  others ;    who  in  swelling 
Your  veins  with  empty  hope  of  much,  3ret  able  70 

To  perform  nothing,  are  like  shallow  streams 
That  make  themselves  so  many  heavens  to  sight. 
Since  you  may  see  in  them  the  moon  and  stars, 
The  blue  space  of  the  air,  as  far  from  us. 
To  our  weak  senses,  in  those  shallow  streams,  75 

As  if  they  were  as  deep  as  heaven  is  high ; 


Sc  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  40^ 

Yet  with  your  middle  finger  only  sound  them, 

And  you  shall  pierce  them  to  the  very  earth ; 

And  therefore  leave  them  and  be  true  to  me. 

Or  you'll  be  left  by  all ;    or  be  like  one  80 

That  in  cold  nights  will  needs  have  all  the  fire. 

And  there  is  held  by  others,  and  embraced 

Only  to  bum  him ;    your  fire  will  be  inward, 

Which  not  another  deluge  can  put  out. 

B3rron  kneels  while  the  King  goes  on 
O  Innocence,  the  sacred  amulet  85 

Gainst  all  the  poisons  of  infirmity. 
Of  an  misfortune,  injury,  and  death. 
That  makes  a  man  in  tune  still  in  himself. 
Free  from  the  hell  to  be  his  own  accuser. 
Ever  in  quiet,  endless  joy  enjoying,  90 

No  strife  nor  no  sedition  in  his  powers, 
No  motion  in  his  will  against  his  reason. 
No  thought   gainst  thought,  nor  (as  'twere  in  the  confines 
Of  wishing  and  repenting)  doth  possess 

Only  a  wayward  and  tumultuous  peace,  95 

But  (all  parts  in  him  friendly  and  secure, 
Fruitful  of  all  best  things  in  all  worst  seasons) 
He  can  with  every  wish  be  in  their  plenty ; 
When  the  infectious  guilt  of  one  foul  crime 
Destroys  the  free  content  of  all  our  time.  100 

Byr.     'Tis  all  acknowledged,  and,  though  all  too  late. 
Here  the  short  madness  of  my  anger  ends : 
If  ever  I  did  good  I  lock'd  it  safe 
In  you,  th'  impregnable  defence  of  goodness ; 
If  ill,  I  press  it  with  my  penitent  knees  105 

To  that  unsounded  depth  whence  nought  retumeth. 

Hen,     'Tis  music  to  mine  ears ;  rise  then,  for  ever 
Quit  of  what  guilt  soever  till  this  hour. 
And  nothing  touch'd  in  honour  or  in  spirit. 
Rise  without  flattery,  rise  by  absolute  merit.  no 

Enter  Epemon,  to  the  King,  B3rron,  etc. 

Ep.  Sir,  if  it  please  you  to  be  taught  any  courtship  take 
you  to  your  stand ;  Savoy  is  at  it  with  three  mistresses  at 
once ;  he  loves  each  of  them  best,  yet  all  differently. 

Hen.     For  the  time  he  hath  be^  here,  he  hath  talked  a 
volume  greater  than  the  Turk's  Alcoran ;  stand  up  close ;  his  1 15 
Ups  go  still.  [Retiring  with  Byron  a$^  the  Lords] 


204  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  V 

Enter  Savoy  with  three  Ladies 

Sav.    Excuse  me,  excuse  me;  the  King  has  ye  all. 
15/  Lady.    True  sir,  in  honourable  subjection. 

2nd  Lady,    To  the  which  we  are  bound  by  our  loyalty. 

Sav.    Nay  your  excuse,  your  excuse  1   Intend  me  for  afiec-  120 
tion ;   you  are  all  bearers  of  his  favours,  and  deny  him  not 
your  opposition  by  night. 

Srd  Lady.    You  say  rightly  in  that,  for  therein  we  oppose 
us  to  his  command. 

1st  Lady.    In  the  which  he  never  yet  pressed  us.  125 

2nd  Lady.    Such  is  the  benediction  of  our  peace. 

Sav.    You  take  me  still  in  flat  misconstruction*  and  con- 
ceive not  by  me. 

1st  Lady.    Therein  we  are  strong  in  our  own  purposes  ;  for 
it  were  something  scandalous  for  us  to  conceive  by  you.  130 

2nd  Lady.    Though  there  might  be  question  made  of  your 
fruitfulness,  yet  dry  weather  in  harvest  does  no  harm. 

Hen.  [aside]    They  will  talk  him  into  Savoy ;  he  begins  to 
hunt  down. 

Sav.    As  the  King  is,  and  hath  been,  a  most  admired  and  135 
most  unmatchable  soldier,  so  hath  he  been,  and  is,  a  sole 
excellent  and  unparalleled  courtier. 

Hen.  [aside]    Pauvre  ami,  merci/ 

ist  Lady.    Your  Highness  does  the  King  but  right,  sir. 

2nd  Lady.    And  heaven  shall  bless  you  for  that  justice  140 
with  plentiful  store  of  want  in  ladies'  affections. 

Sav.    You  are  cruel,  and  will  not  vouchsafe  me  audience 
to  any  conclusion. 

1st  Lady.    Beseech  your  Grace  conclude,  that  we  may 
present  our  curtsies  to  you  and  give  you  the  adieu.  145 

Sav.    It  is  said  the  King  will  bring  an  army  into  Savoy. 

2nd  Lady.    Truly  we  are  not  of  his  council  of  war. 

Sav.    Nay,  but  vouchsafe  me — 

^rd  Lady.    Vouchsafe  him,  vouchsafe  him,  else  there  's  no 
play  in't.  150 

1st  Lady.    Well,  I  vouchsafe  your  Grace. 

Sav.    Let  the  King  bring  an  army  into  Savoy,  and  I'll 
find  him  sport  for  forty  years. 

Hen.  [aside]    Would  I  were  sure  of  that  I   I  should  then 
have  a  long  age,  and  a  merry.  155 

15/  Lady.    I  think  your  Grace  would  play  with  his  army  at 
balloon. 

2nd  Lady.    My  faith,  and  that's  a  martial  recreation  1 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  205 

yrd  Lady,    It  is  next  to  impious  conrtiiag. 

Sav,    I  am  not  he  that  can  set  my  squadrons  overnight,  by  160 
midnight  leap  my  horse,  curry  seven  miles,  and  by  three  leap 
my  mistress  ;  return  to  mine  army  again,  and  direct  as  I  were 
infatigable  ;  I  am  no  such  tough  soldier. 

1st  Lady.    Your  disparity  is  believed,  sir. 

2nd  Lady,    And  'tis  a  piece  of  virtue  to  tell  true.  165 

yrd  Lady.    God's  me,  the  King  I        [Discovering  Henry] 

Sav.     Well,  I  have  said  nothing  that  may  ofiend. 

1st  Lady.    'Tis  hoped  so. 

2nd  Lady,    If  there  be  any  mercy  in  laughter. 

Sav.    I'll  take  my  leave.    [To  Heniy]  170 

After  the  tedious  stay  my  love  hath  made, 
Most  worthy  to  conmoiand  our  earthly  zeal, 
I  come  for  pardon,  and  to  take  my  leave ; 
Affirming,  though  I  reap  no  other  good 

By  this  my  voyage  but  t'have  seen  a  prince  175 

Of  greatness  in  all  grace  so  past  report, 
I  nothing  should  repent  me ;  and  to  show 
Some  token  of  my  gratitude,  I  have  sent 
Into  your  treasury  the  greatest  jewels 

In  all  my  cabinet  of  Beatrice,  180 

And  of  my  late  deceased  wife,  th'  Infanta, 
Which  are  two  basins  and  their  ewers  of  crystal. 
Never  yet  valu'd  for  their  workmanship. 
Nor  the  exceeding  riches  of  their  matter. 
And  to  your  stable,  worthy  Duke  of  Byron,  185 

I  have  sent  in  two  of  my  fairest  horses. 

Byr.    Sent  me  your  horses !  Upon  what  desert  ? 
I  entertain  no  presents  but  for  merits,  ^^ 

Which  I  am  &ur  from  at  your  Highness'  hands. 
As  being  of  all  men  to  you  the  most  stranger ;  190 

There  is  as  ample  bounty  in  refusing 
Aa  in  bestowing,  and  with  this  I  quit  you. 

Sav.    Then  have  I  lost  nought  but  my  poor  goodwill. 
Hen,    Well,  cousin,  I  with  all  thanks  welcome  that. 
And  the  rich  arguments  with  which  you  prove  it,  195 

Wishing  I  could  to  your  wish  welcome  you. 
Draw,  for  your  Marquisate,  the  articles 
Agreed  on  in  our  composition. 
And  it  is  yours ;  but  where  you  have  propos'd 
(In  yoor  advices)  my  design  for  Milan,  200 

I  will  have  no  war  with  the  King  of  Spain 


2o6  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  V 

Unless  his  hopes  pxove  weary  of  our  peace ; 

And,  princely  cousin,  it  is  fsir  from  me 

To  think  your  wisdom  needful  of  my  counsel. 

Yet  love  oft-times  must  offer  things  unneedful ;  205 

And  therefore  I  would  counsel  you  to  hold 

All  good  terms  with  his  Majesty  of  Spain : 

If  any  troubles  should  be  stirr'd  betwixt  you, 

I  would  not  stir  therein,  but  to  appease  them ; 

I  have  too  much  care  of  my  royal  word  210 

To  break  a  peace  so  just  and  consequent. 

Without  force  of  precedent  injury ; 

Endless  desires  are  worthless  of  just  princes. 

And  only  proper  to  the  swinge  of  tyrants. 

Sav.    At  all  parts  spoke  like  the  Most  Christian  King.     215 
I  take  my  humblest  leave,  and  pray  your  Highness 
To  hold  me  as  your  servant  and  poor  kinsman. 
Who  wisheth  no  supremer  happiness 
Than  to  be  yours.    To  you,  right  worthy  princes, 
I  wish  for  all  your  favours  pour'd  on  me  220 

The  love  of  all  these  ladies  mutually, 
And,  so  they  please  their  lords,  that  they  may  please 
Themselves  by  all  means.    And  be  you  assur'd. 
Most  lovely  princesses,  as  of  your  lives. 
You  cannot  be  true  women  if  true  wives.  Exit    225 

Hen,  Is  this  he,  Epemon,  that  you  would  needs  persuade 
us  courted  so  absurdly  ? 

Ep.  This  is  even  he,  sir,  howsoever  he  hath  studied  his 
parting  courtship. 

Hen.     In  what  one  point  seemed  he  so  ridiculous  as  you  230 
would  present  him  ? 

Ep.  Behold  me,  sir,  I  beseech  you  behold  me  ;  I  appear  to 
you  as  the  great  Duke  of  Savoy  with  these  three  ladies. 

Hen.    Well,  sir,  we  grant  your  resemblance. 

Ep.    He  stole  a  carriage,  sir,  from  Count  d'Auvergne  here.  235 

D'Auv,    From  me,  sir  ? 

Ep.  Excuse  me,  sir,  from  you,  I  assure  you  :  here,  sir,  he 
lies  at  the  Lady  Antoinette,  just  thus,  for  the  wodd,  ia  the 
true  posture  of  Count  d'Auvergne. 

D'Auv.    Y'are  exceeding  delightsome.  240 

Hen,  Why  is  not  that  well  ?  It  came  in  with  the  organ 
hose. 

Ep.  Organ  hose  ?  A  pox  on't  t  Let  it  pipe  itaoiU  into 
contempt ;  he  hath  stolen  it  most  feloniously,  and  it  graces 
him  like  a  disease.  245 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  207 

Hgn,    I  think  he  stole  it  from  D'Auvergne  indeed. 

Ep,    Well,  would  he  had  robbed  him  of  all  his  other 
diseases!     He  were  then  the  soundest  lord  in  France. 

D*Ai4v.     As  I  am,  sir,  I  shall  stand  all  weathers  with  you. 

Ep,     But,  sir,  he  has  praised  you  above  th'  invention  250 
of  rhymers. 

Hen.    Wherein,  or  how  ? 

Ep,     He  took  upon  him  to  describe  your  victories  in  war, 
and  where  he  should  have  said  you  were  the  most  absolute 
soldier  in   Christendom  (no  ass  could  have  missed  it),  he  255 
delivered  you  for  as  pretty  a  fellow  of  your  hands  as  any 
was  in  France. 

Hen.     Marry,  God  dild  him  t 

Ep.     A  pox  on  him  1 

Hen.    Well,  to  be  serious,  you  know  him  well  260 

To  be  a  gallant  courtier :  his  great  wit 
Can  turn  him  into  any  form  he  lists. 
More  fit  to  be  avoided  than  deluded. 
For  my  Lord  Duke  of  B3rron  here  well  knows 
That  it  infecteth,  where  it  doth  affect,  265 

And  where  it  seems  to  counsel,  it  conspires. 
V^th  him  go  all  our  faults,  and  from  us  fly, 
\^th  all  his  counsel,  all  conspiracy. 

FINIS  ACTUS  QUINTI  BT  ULTIMI 


THE   TRAGEDY   OF   CHARLES 
DUKE   OF    BYRON 


OD.W. 


The  Tragedy  of  Charles  Duke  of  Byron 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE 


Henry  IV,  King  of  France 
The  Infant  Dauphin 
The  Duke  of  Bjrron 
D'Auvergne 

The  Spanish  Ambassador 
La  Fin 

The   Vidame   of   Chartres,    his 
nephew 


French  Nobles 


Epemon, 

Soissons, 

Montigny, 

D'EscureS' , 

Harlay,    ^ 

Potier,      f  Judges 

Fleury,    J 

Bellidvre,  the  Chancellor 

Janin,      a  Minister  of  Henry 

^^"^^^^^  \  Captains  of  the  Guard 
Vitry,   j 

La  Brunei,    a  Captain    under 
Byron 


Varennes,  Lieutenant  of  Byron's 
Guard 

A  Bishop 

A    Captain  of  Byron's   Guard 

A  Messenger 

The  Hangman 

A  Soldier 


The  Nurse  of  the  Dauphin 
A  Lady 
Byron* s  Sister 

In  the  Masque 

Marie   de  Medici,    Queen   of 
France 

Mademoiselle      d'Entragues, 
the  King's  Mistress 

Cupid 

Four  Ladies 

Torch-bearers.  Ushers,  Soldiers. 
Guards 


ACTUS  I  SCENA  I 
[A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Heniy,  the  Vidame,  D'Eacures,  Epemon,  Janin 

Hen.    Byron  faU'n  in  so  trait'rous  a  rek^Me, 
Alleged  for  our  ingratitude  1    What  offices. 
Titles  of  honour,  and  what  admiration 
Could  Ftance  afford  him  that  it  pour'd  not  on  ? 
When  he  was  scarce  arriv'd  at  forty  years,  5 

He  ran  through  all  chief  dignities  of  France. 
At  fourteen  years  of  age  he  was  made  Colonel 
To  all  the  Suisses  serving  then  in  Flanders ; 
Soon  after  he  was  Marshal  of  the  camp. 
And,  shortly  after.  Marshal  General ;  xo 

He  was  received  High  Admiral  of  France 
In  that  our  Parliament  we  held  at  Tours, 
Marshal  of  France  in  that  we  held  at  Paris. 
And  at  the  siege  of  Amiens  he  acknowledg'd 
None  his  superior  but  ouxself,  the  King;  15 

Though  I  had  there  the  Princes  of  the  blood, 
I  made  him  my  lieutenant-General, 
I>eclar'd  him  jointly  the  prime  Peer  of  France, 
And  raised  his  barony  into  a  duchy. 

Jan.    And  yet,  my  lord,  all  this  could  not  allay  20 

The  fatal  thirst  of  his  ambition ; 
For  some  have  heard  him  say  he  would  not  die 
Till  on  the  wings  of  valour  he  had  reach'd 
One  degree  higher;  and  had  seen  his  head 
Set  on  the  royal  quarter  of  a  crown  :  25 

Yea,  at  so  unbeUev'd  a  pitch  he  aim'd 
That  he  hath  said  his  heart  would  still  complain 
Till  he  aspir'd  the  style  of  Sovereign. 
And  from  what  ground,  my  lord,  rise  all  the  levies 
Kow  made  in  Italy  ?    From  whence  should  spring.  30 

Ail 


212  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  I 

The  wariike  bnmonr  of  the  Conat  Fnentes, 

The  restless  sturings  of  the  Dnke  of  Savoy, 

The  discontent  the  Spaniard  entertain'd, 

With  sach  a  threateoing  ftuy,  when  he  heard 

The  prejudicial  conditiona  35 

Propos'd  him  in  the  treaty  held  at  Vervina, 

And  many  other  braveries  this  way  aiming. 

But  from  some  hope  of  inward  aid  from  hence  ? 

And  that  all  this  directly  aims  at  you 

Your  Highness  hath  by  one  intelligoice  40 

Good  cause  to  think ;  which  is  your  late  advice 

That  the  sea  anny,  now  prqiar'd  at  Naples, 

Hath  an  intended  enteipiise  on  Provence  ; 

Although  tiie  cunning  Spaniard  gives  it  out 

That  all  is  for  Algier. 

Hen.  I  must  believe  45 

That,  witiiout  treason  bred  In  our  own  breasts, 
Spain's  affairs  are  not  in  so  good  estate, 
To  aim  at  any  action  against  Prance ; 
And  if  Byron  should  be  their  instrument, 

His  alter'd  disposition  could  not  grow  50 

So  far  wide  in  an  instant ;  nor  resign 
His  valour  to  these  lawless  resolutions 
Upon  the  sndden ;  nor  without  some  charms 
Of  foreign  hopes  and  flatteries  sung  to  him : 
But  far  it  flies  my  tiioughts  that  snch  a  sfnrit,  55 

So  active,  valiant,  and  vigilant, 
Can  see  itself  transform'd  with  snch  wild  furies. 
And  UIes  a  dream  it  shows  to  my  conceits, 
That  he  who  by  himself  hath  won  such  honour. 
And  he  to  whom  his  father  left  so  much,  60 

He  that  still  daily  reaps  so  much  from  me, 
~  may  increase  it  to  more  proof 

.any  other  foreign  king, 
■^<ainst  the  stn;am  of  all  religion, 
^^''V^'ason,  take  a  courae  so  foul,  65 

)  his  oath,  nor  save  his  soul. 
>eping  of  a  citadel, 
I  to  be  at  his  disposnre, 
>  the  whole  strength  of  hia  honours  ? 
;  though  the  violence  70 

!'/'*; Vt  made  him  make  attempt 
,'.'<a  for  denying  him. 


Sc  1]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  213 

Yet  wen  I  found  his  loyal  judgment  serv'd 

To  keep  it  fr<»n  e£Eect :  besides,  being  ofEer'd 

Two  hundred  thousand  crowns  in  yearly  peuaion,  75 

And  to  be  General  of  all  the  forces 

The  Spaniards  had  in  France,  they  found  him  still 

As  an  unmatched  Achilles  in  the  wars. 

So  a  most  wise  Ulysses  to  their  words,    . 

Stopping  his  ears  at  their  enchanted  sounds ;  80 

And  plain  he  told  them  that  although  his  Uood, 

Being  mov'd,  by  nature  were  a  very  fire 

And  boil'd  in  apprehension  of  a  wrong,   .. 

Yet  should  his  mind  hold  such  a  sceptre  there 

As  would  contain  it  from  all  act  and  thought ,  85 

Of  treachery  or  ingratitude  to  his  prince. 

Yet  do  I  long,  methinks,  to  see  La  Fin, 

Who  hath  his  heart  in  keeping ;  since  his  state, 

Grown  to  decay  and  he  to  discontent. 

Comes  near  the  ambitious  plight*  of  Duke  Byron.  90 

My  Lord  Vidame,  when  does  your  lordship  think 

Your  unde  of  La  Fin  will  be  arriv'd  ? 

Vid.    I  think,  my  lord^  he  now  is  near  arriving. 
For  his  particular  journey  and  devotion 
Vow'd  to  the  holy  Lady  of  Loretto,  95 

Was  long  since  past  and  he  upon  return. 

Hen.    In  him,  as  in  a  crystal  that  is  charm'd, 
I  shall  discern  by  whom  and  what  designs 
My  rule  is  threaten'd ;  and  that  sacred  power 
That  hath  enabled  this  defensive  arm  100 

(When  I  enjoy'd  but  an  unequal  nook 
Of  that  I  now  possess)  to  front  a  king 
Far  my  superior,  and  from  twelve  set  battles 
March  home  a  victor — ten  of  them  obtained, 
V^thout  my  personal  service — ^wiU  not  see  105 

A  trait'rous  subject  foil  me,  and  so  end 
What  his  hand  hath  with  such  success  begun. 

Enier  a  Lady  and  a  Nurse  bringing  the  Dauphin 

Ep.    See    the  young  Dauphin    brought  to    cheer  your 
Highness. 

Hen,    My  royal  blessing  and  the  King  of  Heaven 
Make  thee  an  aged  and  a  happy  king :  1 10 

Htkp,  nuxse,  to  put  my  sword  into  his  hand. 


214  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  I 

Hold,  boy,  by  tbis ;    and  with  it  may  thy  ann 

Cut  from  thy  tree  of  rule  all  trait'rous  branches 

That  strive  to  shadow  and  eclipse  thy  glories ; 

Have  thy  old  father's  Angel  for  thy  guide,  Z15 

Redoubled  be  his  spirit  in  thy  breast 

(Who,  when  this  state  ran  like  a  turbulent  sea 

In  civil  hates  and  bloody  enmity. 

Their  wraths  and  envies,  like  so  many  winds. 

Settled  and  burst),  and  like  the  halcyon's  birth,  zao 

Be  thine  to  bring  a  calm  upon  the  shore,        *' 

In  which  the  eyes  of  war  may  ever  sleep 

As  overmatched  with  former  massacres. 

When  guilty  [lust]  made  noblesse  feed  on  noblesse — 

All  the  sweet  plenty  of  the  realm  exhausted —  125 

When  the  nak'd  merchant  was  pursu'd  for  spoil. 

When  the  poor  peasants  frighted  neediest  thieves 

With  their  pale  leanness  (nothing  left  on  them 

But  meagre  carcases  sustain'd  with  air. 

Wand 'ring  like  ghosts  affrighted  from  their  graves),  130 

When  with  the  often  and  incessant  sounds 

The  very  beasts  knew  the  alarum  bell, 

And,  hearing  it,  ran  bellowing  to  their  home : 

From  which  unchristian  broils  and  homicides 

Let  the  religious  sword  of  justice  free  135 

Thee  and  thy  kingdoms  govem'd  after  me. 

O  heaven  1     Or  if  th'  unsettled  blood  of  France 

With  ease  and  wealth  renew  her  dvil  furies, 

Let  all  my  powers  be  emptied  in  my  son 

To  curb  and  end  them  all,  as  I  have  done.  140 

Let  him  by  virtue  quite  [cut]  ofi  from  Fortune 

Her  feathcoi^d  shoulders  and  her  winged  shoes. 

And  thrust  from  her  light  feet  her  turning  stone 

That  she  may  ever  tarry  by  his  throne. 

And  of  his  worth  let  after  ages  say  145 

(He  fighting  for  the  land  and  bringing  home 

Just  conquests,  loaden  with  his  enemies'  spoils). 

His  father  paas'd  all  France  in  martial  deeds, 

But  he  his  father  twenty  times  exceeds.  [Exeunt] 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  215 

[SCENA  II 

At  Dijon] 

Enter  the  Duke  of  Byron,  D'Auvergne,  and  La  Fin 

Byr.     My  dear  friends,  D'Auvergne  and  La  Fin, 
We  need  no  conjurations  to  conceal 
Our  close  int^idments  to  advance  our  states 
Even  with  our  merits,  which  are  now  neglected ; 
Since  Bretagne  is  reduc'd,  and  breathless  War  5 

Hath  sheath'd  his  sword  and  wrapp'd  his  ensigns  np. 
The  King  hath  now  no  more  use  of  my  valour. 
And  therefore  I  shall  now  no  more  enjoy 
The  credit  that  my  service  held  with  him — 
My  service  that  hath  driven  through  all  extremes,  10 

Through  tempests,  droughts,  and  through  the  deepest  floods. 
Winters  of  shot,  and  over  rocks  so  high 
That  birds  could  sparce  aspire  their  ridgy  tops. 
The  world  is  quite  inverted.  Virtue  thrown 

At  Vice's  feet,  and  sensual  Peace  confounds  15 

Valour  and  cowardice,  i^ucne  and  infamy ; 

The  rude  and  terrible  age  is  tum'd  again. 

When  the  thick  air  hid  heaven,  and  all  the  stars 

Were  drown'd  in  humour,  tough  and  hard  to  pierce ; 

When  the  red  sun  held  not  his  fixed  place,  20 

Kept  not  his  certain  course,  his  rise  and  set, 

Nor  yet  distinguished  with  his  definite  bounds, 

Nor  in  his  firm  oonvessions  were  discerned 

The  fruitful  distances  of  time  and  place 

In  the  well-varied  seasons  of  the  year ;  25 

When  th'  incompos'd  tncurtions  of  floods 

Wasted  and  eat  the  earth,  and  all  things  show'd 

Wild  and  disorder'd  :    nought  was  worse  than  now. 

We  must  reform  and  have  a  new  creation 

Of  state  and  government*  and  on  our  Chaos  3^ 

Will  I  sit  brooding  up  another  world. 

I,  who  through  all  the  dangers  that  can  siege 

The  life  of  man  have  foic'd  my  glorious  way 

To  the  repairing  of  my  country's  ruins, 

Will  ruin  it  again  to  re-advance  it.  35 

Roman  Camillus  sav'd  the  tftate  of  Rome 

\^^th  far  less  merit  than  Byron  hath  France  ; 

And  how  short  of  this  is  my  recompence. 


2i6  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  t Act  I 

The  King  shall  know  I  will  have  better  price 

Set  on  my  services,  in  spite  of  whom  40 

I  will  proclaim  and  ring  my  discontents 

Into  the  farthest  ear  of  all  the  world. 

La  F,    How  great   a   spirit  he  breathes  1  How  leam'd, 
how  wise  I 
But,  worthy  Prince,  yon  must  give  temperate  air 
To  yonr  unmatched  and  more  than  human  wind,  45 

Else  will  our  plots  be  frost-bit  in  the  flower. 

D'Auv,    Betwixt  ourselves   we  may   give   liberal   vent 
To  all  our  fiery  and  displeas'd  impressionB ; 
Which  nature  could  not  entertain  with  life 
Without  some  exhalation ;    a  wrong'd  thought  30 

Will  break  a  rib  of  steel. 

Byr,  My  princ^  Mend, 

Enough  of  these  eruptions ;    our  grave  counsellor 
Well  knows  that  great  affairs  will  not  be  forg'd 
But  upon  anvils  that  are  lin'd  with  wocd ; 
We  must  ascend  to  our  intentions'  top  55 

Like  clouds,  that  be  not  seen  till  they  be  up. 

La  F.    O,  you  do  too  much  ravish  and  my  soul 
Offer  to  music  in  your  numerous  breath. 
Sententious,  and  so  high  it  wakens  death : 
It  is  for  these  parts  that  the  Spanish  King  60 

Hath  sworn  to  win  them  to  his  side 
At  any  price  or  peril,  that  great  Savoy 
Offers  his  princely  daughter  and  a  dowry 
Amounting  to  five  hundred  thousand  crowns. 
With  full  transport  of  all  the  sovereign  rights  65 

Belonging  to  the  State  of  Burgundy ; 
Which  marriage  will  be  made  the  only  cement 
T'effect  and  streng^en  all  our  secret  treaties. 
Instruct  me  therefore,  my  assured  Prmce, 
Now  I  am  going  to  resolve  the  King  70 

Of  his  suspicions,  how  I  shall  behave  me. 

Byr.    Go,  my  most  trusted  friend,  with  happy  feet ; 
Make  me  a  sound  man  with  him ;    go  to  Court 
But  with  a  little  train,  and  be  prepar'd 

To  hear,  at  first,  terms  of  contempt  and  choler,  75 

Which  3rou  may  easily  calm,  and  turn  to  grace. 
If  3rou  beseech  his  Highness  to  believe 
That  your  whole  drift  and  course  for  Italy 
(Where  he  hath  heard  you  were)  was  only  made 


Saa]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  217 

Out  of  your  long  wdl-known  devotion  80 

To  our  right  holy  Lady  of  Loretto, 

As  you  have  told  some  of  your  friends  in  Court, 

And  that  in  passing  Milan  and  Turin 

They  charg'd  yon  to  propound  my  marriage 

l^th  the  third  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy ;  85 

Which  you  have  done,  and  I  rejected  it, 

Resolv'd  to  bu^d  upon  his  royal  care 

For  my  bestowing,  which  he  lately  vow'd. 

LaF.    O,  you  direct,  as  if  the  God  of  light 
Sat  in  each  nook  of  you  and  pointed  out  90 

The  path  of  empire,  charming  all  the  dangers, 
On  both  sides  arm'd,  with  his  harmonious  finger. 

Byr,    Besides,  let  me  entreat  you  to  dismiss 
All  that  have  made  the  voyage  with  your  lordship. 
But  specially  the  curate,  and  to  lock  95 

Your  papers  in  some  place  of  doubtless  safety. 
Or  sacrifice  them  to  the  God  of  fire. 
Considering  worthily  that  in  your  hands 
I  put  my  fortunes,  honour,  and  my  life. 

LaF,    Therein  the  bounty  that  your  Grace  hath  shown  me  100 
I  prize  past  life  and  all  things  that  are  mine, 
And  will  undoubtedly  preserve  and  tender 
The  merit  of  it,  as  my  hope  of  heaven. 

Byr,    I  make  no  question ;    farewell,  worthy  friend. 

Exit  [Byron  wM  the  othsrs] 

[SCENA  III 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Henry,  Chancellor,  La  Fin,  D'Escures,  Janin ;  Henry 
having  many  papers  in  his  hand 

Hen,    Are  these  proofs  of  that  purely  Catholic  xeal 
That  made  him  wish  no  other  glorious  title 
Than  to  be  call'd  the  Scourge  of  Huguenots  ? 

Chan.    No  question,  sir,  he  was  of  no  religion ; 
But,  upon  false  grounds  by  some  courtiers  laid,  5 

Hath  oft  been  heard  to  mock  and  jest  at  all. 

Hen,    Are  not  his  treasons  heinous  ? 

All.  Most  abhorr'd. 

Chan,    All  is  confirmed  that  jrou  have  heard  before^ 
And  amplified  with  many  hoirors  more. 


2i8  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  I 

Hen,    Good  de  la  Fin,  you  were  our  golden  plummet       lo 
To  sound  this  gulf  of  all  ingratitude  ; 
In  which  you  have  with  excellent  desert 
Of  loyalty  and  policy  expressed 
Your  name  in  action ;    and  with  such  appearance 
Have  prov'd  the  parts  of  his  ingrateful  treasons  15 

That  I  must  credit  more  than  I  desir'd. 

LaF.    I  must  confess,  my  lord,  my  voyages 
Made  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy  and  to  Milan 
Were  with  endeavour  that  the  wars  retum'd 
Might  breed  some  trouble  to  your  Majesty,  20 

And  profit  those  by  whom  they  were  procur'd  ; 
But  since  in  their  designs  your  sacred  person 
Was  not  excepted,  which  I  since  have  seen, 
It  so  abhorr'd  me  that  I  was  resolVd 

To  give  you  full  intelligence  thereof;  25 

And  rather  choos'd  to  fail  in  promises 
Made  to  the  servant  than  infiinge  my  fealty 
Sworn  to  my  royal  Sovereign  and  master. 

Hen.    I  am  extremely  discontent  to  see 
This  most  unnatural  conspiracy ;  30 

And  would  not  have  the  Marshal  of  Byron 
The  first  example  of  my  forced  justice ; 
Nor  that  his  death  should  be  the  worthy  cause 
That  my  calm  reign  (which  hitherto  halli  held 
A  dear  and  cheerful  sky  above  the  heads  35 

Of  my  dear  subjects)  should  so  suddenly 
Be  overcast  with  clouds  of  fire  and  thunder ; 
Yet  on  submission,  I  vow  still  his  pardon. 

Jan,    And  still  our  humble  counsels,  for  his  service. 
Would  so  resolve  you,  if  he  will  employ  40 

His  honoured  valour  as  effectually 
To  fortify  the  state  against  your  foes 
As  he  hath  practised  bad  intendments  with  them. 

Hen,    That  vow  shall  stand,  and  we  will  now  address 
Some  messengers  to  call  him  home  to  Court,  45 

Without  the  slend'rest  intimation 
Of  any  ill  we  know ;    we  will  restrain 
(With  all  forgiveness,  if  he  will  confess) 
His  headlong  course  to  ruin ;   and  his  taste 
f^om  the  sweet  poison  of  his  friendlike  foes :  50 

Tteason  hath  blistered  heds ;   dishonest  things 
Have  bitter  rivers,  though  delicious  springs. 


Sa  3]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  219 

D'Escures,  haste  you  unto  him  and  inform. 

That  having  heard  by  sure  intelligence 

Of  the  great  levies  made  in  Italy  55 

Of  arms  and  soldiers,  I  am  resolute, 

Upon  my  frontiers  to  maintain  an  army. 

The  charge  whereof  I  will  impose  on  him ; 

And  to  that  end  expressly  have  commanded 

De  Vic,  our  Lord  Ambassador  in  Suisse,  60 

To  demand  levy  of  six  thousand  men, 

Appointing  them  to  march  where  Duke  Byron 

Shall  have  directions ;    wherein  I  have  followed 

The  counsel  of  my  Constable,  his  gossip ; 

Whose  lik'd  advice  I  made  him  know  by  letters,  65 

Wishing  to  hear  his  own  from  his  own  mouth. 

And  by  all  means  conjure  his  speediest  presence ; 

Do  this  with  utmost  haste. 

D'Es.  I  wiU,  my  lord. 

Exit  D'Escures 

Hen.    My  good  Lord  Chancellor,  of  many  pieces, 
More  than  is  here,  of  his  conspiracies  70 

Presented  to  us  by  our  friend  La  Fin, 
You  only  shall  reserve  these  seven-and-twenty. 
Which  are  not  those  that  [most]  conclude  against  him. 
But  mention  only  him,  since  I  am  loth 
To  have  the  rest  of  the  conspirators  known.  75 

Chan.    My  lord,  my  purpose  is  to  guard  all  these 
So  safely  from  the  sight  of  any  other 
That  in  my  doublet  I  will  have  them  sew'd, 
Without  discovering  them  to  mine  own  eyes 
Till  need  or  opportunity  requires.  So 

Hen.    You  shall  do  well,  my  lord,  they  are  of  weight ; 
But  I  am  doubtful  that  his  conscience 
yrm  make  him  so  suspicious  of  the  worst 
That  he  will  hardly  be  induc'd  to  come. 

Jan,    I  much  should  doubt  that  too,  but  that  I  hope      ^  85 
The  strength  of  hiis  conspiracy  as  yet 
Is  not  so  ready  that  he  dare  presume 
By  his  refusal  to  make  known  so  much 
Of  his  disloyalty. 

Hen.  I  yet  conceive 

His  practices  are  tum'd  to  no  bad  end ;  go 

And,  good  La  Fin,  I  pray  you  write  to  him 
To  hasten  his  repair,  and  make  him  sure 


230  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  II 

That  you  have  satisfied  me  to  the  full 

For  all  his  actions,  and  have  utter'd  nought 

But  what  might  serve  to  banish  bad  impressions.  95 

LaF,    I  will  not  fail,  my  lord. 

Hen,  Convey  your  letters 

By  some  choice  friend  of  his,  or  by  his  brother; 
And  for  a  third  excitement  to  his  presence, 
Janin,  yourself  shall  go,  and  with  the  power 
That  both  the  rest  employ  to  make  him  come,  100 

Use  you  the  strength  of  your  persuasions. 

Jan,     I  will,  my  lord,  and  hope  I  shall  present  him. 

Emt  Janin 
***** 

[ACTUS    II 

A  Room  in  the  Courf] 

Enter  Epemon,  Soissons,  Vitry,  Pr&Un,  etc.  [to  the  King] 

Ep.    Will't  please  your  Majesty  to  take  your  place  ? 
The  Masque  is  coming.  .] 

Hen,  Room,  my  lords;    stand  close. 

Music  and  a  song  above,  and  Cupid  enters  with  a  table  written 
hung  about  his  nech  ;  after  him  two  torch-bearers  ;  after 
them  Marie,  D'Entragues,  and  four  ladies  more  with  their 
torch-bearers,  etc, 
Cupid  speahs. 

Cup.    My  lord,  these  nymphs,  part  of  the  scattered  train 
Of  friendless  Virtue  (living  in  the  woods 

Of  shady  Arden,  and  of  late  not  hearing  5 

The  dr^uiful  sounds  of  war,  but  that  sweet  Peace, 
Was  by  your  valour  lifted  from  her  grave, 
Set  on  your  royal  right  hand,  and  all  Virtues 
Summon'd  with  honour  and  with  rich  rewards 
To  be  her  handmaids) :   these,  I  say,  the  Virtues,  10 

Have  put  their  heads  out  of  their  caves  and  coverts. 
To  be  your  true  attendants  in  your  Court : 
In  which  desire  I  must  relate  a  tale 
Of  kind  and  worthy  emulation 

'Twixt  these  two  Virtues,  leaders  of  the  train,  15 

This  on  the  right  hand  is  Sophrosjrne, 
Or  Chastity,  this  other  Dapsile, 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  221 

Or  Liberality ;    their  emulation 

Begat  a  jar,  which  thus  was  recondl'd. 

I  (having  left  my  Goddess  mother's  lap,  20 

To  hawk  and  shoot  at  birds  in  Arden  groves) 

Beheld  this  princely  n3rmph  with  much  affection, 

Left  killing  birds,  and  tum'd  into  a  bird, 

Like  which  I  flew  betwixt  her  ivory  breasts 

As  if  I  had  been  driven  by  some  hawk  25 

To  sue  to  her  for  safety  of  my  life ; 

She  smil'd  at  first,  and  sweetly  shadow'd  me 

With  soft  protection  of  her  silver  hand  ; 

Sometimes  she  tied  my  legs  in  her  rich  hair. 

And  made  me  (past  my  nature,  liberty)  30 

Proud  of  my  fetters.    As  I  pertly  sat. 

On  the  white  pillows  of  her  naked  breasts, 

I  sung  for  joy ;    she  answer'd  note  for  note, 

Relish  for  relish,  with  such  ease  and  art 

In  her  divine  division,  that  my  tunes  35 

Show'd  like  the  God  of  shepherds'  to  the  Sun's, 

Compared  with  hers ;    asham'd  of  which  disgrace, 

I  took  my  true  shape,  bow,  and  all  my  shafts. 

And  lighted  all  my  torches  at  her  eyes ; 

Which  set  about  her  in  a  golden  ring,  40 

I  foUow'd  birds  again  from  tree  to  tree, 

Kill'd  and  presented,  and  she  kindly  took. 

But  when  die  handled  my  triumphant  bow, 

And  saw  the  beauty  of  my  golden  shafts. 

She  begg'd  them  of  me ;  I,  poor  boy,  replied  45 

I  had  no  other  riches,  yet  was  pleas'd 

To  hazard  all  and  stake  them  gainst  a  kiss 

At  an  old  game  I  us'd,  call'd  penny-prick. 

She,  privy  to  her  own  skill  in  the  play, 

Answer'd  my  challenge ;  so  I  lost  my  arms,  50 

And  now  my  shafts  are  headed  with  her  looks; 

One  of  which  shafts  she  put  into  my  bow. 

And  shot  at  this  fair  nymph,  with  whom  before, 

I  told  .your  Majesty  she  had  some  jar. 

The  nymph  did  instantly  repent  all  parts  55 

She  play'd  in  urging  that  effeminate  war, 

Lov'd  and  submitted  ;   which  submission 

This  took  so  well  that  now  they  both  are  one ; 

And  as  for  your  dear  love  their  discords  grew. 

So  for  your  love  they  did  their  loves  renew*  60 


222  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  II 

And  now  to  prove  them  capable  of  your  Court 

In  skill  of  such  conceits  and  qualities 

As  here  are  practis'd,  they  will  first  submit 

Their  grace  in  dancing  to  your  Highness'  doom. 

And  p[r]ay  the  press  to  give  their  measures  room.  65 

Music,  dance,  etc,,  which  done  Cupid  speahs 

If  this  suffice  for  one  Court  compliment 

To  make  them  gracious  and  entertain'd. 

Behold  another  parcel  of  their  courtship. 

Which  is  a  rare  dexterity  in  riddles. 

Shown  in  one  instance,  which  is  here  inscribed.  70 

Here  is  a  riddle,  which  if  any  knight 

At  first  sight  can  resolve,  he  shall  enjoy 

This  jewel  here  annex'd ;    which,  though  it  show 

To  vulgar  eyes  no  richer  than  a  pebble, 

And  that  no  lapidary  nor  great  man  75 

Will  give  a  sou  for  it,  'tis  worth  a  kingdom ; 

For  'tis  an  artificial  stone  compos'd 

By  their  great  mistress.  Virtue,  and  will  make 

Him  that  shall  wear  it  live  with  any  little 

Suffic'd  and  more  content  than  any  king.  80 

If  he  that  undertakes  cannot  resolve  it, 

And  that  these  nymphs  can  have  no  harbour  here 

(It  being  consider'd  that  so  many  Virtues 

Can  never  live  in  Court),  he  shall  resolve 

To  leave  the  Court  and  live  with  them  in  Arden.  85 

Ep,     Pronounce  the  riddle;    I  will  undertake  it. 

Cup.     'Tis  this,  sir. 
Whafs  that  a  fair  lady  most  of  all  likes. 
Yet  ever  makes  show  she  least  of  all  seeks : 
That's  ever  embraced  and  affected  by  her,  90 

Yet  never  is  seen  to  please  or  come  nigh  her : 
Most  served  in  her  night-weeds,  does  her  good  in  a  comer  : 
But  a  poor  man's  thing,  yet  doth  richly  adorn  her  : 
Most  cheap  and  most  dear,  above  all  worldly  pelf. 
That  is  hard  to  get  in,  but  comes  out  of  itself? 

Ep,    Let  me  peruse  it,  Cupid.  95 

Cup,  Here  it  is. 

Ep,    Your  riddle  is  good  fame. 

Cup,    Good  fame  ?  How  make  you  that  good  ? 

Ep,    Good  fame  is  that  a  good  lady  most  likes,  I  am  sure. 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  223 

Cup.    That's  graiit6d.  100 

Ep.    '  Yet  ever  makes  show  she  least  of  all  seeks ' :  for  she 
likes  it  only  for  virtue,  which  is  not  glorious. 

Hen.    That  h<dds  well. 

Ep.    'Tis  '  ever  embraced  and  afiected  by  her '.  for  she 
must  persevere  in  virtue  or  fame  vanishes ;  '  yet  never  is  seen  105 
to  please  or  come  nigh  her ',  for  fame  is  invisible. 

Cup.     Exceeding  right  1 

Ep.     '  Most  served  in  her  night-weeds ',  for  ladies  that 
most  wear  their  night-weeds  come  least  abroad,  and  they  that 
come  least  abroad  serve  fame  most,  according  to  this :  Non  no 
forma,  sed  fama,  in  publicum  exire  debet. 

Hen.     'Tis  very  substantial. 

Ep.     '  Does  her  good  in  a  comer ' — ^that  is,  in  her  most 
retreat  from  the  world  comforts  her ;  '  but  a  poor  man's 
thing ' :  for  every  poor  man  may  purchase  it, '  yet  doth  richly  1 15 
adorn '  a  lady. 

Cup.    That  all  must  grant. 

Ep.  '  Most  cheap,'  for  it  costs  nothing ;  'and  most  dear', 
for  gold  cannot  buy  it ;  '  above  aU  worldly  pelf  ',  for  that's 
transitory,  and  fame  eternal.  'It  is  hard  to  get  in';  that  120 
is,  hard  to  get;  'but  comes  out  of  itself',  for  when  it  is 
virtuously  deserved  with  the  most  inward  retreat  from 
the  world,  it  comes  out  in  spite  of  it.  And  so,  Cupid,  your 
jewel  is  mine. 

Cup.     It  is  :  and  be  the  virtue  of  it  yours. 
We'll  now  turn  to  our  dance,  and  then  attend  125 

Your  Highness'  will,  as  touching  our  resort. 
If  Virtue  may  be  entertain'd  in  Court. 

Hen.    This  show  hath  pleased  me  well  for  that  it  figures 
The  reconcilement  of  my  Queen  and  mistress : 
Come,  let  us  in  and  thank  them,  anQ  prepare  130 

To  entertain  our  trusty  friend  Byron.  Exeunt 

FINIS   ACTUS   SBCUNDI 

ACTUS  III  SCENA  I 
[At  Dijon] 

Enter  Byron,  D'Auvergne 

Byr.     Dear  friend,  we  must  not  be  more  true  to  kings 
Than  kings  are  to  their  subjects ;    there  are  schools 
<Now  broken  ope  in  aU  parts  of  the  world* 


224  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  III 

Fixst  founded  in  ingenious  Italy, 

Where  some  conclusions  of  estate  are  held  5 

That  for  a  day  preserve  a  prince,  and  ever 

Destroy  him  after ;    from  thence  men  are  taught 

To  glide  into  degrees  of  height  by  craft, 

And  then  lock  in  themselves  by  villany : 

But  God  (who  knows  kings  are  not  made  by  art,  10 

But  ri^t  of  Nature,  nor  by  treachery  propp'd. 

But  simple  virtue)  once  let  fall  from  heaven 

A  branch  of  that  green  tree,  whose  root  is  yet 

Fast  fix'd  above  the  stars  ;  which  sacred  branch 

We  well  may  liken  to  that  laurel  spray  15 

That  from  the  heavenly  eagle's  golden  seres 

Fell  in  the  lap  of  great  Augustus'  wife ; 

Which  spray,  once  set,  grew  up  into  a  tree 

Whereof  were  garlands  made,  and  emperors 

Had  their  estates  and  foreheads  crown'd  with  them ;  20 

And  as  the  arms  of  that  tree  did  decay 

The  race  of  great  Augustus  wore  away ; 

Nero  being  last  of  that  imperial  line. 

The  tree  and  Emperor  together  died. 

Religion  is  a  branch,  first  set  and  blest  25 

By  Heaven's  high  finger  in  the  hearts  of  kings. 

Which  whilom  grew  into  a  goodly  tree ; 

Bright  angels  sat  and  sung  upon  the  twigs. 

And  royal  branches  for  the  heads  of  kings 

Were  twisted  of  them  ;    but  since  squint-eyed  Envy  30 

And  pale  Suspicion  dash'd  the  heads  of  kingdoms 

One  gainst  another,  two  abhorred  twins. 

With  two  foul  tails,  stem  War  and  Liberty, 

Enter'd  the  world.    The  tree  that  grew  from  heaven 

Is  overrun  with  moss ;    the  cheerful  music  35 

That  heretofore  hath  sounded  out  of  it 

Begins  to  cease;    and  as  she  casts  her  leaves,. 

By  small  degrees  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 

Decline  and  wither ;    and  look,  whensoever 

That  the  pure  sap  in  her  is  dried-up  quite,  40 

The  lamp  of  all  authority  goes  out, 

And  all  the  blaze  of  princes  is  extinct. 

Thus,  as  the  poet  sends  a  messenger 

Out  to  the  stage  to  show  the  sum  of  all 

That  follows  after,  so  are  kings'  revolts  45 

And  playing  both  ways  ¥rith  religion 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  225 

Fore-ninneis  of  afflictioiis  imminent. 

Which  (like  a  Chorus)  subjects  must  lament. 

D*Auu,    My  lord,  I  stand  not  on  these  deep  discourses 
To  settle  my  course  to  your  fortunes ;  mine  50 

Are  freely  and  inseparably  link'd. 
And  to  your  love,  my  life. 

Byr,  Thanks,  princely  friend  ; 

And  whatsoever  good  shall  come  of  me, 
Pursu'd  by  all  the  Catholic  Princes'  aids 
With  whom  I  join,  and  whose  whole  states  propos'd  55 

To  win  my  valour,  promise  me  a  throne. 
All  shall  be,  equal  with  myself,  thine  own. 

[Enter  La  Brunei] 

La  Brun.    My  lord,  here  is  D'Escures,  sent  from  the  King. 
Desires  access  to  you. 
Byr,  Attend  him  in. 

Enter  D'Escures 

D*Es,    Health  to  my  lord  the  Duke  I 

Byr.  Welcome,  D'Escures  1    60 

In  what  health  rests  our  royal  Sovereign  ? 

D*Es.    In  good  health  of  his  body,  but  his  mind 
Is  something  troubled  with  the  gathering  storms 
Of  foreign  powers,  that,  as  he  is  inform'd, 
Address  themselves  into  his  frontier  towns;  65 

And  therefore  his  intent  is  to  maintain 
The  body  of  an  army  on  those  parts. 
And  yield  their  worUiy  conduct  to  your  valour. 

Byr.    From  whence  hears  he  that  any  storms  are  rising  ? 

D'Es.    From  Italy ;  and  his  intelligence  70 

No  doubt  is  certain,  that  in  all  those  parts 
Levies  are  hotly  made ;  for  which  respect, 
He  sent  to  his  ambassador,  de  Vic, 
To  make  demand  in  Switzerland  for  the  raising 
With  utmost  diligence  of  six  thousand  men,  75 

An  which  shall  be  conmianded  to  attend 
On  your  direction,  as  tiie  Constable, 
Your  honour'd  gossip,  gave  him  in  advice. 
And  he  sent  you  by  writing;  of  which  letters 
He  would  have  answer  and  advice  from  you  80 

By  your  most  speedy  presence. 
Byr.  This  is  strange, 

C.D.W.  Q 


226  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  III 

That  when  the  enemy  is  t'attempt  his  frontiers 

He  calls  me  from  the  frontiers ;  does  he  think 

It  is  an  action  worthy  of  my  valour 

To  turn  my  back  to  an  approaching  foe  ?  85 

D*Es.    The  foe  is  not  so  near  but  you  may  come, 
And  take  more  strict  directions  from  his  Highness 
Than  he  thinks  fit  his  letters  should  contain, 
Without  the  least  attainture  of  your  valour. 
And  therefore,  good  my  lord,  forbear  excuse,  90 

And  bear  yourself  on  his  direction, 
Who,  well  you  know,  hath  never  made  design 
For  your  most  worthy  service  where  he  saw 
That  an3rthing  but  honour  could  succeed. 

Byr,     I  will  not  come,  I  swear. 

D'Es.  I  know  your  Grace        95 

Will  send  no  such  unsavoury  reply. 

Byr.    Tell  him  that  I  beseech  his  Majesty 
To  pardon  my  repair  till  th'  end  be  known 
Of  all  these  levies  now  in  Italy. 

D*Es,    My  lord,  I  know  that  tale  will  never  please  him,  100 
And  wish  you,  as  you  love  his  love  and  pleasure, 
To  satisfy  his  summons  speedily. 
And  speedily  I  know  he  will  return  you. 

Byr.    By  heaven,  it  is  not  fit,  if  aJl  my  service 
Makes  me  know  anything :  beseech  him,  therefore,  105 

To  trust  my  judgment  in  these  doubtful  charges. 
Since  in  assur'd  assaults  it  hath  not  fail'd  him. 

D'Es.     I  would  your  lordship  now  would  trust  his  judg- 
ment. 

Byr.    God's  precious,  y'are  importunate  past  measure, 
And,  I  know,  further  than  your  charge  extends.  no 

I'll  satisfy  his  Highness,  let  that  serve ; 
For  by  lliis  flesh  and  blood,  you  shall  not  bear 
Any  reply  to  him  but  this  from  me. 

D*Es.     'Tis  nought  to  me,  my  lord ;  I  wish  your  good. 
And  for  that  cause  have  been  importunate.  115 

Exit  D'Escures 

La  Brun.     By  no  means  go,  my  lord  ;   but,  with  distrust 
Of  all  that  hath  been  said  or  can  be  sent. 
Collect  your  friends,  and  stand  upon  your  guard ; 
The  King's  fair  letters  and  his  messages 

Are  only  golden  pills,  and  comprehend  120 

Horrible  purgatives. 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  227 

Byr.  I  will  not  go. 

For  now  I  see  th'  instructions  lately  sent  me 
That  something  is  discover'd  are  too  true, 
And  my  head  rules  none  of  those  neighbour  nobles 
That  every  pursuivant  brings  beneath  the  axe :  125 

If  they  bring  me  out,  they  shall  see  I'll  hatch 
Like  to  the  blackthorn,  that  puts  forth  ^his  leaf. 
Not  with  the  golden  fawnings  of  the  sun, 
But  sharpest  showers  of  hail,  and  blackest  frosts : 
Blows,  batteries,  breaches,  showers  of  steel  and  blood,         130 
Must  be  his  downright  messengers  for  me. 
And  not  the  mizzling  breath  of  pc^cy ; 
He,  he  himself,  made  passage  to  his  crown 
Through  no  more  armies,  battles,  massacres 
Than  I  will  ask  him  to  arrive  at  me.  135 

He  takes  on  him  my  executions ; 
And  on  the  demolitions,  that  this  arm 
Hath  shaken  out  of  forts  and  citadels. 
Hath  he  advanc'd  the  trophies  of  his  valour ; 
Where  I,  in  those  assumptions,  may  scorn  140 

And  speak  contemptuously  of  ail  the  world. 
For  any  equal  yet  I  ever  foimd ; 
And  in  my  rising,  not  the  Sirian  star 
That  in  the  Lion's  mo[n]th  undaunted  shines.' 
And  makes  his  brave  ascension  with  the  sun,  145 

Was  of  th'  Egyptians  with  more  zeal  beheld,    " 
And  made  a  rule  to  know  the  circuit 
And  compass  of  the  year,  than  I  was  held 
When  I  appear'd  from  battle,  the  whole  sphere 
And  full  sustainer  of  the  state  we  bear;  150 

I  have  Alddefr-like  gone  under  th'  earth, 
And  on  these  shoulders  borne  the  weight  of  France : 
And  for  the  fortunes  of  the  thankless  King, 
My  father,  all  know,  set  him  in  his  throne. 
And,  if  he  urg^  ine,  I  may  pluck  him 'out.  -  155 

Enter  Messenger 

Mes.    Here  is  the  President  Janin,  my  lord, 
Sent  from  the  King,  and  urgeth  qrlick  access. 

Byr,    Another  puzBuivatit,  and  one  so  qvick  ? 
He  takes  next  course  with  me  to  make  him  stay: 
Bat  let  him  in,  let's  hoes  what  he  importones.  160 


228  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  III 

lExit  La  Bnmel],  ^ntsr  Janin 

Jan.    Honour  and  loyal  hopes  to  Duke  Bjrron  I 

Byr.    No  other  touch  me :  say  how  fares  the  King  ? 

Jan.    Fairly,  my  lord  ;  the  cloud  is  yet  far  off 
That  aims  at  his  obscuring,  and  his  will 

Would  gladly  give  the  motion  to  your  powers  165 

That  should  disperse  it;  but  the  means  himself 
Would  personally  relate  in  your  direction. 

Byr.    Still  on  that  haunt  ? 

Jan,  Upon  my  life,  my  lord, 

He  much  desires  to  see  you  ;  and  your  sight 
Is  now  grown  necessary  to  suppress  17P 

(As  with  the  glorious  splendour  of  the  sun) 
The  rude  winds  that  report  breathes  in  his  ears. 
Endeavouring  to  blast  your  loyalty. 

Byr.    Sir,  if  my  loyalty  stick  in  him  no  faster 
But  that  the  light  breath  of  report  may  loose  it,  175 

So  I  rest  still  unmov'd,  let  him  be  shaken. 

Jan.    But  these  aloof  abodes,  my  lord,  bewray. 
That  there  is  rather  firmness  in  3rour  breath 
Than  in  your  heart.    Truth  is  not  made  of  glass, 
That  with  a  small  touch  it  should  fear  to  break,  ^80 

And  therefore  should  not  shun  it ;  believe  me 
His  arm  is  long,  and  strong ;  and  it  can  fetch 
Any  within  his  will,  that  will  not  come : 
Not  he  that  surfeits  in  his  mines  of  gold. 
And  for  the  pride  thereof  compares  with  God,  185 

Calling  (with  almost  nothing  different) 
His  powers  invincible,  for  omnipotent. 
Can  back  your  boldest  fort  gainst  his  assaults: 
It  is  his  pride,  and  vain  ambition. 

That  hath  but  two  stairs  in  his  high  design^-*-  190 

The  lowest,  envy,  and  the  highest,  blood—- 
That  doth  abuse  you,  and  gives  minds  too  high 
Rather  a  will  by  giddiness  to  fall 
Than  to  descend  by  judgment. 

Byr.  1  rdy 

On  no  man's  back  nor  belly ;  but  the  King  195 

Must  think  that  merit,  by  ingratitude  crad^'d^ 
Requires  a  firmer  cementing  than  words. 
•And  he  shall  find  it. a  oauch  harder  work. 
To  solder  broken  hearts  than  shiver'd  glass. 


Sc.  X]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  229 

Jan.    lAy  lord,  'tis  better  hold  a  Sovereign's  love  200 

By  bearing  injuries,  than  by  laying  oat 
Stir  his  displeasure;  princes'  discontents. 
Being  once  incens'd,  are  like  the  flames  of  Etna, 
Not  to  be  quench'd,  nor  lessen'd;  and,  be  sure, 
A  subject's  confidence  in  any  merit  205 

Against  his  Sovereign,  that  makes  him  presume 
To  fly  too  high,  approves  him  like  a  cloud 
That  makes  a  show  as  it  did  hawk  at  kingdoms, 
And  could  command  all  rais'd  beneath  his  vapour : 
When  suddenly,  the  fowl  that  hawk'd  so  fiur,  210 

Stoops  in  a  puddle,  or  consumes  in  air. 

Byr.    I  fly  with  no  such  aim,  nor  am  oppos'd 
Against  my  Sovereign ;  but  the  worthy  height 
I  have  wrought  by  my  service  I  will  hold. 
Which,  if  I  come  away,  I  cannot  do ;  215 

For  if  the  enemy  should  invade  the  frontier. 
Whose  charge  to  guard  is  mine,  with  any  spoil. 
Although  the  King  in  placing  of  another 
Might  well  excuse  me,  yet  all  foreign  kings. 
That  can  take  note  of  no  such  secret  quittance,  220 

Will  lay  the  weakness  here,  upon  my  wants ; 
And  therefore  my  abode  is  resolute, 

Jan,     I  sorrow  for  your  resolution. 
And  fear  your  dissolution  will  succeed. 

Byr.    I  must  endure  it. 

Jan.  Fare  you  well,  my  lord  I  225 

Exit  Janin 

Enter  La  Brunei 

Byr.    FareweU  to  yon  I 
Captain,  what  other  news  ? 

La  Brun.  La  Fin  salutes  you.     [Giving  letters] 

Byr.    Welcome,  good  friend ;   I  hope  your  vrish'd  arrival 
Will  give  some  certain  end  to  our  designs. 

La  Brun.    I  know  not  that,  my  lord  ;  reports  are  rais'd    230 
So  doubtful  and  so  different,  that  the  truth 
Of  any  one  can  hardly  be  assur'd. 

Byr.    Good  news,  D'Auvergne  ;  our  trusty  friend  La  Fki 
Halii  clear'd  all  scruple  with  his  Majesty, 
And  utter'd  nothing  but  what  serv'd  to  clear  235 

All  bad  suggestions. 

La  Brun.  So  he  says,  my  lord; 


230  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  III 

But  others  say  La  Pin's  assurances 

Are  mere  deceits,  and  wish  you  to  believe 

That»  when  the  Vidame,  nephew  to  La  Fin, 

Met  you  at  Autun  to  assure  your  doubts  240 

His  unde  had  said  nothing  to  the  King 

That  might  ofEend  you,  all  the  journey's  charge 

The  King  defray'd ;  besides,  your  tmest  friends 

Will'd  me  to  make  you  certain  that  your  place 

Of  government  is  otherwise  disposed ;  245 

And  all  advise  you,  for  your  latest  hope. 

To  make  retreat  into  the  Franche-Comt6. 

Byr.    I  thank  them  all,  but  they  touch  not  the  depth 
Of  the  affairs  betwixt  La  Fin  and  me. 

Who  is  retum'd  contented  to  his  house,  250 

Quite  freed  of  all  displeasure  or  distrust ; 
And  therefore,  worthy  friends,  we'll  now  to  Court. 

D'Auv.    My  lord,  I  like  your  other  friends'  advices 
Much  better  than  La  Fin's ;  and  on  my  life 
You  cannot  come  to  Court  with  any  safety.  255 

Byr.    Who  shall  infringe  it  ?    I  know  all  the  Court 
Have  better  apprehension  of  my  valour 
Than  that  they  dare  lay  violent  hands  on  me ; 
If  I  have  only  means  to  draw  this  sword, 
I  shall  have  power  enough  to  set  me  free  260 

From  seizure  by  my  proudest  enemy. 

Exit  [Byron  wM  ik^  others] 


[SCENA   II 
A  Room  in  the  Courfl 

Enter  Epemon,  Vitry,  Pr&lin 

Ep.    He  will  not  come,  I  dare  engage  my  hand. 

Vit.    He  will  be  fetch'd  then,  I'U  engage  my  head. 

Prd.    Come,  or  be  fetch'd,  he  quite  hath  lost  his  honoar 
In  giving  these  suspicions  of  revolt 

From  his  allegiance ;  that  which  he  hath  won  5 

With  sundry  wounds,  and  peril  of  his  life, 
With  wonder  of  his  wisdom  and  his  valour. 
He  loseth  with  a  most  enchanted  glory. 
And  admiration  of  his  pride  and  folly. 

Vit.    Why,  did  you  never  see  a  fortunate  man  10 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  231 

Suddenly  rais'd  to  heaps  of  wealth  and  honour. 

Nor  any  rarely  great  in  gifts  of  nature 

(As  valour,  wit,  and  smooth  use  of  the  tongue 

Set  strangely  to  the  pitch  of  popular  likings), 

But  with  as  sudden  falls  the  rich  and  honoured  15 

Were  overwhelm'd  by  poverty  and  shame. 

Or  had  no  use  of  both  above  the  wretched  ? 

Ep,    Men  ne'er  are  satisfied  with  that  they  have ; 
But  as  a  man  match'd  with  a  lovely  wife 
When  his  most  heavenly  theory  of  her  beauties  20 

Is  dull'd  and  quite  exhausted  with  his  practice. 
He  brings  her  forth  to  feasts,  where  he,  alas  I 
Falls  to  his  viands  ¥n.th  no  thought  like  others 
That  think  him  blest  in  her;  and  they,  poor  men. 
Court,  and  make  faces,  offer  service,  sweat  25 

With  their  desires'  contention,  break  their  brains 
For  jests  and  tales,  sit  mute  and  lose  their  looks 
(Far  out  of  wit,  and  out  of  countenance) : 
So  all  men  else  do,  what  they  have,  transplant. 
And  place  their  wealth  in  thirst  of  what  they  want.  30 

Enter  Henry,  Chancellor,  the  Vidame,  D'Escures,  Janin 

Hen,    He  will  not  come  :  I  must  both  grieve  and  wonder, 
That  all  my  care  to  win  my  subjects'  love 
And  in  one  cup  of  friendship  to  commix 
Our  lives  and  fortunes,  should  leave  out  so  many 
As  give  a  man  (contemptuous  of  my  love  35 

And  of  his  own  good  in  the  kingdom's  peace) 
Hope,  in  a  continuance  so  ungrateful. 
To  bear  out  his  designs  in  spite  of  me. 
How  should  I  better  please  all  than  I  do  ? 
When  they  suppos'd  I  would  have  given  some  40 

Insolent  garrisons,  others  citadels. 
And  to  all  sorts  increase  of  miseries, 
Province  by  province  I  did  visit  all 
Whom  those  injurious  rumours  had  dis[m]ay'd. 
And  shoVd  them  how  I  never  sought  to  build  45 

More  forts  for  me  than- were  within  their  hearts. 
Nor  use  more  stem  constraints  than  their  good  wills 
To  succour  the  necessities  of  my  crown ; 
That  I  desir'd  to  add  to  their  contents 
By  all  occasions  rather  than  subtract;  50 


232  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  HI 

Nor  wish'd  I  that  my  treasuzy  should  flow 

With  gold  that  swum  in,  in  my  subjects'  tears ; 

And  then  I  found  no  man  that  did  not  bless 

My  few  years'  reign,  and  their  triumphant  peace; 

And  do  they  now  so  soon  complain  of  ease  ?  55 

He  will  not  come  1 

Enter  Byron,  D'Auvergne,  brother,  with  others 

Ep.  O  madness,  he  is  come  i 

Chan.    The  Duke  is  come,  my  lord. 

Hen.  Oh  sir,  y'are  wdcome. 

And  fitly,  to  conduct  me  to  my  house. 

Byr.    I  must  beseech  your  Majesty's  excuse, 
That,  jealous  of  mine  honour,  I  have  us'd  60 

Some  of  mine  own  commandment  in  my  stay, 
And  came  not  with  your  Highness'  soonest  summons. 

Hen.    The  faithful  servant,  right  in  Holy  Writ, 
That  said  he  would  not  come  and  yet  he  came : 
But  come  you  hither,  I  must  tell  you  now  65 

Not  the  contempt  you  stood  to  in  your  stay. 
But  the  bad  ground  that  bore  up  your  contempt, 
Makes  you  arrive  at  no  port  but  repentance. 
Despair,  and  ruin. 

Byr.  Be  what  port  it  will, 

At  which  your  will  will  make  me  be  arrived,  70 

I  am  not  come  to  justify  myself. 
To  ask  you  pardon,  nor  accuse  my  friends. 

Hen.    If  you  conceal  my  enemies,  you  are  one ; 
And  then  my  pardon  shall  be  worth  your  asking, 
Or  else  your  head  be  worth  my  cutting  off.  75 

Byr.     Being  friend  and  worthy  fautor  of  myself, 
I  am  no  foe  of  yours,  nor  no  impairer. 
Since  he  can  no  way  worthily  maintain 
His  prince's  honour  that  neglects  his  own ; 
And  if  your  will  have  been,  to  my  true  reason,  80 

(Maintaining  stOl  the  truth  of  loyalty) 
A  check  to  my  free  nature  and  mine  honour. 
And  that  on  your  free  justice  I  presum'd 
To  cross  your  will  a  little,  I  conceive 
You  will  not  think  this  forfeit  worth  my  head.  85 

Hen.     Have  you  maintain'd  your  trutibi  of  loyalty. 
When,  since  I  pardon'd  foul  intentions 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  233 

(Resolving  to  forget  eternally 

What  they  appeared  in,  and  had  welcom'd  you 

As  the  kind  father  doth  his  riotous  son),  90 

I  can  approve  facts  fouler  than  th'  intents 

Of  deep  disloyalty  and  highest  treason  ? 

Byr.    May  this  right  hand  be  thunder  to  my  breast, 
If  I  stand  guilty  of  the  slend'rest  fact 

Wherein  the  least  of  those  two  can  be  proved,  95 

For  could  my  tender  conscience  but  have  touch'd 
At  any  such  unnatural  relapse, 
I  would  not  with  this  confidence  have  run 
Thus  headlong  in  the  furnace  of  a  wrath 
Blown  and  thrice  kindled,  having  way  enough  100 

In  my  election  both  to  shun  and  slight  it. 

Hen.    Y'are  grossly  and  vaingloriously  abus'd ; 
There  is  no  way  in  Savoy  nor  in  Spain 
To  give  a  fool  that  hope  of  your  escape; 
And  had  you  not,  even  when  you  did,  arrived,  105 

With  horror  to  the  proudest  hope  you  had 
I  would  have  fetch'd  you. 

Byr.  You  must  then  have  us'd 

A  power  beyond  my  knowledge,  and  a  will 
Beyond  your  justice.    For  a  little  stay 

More  than  I  us'd  would  hardly  have  been  worthy  1x0 

Of  such  an  open  expedition ; 
In  which  to  all  the  censures  of  the  world 
My  faith  and  innocence  had  been  foully  foil'd ; 
Which,  I  protest  by  heaven's  bright  witnesses 
That  shine  ^,  far,  from  mixture  with  our  fears,  1x5 

Retain  as  perfect  roundness  as  their  spheres. 

Hen.    'Tis  well,  my  lord  ;  I  thought  I  could  have  frighted 
Your  firmest  confidence :  some  other  time 
We  will,  as  now  in  private,  sift  your  actions, 
And  pour  more  than  you  think  into  the  sieve,  X20 

Always  reserving  clemency  and  pardon 
Upon  confession,  be  you  ne'er  so  foul. 
Come,  let's  clear  up  our  brows :  shall  we  to  tennis  ? 

Byr.    Ay,  my  lord,  if  I  may  make  the  match. 
The  Duke  Epemon  and  myself  will  play  125 

With  you  and  Count  Soissons. 

Ep.  I  know,  my  lord. 

You  play  well,  but  you  make  your  matches  ill. 

Hen.    Come,  'tis  a  match  Exit 


I 


234  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  IV 

Byr.     [To  Epemon]  How  like  you  my  axrivai  ? 

Ep.     I'll  tell  3rou  as  your  friend  in  your  ear. 
You  have  given  more  preferment  to  your  courage  130 

Than  to  the  provident  counsels  of  your  friends. 

D'Auv,    I  told  him  so,  my  lord,  and  much  was  griev'd 
To  see  his  bold  approach,  so  full  of  will. 

Byr,    Well,  I  must  bear  it  now,  though  but  with  th'  head. 
The  shoulders  bearing  nothing. 

Ep.  By  Saint  John,  135 

'Tis  a  good  headless  resolution.  Exeunt 


ACTUS  IV  SCENA   I 
[A  Room  in  the  Courf] 

Byron,  D'Auvergne 

Byr.    O  the  most  base  fruits  of  a  settled  peace  i 
In  men  I  mean,  worse  than  their  dirty  fields. 
Which  they  manure  much  better  than  themselves : 
For  them  they  plant  and  sow,  and  ere  they  grow 
Weedy  and  chok'd  with  thorns,  they  grub  and  proin,  5 

And  make  them  better  tiian  when  cruel  war 
Frighted  from  thence  the  sweaty  labourer ; 
But  men  themselves,  instead  of  bearing  fruits. 
Grow  rude  and  foggy,  overgrown  ¥rith  weeds. 
Their  spirits  and  freedoms  smother'd  in  their  ease ;  10 

And  as  their  tyrants  and  their  ministers 
Grow  wild  in  prosecution  of  their  lusts. 
So  they  grow  prostitute,  and  he,  like  whores, 
Down,  and  take  up,  to  their  abhorr'd  dishonours ; 
The  friendless  may  be  injur'd  and  oppress'd,  15 

The  guiltless  led  to  slaughter,  the  deserver 
Given  to  the  beggar,  right  be  wholly  wrong'd. 
And  wrong  be  only  honour'd,  till  the  strings 
Of  every  man's  heart  crack;  and  who  will  stir 
To  tell  authority  that  it  doih.  err  ?  20 

All  men  cling  to  it,  though  they  see  their  bloods 
In  their  most  dear  associates  and  allies, 
Pour'd  into  kennels  by  it,  and  who  dares 
But  look  well  in  the  breast  whom  that  impairs  ? 
How  all  the  Court  now  looks  askew  on  me  I  25 

Go  by  without  saluting,  shun  my  sight. 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S    TRAGEDY  235 

Which,  like  a  March  sun.  agues  breeds  in  them. 
From  whence  of  late  'twas  health  to  have  a  beam. 

D'Auv.    Now  none  will  speak  to  us  ;  we  thrust  ourselves 
Into  men's  companies,  and  offer  speech  30 

As  if  not  made  for  their  diverted  ears. 
Their  backs  tum'd  to  us,  and  their  words  to  others. 
And  we  must,  like  obsequious  parasites. 
Follow  their  faces,  wind  about  their  persons  - 
For  looks  and  answers,  or  be  cast  behind,  35 

No  more  view'd  than  the  wallet  of  the^r  faults. 

Enter  Soissons 

Byr.    Yet  here's  one  views  me,  and  I  think  will  speak. 

Sois.    My  lord,  if  you  respect  your  name  and  race. 
The  preservation  of  your  former  honours. 
Merits,  and  virtues,  humbly  cast  them  all  40 

At  the  King's  mercy ;    for  beyond  all  doubt 
Your  acts  have  thither  driven  them ;   he  hath  proofs 
So  pregnant  and  so  horrid,  that  to  hear  them 
Would  make  your  valour  in  your  very  looks 
Give  up  your  forces,  nuserably  guilty ;  45 

But  he  is  most  loatii  (for  his  ancient  love 
To  your  rare  virtues,  and  in  their  impair. 
The  full  discouragement  of  all  that  live 
To  trust  or  favour  any  gifts  in  nature) 

T'expose  them  to  the  light,  when  darkness  may  50 

Cover  her  own  brood,  and  keep  still  in  day 
Nothing  of  you  but  that  may  brook  her  brightness : 
You  know  what  horrors  these  high  strokes  do  bring 
Rais'd  in  the  arm  of  an  incensed  king. 

Byr,    My  lord,  be  sure  the  King  cannot  complain  55 

Of  anything  in  me  but  my  true  service. 
Which,  in  so  many  dangers  of  my  death. 
May  so  approve  my  spotless  loyalty 
That  those  quite  opposite  horrors  you  assure 
Must  look  out  of  his  own  ingratitude,  60 

Or  the  malignant  envies  of  my  foes, 
Who  pour  me  out  in  such  a  Stygian  flood. 
To  drown  me  in  myself,  since  tiieir  deserts 
Are  fax  from  such  a  deluge,  and  in  me 
Hid  like  so  many  rivers  in  the  sea.  65 

Sots:    You  thijnk  I  come  to  sound  you  :   fare  you  well. 

Exit 


236  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  IV 

Enter  Chancellor,  Epemon,  Janin,  the  Vidame,  Vitry,   Prdiin, 

whispering  by  couples,  etc, 

D'Auv.    See,  see,  not  one  of  them  will  cast  a  glance 
At  onr  eclipsed  faces. 

Byr,  They  keep  all 

To  cast  in  admiration  on  the  King ; 
For  from  his  face  are  all  their  faces  moulded.  70 

D'Auv,    But  when  a  change  comes  we  s^iall  see  them  all 
Chang'd  into  water,  that  will  instantly 
Give  look  for  look,  as  if  it  watch'd  to  greet  us ; 
Or  else  for  one  they'll  give  us  twenty  faces. 
Like  to  the  little  specks  on  sides  of  glasses.  75 

Byr.    Is't  not  an  easy  loss  to  lose  their  looks 
Whose  hearts  so  soon  are  melted  ? 

D'Auv.  But  methinks. 

Being  courtiers,  they  should  cast  best  looks  on  men 
When  they  thought  worst  of  them. 

Byr.  O  no,  my  lord! 

They  ne'er  dissemble  but  for  some  advantage ;  80 

They  sell  their  looks  and  shadows,  which  they  rate 
After  their  markets,  kept  beneath  the  State ; 
Lord,  what  foul  weather  their  aspects  do  threaten  I 
See  in  how  grave  a  brake  he  sets  his  vizard ; 
Passion  of  nothing,  see,  an  excellent  gesture  1  85 

Now  courtship  goes  a-ditching  in  their  foreheads. 
And  we  are  fall'n  into  those  dismal  ditches. 
Why  even  thus  dreadfully  would  they  be  rapt. 
If  the  King's  butter'd  eggs  were  only  spilt. 

Enter  Henry 

Hen.    Lord  Chancellor! 

Chan.  Ay,  my  lord  ! 

Hen.  And  Lord  Vidame!    90 

Exit  [Henry  with  the  Chancellor  and  the  Vidame] 
Byr.    And  not  Byron  ?  Here's  a  prodigious  change  1 
D'Auv,    He  cast  no  beam  on  you. 
Byr.  Why,  now  you  see 

From  whence  their  coimtenances  were  copied. 

Efvter  the  Captain  of  Byron's  guard,  with  a  letter 

D'Auv.    See,  here  comes  some  news,  I  believe,  my  lord. 
Byr.    What  says  the  honest  Captain  of  my  guard  ?  95 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  237 

Cap,    I  bring  a  letter  from  a  Mend  of  youiB. 

Byr.    'Tis  welcome,  then. 

D'Auv,  Have  we  yet  any  friends  ? 

Cap.    More  than  ye  would,  I  think ;    I  never  saw 
Men  in  their  right  minds  so  tmrighteous 
In  their  own  causes. 

Byr.  [showing  the  letUr]    See  what  thou  hast  brought.         100 
He  wills  us  to  retire  ourselves  my  lord. 
And  makes  as  if  it  were  almost  too  late. 
What  says  my  captain  ?  Shall  we  go,  or  no  ? 

Cap,    I  would  your  dagger's  point  had  kiss'd  my  heart. 
When  you  resolv'd  to  come. 

Byr,  I  pray  thee,  why  ?  105 

Cap,    Yet  doth  that  senseless  apoplexy  dull  yoo  ? 
The  devil  or  your  wicked  angel  blinds  you, 
Bereaving  all  your  reason  of  a  man. 
And  leaves  you  but  the  spirit  of  a  horse 
In  your  brute  nostrils,  only  power  to  dare.  izo 

Byr,    Why,  dost  thou  thiuk  my  coming  here  hath  brought 
me 
To  such  an  unrecoverable  danger  ? 

Cap,    Judge  by  the  strange  ostents  that  have  succeeded 
Since  your  arrival ;   the  kind  fowl,  the  wild  duck. 
That  came  into  your  cabinet  so  beyond  115 

The  sight  of  aU  your  servants,  or  yourself. 
That  flew  about,  and  on  your  shoulder  sat, 
And  which  y6u  had  so  fed  and  so  attended 
For  that  dumb  love  she  showed  you,  just  as  soon 
As  you  were  parted,  on  the  sudden  died.  120 

And  to  make  this  no  less  than  an  ostent, 
Another,  that  hath  fortun'd  since,  ccmfirms  it : 
Your  goodly  horse,  Pastrana,  which  the  Archduke 
Gave  you  at  Brussels,  in  the  very  hour 

You  left  your  strength,  fell  mad,  and  kill'd  himself ;  125 

The  like  chanc'd  to  the  horse  the  Great  Duke  sent  you ; 
And,  with  both  these,  the  horse  the  Duke  of  Lorraine 
Sent  you  at  Vimy,  made  a  third  presage 
Of  some  inevitable  fate  that  touch'd  you. 
Who,  like  the  other,  pin'd  away  and  died.  130 

Byr,    All  these  together  are  indeed  ostentful* 
Which,  by  another  like,  I  can  confirm : 
The  matchless  Earl  of  Essex,  whom  some  make 
(la  their  most  sure  divinings  of  my  death) 


238  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  IV 

A  parallel  with  me  in  life  and  fortune,  135 

Had  one  horse,  likewise,  that  the  very  hour 

He  sufEer'd  death  (being  well  the  night  before), 

Died  in  his  pasture.     Noble,  happy  beasts. 

That  die,  not  having  to  their  wills  to  live ; 

They  use  no  deprecations  nor  complaints,  140 

Nor  suit  for  mercy ;    amongst  them,  the  lion 

Serves  not  the  lion,  nor  the  horse  the  horse. 

As  man  serves  man  :    when  men  show  most  their  spirits 

In  valour,  and  their  utmost  dares  to  do 

They  are  compared  to  lions,  wolves,  and  boars ;  145 

But,  by  conversion,  none  will  say  a  lion 

Fights  as  he  had  the  spirit  of  a  man. 

Let  me  then  in  my  danger  now  give  cause 

For  all  men  to  begin  that  simile. 

For  all  my  huge  engagement  I  provide  me  150 

This  short  sword  only,  which,  if  I  have  time 

To  show  my  apprehender,  he  shall  use 

Power  of  ten  lions  if  I  get  not  loose.  [Exeunt] 

[SCENA  II 

Anothsr  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Henry,  Chancellor,  the  Vidame,  Janin,  Vitry,  Pr41in 

Hen.    What  shall  we  do  with  this  unthankful  man  ? 
Would  he  of  one  thing  but  reveal  the  truth, 
Which  I  have  proof  of,  underneath  his  hand. 
He  should  not  taste  my  justice.    I  would  give 
Two  hundred  thousand  crowns  that  he  would  3deld  5 

But  such  means  for  my  pardon  as  he  should ; 
I  never  lov'd  man  like  him ;    would  have  trusted 
My  son  in  his  protection,  and  my  realm: 
He  hath  deserv'd  my  love  with  worthy  service. 
Yet  can  he  not  deny  but  I  have  thrice  xo 

Sav'd  him  from  death ;    I  drew  him  ofE  the  foe . 
At  Fountaine  Fran9oi8e,  where  he  was  engaged. 
So  wounded,  and  so  much  amas'd  with  blows. 
That,  as  I  playM  the  soldier  in  his  rescue, 
I  was  enforc'd  to  play  the  Marshal                        r  ^5 

To  order  the  retkieat,  because  he  said 
He  was  not  fit  to  do  it,  nor  to  serve  me.  «  -  >  • 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  239 

Chan.    Your  Majesty  hath  us'd  your  utmost  means 
Both  by  your  own  perraasions  and  his  friends 
To  bring  him  to  submission,  and  confess  20 

With  some  sign  of  repentance  his  foul  fault ; 
Yet  still  he  stands  prefract  and  insolent. 
You  have,  in  love  and  care  of  his  recovery. 
Been  half  in  labour  to  produce  a  course 

And  resolution  that  were  fit  for  him ;  25 

And  since  so  amply  it  concerns  your  crown, 
You  must  by  law  cut  off  what  by  your  grace 
You  cannot  bring  into  the  state  of  safety. 

Jan.    Begin  at  th'  end,  my  lord,  and  execute, 
like  Alexander  with  Parmenio.  30 

Princes,  you  Imow,  are  masters  of  their  laws. 
And  may  resolve  them  to  what  forms  they  please. 
So  all  conclude  in  justice ;   in  whose  stroke 
There  is  one  sort  of  manage  for  the  great. 
Another  for  inferior :   the  great  mother  35 

Of  all  productions,  grave  Necessity, 
Commands  the  variation ;  and  the  profit. 
So  certainly  foreseen,  commends  the  example. 

H&n.    I  like  not  executions  so  informal, 
For  which  my  predecessors  have  been  blam'd :  40 

My  subjects  and  the  world  shall  know  my  power 
And  my  authority  by  law's  usual  course 
Dares  punish,  not  the  devilish  heads  of  treason. 
But  their  confederates,  be  they  ne'er  so  dreadful. 
The  decent  ceremonies  of  my  laws  45 

And  their  solemnities  shall  be  observed 
With  all  their  sternness  and  severity. 

Vii.    Where  will  your  Highness  have  him  apprehended  ? 

Hen.    Not  in  the  Castle,  as  some  have  advis'd. 
But  in  his  chamber. 

Prd.  Rather  in  your  own,  50 

Or  coming  out  of  it ;  for  'tis  assur'd 
That  any  other  place  of  apprdiension 
Will  make  the  hard  performance  end  in  blood. 

Vit    To  shun  this  likelihood,  my  lord,  'tis  best 
To  make  the  apprehension  near  your  chamber ;  55 

For  aU  respect  and  reverence  given  the  place. 
More  than  is  needful  to  chastise  the  person 
And  save  the  opening  of  too  many  veins. 
Is  vain  and  dangerous. 


240  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  IV 

H0H.  Gather  you  your  guard* 

And  I  will  find  fit  time  to  give  the  word  60 

When  you  shall  seize  on  him  and  on  D'Auvergne. 

Vit,    We  will  be  ready  to  the  death,  my  lord. 

Exeunt  [a//  bui  Henry] 

Hen,    O  Thou  that  govem'st  the  keen  swords  of  kings. 
Direct  my  arm  in  this  important  stroke. 

Or  hold  it  being  advanc'd ;   the  weight  of  blood,  65 

Even  in  the  basest  subject,  doth  exact 
Deep  consultation  in  the  highest  king; 
For  in  one  subject  death's  unjust  afbrights. 
Passions,  and  pains,  though  he  be  ne'er  so  poor. 
Ask  more  remorse  than  the  voluptuous  spleens  70 

Of  all  kings  in  the  world  deserve  respect : 
He  should  be  bom  grey-headed  that  will  bear 
The  sword  of  empire ;    judgment  of  the  life. 
Free  state,  and  reputation  of  a  man. 

If  it  be  just  and  worthy,  dwells  so  daxk  75 

That  it  denies  access  to  sun  and  moon ; 
The  soul's  eye  sharpened  with  that  sacred  light 
Of  whom  the  sun  itself  is  but  a  beam. 
Must  only  give  that  judgment.    O  how  much 
Err  those  kings,  then,  that  play  with  life  and  death,  80 

And  nothing  put  into  their  serious  states 
But  humour  and  their  lusts,  for  which  alone 
Men  long  for  kingdoms ;    whose  huge  counterpoise 
In  cares  and  dangers  could  a  fool  comprise. 
He  would  not  be  a  king,  but  would  be  wise.  85 

Enter  Byron  talking  with  the  Queen,  Epemon,  D'Entragues, 
D'Auvergne,  with  another  lady,  [Montigny  and\  others 
attending. 

Here  comes  the  man,  with  whose  ambitious  head 

(Cast  in  the  way  of  treason)  we  must  stay 

His  full  chase  of  our  ruin  and  our  realm ; 

This  hour  shall  take  upon  her  shady  wings 

His  latest  liberty  and  life  to  hell.  90 

D'Auv,  [aside  to  Byron]    We  are  undone  I 

[Exit  D'Auvergne] 

Queen.  What's  that  ? 

Byr.  I  heard  him  not. 

Hen,    Madam,  y'are  honour'd  much  that  Duke  Bynni 
Is  so  observant :  some  to  cards  with  him ; 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  241 

Yon  four,  as  now  you  come,  sit  to  primero ; 

And  I  will  fight  a  battle  at  the  chess.  95 

Byr,    A  good  safe  fight,  believe  me ;    other  war 
Thirsts  blood  and  wounds  ;  and,  his  thirst  quench'd,  is  thank- 
less. 
[Byron,  The  Queen,  Epemon  and  Montigny  play  tU  cantds] 

Ep,    Lift,  and  then  cut. 

Byr.  'Tis  right  the  end  of  lifting  ; 

When  men  are  lifted  to  their  highest  pitch. 
They  cut  off  those  that  lifted  them  so  high.  100 

Qfuen,    Apply  you  all  these  sports  so  seriously  ? 

Byr,    They  first  were  from  our  serious  acts  devis'd. 
The  best  of  which  are  to  the  best  but  sports 
(I  mean  by  best  the  greatest),  for  their  ends. 
In  men  that  serve  them  best,  are  their  own  pleasures.         105 

Queen,    So  in  those  best  men's  services  their  ends 
Are  their  own  pleasures.     Passl 

Byr,  I  vie't. 

Hen,  [aside],  I  see't. 

And  wonder  at  his  frontless  impudence. 

Exit  Henry. 

Chan,    [To  the  Queen]    How  speeds  your  Majesty  ? 

Queen,  Well ;    the  Duke  instructs  me 

With  such  grave  lessons  of  mortality  no 

Forc'd  out  of  our  light  sport  that,  if  I  lose, 
I  cannot  but  speed  weU. 

Byr,  Some  idle  talk. 

For  courtship'  sake,  you  know,  does  not  amiss. 

Chan,    Would  we  might  hear  some  of  it, 

Byr,  That  you  shall ; 

I  cast  away  a  card  now,  makes  me  think  115 

Of  the  deceased  worthy  King  of  Spain. 

Chan,    What  card  was  that  ? 

Byr,  The  King  of  Hearts,  my  lord ; 

Whose  name  yields  well  the  memory  of  that  king. 
Who  was  indeed  the  worthy  king  of  hearts. 
And  had  both  of  his  subjects'  hearts  and  strangers'  120 

Much  more  than  aU  the  kings  of  Christendom. 

Chan,    He  won  them  with  his  gold. 

Byr.  He  won  them  chiefly 

With  his  so  general  piety  and  justice ; 
And  as  the  little,  yet  great,  Macedon 
Was  said  with  his  humane  philosophy  125 

cj>.w.  a 


242  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  IV 

To  teach  the  rapefnl  Hyrcans  marriage, 

And  bring  the  barbarous  Sogdians  to  nourish, 

Not  kill  their  aged  parents  as  before ; 

Th'  incestuous  Persians  to  reverence 

Their  mothers,  not  to  use  them  as  their  wives ;  130 

The  Indians  to  adore  the  Grecian  gods ; 

The  Scythians  to  inter,  not  eat  their  parents ; 

So  he,  with  his  divine  philosophy 

(Which  I  may  call  his,  since  he  chiefly  us'd  it) 

In  Turkey,  India,  and  through  all  the  world,  135 

Expell'd  profane  idolatry,  and  from  earth 

Rais'd  temples  to  the  Highest :   whom  with  the  Word 

He  could  not  win,  he  justly  put  to  sword. 

Chan.    He  sought  for  gold  and  empire. 

Byr,  Twas  rdigionp 

And  her  full  propagation,  that  he  sought ;  140 

If  gold  had  been  his  end,  it  had  been  hoarded. 
When  he  had  fetch'd  it  in  so  many  fleets. 
Which  he  spent  not  on  Median  luxury. 
Banquets,  and  women,  Calydonian  wine. 

Nor  dear  Hyrcanian  fishes,  but  employed  it  145 

To  propagate  his  empire ;    and  his  empire 
Desir'd  t'  extend  so  that  he  might  withal 
Extend  religion  through  it,  and  aU  nations 
Reduce  to  one  firm  constitution 

Of  piety,  justice,  and  one  pubhc  weal ;  150 

To  which  end  he  made  all  his  matchless  subjects 
Make  tents  their  castles  and  their  garrisons ; 
True  Catholics,  countrymen  and  their  allies; 
Heretics,  strangers  and  their  enemies. 
There  was  in  him  the  magnanimity —  155 

Mont.    To  temper  your  extreme  applause,  my  lord. 
Shorten  and  answer  all  things  in  a  word. 
The  greatest  commendation  we  can  give 
To  the  remembrance  of  that  king  deceased 
Is  that  he  spar'd  not  his  own  eldest  son,  160 

But  put  him  justly  to  a  violent  death. 
Because  he  sought  to  trouble  his  estates. 

Byr.     Is't  so  ? 

Chan,  [aside  to  Montigny.    That  bit,  my  lord,  upon  my 
life; 
Twas  bitterly  replied,  and  doth  amaze  him. 


Sc  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  243 

The  King  suddenly  enters,  having  determined  what  to  do 

Hen.    It  is  riesolv'd  ;    a  work  shall  now  be  done,  165 

Which,  while  leam'd  Atlas  shall  with  stars  be  crown'd, 
While  th'  Ocean  walks  in  stonns  his  wavy  round, 
WhUe  moons,  at  fvOl,  repair  their  broken  rings. 
While  Lucifer  foreshows  Aurora's  springs, 
And  Arctos  sticks  above  the  earth  unmov'd,  170 

Shall  make  my  realm  be  blest,  and  me  belov'd. 
Call  in  the  Count  d'Auvergne. 

Enter  D'Auvergne 

A  word,  my  lord  I 
VnH  you  become  as  wilful  as  your  friend. 
And  draw  a  mortal  justice  on  your  heads. 
That  hangs  so  black  and  is  so  loath  to  strike  ?  175 

If  you  would  utter  what  I  know  you  know 
Of  his  inhuman  treason,  one  strong  bar 
Betwixt  his  will  and  duty  were  dissolv'd. 
For  then  I  know  he  would  submit  himsdf . 
Think  you  it  not  as  strong  a  point  of 'faith  180 

To  rectify  your  loyalties  to  me. 
As  to  be  trusty  in  each  other's  wrong  ? 
Trust  that  deceives  ourselves  i[s]  treachery. 
And  truth,  that  truth  conceals,  an  open  Ue. 

D'Auv.    My  lord,  if  I  could  utter  any  thought  185 

Instructed  with  disloyalty  to  you, 
And  might  light  any  safety  to  my  friend. 
Though  mine  own  heart  came  after,  it  should  out. 

Hen.    1  know  you  may,  and  that  your  faiths  affected 
To  one  another  are  so  vain  and  false  190 

That  your  own  strengths  will  ruin  you  :    ye  contend 
To  cast  up  rampires  to  you  in  the  sea. 
And  strive  to  stop  the  waves  that  run  before  you. 

D'Auv.    AU  this,  my  lord,  to  me  is  [mystery]. 

Hen.    It  is  ?     I'll  make  it  plain  enough,  believe  me  I       195 
Come,  my  Lord  Chancellor,  let  us  end  our  mate. 

Enter  Varennes,  whispering  to  Byron 

Var.    Yon  are  undone,  my  lord.      Exit 
Byr.  Is  it  possible  ? 

Queen.    Play,  good  my  lord  :   whom  look  you  for  ? 
Ep.  Your  mind 

Is  not  upon  yoar  game. 


244  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  IV 

Byr,  Play,  pray  you  play ! 

Hen.    Enough,  'tis  late,  and  time  to  leave  our  play         200 
On  all  hands ;  all  forbear  the  room  !  [Exeunt  all  but  B3rron 

and  Henry]    My  lord. 
Stay  you  with  me ;    yet  is  your  will  resolved 
To  duty  and  the  main  bond  of  your  life  ? 
I  swear,  of  all  th'  intrusions  I  have  made 
Upon  your  own  good  and  continued  fortunes,  205 

This  is  the  last;    inform  me  yet  the  truth. 
And  here  I  vow  to  you  (by  all  my  love, 
By  all  means  shown  you  even  to  this  extreme. 
When  aU  men  else  forsake  you)  you  are  safe. 
What  passages  have  slipp'd  'twixt  Count  Fuentes,  210 

You,  and  the  Duke  of  Savoy  ? 

Byr,  Good  my  lord. 

This  nail  is  driven  already  past  the  head. 
You  much  have  overcharg'd  an  honest  man; 
And  I  beseech  you  yield  my  innocence  justice. 
But  with  my  single  valour,  gainst  them  all  215 

That  thus  have  poisoned  your  opinion  of  me. 
And  let  me  take  my  vengeance  by  my  sword ; 
For  I  protest  I  never  thought  an  action 
More  "ttian  my  tongue  hath  utter'd. 

Hen,  Would  'twere  true  I 

And  that  your  thoughts  and  deeds  had  fell  no  fouler,         220 
But  you  disdain  submission,  not  rememb'ring» 
That  (in  intents  urg'd  for  the  common  good) 
He  that  shall  hold  his  peace,  being  charg'd  to  speak. 
Doth  all  the  peace  and  nerves  of  empire  break; 
Which  on  your  conscience  lie.    Adieu,  good-night  1      Exit  225 

Byr,    Kings  hate  to  hear  what  they  command  men  speak  ; 
Ask  life,  and  to  desert  of  death  ye  yield  : 
Where  medicines  loathe,  it  irks  men  to  be  heal'd. 

Enter  Vitry,  with  two  or  three  of  the  Guard,  Epemon,  the 
Vidame,  following,    Vitry  lays  hand  on  Bjrron's  sward, 

Vit.    Resign  your  sword,  my  lord  ;  the  King  commands  it. 

Byr,    Me  to  resign  my  sword  ?     What  king  is  he  230 

Halli  us'd  it  better  for  the  realm  than  I  ? 
My  sword,  that  all  the  wars  within  the  length. 
Breadth,  and  the  whole  dimensions  of  great  France, 
Hath  sheath'd  betwixt  his  hilt  and  horrid  point,. 


Sc  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  245 

And  fix'd  ye  all  in  such  a  flonrishing  peace  I  235 

My  sword,  that  never  enemy  could  enforce, 
Bereft  me  by  my  friends  1    Now,  good  my  lord, 
Beseech  the  King  I  may  resign  my  sword 
To  his  hand  only. 

Enter  Janin 

Jan.     [To  VUry]    You  must  do  your  office. 
The  King  commands  yon. 

Vii,  'Tis  in  vain  to  strive.  240 

For  I  must  force  it. 

Byr,  Have  I  ne'er  a  friend. 

That  bears  another  for  me  ?    All  the  guard  ? 
What,  will  you  kill  me,  will  you  smother  here 
His  life  that  can  command  and  save  in  field 
A  hundred  thousand  lives  ?     For  manhood  sake  245 

Lend  something  to  this  poor  forsaken  hand ; 
For  all  my  service  let  me  have  the  honouir 
To  die  defendiug  of  my  innocent  self. 
And  have  some  little  space  to  pray  to  God. 


•f 


Enter  Henry 

Hen,    Come,  you  are  an  atheist,  Byron,  and  a  traitor     250 
Both  foul  and  damnable.    Thy  innocent  self  t 
No  leper  is  so  buried  quick  ia  ulcers 
As  thy  corrupted  soul.    Thou  end  the  war, 
And  settle  peace  in  France  1    What  war  hath  rag'd 
Into  whose  fury  I  have  not  expos'd  255 

My  person  [wi-^]  as  free  a  spirit  as  thine  ? 
Thy  worthy  father  and  thyself  combined 
And  arm'd  in  all  the  merits  of  your  valours. 
Your  bodies  thrust  amidst  the  liiickest  fights. 
Never  were  bristled  with  so  many  battles,  260 

Nor  on  the  foe  have  broke  such  woods  of  lances 
As  grew  upon'  my  thigh,  and  I  have  marshalled — 
I  am  asham'd  to  brag  thus ;    [but]  where  Envy 
And  Arrogance  their  opposite  bulwark  raise. 
Men  are  allow'd  to  use  their  proper  prs^e.  263 

Away  with  him.  Exit  Henry 

Byr.  Away  with  him  ?   live  I, 

And  hear  my  life  thus  slighted  ?    Cursed  man, 
That  ever  the  intelligencing  lights 


246  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  IV 

Betray'd  me  to  men's  whorish  fellowships. 

To  princes'  Moorish  slaveries,  to  be  made  270 

The  anvil  on  which  only  blows  and  wounds 

Were  made  the  seed  and  wombs  of  otheis'  honours ; 

A  property  for  a  tyrant  to  set  up 

And  puff  down  witii  the  vapour  of  his  breath. 

Will  you  not  kill  me  ? 

Vit.  No,  we  will  not  hurt  you ;  275 

We  are  commanded  only  to  conduct  you 
Into  your  lodging. 

Byr,  To  my  lodging  ?    Where  ? 

Vit.    Within  the  Cabinet  of  Arms,  my  lord. 

Byr,    What,  to  a  prison  ?    Death  1    I  will  not  go. 

Vit.    We'll  force  you  then. 

Byr,  And  take  away  my  sword  ;  280 

A  proper  point  of  force ;    ye  had  as  good 
Have  robb'd  me  of  my  soul,  slaves  of  my  stars 
Partial  and  bloody  1    O  that  in  mine  eyes 
Were  all  the  sorcerous  poison  of  my  woes 
That  I  might  witch  ye  headlong  from  your  height,  283 

And  trample  out  your  execrable  light. 

Vit.    Come,  will  you  go,  my  lord  ?    This  rage  is  vain. 

Byr,    And  so  is  all  your  grave  authority; 
And  that  all  France  shall  feel  before  I  die. 
Ye  see  all  how  they  use  good  Catholics  1  290 

[Exit  B3rron  guarded] 

Ep,    Farewell  for  ever  1    So  have  I  discem'd 
An  exhalation  that  would  be  a  star 
FaU,  when  the  sun  forsook  it,  in  a  sink. 
Sho[w]s  ever  overthrow  that  are  too  large, 
And  hugest  cannons  burst  with  overcharge.  295 

Enter  D'Auvergne,  Pr&lin,  following  with  a  Guard 

Prd,    My  lord,  I  have  commandment  from  the  King 
To  charge  you  go  with  me,  and  ask  your  sword. 
D'Auv,    My   sword  ?  Who  fears  it  ?    It  was  ne'er  the 
death 
Of  any  but  wild  boars.     I  prithee  take  it ; 
HadM  thou  advertis'd  this  when  last  we  met,  300 

I  had  been  in  my  bed,  and  fast  asleep 
Two  hours  ago ;   lead,  I'll  go  where  thou  wilt. 

EMit  fgHordedl 


So  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  247 

Vid.    See  how  he  bears  his  cross  with  his  small  strength 
On  easier  shoulders  than  the  other  Atlas. 

Ep,    Strength  to  aspire  is  still  accompanied  305 

With  weakness  to  endure ;    aU  popular  gifts 
Are  colours  [that]  wiU  bear  no  vinegar, 
And  rather  to  adverse  afiairs  betray 
Thine  arm  against  them :    his  state  still  is  best 
That  hath  most  inward  worth ;    and  that's  best  tried  310 

That  neither  glories^  nor  is  glorified.  Ejfeunt 


ACTUS  V  SCENA   I 
[The  Council  Chamber] 

Enter  Henry»  Soissons,  Janin,  D'Escures,  cum  aliis 

Hen,    What  shall  we  think,  my  lords,  of  these  new  forces 
That  from  the  King  of  Spain  hath  pass'd  the  Alps  ? 
For  which,  I  think,  his  Lord  Ambassador 
Is  come  to  Court  to  get  their  pass  for  Flanders  ? 

Jan.    I  think,  my  lord,  they  have  no  end  for  Flanders ;      5 
Coimt  Maurice  being  already  enter'd  Brabant 
To  pass  to  Flanders,  to  relieve  Ostend, 
And  th'  Archduke  full  prepared  to  hinder  him ; 
And  sure  it  is  that  they  must  measure  forces. 
Which  (ere  this  new  force  could  have  pass'd  the  Alps)  10 

Of  force  must  be  encounter'd. 

Sots.  'Tis  unlikely 

That  their  march  hath  so  large  an  aim  as  Flanders. 

D'Es,    As  these  times  sort,  they  may  have  shorter  reaches, 
That  would  pierce  further. 

Hen.  I  have  been  advertis'd 

How  Count  Fuentes  (by  whose  means  this  army  15 

Was  lately  levied,  and  whose  hand  was  strong 
In  thmstiDg  on  Byron's  conspiracy) 
Hath  caus'd  these  cimning  forces  to  advance 
With  colour  only  to  set  down  in  Flanders ; 
But  hath  intentional  respect  to  favour  20 

And  count'nance  his  false  partisans  in  Bresse 
And  friends  in  Burgundy,  to  give  them  heart 
For  the  full  taking  of  their  hearts  from  me. 
Be  as  it  will ;    we  shall  prevent  their  worst ; 
And  therefore  call  in  Spain's  Ambassador.  25 


248  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [AcxV 

Enter  Ambassador  with  others 

What  would  the  Lord  Ambassador  of  Spain  ? 

Amb.    First,  in  my  master's  name,  I  would  beseech 
Your  Highness'  hearty  thought  that  his  true  hand. 
Held  in  your  vow'd  amities,  hath  not  touch'd 
At  any  least  point  in  Byron's  offence,  30 

Nor  once  had  notice  of  a  crime  so  foul ; 
Whereof,  since  he  doubts  not  you  stand  resolVd, 
He  pra3rs  your  league's  continuance  in  this  favour. 
That  the  army  he  hath  rais'd  to  march  for  Flanders 
May  have  safe  passage  by  your  frontier  towns,  35 

And  find  the  river  free  that  runs  by  Rhone. 

Hen,    My  lord,  my  frontiers  shall  not  be  disarm'd. 
Till,  by  arraignment  of  the  Duke  of  Bjnron, 
My  scruples  are  resolv'd,  and  I  may  know 
In  what  account  to  hold  your  master's  faith  40 

For  his  observance  of  the  league  betwixt  us. 
You  wish  me  to  believe  that  he  is  clear 
From  all  the  projects  caus'd  by  Coimt  Fuentes, 
His  special  agent ;    but  where  deeds  pull  down. 
Words  may  repair  no  faith.     I  scarce  can  think  45 

That  his  gold  was  so  bounteously  employ'd 
Without  his  special  counsel  and  command : 
These  faint  proceedings  in  our  royal  faiths. 
Make  subjects  prove  so  faithless ;   if,  because 
We  sit  above  the  danger  of  the  laws,  50 

We  likewise  lift  our  arms  above  their  justice. 
And  that  our  heavenly  Sovereign  bounds  not  us 
In  those  religious  confines  out  of  which 
Our  justice  and  our  true  laws  are  inform'd. 
In  vain  have  we  expectance  that  our  subjects  55 

Should  not  as  well  presume  to  offend  their  earthly. 
As  we  our  heavenly  Sovereign ;    and  this  breach 
Made  in  the  forts  of  all  society, 
Of  all  celestial,  and  humane  respects. 

Makes  no  strengths  of  our  bounties,  counsels,  arms,  60 

Hold  out  against  their  treasons ;  and  the  rapes 
Made  of  humanity  and  religion. 
In  all  men's  more  than  Pagan  liberties, 
Atheisms,  and  slaveries,  will  derive  their  Springs 
From  their  base  precedents,  copied  out  of  kings;  65 

But  all  this  shaU  not  make  me  break  the  commerce 


Sc.  I]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  249 

Antfaoris'd  by  our  treaties ;   let  yonr  army 
Take  the  directest  pass ;   it  shall  go  safe. 

Anib,    So  rest  your  Highness  ever,  and  assur'd 
That  my  true  Sovereign  loathes  all  opposite  thoughts.  70 

[Exit  the  Ambassador] 

Hen,    [To  Janin]     Are  our  despatches  made  to  all  the 
kings, 
Princes,  and  potentates  of  Christendom, 
Ambassadors  and  province  governors, 
T'inform  the  truth  of  this  conspiracy  ? 

Jan,    They  all  are  made,  my  lord  ;  and  some  give  out  75 

That  'tis  a  blow  given  to  religion. 
To  weaken  it,  in  ruining  of  him 
That  said  he  never  wish'd  more  glorious  title 
Than  to  be  call'd  the  Scourge  of  Huguenots. 

Sois.    Others  that  are  like  favourers  of  the  fault,  80 

Said  'tis  a  politic  advice  from  England 
To  break  the  sacred  javelins  both  together. 

Hen,    Such  shut  their  eyes  to  truth ;    we  can  but  set 
His  lights  before  them,  and  his  trumpet  sound 
Close  to  their  ears ;    their  partial  wilfulness,  85 

In  resting  blind  and  deaf,  or  in  perverting 
What  their  most  certain  senses  apprdiend. 
Shall  nought  discomfort  our  impiurtial  justice. 
Nor  clear  the  desperate  fault  that  doth  enforce  it. 

Enter  Vitry 

Vit.    The  Peers  of  France,  my  lord,  refuse  t'appear  90 

At  the  arraignment  of  the  Duke  Byron. 

Hen.    The  Court  may  yet  proceed ;   and  so  command  it. 
'Tis  not  their  slackness  to  appear  shall  serve 
To  let  my  will  t'appear  in  any  fact 

Wherein  the  boldest  of  them  tempts  my  justice.  95 

I  am  resolv'd,  and  will  no  more  endure 
To  have  my  subjects  make  what  I  command 
The  subject  of  their  oppositions. 
Who  evermore  slack  their  allegiance, 

As  kings  forbear  their  penance.     How  sustain  100 

Your  prisoners  their  strange  durance  ? 

Vit.  One  of  them. 

Which  is  the  Count  d'Auvergne,  hath  merry  spirits. 
Eats  well  and  sleeps,  and  never  can  imagine 
That  any  place  where  he  is,  is  a  prison ; 
Where,  <mi  the  other  part,  the  Duke  Byron,  105 


250  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ActV 

Enter'd  his  prison  as  into  his  grave. 

Rejects  all  food,  sleeps  not,  nor  once  lies  down ; 

Fury  hath  arm'd  his  thoughts  so  thick  with  thorns 

That  rest  can  have  no  entry :    he  disdains 

To  grace  the  prison  with  the  slend'rest  show  no 

Of  any  patience,  lest  men  should  conceive 

He  thought  his  sufferance  in  the  [least]  sort  fit ; 

And  holds  his  bands  so  worthless  of  his  worth 

That  he  impairs  it  to  vouchsafe  to  them 

The  [least]  part  of  the  peace  that  freedom  owes  it;  115 

That  patience  therein  is  a  willing  slavery. 

And  like  the  camel  stoops  to  take  the  load : 

So  still  he  walks ;    or  rather  as  a  bird^ 

Enter'd  a  closet,  which  unwares  is  made 

His  desperate  prison,  being  pursu'd,  amaz'd  120 

And  wrathful  beats  his  breast  from  wall  to  wall. 

Assaults  the  light,  strikes  down  himself,  not  out, 

And  being  taken,  struggles,  gasps,  and  bites. 

Takes  all  his  taker's  strokings  to  be  strokes, 

Abhorreth  food,  and  with  a  savage  will  125 

Frets,  pines,  and  dies  for  former  liberty : 

So  faxes  the  wrathful  Duke ;    and  when  the  strength 

Of  these  dumb  rages  break  out  into  sounds. 

He  breathes  defiance  to  the  world,  and  bids  us 

Make  ourselves  drunk  with  the  remaining  blood  13O 

Of  five  and  thirty  wounds  receiv'd  in  fight 

For  us  and  ours,  for  we  shall  never  brag. 

That  we  have  made  his  spirits  check  at  death. 

This  rage  in  walks  and  words ;    but  in  his  looks 

He  comments  all  and  prints  a  world  of  books.  135 

Hen.    Let  others  learn  by  him  to  curb  their  spleens. 
Before  they  be  curb'd,  and  to  cease  their  grudges. 
Now  I  am  settled  in  my  sun  of  height, 
The  circular  splendour  and  full  sphere  of  state 
Take  all  place  up  from  envy :    as  the  sun  140 

At  height  and  passive  o'er  the  crowns  of  meii. 
His  beams  difius'd,  and  down-right  pour'd  on  them. 
Cast  but  a  little  or  no  shade  at  all : 
So  he  that  is  advanc'd  above  the  heads 

Of  all  his  emulators  with  high  light  145 

Prevents  their  envies,  and  deprives  liiem  quite. 

ExeufU 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  2$! 

[SCENA   II 
The  Gold&n  Chamber  in  the  Paktce  of  Justice] 

Enter  the  Chancellor,  Haxlay.  Potier,  Fleury,  in  scarlet  gowns. 
La  Fin,  D'Escares,  with  other  officers  of  state 

Chan,    I  wonder  at  the  prisoner's  so  long  stay. 

Har.    I  think  it  may  be  made  a  question 
If  his  impatience  will  let  him  come. 

Pot.    Yes,  he  is  now  well  stay 'd  :  time  and  his  judgment. 
Have  cast  his  passion  and  his  fever  ofE.  5 

Fleu.    His  fever  may  be  past,  but  for  his  passions, 
I  fear  me  we  shall  find  it  spic'd  too  hotly 
With  his  old  powder. 

D'Es,  He  is  sure  come  forth ; 

The  carosse  of  the  Marquis  of  Rosny 

Ckmducted  him  along  to  th'  Arsenal  10 

Close  to  the  river-side ;    and  there  I  saw  him 
Enter  a  barge  cover'd  with  tapestry. 
In  which  the  King's  guards  waited  and  receiv'd  him. 
Stand  by  there,  dear  the  placet 

Chan.  The  prisoner  comes. 

My  Lord  La  Fin,  forbear  your  sight  awhile ;  15 

It  may  incense  the  prisoner,  who  will  know, 
By  your  attendance  near  us,  that  your  hand 
Was  chief  in  his  discovery ;   which,  as  yet, 
I  think  he  doth  not  doubt. 

La  F.  1  will  forbear 

Till  your  good  pleasures  call  me.  Exit  La  Fin 

Hot.  When  he  knows,  20 

And  sees  La  Fin  accuse  him  to  his  face. 
The  Court  I  think  wiU  shake  with  his  distemper. 

Enter  Vitry,  Byron,  with  others  and  a  guard 

Vit.    You  see,  my  lord,  'tis  in  the  Golden  Chamber. 

Byr.    The  Golden  Chamber  1  Where  the  greatest  longs 
Have  thought  them  honour'd  to  receive  a  place,  .  25 

And  I  have  had  it ;    am  I  come  to  stand 
In  rank  and  habit  here  of  men  arraign'd. 
Where  I  have  sat  assistant,  and  been  honour'd 
With  glorious  title  of  the  chiefest  virtuous; 
Where  the  King's  chief  Solicitor  hath  said  30 

There  was  in  France  no  man  that  ever  liv'd 


252  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ActV 

Whose  parts  were  worth  my  imxtation; 

That,  but  mine  own  worth,  I  could  imitate  none : 

And  that  I  made  myself  inimitable 

To  all  that  could  come  after ;    whom  this  Court  35 

Hath  seen  to  sit  upon  the  flower-de-luce 

In  recompence  of  my  renowned  service. 

Must  I  be  sat  on  now  by  petty  judges  ? 

These  scarlet  robes,  that  come  to  sit  and  fight 

Against  my  life,  dismay  my  valour  more  40 

Than  all  tiie  bloody  cassocks  Spain  hath  brought 

To  field  against  it. 

Vit,  To  the  bar,  my  lord  I 

He  salutes  and  stands  to  the  batr 

Hat.    Read  the  indictment  1 

Chan,  Stay,  I  will  invert, 

For  shortness'  sake,  the  form  of  our  proceedings 
And  out  of  all  the  points  the  process  holds,  45 

Collect  five  principal,  with  which  we  charge  yon. 

1.  First  you  conferr'd  with  one,  call'd  Picoti6, 
At  Orleans  bom,  and  into  Flanders  fled. 

To  hold  intelligence  by  him  with  the  Archduke, 

And  for  two  voyages  to  that  effect,  50 

Bestow'd  on  him  five  hundred  fifty  crowns. 

2.  Next  you  held  treaty  with  the  Duke  of  Savoy, 
Without  the  King's  permission ;    offering  him 

All  service  and  assistance  gainst  all  men, 

In  hope  to  have  in  marriage  his  third  daughter.  55 

3.  Thirdly,  you  held  intelligence  with  the  Duke, 
At  taking  in  of  Bourg  and  other  forts ; 
Advising  him,  with  all  your  prejudice. 

Gainst  the  King's  army  and  his  royal  person. 

4.  The  fourth  is,  that  you  would  have  brought  the  King,    60 
Before  Sai^t  Katherine's  fort,  to  be  there  slain ; 

And  to  that  end  writ  to  the  Governor, 

In  which  you  gave  him  notes  to  know  his  Highness. 

5.  Fifthly,  you  sent  La  Fin  to  treat  with  Savoy 

And  with  the  Count  Fuentes  of  more  plots,  65 

Touching  the  ruin  of  the  King  and  reaihn. 

Byr.    All  this,  my  lord,  I  answer,  and  deny. 
And  first  for  Picot6 :   he  was  my  prisoner. 
And  therefore  I  might  well  confer  with  him ; 
But  that  our  conference  tended  to  the  Archduke  70 

Is  nothing  so :   I  only  did  employ  him 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  253 

To  Captain  La  Fortane,  for  the  rednction 

Of  Searre  to  the  service  of  the  King, 

Who  us'd  such  speedy  diligence  therein, 

That  shortly  'twas  assur'd  his  Majesty.  75 

2.  Next,  for  my  treaties  with  the  Duke  of  Savoy, 
Roncas,  his  secretary,  having  made 

A  motion  to  me  for  the  Duke's  third  daughter, 

I  told  it  to  the  'King,  who  having  since 

Given  me  the  understanding  by  La  Force  80 

Of  his  dislike,  I  never  dream'd  of  it. 

3.  Thirdly,  for  my  intelligence  with  the  Duke, 
Advising  him  against  his  Highness'  army : 
Had  this  been  true  I  had  not  undertaken 

Th'  assault  of  Bourg  against  the  King's  opinion,  85 

Having  assistance  but  by  them  about  me ; 
And,  having  won  it  for  him,  had  not  been 
Put  out  of  such  a  government  so  easily. 

4.  Fourthly,  for  my  advice  to  kill  the  King ; 

I  would  beseech  his  Highness'  memory  90 

Not  to  let  slip  that  I  alone  dissuaded 

His  viewing  of  that  fort,  informing  him 

It  had  good  mark-men,  and  he  could  not  go 

But  in  exceeding  danger;  which  advice 

Diverted  him,  the  rather  since  I  said  95 

That  if  he  had  desire  to  see  the  place 

He  should  receive  from  me  a  plot  of  it. 

Offering  to  take  it  with  five  hundred  men, 

And  I  myself  would  go  to  the  assault. 

5.  And  lastly,  for  intelligences  held  100 
With  Savoy  and  Puentes,  I  confess 

That  being  denied  to  keep  the  citadel, 

Which  with  incredible  peril  I  had  got. 

And  seeing  another  honour'd  with  my  spoils, 

I  grew  so  desperate  that  I  found  my  spirit  105 

Enrag'd  to  any  act,  and  wish'd  m3rBelf 

Cover'd  with  blood. 

Chan.  With  whose  blood  ? 

Byr,  With  mine  own  ; 

Wishing  to  live  no  longer,  being  denied. 
With  such  suspicion  of  me  and  set  win 

To  rack  my  furious  htmiour  into  blood.  no 

And  for  two  months'  space  I  did  speak  and  write 
More  than  I  ought,  but  have  done  ever  well ; 


254  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [AcrV 

And  therefore  your  informers  have  been  false. 
And,  with  intent  to  tyrannize,  subom'd. 

Fleu.     What  if  our  witnesses  come  face  to  face,  115 

And  justify  much  more  than  we  allege  ? 

Byr.    They  must  be  hirehngs,  then,  and  men  corrupted. 

Pot.    What  think  you  of  La  Fin  1 

Byr.  I  hold  La  Fin 

An  honour'd  gentleman,  my  friend  and  kinsman. 

Har,    If  he  then  aggravate  what  we  affirm  120 

With  greater  accusations  to  your  face. 
What  will  you  say  ? 

Byr.  I  know  it  cannot  be. 

Chan.    Call  in  my  Lord  La  Fin. 

Byr.  Is  he  so  near. 

And  kept  so  close  from  me  ?    Can  all  the  world 
Make  him  a  treacher  ? 

Enter  La  Fm 

Chan.  I  suppose,  my  lord,  125 

You  have  not  stood  within,  without  the  ear 
Of  what  hath  here  been  urg'd  against  the  Duke; 
If  you  have  heard  it,  and  upon  your  knowledge 
Can  witness  all  is  true  upon  your  soul, 
Utter  your  knowledge. 

La  F.  1  have  heard,  my  lord,  130 

All  that  hath  pass'd  here,  and,  upon  my  soul, 
(Being  charg'd  so  urgently  in  such  a  Court) 
Upon  my  knowledge  I  affirm  all  true ; 
And  so  much  more  as,  had  the  prisoner  lives 
As  many  as  his  years,  would  make  all  forfeit.  135 

Byr.    O  all  ye  virtuous  Powers  in  earth  cmd  heaven 
That  have  not  put  on  hellish  flesh  and  blood. 
From  whence  these  monstrous  issues  are  produc'd» 
That  cannot  bear,  in  execrable  concord 

And  one  prodigious  subject,  contraries ;  140 

Nor  as  the  isle  that,  of  the  world  admir'd. 
Is  sever'd  from  the  worlds  can  cut  yourselves 
From  the  consent  and  sacred  harmony 
Of  life,  yet  live ;  of  honour,  yet  be  honour'd ; 
As  this  extravagant  and  errant  rogue,  145 

From  all  your  fair  decorums  and  just  laws 
Finds  power  t6  do,  and  like  a  loathsome  wen 
Sticks  to  the  face  of  nature  and  this  Court: 


•  .V>  ' 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  255 

Thicken  this  air,  and  tarn  your  plaguy  rage 

Into  a  shape  as  dismal  as  his  sin ;  150 

And  with  some  equal  horror  tear  him  ofiE 

From  sight  and  memory :  let  not  such  a  Court, 

To  whose  fame  all  the  kings  of  Christendom 

Now  laid  their  ears,  so  crack  her  royal  trump. 

As  to  sound  through  it  that  here  vaunted  justice  155 

Was  got  in  such  an  incest.    Is  it  justice 

To  tempt  and  witch  a  man  to  bieak  the  law, 

And  by  that  witch  condemn  him  ?    Let  me  draw 

Poison  into  me  with  this  cursed  air 

If  he  bewitch'd  me  and  transform'd  me  not ;  160 

He  bit  me  by  the  ear,  and  made  me  drink 

Enchanted  waters ;  let  me  see  an  image 

That  utter'd  these  distinct  words :  Thou  shall  dis, 

0  wicked  king ;  and  if  the  Devil  gave  him 

Such  power  upon  an  image,  upon  me  165 

How  might  he  tyrannize  that  by  his  vows 

And  oaths  so  Stygian  had  my  nerves  and  will 

In  more  awe  than  his  own  ?    What  man  is  he 

That  is  so  high  but  he  would  higher  be  ? 

So  roundly  sighted,  but  he  may  be  found  170 

To  have  a  blind  side,  which  by  craft  pursu'd. 

Confederacy,  and  simply  trusted  treason. 

May  wrest  him  past  his  Angel  and  his  reason  ? 

Chan.    Witchcraft  can  never  taint  an  honest  mind. 

Har.    True  gold  will  any  trial  stand  untouch'd.  175 

Pot.    For  colours  that  will  stain  when  they  are  tried. 
The  cloth  itself  is  ever  cast  aside. 

Byr.  Sometimes  the  very  gloss  in  an3rtfaing 
Will  seem  a  stain  ;  the  fault,  not  in  the  light, 
Nor  in  the  guilty  object,  but  our  sight.  180 

My  gloss,  rais'd  from  the  richness  of  my  stuff. 
Had  too  much  splendour  for  the  owly  eye 
Of  politic  and  thankless  royalty ; 

1  did  deserve  too  much  ;  a  pleurisy 

Of  that  blood  in  me  is  the  cause  I  die.  18$ 

Virtue  in  great  men  must  be  small  and  sUght, 

For  poor  stars  rule  where  she  is  exquisite. 

'Tis  tyrannous  and  impious  policy 

To  put  to  death  by  fraud  and  treachery ; 

Sleight  is  then  ro3ral  when  it  makes  men  live  ISK> 

And  if  it  urge  faults,  urgeth  to  forgive. 


256  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  V 

He  must  be  guiltless  that  condemns  tlie  guilty. 

like  things  do  nourish  like,  and  not  destroy  them ; 

Minds  must  be  sound  that  judge  affairs  of  weight. 

And  seeing  hands  cut  corrosives  from  your  sight.  195 

A  lord,  intelligencer  !  Hangman-like  ? 

Thrust  him  from  human  fellowship  to  the  deserts. 

Blow  him  with  curses ;  shall  your  Justice  call 

Treachery  her  father  ?  Would  3rou  wish  her  weig^ 

My  valour  with  the  hiss  of  such  a  viper  ?  200 

\^ntiat  I  hjBtve  done  to  shun  the  mortal  shame 

Of  so  unjust  an  opposition, 

My  envious  stars  cannot  deny  me  this. 

That  I  may  make  my  judges  witnesses. 

And  that  my  wretched  fortunes  have  reserved  205 

For  my  last  comfort :  ye  all  know,  my  lords. 

This  body,  gash'd  with  five  and  thirty  wounds. 

Whose  life  and  death  you  have  in  your  award. 

Holds  not  a  vein  that  hath  not  open'd  been. 

And  which  I  would  not  open  3ret  again  210 

For  you  and  yours ;  this  hand,  that  writ  the  lines 

Alleged  against  me,  hath  enacted  still 

More  good  than  there  it  only  talk'd  of  ill. 

I  must  confess  my  choler  hath  transferred 

My  tender  spleen  to  all  intemperate  speech,  215 

But  reason  ever  did  my  deeds  attend 

In  worth  of  praise,  and  imitation. 

Had  I  borne  any  will  to  let  them  loose, 

I  could  have  flesh'd  them  with  bad  services 

In  England  lately,  and  in  Switzerland ;  220 

There  are  a  hundred  gentlemen  by  name 

Can  witness  my  demeanour  in  the  first. 

And  in  the  last  ambassage  I  adjure 

No  other  testimonies  than  the  Seigneurs 

De  Vic  and  Sillery,  who  amply  know  225 

In  what  sort  and  with  what  fidelity 

I  bore  myself  to  reconcile  and  knit 

In  one  desire  so  many  wills  disjoined. 

And  from  the  King's  allegiance  quite  withdrawn. 

My  acts  ask'd  many  men,  though  done  by  one  ;  230 

And  I  were  but  one  I  stood  for  thousands. 

And  still  I  hold  my  worth,  though  not  my  place: 

Nor  slight  me,  judges,  though  I  be  but  one. 

One  man,  in  one  sole  expedition. 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  257 

Reduc'd  into  th'  imperial  power  of  Rome  235 

Armenia,  Pontus,  and  Arabia, 

S3nia,  Albania,  and  Iberia, 

Conquered  th'  H3rrcanians,  and  to  Caucasus 

His  arm  extended  ;  the  Numidians 

And  Afric  to  the  shores  meridional  240 

His  power  subjected  ;  and  that  part  of  Spain 

Which  stood  from  those  parts  that  Sertorius  rul'd. 

Even  to  the  Atlantic  sea  he  conquered. 

Th'  Albanian  kings  he  from  [their]  kingdoms  chas'd. 

And  at  the  Caspian  sea  their  dwellings  plac'd ;  245 

Of  all  the  eaxih's  globe,  by  power  and  his  advice. 

The  round-^3red  Ocean  saw  him  victor  thrice. 

And  what  shall  let  me,  but  your  cruel  doom. 

To  add  as  much  to  France  as  he  to  Rome. 

And,  to  leave  Justice  neither  sword  nor  word  250 

To  use  against  my  life,  this  senate  knows 

That  what  with  one  victorious  hand  I  took 

I  gave  to  all  your  uses  with  another  ; 

With  this  I  took  and  propp'd  the  falling  kingdom. 

And  gave  it  to  the  King ;  I  have  kept  255 

Your  laws  of  state  from  fire,  and  you  yourselves 

Fix'd  in  this  high  tribunal,  from  whose  height 

The  vengeful  Satumals  of  the  League 

Had  hurl'd  ye  headlong ;  do  ye  then  return 

This  retribution  ?  Can  the  cruel  King,  260 

The  kingdom,  laws,  and  you,  all  sav'd  by  me. 

Destroy  their  saver  ?  What,  ay  me  1  I  did 

Adverse  to  this,  this  damn'd  enchanter  did. 

That  took  into  his  will  my  motion  ; 

And  being  bankrout  both  of  wealth  and  worth,  265 

Pursu'd  with  quarrels  and  with  suits  in  law, 

Fear'd  by  the  kingdom,  threaten'd  by  the  King, 

Would  raise  the  loathed  dunghill  of  his  ruins 

Upon  the  monumental  heap  of  mine ! 

Tom  with  possessed  whirlwinds  may  he  die,  270 

And  dogs  bark  at  his  murtherous  memory. 

Chan,    My  lord,  our  liberal  sufferance  of  your  speech 

Hath  made  it  late,  and  for  this  session 

We  will  dismiss  you  ;  take  him  back,  my  lord  1 

Exit  Vitry  and  Byron 
Har.    You  likewise  may  depart.  Exit  La  Fin 

Chan.  What  resteth  now        275 

&D.W.  8 


258  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ActV 

To  be  decreed  gainst  this  great  prisoner  ? 

A  mighty  merit  and  a  monstrous  crime 

Are  here  concurrent ;  what  by  witnesses 

His  letters  and  instructions  we  have  prov'd. 

Himself  confesseth,  and  excuseth  all  280 

With  witchcraft  and  the  only  act  of  thought. 

For  witchcraft,  I  esteem  it  a  mere  strength 

Of  rage  in  him,  conceiv'd  gainst  his  accuser. 

Who,  being  examined,  hath  denied  it  all. 

Suppose  it  true,  it  made  him  false ;  but  wills  285 

And  worthy  minds  witchcraft  can  never  force. 

And  for  his  thoughts  that  brake  not  into  deeds, 

Time  was  the  cause,  not  will ;  the  mind's  free  act 

In  treason  still  is  judg'd  as  th'  outward  fact. 

If  his  deserts  have  had  a  wealthy  share  290 

In  saving  of  our  land  from  civil  furies, 

Manlius  had  so  that  sav'd  the  Capitol; 

Yet  for  his  after  traitorous  factions 

They  threw  him  headlong  from  the  place  he  sav'd. 

My  definite  sentence,  then,  doth  this  import :  295 

That  we  must  quench  the  wild-fire  with  his  blood 

In  which  it  was  so  traitorously  inflam'd ; 

Unless  with  it  we  seek  to  incense  the  land. 

The  King  can  have  no  refuge  for  his  life. 

If  his  be  quitted ;  this  was  it  that  made  300 

Louis  th'  Eleventh  renounce  his  countrymen. 
And  call  the  valiant  Scots  out  of  their  kingdom 
To  use  their  greater  virtues  and  their  faiths 
Than  his  own  subjects  in  his  royal  guard. 
What  then  conclude  your  censures  ? 
Omnes.  He  must  die.  305 

Chan.    Draw  then  his  sentence  formally,  and  send  him ; 
And  so  all  treasons  in  his  death  attend  him.  Exeunt 

[SCENA   III 
Byron's  Cell  in  the  BasHle] 

Enter  Byron,  Epemon,  Soissons,  Janin,  the  Vidame,  D'Escures 

Vid,    I  joy  you  had  so  good  a  day,  my  lord. 

Byr.    I  won  it  from  them  all ;  the  Chancellor 

I  answer'd  to  his  uttennost  improvements ; 


*  — » 


Sa  3]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  259 

I  mov'd  my  other  judges  to  lament 

My  insolent  misfortunes,  and  to  loathe  5 

The  pocky  soul  and  state-bawd,  my  accuser. 

I  made  reply  to  all  that  could  be  said. 

So  eloquently  and  with  such  a  charm 

Of  grave  enforcements,  that  methought  I  sat 

Like  Orpheus  casting  reins  on  savage  beasts ;  10 

At  the  arm's  end,  as  'twere,  I  took  my  bar 

And  set  it  far  above  the  high  tribtmal, 

Where,  like  a  cedar  on  Mount  Lebanon, 

I  grew,  and  made  my  judges  show  like  box-trees ; 

And  box-trees  right  their  wishes  would  have  made  them,     15 

Whence  boxes  should  have  grown,  till  they  had  strook 

My  head  into  the  budget ;  but,  alas  1 

I  held  their  bloody  arms  with  such  strong  reasons. 

And,  by  your  leave,  with  such  a  jerk  of  wit. 
That  I  fetch'd  blood  upon  the  Chancellor's  cheeks.  20 

Methinks  I  see  his  countenance  as  he  sat. 
And  the  most  lawyerly  deUvery 
Of  his  set  speeches ;  shall  I  play  his  part  ? 
Ep,    For  heaven's  sake,  good  my  lord  ! 
Byr.  I  wiU,  i'  faith  I 

'  Behold  a  wicked  man,  a  man  debauch'd,  25 

A  man  contesting  with  his  King,  a  man 
On  whom,  my  lord,  we  are  not  to  connive, 
Though  we  may  condole ;  a  man 
That,  lasa  majestaU,  sought  a  lease 

Of  plus  quam  satis.    A  man  that  vi  ei  armis  30 

Assail'd  the  King,  and  would  per  fcLs  ei  nefas 
Aspire  the  kingdom \    Here  was  lawyer's  learning! 
Ep,    He  said  not  this,  my  lord,  that  I  have  heard. 
Byr,    This,  or  the  like,  I  swear  I    I  pen  no  speeches. 
Sois.    Then  there  is  good  hope  of  your  wish'd  acquittal.     35 
Byr,    Acquittal  ?  They  have  reason ;  were  I  dead 
I  know  they  cannot  aU  supply  my  place. 
Is't  possible  the  King  should  be  so  vain 
To  think  he  can  shake  me  with  fear  of  death  ? 
Or  make  me  apprehend  that  he  intends  it  ?  40 

Thinks  he  to  make  his  firmest  men  his  clouds  ? 
The  clouds,  observing  their  atrial  natures, 
Are  borne  aloft,  and  then,  to  moisture  [cjhang'd. 
Fall  to  the  earth ;  where  being  made  thick  and  cold. 
They  lose  both  all  their  heat  and  levity;  45 


26o  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ActV 

Yet  then  again  recovering  heat  and  lightness, 

Again  they  are  advanced,  and  by  the  sun 

Made  fresh  and  glorious ;  and  since  clouds  are  rapt 

With  these  uncertainties,  now  up,  now  down. 

Am  I  to  flit  so  with  his  smile  or  frown  ?  50 

Ep,    I  wish  your  comforts  and  encouragements 
May  spring  out  of  your  safety ;  but  I  hear 
The  Iting  hath  reason'd  so  against  your  life. 
And  made  your  most  friends  yield  so  to  his  reasons 
That  your  estate  is  fearful. 

Byr.  Yield  t'  his  reasons  ?  55 

0  how  friends'  reasons  and  their  freedoms  stretch 
When  Power  sets  his  wide  tenters  to  their  sides  I 
How  like  a  cure,  by  mere  opinion. 

It  works  upon  our  blood  I  Like  th'  ancient  gods 
Are  modem  kings,  that  liv'd  past  bounds  themselves,  60 

Yet  set  a  measure  down  to  wretched  men ; 
By  many  sophisms  they  made  good  deceit. 
And,  since  liiey  pass'd  in  power,  surpass'd  in  right ; 
When  kings'  wUls  pass,  the  stars  wii^  and  the  sun 
Suffers  eclipse ;  rude  thunder  3delds  to  them  65 

His  horrid  wings,  sits  smooth  as  glass  eng[l]az'd ; 
And  lightning  sticks  'twixt  heaven  and  earth  amas'd : 
Men's  faiths  are  shaken,  and  the  pit  of  Truth 
O'erflows  with  darkness,  in  which  Justice  sits. 
And  keeps  her  vengeance  tied  to  make  it  fierce ;  70 

And  when  it  comes,  th'  increased  horrors  show, 
Heaven's  plague  is  sure,  though  full  of  state,  and  slow. 
Sister.  {Within.)  O  my  dear  lord  and  brother !  O  the  Duke  I 
Byr,    What  sounds  are  these,  my  lord  ?  Hark,  hark,  me- 
thinks 

1  hear  the  cries  of  people  1 

Ep.  'Tis  for  one,  75 

Wounded  in  fight  here  at  Saint  Anthony's  gate : 

Byr.     'Sfoot,  one  cried  '  the  Duke '  1     I  pray  harken 
Again,  or  burst  yourselves  with  silence — ^nol 
What  countryman's  the  common  headsman  here  ? 

Sois.    He's  a  Burgonian. 

Byr.  The  great  devil  he  is  1  80 

The  bitter  wizard  told  me  a  Burgonian 
Should  be  my  headsman — strange  concurrences. 
'Sdeath,  who's  here  ?  , 


Sc.  3]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  261 

Enter  four  Ushexs  bare,  Chancdlor,  Harlay,  Poiier,  Floury, 

Vitry,  Pr&lin,  with  others 

O  then  I  am  but  dead, 
Now,  now  ye  come  all  to  pronounce  my  sentence. 
I  am  condemned  unjustly  ;  tell  my  kinsfolks  85 

I  die  an  innocent ;  if  any  friend 
Pity  the  ruin  of  the  State's  sustainer. 
Proclaim  my  innocence;  ah.  Lord  Chancellor, 
Is  there  no  pardon,  will  there  come  no  mercy  ? 
Ay,  put  your  hat  on,  and  let  me  stand  bare.  90 

Show  yourself  right  a  lawyer. 

Chan.  I  am  bare  ; 

What  would  you  have  me  do  ? 

Byr.  You  have  not  done 

Like  a  good  Justice,  and  one  that  knew 
He  sat  upon  the  precious  blood  of  virtue ; 
Y'ave  pleas'd  the  cruel  King,  and  have  not  borne  95 

As  great  regard  to  save  as  to  condemn ; 
You  have  condemned  me,  my  Lord  Chancellor, 
But  God  acquits  me ;  He  will  open  lay 
All  your  close  treasons  against  Him  to  colour 
Treasons  laid  to  His  truest  images ;  100 

And  you,  my  lord,  shall  answer  this  injustice 
Before  his  judgment-seat :  to  which  I  summon 
In  one  year  and  a  day  your  hot  appearance. 
I  go  before,  by  men's  corrupted  dooms; 

But  they  that  caus'd  my  death  shall  after  come  105 

By  the  immaculate  justice  of  the  Highest. 

Chan,    Well,  good  my  lord,  commend  your  soul  to  Him 
And  to  His  mercy ;  think  of  that,  I  pray  1 

Byr,    Sir,  I  have  thought  of  it,  and  every  hour 
Since  my  affliction  ask'd  on  naked  knees  no 

Patience  to  bear  your  unbeliev'd  injustice : 
But  you,  nor  none  of  you,  have  thought  of  Him 
In  my  eviction :  y'are  come  to  your  benches 
With  plotted  judgments ;  your  link'd  ears  so  loud 
Sing  with  prejudicate  winds  that  nought  is  heard  115 

Of  all  poor  prisoners  urge  gainst  your  award. 

Har,     Passion,  my  lord,  transports  your  bitterness 
Beyond  all  colour  and  your  proper  judgment : 
No  man  hath  known  your  merits  mare  than  I, 
And  would  to  God  your  great  misdeeds  had  been  120 


262  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  V 

As  much  undone  as  they  have  been  conceal'd ; 

The  cries  of  them  for  justice,  in  desert, 

Have  been  so  loud  and  piercing  that  they  deafen'd 

The  ears  of  Mercy ;  and  have  laboured  more 

Your  judges  to  compress  than  to  enforce  them.  125 

Pot    We  bring  you  here  your  sentence  ;  will  you  read  it  ? 

Byr,     For  Heaven's  sake,  shame  to  use  me  wi^  such  rigour ; 
I  know  what  it  imports,  and  will  not  have 
Mine  ear  blown  into  flames  with  hearing  it. 
\To  Fleury]  Have  you  been  one  of  them  that  have  condemn'd 

me  ?  130 

Fleu,    My  lord,  I  am  your  orator ;  God  comfort  you  I 

Byr,  Good  sir,  my  father  lov'd  you  so  entirely 
That  if  you  have  been  one,  my  soul  forgives  you. 
It  is  the  King  (most  childish  that  he  is. 

That  takes  what  he  hath  given)  that  injures  me :  135 

He  gave  grace  in  the  first  draught  of  my  fault. 
And  now  restrains  it :  grace  again  I  ask ; 
Let  him  again  vouchsafe  it:  send  to  him, 
A  post  will  soon  return :  the  Queen  of  England 
Told  me  that  if  the  wilful  Earl  of  Essex  140 

Had  us'd  submission,  and  but  ask'd  her  mercy. 
She  would  have  given  it  past  resumption. 
She  like  a  gracious  princess  did  desire 
To  pardon  him,  even  as  she  pray'd  to  God 
He  would  let  down  a  pardon  unto  her;  145 

He  yet  was  guilty,  I  am  innocent: 
He  still  refused  grace,  I  importune  it. 

Chan,    This  ask'd  in  time,  my  lord,  while  he  besought  it, 
And  ere  he  had  made  his  severity  known. 
Had  with  much  joy  to  him,  I  know,  been  granted.  150 

Byr,    No,  no,  his  bounty  then  was  misery, 
To  offer  when  he  knew  'twould  be  refus'd ; 
He  treads  the  vulgar  path  of  all  advantage. 
And  loves  men  for  his  vices,  not  for  their  virtues. 
My  service  would  have  quicken'd  gratitude  155 

In  his  own  death,  had  he  been  truly  royal ; 
It  would  have  stirr'd  the  image  of  a  king 
Into  perpetual  motion  to  have  stood 
Near  the  conspiracy  restrain'd  at  Mantes, 
And  in  a  danger,  that  had  then  the  wolf  160 

To  fly  upon  his  bosom,  had  I  only  held 
Intelligence  with  the  conspirators. 


Sa  3]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  263 

Who  stuck  at  no  check  but  my  loyalty. 

Nor  kept  life  in  their  hopes  but  in  my  death. 

The  siege  of  Amiens  would  have  soften'd  rocks,  165 

Where,  cover'd  all  in  showers  of  shot  and  fire, 

I  seem'd  to  all  men's  eyes  a  fighting  flame 

With  bullets  cut  in  fashion  of  a  man, 

A  sacrifice  to  valour,  impious  king  1 

Which  he  will  needs  extinguish  with  my  blood.  170 

Let  him  beware :  justice  will  fall  from  heaven 

In  the  same  form  I  served  in  that  siege. 

And  by  the  light  of  that  he  shall  discern 

What  good  my  ill  hath  brought  him ;  it  will  nothing 

Assure  his  state ;  the  same  quench  he  hath  cast  175 

Upon  my  life,  shall  quite  put  out  his  fame. 

This  day  he  loseth  what  he  shall  not  find 

By  all  days  he  survives,  so  good  a  servant, 

Nor  Spain  so  great  a  foe ;  with  whom,  alas  I 

Because  I  treated  am  I  put  to  death  ?  180 

'Tis  but  a  politic  gloze;  my  courage  rais'd  me, 

For  the  dear  price  of  five  and  thirty  scars. 

And  that  hath  ruin'd  me,  I  thank  my  stars. 

Come,  I'll  go  where  ye  will,  ye  shall  not  lead  me. 

[Exit  Byron] 

Chan.    1  fear  his  frenzy ;  never  saw  I  man  185 

Of  such  a  spirit  so  amaz'd  at  death. 

Har,    He  alters  every  minute :  what  a  vapour 
The  strongest  mind  is  to  a  storm  of  crosses  1 

Exeunt 
Manent  Epemon,  Soissons,  Janin,  the  Vidame,  D'Escures 

Ep.    Oh  of  what  contraries  consists  a  man  1 
Of  what  impossible  mixtures  1  Vice  and  virtue,  190 

Corruption,  and  etemnesse,  at  one  time. 
And  in  one  subject,  let  together  loose  1 
We  have  not  any  strength  but  weakens  us. 
No  greatness  but  doth  crush  us  into  air. 

Our  knowledges  do  Ught  us  but  to  err,  195 

Our  ornaments  are  burthens,  our  deUghts 
Are  our  tormenteis,  fiends  that,  rais'd  in  fears. 
At  parting  shake  our  roofs  about  our  ears. 

Sots.     O  Virtue,  thou  art  now  far  worse  than  Fortune  ; 
Her  gifts  stuck  by  the  Duke  when  thine  are  vanished,         200 
Thou  brav'st  thy  friend  in  need :  Necessity, 


264  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [AcxV 

That  used  to  keep  thy  wealth.  Contempt,  thy  love, 

Have  both  abandoned  thee  in  his  extremes, 

Thy  powers  are  shadows,  and  thy  comfort,  dreams. 

Vid,     O  real  Goodness,  if  thou  be  a  power,  205 

And  not  a  word  alone,  in  human  uses, 
Appear  out  of  this  angry  conflagration. 
Where  this  great  captain,  thy  late  temple,  bums. 
And  turn  his  vicious  fury  to  thy  flame 

From  all  earth's  hopes  mere  gilded  with  thy  fame^  210 

Let  Piety  enter  wit^  her  willing  cross. 
And  take  him  on  it ;  ope  his  breast  and  arms. 
To  all  the  storms  Necessity  can  breathe, 
And  burst  them  all  with  his  embraced  death. 

Jan,     Yet  are  the  civil  tumults  of  his  spirits  215 

Hot  and  outrageous :  not  resolv'd,  alas, 
(Being  but  one  man  [under]  the  kingdom's  doom) 
He  doubts,  storms,  threatens,  rues,  complains,  implores ; 
Grief  hath  brought  all  his  forces  to  his  looks. 
And  nought  is  left  to  strengthen  him  within,  220 

Nor  lasts  one  habit  of  those  griev'd  aspects ; 
Blood  expels  paleness,  paleness  blood  doth  chase. 
And  sorrow  errs  through  all  forms  in  his  face. 

D'Es.    So  furious  is  he,  that  the  politic  law 
Is  much  to  seek,  how  to  enact  her  sentence :  225 

Authority  back'd  with  arms,  though  he  unarmed. 
Abhors  his  fury,  and  with  doubtful  eyes 
Views  on  what  ground  it  should  sustain  liis  ruins; 
And  as  a  savage  boar  that  (hunted  long, 
Assail'd  and  set  up)  with  his  only  eyes  230 

Swimming  in  fire,  keeps  ofl  the  baying  hounds, 
Though  sunk  himself,  yet  holds  his  anger  up, 
And  snows  it  forth  in  foam  ;  holds  firm  his  stand. 
Of  battailous  bristles  ;  feeds  his  hate  to  die. 
And  whets  his  tusks  with  wrathful  majesty:  235 

So  fares  the  furious  Duke,  and  with  hi^  looks 
Doth  teach  Death  horrors ;  makes  the  hangman  learn 
New  habits  for  his  bloody  impudence, 
Which  now  habitual  horror  from  him  drives. 
Who  for  his  life  shuns  death,  by  which  he  lives.  240 

[Effeunf] 


Sc.  4]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  265 

[SCENA  IV 
The  Courtyard  of  the  BasHle,    A   Scaffold] 
Enter  Chancellor,  Harlay,  Potier,  Fleury,  Vltry,  [Pr&lin]  » 

Vit,    Will  not  your  lordship  have  the  Duke  distinguished 
From  other  prisoners,  where  the  order  is 
To  give  up  men  condemn'd  into  the  hands 
Of  th'  executioner  ?    He  would  be  the  death 
Of  him  that  he  should  die  by,  ere  he  sufier'd  5 

Such  an  abjection. 

Chan.  ,  But  to  bind  his  hands 

I  hold  it  passing  needful. 

Har.  'Tis  my  lord. 

And  very  dangerous  to  bring  him  loose. 

Prd.    You  will  in  all  despair  and  fury  plunge  him. 
If  you  but  ofEer  it.  10 

Pot  My  lord,  by  this 

The  prisoner's  spirit  is  something  pacifiLed, 
And  'tis  a  fear  that  th'  offer  of  those  bands 
Would  breed  fresh  furies  in  him  and  disturb 
The  entry  of  his  soul  into  her  peace. 

Chan,    I  would  not  that,  for  any  possible  danger  is 

That  can  be  wrought  by  his  unarmed  hands. 
And  therefore  in  his  own  form  bring  him  in. 

Enter  Byron,  a  Bishop  or  two,  with  all  the  guards,  soldiers  with 

muskets 

Byr,    Where  shall  this  weight  fall  ?    On  what  region 
Must  this  declining  prominent  pour  his  load  ? 
I'U  break  my  blood's  high  billows  'gainst  my  stars.  20 

Before  this  hill  be  shook  into  a  flat, 
All  France  shall  feel  an  earthquake  ;  with  what  murmur. 
This  world  shrinks  into  chaos ! 

[Bishop."]  Good,  my  lord, 

Forego  it  willingly  ;  and  now  resign 
Your  sensual  powers  entirely  to  your  soul.  25 

Byr.    Horror  of  death  !     Let  me  alone  in  peace. 
And  leave  my  soul  to  me,  whom  it  concerns  ; 
You  have  no  charge  of  it ;  I  feel  her  free : 
How  she  doth  rouse  and  like  a  falcon  stretch 
Her  silver  wings,  as  threatening  Death  with  death ;  30 

At  whom  I  joyfully  wiU  cast  her  off. 


266  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Act  V 

I  know  this  body  but  a  sink  of  folly. 

The  ground-work  and  rais'd  frame  of  woe  and  frailty, 

The  bond  and  bundle  of  corruption, 

A  quick  corse,  only  sensible  of  grief,  35 

A  walking  sepulchre,  or  household  thief, 

A  glass  of  air,  broken  with  less  than  breath, 

A  slave  bound  face  to  face  to  Death  till  death: 

And  what  said  all  you  more  ?    I  know,  besides. 

That  life  is  but  a  dark  and  stormy  night  40 

Of  senseless  dreams,  terrors,  and  broken  sleeps ; 

A  tyranny,  devising  pains  to  plague 

And  make  man  long  in  dying,  racks  his  death  ; 

And  Death  is  nothing ;  what  can  you  say  more  ?         f 

I  [being]  a  [large]  globe,  and  a  little  earth,  ^        45 

Am  seated  like  earth,  betwixt  both  the  heavens,  » 

That  if  I  rise,  to  heaven  I  rise ;  if  fall, 

I  likewise  fall  to  heaven  ;  what  stronger  faith 

Hath  any  of  your  souls  ?  What  say  you  more  ? 

Why  lose  I  time  in  these  things  ?    Talk  of  knowledge  I         50 

It  serves  for  inward  use.    I  will  not  die 

Like  to  a  clergyman ;  but  like  the  captain 

That  pray'd  on  horseback,  and  with  sword  in  hand, 

Threaten'd  the  sun,  commanding  it  to  stand  ; 

These  are  but  ropes  of  sand. 

Chan.  Desire  you  then  55 

To  speak  with  any  man  ? 

Byr.    I  would  speak  with  La  Force  and  Saint  Blancart. 

[Vit.    They  are  not  in  the  city.] 

Byr.  Do  they  fly  me  ? 

Where  is  Prevost,  Controller  of  my  house  ? 

Prd.    Gone  to  his  house  i'  th'  country  three  da3^  since.  60 

Byr»    He  should  have  stay'd  here  ;  he  keeps  all  my  blanks. 
Oh  all  the  world  forsakes  me  !  Wretched  world. 
Consisting  most  of  parts  that  fly  each  other, 
A  firmness  breeding  all  inconstancy, 

A  bond  of  all  disjunction  ;  like  a  man  65 

Long  buried,  is  a  man  that  long  hath  liv'd  ; 
Touch  him,  he  falls  to  ashes :  for  one  fault, 
I  forfeit  all  the  fashion  of  a  man. 
Why  should  I  keep  my  soul  in  this  dark  light, 
Whose  black  beams  Ughted  me  to  lose  my  self  ?  70 

When  I  have  lost  my  arms,  my  fame,  my  mind. 
Friends,  brother,  hopes,  fortunes,  and  even  my  fury  ? 


Sc.  4]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY     •  267 

0  happy  were  the  man  could  live  alone. 
To  know  no  man,  nor  be  of  any  known ! 

Hat,    My  lord,  it  is  the  manner  once  again  75 

To  read  the  sentence. 

Byr.  Yet  more  sentences  ? 

How  often  will  ye  make  me  suffer  death. 
As  ye  were  proud  to  hear  3rour  powerful  dooms  I 

1  know  and  feel  you  were  the  men  that  gave  it. 

And  die  most  cruelly  to  hear  so  often  80 

My  crimes  and  bitter  condemnation  urg'd  I 
Suffice  it  I  am  brought  here  and  obey. 
And  that  all  here  are  privy  to  the  crimes. 

Chan.    It  must  be  read,  my  lord,  no  remedy. 

Byr.    Read,  if  it  must  be,  then,  and  I  must  talk.  85 

Hat,  [reads  the  sentence"]  '  The  process  being  extraordinoHly 
ntade  and  examined  by  the  Cowrt  and  Chambers  assembled—^' 

Byr.    Condemn'd  for  depositions  of  a  witch. 
The  common  deposition,  and  her  whore 

To  all  whorish  perjuries  and  treacheries  I  90 

Sure  he  call'd  up  the  devil  in  my  spirits. 
And  made  him  to  usurp  my  faculties: 
Shall  I  be  cast  away  now  he's  cast  out  ? 
What  justice  is  in  this  ?    Dear  countrymen. 
Take  this  true  evidence  betwixt  heaven  and  3rou,  95 

And  quit  me  in  your  hearts. 

Chan.    Go  on. 

Har.  [reading]  *  Against  Charles  Gontaut  of  Byron,  Knight 
of  both  the  Orders,  Duke  of  Byron,  Peer  and  Marshal  of  France, 
Governor  of  Burgundy,  accused  of  treason,  a  sentence  was  given  100 
the  twenty-second  of  this  month,  condemning  the  said  Duke  of 
Byfon  of  high  treason,  for  his  direct  conspiracies  against  the 
King's  person,  enterprises  against  his  state ' 

Byr.    That  is  most  false  I  Let  me  for  ever  be 
Deprived  of  heaven,  as  I  shall  be  of  earth,  105 

If  it  be  true ;  know,  worthy  countrymen, 
These  two  and  twenty  months  I  have  been  clear 
Of  all  attempts  against  the  King  and  state. 

Har.  [reading]  '  Treaties  and  treacheries  with  his  enemies, 
being  Marshal  of  the  King's  army  ;  for  reparation  of  which  no 
crimes  they  deprived  him  of  ail  his  estates,  honours,  and  dignities, 
and  condemned  him  to  lose  his  head  upon  a  scaffold  at  the 
Grive 

Byr,    The  Grdve  ?  Had  that  place  stood  for  my  dispatch 


268  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [AcrV 

I  had  not  yielded ;  all  your  forces  shotild  not 

Stir  me  one  foot,  wild  horses  should  have  drawn  115 

My  body  piecemeal  ere  you  all  had  brought  me. 

Har.  [reiidingl  *  Declaring  all  his  goods,  moveabU  and  im- 
moveable, whatsoever,  to  he  confiscate  to  the  King  ;  the  Seignsury 
of  Byron  to  lose  the  title  of  Duchy  and  Peer  for  ever '. 

Byr,    Now  is  your  form  contented  ? 

Chan.  Ay,  my  lord,  120 

And  I  must  now  entreat  you  to  deliver 
Your  order  up  ;  the  King  demands  it  of  you. 

Byr,    And  I  restore  it,  with  my  vow  of  safety 
In  that  world  where  both  he  and  I  are  one, 
I  never  brake  the  oath  I  took  to  take  it.  125 

Chan.    Well,  now,  my  lord,  we'll  take  our  latest  leaves. 
Beseeching  Heaven  to  take  as  clear  from  you 
All  sense  of  torment  in  your  willing  death. 
All  love  and  thought  of  what  3rou  must  leave  here, 
As  when  you  shall  aspire  heaven's  highest  sphere.  130 

Byr.    Thanks  to  your  lordship,  and  let  me  pray  too 
That  you  will  hold  good  censure  of  my  life, 
By  the  clear  witness  of  my  soul  in  death. 
That  I  have  never  pass'd  act  gainst  the  King; 
Which,  if  my  faith  had  let  me  undertake,  135 

[He]  had  been  three  years  since  amongst  the  dead. 

Har.    Your  soul  shall  find  his  safety  in  her  own. 
Call  the  executioner  I    [Exeunt  the  Chancellor  and  Harlay.] 

Byr.  Good  sir,  I  pray 

Go  after  and  beseech  the  Chancellor 

That  he  will  let  my  body  be  interr'd  140 

Amongst  my  predecessors  at  Byron. 

D'Es.    I  go,  my  k>rd.  Exit 

Byr.  Go,  go  1    Can  all  go  thus. 

And  no  man  come  with  comfort  ?    Farewell,  world  I 
He  is  at  no  end  of  his  actions  blest 

Whose  ends  will  make  him  greatest,  and  not  best ;  145 

They  tread  no  ground,  but  ride  in  air  on  storms 
That  follow  state,  and  hunt  their  empty  forms  ; 
Who  see  not  that  the  vaUeys  of  the  world 
Make  even  right  with  the  mountains,  that  they  grow 
Green  and  lie  warmer,  and  ever  peaceful  are,  150 

When  clouds  spit  fire  at  hills  and  bum  them  bare ; 


Sc.  4]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  269 

Not  valleys'  part,  but  we  shonld  imitate  streams. 

That  run  below  the  valleys  and  do  yield 

To  every  molehill,  every  bank  embrace 

That  checks  their  currents,  and  when  torrents  come,  155 

That  swell  and  raise  them  past  their  natural  height, 

How  mad  they  are,  and  troubled  !    Like  low  [streams] 

With  torrents  crown' d,  are  men  with  diadems. 

Vit,    My  lord,  'tis  late  ;  wiU't  please  you  to  go  up  ? 

Byr.     Up  ?  'Tis  a  fair  preferment — ^ha,  ha,  ha  !  160 

There  should  go  shouts  to  upshots  ;  not  a  breath 
Of  any  mercy  yet  ?    Come,  since  we  must ; 

[He  mounts  the  scaffold\ 

[Enter  the  Hangman] 

Who's  this  ? 

Prd.  The  executioner,  my  lord. 

Byr,    Death,  slave,  down,  or  by  the  blood  that  moves 
me 
I'll  pluck  thy  throat  out  t    Go,  I'll  call  you  straight.  165 

Hold,  boy,  and  this ! 

[Casting  his  handkerchief  and  doublet  to  a  boy} 

Hangman.  Soft,  boy,  I'll  bar  you  that! 

Byr,    Take  this,  then ;  yet,  I  pray  thee  that  again. 
I  do  not  joy  in  sight  of  such  a  pageant 
As  presents  Death ;  though  this  life  have  a  curse, 
'Tts  better  than  another  that  is  worse.  170 

[He  blindfolds  his  own  eyes'] 

[Bishop,]    My  lord,  now  you  are  blind  to  this  world's  sight, 
Look  upward  to  a  world  of  endless  light. 

Byr.     Ay,  ay,  you  talk  of  upward  still  to  others^ 
And  downwards  look  with  headlong  eyes  yourselves. 
Now  come  you  up,  sir  ;  [To  the  Executioner]  but  not  touch 

me  yet;  175 

Where  shall  I  be  now  ? 

Hangman.  Here,  my  lord! 

Byr.  Where's  that  ? 

Hangman.    There,  there,  my  lord ! 

Byr,  And  where,  slave,  is  that  there  ? 

Thou  seest  I  see  not,  yet  speak['8t]  as  I  saw. 
Well,  now  is't  fit  ? 

Hangman.  Kneel,  I  beseech  your  Grace, 

That  I  may  do  mine  office  with  most  order.  iSo 

Byr.    Do  it,  and  if  at  one  blow  thou  art  shorty 


270  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ActV 

Give  one  and  tMrty,  I'U  endure  them  alL 

Hold,  stay  a  little  !    Comes  there  yet  no  mercy  ? 

High  Heaven  curse  these  exemplary  proceedings. 

When  justice  fails,  they  sacrifice  our  example.  185 

Hangman,    Let  me  beseech  you  I  may  cut  your  hair. 

Byr.     Out,  ugly  image  of  my  cruel  justice  ! 
Yet  wilt  thou  be  before  me  ?    Stay  my  will. 
Or,  by  the  will  of  Heaven,  I'll  strangle  thee ! 

Vit,    My  lord,  you  make  too  much  of  this  your  body.  190 

Which  is  no  more  your  own. 

Byr.  Nor  is  it  yours  ; 

I'll  take  my  death  with  all  the  horrid  rites 
And  representments  of  the  dread  it  merits  ; 
Let  tame  nobility  and  numbed  fools 

That  apprehend  not  what  they  undergo,  195 

Be  such  exemplary  and  formal  sheep. 
I  will  not  have  him  touch  me  till  I  will ; 
If  you  will  needs  rack  me  beyond  my  reason, 
HeU  take  me  but  I'll  strangle  half  that's  here. 
And  force  the  rest  to  kill  me!   I'll  leap  down,  200 

If  but  once  more  they  tempt  me  to  despair. 
You  wish  my  quiet,  yet  give  cause  of  fury : 
Think  you  to  set  rude  winds  upon  the  sea. 
Yet  keep  it  calm,  or  cast  me  in  a  sleep 

With  shaking  of  my  chains  about  mine  ears  ?  205 

O  honest  soldiers,  [To  the  Guard]  you  have  seen  me  free 
From  any  care  of  many  thousand  deaths. 
Yet  of  this  one  the  manner  doth  amaze  me. 
View,  view  this  wounded  bosom  I  How  much  bound 
Should  that  man  make  me  that  would  shoot  it  through.     210 
Is  it  not  pity  I  should  lose  my  life 
By  such  a  bloody  and  infamous  stroke  ? 

Soldier,    Now  by  thy  spirit,  and  thy  better  Angel, 
If  thou  wert  clear,  the  continent  of  France 
Would  shrink  beneath  the  burthen  of  thy  death  215 

Ere  it  would  bear  it. 

Vit.  Who's  that  ? 

Soldier.  I  say  well. 

And  clear  your  justice :  here  is  no  ground  ahrinka  • 
If  he  were  clear  it  would  ;  and  I  say  more. 
Clear,  or  not  clear,  if  he  witli  all  his  foulness 
Stood  here  in  one  scale,  and  the  King's  chief  minion        220 
Stood^in  another  place ;    put  here  a  pardon. 


Sc.  4]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  271 

Here  lay  a  royal  gift,  fhis,  fhis,  in  merit 
Should  hoise  ^e  other  minion  into  air. 

Vit,    Hence  with  that  frantic  1 

Byr,  This  is  some  poor  witness 

That  my  desert  might  have  outweighed  my  forfeit:  225 

But  danger  haunts  desert  when  he  is  greatest ; 
His  hearty  ills  are  prov'd  out  of  his  glances. 
And  kings'  suspicions  needs  no  balances  ; 
So  here's  a  most  decretal  end  of  me : 

Which,  I  desire,  in  me  may  end  my  wrongs.  230 

Commend  my  love,  I  charge  you,  to  my  brothers. 
And  by  my  love  and  misery  command  them 
To  keep  their  faiths  that  bind  them  to  the  King, 
And  prove  no  stomachers  of  my  misfortunes. 
Nor  come  to  Court  till  time  hath  eaten  out  235 

The  blots  and  scars  of  my  opprobrious  death ; 
And  tell  the  Earl,  my  dear  friend  of  D'Auvergne, 
That  my  death  utterly  were  free  from  grief 
But  for  the  sad  loss  of  his  worthy  friendship ; 
And  if  I  had  been  made  for  longer  life  240 

I  would  have  more  deserv'd  him  in  my  service. 
Beseeching  him  to  know  I  have  not  us'd 
One  word  in  my  arraignment  that  might  touch  him  ; 
Had  I  no  other  want  than  so  ill  meaning. 
And  so  farewell  for  everl     Never  more  245 

Shall  any  hope  of  my  revival  see  me ; 
Such  is  the  endless  exUe  of  dead  men. 
Sununer  succeeds  the  Spring ;  Autumn  the  Summer ; 
The  frosts  of  Winter  the  fall'n  leaves  of  Autumn : 
All  these  and  all  fruits  in  them  3rearly  fade,  250 

And  every  year  return :  but  cursed  man 
Shall  never  more  renew  his  vanished  face. 
Fall  on  your  knees  then,  statists,  ere  ye  fall. 
That  you  may  rise  again :  knees  bent  too  late. 
Stick  you  in  earth  like  statues :  see  in  me  255 

How  you  are  poiur'd  down  from  your  clearest  heavens ; 
FaU  lower  yet,  mix'd  with  th'  unmoved  centre. 
That  your  own  shadows  may  no  longer  mock  ye. 
Strike,  strike,  O  strike ;  fly,  fly,  commanding  soul. 
And  on  thy  wings  for  this  thy  body's  breath,  260 

Bear  the  eternal  victory  of  Death  1 

FINIS 


i 


THE  TRAGEDY    OF    CHABOT 
ADMIRAL   OF   FRANCE 


C.D.W. 


DRAMATIS 

Francis  I,  King  of  France 

Philip  Chaboty  Admiral  of 
France 

Montmorency,  Lord  High 
Constable 

Poyet,  Lord  Chancellor 

The  Treasurer 

The  Secretary 

The  Proctor-General,  or  Advo- 
cate 

Two  Judges 


PERSONAE 
A  Notary 

The  Father-in-law  of  Chahot 
Asall,    a    gentleman-in-waiting 
Allegre,  a  servant  of  Chabot 
A  Courtier 

The  Captain  of  the  Guard 
Ofl&cers,  Ushers,  Guards,  Peti- 
tioners, and  Courtiers 

The  Queen 

The  Wife  of  Chabot 


S74 


The  Tragedy  of  Chabot 
Admiral  of  France 

ACTUS   PRIMUS 

[SCENA  I 
A  Room  in  the  Courf\ 

Enter  Asall  and  Allegre 

As.    Now  Philip  Chabot,  Admiral  of  Fraace^ 
The  great  and  only  famous  favourite 
To  Francis,  first  of  that  imperial  name. 
Hath  found  a  fresh  competitor  in  glory 

(Duke  Montmorency,  Constable  of  France)  5 

Who  drinks  as  deep  as  he  of  the  stream  royal. 
And  may  in  little  time  convert  the  strengili 
To  raise  his  spring,  and  blow  the  other's  fall. 

AL    The  world  would  wish  it  so,  that  will  not  patiently 
Endure  the  due  rise  of  a  virtuous  man.  lO 

As.    If  he  be  virtuous,  what  is  the  reason 
That  men  affect  him  not  ?    Why  is  he  lost 
To  th'  general  opinion,  and  become 
Rather  their  hate  than  love  ? 

A  I.  I  wonder  you 

Will  question  it ;   ask  a  ground  or  reason  15 

Of  men  bred  in  this  vile,  degenerate  age  I 
The  most  men  are  not  good,  and  it  agrees  not 
With  impious  natures  to  allow  what's  honest ; 
'Tis  an  offence  enough  to  be  exalted 

To  regal  favours ;   great  men  are  not  safe  20 

In  their  own  vice  where  good  men  by  the  hand 
Of  kings  are  planted  to  survey  their  workings. 
What  man  was  ever  fix'd  i'  th'  sphere  of  honour. 
And  precious  to  his  sovereign,  whose  actions. 
Nay,  very  soul,  was  not  expos'd  to  every  25 

Common  and  base  dissection  ?  And  not  only 
That  which  in  Nature  hath  excuse,  and  in 
Themselves  is  privileged  by  name  of  friailty, 

I7» 


276  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  I 

But  even  virtues  are  made  crimes,  and  doom'd 
To  th'  fate  of  treason. 

As.  A  bad  age  the  while  I  30 

I  ask  your  pardon,  sir,  but  thinks  your  judgment 
His  love  to  justice  and  corruption's  hate 
Are  true  and  hearty  ? 

Al,  Judge  yourself,  by  this 

One  argument,  his  hearty  truth  to  all ; 

For  in  the  heart  hath  anger  his  wisest  seat,  35 

And  gainst  unjust  suits  such  brave  anger  fires  him 
That  when  they  seek  to  pass  his  place  and  power, 
(Though  mov'd  and  urg'd  by  the  other  minion. 
Or  by  his  greatest  friends,  and  even  the  King 
Lead  them  to  his  allowance  with  his  hand,  40 

First  given  in  bill  assign'd)  even  then  his  spirit. 
In  nature  calm  as  any  summer's  evening. 
Puts  up  his  whole  powers  like  a  winter's  sea, 
His  blood  boils  over,  and  his  heart  even  cracks 
At  the  injustice,  and  he  tears  the  biU,  45 

And  would  do,  were  he  for't  to  be  torn  in  pieces. 

As.    'Tis  brave,  I  swear  t 

Al.  Nay,  it  is  worth  your  wonder. 

That  I  must  tell  you  further,  there's  no  needle 
In  a  sun-dial,  plac'd  upon  his  steel 

In  such  a  tender  posture  that  doth  tremble,  50 

The  timely  dial  being  held  amiss. 
And  will  shake  ever  till  you  hold  it  right, 
More  tender  than  himself  in  anything 
That  he  concludes  in  justice  for  the  state : 
For,  as  a  fever  held  him,  he  will  shake  55 

When  he  is  signing  any  things  of  weight. 
Lest  human  frailty  should  misguide  his  justice. 

As.    You  have  declar'd  him  a  most  noble  justicer. 

Al.    He  truly  weighs  and  feels,  sir,  what  a  charge 
The  subjects'  Uvings  are  (being  even  their  lives  60 

Laid  on  the  hand  of  power),  which  abus'd. 
Though  seen  blood  flow  not  from  the  justice-seat, 
'Tis  in  true  sense  as  grievous  and  horrid. 

As.    It  argues  nothing  less  ;    but  since  your  lord 
Is  diversely  reported  for  his  parts,  65 

What's  your  true  censure  of  his  general  worth, 
Virtue,  and  judgment  ? 

AL    As  of  a  picture  wrought  to  optic  reason. 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  277 

That  to  all  passers-by  seems,  as  they  move. 

Now  woman,  now  a  monster,  now  a  devil,  70 

And  till  you  stand  and  in  a  ri^t  line  view  it. 

You  cannot  well  judge  what  the  main  form  is : 

So  men,  that  view  him  but  in  vulgar  passes. 

Casting  but  lateral  or  partial  glances 

At  what  he  is,  suppose  him  weak,  unjust,  75 

Bloody,  and  monstrous ;   but  stand  free  and  fast 

And  judge  him  by  no  more  than  what  you  know 

Ingenuously  and  by  the  right  laid  line 

Of  truth,  he  truly  will  aU  styles  deserve 

Of  wise,  just,  good ;  a  man,  both  soul  and  nerve.  80 

As.    Sir,  I  must  join  in  just  belief  with  you ; 
But  what's  his  rival,  the  Lord  High  Constable  ? 

AL    As  just,  and  well  inclin'd,  when  he's  himself 
(Not  wrought  on  with  the  counsels  and  opinions 
Of  other  men),  and  the  main  difference  is,  85 

The  Admiral  is  not  flexible,  nor  won 
To  move  one  scruple,  when  he  comprehends 
The  honest  tract  and  justness  of  a  cause : 
The  Constable  explores  not  so  sincerely 

The  course  he  runs,  but  takes  the  mind  of  others  90 

(By  name  judicial),  for  what  his  own 
Judgment  and  knowledge  should  conclude. 

As.  A  fault, 

In  my  apprehension :   another's  knowledge 
Applied  to  my  instruction  cannot  equal 

My  own  soul's  knowledge  how  to  inform  acts ;  95 

The  sun's  rich  radiance,  shot  through  waves  most  fair. 
Is  but  a  shadow  to  his  beams  i'  th'  air ; 
His  beams,  that  in  the  air  we  so  admire. 
Is  but  a  darkness  to  his  flame  in  Are ; 

In  fire  his  fervour  but  as  vapour  flies,  100 

To  what  his  own  pure  bosom  rarefies : 
And  the  Almighty  Wisdom,  having  given 
Each  man  within  himself  an  apter  light 
To  guide  his  acts  than  any  light  without  him 
(Creating  nothing  not  in  all  things  equal)  105 

It  seems  a  fault  in  any  that  depend 
On  others'  knowledge,  and  exile  their  own. 

Al.    'Tis  nobly  argued  and  exemplified ; 
But  now  I  hear  my  lord  and  his  young  rival 
Are  to  be  reooncil'd,  and  then  one  light  zxo 


278  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  I 

May  serve  to  guide  them  both. 

As,    I  wish  it  may,  the  King  being  made  first  mover 
To  form  their  reconcilement  and  inflame  it 
With  all  the  sweetness  of  his  praise  and  honour. 

A  I.    See,  'tis  dispatched,  I  hope  ;  the  King  doth  grace  it.        115 

Loud  Music,  and  enter  Ushers  before  the  Secretary,  Treasurer, 
Chancellor  ;  Admiral,  Constable,  hand  in  hand  ;  the 
King  following,  others  attend. 

King,    This  doth  express  the  noblest  fruit  of  peace. 

Chan,    Which,  when  the  great  begin,  the  humble  end 
In  jo3rful  imitation,  all  combining 
A  Gordian  beyond  the  Phrygian  loiot. 
Past  wit  to  loose  it,  or  the  sword  ;   be  still  so.  120 

Treas,     Tis  certain,  sir,  by  concord  least  things  grow  7/ 
Most  great  and  flourishing  hke  trees,  that  wrap 
Their  forehead  in  the  skies  ;   may  these  do  so  I 

King    You  hear,  my  lord,  all  that  is  spoke  contends 
To  celebrate  with  pious  vote  the  atonement  125 

So  lately  and  so  nobly  made  between  you. 

Chah.    Which  for  itself  sir,  [I]  resolve  to  keep 
Pure  and  inviolable,  needing  none 
To  encourage  or  confirm  it  but  my  own 
Love  and  allegiance  to  your  sacred  counsel.  130 

King,    'Tis  good,  and  pleases,  like  my  dearest  health ; 
Stand  you  firm  on  that  sweet  simplicity  ?  [To  the  Constable] 

Mont,     Past  all  earth  policy  that  would  infringe  itt 

King,    Tis  well,  and  answers  all  the  doubts  suspected. — 

Enter  one  that  whispers  with  the  Admiral 

And  what  moves  this  close  message,  Philip  ? 

:Chab.  My  wife's      135 

Father,  sir,  is  closely  come  to  court. 

King,     Is  he  come  to  the  court,  whose  aversation 
So  much  aflects  him  that  he  shuns  and  flies  it  ? 
What's  the  strange  reason  that  he  wiU  not  rise 
Above  the  middle  region  he  was  bom  in  ?  140 

Chab,    He  saith,  sir,  'tis  because  the  extreme  of  height 
Makes  a  man  less  seem  to  the  imperfect  eye 
Than  he  is  truly,  his  acts  envied  more ; 
And  though  he  nothing  cares  for  seeming,  so 
Uis  being  just  stand  firm  'twixt  heaven  and  him*  4J 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  279 

Yet  since  in  his  soul's  jealousy  he  fears 

That  he  himself  advanced  would  under-value 

Men  plac'd  beneath  him  and  their  business  with  him, 

Since  height  of  place  oft  dazzles  height  of  judgment, 

He  takes  his  top-sail  down  in  such  rough  storms,  150 

And  apts  his  sails  to  airs  more  temperate. 

King.    A  most  wise  soul  he  has.     How  long  shall  kings 
Raise  men  that  are  not  wise  till  they  be  high  ? 
You  have  our  leave  ;   but  tell  him,  Philip,  we 
Would  have  him  nearer. 

Mont,  Your  desires  attend  yout  155 

[Exit  Chabot] 

Enter  another 

King.    We  know  from  whence  you  come  ;  say  to  the 
Queen, 
We  were  coming  to  her.     'Tis  a  day  of  love. 
And  she  seals  all  perfection. 

Exit  [the  King  with  Attendants] 

Treas.  My  lord. 

We  must  beseech  your  stay. 

Mont.  My  stay  ? 

Chan.  Our  counsels 

Have  led  you  thus  far  to  your  reconcilement,  160 

And  must  remember  you  to  observe  the  end 
At  which,  in  plain,  I  told  you  then  we  aim'd  at: 
You  know  we  all  urg'd  the  atonement,  rather 
To  enforce  the  broader  difference  between  you 
Than  to  conclude  your  friendship ;  which  wise  men  165 

Know  to  be  fashionable  and  privileged  policy. 
And  will  succeed  betwixt  you  and  the  Admiral, 
As  siure  as  fate,  if  you  please  to  get  sign'd 
A  suit  now  to  the  King  with  all  our  hands. 
Which  will  so  much  increase  his  precise  justice  170 

That,  weighing  not  circumstances  of  politic  state. 
He  will  instantly  oppose  it  and  complain 
And  urge  in  passion  what  the  King  will  sooner 
Punish  than  yield  to ;  and  so  render  you. 
In  the  King's  frown  on  him,  the  only  darling  175 

And  mediate  power  of  France. 

Mont.  My  good  Lord  Chancellor, 

Shall  I,  so  late  aton'd,  and  by  the  King's 
Hearty  and  earnest  motion,  fall  in  pieces  ? 


z8o  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  I 

Chan.    'Tis  he,  not  you,  that  break. 
Treas.  Ha'  not  you  patience 

To  let  him  bum  himself  in  the  King's  flame  ?  i8o 

Chan,    Come,  be  not,  sir,  infected  with  a  spice 
Of  that  too  servile  equity,  that  renders 
Men  free-bom  slaves  and  rid  with  bits  like  horses. 
When  you  must  know,  my  lord,  that  even  in  nature 
A  man  is  animal  politicum ;  185 

So  that  when  he  informs  his  actions  simply. 
He  does  i[t]  both  gainst  poUcy  and  natiure : 
And  therefore  our  soul  motion  is  affirm'd 
To  be,  like  heavenly  natures',  circular  ; 

And  circles  being  call'd  ambitious  lines,  190 

We  must,  like  them,  become  ambitious  ever. 
And  endless  in  our  circumventions  ; 
No  tough  hides  limiting  our  cheverel  minds. 

Treas.     'Tis  learnedly,  and  past  all  answer,  argued  ; 
Y'are  great,  and  must  grow  greater  still,  and  greater^  195 

And  not  be  like  a  dull  and  standing  lake, 
That  settles,  putrefies,  and  chokes  with  mud  ; 
But,  like  a  river  gushing  from  the  head. 
That  winds  through  the  under-vales,  what  checks  overflowing. 
Gets  strength  still  of  his  course,  200 

Till,  with  the  ocean  meeting,  even  with  him 
In  sway  and  title  his  brave  billows  move. 

Mont,    You  speak  a  rare  affection  and  high  souls  ; 
But  give  me  leave,  great  lords,  still  my  just  thanks 
Remember'd  to  your  counsels  and  direction,  205 

I[n]  seeking  this  way  to  confirm  myself 
I  undermine  the  columns  that  support 
My  hopeful,  glorious  fortune,  and  at  once 
Provoke  the  tempest,  though  did  drown  my  envy. 
With  what  assurance  shall  the  King  expect  210 

My  faith  to  him  that  break  it  for  another  ? 
He  has  engag'd  our  peace,  and  my  revenge 
Forfeits  my  trust  with  him,  whose  narrow  sight 
Will  penetrate  through  all  our  mists,  could  we 
Veil  our  design  with  clouds  blacker  than  night;  215 

But  grant  this  danger  over,  with  what  justice. 
Or  satisfaction  to  the  inward  judge. 
Shall  I  be  guilty  of  this  good  man's  ruin  ? 
Though  I  may  still  the  murmuring  tongues  without  me. 
Loud  conscience  has  a  voice  to  sh[u]dder  greatness.  320 


Sc.  1]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  281 

Sec.    A  name  to  fright,  and  terrify  yoang  statists. 
There  is  necessity,  my  lord,  that  you 
Must  lose  your  light,  if  3rou  eclipse  not  him ; 
Two  stars  so  lucid  cannot  shine  at  once 
In  such  a  firmament,  and  better  you  225 

Extinguish  his  fires  than  be  made  his  fuel. 
And  in  3rour  ashes  give  his  flame  a  trophy. 

Chan.    My  lord,  the  league  that  you  have  vow'd  of  friendship. 
In  a  true  understanding  not  confines  you. 
But  makes  3rou  boundless  ;   turn  not  edge  at  such  230 

A  liberty,  but  look  to  your  own  fortune ; 
Secure  3rour  honour :    a  precisian 
In  state  is  a  ridiculous  miracle ; 
Friendship  is  but  a  visor,  beneath  which 
A  wise  man  laughs  to  see  whole  families  235 

Ruin'd,  upon  whose  miserable  pile 
He  mounte  to  glory.     Sir,  you  must  resolve 
To  use  any  advantage. 

Mont.  Misery 

Of  rising  statesmen  !     I  must  on  ;   I  see 

That  gainst  the  politic  and  privileg'd  fashion,  240 

All  justice  tastes  but  afiectation. 

Chan.    Why  so  !    We  shall  do  good  on  him  i' th' end. 

Exeuni 

[SCENA  II 
Another  Room  in  the  Courf] 

Enter  Father  and  the  Admiral 

Chab.    You  are  most  welcome. 

Fath.  I  wish  your  lordship's  safety : 

Which  whilst  I  pray  for,  I  must  not  forget 
To  urge  again  the  ways  to  fix  you  where 
No  danger  has  access  to  threaten  you. 

Chab.    Still  your  old  argument ;  I  owe  your  love  for't.  5 

Fath.    But,  fortified  with  new  and  pregnant  reasons* 
That  you  should  leave  the  court. 

Chab.  I  dare  not,  sir. 

Fath.    You  dare  be  undone,  then. 

Chab.  1  should  be  ingrateful 

To  such  a  master,  as  no  subject  boasted. 


283  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  I 

To  leave  his  service[s]  when  they  exact  lo 

My  chiefest  duty  and  attendance,  sir. 

Fath.    Would  thou  wert  less,  degraded  from  thy  titles 
And  swelling  offices  that  will,  i'  th'  end. 
Engulf  thee  past  a  rescue  !  I  had  not  come 
So  far  to  trouble  you  at  this  time,  but  that  15 

I  do  not  like  the  loud  tongues  o'  the  world, 
That  say  the  King  has  ta'en  another  favourite, 
The  Constable,  a  gay  man,  and  a  great. 
With  a  huge  train  of  faction  too ;  the  Queen, 
Chancellor,  Treasurer, .  Secretary,  and  20 

An  army  of  state  warriors,  whose  discipline 
Is  sure,  and  subtle  to  confusion. 
I  hope  the  rumour's  false,  thou  art  so  calm. 

Chab.    Report  has  not  abus'd  you,  sir. 

Fath,  It  has  not ! 

And  you  are  pleas'd  ?   Then  you  do  mean  to  mix  25 

With  unjust  courses,  the  great  Constable 
And  you  combining  that  no  suit  may  pass 
One  of  the  grapples  of  your  cither's  rape. 
I  that  abhorr'd,  must  I  now  entertain 

A  thought  that  your  so  straight  and  simple  custom  30 

To  render  justice  and  the  common  good. 
Should  now  be  patch'd  with  policy,  and  wrested 
From  the  ingenuous  step  you  took,  and  hang 
Upon  the  shoulders  of  your  enemy. 
To  bear  you  out  in  what  you  shame  to  act  ?     •  35 

Chab.    Sir,  we  both  are  reconciled. 

Fath.    It  follows,  then,  that  both  the  acts  must  bear 
Like  reconcilement ;   and  if  he  will  now 
Malign  and  malice  you  for  crossing  him 

Or  any  of  his  faction  in  their  suits,  40 

Being  now  aton'd,  you  must  be  one  in  all, 
One  in  corruption  ;   and  'twixt  you  two  millstones, 
New  pick'd,  and  put  together,  must  the  grain 
Of  good  men's  needful  means  to  live  be  ground 
Into  your  choking  superfluities  ;  45 

You  both  too  rich,  they  ruin'd. 

Chab.  I  conceive,  sir, 

We  both  may  be  enrich'd,  and  raise  our  fortunes 
Even  with  our  places  in  our  Sovereign's  favour, 
Though  past  the  height  of  others,  yet  within 
The  rules  of  law  and  justice,  and  approve  50 


Sc.  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  283 

Our  actions  white  and  innocent. 

Fath,  I  donbt  it ; 

Whi[t]e  in  forc'd  show,  perhaps,  which  will,  I  fear. 
Prove  in  true  substance  but  a  nuller's  whiteness. 
More  sticking  in  your  clothes  than  conscience. 

ClMb.     Your  censure  herein  tastes  some  passion,  sir  ;  55 

And  I  beseech  you  nourish  better  thoughts 
Than  to  imagine  that  the  King's  mere  grace 
Sustains  such  prejudice  by  those  it  honours, 
That  of  necessity  we  must  pervert  it 

With  passionate  enemies,  and  ambitio[n]s  boundless,  60 

Avarice,  and  every  licence  incident 
To  fortunate  greatness,  and  that  all  abuse  it 
For  the  most  impious  avarice  of  some. 

Faih,    As  if  the  total  sum  of  favourites'  frailties 
Afiected  not  the  full  rule  of  their  kings  65 

In  their  own  partially  dispos'd  ambitions, 
And  that  kings  do  no  hazard  infinitely 
In  their  free  realities  of  rights  and  honours. 
Where  they  leave  much  for  ^vourites'  powers  to  order. 

Chab,    But  we  have  such  a  master  of  our  King,  70 

In  the  imperial  art,  that  no  power  flies 
Out  of  his  favour,  but  his  policy  ties 
A  criance  to  it,  to  contain  it  still ; 
And  for  the  reconcilement  of  us,  sir. 

Never  were  two  in  favour  that  were  more  75 

One  in  all  love  of  justice  and  true  honour. 
Though  in  the  act  and  prosecution 
Perhaps  we  differ.     Howsoever  yet. 
One  beam  us  both  creating,  what  should  let 
That  both  our  souls  should  both  one  mettie  bear,  80 

And  that  one  stamp,  one  word,  one  character  ? 

Faih,    I  could  almost  be  won  to  be  a  courtier ; 
There's  something  more  in's  composition 
Than  ever  yet  was  favourite's. — 

Enter  a  Courtier 

What's  he  ? 
Court.     I  bring  your  lordship  a  sign'd  bill,  to  have  85 

The  addition  of  your  honour'd  hand  ;   the  Council 
Have  all  before  subscrib'd,  and  full  prepar'd  it. 

Chab,    It  seems  then  tiiey  have  weigh'd  the  importance 
of  it, 
And  know  the  grant  is  just. 


284  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  I 

Court,  No  doubt,  my  lord  ; 

Or  else  they  take  tibierein  tiie  Constable's  word,  90 

It  being  his  suit,  and  his  power  having  wrought 
The  King  already  to  appose  his  hand. 

Chab,     I  do  not  like  his  working  of  the  King, 
For,  if  it  be  a  suit  made  known  to  him 
And  fit  to  pass,  he  wrought  himself  to  it ;  95 

However,  my  hand  goes  to  no  such  grant. 
But  first  I'll  know,  and  censure  it  myself. 

Court,  {aside].    [At6,]  if  th.ou  beest  goddess  of  contention. 
That  Jove  took  by  tlie  hair  and  hurl'd  from  heaven. 
Assume  in  earth  thy  empire,  and  this  bill  .   100 

Thy  firebrand  make^rto  turn  his  love,  thus  tempted. 
Into  a  hate  as  horrid  as  thy  furies. 

Chdb,    Does  this  bear  title  of  his  lordship's  suit  ? 

Court.    It  does,  my  lord,  and  therefore  he  beseech'd 
The  rather  3rour  dispatch.  105 

Chab.  No  thought  the  rather  ! 

But  now  the  rather  all  powers  against  it. 
The  suit  being  most  unjust,  and  he  pretending 
In  all  his  actions  justice,  on  the  sudden 
After  his  so  late  vow  not  to  violate  it. 

Is  strange  and  vile  ;   and  if  the  King  himself  1 10 

Should  own  and  urge  it,  I  would  stay  and  cross  it ; 
For  'tis  within  the  free  power  of  my  office. 
And  I  should  strain  his  kingdom  if  I  pass'd  it. 
I  see  their  poor  attempts  and  giddy  malice ; 
Is  this  the  reconcilement  that  so  lately  115 

He  vow'd  in  sacred  witness  of  the  King  P 
Assuring  me  he  never  more  would  offer 
To  pass  a  suit  unjust,  which  I  well  know 
This  is  above  all,  and  have  often  been  urg'd 
To  give  it  passage. — Be  you,  sir,  the  judge.  120 

Faih.    I  wo'  not  meddle 
With  anything  of  state,  you  knew  long  since. 

Chab.    Yet  3rou  may  hear  it,  sir. 

Fath.  You  wo'  not  urge 

My  opinion,  then  P    Go  to  1 

Chab,  An  honest  merchant, 

Presuming  on  our  league  of  France  with  Spain,  125 

Brought  into  Spain  a  wealthy  ship  to  vent 
Her  fit  commodities  to  serve  the  country. 
Which,  in  the  place  of  suffering  their  sale. 


Sc.  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  285 

Were  seic'd  to  lecompeose  a  Spaniah  ship 

Priz'd  by  a  Frenchman  ere  the  league  was  made.  130 

No  snitB,  no  letters  of  our  King's  could  gain 

Our  merchant's  first  right  in  it ;  but  his  letters 

Unreverently  receiv'd,  the  King's  self  scandal, 

Beside  tiie  league's  breach  and  the  iovl  injustice 

Done  to  our  honest  merchant,  who  endur'd  all,  135 

Till  some  small  time  since,  (authoriz'd  by  our  Council, 

Though  not  in  open  court,)  he  made  a  s^p  out. 

And  took  a  Spaniard ;   brings  all  home,  and  sues 

To  gain  his  full  prov'd  loss,  full  recompense 

Of  his  just  prize :   his  prize  is  stay'd  and  seiz'd  140 

Yet  for  the  King's  disposure ;   and  the  Spaniard 

Makes  suit  to  be  restored  her,  which  this  bill 

Would  fain  get  granted,  feigning,  as  they  hop'd. 

With  my  allowance,  and  way  given  to  make 

Our  countryman's  in  Spain  their  absolute  prize«  145 

Fath.    'Twere  absolute  injustice. 

Chab.  Should  I  pass  it  ? 

Faih.    Pass  life  and  state  before  f 

ChtU).  If  this  would  seem 

His  lordship's  suit,  his  love  to  me  and  justice 
Including  plots  upon  me,  while  my  simpleness 
Is  seriously  vow'd  to  reconcilement,  150 

Love  him,  good  vulgars,  and  abhor  me  still; 
For  if  I  court  your  flattery  with  my  crimes. 
Heaven's  love  before  me  fly,  till  in  my  tomb 
I  stick,  pursuing  it ;   and  for  this  bill. 
Thus,  say,  'twas  shiver'd ;   bless  us,  equal  Heaven !    Etnt   155 

Fath.    This  could  I  cherish  now,  above  his  loss. — 
You  may  report  as  much,  the  bill  discharg'd,  sir.   E^immt 

ACTUS   SECUNDUS 

[SCENA   I 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  King  and  Queen,  Secretary  with  the  torn  bill 

King,    Is  it  e'en  so  ? 

Qtteen.  Good  heaven,  how  tame  you  are  I 

Do  Kings  of  Ftance  reward  foul  traitors  thus  ? 

King.    No  traitor,  y'are  too  loud,  Chabot's  no  traitor ; 


286  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  II 

He  has  the  passions  of  a  man  abont  him» 

And  multiplicity  of  cares  may  make  5 

Wise  men  forget  themselves.    Come,  be  yon  patient. 

Queen,    Can  yon  be  so,  and  see  yourself  thus  torn  ? 

King.    Ourself  ? 

Queen,    [Showing  the  torn  billJ]     There  is  some  left,  if  3roa 
dare  own 
Yoiu:  royal  character ;   is  not  this  your  name  ? 

King.    'Tis  Frauds,  I  confess. 

Queen,  Be  but  a  name,  to 

If  this  stain  live  upon't,  affronted  by 
Your  subject.     Shall  the  sacred  name  of  King, 
A  word  to  make  your  nation  bow  and  tremble. 
Be  thus  profan'd  ?    Are  laws  establish'd 
To  punish  the  defacers  of  your  ims^ge  15 

But  dully  set  by  the  rude  hand  of  others 
Upon  3rour  coin,  and  shall  the  character 
That  doth  include  the  blessing  of  all  France, 
Your  name,  thus  written  by  your  royal  hand, 
Design'd  for  justice  and  your  kingdom's  honour,  20 

Not  call  up  equal  anger  to  reward  it  ? 
Your  Counsellors  of  state  contemn'd  and  slighted. 
As  in  piis]  brain  [were]  circumscribed  all  wisdom 
And  policy  of  empire,  and  your  power 
Subordinate  and  subject  to  his  passion.  25 

King.    Come,  it  concerns  you  not. 

Queen.  Is  this  the  consequence 

Of  an  atonement  made  so  lately  between 
The  hopeful  Montmobency  and  his  lordship, 
Urge[d]  by  yourself  with  such  a  precious  sanction  ? 
Come,  he  that  dares  do  this,  wants  not  a  heart,  30 

But  opportunity — 

King.  To  do  what  ? 

Queen.  To  tear 

Your  crown  off. 

King.  Come,  your  language  doth  taste  more 

Of  rage  and  womanish  flame,  than  solid  reason. 
Against  the  Admiral.    What  commands  of  yours. 
Not  to  your  expectation  obey'd  35 

By  him,  is  ground  of  your  so  keen  displeasure  ? 

Queen.    Commands  of  mine  ?  He  is  too  great  and  powerful 
To  stoop  to  my  emplo3mient,  a  Colossus, 
And  can  stride  from  one  province  to  another 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  287 

By  the  assistance  of  tliose  offices  40 

You  have  most  confidently  impos'd  upon  him, 
'Tis  he,  not  you,  take  up  the  people's  eyes 
And  admiration,  while  his  princely  wife — 

King.    Nay,  then  I  reach  the  spring  of  your  distaste ; 
He  has  a 


Enter  Chancellor,  Treasurer,  and  whisper  with  the  King 

Queen.     [Aside]  Whom  for  her  pride  I  love  not;        45 

And  I  but  in  her  husband's  ruin  can 
Triumph  o'er  her  greatness. 

King.    [To  Chancellor]  WeU,  well ;  I'll  think  on't.     E^t 

Chan.  He  begins  to  incline. 

Madam,  you  are  the  soul  of  our  great  work. 

Queen.    I'U  follow,  and  employ  my  powers  upon  him.        50 

Treas.    We  are  confident  you  will  prevail  at  last. 
And  for  the  pious  work  oblige  the  King  to  you. 

Chan.    And  us  3rour  humblest  creatures. 

Queen.  Press  no  further.      E»it  Queen 

Chan.    Lef  8   seek  out  my  lord  Constable. 

Treas.  And  inflame  him — 

Chan.    To  expostulate  with  Chabot ;   something  may         55 
Arise  from  thence,  to  pull  more  weight  upon  him. 

Enfeunt 


[SCENA   II 
•  Another  Room  in  the  Courf] 

Enter  Father  and  Allegro 

Path.    How  sorts  the  business  ?  How  took  the  King 
The  tearing  of  his  bill  ? 

A  I.  Exceeding  well« 

And  seem'd  to  smile  at  all  their  grim  complaints 
Gainst  aU  that  outrage  to  his  Highness'  hand. 
And  said,  in  plain,  he  sign'd  it  but  to  try  5 

My  lord's  firm  justice. 

Path.  What  a  sweet  king  'tis  ! 

A  I.    But  how  his  rival,  the  Lord  Constable, 
Is  labour'd  by  the  Chancellor  and  others  to  retort 
His  wrong  with  ten  parts  more  upon  my  lord. 
Is  monstrous.  10 


288  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  II 

Fath.    Need  he  their  spurs  ? 

AL  Ay,  sir*  for  he's  afraid 

To  bear  himfielf  too  boldly  in  his  braves 
Upon  the  King,  being  newly  enter'd  minion, 
(Since  'tb  but  patience  sometime  [he]  think[s] 
Because,  the  favour  spending  in  two  streams,  i$ 

One  must  run  low  at  length)  till  when  he  dare 
Take  fire  in  such  flame  as  his  faction  wishes  ; 
But  with  wise  fear  contains  himself,  and  so. 
Like  a  green  faggot  in  his  kindling,  smokes ; 
And  where  the  Chancellor,  his  chief  Cyclops,  finds  20 

The  fire  within  him  apt  to  take,  he  blows. 
And  then  the  faggot  flames  as  never  more 
The  bellows  needed,  till  the  too  soft  greenness 
Of  his  state  halnt  shows  his  sap  stiU  flows 
Above  the  solid  timber,  with  which,  then,  25 

His  blaze  shrinks  head,  he  cools,  and  smokes  again. 

Faih.    Good  man  he  would  be,  would  the  bad  not  spoil  him. 

AL    True,  sir  ;  but  they  still  ply  him  with  their  arts  ; 
And,  as  I  heard,  have  wrought  him,  personally 
To  question  my  lord  with  all  the  bitterness  30 

The  galls  of  all  their  faction  can  pour  in ; 
And  such  an  expectation  hangs  upon't, 
Th[r]ough  all  the  Court,  as  'twere  with  child  and  long'd 
To  make  a  mirror  of  my  lord's  clear  blood, 
And  therein  see  the  full  ebb  of  his  flood;  35 

And  therefore,  if  you  please  to  counsel  him, 
You  shall  perform  a  father's  part. 

Faih.  Nay,  since 

He's  gone  so  far,  I  would  not  have  him  fear. 
But  dare  'em  ;   and  yet  I'll  not  meddle  in't. 

Enter  Admiral 

He's  here  ;  if  he  have  wit  to  like  his  cause,  40 

His  spirit  wo'  not  be  asham'd  to  die  in't.  Exit 

A  I.    My  lord,  retire ;  y'are  waylaid  in  your  walks  ; 
Your  friends  are  all  fallen  from  you  ;   all  your  servants, 
Subom'd  by  all  advantage  to  report 

Each  word  you  whisper  out,  and  to  serve  you  45 

With  hat  and  knee,  while  others  have  their  hearts. 

Chab.    Much  profit  may  my  foes  make  of  such  servants  1 
I  love  no  enemy  I  have  so  well. 
To  take  so  ill  a  bargain  from  his  hands. 


Sc.  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  289 

AL    Their  other  odds  yet  shun,  all  being  combin'd,  50 

And  lodg'd  in  ambush,  arriv'd  to  do  you  mischief 
By  any  means,  past  fear  of  law  or  sovereign. 

Chab.    I  walk  no  desert,  yet  go  arm'd  with  that 
That  would  give  wildest  beasts  instincts  to  rescue 
Rather  than  offer  any  force  to  hurt  me —  55 

My  innocence,  which  is  a  conquering  justice 
A[nd]  wears  a  shield  that  both  defends  and  fights. 

AL     One  against  all  the  world  ! 

Chab,  The  more  the  odds. 

The  less  the  conquest ;   or,  if  all  the  world 
Be  thought  an  army  fit  to  employ  gainst  one,  60 

That  one  is  argued  fit  to  fight  gainst  all : 
If  I  fall  under  them,  this  breast  shaU  bear 
Their  heap  digested  in  my  sepulchre. 
Death  is  the  life  of  good  men :    let  'em  come. 

Enter  Constable,  Chancellor,  Treasurer,  and  Secretary 

Moni,    I  thought,  my  lord,  our  reconcilement  perfect.         65 
You  have  expressed  what  sea  of  gall  flow'd  in  you. 
In  tearing  of  the  bill  I  sent  to  allow. 

Chab,    Dare  you  confess  the  sending  of  that  bill  ? 

Mont,    Dare  ?    Why  not  ? 

Chab,  Because  it  brake  your  oath 

Made  in  our  reconcilement,  and  betrays  70 

The  honour  and  the  chief  life  of  the  King, 
Which  is  his  justice. 

Mont.     Betrays  ? 

Chab.  No  less,  and  that  I'll  prove  to  him. 

Omnes.     You  cannot) 

Treas.     I  would  not  wish  you  offer  at  an  action  75 

So  most  impossibly,  and  much  against 
The  judgment  and  the  favour  of  the  King. 

CAa6.     His  judgment  nor  his  favour  I  respect, 
So  I  preserve  his  justice. 

Chan.  'Tis  not  justice, 

Which  I'll  prove  by  law,  and  absolute  learning.  80 

Chab.    All  your  great  law  and  learning  are  but  words, 
When  I  plead  plainly  naked  truth  and  deeds. 
Which,  though  you  seek  to  fray  with  state  and  glory, 
I'll  shoot  a  shaft  at  all  your  globe  of  light ; 
If  lightning  spht  it,  yet  'twas  high  and  right.  Exit    85 

CD.W,  u 


290  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  II 

Mont,     Brave  resolution  !  So  his  acts  be  just. 
He  cares  for  gain  no[r]  honour. 

Chan.  How  came  he  then 

By  all  his  infinite  honour  and  his  gain  ? 

Treas,    Well  said,  my  lord  ! 

Sec,  Answer  but  only  that. 

Mont.    By  doing  justice  still  in  all  his  actions.  90 

Sec,    But  if  this  action  prove  unjust,  will  you 
Say  aU  his  other  may  be  so  as  well, 
And  think  your  own  course  fitter  far  than  his  ? 

Mont.     I  will.  Exit 

Chan.     He  cools,  we  must  not  leave  him  ;  we  have  no  95 

Such  engine  to  remove  the  Admiral.  Exeunt 

[SCENA   III 

Another  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  King  and  the  Admiral 

King.    I  prithee,  Philip,  be  not  so  severe 
To  him  I  favour  ;    'tis  an  argument 
That  may  serve  one  day  to  avail  yourself, 
Nor  does  it  square  ¥dth  your  so  gentle  nature. 
To  give  such  fires  of  envy  to  your  blood  ;  5 

For  howsoever  out  of  love  to  justice 
Your  jealousy  of  that  doth  so  incense  you. 
Yet  they  that  censure  it  wiU  say  'tis  envy. 

Chab.     I  serve  not  you  for  them  but  for  yourself. 
And  that  good  in  your  rule  that  justice  does  you ;  10 

And  care  not  this  what  others  say,  so  you 
Please  but  to  do  me  right  for  what  you  know. 

King.     You  will  not  do  yourself  right.      Why  should  I 
Exceed  you  to  yourself  ? 

Chab.  M3^5elf  am  nothing, 

Compar'd  to  what  I  seek;  'tis  justice  only,  15 

The  fount  and  flood  both  of  your  strength  and  kingdom's. 

King.     But  who  knows  not  that  extreme  justice  is 
(By  all  rul'd  laws)  the  extreme  of  injury. 
And  must  to  you  be  so  ;   the  persons  that 
Your  passionate  heat  calls  into  question  20 

Are  great  and  many,  and  may  wrong  in  you 
Your  rights  of  kind,  and  dignities  of  fortune ; 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  291 

And  I  advanc'd  you  not  to  heap  on  you 

Honours  and  fortunes,  that,  by  strong  hand  now 

Held  up  and  over  you,  when  heaven  takes  off  25 

That  powerful  hand,  should  thunder  on  your  head. 

And  after  you  crush  your  surviving  seeds. 

C?uib»    Sir,  your  regards  to  both  are  great  and  sacred  ; 
But,  if  the  innocence  and  right  that  rais'd  me 
And  means  for  mine,  can  find  no  friend  hereafter  30 

Of  Him  that  ever  Uves,  and  ever  seconds 
AH  kings'  just  bounties  with  defence  and  refuge 
In  just  men's  races,  let  my  fabric  ruin. 
My  stock  want  sap,  my  branches  by  the  root 
Be  torn  to  death,  and  swept  with  whirlwinds  out.  35 

King,    For  my  love  no  relenting  ? 

Chab.  No,  my  Liege. 

'Tis  for  your  love  and  right  that  I  stand  out. 

King,    Be  better  yet  advis'd. 

Chab,  •  I  cannot,  sir. 

Should  any  oracle  become  my  counsel; 

For  that  I  stand  not  out  thus  of  set  will  40 

Or  pride  of  any  singular  conceit. 
My  enemies  and  the  world  may  clearly  know  ; 
I  taste  no  sweets  to  drown  in  others'  gall. 
And  to  affect  in  that  which  makes  me  loathed, 
To  leave  myself  and  mine  expos'd  to  all  45 

The  dangers  you  propos'd,  my  purchas'd  honours 
And  all  my  fortunes  in  an-  instant  lost, 
That  m[a]ny  cares,  and  pains,  and  years  have  gather'd 
How  mad  were  I  to  rave  thus  in  my  wounds. 
Unless  my  known  health,  felt  in  these  forc'd  issues,  50 

Were  sound  and  fit;  and  that  I  did  not  know 
By  most  true  proofs  that  to  become  sincere 
With  all  men's  hates  doth  far  exceed  their  loves. 
To  be,  as  they  are,  mixtures  of  corruption ; 
And  that  those  envies  that  I  see  pursue  me  55 

Of  all  true  actions  are  the  natural  consequents 
Which  being  my  object  and  my  resolute  choice. 
Not  for  my  good  but  yours,  I  will  have  justice. 

King,     You  will  have  justice  ?    Is  your  wiU  so  strong 
Now  against  mine,  your  power  being  so  weak,  60 

Before  my  favour  gave  them  both  their  forces  ? 
Of  ail  that  ever  shar'd  in  my  free  graces. 
You,  Philip  Chabot,  a  mean  gentleman, 


292  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  II 

Have  not  I  rais'd  you  to  a  supremest  lord, 
And  given  you  greater  dignities  than  any  ?  65 

Chab,     You  have  so. 

King.  Well  said  ;   and  to  spur  your  dulness 

With  the  particulars  to  which  I  rais'd  you, 
Have  not  I  made  you  first  a  knight  of  the  Order, 
Then  Admiral  of  Fta,nce,  then  Count  Byzanges, 
Lord  and  lieutenant-General  of  all  70 

My  country  and  command  of  Burgundy ; 
Lieutenant-General  likewise  of  my  son, 
Dauphin  and  heir,  and  of  all  Normandy  ; 
And  of  my  chiefly  honour'd  Privy  Council 
And  cannot  all  these  powers  weigh  down  your  will  ?  75 

Chab,    No,  sir  ;   they  were  not  given  me  to  that  end. 
But  to  uphold  my  will,  my  will  being  just. 

King.    And  who  shall  judge  that  justice,  you  or  I  ? 

Chab.     I,  sir,  in  this  case  ;    your  roysl  thoughts  are  fitly 
Exempt  from  every  curious  search  of  one,  80 

You  have  the  general  charge  with  care  of  all. 

King.    And  do  not  generals  include  particulars  ? 
May  not  I  judge  of  anything  comprised 
In  your  particular,  as  well  as  you  ? 

Chab.    Far  be  the  misery  from  you  that  you  may  !  85 

My  cares,  pains,  broken  sleep,  therein  made  more 
Than  yours,  should  make  me  see  more,  and  my  forces 
Render  of  better  judgment. 

King.  Well,  sir,  grant 

Your  force  in  this ;   my  odds  in  benefits. 
Paid  for  your  pains,  put  in  the  other  scale,  90 

And  any  equal  holder  of  the  balance 
Will  show  my  merits  hoist  up  yours  to  air. 
In  rule  of  any  doubt  or  deed  betwixt  us. 

Chab.    You  merit  not  of  me  for  benefits. 
More  than  m3rself  of  you  for  services.  95 

King.    Is't  possible  ? 

Chab.  'Tis  true. 

King.  Stand  you  on  that  ? 

Chab.    Ay,  to  the  death,  and  will  approve  to  all  men. 

King.     I  am  deceived  but  I  shall  find  good  judges 
That  will  find  difierence. 

Chab.  Find  them,  being  good. 

King.     Still  so  ?    What,  if  conferring  IOQ 

My  bounties  and  your  services  to  sound  them. 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  293 

We  fall  foul  on  some  licences  of  yours  ? 
Nay,  give  me  therein  some  advantage  of  you. 

Chab.    They  cannot. 

King.    Not  in  sifting  their  severe  discharges  105 

Of  all  your  offices  ? 

Chab,  The  more  you  sift. 

The  more  you  shall  refine  me. 

King.  What  if  I 

Grant  out  against  you  a  commission, 
Join'd  with  an  extraordinary  process 
To  arrest  and  put  you  in  law's  hands  for  trial  ?  no 

Chab.    Not  with  law's  uttermost! 

King.  I'll  throw  the  dice. 

Chab.    And  I'll  endure  the  chance,  the  dice  being  square, 
Repos'd  in  dreadless  confidence  and  conscience. 
That  all  your  most  extremes  shall  never  reach. 
Or  to  my  life,  my  goods,  or  honour's  breach.  115 

King.    Was  ever  heard  so  fine  a  confidence  ? 
Must  it  not  prove  presumption  ?    And  can  that 
'Scape  bracks  and  errors  in  3^ur  search  of  law  ? 
I  prithee  weigh  yet  with  more  soul  the  danger. 
And  some  less  passion. 

Chab.  Witness,  heaven,  I  cannot,  120 

Were  I  dissolv'd,  and  nothing  else  but  soul. 

King  [aside].     Beshrew  my  blood,  but  his  resolves  amaze 
me. — 
Was  ever  such  a  justice  in  a  subject 
Of  so  much  office  left  to  his  own  swinge 
That,  left  to  law  thus  and  his  sovereign's  wrath,  125 

Could  stand  clear,  spite  of  both  ?    Let  reason  rule  it, 
Before  it  come  at  law :  a  man  so  rare 
In  one  thing  cannot  in  the  rest  be  vulgar ; 
And  who  sees  you  not  in  the  broad  highway, 
The  conmion  dust  up  in  your  own  eyes  beating,  130 

In  quest  of  riches,  honours,  offices, 
As  heartily  in  show  as  most  believe  ? 
And  he  that  can  use  actions  with  the  vulgar. 
Must  needs  embrace  the  same  effects,  and  cannot  (inform 

him). 
Whatsoever  he  pretends,  use  them  with  such  135 

Free  equity,  as  fits  one  just  and  real, 
Even  in  the  eyes  of  men,  nor  stand  at  all  parts 
So  truly  circular,  so  sound,  and  solid. 


294  THETTRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  II 

But  have  his  swellings-out,  his  cracks  and  crannies ; 

And  therefore,  in  this,  reason,  before  law  140 

Take  you  to  her,  lest  you  afEect  and  flatter 

Yourself  with  mad  opinions. 

Chab.  I  were  mad 

Directly,  sir,  if  I  were  yet  to  know 
Not  the  sure  danger,  but  the  certain  ruin 
Of  men  shot  into  law  from  kings'  bent  brow^  145 

There  being  no  dream  from  the  most  muddy  brain 
Upon  the  foulest  fancy,  that  can  forge 
More  horror  in  the  shadows  of  mere  fame, 
Than  can  some  lawyer  in  a  man  expos'd 
To  his  interpretation  by  the  king.  150 

But  these  grave  t03rs  I  shall  despise  in  death ; 
And  while  I  hve,  will  lay  'diem  open  so 
(My  innocence  laid  by  them),  that,  like  foils. 
They  shall  stick  off  my  merits  ten  times  more, 
And  make  your  bounties  nothing ;  for  who  gives  155 

And  hits  i'  th'  teeth,  himself  pa3rs  with  the  glory 
For  which  he  gave,  as  being  his  end  of  giving. 
Not  to  crown  merits  or  do  any  good, 
And  so  no  thanks  is  due  but  to  his  glory. 

King,     'Tis  brave,  I  swear  I 

Chab.  No,  sir,  'tis  plain  and  rude,  160 

But  true  and  spotless  ;  and  where  you  object 
My  hearty  and  gross  vulgar  love  of  riches, 
Titles,  and  honours,  I  did  never  seek  them 
For  any  love  to  them,  but  to  that  justice 
You  ought  to  use  in  their  due  gift  to  merits,  165 

To  show  you  royal,  and  most  open-handed, 
Not  using  for  hands,  talons,  pincers,  grapples  ; 
In  whose  gripes,  and  upon  whose  gor'd  point. 
Deserts  hang  sprawling  out  their  virtuous  limbs. 

King,    Better  and  better  f 

Chab,  This  your  glory  is,  170 

My  deserts  wrought  upon  no  wretched  matter. 
But  show'd  your  royal  palms  as  free  and  moist 
As  Ida,  all  enchas'd  witii  silver  springs. 
And  yet  my  merit  still  their  equal  sings. 

King.    Sing  till  thou  sigh  thy  soul  out ;  hence,  and  leave  us  I  175 

Chab,    My  person  shall,  my  love  and  faith  shall  never. 

King.     Perish  thy  love  and  faith,  and  thee  for  ever  f 

[Exit  Chabot] 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  295 

Who's  there  ? 

Enter  Asall 

Let  one  go  for  the  Chancellor. 
As.    He's  here  in  court,  sir. 

King.  Haste,  and  send  him  hither  I 

[Exit  AsaU] 
This  is  an  insolence  I  never  met  with.  180 

Can  one  so  high  as  his  degrees  ascend 
CUmb  all  so  free  and  without  stain  P 

Enter  Chancellor 

My  Lord 
Chancellor,  I  send  for  you  about  a  service 
Of  equal  price  to  me,  as  if  again 

My  ransom  came  to  me  from  Pavian  thraldom,  185 

And  more,  as  if  from  forth  a  subject's  fetters. 
The  worst  of  servitudes,  my  life  were  rescued. 

Chan.    You  fright  me  with  a  prologue  of  much  trouble. 

King,    Methinks  it  might  be.     Tell  me,  out  of  all 
Your  famous  learning,  was  there  ever  subject  190 

Rais'd  by  his  sovereign's  free  hand  from  the  dust 
Up  to  a  height  above  air's  upper  region, 
That  might  compare  with  him  in  any  merit 
That  so  advanc'd  him,  and  not  show,  in  that 
Gross  over-weening,  worthy  cause  to  think  195 

There  might  be  other  over-sights  excepted. 
Of  capital  nature  in  his  sifted  greatness  ? 

Chan.    And   past   question,    sir,   for   one   absurd   thing 
granted, 
A  thousand  follow. 

King.  You  must  then  employ 

Your  most  exact  and  curious  art  to  explore  200 

A  man  in  place  of  greatest  trust  and  charge, 
Whom  I  suspect  to  have  abus'd  them  all. 
And  in  whom  you  may  give  such  proud  veins  vent. 
As  will  bewray  their  boiling  blood,  corrupted 
Both  gainst  my  crown  and  life.  205 

Chan.    And  may  my  life  be  curs'd  in  every  act. 
If  I  explore  him  not  to  every  fi[b]re. 

King.     It  is  my  Admiral. 

Chan.  Oh,  my  good  Liege, 

You  tempt,  not  charge  me,  with  such  search  of  him. 


296  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  III 

King.    Doubt  not  my  heartiest  meaning  :  all  the  troubles  210 
That  ever  mov'd  in  a  distracted  king, 
Put  in  just  fear  of  his  assaulted  Ufe, 
Are  not  above  my  sufferings  for  Chabot. 

Chan.    Then  I  am  glad  and  proud  that  I  can  cure  you, 
For  he's  a  man  that  I  am  studied  in,  215 

And  all  his  offices,  and  if  you  please 
To  give  authority — 

King.  You  shall  not  want  it. 

Chan.     If  I  discharge  you  not  of  that  disease 
About  your  neck  grown,  by  your  strange  trust  in  him. 
With  full  discovery  of  the  foulest  treasons —  220 

King.  But  I  must  have  all  prov'd  with  that  free  justice. 

Chan.     Beseech  your  majesty,  do  not  question  it. 

King.    About  it  instantly,  and  take  me  wholly 
Upon  yourself. 

Chan,  How  much  you  grace  your  servant  I 

King.     Let  it  be  fiery  quick. 

Chan.  It  shall  have  wings,  225 

And  every  feather  show  the  flight  of  kings. 

[Exeunf] 


ACTUS  TERTIUS 

[SCENA    I 

A  Gallery] 

Enter  Chancellor  attended,  the  Proctor-General  whispering  in 
his  ear,  two  Judges  following  ;  they  past,  enter  Chabot,  in 
his  gown,  a  guard  about  him,  his  Father  and  his  Wife  on 
each  side,  Allegre  [guarded] 

Chab.    And  have  they  put  my  faithful  servant  to  the  rack  ? 
Heaven  arm  the  honest  man  ! 

Path.     Allegre  feels  the  mahce  of  the  Chancellor. 

Chab.     Many  upon  the  torture  have  confessed 
Things  against  truth,  and  yet  his  pain  sits  nearer  5 

Than  all  my  other  fears.     [To  his  Wife]  Come,  don't  weep. 

Wife.     My  lord,  I  do  not  grieve  out  of  a  thought 
Or  poor  suspicion,  they  with  all  their  malice 
Can  stain  your  honour ;  but  it  troubles  me 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  297 

The  King  should  grant  this  hcence  to  your  enemies,  10 

As  he  were  willing  to  hear  Chabot  guilty. 

Chab.    No  more  ;  the  King  is  just ;  and  by  exposing 
Me  to  this  trial,  means  to  render  me 
More  happy  to  his  subjects  and  himself. 

His  sacred  will  be  obey'd  ;  take  thy  own  spirit,  15 

And  let  no  thought  infringe  thy  peace  for  me  ; 
I  go  to  have  my  honours  all  confirm 'd. 
Farewell ;  thy  Up  [kisses  her]  :  my  cause  has  so  much  inno- 
cence. 
It  sha'  not  need  thy  prayer.     [To  Father]  I  leave  her  yours 
Till  my  return.     Oh,  let  me  be  a  son  20 

Still  in  your  thoughts.     Now,  gentlemen,  set  forward. 

Exit  [Chabot  with  Guards]     Manente  Father  and  Wife 

Faih.    See,  you  that  trust  in  greatness,  what  sustains  you  ; 
These  hazards  you  must  look  for,  you  that  thrust 
Your  heads  into  a  cloud,  where  He  in  ambush 
The  soldiers  of  state,  in  privy  arms  25 

Of  yellow  fire,  jealous,  and  mad  at  aU 
That  shoot  their  foreheads  up  into  their  forges, 
And  pry  into  their  gloomy  cabinets  ; 
You,  like  vain  citizens,  that  must  go  see 

Those  ever-burning  furnaces  wherein  30 

Your  brittle  glasses  of  estate  are  blown, 
Who  knows  not  you  are  all  but  pufi  and  bubble. 
Of  breath  and  fume  forg'd,  your  vile  brittle  natures 
Cause  of  your  deamess  ?  Were  you  tough  and  lasting, 
You  would  be  cheap,  and  not  worth  half  your  face.  35 

Now,  daughter  ;  planet-struck  ? 

Wife,  1  am  considering 

What  form  I  shall  put  on,  as  best  agreeing 
With  my  lord's  fortune. 

Fath.  Habit  do  you  mean. 

Of  mind,  or  body  ? 

Wife.  Both  would  be  apparell'd.  40 

Fath.     In  neither  you  have  reason  yet  to  mourn. 

Wife,     I'll  not  accuse  my  heart  of  so  much  weakness  ; 
Twere  a  confession  gainst  my  lord.     The  Queen  I 

Enter  Queen,  Constable,  Treasurer,  and  Secretary 

She  has  expressed  gainst  me  some  displeasure. 

Faih.    Let's  this  way  through  the  gallery.    [They  retire} 


298  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  III 

Queen.  'Tis  she. 

Do  3^u,  my  lord,  say  I  would  speak  with  her.  45 

[To  the  Treasurer]  And  has  Allegre,  one  of  chiefest  trust 

with  him, 
Sufier'd  the  rack  ?    The  Chancellor  is  violent : 
And  what's  confessed  ? 

Treas.    Nothing  ;  he  contemn'd  all 
That  could  with  any  cruellest  pain  explore  him, 
As  if  his  mind  had  robb'd  his  nerves  of  sense,  50 

And  through  them  diffus'd  fiery  spirits  above 
All  flesh  and  blood  ;  for,  as  his  limbs  were  stretch'd. 
His  contempts  too  extended. 

Queen.  A  strange  fortitude  ! 

Tfe<K.    But  we  shall  lose  th'  arraignment. 

Queen.  The  success 

Will  soon  arrive. 

Treas.  You'll  not  appear,  my  lord,  then  ?  55 

Mont.    I  desire  your  lordship  would  excuse  me. 

Treas.    We  are  your  servants. 

Exeunt  Treasurer  and  Secretary 

Mont.  She  attends  you,  madam. 

[Approaching  with  Wife  who  kneels'] 

Queen.    This  humbleness  proceeds  not  from  your  heart. 
Why,  you  are  a  queen  yourself  in  your  own  thoughts. 
The  Admiral's  wife  of  France  cannot  be  less  ;  60 

You  have  not  state  enough  ;  you  should  not  move 
Without  a  train  of  friends  and  servants. 

Wife.  There  is  some  mystery 

Within  your  language,  madam.     I  would  hope 
You  have  more  charity  than  to  imagine 

My  present  condition  worth  your  triumph,  65 

In  which  I  am  not  so  lost,  but  I  have 
Some  friends  and  servants  with  proportion' 
To  my  lord's  fortune  ;  but  none,  within  the  list 
Of  those  that  obey  me,  can  be  more  ready 
To  express  their  duties  than  my  heart  to  serve  70 

Your  just  commands. 

Queen.  Then  pride  will  ebb,  I  see  ; 

There  is  no  constant  flood  of  state  and  greatness  ; 
The  prodigy  is  ceasing  when  your  lord 
Comes  to  the  balance  ;  he  whose  blazing  fires 
Shot  wonders  through  the  kingdom,  will  discover  75 

What  flying  and  corrupted  matter  fed  him« 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  299 

Wife.    My  lord  ? 

Queen,  Your  high  and  mighty  justicer, 

The  man  of  conscience,  the  oracle 
Of  state,  whose  honourable  titles 

Would  crack  an  elephant's  back,  is  now  tum'd  mortal,         80 
Must  pass  examination  and  the  test 
Of  law,  have  all  his  offices  ripp'd  up. 
And  his  corrupt  soul  laid  open  to  the  subjects : 
His  bribes,  oppressions,  and  close  sins,  that  made 
So  many  groan  and  curse  him,  now  shall  find  85 

Their  just  reward,  and  all  that  love  their  country. 
Bless  heaven  and  the  King's  justice,  for  removing 
Such  a  devouring  monster. 

Faih,  [To  Montmorency,  coming  forward]  Sir,  your  pardon. 
Madam,  you  are  the  Queen,  she  is  my  daughter. 
And  he  that  you  have  character'd  so  monstrous,  90 

My  son-in-law,  now  gone  to  be  arraign'd. 
The  King  is  just,  and  a  good  man ;  but't  does  not 
Add  to  the  graces  of  your  royal  person 
To  tread  upon  a  lady  thus  dejected 

By  her  own  grief.     Her  lord's  not  yet  found  guilty,  95 

Much  less  condemn'd,  though  you  have  pleas 'd  to  execute  him. 

Queen,    What  saucy  fellow's  this  ? 

Fath.  I  must  confess 

I  am  a  man  out  of  this  element. 
No  courtier  ;  yet  I  am  a  gentleman 

That  dare  speak  honest  truth  to  the  Queen's  ear  100 

(A  duty  every  subject  wo'  not  pay  you). 
And  justify  it  to  all  the  world.    There's  nothing 
Doth  more  eclipse  the  honours  of  our  soul 
Than  an  ill-grounded  and  ill-followed  passion. 
Let  fly  with  noise  and  licence  against  those  105 

Whose  hearts  before  are  bleeding. 

Mont,  Brave  old  man  ! 

Fath,    Cause  you  are  a  queen,  to  trample  o'er  a  woman 
Whose  tongue  and  faculties  are  all  tied  up  t 
Strike  out  a  lion's  teeth  and  pare  his  claws. 
And  then  a  dwarf  may  pluck  him  by  the  beard.  no 

'Tis  a  gay  victory ! 

Queen,     [To  Montmorency]    Did  you  hear,  my  lord  ? 

Fath,    I  ha'  done. 

Wife    [rising]  And  it  concerns  me  to  begin. 

I  have  not  made  this  pause  through  servile  fear 


300  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT         [Act  III 

Or  guilty  apprehension  of  your  rage, 

But  with  just  wonder  of  the  heats  and  wildness  115 

Has  prepossessed  your  nature  gainst  our  innocence. 

You  are  my  Queen  ;  unto  that  title  bows 

The  humblest  knee  in  France,  my  heart  made  lower 

With  my  obedience  and  prostrate  duty ; 

Nor  have  I  powers  created  for  my  use,  120 

When  just  commands  of  you  expect  their  service ; 

But  were  you  Queen  of  all  the  world,  or  something 

To  be  thought  greater,  betwixt  heaven  and  us. 

That  I  could  reach  you  with  my  eyes  and  voice, 

I  would  shoot  both  up  in  defence  of  my  125 

Abused  honour,  and  stand  all  your  lightning. 

Queen,     So  brave  ! 

Wife.  So  just,  and  boldly  innocent, 

I  cannot  fear,  arm'd  with  a  noble  conscience. 
The  tempest  of  your  frown,  were  it  more  frightful 
Than  ever  fury  made  a  woman's  anger,  130 

Prepared  to  kill  with  death's  most  horrid  ceremony ; 
Yet  with  what  freedom  of  my  soul  I  can 
Forgive  your  accusation  of  my  pride  I 

Queen.  *  Forgive '  ?  What  insolence  is  like  this  language  ? 
Can  any  action  of  ours  be  capable  135 

Of  thy  forgiveness  ?    Dust,  how  I  despise  thee  ! 
Can  we  sin  to  be  object  of  thy  mercy  ? 

Wife.     Yes,  and  have  done't  already,  and  no  stain 
To  your  greatness,  madam  ;  'tis  my  charity, 
I  can  remit.    When  sovereign  princes  dare  140 

Do  injury  to  those  that  live  beneath  them. 
They  turn  worth  pity  and  their  pray'rs,  and  'tis 
In  tiie  free  power  of  those  whom  they  oppress 
To  pardon  'em ;  each  soul  has  a  prerogative, 
And  privilege  royal,  that  was  sign'd  by  Heaven.  145 

But,  though  i'  th'  knowledge  of  my  disposition. 
Stranger  to  pride,  and  what  you  charge  me  with, 
I  can  forgive  the  injustice  done  to  me. 
And  striking  at  my  person,  I  have  no 

Conunission  from  my  lord  to  clear  you  for  150 

The  wrongs  you  have  done  him;  and  till  he  pardon 
The  wounding  of  his  loyalty,  with  which  life 
Can  hold  no  balance,  I  must  take  just  boldness 
To  say — 

Fath.        No  more.    Now  I  must  tell  you,  daughter. 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  301 

Lest  you  forget  yourself,  she  is  the  Queen;  155 

And  it  becomes  not  you  to  vie  with  her 

Passion  for  passion :  if  your  lord  stand  fast 

To  the  full  search  of  law,  Heaven  will  revenge  him. 

And  give  him  up  precious  to  good  men's  loves. 

If  you  attempt  by  these  unruly  ways  160 

To  vindicate  his  justice,  I'm  against  you. 

Dear  as  I  wish  your  husband's  life  and  fame : 

[Subjects]  are  bound  to  suffer,  not  contest 

With  princes,  since  their  will  and  acts  must  be 

Accounted  one  day  to  a  Judge  supreme.  165 

Wife.     I  ha'  done.     If  the  devotion  to  my  lord. 

Or  piety  to  his  innocence,  have  led  me 

Beyond  the  awful  Umits  to  be  observ'd 

By  one  so  much  beneath  your  sacred  person, 

I  thus  low  crave  your  royal  pardon,  madam.      [Kneeling] 

I  know  you  will  remember  in  your  goodness,  170 

My  life-blood  is  concem'd  while  his  least  vein 

Shall  run  black  and  polluted,  my  heart  fed 

With  what  keeps  him  alive,  nor  can  there  be 

A  greater  wound  than  that  which  strikes  the  life  175 

^  Of  our  good  name,  so  much  above  the  bleeding 

Of  this  rude  pile  we  carry,  as  the  sotd 

Hath  excellence  above  this  earth-bom  frailty. 

My  lord,  by  the  King's  will,  is  led  already 

To  a  severe  arraignment,  and  to  judges  180 

Will  make  no  tender  search  into  his  tract 

Of  life  and  state.     Stay  but  a  little  while. 

And  France  shall  echo  to  his  shame  or  innocence. 

This  suit  I  beg  with  tears  ;  I  shall  have  sorrow 

Enough  to  hear  him  censur'd  foul  and  monstrous,  185 

Should  you  forbear  to  antedate  my  sufferings. 

Queen,     Your  conscience  comes  about,  and  you  incline 

To  fear  he  may  be  worth  the  law's  condemning. 
Wife,    I  sooner  will  suspect  the  stars  may  lose 

Their  way,  and  crystal  heaven  return  to  chaos  ;  190 

Truth  sits  not  on  her  square  more  firm  than  he : 

Yet,  let  me  tell  you,  madam,  were  his  life 

And  action  so  foul  as  you  have  character'd 

And  the  bad  world  expects,  though  as  a  wife 

'Twere  duty  I  should  weep  myself  to  death  I95 

To  know  him  fall'n  from  virtue,  yet  so  much 

I,  a  trail  woman,  love  my  King  and  Country* 


302  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT         [Act  III 

I  should  condemn  him  too,  and  think  all  honours. 

The  price  of  his  lost  faith,  more  fatal  to  me 

Than  Cleopatra's  asps  warm  in  my  bosom,  200 

And  as  much  boast  their  killing. 

Queen  [aside].  This  declares 

Another  soul  than  was  deliver'd  me. 
My  anger  melts,  and  I  begin  to  pity  her. 
How  much  a  prince's  ear  may  be  abus'd ! — 
Enjoy  your  happy  confidence ;  at  more  leisure  205 

You  may  hear  from  us. 

Wife.  Heaven  preserve  the  Queen, 

And  may  her  heart  be  charitable  I 

Fath.     You  bless  and  honour  your  unworthy  servant. 

[Exit  Wife  and  Father] 

Queen,    My  lord,  did  you  observe  this  ? 

Mont.  Yes,  great  madam. 

And  read  a  noble  spirit,  which  becomes  210 

The  wife  of  Chabot !    Their  great  tie  of  marriage 
Is  not  more  strong  upon  'em  than  their  virtues. 

Queen.    That  your  opinion  ?    I  thought  your  judgment 
Against  the  Admiral.    Do  you  think  him  honest  ? 

Mont.     ReUgiously  ;  a  true,  most  zealous  patriot,  215 

And  worth  all  royal  favour. 

Queen.  You  amaze  me. 

Can  you  be  just  yourself  then,  and  advance 
Your  powers  against  him  ? 

Mont.  Such  a  will  be  far 

From  Montmorency.     Pioneers  of  state 
Have  left  no  art  to  gain  me  to  their  faction. 
And  'tis  my  misery  to  be  plac'd  in  such  220 

A  sphere,  where  I  am  whirl'd  by  violence 
Of  a  fierce  raging  motion,  and  not  what 
My  own  will  would  incline  me.     I  shall  make 
This  appear,  madam,  if  you  please  to  second  225 

My  free  speech  with  the  King. 

Queen.  Good  heaven  protect  all ! 

Haste  to  the  King  ;  Justice  her  swift  wing  needs ; 
Tis  high  time  to  be  good  when  virtue  bleeds.         Exeunt 

[SCENA   II 

A  Court  of  Justice} 
Enter  Officers  before  the  Chancellor,  Judges,  the  Proctor-General 


Sc.  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  303 

whispwing  with  the  Chancellor ;  they  tahe  their  places :  to 
them  enter  Treasurer  and  Secretary,  who  tahe  their  places 
prepared  on  one  side  of  the  Court.  To  them  the  Captain  of 
the  Guard,  the  Admiral  following,  who  is  placed  at  the  bar. 

Chan,    Good  Master  Proctor-General,  begin. 

Proe.  It  is  not  unknown  to  you,  my  very  good  lords  the 
Judges,  and  indeed  to  all  the  world,  for  I  will  make  short  work, 
since  your  honourable  ears  need  not  to  be  enlarged — I  speak 
by  a  figure — with  prolix  enumeration,  how  infinitely  the  King 
hath  favoured  this  ill-favoured  traitor  ;  and  yet  I  may  worth-  5 
ily  too  insist  and  prove  that  no  grace  hath  been  so  large  and 
voluminous  as  this,  that  he  hath  appointed  such  upright 
judges  at  this  time,  and  the  chief  of  this  Triumvirie,  our  Chan- 
cellor, by  name  Poyet,  which  deriveth  from  the  Greek  his 
etymology,  from  nottiy,  which  is,  to  make,  to  create,  to  in-  10 
vent  matter  that  was  never  esctant  in  nature  ;  from  whence 
also  is  the  name  and  dignity  of  Poeta — ^which  I  will  not  insist 
upon  in  this  place,  although  I  am  confident  his  lordship  want- 
eth  no  faculty  in  making  of  verses.  But  what  addition,  I  say, 
is  it  to  the  honour  of  this  delinquent,  that  he  hath  such  a  15 
judge,  a  man  so  learned,  so  full  of  equity,  so  noble,  so  notable, 
in  the  progress  of  his  life  so  innocent,  in  the  manage  of  his 
office  so  incorrupt,  in  the  passages  of  state  so  wise,  in  affection 
to  his  country  so  religious,  in  all  his  services  to  the  King  so 
fortunate  and  exploring,  as  envy  itself  cannot  accuse,  or  20 
malice  vitiate,  whom  all  lips  will  open  to  commend,  but  those 
of  Philip,  and  in  their  hearts  will  erect  altars  and  statues, 
columns  and  obelisks,  pillars  and  p3a'amids,  to  the  perpetuity 
of  his  name  and  memory.  What  shall  I  say  ?  but  conclude 
for  his  so  great  and  sacred  service,  both  to  our  King  and  king-  25 
dom,  and  for  their  everlasting  benefit,  there  may  everlastingly 
be  left  here  one  of  his  loins ;  one  of  his  loins  ever  remain,  I  say, 
and  stay  upon  this  Bench,  to  be  the  example  of  all  justice, 
even  while  the  north  and  south  star  shall  continue. 

Chan,    You  express  your  oratory.  Master  Proctor  ;  I  pray    30 
come  presently  to  the  matter. 

Proc.  Thus,  with  your  lordship's  pardon,  I  proceed  ;  and 
the  first  thing  I  shall  glance  at  will  be  worth  your  lordship's  re- 
flection— ^his  ingratitude ;  and  to  whom?  To  no  less  person  than 
along.  Andtowhatking?  His  own,  and  our  general  Sovereign,  35 
— pro  Deum  aique  hominum  fidem — a  king  and  such  a  long, 
the  healthy  life,  and  soul  of  us  all»  whose  very  mention  draws 


304  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT         [Act  III 

this  salt  water  from  my  eyes  ;  for  he,  indeed,  is  our  e3^,  who 
wakes  and  watches  for  us  when  we  sleep— -and  who  will  not 
sleep  for  him  ?  I  mean  not  sleep,  which  the  philosophers  caU  40 
a  natural  cessation  of  the  common,  and,  consequently,  of  all 
the  exterior  senses,  caused  first  and  immediately  by  a  deten- 
tion of  spirits,  which  can  have  no  communication,  since  the 
way  is  obstructed  by  which  these  spirits  should  commerce,  by 
vapours  ascending  from  the  stomach  to  the  head ;  by  which  45 
evaporation  the  roots  of  the  nerves  are  filled,  through  which 
the  [animal]  spirits  [use]  to  be  poured  into  the  dweUings  of  the 
external  senses ; — but  sleep,  I  take  for  death,  which  all  know  to 
be  ultima  linea.  Who  will  not  sleep  eternally  for  such  a  king 
as  we  enjoy  ?  If,  therefore,  in  general,  as  he  is  King  of  us  all,  50 
all  sharing  and  dividing  the  benefits  of  this  our  Sovereign, 
none  should  be  so  ingrateful  as  once  to  murmur  against  him, 
what  shall  be  said  of  the  ingratitude  more  monstrous  in  this 
Chabot  ?  For  our  Francis  hathloved,  not  in  general,  and  in  the 
crowd  with  other  subjects,  but  particularly,  this  Philip  ;  ad-  55 
vanced  him  to  the  supreme  dignity  of  a  statesman,  lodged  him 
in  his  very  heart,  yet — monstrum  horrendum—even  to  this 
Francis  hath  Philip  been  ingrateful.  Brutus,  the  loved  son, 
hath  stabbed  Caesar  with  a  bodkin.  Oh,  what  brute  may  be 
compared  to  him,  and  in  what  particulars  may  this  crime  be  60 
exemplified  ?  He  hath,  as  we  say,  chopped  logic  with  the  king  ; 
nay,  to  the  very  teeth  of  his  sovereign,  advanced  his  own 
gnat-like  merits,  and  justified  with  Luciferous  pride  that  his 
services  have  deserved  more  than  all  the  bounty  of  our 
munificent  King  hath  paid  him.  65 

Chan.     Observe  that,  my  lords. 

Proc.  Nay,  he  hath  gone  further,  and  most  traitorously 
hath  committed  outrage  and  impiety  to  the  King's  own  hand 
and  royal  character,  which,  presented  to  him  in  a  bill  from 
the  whole  council,  he  most  violently  did  tear  in  pieces,  and  70 
will  do  the  very  body  and  person  of  our  King,  if  3^ur  justice 
make  no  timely  prevention,  and  strike  out  the  serpentine 
teeth  of  this  high  and  more  than  horrible  monster. 

Treas,    This  was  enforced  home. 

Proc.  In  the  next  place,  I  will  relate  to  your  honours  his  75 
most  cruel  exactions  upon  the  subject,  the  old  vant-couriers 
of  rebellions.  In  the  year  1 536  and  37,  this  oppressor  and  this 
extortioner  under  pretext  of  his  due  taxation,  being  Admiral, 
imposed  upon  certain  fishermen  (observe,  I  beseech  you,  the 
circumstance  of  their  persons,  fishermen),  who,  poor  Johns,    8q 


Sc.  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  305 

were  embarked  upon  the  coast  of  Normandy  and  fishing  there 
for  herrings  (which  some  say  is  the  king  of  fishes),  he  imposed, 
I  say,  twenty  sous,  and  upon  every  boat  six  livres.     O  intoler- 
able exaction  !  Enough,  not  only  to  alienate  the  hearts  of  these 
miserable  people  from  their  idng,  which,  ipso  facto ^  is  high     85 
treason,  but  an  occasion  of  a  greater  inconvenience  for  want 
of  due  provision  of  fish  among  the  subjects  ;  for  by  this  might 
ensue  a  necessity  of  mortal  sins,  by  breaking  llie  religious 
fast  upon  Vigils,  Embers,  and  other  days  commanded  by 
sacred  authority,  besides  the  miserable  rut  that  would  follow,     90 
and  perhaps  contagion,  when  feasting  and  flesh  should  be 
licensed  for  every  carnal  appetite. — T  could  urge  many  more 
particulars  of  his  dangerous,  insatiate,  and  boundless  avarice  ; 
but  the  improvement  of  his  estate  in  so  few  years,  from  a 
private  gentleman's  fortune  to  a  great  duke's  revenues,  might    95 
save  our  Sovereign  therein  an  orator  to  enforce  and  prove 
faulty,  even  to  giantism  against  heaven. 

Judge,    This  is  but  a  noise  of  words. 

Pfoc,  To  the  foul  outrages  so  violent,  let  us  add  his  commis- 
sions granted  out  of  his  own  presumed  authority — ^his  Majesty  100 
neither  [informed]  or  respected — his  disloyalties,  infidehties, 
contempts,  oppressions,  extortions,  with  innumerable  abuses, 
offences,  and  forfeits,  both  to  his  Majesty's  most  royal  person, 
crown,  and  dignity  ;  yet,  notwithstanding  all  these  injustices, 
this  unmatchable,  unjust  delinquent  affecteth  to  be  thought  105 
inculpable  and  incomparable  just ;  but,  alas  !  my  most  learned 
lord[s],  none  knows  better  than  yourselves  how  easy  the  sin- 
cerity of  justice  is  pretended,  how  hard  it  is  to  be  performed, 
and  how  common  it  is  for  him  that  hath  least  colour  of  title 
to  it,  to  be  thought  the  very  substance  and  soul  of  it ;  he  no 
that  was  never  true  scholar  in  the  least  degree,  longs,  as  a 
woman  with  child,  to  be  great  with  scholar ;  she  that  was  never 
with  child  longs,  omnibus  viis  et  modis,  to  be  got  with  child, 
and  will  wear  a  cushion  to  seem  with  child  ;  and  he  that  was 
never  just,  will  fly  in  the  King's  face  to  be  counted  just,  115 
though  for  all  he  be  nothing  but  just  a  traitor. 

Sec.     The  Admiral  smiles. 

Judge.  Answer  yourself,  my  lord. 

Chab.     I  shall,  and  briefly : 
The  furious  eloquence  of  my  accuser  hath 
Branch'd  my  offences  heinous  to  the  King,  120 

And  then  his  subject,  a  most  vast  indictment. 
That  to  the  king  I  have  justified  my  merit 

C.D.W.  X 


306  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  III 

And  services ;   which  conscience  of  that  truth 

That  gave  my  auctions  life,  when  they  are  questioned* 

I  ought  to  urge  again,  and  do  without  125 

The  least  part  of  injustice.    For  the  bill, 

A  foul  and  most  unjust  one,  and  preferr'd 

Gainst  the  King's  honour  and  his  subjects'  privilege 

And  with  a  poUcy  to  betray  my  office 

And  faith  to  both,  I  do  confess  I  tore  it,  130 

It  being  press'd  immodestly,  but  without 

A  thought  of  disobedience  to  his  name ; 

To  whose  mention  I  bow,  with  humble  reverence. 

And  dare  appeal  to  the  King's  knowledge  of  me 

How  far  I  am  in  soul  from  such  a  rebel.  135 

For  the  rest,  my  lord,  and  you,  my  honour'd  Judges, 

Since  aU  this  mountain,  all  this  time  in  labour 

With  more  than  mortal  fury  'gainst  my  life. 

Hath  brought  forth  nought  but  some  ridiculous  vermin, 

I  will  not  wrong  my  right  and  innocence  140 

With  any  serious  plea  in  my  reply. 

To  frustrate  breath  and  fight  with  terrible  shadow[s,] 

That  have  been  forg'd  and  forc'd  against  my  state, 

But  leave  aU,  with  my  life,  to  your  free  censures, 

Only  beseeching  aU  your  learned  judgments,  145 

Equal  and  pious  conscience,  to  weigh — 

Pfoc.  And  how  this  great  and  mighty  fortune  has  exalted 
him  to  pride  is  apparent,  not  only  in  his  braves  and  bearings 
to  the  King,  the  fountain  of  aU  this  increase,  but  in  his  con- 
tempt and  scorn  of  the  subject,  his  vast  expenses  in  buildings,  1 50 
his  private  bounties,  above  ToyH,  to  soldiers  and  scholars, 
that  he  may  be  the  general  and  patron  and  protector  of  arms 
and  arts  ;  the  number  of  domestic  attendants,  an  army  of 
grasshoppers  and  gay  butterflies,  able  to  devour  the  spring  ; 
his  glorious  wardrobes,  his  stable  of  horses,  that  are  pricked  155 
with  provender,  and  will  enforce  us  to  weed  up  our  vineyards, 
to  sow  oats  for  supply  of  their  provision  ;  his  caroches  shin- 
ing with  gold,  and  more  bright  than  the  chariot  of  the  sun, 
wearing  out  the  pavements — nay,  he  is  of  late  so  transcen- 
dency proud  that  men  must  be  his  mules  and  carry  him  up  160 
and  down,  as  it  were  in  a  procession  for  men  to  gaze  at  him,  till 
their  chines  crack  with  the  weight  of  his  insupportable  pride, 
and  who  knows  but  this  may  prove  a  fashion  ?  But  who 
groans  for  this  ?  The  subject !  Who  murmur,  and  are  ready  to 
begin  a  rebellion,  but  the  tumultuous  sailors  and  water-rats,  165 


Sc  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  307 

who  run  up  and  down  the  city,  like  an  overbearing  tempest, 
cursing  the  Admiral,  who  in  duty  ought  to  undo  himself  for 
the  general  satisfaction  of  his  countr3nnen  ? 

Chab.    The  variety  and  wonder  now  presented 
To  your  most  noble  notice  and  the  world's,  170 

That  all  my  life  and  actions  and  offices 
Explor'd  with  aU  the  hundred  eyes  of  law. 
Lighted  with  lightning,  shot  out  of  the  wrath 
Of  an  incens'd  and  commanding  king, 

And  blown  with  foes  with  far  more  bitter  winds  175 

Than  Winter  from  his  Eastern  cave  exhales. 
Yet  nothing  found,  but  what  you  all  have  heard ; 
And  then  consider  if  a  peer  of  state 
Should  be  expos'd  to  such  a  wild  arraignment 
For  poor  complaints — his  fame,  faith,  life,  and  honours        180 
Rack'd  for  no  more. 

Chan.  No  more  ?     Good  Heaven  !    What  say 

My  leam'd  assistants  ? 

jsi  Judge.    My  lord,  the  crimes  urg'd  here  for  us  to  censure 
As  capital  and  worth  this  high  arraignment. 
To  me  seem  strange,  because  they  do  not  fall  185 

In  force  of  law  to  arraign  a  Peer  of  state  ; 
For  all  that  law  can  take  into  her  power 
To  sentence  is  the  exaction  of  the  fishermen. 

2nd  Judge.     Here  is  no  majesty  violated :    I  consent 
To  what  my  brother  has  express'd. 

Chan.  Break  then  in  wonder,  190 

My  frighted  words  out  of  their  fonning  powers, 
That  you  no  more  collect  from  all  these  forfeits 
That  Master  Proctor-General  hath  opened 
With  so  apparent  and  impulsive  learning 
Against  the  rage  and  madness  of  the  ofEender,  195 

And  violate  majesty,  my  learned  assistants, 
When  majest3r's  affronted  and  defied, 
(It  being  compared  with,  and  in  such  an  onset 
As  leap'd  into  his  throat,  his  life  affrighting  1) 
Be  justified  in  all  insolence  all  subjects,  300 

If  this  be  so  considered,  and  insult 
Upon  your  privileg'd  maUce  !    Is  not  majesty 
Poison'd  in  this  wonder,  and  no  felony   set 
Where  royalty  is  robb'd  and  [violate]  ? 

Fie,  how  it  fights  with  law,  and  grates  upon  205 

Her  brain  and  soul,  and  all  the  powers  of  reason  1 


3o8  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT         [Act  HI 

Reporter  of  the  process,  show  the  schedule. 

Notary.    Here,  my  good  lord. 

isi  Judge.  No  altering  it  m  as. 

2nd  Judge.     Far  be  it  from  ns,  sir. 

Chan.  Here's  silken  jnstice  ! 

It  might  be  altered  ;   mend  your  sentences.  210 

Both.    Not  we,  my  lord  ! 

Chan.  Not  yon  ?     The  King  shall  know 

You  slight  a  duty  to  his  will  and  safety. 
Give  me  your  pen  ;   it  must  be  capital. 

15^  Judge,    lilake  what  you  please,  my  lord  ;   our  doom 
shaU  stand. 

Chan.    Thus,  I  subscribe  :   now,  at  your  perils,  follow.       215 

Both,     Perils,  my  lord  ?  Threats  in  the  King's  free  justice  ? 

Treas.     I  am  amaz'd  they  can  be  so  remiss. 

Sec,    Merciful  men,  pitiful  judges,  certain ! 

15/  Judge  [aside].    Subscribe ;    it  matters  nothing,  being 
constrained. 
On  this  side  [V],  and  on  this  side  this  capital  /,  220 

Both  which  together  put,  import  plain  Vi  ; 
And  witness  we  are  forc'd. 

2nd  Judge  [aside].  Enough  ; 

It  will  acquit  us,  when  we  make  it  known. 
Our  names  are  forc'd. 

Chan.  If  traitorous  pride 

Upon  the  royal  person  of  a  king  225 

Were  sentenc'd  unfeloniously  before, 
I'll  bum  my  books,  and  be  a  judge  no  more. 

Both.    Here  are  our  hands  subscribed. 

Chan.  Why,  so  !  It  joys  me. 

You  have  reform'd  your  justice  and  your  judgment. 
Now  have  you  done  like  judges  and  learned  lawyers ;  230 

The  King  shall  thank  and  honour  yDu  for  this. 
Notary,  read. 

Not.  We,  by  his  sacred  Majesty  appointed  fudges,  upon  due 
trial  and  examination  of  Philip  Chabot,  Admiral  of  France, 
declare  him  guilty  of  high  treasons,  etc.  235 

Chan,     Now,  Captain  of  the  guard,  secure  his  person 
Till  the  King  signify 

His  pleasure  for  his  death.     This  day  is  happy 
To  France,  thus  rescued  from  the  vile  devourer. 

A  shout  within 
Hark,    how  the  votes  applaud  their  blest  deliverance!         240 


Sa  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  309 

[To  Chabot]    You  that  so  late  did  right  and  conscience 

boast, 
Heaven's  mercy  now  implore,  the  King's  is  lost.      Exeunt 

ACTUS  QUARTUS 
[SCENA  I 
A  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  King,  Queen,  and  Constable 

King,  You  raise  my  thoughts  to  wonder,  that  you,  madam. 
And  you,  my  lord,  unite  your  force  to  plead 
V  th'  Admiral's  behalf :    this  is  not  that 
Language  you  did  express,  when  the  torn  bill 
Was  late  pretended  to  us ;    it  was  then  5 

Defiance  to  our  high  prerogative. 
The  act  of  him  whose  proud  heart  would  rebel, 
And,  arm'd  with  faction,  too  soon  attempt 
To  tear  my  crown  off. 

Queen,  I  was  ignorant 

Then  of  his  worth,  and  heard  but  the  report  10 

Of  his  accusers  and  his  enemies. 
Who  never  mention  in  his  character 
Shadows  of  any  virtue  in  those  men 
They  would  depress  :    Like  crows  and  carrion  birds, 
They  fly  o'er  flowery  meads,  clear  springs,  fair  gardens,         15 
And  stoop  at  carcases.     For  your  own  honour. 
Pity  poor  Chabot. 

King»  Poor,  and  a  Colossus 

That  could  so  lately  straddle  o'er  a  province  ? 
Can  he  be  fallen  so  low  and  miserable. 

To  want  my  pity,  who  breaks  forth  like  day,  20 

Takes  up  sdl  people's  eyes  and  admiration  ? 
It  cannot  be.     He  hath  a  princely  wife,  too. 

Queen,     I  interpose  not  often,  sir,  or  press  you 
With  unbecoming  importunity 

To  serve  the  profitable  ends  of  others.  25 

Conscience  and  duty  to  yourself  enforce 
My  present  mediation ;    you  have  given 
The  health  of  your  own  state  away,  unless 
Wisdom  in  time  recover  him. 

King.  If  he  prove 

No  adulterate  gold,  trial  confirms  his  value.  30 


310  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  IV 

Queen.    Although  it  hold  in  metal,  gracious  sir, 
Such  fiery  examination  and  the  furnace 
May  waste  a  heart  that's  faithful,  and  together 
With  that  you  call  the  faces,  something  of 
The  precious  substance  may  be  hazarded.  35 

King,    [To  the  Constable]  Why,  you  are  the  chief  engine 
rais'd  against  him. 
And  in  the  world's  creed  labour  most  to  sink  him 
That  in  his  fall  and  absence  every  beam 
May  shine  on  you  and  only  gild  your  fortune. 
Your  difference  is  the  ground  of  his  arraignment ;  40 

Nor  were  we  unsolicited  by  you 
To  have  your  bill  confirm'd ;    from  that,  that  spring. 
Came  all  these  mighty  and  impetuous  waves, 
With  which  he  now  must  wrestle ;    if  the  strength 
Of  his  own  innocence  can  break  the  storm,  45 

Truth  wo'  not  lose  her  servant,  her  wings  cover  him. 
He  must  obey  his  fate. 

Mont,  I  would  not  have 

It  lie  upon  my  fame  that  I  should  be 
Mentioned  in  story  his  unjust  supplanter 
For  your  whole  kingdom.     I  have  been  abused,  50 

And  made  believe  my  suit  was  just  and  necessary ; 
My  walks  have  not  been  safe,  my  closet  prayers. 
But  some  plot  has  pursued  me  by  some  great  ones 
Agamst  your  noble  Admiral ;    they  have  frighted 
My  fancy  into  my  dreams  with  their  close  whispers  55 

How  to  uncement  your  affections, 
And  render  him  the  fable  and  the  scorn 
Of  France. 

Queen.        Brave  Montmorency  I 

King,  Are  you  serious  ? 

Mont,     Have  I  a  soul  or  gratitude  to  acknowledge 
Myself  your  creature,  dignified  and  honoured  60 

By  your  high  favours  ?  With  an  equal  truth 
I  must  declare  the  justice  of  your  Admiral 
(In  what  my  thoughts  are  conscious),  and  will  rather 
Give  up  my  claim  to  birth,  title,  and  offices. 
Be  thrown  from  your  warm  smile,  the  top  and  crown  65 

Of  subjects'  happiness,  than  be  brib'd  with  aU 
Their  glories  to  the  guilt  of  Chabot's  ruin. 

King.    Come,  come ;    you  overact  this  passion. 
And  if  it  be  not  policy,  it  tastes 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  311 

Too  green,  and  wants  some  counsel  to  mature  it ;  70 

His  fall  prepares  your  triumph. 

Mont.  It  confirms 

My  shame  alive,  and,  buried,  will  corrupt 
My  very  dust,  make  our  house-genius  groan. 
And  fright  the  honest  marble  from  my  ashes. 
His  fall  prepare  my  triumph  1  Turn  me  first  75 

A  naked  exile  to  the  world. 

King.  No  more ; 

Take  heed  you  banish  not  yourself;    be  wise. 
And  let  not  too  much  zeal  devour  your  reason. 

Enter  Asall 

As.    Your  Admiral  is  condemn'd,  sir. 

King.  Ha,  strange  I     No  matter  ; 

Leave  us.      [Exit  Asall]    A  great  man,  I  see,  may  be  80 

As  soon  dispatch'd  as  a  conmion  subject. 

Queen.    No  mercy  then  for  Chabot  1 

Enter  Wife  and  Father 

Wife.  From  whence  came 

That  sound  of  Chabot  ?     Then  we  are  all  undone. 
[Kneeling]     Oh,  do  not  hear  the  Queen,  she  is  no  friend 
To  my  poor  lord,  but  made  against  his  life,  85 

Which  hath  too  many  enemies  already  I 

Mont.  [TotheFa,iheT]    Poor  soul  I     She  thinks  the  Queen 
is  still  against  him. 
Who  employeth  all  her  powers  to  preserve  him. 

Fath.    Say  you  so,  my  lord  ?    Daughter,  the  Queen's  our 
friend. 

Wife.     Why  do  you  mock  my  sorrow  ?     Can  you  flatter     90 
Your  own  grief  so  ?     [To  the  King]      Be  just  and  hear  me, 

sir. 
And  do  not  sacrifice  a  subject's  blood 
To  appease  a  wrathful  Queen ;    let  mercy  shine 
Upon  your  brow,  and  heaven  will  pay  it  back 
Upon  your  soul :    be  deaf  to  aU  her  prayers.  95 

King.    Poor  heart,  she  knows  not  what  she  has  desir'd. 

Wife.    I  beg  my  Chabot's  life ;  my  sorrows  yet 
Have  not  destroy'd  my  reason. 

King.  He  is  in  the  power 

Of  my  laws,  not  mine. 

Wife.  Then  you  have  no  power, 


312  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  IV 

And  axe  but  the  empty  shadow  of  a  king.  icx> 

To  whom  is  it  resign'd.     Where  shall  I  beg 
The  forfeit  life  of  one  condemn'd  by  law's 
Too  partial  doom  ? 

King.  You  hear  he  is  condemn'd  then  ? 

Fath,    My  son  is  condemn'd,  sir. 

King.  You  know  for  what  too  ? 

Fath.     What  the  judges  please  to  call  it ;  105 

But  they  have  given  't  a  name — ^treason,  they  say. 

Queen.     I  must  not  be  denied. 

King.  I  must  deny  you. 

Wife.     Be  blest  for  ever  for't! 

Queen.  Grant  then  to  her. 

King.    Chabot  condemned  by  law  ! 

Fath.  But  you  have  power 

To  change  the  rigour;    in  your  breast  there  is  no 

A  chancellor  above  it.    [Kneeling]    I  ne'er  had 
A  suit  before ;    but  my  knees  join  with  hers 
To  implore  your  royal  mercy  to  her  lord. 
And  take  his  cause  to  your  examination ; 
It  caimot  wrong  your  judges,  if  they  have  115 

Been  steer'd  by  conscience. 

Mont.  It  will  fame  your  justice. 

King.     I  cannot  be  prescrib'd  ;  you  kneel  in  vain. 
You  labour  to  betray  me  with  your  tears 
To  a  treason  above  his,  gainst  my  own  laws. 

[The  Wife  swoons] 
Look  to  the  ladyl 

Enter  Asall 

As.  Sir,  the  Chancellor  I  120 

King.    Admit  him. — Leave  us  all. 

Exeunt  [all  but  the  King] 

Enter  Chancellor 

How  now,  my  lord  ? 
You  have  lost  no  time ;    and  how  thrive  the  proceedings  ? 
Chan.     'Twas  fit,  my  gracious  Sovereign,  Time  should 
leave 
His  motion  made  in  all  affairs  beside, 
And  spend  his  wings  only  in  speed  pi  this.  125 

King.     You  have  show'd  diligence  ;    and  what's  become 
Of  our  most  curious  justicer,  the  Admiral  ? 


>»i 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  313 

Chan.    Condemned,  sir,  utterly,  and  all  hands  set 
To  his  conviction. 

King,  And  for  faults  most  foul  ? 

Chan,    More  than  most  impious :    but  the  applausive 
issue,  130 

Struck  by  the  concourse  of  your  ravish'd  subjects 
For  joy  of  your  free  justice,  if  there  were 
No  other  cause  to  assure  the  sentence  just, 
Were  proof  convincing. 

King,  Now  then  he  sees  clearly 

That  men  perceive  how  vain  his  justice  was,  135 

And  scorn  him  for  the  foolish  net  he  wore 
To  hide  his  nakedness.     Is't  not  a  wonder 
That  men's  ambitions  should  so  blind  their  reason 
To  affect  shapes  of  honesty,  and  take  pride 
Rather  in  seeming  than  in  being  just  ?  140 

Chan,    Seeming  has  better  fortune  to  attend  it 
Than  being  sound  at  heart,  and  virtuous. 

King,     Profess  all,  nothing  do,  like  those  that  live 
By  looking  to  the  lamps  of  holy  temples, 
Who  still  are  busy  taking  off  their  snufis,  145 

But  for  their  profit  sake  will  add  no  oil  I 
So  these  will  check  and  sentence  every  ffljame. 
The  blaze  of  riotous  blood  doth  cast  in  others, 
And  in  themselves  leave  the  fume  most  offensive. 
But  he  to  do  this,  more  deceives  my  judgment  150 

Than  all  the  rest  whose  nature  I  have  sounded. 

Chan,    I  know,  sir,  and  have  prov'd  it. 

King,  Well,  my  lord. 

To  omit  circumstance,  I  highly  thank  you 
For  this  late  service  you  have  done  me  here, 
Which  is  so  great  and  meritorious  155 

That  with  my  ablest  power  I  scarce  can  quit  you« 

Chan,    Your  sole  acceptance,  my  dread  Sovereign, 
I  more  rejoice  in  than  in  all  the  fortunes 
That  ever  chanc'd  me.     But  when  may  it  please 
Your  Highness  to  order  the  execution  ?  160 

The  haste  thus  far  has  spar'd  no  pinions. 

King,    No,  my  lord,  3rour  care 
Hath  therein  much  deserved. 

Chan,  But  where  proportion 

Is  kept  to  th'  end  in  things  at  start  so  happy. 
That  end  set  on  the  crown. 


314  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  IV 

King,  I'll  speed  it  therefore.  165 

Chan,    Your  thoughts  direct  it ;  they  are  wing'd.      Exit 
King,  I  joy 

This  boldness  is  condemn'd,  that  I  may  pardon, 

And  therein  get  some  ground  in  his  opinion, 

By  so  much  bounty  as  saves  bis  life  ; 

And  methinks  that,  weigh' d  more,  should  sway  the  balance    170 

'Twixt  me  and  him,  held  by  his  own  free  justice  ; 

For  I  could  never  find  him  obstinate 

In  any  mind  he  held,  when  once  he  saw 

Th'  error  with  which  he  laboured  ;  and  since  now 

He  needs  must  feel  it,  I  admit  no  doubt  175 

But  that  his  alteration  will  beget 

Another  sense  of  things  'twixt  him  and  me. 

Who's  there  ? 

Enter  Asall 

Go  to  the  Captain  of  my  guard,  and  will  him 
To  attend  his  condemn'd  prisoner  to  me  instantly.  180 

As.    1  shall,  sir. 

Enter  Treasurer  and  Secretary 

King.    My  lords,  you  were  spectators  of  our  Admiral. 

Treas.    Ajid  hearers  too  of  his  most  just  conviction. 
In  which  we  witness'd  over-weight  enough 
In  your  great  bounties,  as  they  there  were  weigh'd,  185 

With  all  the  feathers  of  his  boasted  merits. 

King,    Has  felt  a  scorching  trial ;  and  the  test 
That  holds  fire's  utmost  force  we  must  give  metals 
That  will  not  with  the  hammer  and  the  melting 
Confess  their  truth  ;  and  this  same  sense  of  feeling  190 

(Being  ground  to  all  the  senses),  hath  one  key 
More  than  the  rest  to  let  in  through  them  all 
The  ndnd's  true  apprehension,  that  thence  takes 
Her  first  convey'd  intelligence.     I  long 

To  see  this  man  of  confidence  again.  195 

How  think  you,  lords,  will  Chabot  look  on  me. 
Now  spoil'd  of  the  integrity  he  boasted  ? 

Sec.    It  were  too  much  honour  to  vouchsafe  your  sight. 

Treas.    No  doubt,  my  Liege,  but  he  that  ha1±L  ofiended 
In  such  a  height  against  your  crown  and  person,  200 

Will  want  no  impudence  to  look  upon  you. 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  31S 

EnUr  Asall,  Captain,  Admiral 

Cap.    Sir,  I  had  charge  given  me  by  this  gentleman 
To  bring  your  condemned  prisoner  to  your  presence. 

King.     You  have  done  well ;  and  tell  the  Queen  and  our 
Lord  Constable  we  desire  their  presence  ;  bid  205 

Our  Admiral's  lady,  and  her  father  too, 
Attend  us  here :  they  are  but  new  withdrawn. 

As.    I  shall,  sir. 

Treas.  Do  you  observe  this  confidence  ? 

He  stands  as  all  his  trial  were  a  dream. 

Sec.    He'll  find  the  horror  waking.     The  King's  troubled  :  210 
Now  for  a  thunder-clap.    The  Queen  and  Constable ! 

Enter  Queen,  Constable,  Wife,  and  Father 

Treas.    I  do  not  like  their  mixture. 
King.  My  Lord  Admiral, 

You  made  it  your  desire  to  have  this  trial 
That  late  hath  pass'd  upon  you  ; 

And  now  you  feel  how  vain  is  too  much  faith  215 

And  flattery  of  yourself,  as  if  your  breast 
Were  proof   gainst  all  invasion  ;  'tis  so  slight. 
You  see,  it  lets  in  death  ;  whaf  s  past  hath  been 
To  satisfy  your  insolence  ;  there  remains 

That  now  we  serve  our  own  free  pleasure  ;  therefore,  220 

By  that  most  absolute  power,  with  which  all  right 
Puts  in  my  hands  these  issues,  turns,  and  changes, 
I  here,  in  ear  of  all  these,  pardon  all 
Your  faults  and  forfeits,  whatsoever  censur'd. 
Again  advancing  and  establishing  225 

Your  person  in  all  fulness  of  that  state 
That  ever  yotl  enjoy 'd  before  th'  attainder. 

Treas.    Wonderful,  pardon'd ! 

Wife.  Heaven  preserve  the  King  ! 

Queen.    Who  for  this  wiU  deserve  all  time  to  honour  him. 

Mont.    And  live  kings'  best  example. 

Fath.  Son,  y'are  pardon'd  ;  230 

Be  sure  you  look  hereafter  well  about  you. 

Chab.    Vouchsafe,  great  sir,  to  assure  me  what  you  said  ; 
You  nam'd  my  pardon. 

King.  And  again  declare  it. 

For  an  crimes  past,  of  what  nature  soever. 

Chab.    You  cannot  pardon  me,  sir. 

King.  How's  that,  PhiUp  ?  235 


3i6  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT        [Act  IV 

Chab»    It  is  a  wcnrd  carries  too  much  relation 
To  an  ofience,  of  which  I  am  not  guilty. 
And  I  must  still  be  bold,  where  truth  still  arms. 
In  spite  of  all  those  frowns  that  would  deject  me, 
To  say  I  need  no  pardon. 

King.  Ha,  how's  this  ?  240 

Fath.    He's  mad  with  over  joy  and  answers  nonsense. 

King.    Why,  tell  me,  Chabol^  are  not  you  condemned  ? 

Chab.    Yes,  and  that  justifies  me  much  the  more  ; 
For  whatsoever  false  report  hath  brought  you, 
I  was  condemn'd  for  nothing  that  could  reach  345 

To  prejudice  my  life,  my  goods,  or  honour. 
As  first,  in  firmness  of  my  conscience, 
I  confidently  told  you  ;  not,  alas ! 
Presuming  on  your  slender  thread  of  favour. 
Or  pride  of  fortunate  and  courtly  boldness,  250 

But  what  my  faith  and  justice  bade  me  trust  to; 
For  none  of  all  your  leam'd  assistant  judges. 
With  all  the  malice  of  my  crimes,  could  urge 
Or  felony  or  hurt  of  sacred  power. 

King,    Do  any  hear  this  but  myself  ?    My  lords,  255 

This  man  still  justifies  his  innocence. 
What  prodigies  are  these  ?    Have  not  our  laws 
Pass'd  on  his  actions ;  have  not  equal  judges 
Certified  his  arraignment  and  him  guilty 
Of  capital  treason  ;  and  yet  do  I  hear  260 

Chabot  accuse  all  these,  and  quit  himself  ? 

Treas,    It  does  appear  distraction,  sir. 

King,  Did  we 

Seem  so  indulgent  to  propose  our  free 
And  royal  pardon,  wil^out  suit  or  prayer. 
To  meet  with  his  contempt  ? 

Sec,  Unheard-of  impudence !         265 

Chab,    I  were  maUcious  to  m3rself  and  desperate 
To  force  untruths  upon  my  soul,  and,  when 
'Tis  clear,  to  confess  a  shame  to  exercise 
Your  pardon,  sir.    Were  I  so  foul  and  monstrous 
As  I  am  given  to  you,  you  would  commit  270 

A  sin  next  mine  by  wronging  your  own  mercy 
To  let  me  draw  out  impious  breath :  it  will 
Release  your  wonder  if  you  give  command 
To  see  3rour  process  ;  and  if  it  prove  other 
Than  I  presume  to  inform,  tear  me  in  pieces.  275 


■  I    I  m»im 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  317 

King.    Go  for  the  process,  and  the  Chancellor, 
With  tiie  assistant  Judges. 

Ejnt  Asall 

I  thank  heaven 
That  with  all  these  enforcements  of  distraction 
My  reason  stays  so  clear  to  hear  and  answer 
And  to  direct  a  message.    This  inversion  280 

Of  all  the  lo3^ties  and  true  deserts 
That  I  believ'd  I  govem'd  with  till  now. 
In  my  choice  lawyers  and  chief  counsellors. 
Is  able  to  shake  all  my  frame  of  reason. 

Chab.    1  am  much  griev'd. 

King.  No  morel  [Aside]  1  do  incline       285 

To  think  I  am  abus'd,  my  laws  betray'd 
And  wrested  to  the  purpose  of  my  judges. 
This  confidence  in  Chabot  turns  my  judgment: 
This  was  too  wild  a  way  to  make  his  merits 
Stoop  and  acknowledge  my  superior  bounties,  290 

That  it  doth  raise  and  fix  'em  past  my  art 
To  shadow  ;  all  the  shame  and  forfeit's  mine. 
Enter  Asall,  Chancellor,  Judges 

As.    The  Chancellor  and  Judges,  sir. 

Treas.  [aside].  I  like  not 

This  passion  in  the  King ;  the  Queen  and  Constable 
Are  of  that  side. 

King.  My  lord,  you  dare  appear,  then  ?  295 

Chan.    Dare,  sir  ?    I  hope — 

King.  Well  done  ;  hope  stiU,  and  tell  me, 

Is  not  this  man  condemn' d  ? 

Chan.  Strange  question,  sir  t 

The  process  wiU  declare  it,  sign'd  with  aU 
These  my  assistant  brothers'  reverend  hands. 
To  his  conviction  in  a  public  trial.  300 

King.     You  said  for  foul  and   monstrous  facts  prov'd 
by  him  ? 

Chan.    The  very  words  are  there,  sir. 

King.  But  the  deeds 

I  look  for,  sir ;  name  me  but  one  that's  monstrous. 

C?ian.    His  foul  comparisons  and  affronts  of  you 
To  me  seem'd  monstrous. 

King.  I  told  3^u  them,  sir ;  305 

Nor  were  they  any  that  your  so  vast  knowledge, 
a  man  stacked  in  him,  could  produce 


3i8  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  IV 

And  prove  as  clear  as  heaven  ;  you  warranted 

To  make  appear  such  treasons  in  the  Admiral, 

As  never  all  law's  volumes  yet  had  sentenced,  310 

And  France  should  look  on  having  scap'd  with  wonder. 

What  in  this  nature  hath  been  clearly  prov'd 

In  his  arraignment  ? 

I  St  Judge,  Nothing  that  we  heard 

In  slend'rest  touch  urg'd  by  your  advocate. 

King.    Dare  you  affirm  this  too  ? 

2nd  Judge.  Most  confidently.  315 

King.    No  base  corruptions  charg'd  upon  him  ? 

15/  Judge.  None,  sir! 

Treas.     [aside]    This  argues  Chabot  has  corrupted  him. 

Sec.  [aside]    1  do  not  like  this. 

1st  Judge.  The  sum  of  all 

Was  urg'd  to  prove  your  Admiral  corrupt. 
Was  an  exaction  of  his  officers  320 

Of  twenty  sous  taken  from  the  fishermen 
For  every  boat  that  fish'd  the  Norman  coast. 

King.    And  was  this  all 
The  mountains  and  the  marvels  promis'd  me, 
To  be  in  clear  proof  made  against  the  life  325 

Of  our  so  hated  Admiral  ? 

Judges,  All,  sir. 

Upon  our  lives  and  consciences! 

Chan,  [aside]  I  am  blasted. 

King.     How  durst  you  then  subscribe  to  his  conviction  ? 

15/  Judge,    For  threats  by  my  Lord  Chancellor  on  the 
bench. 
Affirming  that  3^ur  Majesty  would  have  it  330 

Made  capital  treason,  or  account  us  traitors. 

2nd  Judge.    Yet,  sir,  we  did  put  to  our  names  with  this 
Interposition  of  a  note  in  secret 
In  these  two  letters,  V  and  /,  to  show 

We  were  enforced  to  what  we  did,  which  then  335 

In  law  is  nothing. 

Fath.  How  do  you  feel,  your  lordship  ? 

Did  you  not  find  some  stuffing  in  your  head  ? 
Your  brain  should  have  been  purg'd. 

Chan,  I  faU  to  pieces. 

Would  they  had  rotted  on  the  bench ! 

King,    And  so  you  sav'd  the  peace  of  that  high  court,  340 
Which  otherwise  his  impious  rage  had  broken; 


Sc  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  319 

But  thus  am  I  by  his  malicious  arts 

A  par[t]y  rendered,  and  most  tyramious  spur 

To  all  the  open  course  of  his  base  envies, 

A  forcer  of  my  judges,  and  a  thirst  345 

Of  my  nobility's  blood,  and  all  by  one 

I  trusted  to  make  clear  my  love  of  justice. 

Chan,    I  beseech  your  Majesty  let  all  my  zeal 
To  serve  your  virtues,  with  a  sacred  value 
Made  of  your  royal  state  to  which  each  least  350 

But  shade  of  violence  in  any  subject 
Doth  provoke  certain  death — 

King,  Death  on  thy  name 

And  memory  for  ever  1     One  command 
Our  Advocate  attend  us  presently. 

As.     He  waits  here.  355 

King.     But  single  death  shall  not  excuse  thy  skin 

Tom  o'er  thine  ears,  and  what  else  can  be  inflicted, 

If  thy  life,  with  the  same  severity 

Dissected,  cannot  stand  so  many  fires. 

Sec       ) 

T  eas    I   "^  merciful,  great  sir  I         [Kneeling.] 

King.  Yet  more  amaze !  360 

Is  there  a  knee  in  all  the  world  beside. 
That  any  human  conscience  can  let  bow 
For  him.     Y'are  traitors  all  that  pity  him. 

Treas.     [Aside]  This  is  no  time  to  move. 

King.  Yet  'twas  my  fault 

To  trust  this  wretch,  whom  I  knew  fierce  and  proud        365 
With  forms  of  tongue  and  learning.     What  a  prisoner 
Is  pride  of  the  whole  flood  of  man !  For  as 
A  human  seed  is  said  to  be  a  mixture 
And  fair  contemperature  extracted  from 

All  our  best  faculties,  so  the  seed  of  all  370 

Man's  sensual  frailty  may  be  said  to  abide. 
And  have  their  confluence  in  only  pride  ; 
It  stupefies  man's  reason  so,  and  duUs 
True  sense  of  anything  but  what  may  fall 
In  his  own  glory,  quenches  all  the  spirits  375 

That  light  a  man  to  honour  and  true  goodness. 

As.    Your  advocate. 

Enter  Advocate 
King.    Come  hither. 


320  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  IV 

Ad,  My  most  gracious  Sovereign. 

[King  talks  with  him  aside] 

Chab,    Madam,  you  infinitely  oblige  our  duty. 

Queen.     I  was  too  long  ignorant  of  your  worth,  my  lord,  380 
And  this  sweet  lady's  virtue. 

Wife.  Both  your  servants. 

Chah.     I  never  had  a  fear  of  the  King's  justice, 
And  yet  I  know  not  what  creeps  o'er  my  heart. 
And  leaves  an  ice  beneath  it.     My  Lord  Chancellor, 
You  have  my  forgiveness  ;    but  implore  Heaven's  pardon  385 
For  wrongs  to  equal  justice  ;  you  shall  want 
No  charity  of  mine  to  mediate 
To  the  King  for  you. 

Chan.  Horror  of  my  soul 

Confounds  my  gratitude. 

Mont.  [To  Chabot]       To  me  now  most  welcome. 

Ad.    [To  the  King]     It  was  my  allegiance,  sir ;     I  did 
enforce  390 

But  by  directions  of  your  Chancellor ; 
It  was  my  office  to  advance  your  cause 
Gainst  all  the  world,  which  when  I  leave  to  execute,  * 

Flay  me,  and  turn  me  out  a  most  raw  advocate. 

King.    You  see  my  Chancellor. 

Ad.  He  has  an  iQ  look  with  him.  395 

King.    It  shall  be  your  province  now,  on  our  behalf, 
To  urge  what  can  in  justice  be  against  him  ; 
His  riot  on  our  laws  and  corrupt  actions 
Will  give  you  scope  and  field  enough. 

Ad.  And  I 

Will  play  my  law  prize  ;  never  fear  it,  sir.  400 

He  shall  be  guilty  of  what  you  please.     I  am  studied 
In  him,  sir  ;  I  will  squeeze  his  villanies, 
And  urge  his  acts  so  home  into  his  bowels. 
The  force  of  it  shall  make  him  hang  himself. 
And  save  the  laws  a  labour. 

King.  Judges,  for  all  405 

The  poisonous  outrage  that  this  viper  spilt 
On  all  my  royal  freedom  and  my  empire. 
As  making  all  but  servants  to  his  malice, 
I  will  have  3rou  revise  the  late  arraignment ; 
And  for  those  worthy  reasons  that  already  410 

Affect  you  for  my  Admiral's  acquittal, 
Employ  your  justice  on  this  Chaacellor.    Away  with  him  1 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  321 

Arrest  him.  Captain  of  my  Guard,  to  answer 
All  that  due  course  of  law  against  him  can 
Charge  both  his  acts  and  life. 

Cap,  I  do  arrest  thee,  415 

Poyet,  Lord  Chancellor,  in  his  Highness'  name. 
To  answer  all  that  equal  course  of  law 
Can  charge  thy  acts  and  life  with. 

Chan.  I  obey. 

[Exit  Chancellor  guavded\ 

King,    How  false  a  heart  corruption  has  !  How  base. 
Without  true  worth,  are  all  these  earth-bred  glories  (        420 
O,  blessed  justice,  by  which  all  things  stand, 
That  stills  the  thunder,  and  makes  lightning  sink 
'Twixt  earth  and  heaven  amaz'd,  and  cannot  strike, 
Being  prov'd  so  now  in  wonder  of  this  man. 
The  object  of  men's  hate,  and  heaven's  bright  love  ;  425 

And  as  in  cloudy  days  we  see  the  sun 
Glide  over  turrets,  tuples,  richest  fields. 
All* those  left  dark  and  slighted  in  his  way, 
And  on  the  wretched  plight  of  some  poor  shed. 
Pours  all  the  glories  of  his  golden  head :  430 

So  heavenly  virtue  on  this  envied  lord 
Points  all  his  graces  that  I  may  distinguish 
Him  better  from  the  world. 

Treas.  You  do  him  right. 

King,    But  away.  Judges,  and  pursue  the  arraignment 
Of  this  polluted  Chancellor  with  that  swiftness  435 

His  fury  wing'd  against  my  Admiral ; 
And  be  you  all  that  sate  on  him  compurgators 
Of  me  against  this  false  judge. 

Judges,  We  are  so. 

King,    Be  you  two  join'd  in  the  commission. 
And  nothing  urg'd  but  justly,  of  me  learning  440 

This  one  more  lesson  out  of  the  events 
Of  these  affairs  now  past :  that  whatsoever 
Charge  or  conmiission  judges  have  from  us, 
They  ever  make  their  aim  ingenuous  justice, 
Not  partial  for  reward  or  swelling  favour;  445 

To  which  if  your  king  steer  you,  spare  to  obey. 
For  when  his  troubled  blood  is  clear  and  calm. 
He  wiU  repent  that  he  pursued  his  rage, 
Before  his  pious  law,  and  hold  that  judge 
Unworthy  of  his  place  that  lets  his  censure  450 

C.D.W.  Y 


322  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  V 

Float  in  the  waves  of  an  imagined  favour ; 
This  shipwrecks  in  the  haven,  and  but  wounds 
Their  consciences  that  soothe  the  soon-ebb'd  humours 
Of  their  incensed  king. 

!^^^']  Royal  and  sacred  I 

King.    Come,  Philip,  shine  thy  honour  now  for  ever,       455 
For  this  short  temporal  eclipse  it  sufier'd 
By  th'  interpos'd  desire  I  had  to  try  thee. 
Nor  let  the  thought  of  what  is  past  afi^t  thee 
For  my  unkindness ;  live  still  circled  here. 
The  bright  intelligence  of  our  royal  sphere.  460 

Exeunt 


ACTUS  QUINTUS 

[SCENA  I 
A  Room  in  the  Courf] 

EnUr  Queen,  Constable,  Father 

Queen,    The  Admiral  sick  ? 

FcUh»  With  danger  at  the  heart ; 

I  came  to  tell  the  King. 

Moni.  He  never  had 

More  reason  in  his  soul  to  entertain 
All  the  delights  of  health. 

Path.  I  fear,  my  lord. 

Some  apprehension  of  the  King's  unkindness,  5 

By  giving  up  his  person  and  his  offices 
To  the  law's  gripe  and  search,  is  ground  of  his 
Sad  change ;  the  greatest  souls  are  thus  oft  wounded ; 
If  he  vouchsafe  his  presence,  it  may  quicken 
His  fast  deca3ang  spirits,  and  prevent  10 

The  hasty  ebb  of  life. 

Queen.  The  King  is  now 

Fraught  with  the  joy  of  his  fresh  preservation ; 
The  news  so  violent  let  into  his  ear. 
May  have  some  dangerous  effect  in  him  ; 
I  would  not  counsel,  sir,  to  that. 

Path.  With  greater  reason         15 

I  may  suspect  they'll  spread,  my  lord,  and,  as 
A  river,  l[i]ft  his  curl'd  and  impetuous  waves 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  323 

Over  the  banks,  by  conflnence  of  streams 

That  fin  and  swell  [their]  channel ;  for  by  this  time 

He  has  the  addition  of  Allegre's  sufEering,  20 

His  honest  servant,  whom  I  met,  though  feeble 

And  worn  with  torture,  going  to  congratulate 

His  master's  safety. 

Queen.  It  seems  he  much 

Affected  that  Allegre. 

Mont.  There  will  be 

But  a  sad  interview  and  dialogue.  25 

Queen.    Does  he  keep  his  bed  ? 

Fath.  In  that  alone 

He  shows  a  fortitude ;  he  will  move  and  walk. 
He  says,  while  his  own  strength  or  others'  can 
Support  him,  wishing  he  might  stand  and  look 
His  destiny  in  the  face  at  the  last  summons,  30 

Not  sluggishly  exhale  his  soul  in  bed 
'With  indulgence,  and  nice  flattery  of  his  limbs. 

Queen.    Can  he  in  this  show  spirit,  and  want  force 
To  wrestle  with  a  thought  ? 

FaSh.  Oh,  madam,  madam  1 

We  may  have  proof  against  the  sword  and  tyranny  35 

Of  boisterous  war  that  threatens  us ;   but  when 
Kings  frown,  a  cannon  mounted  in  each  eye, 
Shoot  death  to  apprehension  ere  their  fixe 
And  force  approach  us. 

Enter  King 

Mont.  Here's  the  King. 

Queen.  No  words 

To  interrupt  his  quiet. 

Fath.  I'll  b^one,  then.  40 

King.     Our  Admiral's  father  ?    Call  him  back. 

Queen.    I  wo'  not  stay  to  hear  'em.  Exit 

Mont.  Sir,  be  prudent, 

And  do  not,  for  your  son,  fright  the  King's  health.     Exit 

King,    l^at,  ha'  they  left  us  ? — ^How  does  my  Admiral  ? 

FiM.    I  am  forbid  to  tell  you,  sir. 

King.  By  whom  ?  45 

F€Uh.    The  Queen  and  my  Lord  Constable. 

King.  Are  there 

Remaining  seeds  of  faction  ?*    Have  they  souls 
Not  yet  convinc'd  i'  th'  truth  of  Chabot's  honour. 


324  THE  TRAGEDY  OP  CHABOT  [Act  V 

Clear  as  the  crystal  heaven,  and  'bove  the  reach 
Of  imitation  ? 

Faih.  'Tis  their  care  of  yon,  50 

And  no  thought  prejudicial  to  my  son* 

King.  Their  care  of  me? 

How  can  the  knowledge  of  my  Admiral's  state 
Concern  their  fears  of  me  ?    I  see  their  envy 
Of  Chabof  s  happiness,  whose  joy  to  be 

Render'd  so  pure  and  genuine  to  the  world  -  55 

Doth  grate  upon  their  conscience  and  affright  'em. 
But  let  'em  vex,  and  bid  my  Chabot  still 
Exalt  his  heart,  and  triumph ;    he  shall  have 
The  access  of  ours ;   the  khigdom  shall  put  on 
Such  joys  for  him,  as  she  would  boast  to  celebrate  60 

Her  own  escape  from  ruin. 

Fath,    [aside.]  He  is  not 

In  state  to  hear  my  sad  news,  I  perceive. 

King.    That  countenance  is  not  right,  it  does  not  answer 
What  I  expect ;    say,  how  is  my  Admiral  ? 
The  truth,  upon  thy  life! 

Faih.  To  secure  his,  65 

I  would  yon  had. 

King.  Ha  I    Who  durst  oppose  him  ? 

Fath.    One  that  hath  powerenongh  bath  practis'd  on  him. 
And  made  his  great  heart  stoop. 

King.  I  will  revenge  it 

With  crushing  that  rebellious  power  to  nothing. 
Name  him. 

Fath.  He  was  his  friend.  70 

King.    A  friend  to  malice ;    his  own  black  imposthume 
Bum  his  blood  up  1    What  mischief  hath  engender'd 
New  storms  ? 

Fath.  'Tis  tiie  old  tempest. 

King.  Did  not  we 

Appease  all  horrors  that  look'd  wild  upon  him  ? 

Fath.  You  dress'd  his  wounds,  I  must  confess,  but  made    75 
No  cure;   they  bleed  afresh.    Pftrdon  me,  sir; 
Although  your  conscience  have  clos'd  too  sioon. 
He  is  in  danger,  and  doth  want  new  surgery ; 
Though  he  be  right  in  fame  and  your  o|nnion. 
He  thinks  you  were  unkind. 

King.  Alas,  poor  Chabot  I  80 

Doth  that  afiUct  him  ? 


Sc.  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  325 

Fath.  So  much,  though  he  strive 

With  most  resolv'd  and  adamantine  nerves. 
As  ever  human  fire  in  flesh  and  blood 
Forg'd  for  example  to  bear  all,  so  killing 
The  arrows  that  you  shot  were  (still  your  pardon),  85 

No  centaur's  blood  could  rankle  so. 

King.  II  this 

Be  all,  I'll  cure  him ;   kings  retain 
More  balsam  in  their  soul  than  hurt  in  anger. 

FiM.    Far  short,  sir;    with  oae  breath  they  uncreate; 
And  kings,  with  only  words,  more  wounds,  can  make  90 

Than  all  their  kingdom  made  in  balm  can  heal ; 
'Tis  dangerous  to  play  too  wild  a  descant 
On  numerous  virtue,  though  it  become  princes 
To  assure  their  adventures  made  in  everything : 
Goodness,  confined  within  poor  flesh  and  blood,  95 

Hath  but  a  queasy  and  still  sickly  state  ; 
A  musical  hand  should  only  play  on  her. 
Fluent  as  air,  yet  every  touch  command. 

King.    No  morel 
Commend  .us  to  the  Admiral,  and  say  100 

The  King  will  visit  him,  and  bring  [him]  health. 

Faih.    I  will  not  doubt  that  blessing,  and  shall  move 
Nimbly  with  this  command.  Exeunt 

[SCENA   II 

A  Court  of  Justice] 

Enter  Officers  before ;  Treasurer,  Secretary,  and  Judges,  attended 
by  Petitioners,  the  Advocate  also,  with  many  papers  in  his 
hand.  They  take  their  places  :  the  Chancellor,  with  a  guard 
[is  led  in},  and  placed  at  the  bar. 

Treas.  [aside]    Did  you  believe  the  Chancellor  had  been 
So  foul? 

Sec.  [aside]        He's  lost  to  th'  people ;  what  contempts 
They  throw  upon  him  I    But  we  must  be  wise. 

15^  Judge.    Were  there  no  other  guilt,  his  malice  show'd 
Upon  the  Admiral  in  o'erbearing  justice  5 

Would  well  deserve  a  sentence. 

Treas.  And  a  deep  onel 

2nd  Judge,      If  please  your  lonlships  to  remember,  that 


326  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  V 

Was  specially  commended  by  the  King, 
As  being  most  blemish  to  his  royal  person 
And  the  free  justice  of  his  state. 

Treas.  Already  lo 

He  has  confessed  upon  his  examinations 
Enough  for  censure;    yet,  to  obey  form — 
Master  Advocate,  if  you  please — 

Ad,    I  am  ready  for  your  lordships.    It  hath  been  said, 
and  will  be  said  again,  and  may  truly  be  justified,  omnia  ex     15 
Hie  fieri.    It  was  the  position  of  philosophers,  and  now 
proved  by  a  more  philosophical  sect,  the  lawyers,  that, 
omnia  ex  Hie  fiant,  we  are  all  made  by  law — made,  I  say,  and 
worthily,  if  we  be  just ;  if  we  be  unjust,  marred  ;  though  in 
marring  some,  there  is  necessity  of  making  otiiers,  for  if  one     20 
fall  by  the  law,  ten  to  one  but  another  is  exalted  by  the  execu- 
tion of  the  law,  since  the  corruption  of  one  must  conclude  the 
generation  of  another,  though  not  always  in  the  same  profes- 
sion ;  the  corruption  of  an  apothecary  may  be  the  generation 
of  a  doctor  of  physic ;  the  corruption  of  a  citizen  may  beget    25 
a  courtier,  and  a  courtier  may  very  well  beget  an  alderman  ; 
the  corruption  of  an  alderman  may  be  the  generation  of  a 
country  justice,  whose  corrupt  ignorance  easily  may  b^et  a 
tumult ;  a  tumult  may  beget  a  captain,  and  the  corruption 
of  a  captain  may  beget  a  gentleman-usher,  and  a  gentleman-     30 
usher  may  beget  a  lord,  whose  wit  may  beget  a  poet,  and  a 
poet  may  get  a  thousand  pound  a  year,  but  nothing  without 
corruption. 

Treas,    Good  Master  Advocate,  be  pleased  to  leave  all 
digressions,  and  speak  of  the  Chancellor.  35 

Ad.  Your  lordship  doth  very  seasonably  premonish ; 
and  I  shall  not  need  to  leave  my  subject,  corruption,  while 
I  discourse  of  him,  who  is  the  very  fen  and  Stygian  abyss  of 
it :  five  thousand  and  odd  hundred  foul  and  impious  corrup- 
tions, for  I  will  be  brief,  have  been  found  by  several  examina-  40 
tions,  and  by  oaths  proved,  against  this  odious  and  polluted 
Chancellor ;  a  man  of  so  tainted  and  contagious  a  life,  that 
it  is  a  miracle  any  man  enjoyeth  his  nostrils  that  hath  lived 
within  the  scent  of  his  offices.  He  was  bom  with  teeth  in 
his  head,  by  an  affidavit  of  his  midwife,  to  note  his  devouring,  45 
and  hath  one  toe  on  his  left  foot  crooked,  and  in  the  form  ol 
an  eagle's  talon,  to  foretell  his  rapacity — ^what  shall  I  say  ? — 
branded,  marked,  and  designed  in  his  birth  for  shame  and 
obloquy,  which  appeareth  further,   by  a  mole  under  his 


Sc  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  327 

right  ear,  with  only  three  witch's  hairs  in't ;   strange  and    50 
ominous  predictions  of  nature  1 

TrecK,  You  have  acquainted  yourself  but  very  lately 
with  this  intelligence,  for,  as  I  remember,  your  tongue  was 
guilty  of  no  such  character  when  he  sat  judge  upon  the 
Admiral :  a  pious,  incorrupt  man,  a  faithful  and  fortimate  55 
servant  to  his  king ;  and  one  of  the  greatest  honours  that  ever 
the  Admiral  received  was,  that  he  had  so  noble  and  just  a 
judge  :  this  must  imply  a  strange  volubility  in  your  tongue  or 
conscience.  I  speak  not  to  discountenance  any  evidence  for 
tiie  King,  but  to  put  you  in  mind.  Master  Advocate,  that  60 
you  had  then  a  better  opinion  of  my  Lord  Chancellor. 

Ad,    Your  lordship  hath  most  aptly  interposed,  and  with 
a  word  I  shall  easily  satisfy  all  your  judgments.     He  was 
then  a  judge,  and  in  cathedra,  in  which  he  could  not  err — ^it 
may  be  your  lordships'  cases.     Out  of  the  chair  and  seat  of    65 
justice  he  hath  his  frailties,  is  loosed  and  exposed  to  the 
conditions  of  other  human  natures ;   so  every  judge,  your 
lordships  are  not  ignorant,  hath  a  kind  of  privilege  while  he 
is  in  his  state,  office,  and  being  ;  although  he  may,  quoad  se, 
internally  and  privately  be  guilty  of  bribery  of  justice,  yet,     70 
quoad  nos,  and  in  public,  he  is  an  upright  and  innocent  judge. 
We  are  to  take  no  notice,  nay,  we  deserved  to  suffer,  if  we 
should  detect  or  stain  him,  for  in  that  we  disparage  the  office, 
which  is  the  King's,  and  may  be  our  own  ;  but  once  removed 
from  his  place  by  just  dishonour  of  the  King,  he  is  no  more    75 
a  judge,  but  a  common  person  whom  the  law  takes  hold  on, 
and  we  are  then  to  forget  what  he  hath  been,  and  without 
partiality  to  strip  and  lay  him  open  to  the  world,  a  counterfeit 
and  corrupt  judge  :   as,  for  example,  he  may,  and  ought  to 
flourish  in  his  greatness,  and  bresLk  any  man's  neck  with  as    80 
much  facility  as  a  jest ;   but  the  case  being  altered,  and  he 
down,  every  subject  shall  be  heard  ;  a  wolf  may  be  apparelled 
in  a  lamb  skin  ;  and  if  every  man  should  be  afraid  to  speak 
truth  nay,  and  more  than  truth,  if  the  good  of  the  subject, 
which  are  clients,  sometime  require  it,  there  would  be  no    85 
remove  of  officers  ;  if  no  remove,  no  motions  ;  if  no  motion 
in  court,  no  heat,  and,  by  consequence,  but  cold  terms.    Take  ^ 
away  this  moving,  this  removing  of  judges,  the  law  may 
bury  itself  in  buckram,  and  the  kingdom  suffer  for  want  of  a 
due  execution  ;  and,  now,  I  hope,  your  lordships  are  satisfied.     90 
Treas.     Most  learnedly  concluded  to  acquit  yourself. 
tst  Judge.    Master  Advocate,   please  you  to  urge,   for 


328  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  V 

satisfaction  of  the  world  and  clearing  the  King's  hanour,  how 
injustly  he  proceeded  against  the  Admiral. 

Ad.    I  shall  obey  your  lordship. — So  vast,  so  infinite  hath    95 
been  the  impudence  of  this  Chancellor,  not  only  toward  the 
subject,  but  even  the  sacred  person  of  the  King,  that  I  1 

tremble,  as  with  a  palsy,  to  remember  it.  This  man,  or 
rather  this  monster,  having  power  and  commission  trusted 
for  the  examination  of  the  Lord  Admiral,  a  man  perfect  in  100 
all  honour  and  justice,  indeed,  the  very  ornament  and  second 
flower  of  France — ^for  the  flower-de-lis  is  sacred,  and  above 
all  flowers,  and  indeed  the  best  flower  in  our  garden — having 
used  all  wa3rs  to  circumvent  his  innocence,  by  suborning  and 
promising  rewards  to  his  betrayers,  by  compelling  others  by  105 
the  cruelty  of  tortures,  as  namely  Monsieur  Allegre,  a  most 
honest  and  faithful  servant  to  his  lord,  tearing  and  extending 
his  sinews  upon  the  rack  to  force  a  confession  to  his  purpose ; 
and  finding  nothing  prevail  upon  the  invincible  virtue  of  the 
Admiral —  no 

Sec.  [aside]    How  he  would  flatter  him  I 
Ad.   Yet  most  maliciously  proceeded  to  arraign  him ;  to  be 
short,  against  all  colour  of  justice  condemiied  him  of  high 
treasons.    Oh,  think  what  the  life  of  man  is,  that  can  never 
be  recompensed,    but  the  life  of  a  just  man,  a  man  that  is  115 
the  vigour  and  glory  of  our  life  and  nation,  to  be  torn  to  death, 
and  sacrificed  beyond  the  malice  of  common  persecution  ! 
What  tiger  of  Hyrcanian  breed  could  have  been  so  cruel  ? 
But  this  is  not  all  I  He  was  not  guilty  only  of  murder — guilty, 
I  may  say,  in  foro  conscientia,  though  our  good  Admiral  was  120 
miraculously  preserved — ^but  unto  this  he  added  a  most  pro- 
digious and  fearful  rape,  a  rape  even  upon  Justice  itself,  the 
very  soul  of  our  state ;   for  the  rest  of  the  judges  upon  the 
Bench,  venerable  images  of  [Astraea,]  he  most  tyrannously 
compelled  to  set  their  hands  to  his  most  unjust  sentence.  125 
Did  ever  story  remember  the  like  outrage  and  injustice  ? 
What  forfeit,  what  penalty  can  be  enough  to  satisfy  this 
transcendent  offence  ?  And  yet,  my  good  lords,  this,  is  but 
venial  to  the  sacrilege  which  now  follows,  and  by  him  com- 
mitted :    not  content  with  this  sentence,  not  satisfied  with  130 
horrid  violence  upon  the  sacred  tribunal,  but  he  proceeds 
and  blasphemes  the  very  name  and  honour  of  the  King  him- 
self,— observe  that, — ^making  him  the  author  and  impulsive 
cause  of  all  these  rapines,  justifying  that  he  moved  only  by 
his  special  command  to  the  death,  nay,  the  murder,  of  his  135 


Sc.  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  329 

most  iaithful  subject,  translating  all  his  own  black  and 
damnable  guilt  upon  the  King.  Here's  a  traitor  to  his 
cotmtxy  I  First,  he  conspires  the  death  of  one  whom  the  King 
loves,  and  whom  every  subject  ought  to  honour,  and  then 
makes  it  no  conscience  to  proclaim  it  the  King's  act,  and,  140 
by  consequence,  declares  him  a  murderer  of  his  own  and 
of  his  best  subjects. 

\yoic$$'\  within.    An  advocate  I  An  advocate  I 
Tear  him  in  pieces  I      Tear  the  Chancellor  in  pieces  1 

Treas.    The  people  have  deep  sense  of  the  Chancellor's 

injustice.  145 

Sec,    We  must  be  careful  to  prevent  their  mutiny. 

15/  Judge.    It  will  become  our  wisdoms  to  secure 
The  court  and  prisoner. 

Treas.  Captain  of  the  Guard  I 

2nd  Judge.    What  can  you  say  for  yourself.  Lord  Chan- 
cellor ? 

Chan.    Again,  I  confess  all,  and  humbly  fly  to  150 

The  royal  mercy  of  the  King. 

Treas,  And  this 

Submission  is  the  way  to  purchase  it. 

Chan.    Hear  me,  great  judges  :  if  you  have  not  lost 
For  my  sake  all  your  charities,  I  beesech  you 
Let  the  King  know  my  heart  is  full  of  penitence ;  155 

Calm  his  high-going  sea,  or  in  that  tempest 
I  ruin  to  eternity.    Oh,  my  lords. 
Consider  your  own  places,  and  the  helms 
You  sit  at;    while  with  all  your  providence 
You  steer,  look  forth  and  see  devouring  quicksands  1  160 

My  ambition  now  is  pumsh'd,  and  my  pride 
Of  state  and  greatness  falling  into  nothing. 
I,  that  had  never  time,  through  vast  emplo3anents. 
To  think  of  Heaven,  feel  his  revengeful  wrath 
Boiling  my  blood,  and  scorching  up  my  entrails.  165 

There  doomsday  is  my  conscience,  black  and  horrid 
For  my  abuse  of  justice ;    but  no  stings 
Prick  with  that  terror  as  the  wounds  I  made 
Upon  the  pious  Admiral.    Some  good  man 
Bear  my  repentance  thither ;    he  is  merciful,  170 

And  may  incline  the  King  to  stay  his  lightmng. 
Which  threatens  my  confusion.    That  my  free 
Resign  of  titie,  office,  and  what  else 
My  pride  look'd  at,  would  buy  my  poor  life's  safety  ! 


330  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  V 

For  ever  banish  me  the  court,  and  let  175 

Me  waste  my  life  far  off,  in  some  village. 

Ad,  How  t  Did  your  lordships  note  his  request  to  yon  ? 
He  would  direct  your  sentence,  to  punish  him  with  confining 
him  to  live  in  the  country  ;  like  the  mouse  in  the  fable,  that 
having  offended  to  deserve  death,  begged  he  might  be  banished  1 80 
into  a  Parmesan.  I  hope  your  lordships  will  be  more  just  to 
the  nature  of  his  offences. 

Sec.    I  could  have  wish'd  him  fall  on  softer  ground 
For  his  good  parts. 

Treas,  My  lord,    this    is    your    sentence : 

For  youJir]  high  misdemeanours  against  his  Majesty's  fudges,  185 
for  your  unjust  sentence  of  the  most  equal  Lord  Admiral,  for 
many  and  foul  corruptions  and  abuse  of  your  office,  and  that 
infinite  stain  of  the  King's  person  and  honour,  we,  in  his 
Majesty's  name,  deprive  you  of  your  estate  of  Chancellor,  and 
declare  you  uncapable  of  any  judicial  office  ;  and  besides,  con-  190 
demn  you  in  the  sum  of  two  hundred  thousand  crowns  :  whereof, 
one  hundred  thousand  to  the  King,  and  one  hundred  thousand  to 
the  Lord  Admiral ;  and  what  remaineth  of  your  estate,  to  go  to 
the  restitution  of  those  you  have  injured  ;  and  to  suffer  per' 
petual  imprisonment  in  the  castle,  195 

So,  take  him  to  your  custody. 
Your  lordships    have    been  merciful  in  his  sentence. 

Exit 

[Chan.]    They  have  spar'd  my  life  then  1    That  some  cure 
may  bring ; 
I  ['11]  spend  it  in  my  prayers  for  the  King.  Exeunt 


[SCENA    III 

A  Room  in  Chabofs  House] 
Enter  Admiral  in  his   gown   and   cap,   his   Wife 

Chab,    Allegre !    I  am  glad  he  hath  so  much  strength ; 
I  prithee  let  me  see  him. 

Wife.  It  will  but 

Enlarge  a  passion.     My  lord,  he'll  come 
Another  time,  and  tender  you  his  service. 

Chab,    Nay,  then — 

Wife.  Although  I  like  it  not,  I  must  obey. 

Exit 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  331 

Enter  Allegre,  supported 

Chab.    Welcome,  my  injur'd  servant,  what  a  misery 
Ha'  they  made  on  thee ! 

A  I.  Though  some  change  appear 

Upon  my  body,  whose  severe  affliction 
Hath  brought  it  thus  to  be  sustained  by  others, 
My  h[ea]rt  is  still  the  same  in  faith  to  you  10 

Not  broken  with  their  rage. 

Chab,  Alas,  poor  man  1 

Were  all  my  joys  essential,  and  so  mighty 
As  the  afiected  world  believes  I  taste, 
This  object  were  enough  to  unsweeten  all. 
Though  in  thy  absence  I     had  sufEering,  15 

And  felt  within  me  a  strong  sympathy. 
While  for  my  sake  their  cruelly  did  vex 
And  fright  thy  nerves  with  horror  of  thy  sense. 
Yet  in  this  spectacle  I  apprehend 

More  grief  than  all  my  imagination  20 

Could  let  before  into  me.    Did'st  not  curse  me 
Upon  the  torture  ? 

Al.  Good  my  lord,  let  not 

The  thought  of  what  I  sufier'd  dwell  upon 
Your  memory ;    they  could  not  punish  more 
Than  what  my  duty  did  oblige  to  bear  25 

For  you  and  justice :    but  there's  something  in 
Your  looks  presents  more  fear  than  all  the  malice 
Of  my  tormentors  could  affect  my  soul  with : 
That  paleness,  and  the  other  forms  you  wear. 
Would  well  become  a  guilty  admiral,  and  one  30 

Lost  to  his  hopes  and  honour,  not  the  man 
Upon  whose  life  the  fury  of  injustice, 
Arm'd  with  fierce  lightning,  and  the  power  of  thunder. 
Can  make  no  breach.    I  was  not  rack'd  till  now : 
There's  more  death  in  that  falling  eye  than  all  35 

Rage  ever  yet  brought  forth.    What  accident,  sir,  can  blast, 
Can  be  so  black  and  fatal,  to  distract 
The  calm,  the  triumph,  that  should  sit  upon 
Your  noble  brow  ?    Misfortime  could  have  no 
Time  to  conspire  with  fate,  since  you  were  rescued  40 

By  the  great  arm  of  Providence ;    nor  can 
Those  garlands  that  now  grow  about  your  forehead. 
With  all  the  poison  of  the  world  be  blasted. 


332  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [ActV 

Chab.    Allegre,  thou  dost  bear  thy  wounds  upon  thee 
In  wide  and  spacious  characters ;   but  in  45 

The  volume  of  my  sadness,  thou  dost  want 
An  eye  to  read ;    an  open  force  hath  torn 
Thy  manly  sinews,  which  some  time  may  cure  ; 
The  engine  is  not  seen  that  wounds  thy  master 
Past  all  the  remedy  of  art  or  time,  50 

The  flatteries  of  court,  of  fame,  or  honours : 
Thus  in  the  summer  a  tall  flourishing  tree. 
Transplanted  by  strong  hand,  with  all  her  leaves 
And  blooming  pride  upon  her,  makes  a  show 
Of  Spring,  tempting  the  eye  with  wanton  blossom ;  55 

But  not  the  sun,  with  all  her  amorous  smiles. 
The  dews  of  morning,  or  the  tears  of  night. 
Can  root  her  fibres  in  the  earth  again. 
Or  make  her  bosom  kind  to  growth  and  bearing; 
But  the  tree  withers  ;    and  those  very  beams  60 

That  once  were  natural  warmth  to  her  soft  verdure. 
Dry  up  her  sap,  and  shoot  a  fever  through 
The  bark  and  lind,  tiU  she  becomes  a  burthen 
To  that  which  gave  her  life ;    so  Chabot,  Chabot — 

A  I.    Wonder  in  apprehension  !    I  must  65 

Suspect  your  health  indeed. 

Chab,  No,  no,  thou  sha'  not 

Be  troubled ;    I  but  stirr'd  thee  with  a  moral. 
That's  empty,  contains  nothing.    I  am  well ; 
See,  I  can  walk ;  poor  man,  thou  hast  not  strength  yet  I 

[Exit] 

A  I.    What  accident  is  ground  of  this  distraction  ?  70 

Enter  Admiral 

Chab.    Thou  hast  not  heard  yet  what's  become  o'  th' 
Chancellor  ? 

A  I.    Not  yet,  my  lord. 

Chab.  Poor  gentleman  !    When  I  think 

Upon  the  King,  I've  balm  enough  to  cure 
A  thousand  wounds ;    have  I  not,  Allegre  ? 
Was  ever  bounteous  mercy  read  in  story  75 

Like  his  upon  my  life,  condenm'd  for  sacrifice 
By  law,  and  snatch'd  out  of  the  flame  unlooked  for. 
And  unpetitioned  ?     But  his  justice  then, 
That  would  not  spare  whom  his  own  love  made  great. 
But  give  me  up  to  the  most  cruel  test  80 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  333 

Of  iadges,  for  some  boldness  in  defence 

Of  my  own  merits  and  my  honest  faith  to  him, 

Was  rare,  past  example. 

Enter  Father 

Faih.  Sir,  the  King 

Is  coming  hither. 

Al.  It  wiU 

Become  my  duty,  sir,  to  leave  you  now.  85 

Chab.    Stay,  by  all  means,  Allegre,  't  shall  concern  yon. 
I'm  infinitely  honoured  in  his  presence. 

Enter  King,  Queen,  Constable,  and  Wife 

Kifig.    Madam,  be  comforted  ;   I'll  be  his  physician. 
Wife.    Pray  heaven  you  may  ! 

[Chabot  kneels.    The  King  raises  him} 

King,  No  ceremonial  knees  ; 

Give  me  thy  heart,  my  dear,  my  honest  Chabot ;  90 

And  yet  in  vain  I  chsillenge  that ;    'tis  here 
Already  in  my  own,  and  shall  be  cherish'd 
With  care  of  my  best  life ;   [no]  violence 
Shall  ravish  it  from  my  possession  ; 

Not  those  distempers  that  infirm  my  blood  95 

And  spirits  shall  betray  it  to  a  fear. 
When  time  and  nature  join  to  dispossess 
My  body  of  a  cold  and  languishing  breath, 
No  stroke  in  all  my  arteries,  but  silence    * 
In  every  faculty,  yet  dissect  me  then,  100 

And  in  my  heart  the  world  shaU  read  thee  living, 
And  by  the  virtue  of  thy  name  writ  there. 
That  part  of  me  shall  never  putrefy. 
When  I  am  lost  in  all  my  other  dust. 

Chab.    You  too  much  honour  3^ur  poor  servant,  sir  ;      105 
My  heart  despairs  so  rich  a  monument ; 
But  when  it  dies — 

King.  I  wo'  not  hear  a  sound 

Of  anything  that  trenche[th]  upon  death ; 
He  speaks  the  funeral  of  my  crown  that  prophesies 
So  unkind  a  fate.    We'll  live  and  die  together  ;  no 

And  by  that  duty  which  hath  taught  3^u  hitherto 
All  loyal  and  just  services,  I  charge  thee 
Pireserva  thy  heart  for  me  and  thy  reward* 
Which  now  shall  crown  thy  merits. 


334  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  V 

Chab.  I  have  found 

A  glorious  harvest  in  your  favour,  sir ;  115 

And  by  this  overflow  of  royal  grace. 
All  my  deserts  are  shadows,  and  fly  from  me. 
I  have  not  in  the  wealth  of  my  desires 
Enough  to  pay  you  now ;   yet  you  encourage  me 
To  make  one  suit. 

King.  So  soon  as  nam'd,  possess  it.  120 

Chab,     You  would  be  pleas'd  take  notice  of  this  gentleman, 
A  secretary  of  mine. 

Mont.  Monsieur  Allegre ; 

He  that  was  rack'd,  sir,  for  your  Admiral. 

Chab.     His  limbs  want  strength  to  tender  their  full  duty. 
An  honest  man,  that  sufiers  for  my  sake.  125 

King.    He  shall  be  dear  to  us.  [To  Allegre]  For  what  has 
pass'd,  sir, 
By  the  unjustice  of  otu:  Chancellor's  power. 
We'll  study  to  recompense ;  i'  th'  meantime,    that  office 
You  exercis'd  for  Chabot,  we  translate 
To  ourself ;   you  shall  be  our  secretary. 

Al.  This  is  130 

An  honour  above  my  weak  desert,  and  shall 
Oblige  the  service  of  my  life  to  satisfy  it. 

Chab.    You  are  gracious,  and  in  this  act  have  put 
All  our  complaints  to  silence. 

Enter  Treasurer  and  Secretary,  [and  give  the  King  the  sen- 
tence of  the  Chancellor] 

You,  Allegre, 
Cherish  your  health  and  feeble  limbs,  which  cannot,  135 

Without  much  prejudice,  be  thus  employ'd : 
All  my  best  wishes  with  thee. 

A  I.  All  my  prayers 

Are  duties  to  your  lordship.  Exit 

King.  'Tis  too  tittle  I 

Can  forfeit  of  his  place,  wealth,  and  a  lasting 
Imprisonment,  purge  his  oflences  to  140 

Our  honest  Admiral  ?   had  our  person  been 
Exempted  from  his  maUce,  he  did  persecute 
The  life  of  Chabot  with  an  equal  wrath ; 
You  should  have  pour'd  death  on  his  treacherous  head. 
I  revoke  all  yotu:  sentences,  and  make  145 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  335 

Him  that  was  wrong'd  full  master  of  his  destiny. 

[Turning  to  Chabotj 
Be  thon  his  judge. 

Chab,  Oh,  far  be  such  injustice  I 

I  know  his  doom  is  heavy ;   and  I  beg. 
Where  mercy  may  be  let  into  his  sentence. 
For  my  sake,  you  would  soften  it ;   I  have  150 

Glory  enough  to  be  set  right  in  3^ur's 
And  my  dear  country's  thought,  and  by  an  act 
With  such  apparent  notice  to  the  world. 

King,    Express  it  in  some  joy  then. 

Chab.  I  will  strive 

To  show  that  pious  gratitude  to  3^Uy  but —  155 

King.    But  what  ? 

Chab.     My  frame  hath  lately,  sir,  been  ta'en  a-pieces. 
And  but  now  put  together  ;  the  least  force 
Of  mirth  will  shake  and  unjoint  aU  my  reason. 
Your  patience,  royal  sir. 

King.  I'll  have  no  patience,  160 

If  thou  forget  the  courage  of  a  man. 

Chab.    My  strength  would  flatter  me.  i 

King.  Physicians  1 

Now  I  begin  to  fear  his  apprehension. 
Why,  how  is  Chabot's  spirit  fall'n ! 

Queen.  Twere  best 

He  were  convey'd  to  his  bed. 

Wife.  How  soon  tum'd  widow  I  165 

Chab.    Who  would  not  wish  to  Uve  to  serve  your  goodness  ? 
Stand  from  me  [to  those  supporting  him],   you  betray  me 

with  youT  fears  ; 
The  plummets  may  fall  ofi  that  hang  upon 
My  heart ;   tiiey  were  but  thoughts  at  first :   or  if 
They  weigh  me  down  to  death,  let  not  my  eyes  170 

Close  with  another  object  than  the  King ; 
Let  him  be  last  I  look  on. 

King.    I  would  not  have  him  lost  for  my  whole  kingdom. 

Moni.    He  may  recover,  sir. 

King.  I  see  it  fall ; 

For  justice  being  the  prop  of  every  kingdom,  175 

And  mine  broke,  violating  him  that  was 
The  knot  and  contract  of  it  aU  in  him ; 
It  |1s]  already  falling  in  my  ear. 
Pompey  could  hear  it  thunder,  when  the  Senate 


336  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Act  V 

And  Capitol  were  deaf  [t]o  heaven's  loud  chiding.  i8o 

I'll  have  another  sentence  for  my  Chancellor, 

Unless  my  Chabot  live.     In  a  prince 

What  a  swift  executioner  is  a  frown  ! 

Especially  of  great  and  noble  souls. — 

How  is  it  with  my  Philip  ? 

Ch(ib,  1  must  beg  185 

One  other  boon. 

King,  Upon  condition 

My  Chabot  will  collect  his  scatter'd  spirits, 
And  be  himself  again,  he  shall  divide 
My  kingdom  with  me. 

Path.  Sweet  King! 

Chab.  I  observe 

A  fierce  and  killing  wrath  engender 'd  in  you  ;  190 

For  my  sake^  as  you  wish  me  strength  to  serve  you, 
Forgive  your  Chancellor ;   let  not  the  story 
Of  Fhihp  Chabot,  read  hereafter,  draw 
A  tear  from  any  family.     I  beseech 

Your  royal  mercy  on  his  life  and  free  195 

Remission  of  all  seizure  upon  his  state  ; 
I  have  no  comfort  else. 

King.  Endeavour  but 

Thy  own  health,  and  pronounce  general  pardon 
To  all  through  France. 

Chab.  Sir,  I  must  kneel  to  thank  you. 

It  is  not  seal'd  else  [kneels]  ;  your  blest  hand  ;  Uve  happy.     200 
May  all  you  trust  have  no  less  faith  than  Chabot ! 
Oh !  [Dies] 

Wife.        His  heart  is  broken. 

Path.  And  kneeling,  sir. 

As  his  ambition  were  in  death  to  show 
The  truth  of  his  obedience. 

Mont.    I  fear'd  this  issue. 

Treas.  He's  past  hope.  205 

King.    He  has  a  victory  in's  death ;   this  world 
Deserv'd  him  not.    How  soon  he  was  translated 
To  glorious  eternity !     Tis  too  late 
To  fright  the  air  with  words ;  my  tears  embalm  him  I 

Wife.    What  can  become  of  me  !  210 

[King,]    I'll  be  your  husband,  madam,  and  with  care 
Supply  your  children's  father ;   to  your  father 
I'll  be  a  son  ;   in  what  our  love  or  power 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  337 

Can  serve  his  friends,  Chabot  shall  ne'er  be  wanting. 

The  greatest  loss  is  mine,  past  scale  or  recompence.  215 

We  will  proceed  no  farther  gainst  the  Chancellor. 

To  the  charity  of  our  Admiral  he  owes 

His  life,  which,  ever  banish'd  to  a  prison. 

Shall  not  beget  in  ns,  or  in  the  subject. 

New  fears  of  his  injustice  ;   for  his  fortunes,  220 

Great  and  acquir'd  corruptly,  'tis  our  will 

They  make  just  restitution  for  aU  wrongs, 

That  shall  within  a  year  be  prov'd  aganst  him. 

Oh,  Chabot,  that  shall  boast  as  many  monuments. 

As  there  be  hearts  in  France,  which,  as  they  grow,  225 

Shall  with  more  love  enshrine  tiiee  I    Kings,  they  say. 

Die  not,  or  starve  succession:    Oh,  why 

Should  that  stand  firm,  and  kings  themselves  despair 

To  find  their  subject  still  in  the  next  heir  ?  Exeunt 

FINIS 


C.D.W. 


CiESAR  AND  POMPEY 

A  ROMAN  TRAGEDY 


The  Tragedy  of  Caesar  and  Pompey 

TO 

THE    RIGHT    HONOURABLE,    HIS    EXCEEDING    GOOD 

LORD, 

THE  EARL  OF  MIDDLESEX,   &c. 

Though,  my  good  lord,  this  martial  history  suffer  the  division 
of  acts  and  scenes,  both  for  the  more  perspicuity  and  height 
of  the  celebration,  yet  never  touched  it  at  the  stage  ;  or  if  it 
had  (though  some  may  perhaps  causelessly  impair  it)  yet  would 
it,  I  hope,  fall  under  no  exception  in  your  lordship's  better- 
judging  estimation,  since  scenical  representation  is  so  far  from 
giving  just  cause  of  any  least  diminution,  that  the  personal  and 
exact  life  it  gives  to  any  history,  or  other  such  delineation  of 
human  actions,  adds  to  them  lustre,  spirit,  and  apprehension : 
which  the  only  section  of  acts  and  scenes  makes  me  stand  upon 
thus  much,  since  that  only  in  some  precisianisms  will  require  a 
little  prevention,  and  the  hasty  prose  the  style  avoids,  obtain 
to  the  more  temperate  and  staid  numerous  elocution  some 
assistance  to  the  acceptation  and  grace  of  it.  Though  ingenuously 
my  gratitude  confesseth,  my  lord,  it  is  not  such  as  hereafter 
I  vow  to  your  honour,  being  written  so  long  since,  and  had  not 
the  timely  ripeness  of  that  age  that,  I  thank  God,  I  yet  find  no 
fault  withal  for  any  such  defects. 

Good  my  lord,  vouchsafe  your  idle  minutes  may  admit  some 
slight  glances  at  this,  till  some  work  of  more  novelty  and  fashion 
may  confer  this  the  more  liking  of  your  honour's  more  worthy 
deservings  ;  to  which  his  bounden  affection  vows  all  servkaes. ' 

.  Ever  your  lordship's 

GEO.  CHAPMAN. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE 


JnliuB  Caesar 

Mark  Antony 

Pompey 

Sextus,  Pompey* s  son 

Marcus  Cato 

Fortius,  his  son 

Athenodorus,  a  philosopher 

Statilius,  a  disciple  of  Cato 

Cleanthes,    the    Physician    of 

Cato 
Maurcus  Brutus 


Minutius.l 


tribunes 


>'Roman  nobles 


Metellus, ) 

Marcellus, 

Gabinius, 

Vibius, 

Demetrius, 

The  two  hentuh 

Crassinius, 

Acilius, 

Achillas, 

Septimius, 

Salvins, 

Marcilius,  ) 

[servants  of  Cato 
Batas,       J 


[soldiers  of  Casar 


murderefs 


Drusus,  servant  of  Cornelia 
Pronto,  a  ruined  knave 
Ophioneus,  a  devil 

/Iberia 
jThessaly 

The  Kings  of     <  Cicilia 

Epirus 
\Thrace 

The  two  ConsiUs 

Nuntius 

A  Soothsayer 

A  Shipmaster 

A  Sentinel 

Two  Scouts 

Senators 

Citizens 

Soldiers 

Ruffians 

Lords  and  Citizens  of  Utica 

Ushers 

Pages 

Cornelia,  wife  of  Pompey 

Cyris,  his  daughter 

Telesilla,  ) 

\  maids  of  Cornelia 
Laelia,      / 


141 


THE  ARGUMENT 

Pompey  and  Qesar  bring  their  armies  so  near  Rome,  that 
the  Senate  except  against  them.  Caesar  nnduly  and  ambitiously 
commanding  his  forces  ;  Pompey  more  for  fear  of  Caesar's  violence 
to  the  State,  than  moved  with  any  affectation  of  his  own  great- 
ness. Their  opposite  pleadings,  ont  of  which  admirable  narrations 
are  made  ;  which  yet  not  conducing  to  their  ends,  war  ends  them. 
In  which  at  first  Caesar  is  forced  to  fly,  whom  Pompey  not  pur- 
suing with  such  wings  as  fitted  a  speeding  conqueror,  his  victory 
was  prevented,  and  he  unhappily  dishonoured.  Whose  ill  fortune 
his  most  loving  and  learned  wife  Cornelia  travailed  after,  with 
pains  solemn  and  careful  enough ;  whom  the  two  Lentuli  and 
others  attended,  till  she  miserably  found  him,  and  saw  him 
monstrously  murthered. 

Both  the  Consuls  and  Cato  are  slaughtered  with  their  own 
invincible  hands,  and  Caesar  (in  spite  of  all  his  fortune)  without 
his  victory  victor. 

ONLY    A    JUST    MAN    IS    A    FREE    MAN 


ACT  I,  SCENE   I 

[A  Room  in  Cato's  House] 

Cato,  Athenodonis,  Portius,  Statilius 

Cato.    Now  will  the  two  suns  of  our  Roman  heaven, 
Pompey  and  Caesar,  in  their  tropic  burning, 
With  their  conation  all  the  clouds  assemble 
That  threaten  tempests  to  our  peace  and  empire. 
Which  we  shall  shortly  see  pour  down  in  blood. 
Civil  and  natural  wild  and  barbarous  turning. 

Aih.    From  whence  presage  you  this  ? 

Cato.  From  both  their  armies. 

Now  gather'd  near  our  Italy,  contending 

S4S 


344  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  I 

To  enter  severally:  Pompe3r's  brought  so  near 

By  Rome's  consent  for  fear  of  tyrannous  Caesar;  lo 

Which  Caesar,  fearing  to  be  done  in  favour 

Of  Pompey  and  his  passage  to  the  empire. 

Hath  brought  on  his  for  intervention. 

And  such  a  flock  of  puttocks  follow  Caesar, 

For  i!all[ings]  of  his  ill-disposed  purse  15 

(That  never  yet  spar'd  cross  to  aquiline  virtue), 

As  well  may  make  all  civil  spirits  suspicious. 

Look  how,  against  great  rains,  a  standing  pool 

Of  paddocks,  toads,  and  water-snakes  put  up 

Their  speckled  throats  above  the  venomous  lake,  20 

Croaking  and  gasping  for  some  fresh-fall'n  drops, 

To  quench  their  poison'd  thirst,  being  near  to  stifle 

With  clotter'd  purgings  of  their  own  foul  bane : 

So  still  where  Caesar  goes  there  thrust  up  head 

Impostors,  flatterers,  favourites,  and  bawds,  25 

Bufloons,  intelligencers,  select  wits, 

Close  murtherers,  mountebanks,  and  decay'd  thieves. 

To  gain  their  baneful  lives'  reliefs  from  him. 

From  Britain,  Belgia,  France,  and  Germany, 

The  scum  of  either  country  (choos'd  by  him,  30 

To  be  his  black  guard  and  red  agents  here) 

Swarming  about  him. 

For.  And  all  these  are  said 

To  be  subom'd,  in  chief,  against  yourself ; 
Since  Caesar  chiefly  fears  that  you  will  sit 
This  day  his  opposite,  in  the  cause  for  which  35 

Both  you  were  sent  for  home,  and  he  hath  stoFn 
Access  so  soon  here ;  Pompey's  whole  rest  rais'd 
To  his  encounter,  and,  on  both  sides,  Rome 
In  general  uproar. 

SUU,      \To  Athenodorus]    Which,  sir,  if  you  saw. 
And  knew,  how  for  the  danger  all  suspect  40 

To  this  your  worthiest  friend  (for  that  known  freedom 
His  spirit  will  use  this  day  gainst  both  the  rivals) 
His  wife  and  family  mourn,  no  food,  no  comfort 
Allow'd  them  for  his  danger,  you  would  use 
Your  utmost  powers  to  stay  him  from  the  Senate  45 

All  this  day's  session. 

Cato,  He's  too  wise,  Statilius  ; 

For  all  is  nothing. 

Sua,  Nothing,  sir  ?    I  saw 


Sc.  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  345 

Castor  and  Pollux  Temple  thrust  np  fuU 

With  all  the  damn'd  crew  yon  have  lately  nam'd» 

The  market-place  and  suburbs  swarming  with  them  ;  50 

And  where  the  Senate  sit,  are  ruffians  pointed 

To  keep  from  entering  the  degrees  that  go 

Up  to  ihe  Bench  all  other  but  the  Consuls, 

Csesax  and  Pompey  and  Ihe  Senators ; 

And  all  for  no  cause  but  to  keep  out  Cato  55 

With  any  violence,  any  villany. 

And  is  tiiis  nothing,  sir  ?    Is  his  one  life. 

On  whom  all  good  lives  and  their  goods  depend 

In  Rome's  whole  Empire,  all  the  justice  there 

Thafs  free  and  simple,  all  such  virtues  too,  60 

And  all  such  knowledge,  nothing,  nothing,  all  ? 

CeUo.    Away,  Statilius  ;  how  long  shall  thy  love 
Exceed  thy  luiowledge  of  me  and  the  gods 
Whose  rights  thou  wrong'st  for  my  right  ?    Have  not  I 
Their  powers  to  guard  me  in  a  cause  of  theirs  ?  65 

Their  justice  and  integrity  included. 
In  what  I  stand  for  ?    He  that  fears  the  gods 
For  guard  of  any  goodness,  all  things  fears. 
Earth,  seas,  and  air,  heaven,  darkness,  broad  daylight. 
Rumour  and  silence  and  his  very  shade  ;  70 

And  what  an  aspen  soul  hath  such  a  creature  1 
How  dangerous  to  his  soul  is  such  a  fear  ! 
In  whose  cold  fits  is  all  heaven's  justice  shaken 
To  his  faint  thoughts,  and  all  the  goodness  there. 
Due  to  all  good  men  by  the  gods'  own  vows,  75 

Nay,  by  the  firmness  of  their  endless  being ; 
All  which  shall  faO  as  soon  as  any  one 
Good  to  a  good  man  in  them,  for  his  goodness 
Proceeds  from  them,  and  is  a  beam  of  theirs. 
O  never  more,  Statilius,  may  this  fear  80 

Taint  thy  bold  bosom  for  thyself  or  friend. 
More  tiian  the  gods  are  fearful  to  defend. 

Ath*    Come,  let  him  go,  Statilius,  and  your  fright ; 
This  man  hath  inward  guard  past  your  young  sight. 

Exeunt  [Fortius,  Athenodorus  and  Statilius] 

Enter  Minutius,  manet  Cato 

Cato.    Welcome  ;  come  stand  by  me  in  what  is  fit  85 

For  our  poor  city's  safety,  noiP  respect 
Her  proudest  foe's  corruptfton,  or  our  danger 


546  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  I 

Of  wlMLt  seen  face  soever. 

Mim.  I  am  yours. 

But  what»  alas,  sir,  can  the  weakness  do, 
Aicainst  our  whole  state,  of  us  only  two  ?  90 

Voo  know  our  statists'  spirits  are  so  corrupt 
And  servile  to  the  greatest,  that  what  crossetii 
Them  or  their  own  particular  wealth  or  honour 
They  will  not  enterprise  to  save  the  Empire. 

Ciito,    I  know  it,  yet  let  us  do  like  ourselves.      Ex&utU    95 

[SCENE   II 
The  Forum,   before  the   Temple  of  Castor  and  PoiluxJ 

Enter  some  bearing  axes,  bundles  of  rods,  bare,  before  two  Consuls  ; 
Caesar  and  Metellus,  Antony    and  Marcellus,    in  couples  ; 
Senators,    People,    Soldiers,    etc,,    following.     The    Consuls 
enter  the  degrees  with  Antony  and  MarceUus,  Caesar  staying 
awhile  without  with  Metellus,  who  hath  a  paper  in  his  hand, 
Cas,    [aside  to  Metellus].  Move  you  for  entering  only 
Pompey's  army ; 
Which  if  you  gain  for  him,  for  me  all  justice 
Will  join  with  my  request  of  entering  mine. 
Met.  [aside  to  Caesar].     'Tis  like  so,  and  I  purpose  to 

enforce  it. 
Cas,    But  might  we  not  win  Cato  to  our  friendship  5 

By  honouring  speeches  nor  persuasive  gifts  ? 
Met,    Not  possible  I 

Cas,  Nor  by  enforcive  usage  ? 

Met,    Not  all  the  violence  that  can  be  us'd 
Of  power  or  set  authority  can  stir  him. 

Much  less  fair  words  win  or  rewards  corrupt  him ;  10 

And  therefore  all  means  we  must  use  to  keep  him 
From  oft  the  Bench. 

Cas,  Give  you  the  course  for  that; 

And  if  he  offer  entry,  I  have  fellows 
Will  serve  your  will  on  him  at  my  given  signal. 

They  ascend 

Enter  Pompey,  Gabinius,  Vibius,  Demetrius,  with  papers.  Enter 
the  lists,  ascend  and  sit,  A  fter  whom  enter  Cato,  Minutius, 
Aihenodorus,  Statilius,  Fortius. 

Cato,    He  is  the  man  that  sits  so  close  to  Caesar,  15 

And  holds  the  law  there,  whispering ;  see  the  coward 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  347 

Hath  guards  oi  arm'd  men  got,  against  one  naked : 
111  part  their  whispering  virtue. 

list  at,']  Hold,  keep  out  I 

2[ni  Cft/].  What,  honoured  Cato  ?  Enter,  choose  thy  place. 

Cato  [To  kis  friends,']    Come  in. 
He  draws  him  in  and  sits  betwixt  Caesar  and  Metellus 

Away,  unworthy  grooms. 

S[rd  at].  No  morel     20 

Cas,    What  should  one  say  to  him  ? 

Met.  He  will  be  stoical. 

Cato.    Where  fit  place  is  not  given,  it  must  be  taken. 

4[th  Cit.]    Do,  take  it,  Cato  ;  fear  no  greatest  of  them  i 
Thou  seek'st  the  people's  good,  and  these  their  own. 

S[th  Cit]    Brave  Cato  t  What  a  countenance  he  puts  on  1    25 
Let's  give  his  noble  wiU  our  utmost  power. 

6lth  Cit,]    Be  bold  in  all  thy  will ;  for  being  just, 
Thou  mayst  defy  the  gods. 

Cato,  Said  like  a  god. 

Met.    We  must  endure  these  people. 

CiBs.  Do ;  begin. 

Met.   [rising].    Consuls,  and  reverend  Fathers,  and  ye 
people,  30 

Whose  voices  are  the  voices  of  the  gods, 
I  here  have  drawn  a  law,  by  good  consent. 
For  ent'ring  into  Italy  the  army 
Of  Rome's  great  Pompey,  that,  his  forces  here 
As  well  as  he,  great  Rome  may  rest  secure  35 

From  danger  of  the  yet  stiU  smoking  fire 
Of  Catiline's  abhorr'd  conspiracy: 
Of  which  the  very  chief  are  left  ahve. 
Only  chastis'd  but  with  a  gentle  prison. 

Cato.    Put  them  to  death,  then,  and  strike  dead  our  fear,      40 
That  well  you  urge,  by  their  unfit  survival 
Rather  than  keep  it  quick,  and  two  lives  give  it 
By  entertaining  Pompey's  army  too, 
That  gives  as  great  cause  of  our  fear  as  they. 
For  their  conspiracy  only  was  to  make  45 

One  tyrant  over  all  the  state  of  Rome; 
And  Pompey-s  army,  sufEer'd  to  be  enter'd. 
Is  to  make  him,  or  give  him  means  to  be  so. 

Met.    It  follows  not 

Cato.  In  purpose  clearly,  sir, 


348  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  I 

Which  I'll  iUnstrate  with  a  clear  example.  50 

If  it  be  day,  the  sun's  above  the  earth ; 

Which  follows  not  (you'll  answer)  for  'tis  day 

When  first  the  morning  breaks,  and  yet  is  thm 

The  body  of  the  sun  beneath  the  earth ; 

But  he  is  virtually  above  it  too,  55 

Because  his  beams  are  there ;  and  who  then  knows  not 

His  golden  body  wiU  soon  after  mount. 

So  Pompe3r's  army  enter'd  Italy, 

Yet  Pompey's  not  in  Rome ;  but  Pbmpey's  beams 

Who  sees  not  there  ?    And  consequently  he  60 

Is  in  all  means  enthron'd  in  th'  empery. 

Met.    Examples  prove  not ;  we  will  have  the  army 
Of  Pompey  enter'd. 

Caio.  We  ?  Which  *  we '  intend  you  ? 

Have  you  already  bought  the  people's  voices  ? 
Or  besir  our  Consuls  or  our  Senate  here  65 

So  small  love  to  their  country,  that  their  wills 
Beyond  their  countr3r's  right  are  so  perverse 
To  give  a  tyrant  here  entire  command  ? 
Which  I  have  prov'd  as  clear  as  day  they  do. 
If  either  the  conspirators  surviving  70 

Be  let  to  live,  or  Pompey's  army  enter'd ; 
Both  which  beat  one  sole  path  and  threat  one  danger. 

Cas.    Consuls,  and  honour'd  Fathers,  the  sole  entry 
Of  Pompey's  army  I'll  not  yet  examine  ; 
But  for  the  great  conspirators  yet  living,  75 

(Which  Cato  will  conclude  as  one  self  danger 
To  our  dear  country,  and  deter  all,  therefore. 
That  love  their  country  from  their  lives'  defence) 
I  see  no  reason  why  such  danger  hangs 

On  their  sav'd  lives,  being  still  safe  kept  in  prison ;  80 

And  since  close  prison  to  a  Roman  freedom 
Tenfold  torments  more  than  diiectest  death. 
Who  can  be  thought  to  love  the  less  his  country, 
That  seeks  to  save  their  lives  ?    And  lest  myself 
(Thus  speaking  for  them)  be  unjustly  touch'd  85 

With  any  less  doubt  of  my  country's  love. 
Why,  reverend  Fathers,  may  it  be  esteem'd 
Self-praise  in  me  to  prove  myself  a  chief. 
Both  in  my  love  of  her  and  in  desert 

Of  her  like  love  in  me  ?    For  he  that  does  90 

Most  honour  to  his  mistress  well  may  boast. 


Sc.  2]   THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY  349 

■ 

Without  least  qae8tk>n»  that  he  loves  her  most. 

And  though  things  long  since  done  were  long  since  known. 

And  so  may  seem  superfluous  to  repeat, 

Yet  being  forgotten,  as  things  never  done,  95 

Their  repetition  needful  is,  in  justice, 

T'inflame  the  shame  of  that  oblivion : 

For,  hoping  it  will  seem  no  less  impair 

To  others'  acts  to  truly  tell  mine  own. 

Put  all  together,  I  have  pass'd  them  all  100 

That  by  their  acts  can  boast  themselves  to  be 

Their  countr3r's  lovers :  first,  in  those  wild  kingdoms 

Subdu'd  to  ^me  by  my  unwearied  toils. 

Which  I  dissavag'd  and  made  nobly  civil; 

Next,  in  the  multitude  of  those  rude  realms  X05 

That  so  I  fashion'd,  and  to  Rome's  young  Empire 

Of  old  have  added ;  then  the  battles  number'd 

This  hand  hath  fought  and  won  for  her,  with  all 

Those  infinites  of  dreadful  enemies 

I  slew  in  them — ^twice  fifteen  hundred  thousand  no 

(All  able  soldiers)  I  have  driven  at  once 

Before  my  forces,  and  in  sundry  onsets 

A  thousand  thousand  of  them  put  to  sword — 

Besides,  I  took  in  less  than  ten  years'  time 

By  strong  assault  above  eight  hundred  cities,  115 

Three  hundred  several  nations  in  that  space 

Subduing  to  my  country ;  all  which  service, 

I  trust,  may  interest  me  in  her  love. 

Public,  and  general  enough,  to  acquit  me  '  ' 

Of  any  self-love,  past  her  common  good,  120 

For  any  motion  of  particular  justice 

(By  which  her  general  empire  is  maintain'd) 

That  I  can  make  for  those  accused  prisoners. 

Which  is  but  by  the  way ;  that  so  the  reason 

Metellus  makes  for  entering  Pompey's  army,  125 

May  not  more  weighty  seem  than  to  agree 

With  those  imprison'd  nobles'  vital  safeties; 

Which  granted,  or  but  yielded  fit  to  be, 

May  well  extenuate  the  necessity 

Of  ent'ring  Pompey's  army. 

Cato.  All  that  need  130 

I  took  away  before,  and  reasons  gave 
For  a  necessity  to  keep  it  out, 
Whose  entry,  I  think,  he  himself  afEects  not, 


350  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  I 

Since,  I  as  well  think,  he  affects  not  th'  Empire, 

And  both  those  thoughts  hold  ;  since  he  loves  his  country,       135 

In  my  great  hopes  of  him,  too  well  to  seek 

EQs  sole  rule  of  her,  when  so  many  souls 

So  hard  a  task  approve  it ;  nor  my  hopes 

Of  his  sincere  love  to  his  country  build 

On  sandier  grounds  than  Ceesar's ;  since  he  can  140 

As  good  cards  show  for  it  as  Caesar  did. 

And  quit  therein  the  close  aspersion 

Of  his  ambition,  seeking  to  employ 

His  army  in  the  breast  of  Italy. 
Pom.    Let  me  not  thus  (imperial  Bench  and  Senate)        145 

Feel  myself  beat  about  the  ears,  and  toss'd 

With  others'  breaths  to  any  coast  they  please  ; 

And  not  put  some  stay  to  my  errors  in  them.  ;!       '" 

The  gods  can  witness  that  not  my  amlntion 

Hath  brought  to  question  th'  entry  of  my  army,  150 

And  therefore  not  suspected  the  efiect 

Of  which  Hiat  entry  is  suppos'd  the  cause. 

Which  is  a  will  in  me  to  give  my  power 

The  rule  of  Rome's  sole  Empire ;  Hiat  most  strangely 

Would  put  my  will  in  others'  powers,  and  powers  155 

(Unforfeit  by  my  fault)  in  others'  wills. 

My  self-love,  out  of  which  all  this  must  rise, 

I  will  not  wrong  the  known  proofs  of  my  love 

To  this  my  native  city's  public  good 

To  quit  or  think  of;  nor  repeat  those  -proofs,  160 

Con&rm'd  in  those  three  triumphs  I  have  made 

For  conquest  of  the  whole  inhabited  world. 

First  Afric,  Europe,  and  then  Asia, 
^   Which  never  Consul  but  myself  could  boast. 
I  Nor  can  blind  Fortune  vaunt  her  partial  hand  165 

In  any  part  of  all  my  services — 

Thou^  some  have  said  she  was  the  page  of  CaBsar, 

Both  sailing,  marching,  fighting,  and  preparing 

His  fights  in  very  order  of  his  battles ; 

The  parts  she  jflsLyd  for  him  inverting  nature,  170 

As  giving  calmness  to  th'  enraged  sea. 

Imposing  summer's  weather  on  stem  winter. 

Winging  the  slowest  foot  he  did  command. 

And  his  most  coward  making  fierce  of  hand ; 

And  all  this  ever  when  the  force  of  man  175 

Was  quite  exceeded  in  it  all,  and  she 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  351 

In  th'  instant  adding  her  clear  deity — 

Yet  her  for  me  I  both  disclaim  and  scorn, 

And  where  all  fortune  is  renounc'd,  no  reason 

Will  think  one  man  transferred  with  afEectation  180 

Of  all  Rome's  empire,  for  he  must  have  fortune, 

That  goes  beyond  a  man ;  and  where  so  many 

Their  handfuls  find  with  it,  the  one  is  mad 

That  undergoes  it ;  and  where  that  is  clear'd, 

Th'  imputed  means  to  it,  which  is  my  suit  185 

For  entry  of  mine  army,  I  confute. 

Caio.    What  rests  then,  this  of  all  parts  being  disclaimed  ? 

Mst.    My  part,  sir,  rests,  that,  let  great  Pompey  bear 
What  spirit  he  lists,  'tis  needful  yet  for  Rome 
That  this  law  be  establish'd  for  his  army.  190 

Cas.    'Tis  then  as  needful  to  admit  in  mine ; 
Or  else  let  both  lay  down  our  arms,  for  else 
To  take  my  charge  off,  and  leave  Pompey  his. 
You  wrong^hilly  accuse  me  to  intend 

A  tyranny  amongst  ye,  and  shall  give  195 

Pompey  full  means  to  be  himself  a  tyrant. 

AnL    Can  this  be  answer'd  ? 

15^  Con,  Is  it  then  your  wills 

That  Pompey  shall  cease  arms  ? 

Ant.  What  else  ? 

Omnes.  No,  not 

2nd  Con.    Shall  Caesar  cease  his  arms  ? 

Onm0s,  Ay,  ay  I 

Ant.  For  shame  1 

Then  3deld  to  this  clear  equity,  that  both  200 

May  leave  their  arms. 

Omnes,  We  indifferent  stand. 

Met.    Read  but  this  law,  and  you  shall  see  a  difference 
'Twixt  equity  and  your  indifferency. 
All  men's  objections  answer'd ;    read  it,  notary. 

Cato.    He  shall  not  read  it. 

Met.  I  will  read  it  then.  205 

Min.    Nor  thou  shalt  read  it,  being  a  thing  so  vain. 
Pretending  cause  for  Pompeyes  army's  entry. 
That  only  by  thy  complices  and  thee 
'Tis  forg'd  to  set  the  Senate  in  an  uproar. 

[He  snatches  the  biU] 

Met.    I  have  it,  sir,  in  memory,  and  will  speak  it.  210 

Cato.    Thou  shalt  be  dumb  as  soon. 


352  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  I 

Cas,  PuU  down  this  Cato, 

Anthor  of  factions,  and  to  prison  with  him.        He  draws, 

ISetMte,]    Come  down,  sir  I  and  all  draw 

Pom.  Hence,  ye  mercenary  ruffians  I 

1st  Con.    What  outrage  show  you  ?  Sheathe  your  insol^it 
swords. 
Or  be  proclaimed  your  country's  foes  and  traitors.  215 

Pom.    How  insolent  a  part  was  tiiis  in  you, 
To  offer  the  imprisonment  of  Cato, 
When  there  is  right  in  him  (were  form  so  answer'd 
With  terms  and  place)  to  send  us  both  to  prison, 
If  of  our  own  ambitions  we  should  ofier  220 

Th'  entry  of  our  armies  ?    For  who  knows 
That,  of  us  both,  the  best  friend  to  his  country 
And  freest  from  his  own  particular  ends 
(Being  in  his  power),  would  not  assume  the  Empire, 
And  having  it,  could  rule  the  State  so  well  225 

As  now  'tis  govem'd  for  the  conmion  good  ? 

Cas.    Accuse  yourself,  sir  (if  your  conscience  urge  it). 
Or  of  ambition,  or  corruption. 
Or  iosuffidency  to  rule  the  Empire, 
And  sound  not  me  with  your  lead.  230 

Pom.  Lead  ?    'Tis  gold. 

And  spirit  of  gold  too,  to  the  politic  dross 
With  which  false  Caesar  sounds  men,  and  for  which 
His  praise  and  honour  crowns  them ;   who  sounds  not 
The  inmost  sand  of  Caesar,  for  but  sand 

Is  all  the  rope  of  your  great  parts  a£Eected  ?  235 

You  speak  well,  and  are  leam'd ;   and  golden  speech 
Did  Nature  never  give  man  but  to  gild 
A  copper  soul  in  him ;    and  all  that  learning 
That  heartily  is  spent  in  painting  speech. 
Is  merely  painted,  and  no  solid  knowledge.  240 

But  y'ave  another  praise  for  temperance. 
Which  nought  commends  your  free  choice  to  be  temperate. 
For  so  you  must  be,  at  least  in  your  meals. 
Since  y'ave  a  malady  that  ties  you  to  it 
For  fear  of  daily  falls  in  your  aspirings ;  245 

And  your  disease  the  gods  ne'er  gave  to  man 
But  such  a  one  as  had  a  spirit  too  great 
For  all  his  body's  passages  to  serve  it ; 
Which  notes  th'  excess  of  your  ambition. 
The  malady  chancing  where  the  pores  and  passages  250 


1 


Sc.  2]    THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CJESAR  AND  POMPEY   353 

Through  which  the  spirit  of  a  man  is  borne 

So  narrow  are,  and  strait,  that  oftentimes 

They  intercept  it  quite,  and  choke  it  up  ; 

And  yet  because  the  greatness  of  it  notes 

A  heat  mere  fleshly,  and  of  blood's  rank  fire,  255 

Goats  are  of  all  beasts  subject'st  to  it  most. 

Cas.    Yourself  might  have  it,  then,  if  those  faults*  cause  it ; 
But  deals  this  man  ingenuously  to  tax 
Men  with  a  frailty  that  the  gods  inflict  ? 

Pom.    The  gods  inflict  on  men  diseases  never,   \  260 

Or  other  outward  maims,  but  to  decipher. 
Correct,  and  order  some  rude  vice  within  them 
And  why  decipher  they  it,  but  to  make 
Men  note,  and  shun,  and  tax  it  to  th'  extreme  ? 
Nor  will  I  see  my  country's  hopes  abus'd  265 

In  any  man  commanding  in  her  Empire, 
If  my  more  trial  of  him  makes  me  see  more 
Into  his  intricacies,  and  my  freedom 
Hath  spirit  to  speak  more  than  observers  servile. 

CcBS,     Be  free,  sir,  of  your  insight  and  your  speech,         270 
And  speak  and  see  more  than  the  world  besides; 
I  must  remember  I  have  heard  of  one. 
That  fame  gave  out  could  see  through  oak  and  stone, 
And  of  another  set  in  Sicily 

That  could  discern  the  Carthaginian  navy,  275 

And  number  them  distinctly,  leaving  harbour. 
Though  full  a  day  and  night's  sail  distant  thence. 
But  these  things,  reverend  Fathers,  I  conceive 
Hardly  appear  to  you  worth  grave  belief : 
And  'dierefore  since  such  strange  things  have  been  seen      280 
In  my  so  deep  and  foul  detractions. 
By  only  lyncean  Pompey  (who  was  most 
Lov'd  and  believ'd  of  Rome's  most  famous  whore. 
Infamous  Flora),  by  so  fine  a  man 

As  Galba,  or  Sarmentns,  any  jester  285 

Or  flatterer,  may  draw  through  a  lady's  ring, 
By  one  that  all  his  soldiers  call  in  scorn 
Great  Agamemnon  or  the  king  of  men, 
I  rest  unmov'd  with  him ;    and  yield  to  you 
To  right  my  wrongs,  or  his  abuse  allow.  290 

Caio.    My  lords,  ye  make  all  Rome  amaz'd  to  hear. 

Pom.    Away,  I'll  hear  no  more ;    I  hear  it  thnnder. 
My  lords,  all  you  that  love  the  good  of  Rome, 

CD.W,  A  A 


354  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  II 

I  charge  ye,  follow  me ;    all  snch  as  stay 

Are  friends  to  Caesar  and  their  country's  foes.  295 

Cas.    Th'  event  will  fall  out  contrary,  my  lords. 

1st  Con.     [to  Casar],     Go,  thou  art  a  thief  to  Rome  ; 
discharge  thine  army, 
Or  be  proclaim'd  forthwith  her  open  foe. 

2nd  Con.     Pompey,  I  charge  thee,  help  thy  injur'd  country 
With  what  powers  thou  hast  arm'd,  and  levy  more.  300 

The  Ruffians.     War,  war,  O  Caesar  I 

Senate  and  People.  Peace,  peace,  worthy  Pompey  ! 


ACT  II,  SCENE    I 

[Before  the  Walls  of  Rome] 

Enter  Pronto,  all  ragged,  in  an  overgrown  red  beard,  black  head, 
with  a  halter  in  his  hand,  looking  about 

Fron.    Wars,  wars,  and  presses  fly  in  fire  about  ; 
No  more  can  I  lurk  in  my  lazy  comers 
Nor  shifting  courses,  and  with  honest  means 
To  rack  my  miserable  life  out  more — 

The  rack  is  not  so  fearful ;    when  dishonest  ^ 

And  villainous  fashions  fail  me,  can  I  hope 
To  live  with  virtuous,  or  to  raise  my  fortunes 
By  creeping  up  inl  soldierly  degrees  ? 
Since  villainy,  varied  thorough  all  his  figures. 
Will  put  no  better  case  on  me  than  this,  iq 

Despair,  come  seize  me  1    I  had  able  means. 
And  spent  all  in  the  swinge  of  lewd  affections, 
Plung'd  in  all  riot  and  the  rage  of  blood, 
In  full  assurance  that  being  knave  enough, 
Barbarous  enough,  base,  ignorant  enough,  j^ 

I  needs  must  have  enough,  while  this  world  lasted  ; 
Yet,  since  I  am  a  poor  and  ragged  knave, 
My  rags  disgrace  my  knavery  so  that  none 
Will  think  I  am  [a]  knave ;    as  if  good  clothes 
Were  knacks  to  know  a  knave,  when  all  men  know  20 

He  has  no  living ;    which  knacks  since  my  knavery 
Can  show  no  more,  and  only  show  is  all 
That  this  world  cares  for,  I'll  step  out  of  all 
The  cares  'tis  steep'd  in.  He  offers  to  hang  himself 


Sc.  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  355 

Thunder,  and  the  gulf  opens,  flames  issuing,  and  Ophioneus 
ascending,  with  the  face,  wings,  and  tail  of  a  dragon  ;  a  shin 
coat  all  speckled  on  the  throat 

Oph,    Hold,  rascal,  hang  th3r8elf  in  these  days  ?    The  only  i  25 
time  that  ever  was  for  a  rascal  to  live  in  1  | 

Fron,    How  chance  I  cannot  live  then  ? 

Oph.  Either  th'art  not  rascal  nor  villain  enough;  or 
else  thou  dost  not  pretend  honesty  and  piety  enough  to 
disguise  it. 

Fron.  That's  certain,  for  every  ass  does  that.  What  art 
thou? 

Oph.     A  villain  worse  than  thou. 

Fron.     And  dost  breathe  ? 

Oph.    I  speak,  thou  hear'st ;  I  move,  my  pulse  beats  fast    35 
as  thine. 

Fron.    And  wherefore  liv'st  thou  ? 

Oph.    The  woild's  out  of  frame,  a  thousand  rulers  wresting  | 
it  this  way  and  that,  with  as  many  religions ;    when,  as  I 
heaven's  upper  sphere  is  moved  only  by  one,  so  should  the!  40 
sphere  of  earth  be,  and  I'll  have  it  so.  \ 

Fron.    How  canst  thou  ?    What  art  thou  ? 

Oph.    My  shape  may  tell  thee. 

Fron.    No  man  ? 

Oph.  Man  I  No,  spawn  of  a  clot  1  None  of  that  cursed  45 
crew,  damned  in  the  mass  itself,  plagued  in  his  birth,  confined 
to  creep  below,  and  wrestle  with  the  elements,  teach  himself 
tortures,  kill  himself,  hang  himself;  no  such  galley-slave, 
but  at  war  with  heaven,  spuming  the  power  of  the  gods, 
command[ing]  the  elements.  50 

Fron.    What  may'st  thou  be,  then  ? 

Oph.    An  endless  friend  of  thine,  an  immortal  devil. 

Fron.    Heaven  bless  us  1 

Oph.  Nay,  then,  forth,  go,  hang  thyself,  and  thou  talk'st 
of  heaven  once!  55 

Fron.     I  have  done  :    what  devil  art  thou  ? 

Oph.    Read  the  old  stoic  Pherecides  that  tells  thee  me 
truly,  and  says  that  I,. Ophioneus  (for  so  is  my  name) — 

Fron.    Ophioneus  ?  .  What's  that  ? 

Oph.    Devilish  serpeat    by  interpretation — ^was  general    ^ 
captain  of  that  rebellious  host  of  spirits  that  waged  war 
with  heaven. 

Fron.    And  so  were  hurled  down  to.  hell. 


356  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  II 

Oph,    We  were  so,  and  yet  have  the  rule  of  earth  ;    and 
cares  any  man  for  the  worst  of  hell,  then  ?  65 

Fron.    Why  should  he  ? 

Oph,    Well  said  1    What's  thy  name  now  ? 

Ffon,    My  name  is  Pronto. 

Oph.    Pronto  ?    A   good   one ;     and   has   Ftonto  lived 
thus  long  in  Rome,  lost  his  state  at  dice,  murthered  his    70 
brother  for  his  means,  spent  all,  run  thorough  worse  offices 
since,  been  a  promoter,  a  purveyor,  a  pander,  a  sunmer,  a 
sergeant,  an  intelligencer,  and  at  last  hang  thjrself  ? 

Fron,     [aside]    How  the  devil  knows  he  all  this  ? 

Oph.  Why,  thou  art  a  most  green  plover  in  policy,  I  per-  75 
ceive ;  and  mayst  drink  colts-foot,  for  all  thy  horse-mane 
beard  :  'slight,  what  need  hast  thou  to  hang  thyself,  as  if 
there  were  a  dearth  of  hangmen  in  the  land  ?  Thou  liv'st 
in  a  good  cheap  state ;  a  man  may  be  hanged  here  for  a  little 
or  nothing.    What's  the  reason  of  thy  desperation  ?  80 

Fron.    My  idle,  dissolute  life  is  thrust  out  of  all  his  comers 
by  this  searching  tumult  now  on  foot  in  Rome. 

♦     ♦     ♦    Caesar  now  and  Pompey 

Are  both  for  battle :    Pompey  (in  his  fear 

Of  Caesar's  greater  force)  is  sending  hence  85 

His  wife  and  children,  and  he  bent  to  fly. 

Enter  Pompey  running  over  the  stage  with  his  wife  and  children, 
Gabinius,  Demetrius,  Vibius,  Pages  ;  other  Senators,  the 
Consuls  and  all  following. 

See,  all  are  on  their  wings,  and  all  the  city  r- 

In  such  an  uproar,  as  if  fire  and  sword 

Were  ransacking  and  ruining  their  houses ; 

No  idle  person  now  can  lurk  near  Rome,  90 

All  must  to  arms,  or  shake  their  heels  beneath 

Her  martial  halters,  whose  officious  pride 

I'll  shun,  and  use  mine  own  swinge :    I  be  forc'd 

To  help  my  country,  when  it  forceth  me 

To  this  past-helping  pickle  1  95 

Oph.     Go  to,  thou  Shalt  serve  me  ;  choose  thy  profession, 
and  what  cloth  thou  wouldst  wish  to  have  thy  coat  cut  out  on. 

Fron.    I  can  name  none. 

Oph.    Shall  I  be  thy  learned  counsel  ?  loo 

Fron.    None  better. 

Oph.    Be  an  archflamen,  then,  to  one  of  the  gods, 

Fron.    Archflamen  !   What's  that  ? 


Sc.  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  357 

Oph,    A  priest. 

Fron.    A  priest,  that  ne'er  vras  derk  ? 

Oph,  No  clerk !   what  then  ?  105 

The  greatest  clerks  are  not  the  vdsest  men.  | 

Nor  skills  it  for  degrees  in  a  knave  or  a  fool's  preferment ;  j 
thou  shalt  rise  by  fortune :  let  desert  rise  leisurely  enough,  and  I 
by  degrees  ;  fortune  prefers  headlong,  and  comes  like  riches  to  I 
a  man;   huge  riches  being  got  with  little  pains,  and  littler  10 
with  huge  pains.    And  for  discharge  of  the  priesthood, 
what  thou  want'st  in  learning  thou  shalt  take  out  in  good- 
fello¥rship ;  thou  shalt  equivocate  with  the  sof^iister,  prate 
with  the  lawyer,  scrape  with   the  usurer,  drink  with  the 
Dutchman,  swear  with  the  Frenchman,  cheat  with  the    115 
Englishman,  brag  with  the  Scot,  and  turn  all  this  to  religion  : 
Hoc  est  regnum  Deorum  gentibus. 

Fron,    All  this  I  can  do  to  a  hair. 

Oph.  Very  good  ;  wilt  thou  show  thyself  deeply  learned 
too,  and  to  live  licentiously  here,  care  for  nothing  hereafter  ?  120 

Fron,    Not  for  hell  ? 

Oph.  For  hell  ?  Soft,  sir ;  hop'st  thou  to  purchase  hell 
with  only  dicing  or  whoring  away  thy  living,  murthering  thy 
brother,  and  so  forth  ?  No,  there  remain  works  of  a  higher 
hand  and  deeper  brain  to  obtain  heU.  Think'st  thou  earth's  125 
great  potentates  have  gotten  their  places  there  with  any  single 
act  of  murther,  poisoning,  adultery,  and  the  rest  ?  No  ;  'tis 
a  purchase  for  all  manner  of  villainy,  especially  that  may 
be  privileged  by  authority,  colour^  with  htrftness,  and 
enjo3red  with  pleasure.  130 

Fron,    O  this  were  most  honourable  and  admirable  ! 

Oph,  Why  such  an  admirable,  honourable  villain  shalt 
thou  be. 

Fron.     Is't  possible  ? 

Oph.    Make  no  doubt  on't ;    I'll  inspire  thee.  135 

Fron.    Sacred  and  puissant  t  He  kneels 

Oph,  Away  1  Companion  and  friend,  give  me  thy  hand  ; 
say,  dost  not  love  me,  art  not  enamouited  of  my  acquain- 
tance ? 

Fron,    Protest  I  ami  140 

Oph,  Well  said  ;  protest,  and  'tis  enough.  And  know  lor 
infallible,  I  have  promotion  for  thee,  both  here  and  hereafter, 
which  not  one  great  one  amongst  millions  shall  ever  aspire 
to.  Alexander  nor  great  Cyrva  retain  those  titles  in  hell 
that  they  did  on  earth.  145 


358  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  II 

Fron.    No  ? 

Oph.    No  1    He  that  sold  sea-coal  here  shall  be  a  baron 
there ;   he  that  was  a  cheatmg  rogue  here  shall  be  a  justice 
of  peace  there  ;  a  knave  here,  a  knight  there.     In  the  mean 
space  learn  what  it  is  to  hve,  and  thou  shalt  have  chopines  150 
at  commandment  to  any  height  of  life  thou  canst  wish. 

Frtrtu    I  fear  my  fall  is  too  low. 

Oph.  Too  low«  f ool  ?  Hast  thou  not  heard  of  Vulcan's 
falling  out  of  heaven  ?  Light  o'  thy  legs,  and  no  matter  though 
thou  halt'st  with  thy  best  friend  ever  after;  'tis  the  more  155 
comely  and  fashi<xiable.  Better  go  lame  in  the  fashion  with 
Pompey,  than  never  so  upright,  quite  out  of  the  fashion, 
with  Cato. 

Fron,     Yet  you  cannot  change  the  old  fashion,  they  say, 
and  hide  your  cloven  feet.  160 

Oph.    No  ?     I  can  wear  roses  that  shall  spread  quite  over 
them. 

Fron,     For  love  of  the  fashion,  do,  then. 

Oph,     Go  to !    I  will  hereafter. 

Fron,     But,  for  the  priesthood  you  ofier  me,  I  affect  it  not.  165 

Oph,     No  ?     What  say'st  thou  to  a  rich  office,  then  ? 

Fron,    The  only  second  means  to  raise  a  rascal  in  the  earth. 

Oph,    Go  to  ;   I'll  help  thee  to  the  best  i'  th'  earth,  then, 
and  that's  in  Sicilia,  the  very  storehouse  of  the  Romans, 
where  the  Lord  Chief  Censor  there  lies  now  a^d3nng,  whose  170 
soul  I  will  have,  and  thou  shalt  have  his  office. 

Fron,    Excellent  1   Was  ever  great  office  better  supplied  ? 

Exeunt 

[SCENE  II 

Enter  Nuntius] 

Nuntius,     Now  is  the  mighty  Empress  of  the  earth, 
Great  Rome,  fast  lock'd  up  in  her  fancied  strength. 
All  broke  in  uproars,  fearing  the  just  gods 
In  plagues  will  drown  her  so  abused  blessings ; 
In  which  fear,  all  without  her  walls,  fly  in,  5 

By  both  their  jarring  champions  rushing  out ; 
And  those  that  were  within  as  fast  fly  forth ; 
The  Consuls  both  are  fled,  without  one  rite 
Of  sacrifice  submitted  to  the  gods. 

As  ever  heretofore  their  custom  was  10 

W^en  they  began  the  bloody  frights  of  war : 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY   359 

In  which  our  two  great  soldiers  now  encountering, 

Since  both  left  Rome,  oppos'd  in  bitter  skirmish, 

Pompey  (not  willing  yet  to  hazard  battle. 

By  Cato's  counsel  urging  good  cause)  fled  ;  15 

Which  firing  Caesar's  spirit,  he  pursu'd 

So  home  and  fiercely,  that  great  Pompey,  scorning 

The  heart  he  took  by  his  advised  flight, 

Despis'd  advice  as  much  as  his  pursuit. 

And  as  in  Lybia  an  aged  lion,  20 

Urg'd  from  his  peaceful  covert,  fears  the  light, 

With  his  unready  and  diseas'd  appearance, 

Gives  way  to  chase'  awhile  and  coldly  hunts. 

Till  with  the  youthful  hunter's  wanton  heat 

He  all  his  cool  wrath  frets  into  a  flame ;  23 

And  then  his  sides  he  swinges  with  his  stem 

To  lash  his  strength  up,  lets  down  all  his  brows 

About  his  burning  eyes,  erects  his  mane, 

Breaks  all  his  throat  in  thunders,  and  to  wreak 

His  hunter's  insolence  his  heart  even  barking,  3^ 

He  frees  his  fury,  turns,  and  rushes  back 

With  such  a  ghastly  horror  that  in  heaps 

His  proud  foes  fly,  and  he  that  station  keeps  : 

So  Pompey's  cool  spirits  put  to  all  their  heat 

By  Caesar's  hard  pursuit,  he  tum'd  fresh  head,  35 

And  flew  upon  his  foe  with  such  a  rapture 

As  took  up  into  furies  all  friends'  fears ; 

Who,  fir'd  with  his  first  turning,  all  tum'd  head. 

And  gave  so  fierce  a  charge  their  followers  fled  ; 

Whose  instant  issue  on  their  both  sides,  see,  40 

And  after,  set  out  such  a  tragedy 

As  all  the  princes  of  the  earth  may  come 

To  take  their  patterns  by  the  spirits  of  Rome. 

[Exit  Nuntius] 

[SCENE    III 

A  Battlefield  near  Dyrrhachium] 

Alarm,  after  which  enter  Caesar,  following  Crassinius  calling   to 

the  Soldiers 

Cras.     Stay,  foolish  coward[s]  I     Fly  ye  Caesar's  fortunes  ? 
Cas.     Forbear,  Crassinius ;  we  contend  in  vain 
To  stay  these  vapours,  and  must  raise  our  camp. 


36o  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  II 

Cras.     How  shall  we  rise,  my  lord,  but  all  in  nproars. 
Being  still  pursu'd  ? 

Enter  Acilius 

[^^7.]  The  pursuit  stays,  my  lord ;  5 

Pompey  hath  sounded  a  retreat,  resigning 
His  time  to  you,  to  use  in  instant  raising 
Your  ill-lodg'd  army,  pitching  now  where  Fortune 
May  good  amends  make  for  her  fault  to-day. 

Cas.    It  was  not  Fortune's  fault,  but  mine,  Acilius,  10 

To  give  my  foe  charge,  being  so  near  the  sea. 
Where  well  I  knew  the  eminence  of  his  strraigth. 
And  should  have  driven  th'  encounter  further  off. 
Bearing  before  me  such  a  goodly  country. 
So  plentiful  and  rich,  in  all  things  fit  15 

To  have  supplied  my  army's  want  with  victuals. 
And  th'  able  cities,  too,  to  strengthen  it. 
Of  Macedon  and  Thessaly,  where  now 
I  rather  was  besieg'd  for  want  of  food, 
Than  did  assault  with  fighting  force  of  arms.  20 

Enter  Antony,  Vibius,  with  others 

Ant,     See,  sir,  here's  one  friend  of  your  foes  recovered. 

Cas.     Vibius  ?     In  happy  hour  I 

Vib,  For  me,  unhappy  1 

Cces.    What,  brought  against  your  will  ? 

Vib,  Else  had  not  come. 

Ant.     Sir,  he's  your  prisoner,  but  had  made  you  his 
Had  all  the  rest  pursu'd  the  chase  like  him ;  25 

He  drave  on  like  a  fury,  past  all  friends 
But  we,  that  took  him  quick  in  his  engagement. 

Cas,    O  Vibius,  you  deserve  to  pay  a  ransom 
Of  infinite  rate ;    for  had  your  general  join'd 
In  your  addression,  or  known  how  to  conquer,  30 

This  day  had  prov'd  him  the  supreme  of  Csesar. 

Vib,     Known  how  to  conquer  ?     His  five  hundred  con- 
quests 
Achiev'd  ere  this  day  make  that  doubt  unfit 
For  him  that  flies  him ;  for,    of  issues  doubtful. 
Who  can  at  all  times  put  on  for  the  best  ?  35 

If  I  were  mad,  must  he  his  army  venture 
In  my  engagement  ?     Nor  are  generals  ever 
Their  powers'  disposers  by  their  proper  angels 


Sc.  3]  TH£  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  361 

But  tmst  against  them,  oftentimes,  their  councils. 

Wherein,  I  doubt  not,  Caesar's  self  hath  err'd  40 

Sometimes,  as  well  as  Pompey. 

CcBs.  Or  done  worse, 

In  disobeying  my  council,  Vibius  ; 
Of  which  this  day's  abused  light  is  witness, 
By  which  I  might  have  seen  a  course  secure 
Of  this  discomfiture. 

Ani,  Amends  sits  ever  45 

Above  repentance  ;    what's  done,  wish  not  undone  ; 
But  that  prepared  patience  that,  you  know, 
Best  fits  a  soldier  charg'd  with  hardest  fortunes. 
Asks  still  your  use,  since  powers,  still  temperate  kept. 
Ope  still  the  clearer  eyes  by  one  fault's  sight  50 

To  place  the  next  act  in  the  surer  right. 

Cas*     You  prompt  me  nobly,  sir,  repairing  in  me 
Mine  own  stay's  practice,  out  of  whose  repose 
The  strong  convulsions  of  my  spirits  forc'd  me 
Thus  far  beyond  my  temper :    but,  good  Vibius,  55 

Be  ransom'd  with  my  love,  and  haste  to  Pompey, 
Entreating  him  from  me  that  we  may  meet. 
And  for  that  reason,  which  I  know  tiiis  day 
Was  given  by  Cato  for  his  pursuit's  stay, 
(Which  was  prevention  of  our  Roman  blood)  60 

PlDpose  my  offer  of  our  hearty  peace  ; 
That  being  reconcil'd,  and  mutual  faith 
Given  on  our  either  part,  not  three  days'  light 
May  further  show  us  foes,  but  (both  our  armies 
Dispers'd  in  garrisons)  we  may  re  torn  65 

Within  that  time  to  Italy,  such  friends 
As  in  our  country's  love  contain  our  spleens. 

Vib.     'Tis  offer'd,  sir,  above  the  rate  of  Csesar 
In  other  men,  but,  in  what  I  approve, 

Beneath  his  merits ;  which  I  wiU  not  fail  70 

T'enforce  at  full  to  Pompey,  nor  forget 
In  any  time  the  gratitude  of  my  service. 

Vibius  salutes  Antony  and  the  other  and  exit 

Cas.    Your  love,  sir,  and  your  frienjdshipl 
Ant,  This  piiepares 

A  good  induction  to  the  change  of  Fortune 
In  this  day's  issue,  if  the  pride  it  kindles  75 

In  Fbmpey's  veins  maked  him  deny  a  peace 
So  gently  ofEer'd;  for  her  alter'd  hand 


362  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CvESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  II 

Works  never  surer  from  her  ill  to  good 

On  his  side  she  hath  hurt,  and  on  the  other 

With  other  changes,  than  when  means  are  us'd  3o 

To  keep  her  constant,  yet  retire  refus'd. 

Cas,     I  try  no  such  conclusion,  but  desire 
Directly  peace.     In  m^an  space,  I'll  prepare 
For  other  issue  in  my  utmost  means  ; 

Whose  hopes  now  resting  at  Brundusium,  85 

In  that  part  of  my  army  with  Sabinus, 
I  wonder  he  so  long  dela3rs  to  bring  me. 
And  must  in  person  haste  him,  if  this  even 
I  hear  not  from  him. 

Cras.  That,  I  hope,  flies  far 

Your  full  intent,  my  lord,  since  Pompey's  navy,  90 

You  know,  lies  hovering  all  alongst  iiiose  seas 
In  too  much  danger,  for  what  aid  soever 
You  can  procure,  to  pass  your  person  safe. 

Acil.    Which   doubt  may  prove   the   cause   that   stays 
Sabinus  ; 
And,  if  with  shipping  fit  to  pass  your  army,  95 

He  yet  strains  time  to  venture,  I  presume 

You  will  not  pass  your  person  with  such  convoy 

Of  those  poor  vessels  as  may  serve  you  here. 
C£8s»    How  shall  I  help  it  ?  Shall  I  sufier  this 

Torment  of  his  delay,  and  rack  suspicions  100 

Worse  than  assur'd  destructions  through  my  thoughts  ? 
Ant.     Past  doubt  he  will  be  here  :   I  left  all  order'd. 

And  full  agreement  made  with  him  to  make 

All  utmost  haste,  no  least  let  once  suspected. 

Cas,    Suspected  ?    What  suspect  should  fear  a  friend         105 

In  such  assur'd  straits  from  his  friend's  enlargement  ? 

If  'twere  his  soldiers'  safeties  he  so  tenders. 

Were  it  not  better  they  should  sink  by  sea, 

Than  wrack  their  number,  king,  and  cause,  ashore  ? 

Their  stay  is  worth  their  ruin  (should  we  Uve),  no 

If  they  in  fault  were ;  if  their  leader,  he 

Should  die  the  deaths  of  all.    In  mean  space,  I, 

That  should  not,  bear  all.     Fly  the  sight  in  shame. 

Thou  eye  of  Nature,  and  abortive  Night 

Fall  dead  amongst  us  1    With  defects,  defects  115 

Must  serve  proportion  ;  justice  never  can 

Be  else  restored,  nor  right  the  wrongs  of  man.         Exsunt 


Sc.  4]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  363 

[SCENE   IV 

The  Camp  of  Pompey] 

Pompey,    Cato,    Gabinius,    Demetrius,    Athenodonis,    Portius, 

Statilius. 

Pom,    This  charge  of  our  fierce  foe  the  friendly  gods 
Have  in  our  strengthen'd  spirits  beaten  back 
With  happy  issue,  and  his  forces  lessen'd 
Of  two  and  thirty  ensigns  forc'd  from  him. 
Two  thousand  soldiers  slain. 

Caio,  O  boast  not  that ;  5 

Their  loss  is  yours,  my  lord. 

Pom.  I  boast  it  not. 

But  only  name  the  number. 

Gab.  Which  right  well 

You  might  have  rais'd  so  high,  that  on  their  tops 
Your  throne  was  ofier'd,  ever  t'overlook 

Subverted  Caesar,  had  you  been  so  blest  10 

To  give  such  honour  to  your  captains'  counsels 
As  their  alacrities  did  long  to  merit 
V^th  proof-ful  action. 

Dem.  O,  'twas  ill  neglected. 

Stat.     It  was  deferr'd  with  reason,  which  not  3ret 
Th'  event  so  clear  is  to  confute. 

Pom.  If  'twere,  15 

Our  likeliest  then  was  not  to  hazard  battle, 
Th'  adventure  being  so  casual ;  if  compared 
With  our  more  certain  means  to  his  subversion  ; 
For  finding  now  our  army  amply  stor'd 

With  all  things  fit  to  tarry  surer  time,  20 

Reason  thought  better  to  extend  to  length 
The  war  betwixt  us,  that  his  little  strength 
May  by  degrees  prove  none  ;  which  urged  now 
(Consisting  of  his  best  and  ablest  soldiers) 
We  should  have  found,  at  one  direct  set  battle,  25 

Of  matchless  valours,  their  defects  of  victual 
Not  tiring  yet  enough  on  their  tough  nerves  ; 
Where,  on  the  other  part,  to  put  them  still 
In  motion,  and  remotion,  here  and  there. 
Enforcing  them  to  fortifying  still  30 

Wherever  they  set  down,  to  siege  a  wall. 
Keep  watch  sdl  night  in  armour — ^their  most  part 


364  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  II 

Can  never  bear  it,  by  their  years'  oppression. 
Spent  heretofore  too  much  in  those  steel  toils. 

Cato»     1  so  advis'd,  and  yet  repent  it  not,  35 

But  much  rejoice  in  so  much  saved  blood 
As  had  been  pour'd  out  in  the  stroke  of  battle. 
Whose  fury  thus  prevented,  comprehends 
Your  country's  good  and  Empire's  ;  in  whose  care 
Let  me  beseech  you  that  in  all  this  war .  40 

You  sack  no  city  subject  to  our  rule, 
Nor  put  to  sword  one  citizen  of  Rome, 
But  when  the  needful  fury  of  the  sword 
Can  make  no  fit  distinction  in  main  battle  ; 
That  you  will  please  still  to  prolong  the  stroke  45 

Of  absolute  decision  to  these  jars. 
Considering  you  shall  strike  it  with  a  man 
Of  much  skill  and  experience,  and  one 
That  will  his  conquest  sell  at  infinite  rate, 
If  that  must  end  your  difference  ;  but  I  doubt  50 

There  will  come  humble  o£Fer  on  his  part 
Of  honour'd  peace  to  you,  for  whose  sweet  name 
So  cried  out  to  you  in  our  late-met  Senate, 
Los[e]  no  fit  offer  of  that  wished  treaty. 

Take  pity  on  your  country's  blood  as  much  55 

As  possible  may  stand  without  the  danger 
Of  hindering  her  justice  on  her  foes. 
Which  all  the  gods  to  your  full  wish  dispose.  [goi^^ 

Pom.    Why  will  you  leave  us  ?  Whither  will  you  go 
To  keep  your  worthiest  person  in  more  safety  60 

Than  in  my  army,  so  devoted  to  you  ? 

Cafo.    My  person  is  the  least,  my  lord,  I  value  ; 
I  am  commanded  by  our  powerful  Senate 
To  view  the  cities  and  the  kingdoms  situate 
About  your  either  army,  that,  which  side  65 

Soever  conquer,  no  disorder'd  stragglers, 
Puff'd  with  the  conquest,  or  by  need  impell'd. 
May  take  their  swinge  more  than  the  care  of  one 
May  curb  and  order  in  these  neighbour  confines  ; 
My  chief  pass  yet  resolves  for  Utica.  70 

Pom,     Your  pass,  my  truest  friend  and  worthy  father. 
May  all  good  powers  make  safe,  and  alwa}^  answer 
Your  infinite  merits  with  their  like  protection  ; 
In  which  I  make  no  doubt  but  we  shall  meet 
With  mutual  gieetingB,  or  for  absolute  conquest,  75 


Sc.  4]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  365 

Or  peace  preventing  that  our  bloody  stroke ; 

Nor  let  our  parting  be  dishonour'd  so 

As  not  to  taJce  into  our  noblest  notice 

Yourself,  [to  Athenodoms]  most  learned  and  admired  father, 

Whose  merits,  if  I  Uve,  shall  lack  no  honour.  80 

Fortius,  Statilius,  though  your  spirits  with  mine 

Would  highly  cheer  om,  yet  ye  shall  bestow  them 

In  much  more  worthy  conduct ;  but  lave  me, 

And  wish  me  conquest  for  3rour  country's  sake. 

Stat.    Our  lives  shall  seal  our  loves,  sir,  with  worst  deaths      85 
Adventur'd  in  yx>ur  service. 

Pom,  Y'are  my  friends. 

Exeunt  Cato,  Athenodorus»  Fortius,  Statilius 
These  friends  thus  gone,  'tis  more  than  time  we  minded 
Our  lost  friend  Vibius. 

Gab.  You  can  want  no  friends ; 

See,  our  two  Consuls,  sir,  betwixt  them  bringing 
The  worthy  Brutus. 

Enter  two  Consuls  leading  Brutus  betwixt  them 

ist  Con.  We  attend,  my  lord,  90 

With  no  mean  friend,  to  spirit  your  next  encounter, 
Six  thousand  of  our  choice  Patrician  youths 
Brought  in  his  conduct, 

2nd  Con.  And  though  never  yet 

He  hath  saluted  you  with  any  word 

Or  look  of  slenderest  love  in  his  whole  life,  95 

Since  that  long  time  since  of  his  father's  death 
By  your  hand  author'd  ;  yet,  see,  at  your  need 
He  comes  to  serve  you  freely  for  his  country. 

Pom,    His  friendly  presence,  making  up  a  third 
With  both  your  persons,  I  as  gladly  welcome  100 

As  if  Jove's  triple  flame  had  gilt  this  field. 
And  lighten'd  on  my  right  hand  from  his  shield. 

Brut.    I  well  assure  myself,  sir,  that  no  thought 
In  your  ingenuous  construction  touches 

At  the  aspersion  that  my  tendered  service  105 

Proceeds  from  my  despair  of  elsewhere  safety ; 
But  that  my  country's  safety,  owning  justly 
My  whole  abilities  of  life  and  fortunes. 
And  you  the  ablest  fautor  of  her  safety. 

Her  love,  and  (for  your  love  of  her)  yowc  own  no 

Only  makes  sacred  to  your  use  my  offering. 

Pom,    Far  fly  all  other  thought  from  my  construction 


366  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POBIPEY  [Act  II 

And  due  acceptance  of  the  liberal  honour 

Your  love  hath  done  me,  which  the  gods  are  witness 

I  take  as  stirr'd  up  in  you  by  their  favours,  115 

Nor  less  esteem  it  than  an  offering  holy ; 

Since,  as  of  all  things  man  is  said  the  measure. 

So  your  full  merits  measure  forth  a  man. 

15^  Con.    See  yet,  my  lord,  more  friends. 

2nd  Con.  Five  kinp,  yovac  servants. 

Ent&r  five  Kings 

Iber.    Conquest  and  all  grace  crown  the  gracious  Pompey,  120 
To  serve  whom  in  the  sacred  Roman  safety 
Myself,  Iberia's  king,  present  my  forces. 

Thes.    And  I  that  hold  the  tributary  throne 
Of  Grecian  Thessaly  submit  my  homage 
To  Rome  and  Pompey. 

Cic.  So  Cilicia  too.  125 

Ep.    And  so  Epirus. 

Thrace.  Lastly,  I  from  Thrace 

Present  the  duties  of  my  power  and  service. 

Pom.    Your  royal  aids  deserve  of  Rome  and  Pompey 
Our  utmost  honours.     O,  may  now  our  Fortune 
Not  balance  her  broad  breast  'twixt  two  light  wings,  130 

Nor  on  a  slippery  globe  sustain  her  steps  ; 
But  as  the  Spartans  say  the  Paphian  queen 
(The  flood  Eurotas  passing)  laid  aside 
Her  glass,  her  ceston,  and  her  amorous  graces. 
And  in  Lycurgus'  favour  arm'd  her  beauties  135 

With  shield  and  javelin  ;  so  may  Fortune  now. 
The  flood  of  all  our  enemy's  forces  passing 
With  her  fair  ensigns,  and  arriv'd  at  ours, 
Displume  her  shoulders,  cast  off  her  wing'd  shoes. 
Her  faithless  and  gtill-rolling  stone  spurn  from  her,  140 

And  enter  our  powers,  as  she  may  remain 
Our  firm  assistant ;  that  the  general  aids. 
Favours,  and  honours  you  perform  to  Rome, 
May  make  her  build  with  you  her  endless  home. 

Omnes.    The  gods  vouchsafe  it,  and  our  cause's  right.         145 

Dem.     What  sudden  shade  is  this  ?    Observe,  my  lords. 
The  night,  methinks,  comes  on  before  her  hour. 

Thunder  and  lightning 

Gab.    Nor  trust  me  if  my  thoughts  conceive  not  so. 


Sc.  5]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  367 

Brut.    What  thin  clouds  fly  the  ^vnnds,  like  swiftest  shafts 
Along  air's  middle  region  ! 

ist  Can.  They  presage  150 

Unusual  tempests. 

2nd  Con,  And  'tis  their  repair 

That  timeless  darken  thus  the  gloomy  air. 

Pom.     Let's  force  no  omen  from  it,  but  avoid 
The  vapours'  furies  now  by  Jove  employ'd. 

[Exeunt] 


[SCENE    V 

The  Bank  of  the  River  Anius] 

Thunder  cowHnued^  and  Caesar  enters  disguised 

[dss.]    The  wrathful  tempest  of  the  angry  night. 
Where  hell  flies  muffled  up  in  clouds  of  pitch. 
Mingled  with  sulphur,  and  those  dreadful  bolts 
The  Cyclops  ram  in  Jove's  artillery, 

Hath  rous'd  the  Furies,  arm'd  in  all  their  horrors,  5 

Up  to  the  envious  seas,  in  spite  of  Caesar. 
O  night,  O  jealous  night  of  all  the  noblest 
Beauties  and  glories,  where  the  gods  have  stroke 
Their  four  digestions  from  thy  ghastiy  chaos. 
Blush  thus  to  drown  them  all  in  this*  hour,  sign'd  10 

By  the  necessity  of  fate  for  Caesar. 
I,  that  have  ransack'd  all  the  world  for  worth 
To  form  in  man  the  image  of  the  gods, 
Must  like  them  have  the  power  to  check  the  worst 
Of  all  things  under  their  celestial  empire,  15 

Stoop  it,  and  burst  it,  or  break  through  it  all 
With  use  and  safety ;  till  the  crown  be  set 
On  all  my  actions,  that  the  hand  of  Nature, 
In  all  her  worst  works  aiming  at  an  end. 
May  in  a  master-piece  of  hers  be  serv'd  20 

With  tops  and  state  fit  for  his  virtuous  crown ; 
Not  lift  arts  thus  far  up  in  glorious  frame 
To  let  them  vanish  thus  in  smoke  and  shame. 
This  river  Anius  (in  whose  mouth  now  lies 
A  pinnace  I  would  pass  in  to  fetch  on  35 

My  army's  dull  rest  from  Brundusium) 
That  is  at  all  times  else  exceeding  calm 


By  reason  of  a  purling  wind  that  flies 


if 


368  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  III 

Off  from  the  shore  each  momiixg,  driving  up 

The  billows  far  to  sea,  in  this  night  yet  30 

Bears  such  a  terrible  gale,  put  off  from  sea. 

As  beats  the  land-wind  back,  and  thrusts  the  flood 

Up  in  such  uproar  that  no  boat  dace  stir. 

And  on  it  is  dispersed  all  Pompey's  navy 

To  make  my  peril  yet  more  envious.  35 

Shall  I  3^t  shrink  for  all  ?    Were  all  yet  more. 

There  is  a  certain  need  that  I  must  give 

Way  to  my  pass  ;  none  known  that  I  must  live. 

Enter  Master  of  a  ship  with  Sailors 

Mast.    What  battle  is  there  fought  now  in  the  air 
That  threats  the  wrack  of  nature  ? 

Cas.  Master,  comet  40 

Shall  we  thrust  through  it  all  ? 

Mast  What  lost  man 

Art  thou  in  hopes  and  fortunes,  that  dar'st  make 
So  desperate  a  motion  ? 

C£8s,     Launch,  man,  and  all  thy  fears'  freight  disavow  ; 
Thou  carriest  Caesar  and  his  fortunes  now.  [Exeunt]     45 

ACT  III.  SCENE    I 
[The  Camp  of  Pompey] 

Pompey,  two  Consuls,  five  Kings,  Brutus,  Gabimus,  Demetrius 

[Pom.]    Now  to  Fharsalia,  where  the  smarting  strokes 
Of  our  resolv'd  contention  must  resound. 
My  lords  and  friends  of  Rome,  I  give  you  all 
Such  welcome  as  the  spirit  of  all  my  fortunes, 
Conquests,  and  triumphs  (now  come  for  their  crown)  5 

Can  crown  your  favours  with,  and  serve  the  hopes 
Of  my  dear  country  to  her  utmost  wish : 
I  can  but  set  up  all  my  being  to  give 
So  good  an  end  ^  my  forerunning  acts, 

The  powers  in  me  that  form'd  them  having  lost  10 

No  least  time  since  in  gathering  skill  to  better. 
But,  like  so  many  bees,  have  brought  me  home 
The  sweet  of  whatsoever  flowers  have  grown 
In  aU  the  meads  and  gardens  of  the  world. 
All  which  hath  grown  still,  as  the  time  increas'[dj  15 


Sc.  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  369 

In  which  'twas  gathered,  and  with  which  it  stemmed. 

That  what  decay  soever  blood  inferred, 

Might  with  my  mind's  store  be  suppUed  and  cheer'd : 

All  which,  in  one  fire  of  this  instant  fight, 

I'll  bum  and  sacrifice  to  every  cinder  30 

In  sacred  offering  to  my  country's  love  ; 

And,  therefore,  what  event  soever  sort. 

As  I  no  praise  will  look  for,  but  the  good 

Freely  b^tow  on  all  (if  good  succeed) 

So  if  adverse  fate  fall,  I  wish  no  blame,  ^5 

But  th'  iU  befall'n  me  made  my  fortune's  shame, 

Not  mine,  nor  my  fault. 

1st  Con.  We  too  well  love  Pompey 

To  do  him  that  injustice. 

Brut,  Who  more  thirsts 

The  conquest  than  resolves  to  bear  the  foil  ? 

Pom.    Said  Brutus-Hke !     Give  several  witness  all,  30 

That  you  acquit  me  whatsoever  fall. 

2nd  Con.     Particular  men  particular  fates  must  bear : 
Who  feels  his  own  wounds  less  to  wound  another  ? 

Thes.    Leave  him  the  worst  whose  best  is  left  undone. 
He  only  conquers  whose  mind  still  is  one.  35 

Ep.    Free  minds,  like  dice,  fall  square  whate'er  the  cast. 
Iber.    Who  on  himself  sole  stands,  stands  solely  fast. 
Thrace.    He's  never  down  whose  mind  fights  stiU  aloft. 
Cil.    Who  cares  for  up  or  down,  when  all's  but  thought  ? 
Gab.    To  things'  events  doth  no  man's  power  eictend.       40 
Dem.    Since  gods  rule  all,  who  an3rthing  would  mend  ? 
Pom.     Ye  sweetly  ease  my  charge,  yourselves  unburthen- 
ing. 
Retum'd  not  yet  our  trumpet,  sent  to  know 
Of  Vibius'  certain  state  ? 

Gab.  Not  yet,  my  lord. 

Pont.    Too  long  protract  we  all  means  to  recover  45 

His  person  quick  or  dead  ;  for  I  still  think 
His  loss  serv'd  fate  before  we  blew  retreat, 
Though  some  afi&rm  him  seen  soon  after  fighting. 
Dem.    Not  after,  sir,  I  heard,  but  ere  it  ended. 
Gab,     He  bore  a  great  mind  to  extend  our  pursuit  50 

Much  further  than  it  was  ;  and  serv'd  that  day 
(When  )^u  had,  like  the  true  head  of  a  battle. 
Led  all  the  body  in  that  glorious  turn) 
Upon  a  far-off  squadron  that  stood  fast 

C.WJ>.  B  B 


370  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  III 

In  condact  of  the  great  Mark  Antony  55 

When  all  the  rest  were  fled»  so  past  a  man 

That  in  their  tough  receipt  of  him  I  saw  him 

Thrice  break  through  all  with  ease,  and  pass  as  fair 

As  he  had  all  been  fire,  and  they  but  air. 
Pom,    He  stuck  at  last,  yet,  in  their  midst  it  seem'd.  60 

Gab,    So  have  I  seen  a  fire-drake  glide  at  midnight 

Before  a  dying  man  to  point  his  grave, 

And  in  it  stick  and  hide. 

Dem,  He  comes  yet  safe. 

A  Trumpet  sounds,  and  enters  before  Vibius,  with  others 

Pom.    O  Vibius,  welcome ;  what,  a  prisoner 
With  mighty  Cassar,  and  so  quickly  ransom'd  ?  65 

Vib,    Ay,  sir ;  my  ransom  needed  little  time 
Either  to  gain  agreement  for  the  value, 
Or  the  disbursement,  since  in  Caesar's  grace 
We  both  concluded. 

Pom.  Was  his  grace  so  free  ? 

Vib.     For  your  respect,  sir. 

Pom.  Nay,  sir,  for  his  glory;  70 

That  the  main  conquest  he  so  surely  builds  on 
(Which  ever  is  forerun  with  petty  fortunes) 
Take  not  effect  by  taking  any  friend 
Ftom  all  the  most  my  poor  defence  can  make. 
But  must  be  complete  by  his  perfect  own.  75 

Vib.    I  know,  sir,  you  more  nobly  rate  the  freedom 
He  freely  gave  your  friend  than  to  pervert  it 
So  past  his  wisdom,  that  knows  much  too  well 
Th'  uncertain  state  of  conquest,  to  raise  frames 
Of  such  presumption  on  her  fickle  wings,  80 

And  chiefly  in  a  loss  so  late  and  grievous ; 
Besides,  your  forces  far  exceeding  his. 
His  whole  powers  being  but  two  and  twenty  thousand. 
And  yours  full  four  and  forty  thousand  strong : 
For  all  which  yet  he  stood  as  far  from  fear  85 

In  my  enlargement,  as  the  confident  glory 
You  please  to  put  on  him,  and  had  this  end 
In  my  so  kind  dismission,  that  as  kindly 
I  might  solicit  a  sure  peaoe  betwixt  you. 

Pom.    A  peace  I    Is't  possible  ? 

Vib.  Come,  do  not  show  90 

This  wanton  incredulity  too  much. 


Sc.  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY    371 

Pom.    Believe  me  I  was  far  fr6m  such  a  thought 
In  his  high  stomach :  Cato  prophesied  then. 
What  think  my  lords  our  Consuls,  and  friend  Brutus  ? 

[Both  Consids]    An  offer  happy  I 

BruL  Were  it  plain  and  hearty.    95 

Pont.    Ay»  there's  the  true  inspection  to  his  prospect. 

Brut,    This  strait  of  his  perhaps  may  need  a  sleight 
Of  some  hid  stratagem  to  bring  him  off. 

Pom.    Devices  of  a  new  forge  to  entrap  me  1 
I  rest  in  Caesar's  shades,  walk  his  strow'd  paths,  100 

Sleep  in  his  quiet  waves  ?    I'll  sooner  trust 
Hibernian  bogs  and  quicksands,  and  Hell  mouth 
Take  for  my  sanctuary:  in  bad  parts. 
That  no  extremes  will  better,  Nature's  finger 
Hath  mark'd  him  to  me  to  take  heed  of  him.  105 

What  thinks  my  Brutus  ? 

Brut.  'Tis  your  best  and  safest. 

Pom.    This  offer'd  peace  of  his  is  sure  a  snare 
To  make  our  war  the  bloodier,  whose  fit  fear 
Makes  me  I  dare  not  now,  in  thoughts  maturer 
Than  late  inclin'd  me,  put  in  use  the  counsel  no 

Your  noble  father  Cato,  parting,  gave  me. 
Whose  much  too  tender  shunning  innocent  blood 
This  battle  hazards  now,  that  must  cost  more. 

15/  Con.    It  does,  and  therefore  now  no  more  defer  it. 

Pom.    Say  all  men  so  ? 

Omnes.  We  do! 

Pom,  I  grieve  ye  do.  115 

Because  I  rather  wish  to  err  with  Ca|o 
Than  with  the  truth  go  of  the  world  besides  ; 
But  since  it  shaU  abide  this  other  stroke. 
Ye  gods,  that  our  great  Roman  Genius 

Have  made  not  give  us  one  day's  conquest  only,  120 

Nor  grow  in  conquests  for  some  little  time. 
As  did  the  Genius  of  the  Macedons, 
Nor  be  by  land  great  only,  like  Laconians', 
Nor  yet  by  sea  alone,  as  was  th'  Athenians', 
Nor  slowly  stirr'd  up,  like  the  Persian  angel,  125 

Nor  rock'd  asleep  soon,  like  the  Ionian  spirit ; 
But  made  our  Roman  Genius  fiery,  watchful. 
And  even  from  Rome's  piK&ne  join'd  his  youth  with  hers. 
Grow  as  she  grew,  and  firm  as  earth  abide 
By  her  increasing  pomp  at  sea  and  shore,  130 


372  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  III 

In  t>eace,  in  battle,  against  Greece  as  well 
As  our  barbarian  foes ;  command  yet  further. 
Ye  fir^n  and  just  gods,  our  assistful  angel 
For  Rome  and  Ponipey,  who  now  fights  for  Rome, 
.That  aU  these  royal  laws  to  ns,  and  justice  135 

Of  common  safety,  may  the  self-love  drown 
Of  tyrannous  Caesar,  and  my  care  for  all 
Your  altars  crown  with  endless  festival. 

Exeunt 

[SCENE  II 

The  Camp  of  Caesar] 
Caesar,  Antony,  a  Soothsayer,  Crassinius,  Acilius,  with  others 

Cas.    Say,  sacred  Soothsayer,  and  inform  the  truth. 
What  liking  hast  thou  of  our  sacrifice  ? 

Sooth*    Imperial  Caesar,  at  yx>ur  sacred  charge 
I  drew  a  milk-white  oz  into  the  temple. 
And  turning  there  his  face  into  the  east  5 

(Fearfully  shaking  at  the  shining  light) 
Down  fell  his  homed  forehead  to  his  hoof. 
When  I  began  to  greet  him  with  the  stroke 
That  should  prepare  him  for  the  holy  rites. 
With  hideous  roars  he  laid  out  such  a  throat  10 

As  made  the  secret  lurkings  of  the  god 
To  answer,  echo-like,  in  threat'ning  sounds : 
I  stroke  again  at  him,  and  then  he  slept. 
His  life-blood  boiling  out  at  every  wound 
In  streams  as  clear  as  any  liquid  ruby.  15 

And  there  began  to  alter  my  presage 
The  other  ill  signs  showing  th'  other  fortune 
Of  your  last  skirmish,  which,  far  opposite  now. 
Proves  ill  beginnings  good  events  foreshow. 
For  now,  the  beast  cut  up  and  laid  on  th'  altar,  30 

His  limbs  were  all  lick'd  up  with  instant  flames, 
Not  like  the  elemental  fire  that  bums 
In  household  uses,  lamely  struggling  up. 
This  way  and  that  way  winding  as  it  rises. 
But,  right  and  upright,  reach'd  his  proper  sphere  25 

Where  bums  the  fire  eternal  and  sincere. 

Cas,    And  what  may  that  presage  ? 

Sooth,  That  even  the  spirit 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  373 

Of  heaven's  pnie  flame  flew  down  and  ravish'd  np 

Your  ofiering's  blaze  in  that  religions  instant. 

Which  shows  th'  alacrity  and  cheerful  virtue  50 

Of  heaven's  free  bounty,  doing  good  in  time. 

And  with  what  swiftness  true  devotions  chmb. 

Omnes.    The  gods  be  honour'd  ! 

Sooth.  O  behold  with  wonder  t 

The  sacred  blaze  is  like  a  torch  enhghten'd. 
Directly  burning  just  above  your  camp  1  35 

Omnes.    Miraculous ! 

Sooth.  Believe  it,  with  all  thanks: 

The  Roman  Genius  is  alter'd  now. 
And  arms  for  Cassar. 

Cas.  Soothsayer,  be  for  ever 

Reverenc'd  of  Caesar.    O  Marc  Antony,      ^ 
I  thought  to  raise  my  camp,  and  all  my  tents  40 

Took  down  for  swift  remotion  to  Scotu^. 
Shall  now  our  purpose  hold  ? 

Ant.  Against  the  gods  ? 

They  grace  in  th'  instant,  and  in  th'  instant  we 
Must  add  our  parts,  and  be  in  th'  use  as  free. 

Cras.    See,  sir,  the  scouts  return. 

Enter  two  scotUs 

Cas.  What  news,  my  friends  ?        45 

15/  Scout,    Arm,  arm,  my  lord,  the  vaward  of  the  foe 
Is  rang'd  already  I 

2nd  Scout.  Answer  'them,  and  arm  t 

You  cannot  set  your  rest  of  battle  up 
In  happier  hour ;  for  I  this  night  beheld 
A  strange  confusion  in  your  enemy^s  camp,  50 

The  soldiers  taking  arms  in  all  dismay, 
And  hurling  them  again  as  fast  to  earth. 
Every  way  routing,  as  th'  alarm  were  then 
Given  to  their  army.    A  most  causeless  fear 
Dispers'd  quite  through  them. 

Cas.  Then  *twas  Jove  himself         55 

That  with  his  secret  finger  stirr'd  in  them. 

CfOB.    Other  presages  of  success,  my  lord. 
Have  strangely  happen'd  in  the  adjacent  cities 
To  this  your  army ;   for  in  Tralleis, 

Within  a  temple  built  to  Victory,  60 

There  stands  a  statue  with  your  fbnn  and  name, 


374  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  III 

Near  whose  finn  base,  even  from  the  marble  pavement. 

There  sprang  a  pakn-tree  up  in  this  last  night 

That  seems  to  crown  your  statue  with  his  boughs. 

Spread  in  wrapt  shadows  round  about  your  brows.  65 

Cas.    The  sign,  Crassinius,  is  most  strange  and  graceful. 
Nor  could  get  issue  but  by  power  divine ; 
Yet  will  not  that,  nor  all  abodes  besides 
Of  never  such  kind  promise  of  success 

Perform  it  without  tough  acts  of  our  own  ;  70 

No  care,  no  nerve  the  less  to  be  employed. 
No  offering  to  the  gods,  no  vows,  no  prayers  : 
Secure  and  idle  spirits  never  thrive 
When  most  the  gods  for  their  advancements  strive. 
And  therefore  tell  me  what  abodes  thou  build'st  on  75 

In  an[y]  spirit  to  act  enflam'd  in  thee. 
Or  in  our  soldiers'  seen  resolv'd  addresses. 

Cras,    Great  and  fiery  virtue  1   And  this  day 
Be  sure,  great  Caesar,  of  effects  as  great 

In  absolute  conquest ;   to  which  are  prepar'd  80 

Enforcements  resolute  from  this  arm'd  hand. 
Which  thou  shalt  praise  me  for,  ahve  or  dead. 

Cas,    Alive,  ye  gods,  vouchsafe  ;   and  my  true  vows 
For  life  in  him — great  heaven,  for  all  my  foes. 
Being  natural  Romans  I — so  far  jointly  hear  85 

As  may  not  hurt  our  conquest ;   as  with  fear. 
Which  thou  already  strangely  hast  diffused 
Through  all  their  army,  which  extend  to  flight 
Without  one  bloody  stroke  of  force  and  fight. 

Ant,    'Tis  time,  my  lord,  you  put  in  form  your  battle.     90 

Cas.    Since  we  must  fight,  then,  and  no  ofier'd  peace 
Will  take  with  Pompey,  I  rejoice  to  see 
This  long-time-look'd-for  and  most  happy  day. 
In  which  we  now  shall  fight,  with  men,  not  hunger. 
With  toils,  not  sweats  of  blood  through  years  extended,        95 
This  one  day  serving  to  decide  all  jars 
'Twixt  me  and  Pompey.    Hang  out  of  my  tent 
My  crimson  coatK)f-arms  to  give  my  soldiers 
That  ever-sure  sign  of  resolv'd-for  fight. 

Cras.    These  hands  shall  give  that  sign  to  all  their  longings.  100 

Exit  Craasiiuus 

CiBs.  [To  Antony.]  My  lord,  my  army,  I  think  best  to 
order 
In  three  full  ^uadrons ;   of  which  let  me  pray 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY   OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  375 

Yourself  would  take  on  you  the  left  wing's  charge  ; 

Myself  will  lead  the  right  wing,  and  my  place 

Of  fight  elect  in  my  tenth  legion  ;  105 

My  battle  by  Domitius  Calvinus 

ShaU  take  direction. 

The  cocU-of-arms  is  hung  out,  and  the  soldiers 
shout  within 

Ant.  Hark,  your  soldiers  shout 

For  joy  to  see  your  bloody  coat-of-arms 
Assure  their  fight  this  morning. 

CiBS,  A  blest  even 

Bring  on  them  worthy  comforts  !    And,  ye  gods,  no 

Perform  your  good  presages  in  events 
Of  fit  crown  for  our  discipline  and  deeds 
Wrought  up  by  conquest,  that  my  use  of  it 
May  wipe  the  hateful  and  unwortiiy  stain 
Of  tyrant  from  my  temples,  and  exchange  it  115 

For  fautor  of  my  country:    ye  have  given 
That  title  to  those  poor  and  fearful  fowls, 
That  every  sound  puts  up  in  frights  and  cries. 
Even  then,  when  all  Rome's  powers  were  weak  and  heartless. 
When  traitorous  fires  and  fierce  barbarian  swords,  120 

Rapines,  and  soul-expiring  slaughters  fill'd 
Her  houses,  temples,  all  her  air  and  earth. 
To  me,  then,  (whom  your  bounties  have  inform'd 
With  such  a  spirit  as  despiseth  fear. 

Commands  in  either  fortune,  knows,  and  arms  125 

Against  the  worst  of  fate,  and  therefore  can 
Dispose  blest  means,  encourag'd  to  the  best) 
Much  more  vouchsafe  that  honour ;   chiefly  now. 
When  Rome  wants  only  this  day's  conquest  given  me 
To  make  her  happy,  to  confirm  the  brightness  130 

That  yet  she  shines  in  over  all  the  world. 
In  empire,  riches,  strife  of  all  the  arts. 
In  gifts  of  cities  and  of  kingdoms  sent  her. 
In  crowns  laid  at  her  feet,  in  every  grace 
That  shores,  and  seas,  floods,  islands,  continents,  135 

Groves,  fields,  hills,  mines,  and  metals  can  produce : 
All  which  I,  victor,  will  increase,  I  vow. 
By  all  my  good,  acknowledg'd  given  by  you. 

[Ejfeuni] 


376  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  IV 

ACT  IV,  SCENE  I 

[The  Camp  of  Pompey] 

Pompey,  in  haste,  Brutus,  Gabinius,  Vibius  following 

[Pom,]    The  poison,  steep'd  in  every  vein  of  empire 
In  all  the  world,  meet  now  in  only  me. 
Thunder  and  lighten  me  to  death,  and  make 
My  senses  feed  the  flame,  my  soul  the  crack. 
Was  ever  sovereign  captain  of  so  many  5 

Armies  and  nations  so  oppressed  as  I 
With  one  host's  headstrong  outrage ;  urging  fight. 
Yet  fly  about  my  camp  in  panic  terrors. 
No  reason  under  heaven  suggesting  cause  ? 
And  what  is  this  but  even  the  gods  deterring  10 

My  judgment  from  enforcing  fight  this  mom  ? 
The  new-fled  night  made  day  with  meteors, 
Fir'd  over  Caesar's  camp,  and  fidl'n  in  mine, 
As  pointing  out  the  terrible  events 

Yet  in  suspense  ;   but  where  they  threat  their  fall,  15 

Speak  not  these  prodigies  with  fiery  tongues 
And  eloquence  that  should  not  move,  but  ravish 
All  sound  minds  from  thus  tempting  the  just  gods. 
And  spitting  out  their  fair  premonishing  flames 
With  brackish  rheums  of  ruder  and  brainsick  number  ?  20 

What's  infinitely  more — ^thus  wild,  thus  mad, 
For  one  poor  fortune  of  a  beaten  few 
To  half  so  many  staid  and  dreadful  soldiers. 
Long  train'd,  long  foughten,  able,  nimble,  perfect 
To  turn  and  wind  advantage  every  way,  25 

Increase  with  little,  and  enforce  with  none, 
Made  bold  as  lions,  gaunt  as  famish'd  wolves. 
With  still-serv'd  slaughters  and  continual  toils. 

BruL     You  should  not,  sir,  forsake  your  own  wise  counsel. 
Your  own  experienc'd  discipline,  own  practice,  30 

Own  god-inspired  insight  to  all  changes 
Of  Protean  fortune,  and  her  zany,  war. 
For  hosts  and  hells  of  such ;   what  man  will  think 
The  best  of  them  not  mad,  to  see  them  range 
So  up  and  down  your  camp,  already  suing  35 

For  offices  fall'n,  by  Caesar's  built-on  fall. 
Before  one  stroke  be  struck  ?    Domitius,  Spinther, 
Your  father  Scipio,  now  preparing  friends 


Sc.  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  377 

For  Caesar's  place  of  universal  bishop  ? 

Are  you  th'observed  rule  and  vouched  example,  40 

Who  ever  would  commend  physicians 

That  would  not  follow  the  diseased  desires 

Of  their  sick  pati^its ;  yet  incur  yourself 

The  faults  that  you  so  much  abhor  in  others  ? 

Pom.    I  cannot,  sir,  abide  men's  open  mouths,  45 

Nor  be  iU  spoken  of ;    nor  have  my  counsels 
And  circumspections  tum'd  on  me  for  fears 
With  mocks  and  scandals  that  would  make  a  man 
Of  lead  a  lightning  in  the  desperat'st  onset 
That  ever  trampled  under  death  his  Ufe.  50 

I  bear  the  touch  of  fear  for  all  their  safeties. 
Or  for  mine  own !     Enlarge  with  twice  as  many 
Self-Uves,  self-fortunes,  they  shall  sink  beneath 
Their  own  credulities,  before  I  cross  them. 
Come,  haste,  dispose  our  battle !  55 

Vib,  Good  my  lord. 

Against  your  Genius  war  not  for  the  world. 

Pom,     By  all  worlds  he  that  moves  me  next  to  bear 
Their  scoffs  and  imputations  of  my  fear 
For  any  cause,  shall  bear  this  sword  to  hell. 
Away,  to  battle  I   Good  my  lord,  lead  you  60 

The  whole  six  thousand  of  our  3roung  Patricians, 
Plac'd  in  the  left  wing  to  environ  Caesar. 
My  father  Scipio  shall  lead  the  battle  ; 
Domitius  the  left  wing ;    I  the  right 

Against  Mark  Antony.    Take  now  jrour  fills,  65 

Ye  beastly  doters  on  jrour  barbarous  wiUs.  Exeunt 


[SCENE  II 
The  Battlefield  of  Pkarsalia] 

Alarm,  excursions  of  all :  the  five  Kings  driven  over  the  stage, 
Crassinius  chiefly  pursuing.  At  the  door  enter  again  the 
five  Kings.     The  battle  conHnued  within. 

Ep.    Fly,  fly,  the  day  was  lost  before  'twas  fought. 

Thes.    The  Romans  fear'd  their  shadows. 

Cic.  Were  there  ever 

Such  monstrous  confidences,  as  last  night 
Their  cups  and  music  show'd,  before  ^e  morning 
Made  sucli  amazes  ere  one  stroke  was  struck  ? 


378  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  IV 

Iber,    It  made  great  Pompey  mad  ;  which  who  could  mend  ? 
The  gods  had  hand  in  it. 

Thrace.  It  made  the  Consuls 

Run  on  their  swords  to  see't.     The  brave  Patricians 
Fled  with  their  spoiled  faces,  arrows  sticking 
As  shot  from  heaven  at  them. 

Thes.  'Twas  the  charge  lo 

That  Caesar  gave  agaiust  them. 

Ep.  Come,  away 

Leave  all,  and  wonder  at  this  fatal  day. 

Exeunt 

The  fight  nearer  ;  and  enter  Crassinius,  a  sword  as  thrust  through 
his  face  ;  he  falls.  To  him  Pompey  and  Caesar  fighting  : 
'Pompey gives  way,  Caesar  follows,  and  enters  at  another  door 

Cas.    Pursue,  pursue  ;  the  gods  foreshow'd  their  powers. 
Which  we  gave  issue,  and  the  day  is  ours. 
Crassinius  ?    O  look  up.     He  does,  and  shows  15 

Death  in  his  broken  eyes,  which  Caesar's  hands 
Shall  do  the  honour  of  eternal  closure. 
Too  well  thou  kept'st  thy  word,  that  thou  this  day 
Wouldst  do  me  service  to  our  victory. 

Which  in  thy  life  or  death  I  should  behold,  20 

And  praise  thee  for  ;  I  do,  and  must  admire 
Thy  matchless  valour ;   ever,  ever  rest 
Thy  manly  lineaments,  which  in  a  tomb, 
Erected  to  thy  noble  name  and  virtues, 

I'll  curiously  preserve  with  balms  and  spices,  25 

In  eminent  place  of  these  Pharsalian  fields. 
Inscribed  witiii  this  true  [scroll]  of  funeral : 

Epitaph 

Crassinius  fought  for  fame  and  died  for  Rome, 
Whose  public  weal  springs  from  this  private  tomb. 

Enter  some  taking  him  off,  whom  Caesar  helps 

[SCENE  III 

Another  Part  of  the  Battle field\ 

Enter  Pompey,  Demetrius,  toith  black  robes  in  their  hands,  broad 

hats,  etc. 

Pom.    Thus  have  the  gods  their  justice,  men  their  wills, 


Sc.  3]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  379 


And  I,  by  men's  wills  rul'd,  myself  renouncing, 

Am  by  my  Angel  and  the  gods  abhorr'd. 

Who  drew  me  like  a  vapour  up  to  heaven, 

To  dash  me  like  a  tempest  gainst  the  earth. 

O,  the  deserved  terrors  that  attend 

On  humaa;jconfid(gi;U2^  I  Had  ever  men 

Such  outrage  of  presumption  to  be  victors 

Before  they  arm'd  ?     To  send  to  Rome  before 

For  houses  near  the  market-place;  their  tents 

Strow'd  aU  with  flowers  and  noaegays,  tables  cover'd 

With  cups  and  banquets,  ba3rs  and  myrtle  garlands. 

As  ready  to  do  sacrifice  for  conquest 

Rather  than  arm  them  for  fit  fight  t'  enforce  it ! 

Which,  when  I  saw,  I  knew  as  well  th'  event 

As  now  I  feel  it,  and  because  I  rag'd 

In  that  presage  (my  Genius  showing  me  clearly 

As  in  a  mirror  all  this  cursed  issue), 

And  therefore  urg'd  all  means  to  put  it  oft 

For  this  day,  or  from  these  fields,  to  some  other. 

Or  from  this  ominous  confidejic^,  till  I  saw 

Their  spirits  settled  in  "some  graver  knowledge 

Of  what  belonged  to  such  a  dear  decision. 

They  spotted  me  with  fear,  with  love  of  glory 

To  keep  in  my  command  so  many  kings. 

So  great  an  army — all  the  hellish  blastings 

That  could  be  breath'd  on  me  to  strike  me  blind, 

Of  honour,  spirit,  and  soul.    And  should  I  then 

Save  them  that  would  in  spite  of  heaven  be  ruin'd. 

And  in  their  safeties  ruin  me  and  mine 

In  everlasting  rage  of  their  detraction  ? 

Dem,    Your  safety  and  own  honour  did  deserve 
Respect  past  all  their  values.    O,  my  lord. 
Would  you — 

Pern.  Upbraid  me  not;   go  to,  go  onl 

Dem,    No ;  I'll  not  rub  the  wound.     The  misery  is 
The  gods  for  any  error  in  a  man 
(Which  they  might  rectify,  and  should,  because 
That  man  maintaia'd  the  right)  should  suffer  wrong 
To  be  thus  insolent,  thus  grac'd,  thus  blest. 

Pom,    O,  the  strange  carriage  of  their  acts,  by  which  « 
Men  order  theirs  and  their  devotions  in  them,  / 

Much  rather  striving  to  entangle  men  5. 

In  pathless  error  than  with  regular  right 


10 


15 


20 


25 


30 


35 


40 


38o  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  IV 

Confirm  their  reason's  and  their  piety's  light. 

For  now,  sir,  whatsoever  was  foreshown  45 

By  heaven,  or  prodigy — ^ten  parts  more  for  us, 

Forewarning  us,  deterring  us  and  all 

Our  blind  and  brainless  frenzies,  than  for  Caesar — 

All  yet  will  be  ascrib'd  to  his  regard 

Given  by  the  gods  for  his  good  parts,  preferring  50 

Their  gloss  (being  stark  impostures)  to  the  justice. 

Love,  honour,  piety  of  our  laws  and  country  ; 

Though  I  think  these  are  arguments  enow 

For  my  acquittal  that  for  all  these  fought. 

Dem.    Y'are  clear,  my  lord. 

Pom.  Gods  help  me,  as  I  am.        55 

Whatever  my  untouched  command  of  millions 
Through  all  my  eight  and  fifty  years  hath  won. 
This  one  day,  in  the  world's  esteem,  hath  lost. 
So  vile  is  praise  and  dispraise  by  event ; 

For  I  am  still  myself  in  every  worth  60 

The  world  could  grace  me  with,  had  this  day's  even 
In  one  blaze  join'd  with  all  my  other  conquests. 
And  shall  my  comforts  in  my  well-known  self 
Fail  me  for  their  false  fires,  Demetrius  ? 

Dem,    O  no,  my  lord! 

Pom,  Take  grief  for  them,  as  if  65 

The  rotten-hearted  world  could  steep  my  soul 
In  filthy  putrefaction  of  their  own, 
Since  their  applauses  fail  me,  that  are  hisses 
To  every  sound  acceptance  ?     I  confess 

That  tin  th'  affair  was  past  my  passions  flam'd ;  70 

But  now  'tis  helpless,  and  no  cause  in  me. 
Rest  in  these  embers  my  unmoved  soul 
With  any  outward  change,  this  distich  minding; 
'No  man  should  more  allow  his  own  loss  woes, 
(Being  past  his  fault)  than  any  stranger  does.'  75 

And  for  the  world's  false  loves  and  airy  honours. 
What  soul  that  ever  lov'd  them  most  in  life 
(Once  sever'd  from  this  breathing  sepulchre) 
Again  came  and  appear'd  in  any  kind 

Their  kind  admirer  still,  or  did  the  state  ^  80 

Of  any  best  man  here  associate  ? 
And  every  true  soul  should  be  here  so  sever'd 
From  love  of  such  men  as  here  drown  their  souls 
As  all  the  world  does,  Cato  sole  [excepted];  * 


Sc.  4]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY  381 

To  whom  I'll  fly  now,  and  my  wife  in  way  85 

(Poor  lady  and  poor  children,  worse  than  fatherlesB) 
Visit  and  comfort.    Come,  Demetrius, 

They  disguise  themselves 
We  now  must  suit  our  habits  to  our  fortunes. 
And  since  these  changes  ever  chance  to  greatest 

♦*♦♦♦♦    nor  desire  to  be  90 

(Do  Fortune  to  exceed  it  what  she  can) 
A  Pompey,  or  a  Caesar,  but  a  man.  Exeunt 


[SCENE  IV 

Another  Pari  of  the  Field] 
Enter  Caesar,  Antony,  AciUus,  with  soldiers 

Cas,    Oh,  we  have  slain,  not  conquered !    Roman  blood 
Perverts  th'  event,  and  desperate  blood  let  out 
With  their  own  swords.    Did  ever  men  before 
Envy  theif  own  lives  since  another  Uv'd 

Whom  they  would  wilfully  conceive  their  foe,  5 

And  forge  a  tjnrant  merely  in  their  fears 
To  justify  their  slaughters  ?    Consuls  ?  Furies  I 

Ant,    Be,    sir,    their   faults    their    griefs !    The    greater 
number 
Were  only  slaves  that  left  their  bloods  to  ruth. 
And  altogether  but  six  thousand  slain.  10 

Cas,    However  many,  gods  and  men  can  witness 
Themselves  enforc'd  it,  much  against  the  most 
I  could  enforce  on  Pompey  for  our  peace. 
Of  all  slain  yet,  if  Brutus  only  tiv'd 

I  should  be  comforted,  for  his  life  sav'd  15 

Would  weigh  the  whole  six  thousand  that  are  lost. 
But  much  I  fear  his  death,  because,  the. battle 
FuU  stricken  now,  he  yet  abides  unfound. 

AcU,    I  saw  him  fighting  near  the  battle's  end. 
But  suddenly  give  ofE,  as  bent  to  fly.  20 

Enter  Brutus 

Ani>    He  comes  here  ;   see,  sir. 
Brut.  I  submit  to  Qesar 

My  life  and  fortunes. 


382  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  IV 

Cas.  A  more  welcome  fortune 

Is  Brutus  than  my  conquest. 

Brut.  Sir,  I  fought 

Against  your  conquest  and  3rourself,  and  merit 
(I  must  acknowledge)  a  much  sterner  welcome.  25 

Ci8s,    You  fought  with  me,  sir,  for  I  know  3^ur  arms 
Were  taken  for  your  country,  not  for  Pompey. 
And  for  my  country  I  fought,  nothing  less 
Than  he,  or  both  the  mighty-stomach'd  Consuls; 
Both  whom,  I  hear,  have  slain  themselves  before  50 

They  would  enjoy  life  in  the  good  of  Caesar. 
But  I  am  nothing  worse,  how  ill  soever 
They  and  the  great  authority  of  Rome 
Would  fain  enforce  me  by  their  mere  suspicions. 
Lov'd  they  their  country  better  than  her  Brutus  ?  35 

Or  knew  what  fitted  noblesse  and  a  Roman 
With  freer  souls  than  Brutus  ?    Those  that  Uve 
Shall  see  in  Caesar's  justice,  and  whatever 
Might  make  me  worthy  both  their  lives  and  loves. 
That  I  have  lost  the  one  without  my  merit,  40 

And  they  the  other  with  no  Roman  spirit. 
Are  you  impaired  to  Uve  and  joy  my  love  ? 
Only  requite  me,  Brutus  ;  love  but  Caesar, 
And  be  in  all  the  powers  of  Caesar,  Caesar. 
In  which  free  wish  I  join  your  father  Cato  ;  45 

For  whom  I'll  haste  to  Utica,  and  pray 
His  love  may  strengthen  my  success  to-day.         Exmni 


[SCENE  V 
A  Room  in  Cato's  House  in  Utica]  . 

Fortius  in  haste,  Marcihus,  bare,  following.      Fortius  discovers 
a  bed  and  a  sword  hanging  by  it,  which  he  takes  down 

Mar.    To  what  use  take  you  that,  my  lord  ? 

Por.  Take  you 

No  note  that  I  take  it,  nor  let  any  servant 
Besides  yourself,  of  all  my  father's  nearest. 
Serve  any  mood  he  serves  with  any  knowledge 
Of  this  or  any  other.     Caesar  comes 
And  gives  his  army  wings  to  reach  this  town. 
Not  for  the  town's  sake,  but  to  save  my  father. 


Sc.  5]     THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY  383 

Whom  justly  he  suspects  to  be  resolv'd 

Of  any  violence  to  his  life,  before 

He  will  preserve  it  by  a  tyrant's  favour.  10 

For  Pompey  hath  miscarried  and  is  fled. 

Be  true  to  me  and  to  my  father's  life, 

And  do  not  teU  him,  nor  his  fury  serve 

With  any  other. 

Mat,  I  will  die,  my  lord. 

Ere  I  observe  it. 

Pot,  O,  my  lord  and  father  I  15 

[Enter]  Cato,  Athenodorus,  Statilius.   Cato  with  a  book  in  his  hand 

Cato,    What  fears  fly  here  on  all  sides  ?  What  wild  looks 
Are  squinted  at  me  from  men's  mere  suspicions 
That  I  am  wild  myself,  and  would  enforce 
What  wiU  be  taken  from  me  by  the  tyrant  ? 

Alh,     No.     Would  you  only  ask  life,  he  would  think         20 
His  own  Ufe  given  more  strength  in  giving  yours. 

Cato,    I  ask  my  life  of  him  t 

Stat.  Ask  what's  his  own 

Of  him  he  scorns  should  have  the  least  drop  in  it 
At  his  disposure  1 

Cato.  No,  Statilius. 

Men  that  have  forfeit  lives  by  breaking  laws,  25 

Or  have  been  overcome,  may  beg  their  lives; 
But  I  have  ever  been  in  every  justice 
Better  than  Caesar,  and  was  never  conquer'd, 
Or  made  to  fly  for  life,  as  Caesar  was. 

But  have  been  victor  ever  to  my  wish,  30 

Gainst   whomsoever  ever  hath  oppos'd  ; 
Where  Caesar  now  is  conquer'd  in  his  conquest. 
In  the  ambition  he  till  now  denied. 
Taking  upon  him  to  give  life,  when  death 
Is  tenfold  due  to  his  most  tjnrannous  self ;  35 

No  right,  no  power  given  him  to  raise  an  army 
Which  in  despite  of  Rome  he  leads  about. 
Slaughtering  her  loyal  subjects  like  an  outlaw  ; 
Nor  is  he  better.     Tongue,  show,  falsehood  are 
To  bloodiest  deaths  his  parts  so  much  admir'd,  40 

Vainglory,  villainy,  and,  at  best  you  can. 
Fed  with  the  parings  of  a  worthy  man. 
My  fame  affirm  my  life  receiv'd  from  him  ! 
I'U  rather  make  a  beast  my  second  father. 


384  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  V 

Stat.    The  gods  avert  from  every  Roman  mind  4$ 

The  name  of  slave  to  any  tyrant's  power  I 
Why  was  man  ever  just  but  to  be  free 
Gainst  all  injustice,    and  to  bear  about  him 
As  well  all  means  to  freedom  every  hour, 
f  As  every  hour  he  should  be  acm'd  for  death,  50 

\  Which  only  is  his  freedom  ? 
^      Ath.  But,  Statilius, 

Death  is  not  free  for  any  man's  election. 
Till  nature  or  the  law  impose  it  on  him. 

Cato.    Must  a  man  go  to  law,  then,  when  he  may 
Enjoy  his  own  in  peace  ?    If  I  can  use  55 

Mine  own  myself,  must  I,  of  force,  reserve  it 
To  serve  a  t3n:ant  with  it  ?    All  just  men 
Not  only  may  enlarge  their  lives,  but  must. 
From  aU  rule  t3n:annous,  or  live  unjust. 

Ath,    By  death  must  they  enlarge  their  lives  ?  60 

Cato,  By  death. 

Ath,    A  man's  not  bound  to  that. 

Cato.  I'll  prove  he  is. 

Are  not  the  lives  of  all  men  bound  to  justice  ? 

Ath.    They  are. 

Cato.  And  therefore  not  to  serve  injustice: 

Justice  itself  ought  ever  to  be  free. 

And  therefore  every  just  noan  being  a  part  65 

Of  that  free  justice,  should  be  free  as  it. 

Ath.    Then  wherefore  is  there  law  for  death  ? 

Cato.  That  all 

That  know  not  what  law  is,  nor  freely  can 
Perform  the  fitting  justice  of  a  man 

In  kingdoms'  common  good,  may  be  enforc'd.  70 

But  is  not  every  just  man  to  himself 
The  perfecfst  law  ? 

Ath.  Suppose  I 

Cato.  Then  to  himself 

Is  every  just  man's  life  subordinate. 
Again,  sir,  is  not  our  free  soul  infus'd 

To  every  body  in  her  absolute  end  75 

To  rule  that  body  ?    In  which  absolute  rule 
Is  she  not  absolutely  empress  of  it  ? 
And  being  empress,  may  she  not  dispose 
It,  and  the  life  in  it,  at  her  just  pleasure  ? 

Ath.    Not  to  destroy  it  I 


Sc.  5]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  385 

Caio.  No,  she  not  destroys  it  So 

When  she  dislives  it,  that  their  freedoms  may 
Go  firm  together,  like  their  powers  and  organs, 
Rather  than  let  it  live  a  rebel  to  her. 
Profaning  that  divine  conjunction 

'Twixt  her  and  it ;   nay,  a  disjunction  making  85 

Betwixt  them  worse  than  deatii,  in  killing  quick 
That  which  in  just  death  Uves :    being  dead  to  her. 
If  to  her  rule  dead ;  and  to  her  alive. 
If  dying  in  her  just  rule. 

Ath,  The  body  lives  not 

When  death  hath  reft  it. 

Cato,  Yet  'tis  free,  and  kept  90 

Fit  for  rejunction  in  man's  second  life. 
Which  dying  rebel  to  the  soul,  is  far 
Unfit  to  join  with  her  in  perfect  life. 

Ath.    It  shall  not  join  with  her  again. 

Cato.  It  shaU. 

Ath.    In  reason  shall  it  ? 

Cato.  In  apparent  reason.  95 

Which  111  prove  clearly. 

Stat.  Hear,  and  judge  it,  sir! 

Cato.    As  Nature  works  in  aU  things  to  an  end. 
So  in  th'  appropriate  honour  of  that  end 
All  things  precedent  have  their  natural  frame  ; 
And  therefore  is  there  a  proportion  100 

Betwixt  the  ends  of  those  things  and  their  primes  ; 
For  else  there  could  not  be  in  their  creation. 
Always,  or  for  the  most  part,  tiiat  firm  form 
In  their  still  like  existence,  that  we  see 

In  each  full  creature.    What  proportion  then  105 

Hath  an  immortal  with  a  mortal  substance  ? 
And  thexiefore  the  mortality  to  which 
A  man  is  subject  rather  is  a  sleep 
Than  bestial  death,  since  Sleep  and  Death  are  call'd 
The  twins  of  Nature.    For  if  absolute  death  no 

And  bestial  seize  the  body  of  a  man. 
Then  is  there  no  proportion  in  his  parts, 
His  soul  being  free  from  death,  which  otherwise 
Retains  divine  proportion.    For  as  sleep 
No  disproportion  holds  with  human  souls,  115 

But  aptiy  quickens  the  proportion 
'Twixt  them  and  bodies*  ihaking  bodies  fitter 

C.D.W.  c  c 


386  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPE Y  [Act  IV 

To  give  up  forms  to  souls,  which  is  their  end : 

So  death  (twin-born  of  sleep),  resolving  all 

Man's  body's  heavy  parts,  in  lighter  nature  120 

Makes  a  reunion  with  the  spritely  soul, 

When,  in  a  second  life  their  beings  given. 

Holds  their  proportion  firm  in  highest  heaven. 

Aih.    Hold  you  our  bodies  shall  revive,  resuming 
Our  souls  again  to  heaven  ? 

Cato.  Past  doubt,  though  otiiers    125 

Think  heaven  a  world  too  high  for  our  low  reaches. 
Not  knowing  the  sacred  sense  of  him  that  sings: 
'  Jove  can  let  down  a  golden  chain  from  heaven. 
Which,  tied  to  earth,  shall  fetch  up  earth  and  seas.' 
And  what's  that  golden  chain  but  our  pure  souls  ?  130 

A  golden  beam  of  him,  let  down  by  him. 
That  govem'd  with  his  grace,  and  drawn  by  him. 
Can  hoist  this  earthy  body  up  to  him. 
The  sea  and  air,  and  all  the  elements 

Compress'd  in  it ;   not  while  'tis  thus  concrete,  135 

But  fin'd  by  death,  and  then  given  heavenly  heat. 

Ath.    Your  happy  exposition  of  that  place 
(Whose  sacred  depth  I  never  heard  so  sounded) 
Evicts  glad  grant  from  me  you  hold  a  truth. 

StaU    Is't  not  a  manly  truth,  and  mere  divine  ?  140 

Cato,    'Tis  a  good  cheerful  doctrine  for  good  men. 
But,  son  and  servants,  this  is  only  argu'd 
To  spend  our  dear  time  well,  and  no  life  urgeth 
To  any  violence  further  than  his  owner 

And  graver  men  hold  fit.    Let's  talk  of  Csesar  ;  145 

He's  the  great  subject  of  all  talk,  and  he 
Is  hotly  hasting  on.    Is  supper  ready  ? 

Mar,    It  is,  my  lord. 

Cato,  Why  then,  lef  s  in  and  eat» 

Our  cool  submission  will  quench  Caesar's  heat. 

StaL    Submission  ?    Here's  for  him. 

Caio,  Statilius,  150 

My  reasons  must  not  strengthen  you  in  error. 
Nor  leam'd  Athenodorus'  gentle  yielding. 
Talk  with  some  other  deep  philosophers. 
Or  some  divine  priest  of  the  knowing  gods^ 
And  hear  their  reasons:   in  meantime  come  sup.  155 

Exeunt,    Cato  going  out  arm-in-aym  betwixt  Atheno- 
dorus and  StatUius 


Sc.  1]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY   387 

ACT  V,  SCENE  I 
[The  Island  of  Lesbos,  near  the  shore] 

Enter  Ushers  toiih  the  two  Lentuli,  and  [Sextus]  before  Cornelia ; 

Cyris,  Telesilla,  Lselia,  Drusus,  with  others  following,    Cornelia, 

[Sextus],  and  the  two  Lentuli  reading  letters 

Cor.    So  may  my  comforts  for  this  good  news  thrive. 
As  I  am  thankful  for  them  to  the  gods. 
Joys  unexpected,  and  in  desperate  plight,  ^ 

Are  still  most  sweet,  and  prove  from  whence  they  come. 
When  earth's  still  moonlike  con£degce  in  joy  5 

Is  at  her  full,  true  joy  descending  iax 
From  past  her  sphere,  and  from  that  highest  heaven 
That  moves  and  is  not  mov'd.     How  far  was  I 
From  hope  of  these  events,  when  fearful  dreams 
Of  harpies  tearing  out  my  heart,  of  armies  10 

Terribly  joining,  cities,  kingdoms  falling. 
And  aU  on  me,  prov'd  sleep  not  twin  to  death. 
But,  to  me,  death  itself  ?  Yet  waking  then. 
These  letters,  full  of  as  much  cheerful  life, 
I  found  clos'd  in  my  hand.    O  gods,  how  justly  15 

Ye  laugh  at  all  things  earthly,  at  aU  fears 
That  rise  not  from  3^ur  judgments,  at  all  joys 
Not  drawn  directly  from  yourselves  and  in  ye  I 
Distrust  in  maruis  faith,  -trust  in  him,  ruin.         } 
Why  write  great  learned  men,  men  merely  rapt  '  20 

Wil^  sacred  rage,  of  confidence,  belief. 
Undaunted  spirits,  inexorable  fate  * 

And  aU  fear  treading  on,  'tis  all  but  air  ;  j 

If  any  comfort  be,  'tis  in  despair. 

1st  Len,     You  learned  ladies  may  hold  anything.  25 

2nd  Len,    Now,  madam,  is  your  walk  from  coach  come  near 
The  promontory,  where  you  late  commanded 
A  sentinel  should  stand  to  see  from  thence 
If  either  with  a  navy,  brought  by  sea. 

Or  train  by  land,  great  Pompey  comes  to  greet  you  30 

As  in  your  letters,  he  near  this  time  promis'd. 

Cor.    O  may  this  isle  of  Lesbos,  compass'd  in 
With  the  £gaean  sea,  that  doth  divide 
Europe  from  Asia  (the  sweet  literate  world 
From  the  barbarian),  from  my  barbarous  dreams  35 

Divide  my  dearest  husband  and  his  fortunes. 


388    THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  V 

2nd  Len.    He's  busied  now  with  ordering  offices. 
By  this  time,  madam,  sits  your  honoured  father 

He  looks  in  his  letter 
In  Caesar's  chair  of  universal  bishop. 

Domitius  JSnobarbus  is  made  Consul,  40 

Spinther  his  consort ;   and  Phaonius 
Tribune,  or  Praetor. 

[Sextos  comes  forward]  with  a  letter 

Seix].  These  were  only  sought 

Before  the  battle,  not  obtain'd ;   nor  moving 
My  father  but  in  shadows. 

Cor,  Why  should  men 

Tempt  fate  with  such  firm  confidence,  seeking  places  45 

Before  the  power  that  shoul3'~9ispOse  could  grant  them  ? 
For  then  the  stroke  of  battle  was  not  struck. 

15/  Len,    Nay,  that  was  sure  enough.     Physicians  know 
When  sick  men's  e3res  are  broken  they  must  die. 
Your  letters  telling  you  his  victory  50 

[Left]  in  the  skirmish,  which  I  know  hath  broken 
Both  the  eyes  and  heart  of  Caesar :    for  as  men 
Healthful  through  all  their  lives  to  grey-hair'd  age. 
When  sickness  takes  them  once,  they  seldom  'scape : 
So  Caesar,  victor  in  his  general  fights  55 

TiU  this  late  skirmish,  could  no  adverse  blow 
Sustain  without  his  utter  overthrow. 

{Enter  a  Sentinel] 

2nd  Len,    See,  madam,  now,  your  sentinel ;   inquire. 

Cor,     Seest  thou  no  fleet  yet,  sentinel,  nor  train 
That  may  be  thought  great  Pompey's  ? 

Sent,  Not  3^t,  madam*  60 

15/  Len,    Seest  thou  no  travellers  addressed  this  way. 
In  any  number  on  this  Lesbian  shore  ? 

Sent,    I  see  some  not  worth  note,  a  couple  coming 
This  way  on  foot  that  are  not,  now,  far  hence. 

2nd  Len,    Come  they  apace,  like  messengers  with  news  ?      65 

Sent.     No,  nothing  like,  my  lord  ;   nor  are  their  habits 
Of  any  such  men's  fashions,  being  long  mantles» 
And  sable-hued,  their  heads  all  hid  in  hats 
Of  parching  Thessaly,  broad-brimm'd,  high-crown'd. 

Cor.    These  serve  not  our  hopes. 

Sent,  Now  I  see  a  ship,      70 

A  kenning  hence,  that  strikes  into  the  haven. 


Sc.  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY   389 

Cor,    One  only  ship  ? 

Sent  One  only,  madam,  yet. 

Cor.    That  should  not  be  my  lord. 
15/  Len.  Your  lord  ?    No,  madam. 

Sent.    She  now  lets  out  arm'd  men  upon  the  land. 
2nd  Len.    Arm'd  men  ?    With  drum  and  colours  ? 
Sent.  No,  my  lord  ; 

But  bright  in  arms,  [that]  bear  half-pikes  or  bead-hooks.     75 
15/  Len.    These  can  be  no  plumes  in  the  train  of  Pompey. 
Cor.    I'll  see  him  in  his  letter  once  again. 
Sent.    Now,  madam,  come  the  two  I  saw  on  foot. 

Enter  Pompey  and  Demetrius  [disguised] 

Dem.    See  your  princess,  sir,  come  thus  far  from  the  city  in    80 
her  coach,  to  encounter  your  promised  coming  about   this 
time  in  your  last  letters. 

Pom.    The  world  is  alter'd  since,  Demetrius, 

[They]  offer  to  go  by 

ist  Len.    See,  madam,  two  Thessalian  augurs,  it  seems  by 
their  habits.  Call,  and  inquire  if  either  by  their  skills  or  travels     85 
they  know  no  news  of  your  husband. 

Cor.    My  friends,  a  word  ! 

Dem.    With  us,  madam  ? 

Cor.    Yes.     Are  you  of  Thessaly  ? 

Dem.    Ay,  madam,  and  all  the  world  besides.  90 

Cor.    Your  country  is  great. 

Dem.    And  our  portions  little. 

Cor.    Are  you  augurs  ? 

Dem.   Augurs,  madam  ?  Yes,  a  kind  of  augurs,  alias  wizards, 
that  go  up  and  down  the  world  teaching  how  to  turn  ill  to    95 
good. 

Cor.    Can  you  do  that  ? 

Dem.    Ay,  madam  ;  you  have  no  work  for  us,  have  you  ? 
No  in  to  turn  good,  I  mean  ? 

Cor.     Yes,  the  absence  of  my  husband.  100 

Dem.    What's  he  ? 

Cor.     Pompey  the  Great. 

Dem.    Wherein  is  he  great  ? 

Cor.     In  his  command  of  the  world. 

Dem.    Then  he's  great  in  others.     Take  him  without  his  105 
addition,  '  Great ',  what  is  he  then  ? 

Cor,    Pompey. 

Dem.    Not  your  husband  then  ? 


390    THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  V 

Cor»    Nothing  the  less  for  his  greatness. 

Dem.    Not  in  his  right ;   but  in  your  comforts  he  is.       i  lO 

Cor,    His  right  is  my  comfort. 

Dem*    What's  his  wrong  ? 

Cor.    My  sorrow. 

Dem.    And  that* s  ill. 

Cor.    Yes.  115 

Dem.    Y'are  come  to  the  use  of  our  profession,  madam : 
would  you  have  that  ill  tum'd  good,  that  sorrow  tum'd 
comfort  ? 

Cor.    Why,  is  my  lord  wrong'd  ? 

Dem.    We  possess  not  that  knowledge,  madam  :  suppose  120 
he  were. 

Cor.    Not  1 1 

Dem.    You'll  suppose  him  good  ? 

Cor.     He  is  so. 
I     Dem.    Then  must  you  needs  suppose  him  wrong'd  ;  for  all    125 
I  goodness  is  wrong'd  in  this  world. 

Cor.    What  call  you  wrong  ? 

Dem.     Ill  fortune,  affliction. 

Cor.    Think  you  my  lord  afflicted  ? 

Dem.    If  I  think  him  good,  madam,  I  must.     Unless  he  be  130 
\  worldly  good,  and  then  either  he  is  ill  or  has  ill ;  since,  as  no 
'.  sugar  is  without  poison,  so  is  no  worldly  good  without  ill,  even 
'naturally  nourished  in  it,  like  a  household  thief,  which  is  the 
worst  of  all  thieves. 

Cor.    Then  he  is  not  worldly,  but  truly  good.  135 

(  Dem.  He's  too  great  to  be  truly  good  ;  for  worldly  great- 
'  ness  is  the  chief  worldly  goodness  ;  and  all  worldly  goodness 
(I  proved  before)  has  ill  in  it,  which  true  good  has  not. 

Cor.    If  he  rule  well  with  his  greatness,  wherein  is  he  ill  ? 

Dem.    But  great  rulers  are  like  carpenters  that  wear  their  140 
rules  at  their  backs  still ;  and  therefore  to  make  good  your  true 
good  in  him,  3r'ad  better  suppose  him  little  or  mean  ;  for  in  the 
mean  only  is  the  true  good. 

Pom.    But  every  great  lady  must  have  her  husband  great 
still,  or  her  love  will  be  Uttie.  145 

Cor.    1  am  none  of  those  great  ladies. 

15^  Len.    She's  a  philosophress,  augur,  and  can  turn  ill  to 
good  as  well  as  you. 

Pom.     1  would  then  not  honour,  but  adore  her.     Could 
you  submit  yourself  cheerfully  to  your  husband*  supposing  150 
him  fallen  ? 


Sc.  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CJESAR  AND  POMPEY    391 

Cor.    If  he  submit  himself  cheerfully  to  his  fortune. 

Pom.    'Tis  the  greatest  greatness  in  the  world  you  under- 
take. 

Car,      I  would  be  so  great,  if  he  were.  155 

Pom.     In  supposition. 

Cor.      In  fact. 

Pom.  Be  no  woman,  but  a  goddess,  then,  and  make 
good  thy  greatness.  {Revealing  himself,]  1  am  cheerfully 
fallen;  be  cheerful.  160 

Cor.    I  am,  and  welcome,  as  the  world  were  clos'd 
In  these  embraces. 

Pom.  Is  it  possible. 

A  woman,  losing  greatness,  still  as  good 
As  at  her  greatest  ?     O  gods  was  I  ever 
Great  till  this  minute ! 

Ambo  Len.  Pompey  ? 

Pom.  View  me  better!  165 

Ambo  Len.    Conquer'd  by  Caesar  ? 

Pom.  Not  I,  but  mine  army. 

No  fault  in  me  in  it ;  no  conquest  of  me ; 
I  tread  this  low  earth  as  I  trod  on  Caesar. 
Must  I  not  hold  myself,  though  lose  the  world  ? 
(Nor  lose  I  less  :  a  world  lost  at  one  clap ;  170 

Tis  more  than  Jove  ever  thunder'd  with.) 
What  glory  is  it  to  have  my  hand  hurl 
So  vast  a   volley  through  the  groaning  air  ? 
And  is't  not  great  to  turn  griefs  thus  to  joys. 
That  break  the  hearts  of  others  ?  175 

Ambo  Len.  O,  tis  Jove-like  I 

Pom,    It  is  to  imitate  Jove,  that  from  the  wounds 
Of  softest  clouds  beats  up  the  terriblest  sounds. 
I  now  am  good,  for  good  men  still  have  least. 
That  'twixt  themselves  and  God  might  rise  their  rest. 

Cor.    O,  Pompey,  Pompey,  never  'Great'  till  now  I  180 

Pom,    O,  my  Cornelia,  let  us  still  be  good. 
And  we  shall  still  be  great;  and  greater  far 
In  every  solid  grace  than  when  the  tumour 
And  bile  of  rotten  observation  swell'd  us. 
Griefs  for  wants  outward  are  without  our  cure,  185 

Greatness,  not  of  itself,  is  never  sure. 
Before  we  went  upon  heaven,  rather  treading 
The  virtues  of  it  underfoot  in  making 
The  vicious  world  our  heaven,  than  walking  there 


J 


392  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [ActV 

Even  here,  as  knowing  that  our  home,  contemning  190 

All  forg'd  heavens  here  rais'd,  setting  hills  on  hills. 

Vulcan  from  heaven  fell,  yet  on's  feet  did  light. 

And  stood  no  less  a  god  than  at  his  height. 

At  lowest,  things  lie  fast ;  we  now  are  like 

The  two  poles  propping  heaven,  on  which  heaven  moves,  195 

And  they  are  fix'd  and  quiet ;  being  above 

All  motion  far,  we  rest  above  the  heavens. 

Cor,    Oh,  I  more  joy  t'embrace  my  lord,  thus  fix'd. 

Than  he  had  brought  me  ten  inconstant  conquests. 

isU    Len.    Miraculous  standing  in  a  fall  so  great  I  200 

Would  Caesar  knew,  sir,  how  you  conquer'd  him 

In  your  conviction  1 
Pom,  'Tis  enough  for  me 

That  Pompey  knows  it.     I  will  stand  no  more 

On  others'  legs,  nor  build  one  joy  without  me. 

If  ever  I  be  worth  a  house  again  205 

I'll  build  all  inward ;  not  a  light  shall  ope 

The  common  outway ;  no  expense,  no  art. 

No  ornament,  no  door  will  I  use  there, 
(But  raise  all  plain  and  rudely,  like  a  rampier 
I  Against  the  false  society  of  men  210 

;  That  still  batters 
'All  reason  piecemeal,  and,  for  earthy  greatness. 

All  heavenly  comforts  rarefies  to  air. 

I'll  therefore  live  in  dark,  and  all  my  light. 

Like  ancient  temples,  let  in  at  my  top.  215 

This  were  to  turn  one's  back  to  sill  the  world. 

And  only  look  at  heaven.     Empedocles 

Recur'd  a  mortal  plague  through  all  his  country 

With  stopping  up  the  yawning  of  a  hill. 

From  whence  the  hollow  and  imwholesome  south  220 

Exhal'd  his  venom'd  vapour.     And  what  else 

Is  any  king,  given  over  to  his  lusts. 

But  even  the  poison'd  deft  of  that  crack'd  mountain. 

That  all  his  kingdom  plagues  with  his  example  ? 

Which  I  have  stopp'd  now,  and  so  cur'd  my  country  225 

Of  such  a  sensual  pestilence : 
,  When  therefore  our  diseas'd  affections. 

Harmful  to  human  freedom,  and,  storm-like. 

Inferring  darkness  to  th'  infected  mind. 

Oppress  our  comforts,  'tis  but  letting  in  230 

The  light  of  reason,  and  a  purer  spirit 


'.Z^l 


Sc  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  393 

Take  in  another  way ;  like  rooms  that  fight 
With  windows    gainst  the  wind,  yet  let  in  light. 

Antbo  Len,     My  lord,  we  serv'd  before,  but  now  adore  you. 

Sent.    My  lord,  the  arm'd  men  I  discovered  lately  235 

Unshipp'd  and  landed,  now  are  trooping  near. 

Pom.    What  arm'd  men  are  they  ? 

1st  Len.  Some,  my  lord,  that  lately 

The  sentinel  discovered,  but  not  knew. 

Sent,    Now  all  the  sea,  my  lords,  is  hid  with  ships  : 
Another  promontory  flanking  this,  240 

Some  furlong  hence,  is  climb'd,  and  full  of  people. 
That  easily  may  see  hither,  it  seems  looking 
What  Ijiese  so  near  intend :   take  heed,  they  come. 

Enter  Achillas,  Septi[mi]us,  Salvius,  with  soldiers 

Ach.    Hail  to  Rome's  great  commander ;  to  whom  iBgypt 
(Not  long  since  seated  in  his  kingdom  by  thee,  245 

And  sent  to  by  thee  in  thy  passage  by) 
Sends  us  with  answer;  which  withdraw  and  hear. 
Pom,    I'll  kiss  my  children  first. 
Se[x\,  Bless  me,  my  lord  ! 

Pom.    I  will,  and  Cyris,  my  poor  daughter  too. 
Even  that  high  hand  l^at  hurl'd  me  down  thus  low,  250 

Keep  you  from  rising  high  1  I  hear ;  now  tell  me. 
I  think,  my  friend,  you  once  serv'd  under  me. 

Septi[mi]us  only  nods  with  his  head 
Nod  only,  not  a  word  deign  ?    What  are  these  ? 
Comeha,  I  am  now  not  worth  men's  words. 
Ach,    Please  you  receive  your  aid,  sir  ? 
Pom.  Ay,  I   come.       255 

Exit  Pompey.     They  draw  and  follow 
Cor.    Why  draw  they  ?    See,  my  lords ;    attend  them, 
ushers  I 

[ExewnU  the  two  Lentuli,  and  Demetrius  with 
the  Ushers] 
Seixl.    O  they  have  slain  great  Pompey  I 
Cor,  O  my  husband  I 

^  *■  •''  !•    Mother,  take  comfort  I 

Enter  Pompey  bleeding 

* 

O,.  my  lord,  and  father  1 
Pom.   See,  heavens,  your  sufferings !  Is  my  country's  love. 


394   THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CfiSAR  AND  POMPEY  [ActV 

The  justice  of  an  empire,  piety,  260 

Worth  this  end  in  their  leader  ?     Last  yet,  life, 
And  bring  the  gods  oS  fairer:  after  this 
Who  will  adore  or  serve  the  deities  ? 

He  hides  his  face  with  his  robe 

Enter  the  Murtherers 

Ach.     Help  hale  him  off,    and  take  his  head  for  Caesar. 
Se\x\.    Mother,  O  save  us  !   Pompey,     O  my  father  1  265 

[Exeunt  Murderers  with  Pompey] 

Enter  the  two  Lentuli  and  Demetrius  bleeding,  and  kneel  about 

Cornelia 

1st  Len,  Yet  falls  not  heaven  ?    Madam,  O  make  good 
Your  late  great  spirits  !  All  the  world  will  say 
You  know  not  how  to  bear  adverse  events. 
If  now  you  languish. 

Omnes,  Take  her  to  her  coach. 

They  bear  her  out 


[SCENE   II 
A  Room  in  Cato's  House  in  Utica] 

Cato  tvith  a  booh  in  his  hand 

[Catcl    O  beastly  apprehenders  of  things  manly 
And  merely  heavenly !    They,  with  all  the  reasons 
I  us'd  for  just  men's  Uberties  to  bear 
Their  lives  and  deaths  up  in  their  own  free  hands. 
Fear  still  my  resolution;  though  I  seem  5 

To  give  it  ofiE  like  them,  and  now  am  won 
To  think  my  life  in  law's  rule,  not  mine  own, 
When  once  it  comes  to  death,  as  if  the  law. 
Made  for  a  sort  of  outlaws,  must  bound  me 
In  their  subjection ;  as  if  I  could  10 

Be  rack'd  out  of  my  veins  to  Uve  in  others. 
As  so  I  must,  if  others  rule  my  Hfe, 
And  public  power  keep  all  the  right  of  death ; 
As  if  men  needs  must  serve  the  place  of  justice. 
The  form  and  idol,  and  renounce  itself,  15 

Ourselves,  and  all  our  rights  in  God  and  goodness. 
Our  whole  contents  and  freedoms,  to  dispose  ^  .       .^ 

All  in  the  jo}^  and  ways  of  arrant  rogues  1  ' 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  395 

No  stay  but  their  wild  errors  to  sustam  us  t 

No  forges  but  their  throats  to  vent  our  breaths,  20 

To  form  our  lives  in,  and  repose  our  deaths  t 

See,  they  have  got  my  sword.    Who's  there  ? 

Enter  Marcilius  bare 

Mar,  My  lord  I 

Cato,     Who  took  my  sword  hence  ?     Dumb  ?  I  do  not  ask 
For  any  use  or  care  of  it,  but  hope 

I  may  be  answer'd.    Go,  sir,  let  me  have  it.    Exit  Marcilius    25 
Poor  slaves,  how  terrible  this  death  is  to  them  I 
If  men  would  sleep  they  would  be  wroth  with  all 
That  interrupt  them,  physic  take,  to  take 
The  golden  rest  it  brings,  both  pay  and  pray 
For  good  and  soundest  naps,  all  friends  consenting  30 

In  those  kind  invocations,  praying  all 
*  Good  rest  the  gods  vouchsafe  you',  but  when  Death, 
Sleep's  natural  brother,  comes  (that's  nothing  worse. 
But  better,  being  more  rich,  and  keeps  the  store; 
Sleep  ever  fickle,  wa3rward  still,  and  poor),  35 

O  how  men  grudge,  and  shake,  and  fear,  and  fly 
His  stem  approaches ;  all  their  comforts  taken 
In  faith  and  knowledge  of  the  bliss  and  beauties 
That  watch  their  wakings  in  an  endless  life, 
Drown'd  in  the  pains  and  horrors  of  their  sense  40 

Sustain'd  but  for  an  hour  I     Be  all  the  earth 
Rapt  with  this  error,  I'll  pursue  my  reason. 
And  hold  that  as  my  light  and  fiery  pillar, 
Th'  eternal  law  of  heaven  and  earth  no  firmer. 
But  while  I  seek  to  conquer  conquering  Caesar,  45 

My  soft-spleen'd  servants  overrule  and  curb  me. 

He  knocks,  and  [Butas]  enters 
Where's  he  I  sent  to  fetch  and  place  my  sword 
Where  late  I  left  it  ?    Dumb,  too  ?    Come  another  I 

Enter  Cleanthes 

Where's  my  sword  hung  here  ? 

Cle,  My  lord,  I  know  not. 

Cato,    The  rest  come  in  there  1  Enter  Marcilius      50 

Where's  the  sword  I  charg'd  you 
To  give  his  place  again  ?     I'll  break  your  lips  ope. 
Spite  of  my  freedom,  all  my  servants,  friends. 
My  son  and  all,  will  needs  betray  me  naked 


396  THE  TRAGEDY  OFC^SARAND  POMPEY[AcrV 

To  th'  anned  malice  of  a  foe  so  fierce 

And  bear-like,  mankind  of  the  blood  of  virtue.  55 

0  gods,  who  ever  saw  me  thus  contemn'd  ? 
Go,  call  my  son  in,  tell  him  that  the  less 
He  shows  himself  my  son,  the  less  I'll  care 
To  live  his  father. 

Enter  Athenodorus,  Fortius  ;  Fortius  kneeling  ;  [Butas], 

Cleanthes,  and  Marcilius  by  him 
Por,  I  beseech  you,  sir. 

Rest  patient  of  my  duty,  and  my  love ;  60 

Your  other  children  think  on,  our  poor  mother. 
Your  family,  your  country, 
t      Cato.  If  the  gods 

'  Give  over  all,  I'll  fly  the  world  with  them. 
Athenodorus,  I  admire  the  changes 

1  note  in  heavenly  providence.     When  Fompey  65 
Did  all  things  out  of  course,  past  right,  past  reason, 

He  stood  invincible  against  the  world : 

Yet  now  his  cares  grew  pious,  and  his  powers 

Set  all  up  for  his  country,  he  is  conquered. 
Aih.    The  gods'  wills  secret  are,  nor  must  we   measure    70 

Tlieir  chaste-reserved  deeps  by  our  dry  shallows. 

Sufficeth  us,  we  are  entirely  such 

As  'twixt  them  and  our  consciences  we  know 

Their  graces,  in  our  virtues,  shall  present 

Unspotted  with  the  earth,  to  th'  high  throne  75 

/That  overlooks  us ;  for  this  giant  world, 
j  Let's  not  contend  with  it,  when  heaven  itself 
j  Fails  to  reform  it :  why  should  we  afEect 

The  least  hand  over  it  ui  that  ambition  ? 

A  heap  'tis  of  digested  villany ;  80 

Virtue  in  labour  with  eternal  chaos 

Fress'd  to  a  Uving  death,  and  rack'd  beneath  it, 

Her  throes  unpitied,  every  worthy  man 

Limb  by  limb  sawn  out  of  her  virgin  womb. 

To  Hve  here  piecemeal  tortur'd ;  fly  life  then  I  85 

Your  Ufe  and  death  made  precedents  for  men.  Exit 

Cato,    Ye  hear,  my  masters,  what  a  life  this  is. 

And  use.  much  reason  to  respect  it  so. 

But  mine  shall  serve  ye.    Yet  restore  my  swordi 

Lest  too  much  ye  presume,  and  I  conceive  90 

Ye  front  me  like  my  fortunes.    Where's  Statilius  ? 


i 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPfeY   397 

i  Por,    I  think,  sir,  gone,  with  the  three  hundred  Romans 

In  Lucius  CaBsar's  charge,  to  serve  the  victor. 

Cato,    And  would  not  take  his  leave  of  his  poor  friend  ? 
Then  the  philosophers  have  stoop'd  his  spirit,  95 

Which  I  admire  in  one  so  free  and  knowing. 
And  such  a  fiery  hater  of  base  life, 
\       Besides  being  such  a  vow'd  and  noted  foe 
To  our  great  conqueror.     But  I  advis'd  him 
To  spare  his  youlli  and  live. 

Por.  My  brother  Brutus  100 

Is  gone  to  Caesar. 

Caki.  Brutus  ?    Of  mine  honour 

(Although  he  be  my  son-in-law)  I  must  say 
There  went  as  worthy  and  as  leam'd  a  precedent 
As  lives  in  Rome's  whole  rule  for  all  life's  actions ; 
And  yet  your  sister  Portia  (his  wife)  105 

Would  scarce  have  dohe  this.     But,  for  you,  my  son. 
However  Caesar  deals  with  me,  be  counsell'd 
By  your  experienc'd  father  not  to  touch 
At  any  action  of  the  public  weal. 

Nor  any  rule  bear  near  her  politic  stem  :  1 10 

For,  to  be  upright  and  sincere  therein 
Like  Cato's  son,  the  time's  corruption 
Will  never  bear  it ;  and,  to  soothe  the  time. 
You  shall  do  basely,  and  unworthy  your  life. 
Which  to  the  gods  I  wish  may  outweigh  mine  115 

In  every  virtue,  howsoever  Ul 
You  thrive  in  honour. 

Por.  I,  my  lord,  shall  gladly 

Obey  that  counsel. 

Caio.  And  what  needed  you 

Urge  my  kind  care  of  any  charge  that  nature 
Imposes  on  me  ?  Have  I  ever  shown  120 

Love's  least  defect  to  you,  or  any  dues. 
The  most  indulgent  father,  being  discreet. 
Could  do  his  dearest  blood  ?  Do  you  me  right 
In  judgment  and  in  honour,  and  dispense 
With  passionate  nature :  go,  neglect  me  not,  125 

But  send  my  sword  in.    Go,  'tis  I  that  charge  you. 

Por,    O,  my  lord  and  father  \    [To  the  others]  Come,  advise 
me.  Exeunt 

Goto,    What  have  I  now  to  think  on  in  this  wotld  ? 
No  one  thought  of  the  world :  I  go  each  minute 


398   THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY     [ActV 

Discbarg'd  of  all  cares  that  may  fit  my  freedom.  130 

The  next  world  and  my  soul,  tiien,  let  me  serve 

With  her  last  utterance,  that  my  body  may 

With  sweetness  of  the  passage  drown  the  sour 

That  death  will  mix  with  it :  the  Consuls'  souls, 

That  slew  themselves  so  nobly,  scorning  life  135 

Led  under  tyrants'  sceptres,  mine  woidd  see. 

For  we  shall  know  each  other,  and  past  death 

Retain  those  forms  of  knowledge  learn'd  in  life ; 

Since,  if  what  here  we  learn,  we  there  shall  lose, 

Our  immortality  were  not  life,  but  time.  140 

And  that  our  souls  in  reason  are  immortal 

Their  natural  and  proper  objects  prove ; 

Which  immortality  and  knowledge  are. 

For  to  that  object  ever  is  referr'd 

The  nature  of  the  soul,  in  which  the  acts  145 

Of  her  high  faculties  are  still  employed. 

And  that  true  object  must  her  powers  obtain 

To  which  they  are  in  nature's  aim  directed. 

Since  'twere  absurd  to  have  her  set  an  object 

Which  possibly  she  never  can  aspire.  150 

Enter  a  Page  with   his  sword,   taken  out  before 

Page.    Your  sword,  my  lord. 

Cato,  O,  is  it  found  ?  Lay  down 

Upon  the  bed,  my  boy.    (Exit  Page)     Poor  men !  a  boy 
Must  be  presenter ;  manhood  at  no  hand 
Must  serve  so  foul  a  fact;  for  so  are  call'd. 
In  common  mouths,  men's  fairest  acts  of  all.  155 

Unsheathe  t  Is't  sharp  ?  'Tis  sweet  I     Now  I  am  safe ; 
Come  Caesar,  quickly  now,  or  lose  your  vassal. 
Now  wing  thee,  dear  soul,  and  receive  her,  heaven. 
The  earth,  the  air,  and  seas  I  know,  and  all 
The  joys  and  horrors  of  their  peace  and  wars,  160 

And  now  will  see  the  gods'  state,  and  the  stars. 

He  falls  upon  his  sword,  and  enter  Statilius  at 
another  side  of  the  stage  with  his   sword 
drawn  ;  Portius,  [Butas],  Cleanthes,  and 
Marcilius  holding  his  hands, 
Stat.    Cato  ?  My  lord  ? 

Por.  I  swear,  Statihus,  ^ 

He's  forth,  and  gone  to  seek  you,  charging  me 
To  seek  elsewhere,  lest  you  had  slain  yourself; 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  399 

And  by  his  love  entreated  yon  would  live.  165 

Stai.    I  swear  by  all  the  gods»  I'U  run  his  fortunes. 

Por.     You  may»  you  may  ;  but  shun  the  victor  now. 
Who  near  is,  and  will  make  us  all  his  slaves. 

Stat.     He  shall  himself  be  mine  first,  and  my  slaves'.    Exit 

For,    Look,  look  in  to  my  father  1  O  I  fear  170 

He  is  no  sight  for  me  to  bear  and  live.  Exit 

Otnnes  3.     O  ruthful  spectacle ! 

Cle.  He  hath  ripp'd  his  entrails. 

[Bui].    Search,  search ;  they  may  be  found. 

Cle.  They  may,  and  are. 

Give  leave,  my  lord,  that  I  may  sew  them  up. 
Being  yet  unperish'd. 

Cato,  Stand  ofi;  now  they  are  not.  175 

He  thrusts  Mm  back  and  plucks  out  kis  enirails 
Have  he  my  curse  that  my  life's  least  part  saves ;       y 
Just  men  are  only  free,  the  rest  are  slaves.    [Dies]    \^ 

{Bui\,    Mirror  of  men  1 

Afar.  The  gods  envied  his  goodness. 

Entef  Caesar,  Antony,  Brutus,  Acilius,  witk  Lords  and  Citizens 

0/  Utica 

CcBs,    Too  late,  too  late,  with  all  our  haste  1  O  Cato, 
AU  my  late  conquest,  and  my  life's  whole  acts,  180 

Most  crown'd,  most  beautified,  are  b[l]asted  all 
With  thy  grave  life's  expiring  in  their  scorn. 
Thy  life  was  rule  to  all  lives ;  and  thy  death 
(Thus  forcibly  despising  life)  the  quench 
Of  all  lives'  glories. 

Ant,  Unreclaimed  man  I.  185 

How  censures  Brutus  his  stem  father's  fact  ? 

Brut.    'Twas  not  well  done. 

CcBS.  O  censure  not  his  acts ; 

Who  knew  as  well  what  fitted  man,  as  all  men. 

Enter  Achillas,  Septimius,  Salvius,  with  Pompey's  head 

All  [three"]  kneeling.    Your  enemy's  head,  great  Caesar  I 
Cas.  Cursed  monsters. 

Wound  not  mine  eyes  with  it,  nor  in  my  camp  190 

Let  any  dare  to  view  it ;  far  as  noblesse 
The  den  of  barbarism  flies,  and  bliss 
The  bitterest  curse  of  vex'd  and  tyranniz'd  nature. 
Transfer  it  from  me.     Bom  the  plagues  of  virtue. 


400  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Act  V 

How  durst  ye  poison  thus  my  thoughts  ?  To  torture  195 

[With]  them  with  instant  rapture. 

Omnes  3.  Sacred  Caesar  ! 

CcBS.     Away  with  them ;  I  vow  by  all  my  comforts 
Who  slack  seems,  or  not  fiery  in  my  charge. 
Shall  suffer  with  them. 

All  the  soldiers.  Oot,  base  murtherers ;  200 

Tortures,  tortures  for  them  ! 

Omnes  [3.]  Cruel  Caesar  ! 

CcBs.     Too  mild  with  any  torture. 

Hale  them  out 

Brut.  Let  me  crave 

The  ease  of  my  hate  on  their  one  curs'd  life. 

Cas.     Good  Brutus,  take  it ;    O  you  cool  the  poison 
These  villains  flaming  pour'd  upon  my  spleen 
To  suffer  with  my  loathings.     If  the  blood  205 

Of  every  common  Roman  touch'd  so  near. 
Shall  I  confirm  the  false  brand  of  my  t3rranny 
With  being  found  a  f autor  of  his  murther 
Whom  my  dear  country  choos'd  to  fight  for  her  ? 

Ant.     Your  patience,  sir  ;  their  tortures  well  will  quit  you.  210 

Brut,     Let  my  slaves'  use,  sir,  be  your  precedent. 

Cas,     It  shall,  I  swear ;  you  do  me  infinite  honour. 
O  Cato,  I  envy  thy  death,  since  thou 
Envied'st  my  glory  to  preserve  thy  life. 

Why  fled  his  son,  and  friend  Statilius  ?  215 

So  far  I  fly  their  hurt,  that  all  my  good 
Shall  fly  to  their  desires.     And,  for  himself. 
My  lords  and  citizens  of  Utica, 
His  much  renown  of  you  quit  with  your  most ; 
And  by  the  sea,  upon  some  eminent  rock,  220 

Erect  his  sumptuous  tomb,  on  which  advance 
With  all  fit  state  his  statue,  whose  right  hand 
Let  hold  his  sword,  where  may  to  all  times  rest 
His  bones  as  honoured  as  his  soul  is  blest. 


FINIS 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ALPHONSUS 
EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


C.D.W. 


D  D 


Alphonsus  Emperor  of  Germany 

TO  THE  READER 

I  SHALL  not  need  to  bespeak  thee  courteous,  if  thou  hast  seen 
this  piece  presented  with  all  the  elegance  of  life  and  action  on 
the  Blackfriars'  stage  ;  but  if  it  be  a  stranger  to  thee,  give  me 
leave  to  prepare  thy  acceptation  by  telling  thee  it  was  received 
with  general  applause,  and  thy  judgment  (I  doubt  not)  will  be 
satisfied  in  the  reading. 

I  will  not  raise  thy  expectation  further,  nor  delay  thy  enter- 
tainment by  a  tedious  preface.  The  design  is  high,  the  contrive- 
ment  subtle,  and  will  deserve  thy  grave  attention  in  the  perusaL 
Farewell. 


40S 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE 


Alphonsns,    Emperor 

of   Ger- 

Lorenzo  de  Cyprus,  Secretary 

many 

to  the  Emperor 

King   of   Bohemia,    n 

Alexander,   his  Son,   the  Em- 

Bishop  of   Mentz, 

The 

peror*s  Page 

Bishop  of  CoUen, 

Seven 

Isabella,  the  Empress 

Bishop  of  Trier, 

Electors 

Hedewick,     Daughter     to     the 

Palatine  of  the  Rhein, 

^  of  the 

Duhe  of  S<Mon 

Duke   of   Saxon, 

German 

Captain  of  the  Ouatd 

Marquess  of  Branden- 

Empire 

Soldiers 

burg, 

Jailor 

Prince  Edward  of  England 

,    .  /      Two  Boors 
Jenck,  j 

Richard,  Duke  of  Com 

waU 

«M 


[ACT  I,  SCENE    I 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Alphonsns  the  Emperor  in  his  nightgown  and  his  shirt,  and 
a  torch  in  his  hand ;  Alexander  de  Cypnis,  his  Page,  following 
him 

Alp.    Boy,  give  me  the  maater-key  of  all  liie  doors  ; 
To  bed  again,  and  leave  me  to  my^eVL !       Exit  Alexander 
Is  Richard  come  ?    Have  four  Electors  sworn 
To  make  him  Kaiser  in  despite  of  me  ? 

Why  then,  Alphonsns,  it  is  time  to  wake !  5 

No,  Englishman,  thou  art  too  hot  at  hand. 
Too  shallow-brain'd  to  undermine  my  throne ; 
The  Spanish  sun  hath  purified  my  wit. 
And  dided  up  all  gross  humours  in  my  head. 
That  I  am  sighted  as  the  king  of  birds,  10 

And  can  discern  thy  deepest  stratagems. 
I  am  the  lawful  German  Emperor, 
Chosen,  install'd,  by  general  consent ; 
And  they  may  term  me  tjnrant  as  they  please, 
I  will  be  king  and  tyrant  if  I  please,  15 

For  what  is  empire,  but  a  tyranny  ? 
And  none  but  children  use  it  otherwise. 
Of  seven  Electors  four  are  fall'n  away. 
The  other  three  I  dare  not  greatly  trust ; 
My  wife  is  sister  to  mine  enemy,  20 

And,  therefore,  wisely  to  be  dealt  withaL 
But  why  do  I  except  in  special, 
When  this  position  must  be  general. 
That  no  man  living  must  be  credited 

Further  than  tends  unto  thy  proper  good.  25 

But  to  the  purpose  of  my  silent  walk  I 
Within  this  chamber  lies  my  secretary, 
Lorenzo  de  Cyprus,  in  whose  learned  brain 
Is  all  the  compass  of  the  world  contain'd; 


4o6      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY     [Act  I 

And  as  the  ignorant  and  simple  age  30 

Of  our  forefathers,  blinded  in  their  zeal, 

Receiv'd  dark  answers  from  Apollo's  shrine. 

And  honoured  him  as  patron  of  their  bliss, 

So  I,  not  muffled  in  simplicity. 

Zealous  indeed  of  nothing  but  my  good,  35 

Haste  to  the  augur  of  my  happiness. 

To  lay  the  ground  of  my  ensuing  wars. 

He  learns  his  wisdom  not  by  flight  of  birds. 

By  pr3ring  into  sacrificed  beasts. 

By  hares  that  cross  the  way,  by  howling  wolves,  40 

By  gazing  on  the  starry  element. 

Or  vain  imaginary  calculations  ; 

But  from  a  settled  wisdom  in  itself. 

Which  teacheth  to  be  void  of  passion  ; 

To  be  religious  as  the  ravenous  wolf  45 

Who  loves  the  lamb  for  hunger  and  for  prey ; 

To  threaten  our  inferiors  with  our  looks  ; 

To  flatter  our  superiors  at  our  need  ; 

To  be  an  outward  saint,  an  inward  devil ; 

These  are  the  lectures  that  my  master  reads.  5^ 

This  key  commands  all  chambers  in  the  court; 

Now  on  a  sudden  wiU  I  try  his  wit, 

I  know  my  coming  is  unlook'd  for. 

He  opens  the  door  and  finds  Lorenzo  aslssp  aloft 
Nay,  sleep,  Lorenzo,  I  will  walk  awhile. 
As  Nature,  in  the  framing  of  the  world,  55 

Ordain'd  there  should  be  nihil  vacuum. 
Even  so,  methinks,  his  wisdom  should  contrive 
That  all  his  study  should  be  full  of  wit. 
And  every  comer  stufl'd  with  sentences. 
What's  this  ?    Plato  ?    Aristotle  ?    Tush  I  60 

These  are  ordinary  ; 
It  seems  this  is  a  note  but  newly  written. 

He  reads  a  note  which  he  finds  among  his  boohs 

'  Unaarbusta  non  alit  duos  erithacos  ;  which  being  granted^ 
the  Roman  Empire  will  not  suffice  Alphonsus,  King  of  Castile, 
and  Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall,  his  competitor.  Thy  wisdom  6$ 
teacheth  thee  to  cleave  to  the  strongest ;  Aiphonsus  is  in  posses- 
sion and  therefore  the  strongest,  but  he  is  in  hatred  with  the  Elec- 
tors, and  men  rather  honour  the  sun  rising  than  the  sun  going 
down* 

Ay  marry,  this  is  argued  like  himself ;  7^ 


Sc.  I]  ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY   407 

And  now,  methinks,  he  wakes. 

Lorenzo  riseth  and  snatches  at  his  sword,  which 
hung  by  his  bedside 

Lor.    What,    are    there  thieves  within  the   Emperor's 
Court  ? 
>^]]a]ny  thou  diest  I    What  mak'st  thou  in  my  chamber  ? 

Alp.    How  now,  Lorenzo,  wilt  thou  slay  thy  lord  ? 

Lor.    I  do  beseech  your  sacred  Majesty  75 

To  pardon  me,  I  did  not  know  your  Grace. 

Alp,    Lie  down,  Lorenzo,  I  will  sit  by  thee. 
The  air  is  sharp  and  piercing ;  tremble  not  t 
Had  it  been  any  other  but  ourself , 
He  must  have  been  a  villain  and  a  thief.  80 

Lor.    Alas,  my  lord,  what  means  your  Excellence 
To  walk  by  night  in  these  so  dangerous  times  ? 

Alp.    Have  I  not  reason  now  to  walk  and  watch, 
When  I  am  compass'd  with  so  many  foes  ? 
They  ward,  they  watch,  they  cast,  and  they  conspire  85 

To  win  confederate  princes  to  their  aid. 
And  batter  down  the  eagle  from  my  crest. 
Oh,  my  Lorenzo,  if  thou  help  me  not, 
Th'  imperial  crown  is  shaken  from  my  head. 
And  giv'n  from  me  unto  an  English  earl.  90 

Thou  knowest  how  all  things  stand  as  well  as  we, 
Who  are  our  enemies  and  who  our  friends. 
Who  must  be  threat'ned  and  who  dallied  with. 
Who  won  by  words  and  who  by  force  of  arms. 
For  all  the  honour  I  have  done  to  thee  95 

Now  speak,  and  speak  to  purpose  in  the  cause  ; 
Nay,  rest  thy  body,  labour  with  thy  brain. 
And  of  thy  words  m3rself  will  be  the  scribe. 

Lor.    Why  then,  my  lord,  take  paper,  pen,  and  ink. 
Write  first  this  maxim,  it  shall  do  you  good :  100 

I.  A  prince  must  be  of  the  nature  of  the  lion  and  the  fox,  but 
not  the  one  without  the  other. 

Alp.    The  fox  is  subtle,  but  he  wanteth  force  ; 
The  lion  strong,  but  scometh  policy ; 

I'll  imitate  Lysander  in  this  point,  105 

And  where  the  Hon's  hide  is  thin  and  scant, 
I'll  firmly  patch  it  with  the  fox's  fell. 
Let  it  suffice,  I  can  be  both  in  one. 


4o8       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERBIANY    [Act  I 

Lor.     2.  A  prince  above  all  things  must  seem  devout ;  but 
there  is  nothing  so  dangerous  to  his  state,  as  to  regard  his  promise  i  lo 
or  his  oath. 

Alp.    Tush,   feax  not  me,  my  promises  axe  sound. 
But  he  that  trusts  them  shall  be  sure  to  fail  I 

Lor.    Nay,  my  good  lord,  but  that  I  know  your  Majesty 
To  be  a  ready  [and]  quick-witted  scholar,  ii$ 

I  would  bestow  a  comment  on  the  text. 

3.  Trust  not  a  reconciled  friend,  for  good  tu^ns  cannot  blot 
out  old  grudges. 

Alp.    Then  must  I  watch  the  Palatine  of  the  Rhein  ; 
I  caus'd  his  father  to  be  put  to  death.  120 

Lor.    Your  Highness  hath  as  little  cause  to  trust 
The  dangerous,  mighty  duke  of  Saxony ; 
You  know  you  sought  to  banish  him  the  land ; 
And  as  for  CoUen,  was  not  be  the  first 
That  sent  for  Richard  into  Germany  ?  125 

Alp.    What's  thy  opinion  of  the  other  four  ? 

[Lor],    That  Bohemia  neither  cares  for  one  nor  other. 
But  hopes  this  deadly  strife  between  you  twain 
Will  cast  th'  imperial  crown  upon  his  head. 
For  Trier  and  Brandenburg,  I  think  of  them  130 

As  simple  men  that  wish  the  common  good ; 
And  as  for  Mentz,  I  need  not  censure  him, 
Richard  hath  chain'd  him  in  a  golden  bond* 
And  sav'd  his  life  from  ignominious  death* 

Alp.    Let  it  suffice,  Lorenzo,  that  I  know,  13$ 

When  Churfurst  Mentz  was  taken  prisoner 
By  young  victorious  Otho,  Duke  of  Braunschweig, 
That  Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall,  did  disburse 
The  ransom  of  a  king,  a  million. 

To  save  his  life,  and  rid  him  out  of  bands,  140 

That  sum  of  gold  did  fJl  the  Braunschweig  bags ; 
But  since  myself  have  rain'd  a  golden  shower 
Of  bright  Hungarian  ducats  and  crusadoes 
Into  the  private  coffers  of  the  bishop. 

The  English  angels  took  their  wings  and  fled  ;  145 

My  crosses  bless  his  cofiers,  and  plead  for  me ; 
His  voice  is  mine,  bought  with  ten  ton  of  gold. 
And  at  the  meeting  of  the  seven  Electors 
His  princely  double-dealing  HoUness 

Will  spoil  the  English  Emperor  of  hope.  150 

But  I  refer  these  matters  to  the  sequel ; 


Sc.  I]        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY     409 

Proceed,  Lorenzo,  forward  to  the  next. 

Lor.     I'm  glad  your  Grace  hath  dealt  so  cunningly 
With  that  [vaiDglorious]  fickle-minded  prelate, 
For  in  election  his  voice  is  first ;  155 

But  to  the  next: 

4.     *Tis  more  safety  for  a  prince  to  he  feared  than  loved. 

Alp.    Love  is  an  humour  pleaseth  him  that  loves  ; 
Let  me  be  hated,  so  I  please  myself. 

Love  is  an  humour  nuld  and  changeable,  160 

But  fear  engraves  a  reverence  in  the  heart. 

Lor.     5.  To  keep  an  ttsurped  croum,  a  prince  must  swear, 
forswear,  poison,  murder,  and  commit  all  kind  of  villainies^    , 
provided  it  be  cunningly  kept  from  the  eye  of  the  world. 

Alp.    But,  my  Lorenzo,  that's  the  hardest  point }  165 

It  is  not  for  a  prince  to  execute. 
Physicians  and  apothecaries  must  know. 
And  servile  fear  or  counsel-breaking  bribes 
Will  from  a  peasant  in  an  hour  extort 
Enough  to  overthrow  a  monarchy.  170 

Lor.    Therefore,  my  lord,  set  down  this  sixt  and  last 
article: 

6.  Be  always  jealous  of  him  that  knows  your  secrets. 
And  therefore  it  behoves  you  credit  few. 
And  when  you  grow  into  the  least  suspect,  175 

With  silent  cunning  must  you  cut  them  ofi. 
As  for  example,  Julius  Lentulus, 
A  most  renowned  Neapolitan, 
Gave  me  this  box  of  poison  ;  'twas  not  long 
But  therewithal  I  sent  him  to  his  grave.  180 

Alp.     And  what's  the  special  virtue  of  the  same  ? 

Lor.    That  it  is  twenty  da3rs  before  it  works. 

Alp.     But  what  is  this  ? 

Lor.    This  an  infection  that  kills  suddenly ; 
This  but  a  toy  to  cast  a  man  asleep.  185 

Alp.     How  ?  Being  drunk  ? 

Lor.  No,  being  smelt  unto. 

Alp.    Then  smell,  Lorenzo  ;   I  did  break  thy  sleep. 
And,  for  this  time,  this  lecture  shall  suffice. 

Lor.    What  have  you  done,  my  lord  ?   Y'ave  made  ma 
safe 
For  stirring  hence  these  four-and-twenty  hours.  190 

[He  sleepf^ 

Alp.    I  see,  this  charms  his  senses  suddenly. 


410    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY       [Act  I 

How  now,  Lorenzo,  half  asleep  already  ? 

Eneas'  pilot  by  the  God  of  dreams 

Was  never  lull'd  into  a  sounder  trance. 

And  now,  Alphonsus,  over-read  thy  notes !  He  reads  195 

These  are  already  at  my  fingers'  ends, 

And  lest  iiie  world  should  find  this  little  schedule. 

Thus  will  I  rend  the  text,  and  after  this 

On  my  behaviour  set  so  fine  a  gloss 

That  men  shall  take  me  for  a  convertite.  200 

But  some  may  think  I  should  forget  my  part 

And  have  been  over^rash  in  rending  it ; 

To  put  them  out  of  doubt  I  study  sure, 

I'll  make  a  backward  repetition 

In  being  jealous  of  my  counsel-keepers.  205 

This  is  the  poison  that  lolls  suddenly : 

So  didst  thou  unto  Julius  Lentulus, 

And  blood  with  blood  must  be  requited  thus. 

[Poisons  him] 
Now  am  I  safe,  and  no  man  knows  my  counsels. 
Churfurst  of  Mentz,  if  now  thou  play  ihy  part,  210 

Earning  thy  gold  with  cunning  worlonanship 
Upon  the  Bemish  king's  ambition, 
Richard  shall  shamefully  fail  of  his  hope. 
And  I  with  triumph  keep  my  empery.  Exit 

[SCENE  II 

The  Hall  of  Electors  at  Frankforf\ 

Enter  the  King  of  Bohemia,  the  Bishops  of  Mentz,  CoUen, 
Trier,  the  Palatine  of  the  Rhein,  the  Duke  of  Saxon, 
and  the  Marquess  of  Brandenburg. 

Boh,    Churfursts  and  Princes  of  the  election. 
Since  by  the  adverse  fortune  of  our  age 
The  sacred  and  imperial  majesty 
Hath  been  usurp'd  by  open  tyranny. 

We,  the  seven  pillars  of  the  German  Empire,  5 

To  whom  successively  it  doth  belong 
To  make  election  of  our  Emperors, 
Are  here  assembled  to  unite  anew 
Unto  her  former  strength  and  glorious  t3rpe 
Our  half-declining  Roman  monarchy;  10 

And  in  that  hope  I,  Henry,  King  of  Bohem, 


Sc.  2]      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY       411 

Churfurst  and  Sewer  to  the  Emperor, 

Do  take  my  seat  next  to  the  sacred  throne. 

Men.    Next  seat  belongs  to  Julius  Florius, 
Archbishop  of  Ment?,  Chancellor  of  Germany,  15 

I         By  birth  the  Duke  of  fruitful  Pomerland. 

Pal,    The  next  place  in  election  longs  to  me, 
George  Casimirus,  Palsgrave  of  the  Rhein, 
His  Highness'  Taster,  and  upon  my  knee 
I  vow  a  pure,  sincere,  innated  zeal  20 

Unto  my  country,  and  no  wrested  hate 
Or  private  love  shall  blind  my  intellect. 

Col.    Brave  Duke  of  Saxon,  Dutchland's  greatest  hope. 
Stir  now  or  never;  let  the  Spanish  t5rrant 
That  hath  dishonour'd  us,  murder'd  our  friends,  25 

And  stained  this  seat  with  blood  of  innocents. 
At  last  be  chastis'd  with  the  Saxon  sword ; 
And  may  Albertus,  Archbishop  of  Collen, 
Chancellor  of  Gallia,  and  the  fourth  Elector, 
Be  thought  unworthy  of  his  place  and  birth,  30 

But  he  assist  thee  to  his  utmost  power. 

Sax.    Wisdom,  not  words,  must  be  the  sovereign  salve 
To  search  and  heal  these  grievous  fester'd  wounds  ; 
And  in  that  hope  Augustus,  Duke  of  Saxon, 
Arch-Marshal  to  the  Emperor,  take  my  place.  35 

Tri.    The  like  doth  Frederick,  Archbishop  of  Trier, 
Duke  of  Lorrain,  Chancellor  of  Italy. 

Bran.    The  seventh  and  last  is  Joachim  Carolus, 
Marquess  of  Brandenburg,  overworn  with  age. 
Whose  office  is  to  be  the  Treasurer ;  40 

But  wars  have  made  the  cofiers  like  the  chair ; 
Peace  bringeth  plenty,  wars  bring  poverty ; 
Grant  Heavens  this  meeting  may  be  to  effect. 
Establish  peace,  and  cut  off  tyranny. 

Entef  the  Empress  Isabella,  King  John*s  daughter 

Emp.    Pardon  my  bold  intrusion,  mighty  Churfursts^  45 

And  let  my  words  pierce  deeply  in  your  hearts. 

0,  I  beseech  you  on  my  bended  knees, 

1,  the  poor  miserable  Empress, 
A  stranger  in  this  land,  unus'd  to  broils. 
Wife  to  the  one  and  sister  to  the  other  50 
That  are  competitors  for  sovereignty, 


-.'     c. 


412     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY      [Act  I 

All  that  I  pray  is,  make  a  quiet  end. 

Make  peace  between  my  husband  and  my  brother. 

O  think  how  grief  doth  stand  on  either  side. 

If  either  party  chance  to  be  amiss.  55 

My  husband  is  my  husband,  but  my  brother — 

My  heart  doth  melt  to  think  he  should  miscarry  t 

My  brother  is  my  brother,  but  my  husband — 

O  how  my  joints  do  shake  fearing  his  wrong  I 

If  both  should  die  in  these  uncertain  broils,  60 

0  me,  why  do  I  live  to  think  upon  't ! 
Bear  with  my  interrupted  speeches,  lords. 

Tears  stop  my  voice — your  wisdoms  know  my  meaning. 

Alas  1  I  know  my  brother  Richard's  heart 

Affects  not  empire,  he  would  rather  choose  65 

To  make  return  again  to  Palestine 

And  be  a  scourge  unto  the  infidels. 

As  for  my  lord,  he  is  impatient ; 

The  more  my  grief,  the  lesser  is  my  hope. 

Yet,  Princes,  thus  hQ  sends  you  word  by  me,  70 

He  will  submit  himself  to  your  award. 

And  labour  to  amend  what  is  amiss. 

All  I  have  said,  or  can  devise  to  say. 

Is  few  words  of  great  worth :    Make  unity  I 

Boh.    Madam,  that  we  have  sufEer'd  you  to  kneel  so  long,     75 
Agrees  not  with  your  dignity  nor  ours ; 
Thus  we  excuse  it :    when  we  once  are  set 
In  solemn  council  of  election, 
We  may  not  rise  till  somewhat  be  concluded. 
So  much  for  that :    touching  your  earnest  suit,  80 

Your  Majesty  doth  know  how  it  concerns  us. 
Comfort  yourself,  as  we  do  hope  the  best  I 
But  tell  us,  madam,  where's  your  husband  now  ? 

Emp,    I  left  him  at  his  prayers,  good  my  lord. 

Sax.    At  prayers  ?  Madam,  that's  a  miracle.  85 

PeU.    Undoubtedly  your  Highness  did  mistake, 
Twas  sure  some  book  of  conjuration  ; 

1  think  he  never  said  pray'r  in  his  life. 

Emp.    Ah  me,  my  fear,  I  fear,  wiU  take  efiect  t 
Your  hate  to  him  and  love  unto  my  brother  90 

Will  break  my  heart  and  spoil  th'  imperial  peace. 

Men.    My  Lord  of  Saxon,  and  Prince  Palatine, 
This  hard  opinion  yet  is  more  than  needs  ; 
But,  gracious  madam,  leave  us  to  ourselves. 


Sc.  2]        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY     413 

Emp.    Igo,  and  Heav'n,  that  holds  the  hearts  of  kings,  95 

Direct  your  counsels  unto  unity.  Exit 

Boh.    Now  to  the  depth  of  that  we  have  in  hand. 
This  is  the  question,  whether  the  king  of  Spain 
Shall  still  continue  in  the  royal  throne, 

Or  yield  it  up  unto  Plantagenet,  100 

Or  we  proceed  unto  a  third  election. 

Sax,    Ere  such  a  viperous,  bloodthirsty  Spaniard 
Shall  suck  the  hearts  of  our  nobility, 
Th'  imperial  sword  which  Saxony  doth  bear 
Shall  be  unsheath'd  to  war  against  the  world.  105 

Pal.    My  hate  is  more  than  words  can  testify. 
Slave  as  he  is,  he  murdered  my  father. 

Col.    Prince  Richard  is  the  champion  of  the  world. 
Learned  and  mild,  fit  for  the  government. 

Boh.    And  what  have  we  to  do  with  Englishmen  ?  110 

They  are  divided  from  our  continent. 
But  now,  that  we  may  orderly  proceed 
To  our  high  office  of  election, 
To  you,  my  Lord  of  Mentz,  it  doth  belong, 
Having  first  voice  in  this  imperial  synod,  115 

To  name  a  worthy  man  for  Emperor. 

Men.     It   may   be   thought,   most   grave   and    reverend 
Princes, 
That,  in  respect  of  divers  sums  of  gold. 
Which  Richard  of  mere  charitable  love. 

Not  as  a  bribe,  but  as  a  deed  of  alms,  120 

Disbursed  for  me  unto  the  Duke  of  Braunschweig, 
That  I  dare  name  no  other  man  but  he ; 
Or  should  I  nominate  another  prince. 
Upon  the  contrary  I  may  be  thought 

A  most  ingrateful  wretch  unto  my  friend  ;  125 

But  private  cause  must  yield  to  public  good  ; 
Therefore,  methinks,  it  were  the  fittest  course 
To  choose  the  worthiest  upon  this  bench. 

Boh.    We  are  aU  Germans  ;  why  should  we  be  yok'd 
Either  by  Englishmen  or  Spaniards  ?  1 30 

Sax.    The  Earl  of  Cornwall,  by  a  full  consent. 
Was  sent  for  out  of  En^nd. 

Men.  Though  he  were. 

Our  later  thoughts  are  purer  than  our  first ; 
And  to  conclude,  I  think  this  end  were  best. 
Since  we  have  once  chosen  him  Emperor,  ^35 


414      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY      [Act  I 

That  some  great  prince  of  wisdom  and  of  power, 
Whose  countenance  may  overbear  his  pride» 
Be  join'd  in  equal  government  with  Alphonsus. 

Boh.    Your  Holiness  hath  soundly  in  few  words 
Set  down  a  mean  to  quiet  all  these  broils.  140 

Tfi.    So  may  we  hope  for  peace,  if  he  amend ; 
But  shall  Prince  Richard  then  be  join'd  with  him  ? 

Pal.    Why  should  your  Highness  ask  that  question* 
As  if  a  prince  of  so  high  kingly  birth 
Would  live  in  couples  with  so  base  a  cur  ?  145 

Boh.    Prince  Palatine,  such  words  do  ill  become  thee* 

Sax.    He  said  but  right,  and  call'd  a  dog  a  dog. 

Boh.    His  birth  is  princely. 

Sax.  His  manners  villainoas. 

And  virtuous  Richard  scorns  so  base  a  yoke. 

Boh.    My  Lord  of  Saxon,  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  1 50 

Ambition  blinds  your  judgment  in  this  case ; 
You  hope,  if  by  your  means  Richard  be  emperor. 
He,  in  requital  of  so  great  advancement, 
Will  make  the  long-desired  marriage  up 

Between  the  Prince  of  England  and  your  [daughter];  155 

And  to  that  end  Edward,  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
Hath  borne  his  uncle  company  to  Germany. 

Sax.    Why,  King  of  Bohem,  is't  unknown  to  thee 
How  oft  the  Saxon's  sons  have  married  queens. 
And  daughters  kings,  yea,  mightiest  emperors  ?  160 

If  Edward  like  her  beauty  and  behaviour 
He'll  make  no  question  of  her  princely  birth ; 
But  let  that  pass  ;  I  say,  as  erst  I  said. 
That  virtuous  Richard  scorns  so  base  a  yoke. 

Men.    If  Richard  scorn,  some  one  upon  this  bench,  165 

Whose  power  may  overbear  Alphonsus'  pride, 
Is  to  be  named.    What  think  you,  my  lords  ? 

Sax.    I  think  it  was  a  mighty  mass  of  gold 
That  made  your  Grace  of  this  opinion. 

Men.    My  Lord  of  Saxony,  you  wrong  me  much,  170 

And  know  I  highly  scorn  to  take  a  bribe. 

Pal.    I  think  you  scorn  indeed  to  have  it  known. 
But  to  the  purpose :  if  it  must  be  so. 
Who  is  the  fittest  man  to  join  with  him  ? 

Col.    First  with  an  ox  to  plough  will  I  be  yoked.  175 

Men.  [To  Bohemia].    The  fittest  is  your  Grac^  in  mine 
opinion. 


Sc.  2]        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY      415 

Boh.    I  am  content,  to  stay  these  mntinies. 
To  take  upon  me  what  you  do  impose. 

Sax.    Why,  here's  a  tempest  quickly  overblown. 
God  give  you  joy,  my  lord,  of  half  the  Empire ;  180 

For  me,  I  will  not  meddle  in  the  matter. 
But  warn  your  Majesty  to  have  a  care 
And  vigilant  respect  unto  your  person. 
I'll  hie  me  home  to  fortify  my  towns. 
Not  to  ofiend,  but  to  defend  myself.  ^85 

Pal,    Ha'  with  you,  cousin,  and  adieu,  my  lords ; 
I  am  afraid  this  sudden  knitted  peace 
Will  turn  unto  a  tedious,  lasting  war ; 
Only  thus  much  we  do  request  you  all. 

Deal  honourably  with  the  Earl  of  Cornwall ;  190 

And  so  adieu!  Exeunt  Saxon  and  Palsgrave 

Bran.    I  like  not  this  strange  farewell  of  the  Duke's. 

Boh,    In  all  elections  some  are  malcontent. 
It  doth  concern  us  now  with  speed  to  know 
How  the  competitors  will  like  of  this;  195 

And  therefore  you,  my  Lord  Archbishop  of  Trier, 
Impart  this  order  of  arbitrament 
Unto  the  Emperor ;  bid  him  be  content 
To  stand  content  with  half,  or  lose  the  whole. 
My  Lord  of  Mentz,  go  you  unto  Prince  Richard,  aoo 

And  tell  him  flatly  here's  no  crown  nor  empire 
For  English  islanders ;  tell  him  'twere  his  best 
To  hie  him  home  to  help  the  King  his  brother. 
Against  the  Earl  of  Leicester  and  the  barons. 

Col.    My  Lord  of  Mentz,  sweet  words  will  qualify,  205 

When  bitter  terms  will  add  unto  his  rage. 
'Tis  no  small  hope  that  hath  deceiv'd  the  Duke ; 
Therefore  be  mild:  I  know  an  Englishman^ 
Being  flattered,  is  a  lamb ;  threat*  ned,  a  Hon ; 
Tell  him  his  charges,  whatsoe'er  they  are,  210 

Shall  be  repaid  with  treble  vantages  ; 
Do  this:  we  will  expect  their  resolutions. 

Men,    Brother  of  Collen,  I  entreat  3rour  Grace, 
To  take  this  charge  upon  you  in  my  stead; 
For  why,  I  shame  to  look  him  in  the  face.  215 

Col.    Your  Holiness  shall  pardon  me  in  this ; 
Had  I  the  profit  I  would  take  the  pains : 
With  shame  enough  yoiu:  Grace  may  bring  the  message. 

Men.    Thus  am  I  wrong'd,  God  knows,  unguiltily.  •  « 


416      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY      [Act  I 

Bran.    Then  arm  your  countenance  wiiJi  innocency,         390 
And  boldly  do  the  message  to  the  Prince ; 
For  no  man  else  ^will  be  the  messenger. 

Men,    Why  then  Imust,  since  there's  no  remedy. 

Exit  Mentz 

Bran,    If  Heav'n,  that  guides  the  hearts  of  mighty  men. 
Do  calm  the  minds  of  these  great  potentates,  225 

And  make  them  like  of  this  arbitrament,   ' 
Sweet  Peace  will  triumph  thoroufgfa  Christendom, 
And  Germany  shall  bless  this  happy  day. 

Enter  Alexander  de  Toledo,  the  Fiige 

Alex,    O  me  most  miserable  !    O  my  dear  father  I 

Boh.    What  means  this  passionate  accent  ?    What  art 
thou  330 

That  sounds  these  exclamations  in  our  ears  ? 

Alex,    Pardon  me.  Princes,  I  have  lost  a  father. 
O  me,  the  name  of  father  kills  my  heart ! 
O,  I  shall  never  see  my  father  more, 
H'as  ta'en  his  leave  of  me  for  age  and  age !  235 

Col,     What  was  thy  father  ? 

Alex,  Ah  me  I    What  was  a  not  ? 

Noble,  rich,  valiant,  well-belov'd  of  all. 
The  glory  and  the  wisdom  of  his  age. 
Chief  secretary  to  tiie  Emperor. 

Col,    Lorenzo  de  Toledo  !    Is  he  dead  ?  340 

Alex,    Dead,  ay  me,  dead !    Ay  me,  my  life  is  dead  I 
Strangely  this  night  bereft  of  breath  and  sense. 
And  I,  poor  I,  am  conforted  in  nothing, 
But  that  the  Emperor  laments  with  me ; 
As  I  exclaim,  so  he  ;  he  wrings  his  hands,  245 

And  makes  me  mad  to  see  his  Majesty 
Excruciate  himself  with  endless  sorrow. 

Col,    The  happiest  news  that  ever  I  did  hear  I 
Thy  father  was  a  villain  murderer. 

Witty,  not  wise,  lov'd  like  a  scorpion,  250 

Grown  rich  by  the  impoverishing  of  others. 
The  chiefest  cause  of  all  these  mutinies. 
And  Caesar's  tutor  to  all  villany. 

Alex,    None  but  an  open  liar  terms  him  so. 

Col,    What,  boy,  so  malapert  ?  355 

Boh.    Good  CoUen,  bear  with  him,  it  was  his  father ; 
Dutchland  ia  blessed  in  Lorenzo's  death. 


Sc.  2]  ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  417 

Bran»    Did  never  live  a  viler-minded  man. 

Ex&un$  [the  Electors].    Manet  Alexander 

Aisx.    Nor  king,  nor  Churfurst  should  be  privilcg'd 
To  call  me  boy,  and  rail  upon  my  father,  260 

Were  I  wehrhaftig ;  but  in  Germany 
A  man  must  be  a  boy  at  forty  years. 
And  dares  not  draw  his  weapon  at  a  dog, 
Till,  being  soundly  box'd  about  the  ears, 
His  lord  and  master  gird  him  with  a  sword.  265 

The  time  will  come  I  shall  be  made  a  man  ; 
Till  then  I'll  pine  with  thought  of  dire  revenge. 
And  Uve  in  hell  until  I  take  revenge. 

ACT  n 

[SCENE  I 

The  Hall  of  Elector s\ 

Enter  Alphonsus,  Richard  Earl  of  Cornwall^  Mentz,  Trier, 
Prince  Edward,  Bohemia,  CoUen,  Brandenburg,  Attend- 
ants,  and  Pages  with  a  sword. 

Boh.    Behold,  here  come  the  Princes  hand  in  hand, 
Fleas'd  highly  with  the  sentence,  as  it  seems. 

Alp.    Princes  and  pillars  of  the  monarchy. 
We  do  admire  your  wisdoms  in  this  cause, 
And  do  accept  the  King  of  Bohemia  5 

As  worthy  partner  in  the  government. 
Alas,  my  lords,  I  flatly  now  confess 
I  was  alone  too  weak  to  underprop 
So  great  a  burden  as  the  Roman  Empire, 
And  hope  to  make  you  all  admire  the  course  10 

That  we  intend  in  this  conjunction! 

Rich.    That  I  was  call'd  from  England  with  consent 
Of  all  the  seven  Electors  to  this  place 
Yourselves  best  know,  who  wrote  for  me  to  come. 
'Twas  no  ambition  mov'd  me  to  the  journey,  15 

But  pity  of  your  half-declining  State  ; 
Which  being  likely  now  to  be  repair'd. 
By  the  united  force  of  these  two  kings, 
I  rest  content  to  see  you  satisfied. 

Men.    Brave  Earl,  wonder  of  princely  patience,  30 

I  hope  your  Grace  will  not  misthink  of  me. 
Who  for  ypur  good,  and  for  the  Empire's  best. 
Bethought  this  means  to  set  the  world  at  peace. 

C.D.W  ,  B  B 


4i8        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  II 

Ed.    No  doubt  this  means  might  have  been  thought  upon. 
Although  your  Holiness  had  died  in  prison.  25 

Men.     Peace,  peace,  young  Prince,  you  want  experience  ! 
Your  uncle  knows  what  cares  accompany 
And  wait  upon  the  crowns  of  mightiest  kings. 
And  glad  he  is,  that  he  hath  shak'd  it  off. 

Ed,     Hark  in  your  ear,  my  lord,  hear  me  one  word,  30 

Although  it  were  more  than  a  million. 
Which  these  two  kings  bestow'd  upon  your  Grace, 
Mine  uncle  Richard's  miUion  sav'd  your  life. 

Men,    You  were  best  to  say  your  uncle  brib'd  me  then. 

Ed,    I  do  but  say  mine  uncle  sav'd  yovar  life  ;  35 

You  know.  Count  Mansfield,  your  fellow-prisoner. 
Was  by  the  Duke  of  Braunschweig  put  to  death. 

Men.     You  are  a  child,  my  lord,  your  words  are  wind. 

Ed.    You  are  a  fox,  my  lord,  and  past  a  child. 

Boh,    My  Lord  of  Cornwall,  your  great  forwardness.  40 

Crossing  the  seas  with  aid  of  Englishmen, 
Is  more  than  we  can  any  way  requite  ; 
But  this  3rour  admirable  patience. 
In  being  pleased  with  our  election. 

Deserves  far  more  than  thanks  can  satisfy :  45 

In  an3rthing  coinmand  the  Emperors, 
Who  Uve  to  honour  Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall. 

Alp,     Our  deeds  shall  make  our  protestations  good  ; 
Meanwhile,  brave  Princes,  let  us  leave  this  place, 
And  solace  us  with  joy  of  this  accord.  50 

[Ejif&uni  omnes} 

[SCENE  II 
A  Room  in  The  Cour(\ 

Enter  Isabella,  the  Empress;  Hedewick,  the  Duke  of  Saxon's 
daughter,  apparelled  like  Fortune,  drawn  on  a  globe,  with  a 
cup  in  her  hand,  wherein  are  hay-leaves,  whereupon  are  written 
the  lots.    A  train  of  ladies  following  with  music,    [The  Princes,} 

Emp.    To  gratulate  this  unexpected  peace, 
This  glorious  league  confirmed  against  all  hope, 
Jojrful  Isabella  doth  present  this  show 
Of  Fortune's  triumph,  as  the  custom  is 
At  coronation  of  our  Emperors.  ^ 


Sc.  2]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        419 

If  therefore  every  party  be  well-pleas'd. 
And  stand  content  with  this  arbitrament. 
Then  deign  to  do  as  your  progenitors, 
And  draw  in  sequence  lots  for  offices. 

Alp.    This  is  an  order  here  in  Germany  10 

For  princes  to  disport  themselves  withal, 
In  sign  their  hearts  so  firmly  are  conjoin'd 
That  they  will  bear  all  fortunes  equally; 
And  that  the  world  may  know  I  scorn  no  state 
Or  course  of  life  to  do  the  Empire  good,  15 

I  take  my  chance :  [Draws  a  loi\ 

My  fortune  is  to  be  the  Forester. 

Emp,    If  we  want  ven'son,  either  red  or  fallow. 
Wild  boar  or  bear,  you  must  be  fin'd,  my  lord. 

Boh,  [drawing  a  loi\     The  Emperor's  Taster  1 1  20 

Emp.    Your  Majesty  hath  been  tasted  to  so  oft 
That  you  have  need  of  small  instructions. 

Rich,     [drawing  a  lof]    1  am  the  Boor ;    sister,  what  is 

my  charge  ? 
Emp.    Tir'd  Uke  a  carter  and  a  clownish  boor. 
To  bring  a  load  of  wood  into  the  kitchen.  25 

Now  for  myself  [drawing] :  'faith,  I  am  Chambermaid  I 
I  know  my  charge ;  proceed  unto  the  next. 

Alp.    Prince  Edward  standeth  melancholy  still ; 
Please  it  your  Grace,  my  lord,  to  draw  your  lot. 

Emp.    Nephew,  you  must  be  solemn  with  the  sad,  30 

And  given  to  mirth  in  sportful  company. 
The  German  princes,  when  they  will  be  lusty. 
Shake  off  all  cares,  and  clowns  and  they  are  fellows, 
Ed.    Sweet  aunt,  I  do  not  know  the  country  guise. 
Yet  would  be  glad  to  learn  all  fashions :  35 

Since  I  am  next,  good  fortune  be  my  guide.    [He  draws] 
Bran.    A  most  ingenuous  countenance  hath  this  Prince, 
Worthy  to  be  the  King  of  England's  heir. 

Ed.    Be  it  no  disparagement  to  3^ou,  my  lords, 
I  am  your  Emperor  1  40 

Alp.    Sound  trumpets  ;   God  save  the  Emperor  I 
Col.  [drawing]    The  world  could  never  worse  have  fitted 
me ! 
I  am  not  old  enough  to  be  the  Cook. 

JBmp.    If  you  be  cook,  there  is  no  remedy. 
But  you  must  dress  one  mess  of  meat  yourself,  45 

Bran,  [drawing]    I  am  Physician. 


400        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  II 

Tri,  [dfawing\  I  am  Secretary. 

Men,  [drawing]    I  am  the  Jester. 

Ed.    O  excellent  1    Is  yofir  Holiness  ihe  Vice  ? 
Fortune  hath  fitted  you,  i'  faith,  my  lord  ; 
You'll  play  the  Aml^dexter  cunningly.  50 

Men.    Your  Highness  is  too  bitter  in  your  jests. 

Alp,    Come  hither,  Alexander,  to  comfort  thee 
After  the  death  of  thy  beloved  father. 
Whose  life  was  dear  unto  his  Emperor, 

Thou  shalt  make  one  in  this  solemnity ;  55 

Yet  er6  thoa  draw,  myself  will  honour  thee. 
And  as  the  custom  is,  make  thee  a  man. 
Stand  stifi,  sir  boy,    now  com'st  thou  to  thy  trial  I 
Take  this,  and  that,  and  therewithal  this  sword. 

He  gives  Alexander  a  box  an  tike  ear  or  two 
If,  while  thon  live,  thou  ever  take  the  like  60 

Of  me,  or  any  man,  I  here  pronounce 
Thou  art  a  schehn,  otherwise  a  man. 
Now  draw  thy  lot,  and  fortune  be  thy  speed. 

Ed.    Unde,  I  pray,  why  did  he  box  the  fellow  ? 
Foul  lubber  as  he  is  to  take  such  blows.  65 

Rich.    Thus  do  tiie  princes  make  their  pages  men. 

Ed,    But  that  is  strange  to  make  a  man  with  blows. 
We  say  in  England  that  he  is  a  man 
That  like  a  man  dare  meet  his  enemy. 
And  in  my  judgment  'tis  the  sounder  trial.  70 

Alex,  [drawing]     Fortune  hath  made  me  Marshal  of  the 
triumphs. 

Alp.    Now  what  remains  ? 

Emp.  That  Fortune  draw  her  lot. 

[Hedewick  ^rato^,]  opens  it  and  gives  it  to  the 
Empress  to  read 

Emp.    Sound  trumpets ;    Fortune  is  your  Emperess. 

Alp.    This  happens  right,  for  Fortune  will  be  queen. 
Now,  Emperor,  you  must  unmask  her  face,  75 

And  tell  us  how  you  like  your  Emperess; 
In  my  opinion  England  breeds  no  fairer. 

[Edward  unmasks  her'\ 

Boh.    Fair  Hedewick,  the  Duke  of  Saxon's  daughter  I 
Young  Prince  of  England,  you  are  bravely  match'd. 

Ed.    Tell  me,  sweet  aimt,  is  that  this  Saxon  Princess,       8i> 
Whose  beauty's  fame  made  Edward  cross  the  seas  ? 

Emp.    Nephew,  it  is ;  hath  fame  been  prodigal. 


Sc.  2]   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  421 

Or  ovexsparing  In  the  Princess'  praise  ? 

Ed.    Fame,  I  accuse  thee,  thou  didst  niggardize 
And  faintly  sound  my  love's  perfections.  85 

Great  lady  Fortune  and  fair  Emperess, 
Whom  chance  this  day  hath  thrown  into  my  arms. 
More  welcome  than  the  Roman  Emperess. 

Edward  kissss  her 

Hed.     Sieh  dock,  das  ist  hier  kein  gebrauch  I 
Mein  Gott,  ist  das  die  Englisch  manier  ?  90 

Doss  dich  I 

Ed.    What  meaneth  this  ?     Why  chafes  my  Emperess  ? 

Alp.    Now  by  my  troth,  I  did  expect  this  jest; 
Prince  Edward  us'd  his  country  fashion. 

Ed,    I  am  an  Englishman,  why  should  I  not  ?  95 

Emp.    Fie  nephew  Edward,  here  in  Germany 
To  kiss  a  maid !  a  fault  intolerable. 

Ed,    Why  should  not  German  maids  be  kissed  as  well 
as  others  ? 

Ric,    Nephew,  because  you  did  not  know  the  fashion. 
And  want  the  language  to  excuse  yourself,  zoo 

I'll  be  your  spokesman  to  your  Emperess. 

Ed,    Excuse  it  thus :  I  like  the  first  so  well 
That,  tell  her,  she  shall  chide  me  twice  as  much 
For  such  another :  nay,  tell  her  more  than  so, 
I'll  double  kiss  on  kiss  and  give  her  leave  105 

To  chide  and  brawl  and  cry  ten  thousand  Doss  dich  I 
And  make  her  weary  of  her  fretting  humour 
Cre  I  be  weary  of  my  kissing  vein. 
Doss  dich  t  A  jungfrau  angry  for  a  kiss  I 

Emp.   Nephew,  she  thinks  you  mock  her  in  [your]  mirth,  xio 

Ed.    I  think  the  Princes  make  a  scorn  of  me; 
If  any  do,  I'll  prove  it  with  my  sword 
That  English  courtship  leaves  it  from  the  world. 

Boh,    The  pleasant'st  aqcident  that  I  have  seen. 

Bran.    Mel^inks  the  Prince  is  chaf'd  as  well  as  she.        115 

Rich.     Gnddiges  FrduUin. 

Hed.    Doss  dich  I   nmslsl^  ich  arme  kind  eu  schand&n  ge^ 
macht  w&rden  ? 

Ed.    Doss  dich  !  I  have  kiss'd  as  good  as  you ; 
Pray,  uncle,  tell  her,  if  she  mislike  the  kiss  120 

I'll  take  it  off  again  with  such  another. 

Rich,    Ei,  liebes  Frdui&in,  nim  es  all  /iSr  giUe ;  es  ist  diie 
Englisch  manier  und  gebrauch. 


4i2      ALPHOKSUS  EMPEROR  Of  GERMANY    [Act  II 

Hed,    Euet  Gnaden  weiss  [e]s  tvohl,  es  ist  tnir  ein  grosse  sckande. 

Ed,    Good  aunt,  teach  me  so  much  Dutch  to  ask  her 
pardon.  125 

Emp.    Say  so  :  Gnddiges  Frdulein,  vergebet  mir's;  ich  will's 
nimmermehr   thun ;    then   kiss  your  hand   three  times 
upsy  Dutch. 

Ed,    Ich   wilVs  nimmermehr  thun ;    if  I  understand    it 
right. 
That's  as  much  to  say  as  I'll  do  so  no  more.  130 

Emp.    True,  nephew  I 

Ed,  Nay,  aunt,  pardon  me,  I  pray ; 

I  hope  to  kiss  her  many  thousand  times, 
And  shall  I  go  to  her  like  a  great  boy. 
And  say,  I  will  do  so  no  more  ? 

Emp,    I  pray,  cousin,  say  as  I  tell  you.  135 

Ed,    Gnddiges  Frdulein,  vergebet  mir*s ;    ich  will's  nimmer^ 
mehr  thun. 

Alp.    FUrwahr,  hein  schand, 

Hed,    Gnddiger  hochgeborner  FUrst  und  Herr,   wenn  ich 
hSnnte    so    viel  Englisch   sprechen,  ich  wollt'   Euer  Gnctden  140 
fUrwahr    ein    fiU   geben ;     ich    hoffe   aber,  ich   soil  einnuU 
so  viel  lemen,  doss  sie  mich  verstehen  soil, 

Ed.    What  sa3rs  she  ? 

Alp.    O  excellent  I  Young  Prince,  look  to  yourself  I 
She  swears  she'll  learn  some  English  for  your  sake,  14$ 

To  make  you  understand  her  when  she  chides. 

Ed.    I'll  teach  her  English,  she  shall  teach  me  Dutch ; 
Gnddiges  Frdulein,  etc. 

Boh.    It  is  great  pity  that  the  Duke  of  Saxon 
Is  absent  at  this  J03rful  accident ;  150 

I  see  no  reason,  if  his  Grace  were  here. 
But  that  the  marriage  might  be  solemniz'd  ;  '  .    . 

I  think  the  Prince  of  Wales  were  well  content. 

Ed.    I  left  sweet  England  to  none  other  end. 
And  though  the  Prince,  her  father,  be  not  here,  155 

This  royal  presence  knows  his  mind  in  this. 

Emp.    Since  you  do  come  so  roundly  to  the  purpose, 
'Tis  time  for  me  to  speak ;  the  maid  is  mine, 
Giv'n  freely  by  her  father  unto  me; 

And  to  the  end  these  broils  may  have  an  end,  160 

I  give  the  father's  interest  and  mine  own 
Unto  my  nephew,  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales. 

Ed,    A  jewel  of  incomparable  price  ^* ''..  ^   ^ 


Sc.  2]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY         423 

Your  Majesty  hath  here  bestowed  on  me ; 

How  shall  I  ask  her  if  she  be  content  ?  165 

Emp.    Say  thus  :    1st  Eu&r  Gnaden  wohl  hiemii  zufrieden  ? 

Ed.     1st  Euer  Gnaden  wohl  hiemii  lufrieden  ? 

Hed,  Was  Ihre  Durchlauchtigkeit  will,  das  will  mein 
Voter,  und  was  mein  Voter  will,  damit  muss  ich  zufrieden 
sein,  170 

Alp,    It  is  enough,  she  doth  confirm  the  match  ; 
We  will  despatch  a  post  unto  her  father. 
On  Sunday  shall  the  revels  and  the  wedding 
Be  both  solemnized  with  mutual  joy. 

Sound  trumpets,  each  one  look  unto  his  charge  175 

For  preparation  of  the  festivals. 

Exeunt.     Manent  Alphonsus  and  Alexander 
Come  hither,  Alexander,  thy  father's  joy. 
If  tears,  and  sighs,  and  deep-fetch'd  deadly  groans 
Could  serve  t'evert  inexorable  fate. 

Divine  Lorenzo,  whom  in  life  my  heart,  180 

In  death  my  soul  and  better  art  adores, 
Had  to  thy  comfort  and  his  prince's  honour 
Surviv'd,  and  drawn  this  day  this  breath  of  life. 

Alex,    Dread  Caesar,  prostrate  on  my  bended  knee, 
I  thank  your  Majesty  for  all  favours  shown  185 

To  my  deceased  father  and  myself. 
I  must  confess,  I  spend  but  bootless  tears, 
Yet  cannot  bridle  nature :  I  must  weep. 
Or  heart  will  break  with  burden  of  my  thoughts ; 
Nor  am  I  yet  so  young  or  fond  withal  190 

Causeless  to  spend  my  gall  and  fret  my  heart ; 
'Tis  not  that  he  is  dead,  for  all  must  die. 
But  that  I  live  to  hear  his  life's  reproach. 
O  sacred  Emperor,  these  ears  have  heard 
What  no  son's  ears  can  unrevenged  hear ;  195 

The  Princes,  all  of  them,  but  specially 
The  Prince  Elector,  Archbishop  of  Collen, 
Revil'd  him  by  the  names  of  murderer, 
Arch-viUain,  robber  of  the  Empire's  fame. 
And  Caesar's  tutor  in  all  wickedness,  200 

And  with  a  general  voice  applaus'd  his  death 
As  for  a  special  good  to  Christendom. 

Alp.    Have  they  not  reason  to  applaud  the  deed 
Which  they,  themselves  have  plotted  ?    Ah,  my  boy. 
Thou  art  too  young  to  dive  into  their  drifts.  205 


424        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  II 

Alex,    Yet  old  enough,  I  hope,  to  be  reveng'd. 

Alp,    What  wilt  thou  do»  or  whither  wilt  thou  run  ? 

Alex,    Headlong  to  bring  them  death,  then  die  myself. 

Alp,    .First  hear  the  reason  why  I  do  mistrust  them. 

Alex,    They  had  no  reason  for  my  father's  death,  .  210 

And  I  scorn  reason  till  they  all  be  dead. 

Alp,    Thou  wilt  not  scorn  my  counsel  in  revenge  ? 

Alex,    My  rage  admits  no  counsel  but  revenge. 

Alp,    First  let  me  tell  thee  whom  I  do  mistrust. 

Alex,     Your  Highness  said  you  did  mistrust  them  all.      215 

Alp,    Yea,  Alexander,  all  of  them,  and  more  than    sdl 
My  most  especial,  nearest,  dearest  friends. 

Alex,    All's  one  to  me,  for  know  thou.  Emperor, 
Were  it  thy  father,  brother,  or  thine  Empress, 
Yea,  were't  thyself  that  didst  conspire  his  death,  220 

This  fatal  hand  should  take  away  thy  life. 

Alp,    Spoke  like  a  son,  worthy  so  dear  a  father  ; 
Be  still  and  hearken,  I  will  tell  thee  all. 
The  Duke  of  Saxon — 

Alex,  O,  I  thought  no  lessl 

Alp,     Suppress  thy  choler,  hearken  to  the  rest.  225 

Saxon,  I  say,  so  wrought  with  flattering  Mentz, 
Mentz  with  Bohemia,  Trier,  and  Brandenburg 
(For  Collen  and  the  Palsgrave  of  the  Rhein 
Were  principals  with  Saxon  in  the  plot). 

That,  ia  a  general  meeting  to  that  purpose,  2jo 

The  seven  selected  Emperor's  Electors 
Most  heinously  concluded  of  the  murder. 
The  reason  why  they  doom'd  him  unto  death 
Was  his  deep  wisdom  and  sound  policy. 

Knowing,  while  he  did  live,  my  state  was  firm,  235 

He  being  dead,  my  hope  must  die  with  him. 
Now,  Alexander,  wiU  we  be  reveng'd 
Upon  this  wicked  whore  of  Babylon, 
This  hideous  monster  with  the  seven-fold  head  ; 
We  must  with  cunning  level  at  the  heart,  240 

[Which]  pierc'd  and  perish'd  all  the  body  dies, 
Or  strike  we  ofi  her  heads  by  one  and  one ; 
Behooveth  us  to  use  dexterity. 
Lest  she  do  trample  us  imder  her  feet 
And  triumph  in  our  honour's  overthrow.  245 

Alex.    Mad  and  amaz'd  to  hear  this  tragic  doom 
I  do  subscribe  unto  your  sound  advice. 


Sc  2]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY         425 

Alp.    Then  hear  the  rest ;  these  seven  gave  but  the  sen- 
tence, 
A  nearer  hand  put  it  m  execution, 

And,  but  I  lov'd  Lorenzo  as  my  life,  350 

I  never  would  betray  my  dearest  wife. 

Alex.    What,  what  ?  The  Empress  accessary  too  ? 

Alp,    What  cannot  kindred  do  ?    Her  brother  Richard, 
Hoping  thereby  to  be  an  Emperor, 
Gave  her  a  dram  that  sent  him  to  his  grave.  255 

Alex,    O  my  poor  father,  wert  thou  such  an  e3re-soi>e 
That  nine  the  greatest  princes  of  the  earth    . 
Must  be  confederate  in  thy  tragedy  ? 
But  why  do  I  respect  their  mightiness. 

Who  did  not  once  respect  my  father's  life  ?  260 

Your  Majesty  may  take  it  as  you  please, 
I'll  be  reveng'd  upon  your  Emperess, 
On  English  Richard,  Saxon,  and  the  Palsgrave, 
On  Bohem,  Collen,  Mentz,  Trier,  and  Brandenburg. 
If  that  the  Pope  of  Rome  himself  were  one  265 

In  this  confederacy,  undauhted  I 
Amidst  the  college  of  his  cardinals 
Would  press  and  stab  him  in  St.  Peter's  chair, 
Though  clad  in  ail  his  pontificalibus. 

Alp,     Why,  Alexander,  dost  thou  speak  to  me  270 

As  if  thou  didst  mistrust  my  forwardness  ? 
No,  thou  shalt  know  my  love  to  him  was  such. 
And  in  my  heart  I  have  proscrib'd  them  iail 
That  had  to  do  in  this  conspiracy. 

The  bands  of  wedlock  shall  not  serve  her  turn,  275 

Her  fatal  lot  is  cast  among  the  rest ; 
And,  to  conclude,  my  soul  doth  Uve  in  hell 
Till  I  have  set  my  foot  upon  their  necks. 
That  gave  this  spur  of  sorrow  to  my  heart ; 
But  with  advice  it  must  be  managed,  .    280 

Not  with  a  headlong  rage  as  thou  intend'st ; 
Nor  in  a  moment  can  it  be  perform'd  ; 
This  work  requires  long  time,  dissembling  looks, 
Commix'd  with  undermining  actions. 

Watching  advantages  to  execute.  285 

Our  foes  are  mighty,  and  their  number  great ; 
It  therefore  follows  that  our  stratagems 
Must  branch  forth  into  manifold  deceits. 
Endless  devices^  bottomless  conclusions. 


426        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  II 

^  AUx.    What  by  your  Majesty  is  prescrib'd  to  me  zgo 

That  wiU  I  execute,  or  die  the  death. 

I  am  content  to  suck  my  sorrows  up, 

And  with  dull  patience  will  attend  the  time. 

Gaping  for  every  opportunity 

That  may  present  the  least  occasion,  295 

Although  each  minute  multiply  mine  anguish. 

And  to  my  view  present  a  'ttiousand  forms 

Of  senseless  bodies  in  my  father's  shape, 

Yelling  with  open  throat  for  just  revenge. 

Alp.    Content  thyself,  he  shall  not  cry  in  vain,  300 

I  have  already  plotted  Richard's  death. 

Alex.    That  hath  my  father's  sacred  ghost  inspir'd. 

0  tell  me,  shall  I  stab  him  suddenly  ? 
The  time  seems  long  till  I  be  set  a-work. 

Alp»    Thou  knowest,  in  gripping  at  our  lots  to-day,  305 

It  was  Prince  Richard's  lot  to  be  the  Boor, 
So  that  his  office  is  to  drive  the  cart 
And  bring  a  load  of  wood  into  the  kitchen. 

Alex.    O  excellent !   Your  Grace  being  Forester, 
As  in  the  thicket  he  doth  load  the  cart,  310 

May  shoot  him  dead,  as  if  he  were  a  deer. 

Alp,    No,  Alexander,  that  device  were  shallow. 
Thus  it  must  be :    there  are  two  very  boors 
Appointed  for  to  help  him  in  the  wood. 

These  must  be  brib'd,  or  cunningly  seduc'd,  315 

Instead  of  helping  him  to  murder  him. 

Alex.     Verbum  satis  sapienii  :   it  is  enough. 
Forttme  hath  made  me  Marshal  of  the  sports, 

1  hope  to  marshal  them  to  th'  devil's  feast. 

Hot  you  the  rest,  this  wiU  I  execute,  320 

Dutch  boors  [are]  towsandt  schehns  and  gold  [doth]  tempt 
them. 

Alp»     'Tis  right ;   about  it  then,  but  cunningly. 

Alex.     Else  let  me  lose  that  good  opinion 
Which  by  your  Highness  I  desire  to  hold. 
By  letters  which  I'll  strew  within  the  wood  325 

I'll  undermine  the  boors  to  murder  him, 
Nor  shall  they  know  who  set  them  so  a-work ; 
Like  a  familiar  will  I  fly  about 
And  nimbly  haunt  their  ghosts  in  every  nook. 

Exit  [Alexander]  Manet  Alphonsus 

Alp»    This  one  nail  helps  to  drive  the  other  out.  330 


Sc.  3]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        427 

I  slew  the  jbther  and  bewitch  the  son 

With  power  of  words  to  be  the  instrument  •   ^ 

To  rid  my  foes  with  danger  of  his  life. 

How  easily  can  subtle  age  entice 

Such  credulous  young  novices  to  their  death !  335 

Huge  wonders  will  Alphonsus  bring  to  pass 

By  the  mad  mind  of  this  enraged  boy ; 

Even  they  which  think  themselves  my  greatest  friends 

Shall  fall  by  this  deceit ;   ysa,  my  arch-enemies 

Shall  turn  to  be  my  chief  confederates.  34^ 

My  solitary  walks  may  breed  suspect; 

I'll  therefore  give  myself  to  company. 

As  I  intended  nothing  but  these  sports, 

Yet  hope  to  send  most  actors  in  this  pageant 

To  revel  it  with  Rhadamant  in  hell.  Exit  345 


[SCENE  in 

A  Wood  near  Frankfort] 

Enter  Richard  Earl  of  Cornwall,  like  a  clown 

Rick.    How  far  is  Richard  now  unlike  the  man 
That  cross'd  the  seas  to  win  an  empery  I 
But  as  I  plod  it  like  a  plumper  boor 
To  fetch  in  fuel  for  the  kitchen  fire, 

So  every  one  in  his  vocation  5 

Labours  to  make  the  pastimes  plausible ; 
My  nephew  Edward  jets  it  through  the  court 
With  princess  Hedewick,  Empress  of  his  fortune ; 
The  demi-Caesar,  in  his  hunter's  suit, 

Makes  all  the  court  to  ring  with  horns  and  hounds ;  10 

CoUen,  the  Cook,  bestirs  him  in  the  kitchen* 
But  that  which  joys  me  most  in  all  these  sports 
Is  Mentz,  to  see  how  he  is  made  an  ass. 
The  common  scorn  and  by-word  of  the  court ; 
And  every  one,  to  be  the  same  he  seems,  15 

Seems  to  forget  to  be  the  same  he  is. 
Yet  to  my  robes  I  cannot  suit  my  mind,  •*-:.!. 

Nor  with  my  habit  shake  dishonour  oS, 
The  seven  Electors  promis'd  me  the  Empire, 
The  perjur'd  Bishop  Mentz  did  swear  no  less,  20 

Yet  I  have  seen  it  shar'd  before  my  face. 


428       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  II 

While  my  best  friends  do  hide  their  heads  for  shame  ; 

I  bear  a  show  of  ontward  full  content. 

But  grief  thereof  hath  almost  kiU'd  my  hea|-t. 

Here  rest  thee,  Richard;  think  upon  a  mean  2$ 

To  end  thy  life,  or  to  repair  thine  honour, 

And  vow  never  to  see  fair  England's  bounds 

Till  thou  in  Aix  be  crowned  Emperor. 

Holla,  mfttihinlnt  there  cometh  company. 

The  boors,  I  trow,  ihat  come  to.  hew  the  wood»  30 

Which  I  must  carry  to  the  kitchen  fire ; 

I'll  lie  awhile  and  listen  to  their  talk.  [He  teHresi 

Enter  Hans  and  Jerick,  (wo  Dutch  boors 

Jef»  Komm  hier,  Hans,  war  bist  duf  Warum  bist  du 
so  traurich  t  Bis  frolick  !  Kannst  vel  gelt  verdienen,  wir  wUl 
ihn  bet  pots  tausend  tot  schlagen,  35 

Hans.    Lot  mich  die  briefs  sehen. 

Rich.    Methinks  they  talk  of  murdering  somebody  ; 
I'll  listen  more. 

Jer,     [Reads  the  letter]     *  Hans  und  Jerick,  meine  Hebe 
freunde,  ich  bitte,  lasset  es  bei  euch  bleiben  in  geheim,  und    40 
scMaget  den  Engelldnder  eu  tod,* 

Rich.  What's  that  ?  '  Hans  and  Jerick,  my  good  friend[s], 
I  pray  be  secret,  and  murder  the  Englishman.' 

/ar.    Hdr'  weiter  :  [reads]  *  denn  er  ist  hein  bauer  nicht, 
er  ist  ein  junker  und  hat  viel  geld  und  kleinodien  bei  sick.'       45 

Rich.  *  For  he  is  no  boor,  but  a  gentieman,  and  hath  store 
of  gold  and  jewels  by  him.' 

Jer.  Noch  weiter  :  [reads]  *  ihr  soUt  solche  gelegenheit  nicht 
versdumen,  und  wenn  ihr  gethan  habet,  will  ich  euch  sagen,  was 
ich  fiif  ein  guier  k&rl  bin,  der  euch  rath  gegeben  habe.'  50 

Rich.  *  SHp  not  this  opportunity,  and  when  you  have  done 
I  will  discover  who  gave  you  the  counsel.' 

Jer.     Wat  sagst  du,  wilt  du  es  thun  f 

Hans.  Wat  will  ich  nicht  fik  gelt  thun  /  sieh,  potg  tausend, 
dor  ist  er  I  [Discovering  Richard]     55 

Jer.  J  a,  bei  pots  tausend  sapperment,  er  isfs/  Holla, 
guten  morgen,  glOck  zu,  junker. 

Hans.    Junker  f    Der  dUvel,  he  is  ein  bauer. 

Rich.    Du  bist  ein  schelm,  weich  von  mir. 

Jer.    Holla,  holla,  bist  du  so  hoffdrtig  f      Junker  bamf^        60 
komnU  hier,  od$r  dieser  und  jener  soil  euch  holen* 


Sc.  3]  ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY    429 

Rich.  Ick  bin  ein  Ftirsi,  berUhrt  mich  nichtf  iht  schshns^  ihr 
v&ff&ther. 

Bdh.    Sla  tau,  sla  tau^  wir  wiU  you  fursUich  tracHeven  I 

Richard,  having  nothing  in  his  hand  but  his  whip, 
defends  himself  awhile  and  then  falls  down  as 
if  he  were  dead 
Rich,    O  Gottf  nim  meine  Seele  in  deine  Hdnde.  65 

Jer.  O  excellent,  hurtich  I  He  is  tot,  he  is  tot/  Lat  uns 
see  wot  he  hat  for  gelt  bei  sich.  [Plunders  the  body.]  Holla,  hier 
is  all  enough,  aU  salt ;  dor  is  for  dich,  und  dor  is  for  mich,  und 
dit  will  ich  dortau  haben, 

Jerick  puis  the  chain  about  his  nech. 
Hans.    How  so,  Hans  Nafrhaie,  gev  mir  die  hette  hier.        70 
Jer.     J  a,  ein  drech  ;  dit  hett  stehet  hupsch  um  mein  hols,  dit 
will  ich  tragen. 

Hans.    Dot  dich  Potz  Velten  leiden,  dot  soUu  nimmermehr 
thun,  du  schelm. 
Jer.     Wat,  sollt  du  mich  schelm  heiten  f  Nim  dot/  75 

[Strihes  him\ 
Hans.   .Dot  dich  hundert  tonnen  dapels  /  Harr,  ich  will  dich 
lemen/ 

Jer.     Wiltu  hauen  oder  stechen  f 
Hans.    Ich  will  redHch  hauen. 

Jer.    Nun  wohlan,  dor  ist  mein  rUch,  sla  taul  &> 

They  must  have  axes  made  for  the  nonce  to  fight 
withal,  and  while  one  strikes,  the  other  holds  his 
bach  without  defence. 
Hans.    Nim  du  dot.    [SttUies  him\     Und  dor  hast  mein 

rUch. 
Jer.    Noch  a  mal.    [Strikes  him,  Hans  falls]  0  excellent, 
ligst  du  dor!  Nun  will  ich  alles  haben, gelt  und  hett,  and  alles 
mit  einander.    O  hurHg,  frisch^,  lustig,  nun  bin  ich  ein 
hurtig  junker  1  85 

Richard  rises  up  again  and  snatcheth  up  the  fellow's 
hatchet  thai  was  slain 

Rich.    Ne  Hercules  [quidem]  contra  duos : 
Yet  policy  hath  gone  beyond  them  both. 
Du  hudler,  schelm,  morder,  kehre  dich,  siehstu  michf     Gebe 
mir  die  hett  und  gelt  wieder. 

Jer.     Wat,  bisiu  wieder  Ubendig  worden,  so  muss  ich  mich    90 
wehren  ;   wat  wiltu,  stechen  oder  hauen  f 

Rich.   So  will  ich  machen,  du  schelm.    [Stfiies  him  downl 


430        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  II 

Jet.  U^ls.]  Hofff  harr  t  Bisiu  ein  redlich  herl,  so  ficki 
redlich.     O  ich  sterb,  ich  sterb^  lat  mich  leben/ 

Rich.    Sagt  mir  dann,  wer  hat  die  brief e  gesckrieben  f  Lie    95 
nichi^  sondem  sagt  die  wahrheit, 

Jer,  O  mein  frammer,  guter,  edler,  gestrenger  junker ^  dor 
ist  das  gelt  und  kett  wieder,  you  soil  alles  haben,  aber  wer  haU 
die  brief e  gesckrieben,  dat  weit  ich  bei  tneiner  seele  nicht. 

Rich.    Ldeg  dor  stUly  still  ich  sag.  100 

The  villain  sweats  and  deeply  doth  protest 
He  knows  not  who  incited  them  to  this. 
And,  as  it  seems,  the  scroll  imports  no  less. 
So  stirb  du  mir,  schelm  I  [Kills  him] 

Jer.    O  ich  sterb,  awe^  awe,  awe  I  Dat  dich  der  dOvel  hole  i  105 

As  Richard  kills  the  Boor,  emter  Saxon  and  the 

Palsgrave 

Sax.    Pfui  dich  an,  loser  schelm,  hastu  dein  gesellen  tot 
geschlagen  f 

Pal.    Lasst  uns  den  schelmen  angreifen. 

Rich.    Call  you  me  schelm  ?    How  dare  you  then. 
Being  princes,  offer  to  lay  hands  on  me  ?  no 

That  is  the  hangman's-  office  here  in  Dutchland. 

Sax.    But  this  is  strange,  our  boors  can  speak  no  English  ; 
What  bistu  more  than  a  damn'd  murderer  ? 
That  thou  art  so  much  we  are  witnesses. 

Rich.    Can  then  this  habit  alter  me  so  much  T15 

That  I  am  call'd  a  villain  by  my  friends  ? 
Or  shall  I  dare  once  to  suspect  your  Graces, 
That  for  you  could  not  make  me  Emperor, 
Pitying  my  sorrow  through  mine  honour  lost» 
You  set  these  slaves  to  rid  me  of  my  life  ?  120 

Yet  far  be  such  a  thought  from  Richard's  heart. 

Pal.     How  now  ?    What,  do  I  hear  Prince  Richard  speak  ? 

Rich.    The  same  ;   but  wonder  that  he  lives  to  speak. 
And  had  not  policy  help'd  above  strength 
These  sturdy  swains  had  rid  me  of  my  life.  125 

Sax.    Far  be  it  from  your  Grace  for  to  suspect  us. 

Rich.    Alas  I   I  know  not  whom  I  should  suspect ; 
But  yet  my  heart  cannot  misdoubt  your  Graces. 

Sax.    How  came  your  Highness  into  this  apparel  ? 

Rich.    We,  as  the  manner  is,  drew  lots  for  offices,  130 

My  hap  was  hardest,  to  be  made  a  carter  ; 
And  by  this  letter  which  some  viUain  wrote 


Sc.  3]     ALPONHSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        431 

I  was  betrayed  here  to  be  murdered ; 

But  Heav'n,  which  doth  defend  the  innocent, 

Arm'd  me  with  strength  and  policy  together,  135 

That  I  escap'd  out  of  their  treacherous  snare. 

Pal.    Were  it  well  sounded,  I  dare  lay  my  life 
The  Spanish  tyxant  knew  of  this  conspiracy ; 
Therefore  the  better  to  dive  into  the  depth 
Of  this  most  devilish  murderous  complo^  140 

As  also  secretly  to  be  beholders 
Of  the  long-wish'd-for  wedding  of  your  daughter, 
We  will  disrobe  these  boors  of  their  apparel* 
Clapping  their  rustic  cases  on  our  backs, 
And  help  your  Highness  for  to.  drive  the  cart.  145 

'T  may  be  the  traitor  that  did  write  these  lines> 
MistaJdng  us  for  them,  will  show  himself. 

Rich.    Prince  Palatine,  this  plot  doth  please  me  well ; 
I  make  no  doubt,  if  we  deal  cunningly. 
But  we  shall  find  the  writer  of  this  scroll.  150 

Sax.    And  in  that  hope  I  will  disrobe  this  slave  ; 
Come,  Princes,  in  the  neighbouring  thicket  here 
We  may  disguise  ourselves  and  talk  at  pleasure  ; 
Fie  on  him,  heavy  lubber,  how  he  weighs. 

[Dragging  in  Jerick] 

Rich,    The  sin  of  murder  hangs  upon  his  soul,  155 

It  is  no  marvel,  then,  if  he  be  heavy. 

Ex&unt  [dragging  in  Hans] 

ACT  in 

[SCENE    I 
A .  Room  in  the  Cour^ 

Enter  to  the  Revels  Edward  with  an  Imperial  Crown  ;  Hedewick, 
the  Empress  ;  Bohemia,  the  taster  ;  Alphonsus,  the  forester  ; 
Mentz,  the  jester  ;  Empress,  the  chambermaid  ;  Brandenburg, 
the  physician  ;  Trier,  the  secretary  ;  Alexander,  the  marshal, 
with  his  marshaPs  Staff;  and  all  the  rest  in  their  proper 
apparel f  and  Attendants  and  Pages 

Alex,  Princes  and  princes'  superiors,  lords  and  lords'  fel- 
lowsy  gentlemen  and  gentlemen's  masters,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  states  here  assembled,  as  well  masculine  as  feminine,  be  it 
known  onto  you  by  these^presents,  that  I,  Alexander  de  Toledo^ 
Fortune's  chief  Marshal,  do  will  and  command  you«  by  the      5 


432       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  III 

anthority  of  my  said  office,  to  take  your  places  in  "v^^^f^r 
and  form  following :  first,  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress,  tfaien 
the  Taster,  the  Secretary,  the  Forester,  the  Physician ;  as 
for  the  Chambermaid  and  m3rself  we  will  take  our  places  at 
the  nether  end  ;  the  Jester  is  to  wait  up  and  live  by  the  lo 
crumbs  that  fall  from  the  Emperor's  trencher.  But  now  I 
have  marshalled  you  to  the  tsLble,  what  remains  ? 

Men,    Every  fool  can  tell  that;   when  men  are  set  to 
dinner  they  commonly  expect  meat. 

Ed.    That's  the  best  jest  the  Fool  made  since  he  came  into     1 5 
his  office.    Marshal,  walk  into  the  kitchen  and  see  how  the 
Churfurst  of  Collen  bestirs  himself.       Exitufus  Alexander 

M&n.    Shall  I  go  with  him  too  ?    I  love  to  be  employed 
in  the  kitchen. 

Ed.    I  prithee  go,  that  we  may  be  rid  of  thy  wicked  Jests.    20 

Men.    Have  with  thee,  Marshal ;  the  Fool  rides  thee. 

Exit  on  Alexander's  hack 

Alp.    Now  by  mine  honour,  my  lord  of  Mentz  plays  the 
fool  the  worst  that  I  ever  saw. 

Ed.    He  does  all  by  conixaries,  iar  I  am  sure  he  played 
the  wise  man  like  a  fool,  and  now  he  plays  the  fool  wisely.        as 

Alp.    Princes  and  Churfursts,  let  us  frolic  now ;    . 
This  is  a  joyful  day  to  Christendom, 
When  Christian  princes  join  in  amity. 
Schinck  bowls  of  RheiQpfal[z]  and  the  purest  wine  ; 
We'll  spend  this  evening  lusty  upsy  Dutch  30 

In  honour  of  this  unexpected  league. 

Emp.    Nay,  gentle  Forester,  there  you  range  amiss ! 
His  looks  are  fitly  suited  to  his  thoughts. 
His  glorious  Empress  makes  his  heart  triumph. 
And  heart's  triumphing  makes  his  countenance  staid  35 

In  contemplation  of  his  life's  delight. 

Ed,    Good  aunt,  let  me  excuse  myself  in  this ; 
I  am  an  Emperor  but  for  a  day. 
She  Empress  of  my  heart  while  life  doth  k^st ; 
Then  give  me  leave  to  use  imperial  looks —  40 

Nay,  if  I  be  an  Emperor  I'll  take  leave — 
And  here  I  do  pronounce  it  openly. 
What  I  have  lately  whisper'd  ia  her  ears, 
I  love  mine  Empress  more  than  empery, 
I  love  her  looks  above  my  fortune's  hope.  45 

Alp.    Saving  your  looks,  dread  Emperor,  €S  giU  a  bowl 
Unto  the  health  of  your  fair  bride  and  Empress. 


Sc.  I]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        433 

Ed,    Sam  GoU^  $s  soil  mir  $in  Hebe  trunk  sein  /    So  much 
Dutch  have  I  learned  since  I  came  into  Germany. 

Bran,    When  yon  have  drunk  a  dozen  of  these  bowls,  50 

So  can  your  majesty  with  a  full  mouth 
TroU  out  high  Dutch  ;  till  then  it  sounds  not  right. 
Drauff  es  gilt  nock  eins,  Ihr  Majestdt, 

Edw,     Sam  Gott^  lass  laufen. 

Boh,    My  Lord  of  Brandenburg,  spoken  like  a  good  Dutch 
brother,  55 

But  most  unlike  a  good  physician ; 
You  should  consider  what  he  has  to  do, 
His  bride  will  give  you  little  thanks  to-night. 

Alp,    Ha,  ha,  my  lord,  now  give  me  leave  to  laugh ; 
He  need  not  therefore  shun  one  beaker  full.  60 

In  Saxon  land  you  know  it  is  the  use. 
That  the  first  night  the  bridegroom  spares  the  bride. 

Boh,     'Tis  true,  indeed  ;  that  had  I  quite  forgotten. 

Ed,    How  understand  I  that  ? 

Alp,  That  the  first  night 

The  bride  and  bridegroom  never  sleep  together.  65 

Ed.    That  may  well  be,  perchance  they  wake  together. 

Boh,    Nay,  without  fallace,  they  have  several  beds. 

Ed,    Ay,  in  one  chamber,  that's  most  princely. 

Alp,    Not  only  several  beds,  but  several  chambers, 
Lock'd  soundly  too  with  iron  bolts  and  bars.  70 

Emp,    Believe  me,  nephew,  that's  the  custom  here. 

Ed,    O,  my  good  aunt,  the  world  is  now  grown  new  ; 
Old  customs  are  but  superstitions. 
I'm  sure  this  day,  this  presence  all  can  witness, 
The  high  and  mighty  I^ince  th'  Archbishop  of  CoUen,  75 

Who  now  ia  busy  in  the  scullery, 
Join'd  us  together  in  St.  Peter's  church. 
And  he  that  would  disjoin  us  two  to-night, 
'Twixt  jest  and  earnest  be  it  proudly  spoken. 
Shall  eat  a  piece  of  ill-digesting  iron.  80 

Bride,  unit  du  dis  nacht  bet  me  schlapen  ? 

Hed,    Da  behOU  mich  Gott  far ;  ich  hoffe  Eure  Majestdt 
will's  von  mir  nicht  begehren, 

Ed,    What  says  she  ?    BehOie  mich  GoU  fOr  ? 

Alp,    She  says  God  bless  her  from  such  a  deed.  85 

Ed*    Tush,  Empress,  clap  thy  hands  upon  thy  head. 
And  God  wiU  bless  thee ;  I  have  a  Jacob's  staff  , 
Shall  take  the  elevation  of  the  pole; 

C.D.W.  F  F 


434      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  III 

For  I  have  heard  it  said«  the  Dutch  north-star 

Is  a  degree  or  two  higher  than  ours.  90 

Boh,    Nay,  though  we  talk,  let's  drink,  and.  Emperor, 
I'll  tell  you  plainly  what  3rou  must  trust  unto  ; 
Can  they  deceive  you  of  your  bride  to-night. 
They'll  surely  do't,  therefore  look  to  yourself. 

Ed»    If  she  deceive  me  not,  let  all  do  their  worst.  95 

Alp,    Assure  you,  Emperor,  she'll  do  her  best. 

Ed,    1  think  the  maids  in  Germany  are  mad  ; 
Ere  they  be  married  they  will  not  kiss, 
And,  being  married,  will  not  go  to  bed. 

We'll  drink  about,  let* s  talk  no  more  of  this  ;  100 

Well-wam'd  half-arm'd,  our  English  proverb  say[s]. 

Enter  Alexander 

Alp.  Holla,  Marshal,  what  says  the  Cook  ? 
Belike  he  thinks  we  have  fed  so  well  already. 
That  we  disdain  his  simple  cookery. 

Alex.    'Faith,  the  Cook  says  so,  that  his  office  was  to  dress  105 
a  mess  of  meat  with  that  wood  which  the  English  I^ince 
should  bring  in,  but  he  hath  neither  seen  Dutch  wood  nor 
EngUsh  Prince,  therefore  he  desires  you  hold  him  excused. 

Alp.    I  wonder  where  Prince  Richard  stays  so  long. 

Alex.    An't  please  your  Majesty,  he's  come  at  length,  1 10 

And  with  him  has  he  brought  a  crew  of  boors 
A[nd]  hupsch  boor-maikins,  fresh  as  flowers  in  May, 
With  whom  they  mean  to  dance  a  Saxon  round. 
In  honour  of  the  bridegroom  and  his  bride. 

Ed.    So  has  he  made  amends  for  his  long  tarrying  ;         115 
I  prithee  marshal  them  into  the  presence. 

Alp,   [aside  to  Alexander.]    Lives  Richard,   then  ?    I'd 
thought  thou'dst  made  him  sure. 

Alex.    O,  I  could  tear  my  flesh  to  think  upon't  I 
He  lives,  and  secretly  hath  brought  with  him 
The  Palsgrave  and  the  Duke  of  Saxony,  120 

Clad  Uke  two  boors,  ev'n  in  the  same  apparel 
That  Hans  and  Jerick  wore  when  they  went  out 
To  murder  him. 
It  now  behoves  us  to  be  circumspect. 

Alp.    It  likes  me  not.     Away,  Marshal,  bring  them  !  125 

Exit  Alexander 
I  long  to  see  this  sport's  conclusion. 

Boh.    Is't  not  a  lovely  sight  to  see  this  couple 


Sc.  I]  ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY   435 

Sit  swvefly  billing,  like  two  turtle-doves  ? 

Alp.    I  promise  you,  it  sets  my  teeth  an  edge. 
That  I  must  take  mine  Empress  in  mine  arms.  130 

Come  hither,  Isabel,  though  thy  robes  be  homely. 
Thy  face  and  countenance  holds  colour  stilL 

Entsf  Alexander,  CoUen,  Mentz,  Richard,  Saxon,  Palsgrave, 
CoUenrooA,  with  a  gammon  of  raw  bacon,  and  links  or 
puddings  in  a  platter  ;  Richard,  Palsgrave,  Saxon,  Mentz, 
like  clownSf  with  each  of  them  a  mitre,  with  corances  on 
their  heads. 

Col.    Dread  Emperor  and  Emperess,  for  to-day, 
I,  your  appointed  Cook  until  to-morrow. 
Have  by  the  Marshal  sent  my  just  excuse,  135 

And  hope  your  Highness  is  therewith  content. 
Our  Carter  here,  for  whom  I  now  do  speak. 
Says  that  his  axle-tree  broke  by  the  way ; 
That  is  his  answer,  and,  for  you  shall  not  famish. 
He  and  his  fellow  boors  of  the  next  dorp,  140 

Have  brought  a  schinke[n]  of  good  raw  bacon. 
And  that's  a  common  meat  with  us,  unsod. 
Desiring  you,  you  would  not  scorn  the  fare ; 
'Twill  make  a  cup  of  wine  taste  nippitate. 
Ed.    Welcome,  good  fellows,  we  thank  you  for  your  present  145 
Rich.    So  spiel  fresh  up,  and  let  us  rommer  dantMen. 
Alex.    Please  it  yoya  Highness  to  dance  with  your  bride  ? 
Ed.    Alas  I  I  cannot  dance  your  German  dances. 
Boh.    I  do  beseech  your  Highness  mock  us  not ; 
We  Germans  have  no  changes  in  our  dances,  150 

An  Almain  and  an  npspring,  that  is  aU. 
So  dance  the  princes,  burghers,  and  the  boors. 
Bran.    So  danc'd  our  ancestors  for  thousand  years. 
Ed.    It  is  a  sign  the  Dutch  are  not  new-fangled. 
I'U  follow  in  the  measure  ;  Marshal,  lead  \  155 

Alexander  and  Mentz  have  the  foredance,  with 
each  of  them  a  glass  of  wine  in  their  hands  ; 
then  Edward  and  Hedewick,  Palsgrave  and 
Empress,  and  two  other  couple,  after  drum 
and  trumpet.  The  Palsgrave  whispers  with 
the  Empress 
Alp.  I  think  the  boor  is  amorous  of  my  Empress ; 
Fort,  bauer,  and  Idffel  morgen,  when  thou  com'st  to  house. 


436      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  IH 

C<a.     {To  Prince  Edward].    Now  is  yonr  Grace's  time  to 
steal  away ; 
Look  to't,  or  dse  you'll  lie  alone  to-night. 

Edward  steals  away  the  Bride    i6o 
Alex,  {drinketh  to  the  Palsgrave)    'S  gilt,  bourn. 
Pal.    Sam  Gott  / 

The  Palsgrave  requests  the  Empress. 
Ey  fungfraUf  help  mich  doch  /     Ey  pmgfrau^  trinh  /     [To 
Alphonsus]    Es  giU^  guier  freund^  ein  frohlichtn  trunh. 
Alp.    Sam  Gottf  mein  freundt  ich  wHl  gem  bescheid  th$m. 
Alphonsus  takes  the  cup  of  the  Pal3gEave  and 
drinks  to  the  King  of  Bohemia,  and  after  he 
htUh  drunk  puis  poison  into  H^e  beaker 
Half  this  I  drink  unto  your  Highness'  health ;  165 

It  is  the  first  since  we  were  join'd  in  office. 
Boh.    I  ihank  your  Majesty,  I'll  pledge  you  half. 

As  Bohemia  is  a-drinktng,  ere  he  hath  drunk  it 
all  out,  Alphonsus  pulls  the  beaker  from  his 
mouth 
Alp.    Hold,  hold,  yova  Majesty,  drink  not  too  much. 
Boh.    What  means  3rour  Highness  ? 

Alp,    Methinks  that  something  grates  between  my  teeth,  170 
Pray  God  there  be  not  poison  in  the  bowl  I 
Boh.    Marry,  Grod  forbid  1 

Alesf.  So  were  I  pepper'd. 

Alp.     I  highly  do  mistrust  this  schelmish  boor ; 
Lay  hands  on  him,  I'll  make  him  drink  the  rest. 
[Pal.}     Was  ist,  was  ist,  wat  will  you  mit  me  machen  t      175 
Alp.    Drink  out,  drink  out,  oder  der  diivel  soil  dith  holen. 
Pal.    Ey  gebt  you  to  frieden,  ich  will  gem  trinken. 
Sax.    Drink  not.  Prince  Palatine,  throw  it  on  the  ground  ; 
It  is  not  good  to  trust  his  Spanish  flies. 

[Tke  Palsgrave  spills  the  wine] 
Boh.    Saxon  and  Palsgrave  I    This  cannot  be  good.  180 

Alp.    'Twas  not  for  nought  my  mind  misgave  me  so  ; 
This  hath  Prince  Richard  done  t'  entrap  our  hves. 
Ric.    No,  Alphonsus,  I  disdain  to  be  a  traitor. 

[They  draw} 
Emp.    O,  sheathe  your  swords,  forbear  these  needless 

broils. 
Alp.    Away,  I  do  mistrust  thee  as  the  rest.  185 

Boh.    Lords,  hear  me  speak  to  pacify  these  broils,  t 
For.  my  part  I  feel  no  distemperature. 


Sc.  I]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        437 

How  do  you  fed  youxsdf  ? 

Alp,  I  cannot  tell. 

Not  ill,  and  y^  metMnks  I  am  not  well. 

Boh,    Were  it  a  poison,  'twould  begin  to  work.  190 

Alp,    Not  so,  all  poisons  do  not  work  alike. 

Pal,    If  there  were  poison  in,  which  God  forbid. 
The  Empress  and  myself  and  Alexander 
Have  cause  to  fear  as  well  as  any  other. 

Alp,    Why  didst  thou  throw  tlus  wine  upon  the  earth  ?    195 
Hadst  thou  but  drunk,  thou  hadst  satisfied  our  minds. 

Pal,    I  will  not  be  enforc'd  by  Spanish  hands. 

Alp,    If  all  be  well  with  us,  that  scuse  shall  serve  $ 
If  not,  the  Spaniard's  blood  will  be  reveng'd. 

Rich,    Your  Majesty  is  more  afraid  liiaa  hurt.  aoo 

Boh,    For  me,  I  do  not  fear  myself  a  whit ; 
Let  all  be  friends,  and  forward  with  our  mirth. 

Enter  Edward,  in  his  night-gown  and  his  shirt 

Rich,    Nephew,  how  now  ?    Is  all  well  with  you  ? 

Boh,    I  lay  my  life  Hie  Prince  has  lost  his  bride. 

Ed,    I  hope  not  so»  she  is  but  stray'd  a  little.  205 

Alp,  .  Your  Grace  must  not  be  angry,  though  we  laugh. 

Ed,    If  it  had  happen'd  by  default  of  mine. 
You  oodght  have  worthily  laugh'd  me  to  scorn: 
But  to  be  so  deceived,  so  over-r^ich'd, 

Even  as  I  meant  to  clasp  her  in  mine  arms,  210 

The  grief  is  intolerable,  not  to  be  guess' d. 
Or  comprehended  by  the  th6ught  of  any. 
But  by  a  man  that  hath  been  so  deceived, 
And  that's  by  no  man  living  but  myself. 

Sax,    My  princely  son-in-law,  God  give  you  joy.  215 

Ed,    Of  what,  my  princely  father  ? 

Sax,  C  my  daughter. 

Your  new-betrothed  wi&  and  bedfellow. 

Ed,    1  thank  3rou,  father ;  indeed,  I  must  conies 
She  is  my  wife,  but  not  my  bedfellow. 

Sax.    How  so,  3roung  prince?    I  saw  3rou  steal  her  faencot  220 
And,  as  me  thought,  she  went  full  willingly. 

Ed.    'Tis  true,  I  stole  her  finely  from  amongst  yoii» 
And,  by  the  Archbishop  of  CoUen's  help,. 
Got  her  alone  into  ihe  bride^chamber, 

Where  having  lock'd  the  doon  tfaoiightall  was  well.  205 

I  could  not  speak,  but  pointed  to  €he  bed ; 


438       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  III 

She  answer'd  Ja  and  gan  for  to  unlace  her ; 

I,  seeing  that,  suspected  no  deceit. 

But  straight  untruss'd  my  points,  uncas'd  m3rself. 

And  in  a  moment  slipp'd  between  the  sheets:  230 

There  lying  in  deep  contemplation. 

The  Princess  of  herdelf  drew  near  to  me. 

Gave  me  her  hand,  spake  prettily  in  Dutch, 

I  know  not  what,  and  kiss'd  me  lovingly. 

And,  as  I  shrank  out  of  my  lukewarm  place  235 

To  make  her  room,  she  clapp'd  thrice  with  her  feet. 

And  through  a  trap-door  sunk  out  of  my  sight. 

Knew  I  but  her  confederates  in  the  deed — 

I  say  no  more. 

Emp,  Tush,  cousin,  be  content ; 

So  many  lands,  so  many  fashions ;  240 

It  is  the  German  use,  be  not  impatient. 
She  will  be  so  much  welcomer  to-morrow. 

Rich,    Come,  nephew,  we'll  be  bedfellows  to-night. 

Ed,    Nay,  if  I  find  her  not,  I'll  he  alone ; 
I  have  good  hope  to  ferret  out  her  bed,  245 

And  so  good-night,  sweet  Princes,  all  at  once. 

Alp.    Good-night  to  all ;  Marshal,  discharge  the  train* 

AUx.    To  bed,  to  bed,  ^  Marshal  cries  'tis  time. 

Flourish  of  comets,    ExeuiU 
[Alexander  conceals  himself  behind  the  arras] 

Manent  Saxon,  Richard,  Palsgrave,  CoUen,  Empress 

Sax.    Now,  Princes,  it  is  time  that  we  advise ; 
Now  we  are  all  fast  in  the  fowler's  gin,  250 

Not  to  escape  his  subtle  snares  alive. 
Unless  by  force  we  break  the  nets  asunder. 
When  he  begins  to  cavil  and  pick  quarrels, 
I  wiU  not  trust  him  in  the  least  degree. 

Emp.     It  may  beseem  me  evil  to  mistrust  255 

My  lord  and  Emperor  of  so  foul  a  fact ; 
But  love  unto  his  honour  and  your  hves 
Makes  me  with  tears  entreat  your  Excellencies 
To  fly  with  speed  out  of  his  dangerous  reach. 
His  cloudy  brow  foretells  a  sudden  storm  260 

Of  blood,  not  natural,  but  prodigious. 

Rich.    The  castle-gates  are  shut,  how  should  we  fly  ? 
But  were  they  open  I  would  lose  my  life. 
Ere  I  would  leave  my  nqphew  to  the  slaughter  % 


Sc.  I]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        439 

He  and  his  bride  were  sure  to  bear  the  brunt.  265 

Sax.    Could  I  get  out  of  doors  I'd  venture  that, 
And  3ret  I  hold  their  persons  dear  enough. 
I  would  not  doubt  but  ere  the  morning  sun 
Should  half-way  run  his  course  into  the  south. 
To  compass  and  begirt  him  in  his  fort,  270 

With  Saxon  lansknights  and  brunt-bearing  Switzeis, 
Who  lie  in  ambuscado  not  &r  hence. 
That  he  should  come  to  composition. 
And  with  safe  conduct  bring  into  our  tents 
Both  bride  and  bridegroom  and  all  other  friends.  275 

Emp,    My  chamber-window  stands  upon  the  wall. 
And  thence  with  ease  you  may  escape  away. 

Sax.    Prince  Richard,  3rou  will  bear  me  company  ? 

Rich.     I  will,  my  lord. 

Sax.  And  you.  Prince  Palatine  ? 

Pal.    The  Spanish  t3rrant  hath  me  in  suspect  280 

Of  poisoning  him,  I'll  therefore  stay  it  out ; 
To  fly  upon  't  were  to  accuse  m3^self. 

Emp.    If  need  require,  I'll  hide  the  Palatine 
UntQ  to-morrow,  if  3rou  stay  no  longer. 

Sax.    If  God  be  with  us,  ere  to-morrow  noon  285 

We'll  be  with  ensigns  spread  before  the  walls ; 
We  leave  dear  pledges  of  our  quick  return. 

Emp.    May  the  heavens  prosper  your  just  intents  I 

Exeunt 

[Alex,  coming  forward.]    This  dangerous  plot  was  happily 
overheard. 
Here  didst  thou  listen  in  a  blessed  hour.  290 

■ 

Enter  Alphonsus 

[Alp.]    Alexander,  where  dost  thou  hide  thyself  ? 
I've  sought  thee  in  each  comer  of  the  court,  ' 

And  now  or  never  must  thou  play  the  man. 

Alex.    And  now  or  never  must  your  Highness  stir ; 
Treason  hath  round  encompassed  3rour  life.  295 

Alp.    I  have  no  leisure  now  to  hear  thy  talk: 
Seest  thou  this  key  ? 

Alex.  Intends  your  Majesty 

That  I  should  steal  into  the  Princes'  chambers, 
And  sleeping  stab  them  in  their  beds  to-night  ? 
That  cannot  be. 

Alp.  Wilt  thou  not  hear  me  speak  ?  300 


440      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  III 

Alex.    The  Prince  of  England,  Saxon,  and  of  CoUen, 
Are  in  the  Empress'  chamber  privily. 

Alp»    All  this  is  nothing,  they  would  murder  me, 
I  come  not  there  to-night ;  seest  thou  this  key  ? 

Alex.    They  mean  to  fly  out  at  the  chamber-mndow,      305 
And  raise  an  army  to  besiege  your  Grace ; 
Now  may  your  Highness  take  them  with  the  deed. 

Alp.    The  Prince  of  Wales,  I  hope,  is  none  of  them. 

Alex.    Him  and  his  bride  by  force  they  will  recover. 

Alp.    What  makes  the  cursed  Palsgrave  of  the  Rhein  ?    310 

Alex.    Him  hath  the  Empress  taken  to  her  charge 
And  in  her  closet  means  to  hide  him  safe. 

Alp.    To  hide  him  in  her  closet  ?    Of  bold  deeds 
The  dearest  charge  that  e'er  she  undertook. 
Well,  let  them  bring  their  complots  to  an  end,  315 

I'll  undermine  to  meet  them  in  their  works. 

Alex.    WiU  not  3rour  Grace  surprise  them  ere  they  fly  ? 

Alp.    No,  let  them  bring  their  purpose  to  eflect, 
I'll  fall  upon  them  at  my  best  advantage. 
Seest  thou  this  key  ?    There,  take  it,  Alexander,  320 

Yet  take  it  not,  unless  thou  be  resolv'd — 
Tush,  I  am  fond  to  make  a  doubt  of  thee  1 
Take  it,  I  say,  it  doth  command  all  doors, 
And  will  make  open  way  to  dire  revenge. 

Alex,    I  know  not  what  your  Majesty  doth  mean.  325 

Alp.    Hie  thee  with  speed  into  the  inner  chamber 
Next  to  the  chapel,  and  there  shalt  thou  And 
The  dainty  trembling  bride  couch'd  in  her  bed, 
Having  beguil'd  her  bridegroom  of  his  hopes. 
Taking  her  feurewell  of  virginity,  330 

Which  she  to-morrow  night  expects  to  lose. 
By  night  all  cats  are  grey,  and  in  tiie  dark 
She  will  embrace  thee  for  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
Thinking  that  he  hath  found  her  chamber  out; 
Fall  to  thy  business  and  make  few  words,  335 

And  having  pleas'd  tiiy  senses  with  delight. 
And  flll'd  thy  beating  veins  with  stealing  joy. 
Make  thence  again  before  the  break  of  day. 
What  stiange  events  will  follow  this  device 
We  need  not  study  on;  our  foes  shall  find.  340 

How  now, — how  stand'st  thou  ? — ^hast  thou  not  the  heart  ? 

Alex.    Should  I  not  have  the  heart  to  do  this  deed, 
I  were  a  bastard  villain,  and  no  man ; 


Sc.  r]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        441 

Her  sweetness  and  the  sweetness  of  revenge 

Tickles  my  senses  in  a  double  sense,  345 

And  so  I  wish  your  Majesty  good  night. 

Alp.    Goodnight.    Sweet  Venus  prosper  thy  attempt  I 

Alex,    Sweet  Venus  and  grim  Ate  I  implore, 
Stand  both  of  you  to  me  auspicious.  Exit  Alexander' 

Alp,    It  had  been  pity  of  his  father's  hie,  350 

Whose  death  hath  made  him  such  a  perfect  villain. 
What  murder,  wrack,  and  causeless  enmity 
'Twixt  dearest  friends,  that  are  my  strongest  foes. 
Will  foUow  suddenly  upon  this  rape 

I  hope  to  live  to  see  and  lang^  thereat.  355 

And  yet  this  piece  of  practice  is  not  all ; 
The  King  of  Bohem,  though  he  little  feel  it. 
Because  in  twenty  hours  it  wiU  not  work. 
Hath  from  my  knife's  point  sucked  his  deadly  bane. 
Whereof  I  will  be  least  of  all  suspected,  360 

For  I  will  feign  myself  as  sick  as  he. 
And  blind  mine  enemies'  tye^  with  deadly  groans. 
Upon  the  Palsgrave  and  mine  Emperess     . 
Heavy  suspect  shall  light  to  bruise  their  bones ; 
Though  Saxon  would  not  sujBEer  him  to  taste  365 

The  deadly  potion  provided  for  him, 
He  cannot  save  him  from  the  sword  of  justice, 
When  all  the  world  shall  think  that  like  a  villain 
He  hath  poison'd  two  great  Emperors  with  one  draught. 
That  deed  is  done,  and  by  this  time  I  hope  370 

The  other  is  a-doing ;  Alexander, 
I  doubt  it  not,  will  do  it  thoroughly. 
While  these  things  are  a-brewing  I'll  not  sleep. 
But  suddenly  break  ope  the  dhamber-doors 
And  rush  upon  my  Empress  and  the  I^Jsgrave.  375 

Holla  1  Where's  the  captain  of  the  guard  ? 

EnUr  Captain  and  Soldiers 

Cap,     What  would  your  Majesty  ? 

Alp.    Take  six  tra;yants  well  arm'd  and  follow« 

They  break  with  violence  into  the  chamber,  and 
Alphoasus  trails  the  Empress  by  the. hair 

Enter  Alphonsus,  Empress,  Soldiers,  etc. 

Alp.    Come  forth,  thou  damned  witch,  adulterous  whore  ! 
Foul  scandal  to  thy  name,  thy  sex,  thy  blood  I  380 


442      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  III 

Emp,    O  Emperor,  gentle  husband,  pity  me  I 

Alp,    Canst  1±ioa  deny  thou  wert  confederate 
With  my  arch-enemies  that  sought  my  blood  ? 
And  like  a  strumpet,  through  thy  chamber-window. 
Hast  with  thine  own  hands  help'd  to  let  them  down,  385 

With  an  intent  that  they  should  gather  arms. 
Besiege  my  court,  and  take  away  my  life  ? 

Emp.    Ah,  my  Alphonsus  I 

Alp,  Thy  Alphonsus,  whore  ! 

Emp,    O  pierce  my  heart,  trail  me  not  by  my  hair ; 
What  I  have  done,  I  did  it  for  the  best.  390 

Alp,    So  for  the  best  advantage  of  thy  lust 
Hast  thou  in  secret,  Q3rtemne8tra-like, 
Hid  thy  ^gisthus,  thy  adulterous  love. 

Emp.    Heav'n  be  the  record  'twixt  my  lord  and  me. 
How  pure  and  sacred  I  do  hold  thy  bed.  395 

Alp,    Art  thou  so  impudent  to  belie  the  deed  ? 
Is  not  the  Palsgrave  hidden  in  thy  chamber  ? 

Emp,    That  I  have  hid  the  P^grave  I  confess. 
But  to  no  ill  intent,  your  conscience  knows. 

APp,    Thy  treasons,  murdeis,  incests,  sorceries,  400 

Are  all  committed  to  a  good  intent ; 
Thou  know'st  he  was  my  deadly  enemy. 

Emp,    By  this  device  I  hop'd  to  make  3^u  Mends. 

Alp,    Then  bring  him  forth,  we'U  reconcile  ourselves. 

Emp,    Should  I  betray  so  great  a  prince's  life  ?  405 

Alp,    Thou  hold'st  his  life  far  dearer  than  thy  lord's. 
This  very  night  hast  thou  betray'd  my  blood. 
But  thus,  and  thus,  will  I  revenge  myself. 

ITrailing  her  by  the  hair\ 
And  but  thou  speedily  deliver  him, 

I'll  trail  thee  through  the  kennels  of  the  street,  410 

And  cut  the  nose  from  thy  bewitching  face. 
And  into  England  send  thee  like  a  strumpet. 

Emp,    Pull  every  hair  from  ofi  my  head. 
Drag  me  at  horses'  tails,  cut  oQ  my  nose. 
My  princely  tongue  shall  not  betray  a  prince.  415 

Alp,    That  will  I  try  {Sinkes  hef\. 

Emp.  O  Heav'n,  revenge  my  shame ! 

Enter  Palsgrave 
Pal.    Is  Caesar  now  become  a  torturer,  , .       •  :,i 


Sc.  I]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        443 

A  hangman  of  his  wife,  tum'd  murderer  ? 
Here  is  the  Palatine,  what  woiddst  thou  more  ? 

Alp,    Upon  him,  soldiers,  strike  him  to  the  ground  !        420 
I   Emp.    Ah,  soldiers,  spare  the  princely  Palatine  ! 

Alp.    Down  with  the  damn'd  adulterous  murderer  1 
Kill  him,  I  say  ;   his  blood  be  on  my  head. 

They  kUl  the  Palatine 
Run  to  the  tow'r  and  ring  the  larum  bell, 
That  fore  the  world  I  may  excuse  m3rself,  425 

And  tell  the  reason  of  this  bloody  deed. 

Enter  Edward  in  his  nighl-goxan  and  shirt 

Ed,    How  now  ?  What  means  this  sudden,  strange  alarm  ? 
What  wretched  dame  is  this  with  blubber'd  cheeks, 
And  rent,  dishevelled  hair  ? 

Emp,  O  my  dear  nephew^ 

Fly,  fly  the  shambles,  for  thy  turn  is  next.  430 

Ed,    What,  my  imperial  aunt  ?  Then  break  my  heart  I 

Alp,    Brave  I^rince«  be  still ;   as  I  am  nobly  bom. 
There  is  no  ill  intended  to  thy  person. 

Enter  Mentz,  Trier,  Brandenburg,  Bohemia 

Men,    Where   is   my  page  ?    Bring  me   my  two-hand 
sword  I 

Tri*    What  is  the  matter  ?    Is  the  Court  a-flre  ?  435 

Bran,    Who's  that  ?     The   Emperor   with  his   weapon 
drawn  ? 

Boh.    Though  deadly  sick,  yet  am  I  forc'd  to  rise. 
To  know  the  reason  of  this  hurly-burly. 

Alp.    Princes  be  silent ;   I  will  tell  the  cause, 
Though  suddenly  a  griping  at  my  heart  440 

Forbids  my  tongue  his  wonted  course  of  speech. 
See  you  this  harlot  traitress  to  my  hfe. 
See  you  this  murderer,  stain  to  mine  honour  ? 
These  twain  I  found  together  in  my  bed, 
Shamefully  committing  lewd  adultery,  445 

And  heinously  conspiring  all  your  deaths, 
I  mean  your  deaths  that  are  not  dead  already ; 
As  for  the  King  of  Bohem  and  myself. 
We  are  not  of  this  world,  we  have  our  transports 
Giv'n  in  the  bowl  by  this  adulterous  Prince ;  .450 

And  lest  the  poison  work  too  strong  with  me. 
Before  that  I  have  wam'd  you  of  your  harms. 


444       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  IV 

I  will  be  brief  in  the  relation. 

That  he  hath  stain'd  my  bed,  these  eyes  have  Seen ; 

That  he  hath  murder'd  two  imperial  kings,  455 

Our  Speedy  deaths  will  be  too  sudden  proof ; 

That  he  and  she  have  bought  and  sold  your  lives 

To  Saxon,  Collen,  and  the  English  Prince, 

Their  ensigns,  spread  before  the  walls  to-morrow, 

Will  all  too  suddenly  bid  you  defiance.  460 

Now  tell  me,  Princes,  have  I  not  just  cause 

To  slay  the  murderer  of  so  many  souls  ? 

And  have  not  aQ  cause  to  applaud  the  deed  ? 

More  would  I  utter,  but  the  poison's  force 

Forbids  my  speech  ;   you  can  conceive  the  rest.  465 

Boh.    Your  Majesty,  reach  me  your  dying  hand 
With  thousand  thanks  for  this  so  just  revenge  ! 
O,  how  the  poison's  force  begins  to  work  1 

Men.    The  world-  may  pity  and  applaud  the  deed. 

Bran,    I>id  never  age  bring  forth  such  heinous  acts.         470 

Ed,    My  senses  are  Confounded  and  amaz'd. 

Emp,    The  God  of  Heav'n  knows  my  linguiltiness. 

Enter  Messenger 

Mes,    Arm,  arm,  my  lords,  we  have  descried  afar 
An  army  of  ten  thousand  men-at-arms. 

Alp.    Some  run  unto  the  walls,  some  draw  up  the  sluice,  475 
Some 'Speedily  let  the  portcullis  down. 

Men.    Now  may  we  see  the  Emperor's  words  are  true ; 
To  prison  with  the  wicked  murderous  whore.  Exeunt 

ACT  IV 

[SCENE  I 

Before  the  Walls] 
Enter  Saxon  and  Richard  with  Soldiers 

Sax.    My  Lord  of  Cornwall,  let  us  march  before 
To  speedy  rescue  of  our  dearest  friends ; 
The  rearward  with  the  'armed  legions. 
Committed  to  the  Prince  of  CoUen's  charge, 
Cannot  so  lightly  pass  the  mountain  tops.  5 

Rich,    Lef  s  summon  suddenly  unto  a  parley ; 
I  do  not  doubt  but  et^  we  need  their  helps, 
Collen  with  all  his  forces  wiU  be  here. 


Sc.  1}    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        445 

£11^  Collen  with  Drums  and  an  Army 

Your  Holiness  hath  made  good  baste  to-day. 

And  like  a  beaten  soldier  lead  yonr  troops.  10 

Col.    In  time  of  peace  I  am  an  Arcbbisbop, 
And,  like  a  chnrcbman,  can  both  sing  and  say ; 
But  when  the  innocent  do  snffer  wrong, 
I  cast  my  rochet  off  upon  the  altar, 
And,  like  a  prince,  betake  myself  to  arms.  15 

Enter  above  Mentz,  Trier,  and  Brandenburg 

Men.    Great  Prince  of  Saxony,  what  mean  these  arma  ? 
Richard  of  Cornwall,  what  may  this  intend  ? 
Brother  of  CoUen,  no  more  churchman  now  ? 
Instead  of  mitre  and  a  crozier  stafi 

Have  3rou  beta'en  you  to  your  helm  and  targe  ?  20 

Were  you  so  merry  yesterday  as  friends, 
Qoaking  your  treason  in  your  clown's  attire  ? 

Sax.    Mentz,  we  return  the  traitor  in  thy  face. 
To  save  oar  lives,  and  to  release  our  friends 
Out  of  the  Spaniard's  deadly  trapping  snares,  .  25 

Without  intent  of  ill,  this  power  is  rais'd, 
Therefore,  grave  Prince,  Marquess  of  Brandenburg, 
My  loving  cousin,  as  indifferent  judge. 
To  you,  an  aged  peace-maker,  we  speak ; 
Deliver  with  sale-conduct  in  our  tents  30 

Prince  Edward  and  his  bride,  the  Palatine, 
With  every  one  of  high  or  low  degree 
That  are  suspicions  of  tiie  King  of  Spain, 
So  shall  you  see,  that  in  the  self-same  hour 
We  marched  to  the  walls  with  colours  spread,  35 

We  will  cashier  our  troops,  and  part  good  friends. 

Bran.    Alas,  my  lord,  crave  you  the  Palatine  ? 

Rich.    If  craving  will  not  serve,  we  will  commaaid. 

Bran.    Ah  me,  since  your  departure,  good  my  lords. 
Strange  accidents  of  blood  and  death  are  happened*  '  40 

Sax.     My  mind  misgave  a  massacre  this  night. 

Rich.    How  does  Prince  Edward  then  ? 

Sax.  How  does  my  daughter  ? 

Col.    How  goes  it  with  the  Palsgrave  of.  the  Rhein  ? 

Bran.    Prince  Edward  and  his  bride  do  live  in  health. 
And  shall  be  brought  unto  you  when  you  please.  4$ 

Sax,    Let  them  be  presently  dellver'd. 

Col.    Lives  not  the  Palsgrave  too  ? 


446       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  IV 

Men,  In  heaven  or  hell 

He  lives,  and  reaps  the  merit  of  his  deeds. 

CoL    What  damned  hand  hath  butchered  the  Prince  ? 

Sax.    O  that  demand  is  needless  ;   who  but  he  50 

That  seeks  to  be  the  butcher  of  us  all  ? 
But  vengeance  and  revenge  shall  light  on  him. 

Bran,    Be  patient,  noble  Princes,  hear  the  rest. 
The  two  great  Kings  of  Bohem  and  Castile — 
God  comfort  them — ^lie  now  at  point  of  death,  55 

Both  poison'd  by  the  Palsgrave  j^esterday. 

Rich,    How  is  that  possible  ?    So  must  my  sister. 
The  Palatine  himself,  and  Alexander, 
Who  drunk  out  of  the  bowl,  be  poisoned  too. 

Men.    Nor  is  that  heinous  deed  alone  the  cause,  60 

Though  cause  enough  to  ruin  monarchies ; 
He  hath  defil'd  with  lust  th'  imperial  bed. 
And  by  the  Emperor  in  the  fact  was  slain. 

Col,    O  worthy,  guiltless  Prince !    O,  had  he  fled  I 

Rich,    But  say,  where  is  the  Empress,  where's  my  sister  ?      65 

Men,    Not  burnt  to  ashes  yet,  but  shall  be  shortly. 

Rich,    I  hope  her  Majesty  will  live  to  see 
A  hundred  thousand  flattering  turn-coat  slaves. 
Such  as  your  Holiness,  die  a  shameful  death. 

Bran,    She  is  in  prison,  and  attends  her  trial.  70 

Sax,    O  stiange,  heart-breaking,  mischievous  intents  I 
Give  me  my  children,  if  you  love  yom:  lives  ! 
No  safety  is  in  this  enchanted  fort. 
O  see,  in  happy  hour,  there  comes  my  daughter 
And  loving  son,  scap'd  from  the  massacre.  75 

Enter  [below]  Edward  and  Hedewick 

Ed,    My  body  lives,  although  my  heart  be  slain. 
O  Princes,  this  hath  been  the  dismall'st  night 
That  ever  eye  of  sorrow  did  behold  !  ' : 

Here  lay  the  Palsgrave,  welt'ring  in  his  blood, 
D3dng  Alphonsus  standing  over  him  ;  80 

Upon  the  other  hand  the  King  of  Bohem, 
Still  looking  when  his  poison'd  bulk  would  break ; 
But  that  which  pierc'd  my  soul  with  nature's  touch» 
Was  my  tormented  aunt,  with  blubber'd  cheeks. 
Torn,  bloody  garments,  and  dishevell'd  hair,  85 

Waiting  for  death — deservedly  or  no. 


Sc.  I]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        447 

That  knows  the  Searcher  of  all  human  thoughts. 
For  these  devices  are  beyond  my  reach. 

Sax.    Sag  dochf  Hebe  tochter^  wo  worst  du  dieselbe  nachi  f 

Hed.    A  Is  wo,  wo  soUV  ich  sein?  Ich  war  im  bette.  90 

Sax.     Warst  du  aUein,  so  warsi  du  gar  verschrochen, 

Hed.  Ich  hob  nichi  anders  gemeint,  denn  dass  ich  wollf  allein 
geschlafen  haben,  aber  um  mittemachi  kam  mein  bridegroom 
und  schlafet  bei  mir,  bis  wir  mit  dem  getUmmel  erwacht  waren. 

Ed.    What  says  she  ?  Came  her  bridegroom  to  her  at  mid-    95 
ni^t  ? 

Rich.    Nephew,  I  see  you  were  not  overreach'd ; 
Although  she  sHpp'd  out  of  your  arms  at  first, 
You  seiz'd  her  surely,  ere  you  left  the  chase. 

Sax.    But  left  your  Grace  your  bride  alone  in  bed  ? 
Or  did  she  nm  together  in  the  larum  ?  100 

Ed.    Alas,  my  lords,  this  is  no  time  to  jest  1 
I  lay  full  sadly  in  my  bed  alone. 
Not  able  for  my  life  to  sleep  a  wink. 
Till  that  the  larum-bell  began  to  ring. 
And  then  I  started  from  my  weary  couch.  X05 

Sax.    How  now  ?    This  rhymes  not  with  my  daughter's 
speech ; 
She  says  you  found  her  bed,  and  lay  with  her. 

Ed.    Not  I,  3rour  Highness  did  mistake  her  words. 

Col.    Deny  it  not.  Prince  Edward  ;   'tis  an  honour. 

Ed.    My  lords,  I  know  no  reason  to  deny  it ;  no 

T'  have  found  her  bed,  I  would  have  given  a  million. 

Sax.    Hedewick,  der  Fikrst  sagt,  er  hat  nicht  bei  dir  geschlafen. 

Hed.    Es  gefdllt  ihm  also  zu  sagen,  aber  ich  hob  es  wohl  gefMlet* 

Rich.    She  says,  you  are  disposed  to  jest  with  her. 
But  yesternight  she  felt  it  in  good  earnest.  X15 

Ed.  Uncle,  these  jests  are  too  unsavoury. 
Ill-suited  to  these  times,  and  please  me  not. 
Hab  ich  bei  you  geschlapen  yesternight  P 

Hed.    Ei,  lief,  warum  sollt  ihr's  fragen  ? 

Sax.    Edward,  I  tell  thee,  'tis  no  jesting  matter,  120 

Say  plainly,  wast  thou  by  her,  ay  or  no  ? 

Ed.    As  I  am  Prince,  true  heir  to  England's  crown, 
I  never  touch'd  her  body  in  a  bed. 

Hed.    Das  hastu  gethan,  oder  hole  mich  der  dikuel. 

Rich.    Nephew,  take  heed,  you  hear  the  Princess'  words.  125 

Ed.    It  is  not  she,  nor  you,  nor  all  the  world. 
Shall  make  me  say  I  did  another's  deed. 


448        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  IV 

Sax*    Another's  deed  ?  What,  think'st  thou  her  a  whore  ? 

Saxon  strikes  Edward 

Ed.    She  may  be  whore»  and  thou  a  villain  too ; 
Struck  me  the  Emperor,  I  will  strike  again.  130 

Col.    Content  you.  Princes  ;   bufitet  not  like  bo3ns. 

Rich.    Hold  you  the  one,  and  I  will  hold  the  other. 

Hed.    OHerr  Goti,  help,  help  /    Oich  armes  kind  I 

Sax.    Soldiers,  lay  hands  upon  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
Convey  him  speedily  into  a  prison,  135 

And  load  his  legs  with  grievous  bolts  of  iron  ; 
Some  bring:  the  whore  my  daughter  from  my  sight. 
And  thou,  smooth  Engli^man,  to  thee  I  speak, 

\Jo  Richi(rd] 
My  hate  extends  to  all  ihy  nation. 

Pack  thee  out  of  my  sight,  and  that  with  speed*  140 

Your  English  practices  have  all  too  long 
Muffled  our  German  e3res — pack,  pack,  I  say  I 

Rich.    Although  your  Grace  have  reason  for  your  rage. 
Yet  be  not  like  a  madman  to. your  friends. 

Sax.    My  friends  ?    I  scorn  the  friendship  of  such  mates  145 
That  seek  my  daughter's  spoil,  and  my  dishonour ; 
But  I  will  teach  the  boy  another  lesson. 
His  head  shall  pay  the  ransom  of  his  fault. 

Rich.    His  head  ? 

Sax.    And  thy  head  too  1    O,  how  my  heart  doth  swell !  150 
Was  there  no :  other  prince  to  mock  but  me  ? 
First  woo,  thisn  marry  her,  Hien  lie  with  her. 
And;  having  had  the  pleasure  of  her  bed. 
Call  her  a  whore  in  open  audience ! 

None  but. a  Villain  and  a  slave  would  do  it.  155 

My  lords  of  Mentz,  of  Trier,  and  Brandenburg, 
Make  ope  the  gates,  receive  me  as  a  friend, 
I'll  be  a  scourge  unto  the  English  nation. 

Men.    Your  Grace  shall  be  the  welcom'st  guest  ahve. 

Col.    None  but  a  madman  would  do  such  a  deed.  160 

Sax.    Then,  Collen,  count  me  mad,  f ot  I  will  do  it ; 
I'll  set  my  life  and  land  upon  the  hazard. 
But  I  will  thoroughly  sound  this  deceit. 
What,  will  your  Grace  leave  me  or  follow  me  ? 

Col.    No,  Saxon,  know  I  will  not  follow  thee,  165 

Aivl. leave  Prince  Richard  in  so  great  extremes. 

Sax.    Then  I  defy  you  both,  and  so  farewelL 

Rich.    Yet,  Saxon,  hear  me  speak  before  thou  go : 


Sc.  I]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        449 

Look  to  the  Prince's  lile  as  to  thine  own ; 

Each  perish'd  hair  that  falleth  from  his  head  170 

By  thy  default  shall  cost  a  Saxon  city ; 

Henry  of  England  will  not  lose  his  heir  ; 

And  so  farewell  and  think  upon  my  words. 

Sax,    Away,  I  do  disdain  to  answer  thee ! 
Pack  thee  with  shame  again  into  thy  country;  175 

I'll  have  a  cock-boat  at  my  proper  charge. 
And  send  th'  imperial  crown  which  thou  hast  won 
To  England  by  Prince  Edward  after  thee. 

Exettnt  [Saxon  and  the  others] 

Manent  Rkshard  €md  Collen 

CoL    Answer  liim  not.  Prince  Richard  ;   he  is  mad  ; 
Choler  and  grief  have  robb'd  him  of  his  senses.  180 

Like  accident  to.  this  was  never  heard. 

Rich.    Break,  heart,  and  die  ;  fly  hence,  my  troubled  spirit ; 
I  am  not  able  for  to  unde^bear 
The  weight  of  sorrow  which  doth  bruise  my  soul. 
P  Edward,  O  swe^t  Edward,  O  my  life  I  185 

6  noble  Collen,  last  of  all  my  hopes. 
The  only  friend  in  my  extcemities,  ^ 

If  thou  dost  love  me^as  I  k;nQw  thou  dost. 
Unsheathe  thy  sword  and  rid  me  of  this  sorrow. 

Col,    Away  with  abject  thoughts  !    Fie,  princely  Richard  ;  19Q 
Rouse  up  th3^self,  and  call  thy  senses  home  ; 
Shake  off  this  base  pusillanimity, 
And  cast  ^.bout  to  remedy  these  wrongs. 

Rich.    Alas,  I  see  no  inean^  pf  remedy! 

Col,    Then  hearken  to  my  counsel  and  advice.  195 

We  will  intrench  ourselves  not  far  from  hence. 
With  those  smajl  pow'rs  we  have,  and  send  for  more. 
If  they  do  make  assault,  we  will  defend  ; 
If  violence  be  offer'd  to  the  Prince, 

We'U  rescue  him  with  venture  of  our  lives ;  200 

Let  us  with  patience  attend  advantage, 
Time  may  reveal  the  author,  of  these  treasons. 
For  why,  undoubtedly  the  sweet  young  Princess, 
Foully  beguil'd  by  night  with  cunning  :show,  .    . 

Hath  to  some  villain  lost  her  maidenhead.  ;  205 

Ric.    O,  that  I  knew  the  foul  incestuous  wretch  1  ^* 

Thus  would  I  tear  him  with  my  teeth  and  ludJa.   •  hA 

Had  ..Saxon  sense,  he  would  conceive  so  much, 

C.D.W.  G  G 


450       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  IV 

And  not  revenge  on  guiltless  Edward's  Hie. 

*    CoL    Persuade  yourself,  he  will  be  twice  advis'd,  210 

Before  he  offer  wrong  unto  the  Prince. 

Rich.    In  that  good  hope  I  will  have  patiance. 
Come»  gentle  Prince,  whose  pity  to  a  stranger 
Is  rare  and  admirable,  not  to  be  spoken ; 
England  cannot  requite  this  gentleness.  215 

Col.    Tush,  talk  not  of  requital,  let  us  go 
To  fortify  ourselves  witiiin  our  trench.  Exnmt 

[SCENE  II 

A  Roam  in  ike  Couv(\ 

Enter  Alphonsus,  carried  in  the  Couch  ;  Saxo^,  Mentz,  Trier, 

Brandenburg,  Alexander 

Alp.    O  most  excessive  pain,  O  raging  fire ! 
Is  burning  Cancer,  or  the  Scorpion, 
Descended  from  the  heavenly  zodiac. 
To  parch  mine  entraUs  with  a  quenchless  flame  ? 
Drink,  drink,  I  say,  give  drink,  or  I  shaU  diel  5 

Fill  a  thousand  bowls  of  wine  !    Water,  I  say. 
Water  from  forth  the  cold  Tartarian  hills  t 
I  feel  th'  ascending  flame  lick  up  my  blood ; 
Mine  entrails  shrink  together  like  a  scroll 
Of  burning  parchment,  and  my  marrow  fries.  10 

Bring  hugy  cakes  of  ice  and  flakes  of  snow. 
That  I  may  drink  of  them  being  dissolved. 

Sax.    We  do  beseech  your  Blajesty,  have  patience. 

Alp.    Had  I  but  drunk  an  ordinary  poison. 
The  sight  of  thee,  great  Duke  of  Saxony,  15 

My  friend  in  death,  in  life  my  greatest  foe. 
Might  both  allay  the  venom  and  the  torment; 
But  that  adulterous  Palsgrave  and  my  wife. 
Upon  whose  life  and  soul  I  vengeance  cry. 
Gave  me  a  mineral  not  to  be  digested,  .  20 

Which  burning,  eats,  and  eating,  bums  my  heart. 
My  Lord  of  Trier,  run  to  the  King  of  Bohem, 
Commend  me  to  him,  ask' him  how  he  fares; 
None  but  myself  can  rightly  pity  him, 

For  none  but  we  have  sympathy  of  pains.  25 

Tell  him  when  he  is  dead,  my  time's  not  long. 
And  when  I  die,  bid  him  prepare  to  follow. 

Exit  Trier 


Sc.  2]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        451 

Now,  now  it  works  airesh ;   are  you  my  friends  ? 

Then  throw  me  on  the  cold,  swift-running  Rhein 

And  let  me  bathe  there  for  an  hour  or  two,  30 

I  cannot  bear, this  pain. 

Men,    O,  would  th'  unpartial  Fates  afflict  on  me 
These  deadly  pains,  and  ease  my  Emperor, 
How  willing  would  I  bear  them  for  his  sake. 

Alp,    O  Mentz,  I  would  not  wish  unto  a  dog  35 

The  least  of  thousand  torments  that  afflict  me. 
Much  less  unto  3rour  princely  Holiness.- 
See,  see,  my  Lord  of  Mentz,  he  points  at  you. 

Men,    It  is  your  fantasy,  and  nothing  else  ; 
But  were  Death  here,  I  would  dispute  with  him,  40 

And  tell  him  to  his  teeth  he  doth  injustice. 
To  take  your  Majesty  in  the  prime  of  youth  ; 
Such  wither'd,  rotten  branches  as  myself 
Should  first  be  lopp'd,  had  he  not  partial  hands ; 
And  here  I  do  pro^t  upon  my  knee  45 

I  would  as  willingly  now  leave  my  life. 
To  save  my  King  and  Emperor  alive. 
As  erst  my  mother  brought  me  to  the  world. 

Bran,    My  Lord  of  Mentz,  this  flattery  is  too  gross ; 
A  prince  of  your  experience  and  calling  50 

Should  not  so  fondly  call  the  heavens  to  witness. 

Men.    Think  you,  my  lord,  I  would  not  hold  my  word  ? 

Bran,    You  know,  my  lord,  Death  is  a  bitter  guest. 

Men,    To  ease  his  pain  and  save  my  Emperor, 
I  sweetly  would  embrace  that  bitterness.  55 

Alex,  [aside'\  If  I  were  Death,  I  knew  what  I  would  do. 

Men,    But  see,  his  Majesty  is  fall'n  asleep  ; 
Ah  me  !     I  fear  it  is  a  dying  slumber. 

Alp,  \waking\.  My  Lord  of  Saxony,  do  you  hear  this  jest? 

Scus.    What  shoiQd  I  hear,  my  lord  ?  60 

Alp,  Do  you  not  hear. 

How  loudly  Death  proclaims  it  in  mine  ears. 
Swearing  by  trophies,  tombs,  and  dead  men's  graves. 
If  I  have  any  friend  so  dear  to  me 
That  to  excuse  my  life  wiU  lose  his  own, 
I  shall  be  presen^y  restored  to  health.  65 

Enter  Trier 

Men,    I  would  he  durst  make  good  his  promises. 
Alp.    My  Lord  of  Trier,  how  fares  my  fellow  Emperor  ? 


I 


452       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  IV 

Trt.    His  Majesty  is  eas'd  of  all  his  pains. 

Alp,    O  happy  news  !  Now  have  I  hope  of  health. 

Men.    My  joyiul  heart  doth  spring  within  my  body  70 

iTo  hear  these  words ; 
Comfort  your  Majesty,  I  wiU  excuse  you. 
Or,  at  the  least,  will  bear  you  company. 

Alp,    yty  hope  is  vain  ,■  now,  now  my  heart  will  break  ! 
My  Lord  of  Trier,  you  did  but  flatter  me ;  75 

Tell  me  the  truth,  how  fares  his  Majesty  ? 

Tfi.     I  told  your  Highness,  eas'd  of  all  his  pain. 

Alp,     I  understand  thee  now ;    he's  eas'd  by  death. 
And  now  I  feel  an  alteration. 

Farewell,  sweet  lords ;  farewell,  my  Lord  of  Mentz,  80 

The  truest  friend  that  ever  earth  did  bear. 
Live  long  in  happiness  to  revenge  my  death 
Upon  my  wife  and  all  the  English  brood. 
My  Lord  of  Saxony,  your  Grace  hath  cause — 

Men,    I  dare  thee.  Death,  to  take  away  my  life.  85 

Some  charitable  hand  that  loves  his  Prince 
And  hath  the  heart. 
Draw  forth  his  sword  and  rid  me  of  my  life. 

A  Ux,     \dfaw%n^'\      I  love  my  Prince,  and  have  the  heart  to 
do  it. 

Men.    O,  stay  awhile  I 

Al$x,  Nay,  now  .it  is  too  late.  90 

[Stabs  him\ 

Bran.   Villain,  what  hast  thou  done  ?  Th'ast  slain  a  prince  I 

Alex,    I  did  no  more  than  he  entreated  me. 
'  Alp.  [rising  as  if  restored  to  life]    How  now,  what  make 

I  in  my  couch  so  late  ? 
Princes,  why  stand  you  so  gazing  about  me  ? 
Or  who  is  that  lies  slain  before  my  face  ?  95 

O,  I  have  wrong,  my  soul  was  half  in  heaven  ; 
His  Holiness  did  know  the  jo}^  above. 
And  therefore  is  ascended  in  my  stead. 
Come,  Princes,  let  us  bear  the  body  hence ; 
I'll  spend  a  million  to  embalm  the  same.  loo 

Let  all  the  bells  within  the  Empire  ring. 
Let  mass  be  said  in  every  church  and  chapel. 
And  that  I  may  perform  my  latest  vow, 
I  will  procure  so  much  by  gold  or  friends. 
That  my  sweet  Mentz  shall  be  canonized  105 

And  number'd  in  the  bead-roll  of  the  saints. 


Sc.  2]      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY       453 

I  hope  the  Pope  will  not  deny  it  me ; 

I'll  build  a  church  in  honour  of  thy  name 

Within  the  ancient,  famous  city  Mentz, 

Fairer  than  any  one  in  Germany.  .  no 

There  shalt  thou  be  interred  with  kingly  pomp. 

Over  thy  tomb  shall  hang  a  sacred  lamp, 

Which  tOl  the  day  of  doom  shall  ever  bum ; 

Yea,  after-ages  shall  speak  of  thy  renown,  .  . 

And  go  a-pilgrimage  to  thy  sacred  tomb.  -HIS 

Grief  stops  my  voice ;    who  loves  his  Emperor, 

Lay  to  his  helping  hand  and  bear  him  hence. 

Sweet  father  and  redeemer  of  my  life. 

Exeunt  [bearing  off  MenU] 

Manet  Alexander 

Alex.    Now  is  my  lord  sole  Emperor  of  Rome, 

And  three  conspirators  of  my  father's  death  .  120 

Are  cunningly  sent  unto  heaven  or  hell ; 

Like  subtlety  to  this  was  never  seen. 

Alas,  poor  Mentz !    I,  pitying  thy  prayers, 

Could  do  no  less  than  lend  a  helping  hand  ; 

Thou  wert  a  famous  flatterer  in  thy  life,  125 

And  now  hast  reap'd  the  fruits  thereof  in  death. 

But  thou  shalt  be  rewarded,  like  a  saint, 

V^th  masses,  bells,  dirges,  and  burning  lamps ; 

'Tis  good,  I  envy  not  thy  happiness  : 

But,  ah  1    the  sweet  remembrance  of  that  night,  130 

That  night,  I  mean,  of  sweetness  and  of  stealth. 

When,  for  a  Prince,  a  Princess  did  embrace  me. 

Paying  the  first  fruits  of  her  marriage-bed, 

MaJces  me  forget  all  other  accidents. 

O  Saxon,  I  would  willingly  forgive  135 

The  deadly  trespass  of  my  father's  death. 

So  I  might  have  thy  daughter  to  my  wife  ; 

And,  to  be  plain,  I  have  best  right  unto  her. 

And  love  her  best  and  have  deserv'd  her  best. 

But  thou  art  fond  to  think  on  such  a  match,  140 

Thou  must  imagine  nothing  but  revenge ; 

And  if  my  computation  fail  me  not, 

£re  long  I  shall  be  thoroughly  reveng'd.  E:^i 


454       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  IV 

[SCENE   III 

Tha  Courtyard  of  ike  Palace] 
Enter  the  Duke  of  Saxon,  and  Hedewick  with  the  Child 

Sax.    Come  forth,  thou  perfect  map  of  misery. 
Desolate  daughter  and  distressed  mother, 
In  whom  the  father  and  the  son  are  curs'd. 
Thus  once  again  we  will  assay  the  Prince. 
'T  may  be  the  sight  of  his  own  flesh  and  Uood  5 

Will  now  at  last  pierce  his  obdurate  heart. 
Jailor,  how  fares  it  with  thy  prisoner  ? 
Let  him  appear  upon  the  battlements. 

Hed,   O  mein  dear  voter ^  ich  habe  in  dis  lang,  lang  [viereig] 
weeken^  welche  mich  dunket  sein   vierzig   jaht   gewesen^   ein     10 
latt  Englisch  gelemet,  und  ich  hope,  he  will  me  verstahn,  and 
show  me  a  liUte  pity. 

Enter  Edward  on  the  walls,  and  Jailor 

Sax.    Good  morrow  to  your  Grace,  Edward    of    Wales, 
Son  and  immediate  heir  to  Henry  the  Third, 
King  of  England  and  Lord  of  Ireland,  15 

Thy  father's  comfort  and  the  people's  hope. 
'Tis  not  in  mockage,  nor  at  unawares, 
That  I  am  ceremonious  to  repeat 
Thy  high  descent,  join'd  with  thy  kin^y  might. 
But  therewithal  to  intimate  unto  thee  20 

What  God  expecteth  from  the  higher  powers. 
Justice  and  mercy,  truth,  sobriety. 
Relenting  hearts,  hands  innocent  of  blood. 
Princes  are  God's  chief  substitutes  on  earth. 
And  should  be  lamps  unto  the  conmion  sort.  25 

BVit,  3rou  wiU  say,  I  am  become  a  preacher ; 
No,  Prince,  I  am  an  humble  suppliant. 
And  to  prepare  thine  ears  make  this  exordium. 
To  pierce  thine  eyes  and  heart,  behold  this  spectacle : 
Three  generations  of  the  Saxon  blood,  [Kneeling]     50 

Descended  lineaUy  from  forth  my  loins, 
Kneeling  and  crying  to  thy  mightiness. 
First  look  on  me,  and  think  what  I  have  been, — 
For  now  I  think  myself  of  no  account — 
Next  Caesar  greatest  man  in  Germany,  35 

Nearly  allied  and  ever  friend  to  England. 


Sc.  3]  ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY   455 

Bat  woman's  sighs  move  more  in  manly  hearts ; 

0»  see  the  hands  she  elevates  to  heaven. 

Behold  ihose  eyes  that  whilom  were  thy  joys, 

Uttering  dumb  eloquence  in  crystal  tears.  40 

If  these  exclaims  and  sights  be  ordinary. 

Then  look  .with  pity  on  thy  other  sell : 

This  is  thy  flesh  and  blood,  bone  of  thy  bone, 

A  goodly  boy,  the  image  of  his  sire. 

Tum'st  thou  away  ?    O,  were  thy  father  here,  45 

He  would,  as  I  do,  take  him  in  his  arms, 

And  sweetly  kiss  bis  grandchild  in  the  face. 

O  Edward,  too  young  in  experience, 

That  canst  not  look  into  the  grievous  wrack 

Ensuing  this  thy  obstinate  denial ;  50 

O,  Edward,  too  young  in  experience. 

That  canst  not  see  into  the  future  good 

Ensuing  thy  most  just  acknowledgment ; 

Hear  me,  thy  truest  friend,  I  will  repeat  ihem : 

For  good  thou  hast  an  heir  indubitate,  55 

Whose  eyes  already  sparkle  majesty, 

Bom  in  true  wedlock  of  a  princely  mother. 

And  all  the  German  princes  to  thy  friends ; 

Where,  on  the  contrary,  thine  eyes  shall  see 

The  speedy  tragedy  of  thee  and  thine.  60 

Like  Athamas  first  will  I  seize  upon 

Thy  young  unchristen'd  and  despised  son 

And  with  his  guiltless  brains  bepaint  the  stones ; 

Then,  like  Virginius,  will  I  kill  my  child. 

Unto  thine  eyes  a  pleasing  spectacle ;  65 

Yet  shall  it  be  a  momentary  pleasure  ; 

Henry  of  England  shall  mourn  with  me, 

Fot  thou  thyself,  Edward,  shalt  make  the  third. 

And  be  an  actor  in  this  blqody  scene 

Hed.  Ach  nmn  sAsae  Edua/rt^  nrnn  her  skin,  mmn  scherxkint  70 
mein  hernges,  Hniges  hersy  mein  alUrlievest  husband,  I  preedee, 
nrnn  lief,  see  me  freindlich  an  ;  good  s*eetheart,  tell  de  trut : 
and  at  least  to  me  and  dein  dUerlievest  child  show  pity  I  denn  ich 
bin  dein,  und  du  bist  mein,  du  hast  me  geven  ein  kindelein  ; 
O  Eduart,  sAsse  Eduart,  erbarmet  sein/  75 

Ed.     O  Hedewicky  peace  1  Thy  speeches  pierce  my  soul. 

Hed.    Hedewich  f  do  yowr  excellency  hight  me  Hedewieh  f 
Lieve  Eduart,  you  weit  ich  bin  your  dUetlieveste  wife. 

Ed.    The  priest»  I  must  confess,  made  thee  my  wife  ; 


456        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  TV 

Curs'd  be  the  damned  villainous  adulterer,  80 

That  with  so  foul  a  blot  divoro'd  our  love. 

Hed.  O  tnein  alUrlievestar,  highbom  Furst  und  Herr,  dink, 
dai  unser  Herr  GoU  sits  in  Himmelstron$,  Mtd  sees  dot  heart, 
und  will  my  cause  wohl  rdchen. 

Sax.     Edward,  hold  me  not  up  v^ith.  long  delaySg  B5 

But  quickly  say,  wilt  thou  confess  the  truth  ? 

Ed.    As  true  as  I  am  bom  of  kingly  lineage, 
And  am  the  best  Flantagenet  next  my  falser, 
I  never  carnally  did  touch  her  body.' 

Sax.    Edward,  this  answer  had  we  long  ago;  90 

See'st  thou  this  brat  ?     [Seuting  the  ^ild.]    Speak  quickly, 
or  he  dies. 

Ed.    His  death  will  be  more  piercing  to  thine  eyes 
Than  unto  mine  ;   he  is  not  of  my  kin. 

Hed.     O  Father,  O  mein   Vater,  spare  mein  Kindt    O 
Eduart,  O  Prince  Eduart,  speah  now  Oder  nimntermehr  /  de       95 
Kind  ist  mein,  it  soil  nicht  sterben  / 

Sax.    Have  I  dishonoured  myself  so  much, 
To  bow  my  knee  to  thee,  which  never  bow'd 
But  to  my  God,  and  ain  I  thus  rewarded  ? 
Is  he  not  thine  ?    Speak,  murderous-minded  Prince  I  100 

Ed.    O  Saxon,  Saxon,  mitigate  thy  rage. 
First  thy  exceeding  great  humility. 
When  to  thy  captive  prisoner  thou  didst  kneel. 
Had  almost  made  my  lying  tongue  confess 
The  deed,  which  I  protest  I  never  did ;  T05 

But  thy  not  causeless,  furious,  madding  humotir, 
Together  with  thy  daughter's  piteous  cries^ 
Whom  as  my  life  and  soul  I  dbarly  love. 
Had  thoroughly  almost  peisuaded  me 

To  save  her  honour  and  bdie  m3^self ;  no 

And  were  I  not  a  prince  of  so  2:dgfa  blood. 
And  bastards  have  no  sceptre-bearing  hands, 
I  would  in  silence  smother  up  this  Mot, 
And,  in  compassion  of  thy  daughter's  wrong. 
Be  counted  father  to  another's  child ;  zi5 

For  why,  my  soul  knows  her  unguxltiness. 

Sax.    Smooth  words  in  bitter  sense  ;  is  [this]  thine  answer? 

Hed.    Ei  Vater,  gehe  mir  mein  Kind,  de  Kind  ist  mein. 

Sax.    Gas  weiss  ich  wohl ;  er  sagt,  e$  ist  nicht  sein,  therefore 
it  dies*  ^    I90 

He  dashes  out  th4  ckiUPi  brdins 


Sc.  3]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        457 

Hed.     O Gott in seinem  Trone /    O metii Kind, mein  Kind/ 

Sax,    There,  murderer,   take  his    head    and  breathless 
limbs  I 
There's  flesh  enough,  bury  it  in  thy  bowels. 
Eat  that,  or  die  for  hunger  ;   I  protest 

Thou  gefst  no  other  food  till  that  be  spent.  125 

And  now  to  thee,  lewd  whore,  dishonour'd  strumpet. 
Thy  turn  is  next ;   therefore  prepare  to  die. 

Ed»    O  mighty  Duke  of  Saxon,  spare  thy  child. 

Sax.  She  is  thy  wife .  Edward,  and  thou  shouldst  spare  her  ; 
One  gracious  word  of  thine  will  save  her  life.  130 

Ed.    I  do  confess,  Saxon,  she  is  mine  own. 
As  I  have  married  her  I  will  live  with  her, 
Comfoft  thyself,  sweet  Hedewick  and  sweet  wife. 

Hed.    Ach,  ach  und  wehe,  warum  sagt  your  excellence  nicht 
so  before,  now  tst  too  late,  unser  arme  Kind  is  kilt.  135 

Ed.    Though  thou  be  mine,  and  I  do  pity  thee, 
I  would  not  nurse  a  bastard  for  a  son. 

Hed.     O  Eduart,  now  ich  mark  your  meaning  ;ich  should  be 
your  whore  ;   mein  Vater,  ich  begehr  upon  meine  knee,  lass 
mich  lieb&r  sterben.    Ade,    false  Eduart,    false  Prince,    ich  140 
begehr's  nicht. 

Sax.    Unprincely  thoughts  do  hammer  in  thy  head ; 
Is't  not  enough  that  thou  hast  sham'd  her  once. 
And  seen  the  bastard  torn  before  thy  face  ; 
But  thou  wouldst  get  more  brats  for  butchery  ?  145 

No,  Hedewick,  thou  shalt  not  live  the  day. 

Hed,    O  Herr  Gott,  nim  meine  Seele  in  deine  Hdnde. 

Sax.    It  is  thy  hand  that  gives  this  deadly  stroke. 

[Stabs  her] 

Hed,    O  Herr  Sabaot,  doss  mein  unschuld  an  tag  kommen 
mdcht*  /  1 50 

Ed.    Her  blood  be  on  that  wretched  villain's  head 
That  is  the  cause  of  all  this  misery. 

Sax.    Now,  murderous-minded  f^nce,  hast  thou  beheld 
Upon  my  child  and  child's  child  thy  desire  ; 
Swear  to  thyself,  that  here  I  firmly  swear,  155 

That  thou  shalt  surely  follow  her  to-morrow. 
In  company  of  thy  adulterous  aunt. 
Jailor,  convey  him  to  his  dungeon. 
If  he  be  hungry,  I  have  thrown  him  meat. 
If  thirsty,  let  him  suck  the  newly  bom  limbs.  160 

Ed,    O  heavens  and  heavenly  powers,  if  yon  be  just. 


458        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  V 

Reward  the  autiior  of  this  wickedness. 

Exit  Edward  and  Jailor 

Enter  Alexander 

AUx.    To  arms,  great  Duke  of  Saxony,  to  arms  I 
My  Lord  of  Collen  and  the  Earl  of  Cornwall, 
In  rescue  of  Prince  Edward  and  the  Empress,  165 

Have  levied  fresh  supplies,  and  presently 
Will  bid  you  battle  in  the  open  field. 

Sax,    They  never  could  have  come  in  fitter  time  ; 
Thirst  they  for  blood  ?  And  they  shall  quench  their  thirst. 

AUx,    O  piteous  spectacle  !    Poor  Princess  Hedewick  1      170 

Sax.    Stand  not  to  pity,  lend  a  helping  hand. 

Alex.    What  slave  hath  murdered  this  guiltless  child  ? 

Sax,    What,  dar'st  thou  call  me  slave  unto  my  face  ? 
I  tell  thee,  villain,  I  have  done  this  deed, 
And  seeing  the  father  and  the  grandsire's  heart  175 

Can  give  consent  and  execute  their  own. 
Wherefore  should  such  a  rascal  as  thyself 
Presume  to  pity  them,  whom  we  have  slain  ? 

Alex.    Pardon  me ;  if  it  be  presumption 
To  pity  them,  I  will  presume  no  more.  180 

Sax.    Then  help,  I  long  to  be  amidst  my  foes. 

Exeunt  Ibearing  off  the  dead  bodies] 

ACT  V 

[SCENE    I 

A  Field  without  the  WaUs\ 

Alarum  and  retreat.    Enter  Richard  and  Collen,  with  drums  and 

Soldiers 

Rich.    What  means  your  Excellence  to  sound  retreat  ? 
This  is  the  day  of  doom  unto  our  friends ; 
Before  sun  set  my  sister  and  my  nephew, 
Unless  we  rescue  them,  must  lose  their  lives ; 
The  cause  admits  no  dalliance  nor  delay ;  5 

He  that  so  tyrant-Uke  hath  slain  his  own, 
WiIL  take  no  pity  on  a  stranger's  blood. 

Col.    At  my  entreaty,  ere  we  strike  the  battle. 
Let* s  summon  out  our  enemies  to  a  parle : 
Words  spoken  in  time  have  virtue,  power,  and  price,  zo 

And  mildness  may  prevail  and  take  efieot. 
When  dint  of  sword  perhaps  will  aggravate* 


Sc.  I]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        459 

Rich.    Then  sound  a  parley  to  fulfil  your  mind. 
Although  I  know  no  good  can  follow  it.  A  pofley 

Enter   Alphonsus,    Empress,    Saxon,    Edward   prisoner^   Trier, 
Brandenburg,  Alexander,  and  Soldiers 

Alp,    Why,  how  now.  Emperor  that  should  have  been,      15 
Are  these  the  English  general's  bravadoes  ? 
Make  you  assault  so  hotly  at  the  first. 
And  in  the  self-same  moment  sound  retreat  ? 
To  let  you  know  that  neither  war  nor  words 
Have^power  for  to  divert  their  fatal  doom,  20 

Thus  are  we  both  resolv'd :   if  we  triumph. 
And  by  the  right  and  justice  of  our  cause 
Obtain  the  victory,  as  I  doubt  it  not. 
Then  both  of  you  shall  bear  them  company, 
And  ere  sun  set  we  will  perform  our  oaths,  25 

With  just  effusion  of  their  guilty  bloods ; 
If  you  be  conquerors,  and  we  overcome, 
Carry  not  that  conceit  to  rescue  them, 
M3rself  will  be  the  executioner. 

And  with  these  poniards  frustrate  all  your  hopes,  30 

Making  3rou  triumph  in  a  bloody  field. 

Sax.    To  put  you  out  of  doubt  that  we  intend  it. 
Please  it  3rour  Majesty  to  take  your  seat. 
And  make  a  demonstration  of  3rour  meaning. 

[Alphonsus  takes  his  seaf\ 

Alp.    First  on  my  right  hand  bind  the  English  whore,  35 

That  venomous  serpent,  nurs'd  within  my  breast. 
To  suck  the  vital  blood  out  of  my  veins ; 
My  Empress  must  have  some  pre-eminence, 
Especially  at  such  a  bloody  banquet ; 

Her  state  and  love  to  me  deserves  no  less.  40 

[Soldiers  bind  the  Empress  to  a  chair} 

Sax.    That  to  Prince  Edward  I  may  show  my  love. 
And  do  the  latest  honour  to  his  state, 
These  hands  of  mine  that  never  chained  any. 
Shall  fasten  him  in  fetters  to  the  chair. 

[Saxon  bifHls  Edward] 
Now,  Princes,  are  you  ready  for  the  battle  ?  45 

Col.    Now  art  thou  right  the  picture  of  thyself. 
Seated  in  height  of  all  thy  tyranny ; 
But  tell  08,  what  intends  this  spectacle  ? 

Alp.    To  make  the  certainty  of  their  deaths  more  plain. 


46o        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  V 

And  cancel  all  your  hopes  to  save  their  lives  ;  50 

While  Saxon  leads  the  troops  into  the  field. 

Thus  win  I  vex  their  souls  with  sight  of  death. 

Loudly  exclaiming  in  their  half-dead  ears. 

That  if  we  win  they  shall  have  company, 

Videlicet  the  English  Emperor,  55 

And  you,  my  lord  Archbishop  of  CoUen  ; 

If  we  be  vanquished  then  they  must  expect 

Speedy  dispatch  from  these  two  daggers'  points. 

Col.    What  canst  thou,  tyrant,  then  expect  but  deatii  ? 

Alp.    Tush,  hear  me  out ;    that  hand  which  shed  their 
blood  60 

Can  do  the  like  to  rid  me  out  of  bonds. 

Rich.     But  that's  a  damned  resolution. 

Alp.    So  must  this  desperate  disease  be  cur'd. 

Rtch.     O  Saxon,  I'll  yield  myself  and  all  my  power 
To  save  my  nephew,  though  my  sister  die.  65 

Sax,    Thy  brother's  kingdom  shall  not  save  his  life. 

Ed.    Uncle,  you  see  these  savage-minded  men 
Will  have  no  other  ransom  but  my  blood  ; 
England  hath  heirs,  though  I  be  never  king, 
And  hearts  and  hands  to  scourge  tiiis  tyranny ;  70 

And  so  farewell  f 

Emp.  A  thousand  times  farewell. 

Sweet  brother  Richard  and  brave  Prince  of  CoUen  1 

Sax.    What,  Richard,  hath  this  object  pierc'd  thy  heart  ? 
By  this  imagine  how  it  went  with  me 
When  yesterday  I  slew  my  children.  75 

Rich.    O  Saxon,  I  entreat  thee  on  my  knefes. 

Sax.    Thou  shalt  obtain  like  mercy  with  thy  kneeling 
As  lately  I  obtain'd  at  Edward's  hands. 

Ric.    Pity  the  tears  I  pour  before  thy  feet. 

Sax.    Fity  those  tears  ?    Why,  I  shed  bloody  tears.  80 

Rich.    I'll  do  the  like  to  save  Prince  Edward's  life. 

Sax.    Then  like  a  warrior  spill  it  in  the  field ; 
My  griefiul  anger  cannot  be  appeas'd 
By  sacrifice  of  any  but  himself  ; 

Thou  hast  dishonour'd  me,  and  thou  shalt  die  !  85 

Therefore  alarum,  alarum  to  the  fight 
That  thousands  more  may  bear  thee  company! 

Rich.    Nephew  and  sister,  now  farewell  for  ever! 

Ed.    Heaven  and  the  right  prevail,  and  let  me  die  ! 
Uncle,  farewell  I  <iO 


Sc.  1}     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        461 

Emp,    Brother,  farewell*  until  we  meet  in  heaven  !  Exeunt 

Manent  Alphonsus,  Edward,  Empress,  Alexander 

Alp,     Here's  farewell,  brother,  nephew,  uncle,  aunt» 
As  if  in  thousand  years  3rou  should  not  meet. 
Good  nephew  an4  good  aunt,  content  yourselves. 
The  sword  of  Saxon  and  these  daggers'  points,  95 

Before  the  evening-star  doth  show  itself. 
Will  take  sufficient  order  for  your  meeting. 
But  Alexander,  my  trusty  Alexander, 
Run  to  the  watch-tow 'r  as  I  pointed  thee. 
And  by  thy  life  I  charge  thee,  look  unto  it,  100 

Thou  be  the  first  to  bring  me  certain  word 
If  we  be  conquerors,  or  conquered. 

A  lex.     With  careful  speed  I  will  perform  this  charge.     Exit 

Alp,     Now  have  I  leisure  yet  to  talk  with  you. 
Fair  Isabel,  the  Palsgrave's  paramour,  105 

Wherein  was  he  a  better  man  than  I  ? 
Or  wherefore  should  thy  love  to  him  effect 
Such  deadly  hate  unto  thy  Emperor  ? 
Yet  well  fare  wenches  that  can  love  good  fellows 
And  not  mix  murder  with  adultery.  no 

Emp,    Great  Emperor,  I  dare  not  call  you  husband. 
Your  conscience  knows  my  heart's  unguiltiness. 

Alp.    Didst  thou  not  poison,  or  consent  to  poison  us  ? 

Emp.    Should  any  but  your  Highness  tell  me  so, 
I  should  forget  my  patience  at  my  death,  115 

And  call  him  villain,  liar,  murderer. 

Alp.    She  that  doth  so  miscall  me  at  her  end, 
Edward,  I  prithee,  speak  thy  conscience, 
Think'st  thou  not  that  in  her  prosperity 
Sh'ath  vex'd  my  soul  with  bitter  words  and  deeds  ?  I30 

O  Prince  of  England,  I  do  count  thee  wise. 
That  thou  wilt  not  be  cumber'd  with  a  wife. 
When  thou  hadst  stol'n  her  dainty  rose-corance. 
And  pluck'd  the  flow'r  of  her  virginity. 

Ed.    Tyrant  of  Spain,  thou  liest  in  thy  throat  1  125 

Alp.    Good  words  !  Thou  seest  thy  life  is  in  our  hands. 

Ed.    1  see  thou  art  become  a  common  hangman. 
An  office  far  more  fitting  to  thy  mind 
Than  princely  to  the  imperial  dignity. 

Alp,    I  do  not  exercise  on  common  persons  ;  130 

Your  Highness  is  a  Prince,  and  she  an  Empress, 


462        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [ActV 

I  therefore  count  not  of  a  dignity.    {Noise  of  ba$(le  within^ 

Hark,  Edward,  how  they  labour  aU  in  vain, 

With  loss  of  many  a  valiant  soldier's  life. 

To  rescue  them  whom  Heaven  and  we  have  doom'd ;  135 

Dost  thou  not  tremble  when  thou  think'st  upon't  ? 

Ed.    Let  guilty  minds  tremble  at  sight  of  death. 
My  heart  is  of  tiie  nature  of  the  palm. 
Not  to  be  broken,  till  the  highest  bud 

Be  bent  and  tied  unto  the  lowest  root.  140 

I  rather  wonder  that  thy  tjrrant's  heart 
Can  give  consent,  that  those  liiy  butcherous  hands 
Should  offer  violence  to  thy  flesh  and  blood. 
See,  how  her  guiltless  innocence  doth  plead 
In  silent  oratory  of  her  chastest  tears.  145 

A  Ip,    Those  tears  proceed  from  fury  and  curst  heart ; 
I  know  the  stomach  of  your  English  dames. 

Emp.    No,  Emperor,  tiiese  tears  proceed  from  grief. 

Alp,     Grief  that  thou  canst  not  be  reveng'd  of  us. 

Emp,    Grief  that  your  Highness  is  so  ill  advis'd  150 

To  offer  violence  to  my  nephew  Edward. 
Since  then  there  must  be  sacrifice  of  blood. 
Let  my  heart-blood  save  both  your  bloods  unspilt. 
For  of  his  death  thy  heart  must  pay  the  guilt. 

Ed,    No,  aunt,  I  will  not  buy  my  life  so  dear;  155 

Therefore,  Alphonso,  if  thou  beest  a  man. 
Shed  manly  blood  and  let  me  end  this  strife. 

Alp.     Here's  straining  court'sy  at  a  bitter  feast  I 
Content  thee,  Empress,  for  thou  art  my  wife. 
Thou  shalt  obtain  thy  boon  and  die  the  death,  160 

And,  for  it  were  unprincely  to  deny 
So  slight  request  unto  so  great  a  lord, 
Edward  shall  bear  thee  company  in  death.  A  retreat 

But  hark,  the  heat  of  battle  hath  an  end. 
One  side  or  other  hath  the  victory ;  165 

Enter  Alexander 

And  see  where  Alexander  sweating  comes  I 

Speak,  man,  what  news  ?  Speak,  shall  I  die  or  live  ? 

Shall  I  stab  sure,  or  else  prolong  their  lives 

To  grievous  torments  ?     Speak,  am  I  conqueror  ? 

What,  hath  thy  haste  bereft  thee  of  thy  speech  ?  170 

Hast  thou  not  breath  to  speak  one  syllable  ? 

O  speak,  thy  dalliance  kills  me ;  won  or  lost  ? 


Sc.  I]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        463 

Alex.    Lost  I 

Alp.    Ah  me,  my  senses  fail,  my  sight  is  gone  I 

Amated,  lets  fall  the  daggers 

Alex.    Will  not  your  Grace  dispatch  the  strumpet  Queen  ?  175 
Shall  she  then  live,  and  we  be  doom'd  to  deatii  ? 
Is  your  heart  faint,  or  is  your  hand  too  weak  ? 
Shall  servile  fear  break  your  so  sacred  oaths  ? 
Methinks  an  Emperor  should  hold  his  word. 
Give  me  the  weapons,  I  will  soon  dispatch  them,  180 

My  father's  yelling  ghost  cries  for  revenge ; 
His  blood  within  my  veins  boils  for  revenge ; 
O,  give  me  leave,  Caesar,  to  take  revenge  1 

Alp.    Upon  condition  that  thou  wilt  protest 
To  take  revenge  upon  the  murtherers,  185 

Without  respect  of  dignity  or  state, 
AfSict[mg]  speedy,  pitiless  revenge, 
I  will  commit  this  dagger  to  thy  trust. 
And  give  thee  leave  to  execute  thy  will. 

Alex.    What  need  I  here  reiterate  the  deeds  190 

Which  deadly  sorrow  made  me  perpetrate  ? 
How  near  did  I  entrap  Prince  Richard's  life  I 
How  sure  set  I  the  knife  to  Mentz  his  heart  I 
How  cunningly  was  Palsgrave  doom'd  to  death  I 
How  subtilely  was  Bohem  poisoned  I  195 

How  slyly  did  I  satisfy  my  lust. 
Commixing  dulcet  love  with  deadly  hate. 
When  Princess  Hedewick  lost  her  maidenhead. 
Sweetly  embracing  me  for  England's  heir! 

Ed.    O  execrable  deeds  I 

Emp.  O  savage  mind  I  200 

Alex.    Edward,  I  give  thee  leave  to  hear  of  this. 
But  will  forbid  the  blabbing  of  your  tongue. 
Now,  gracious  lord  and  sacred  Emperor, 
Your  Highness  knowing  these  and  many  more, 
Which  fearless  pregnancy  hath  wrought  in  me,  205 

You  do  me  wrong  to  doubt,  that  I  will  dive 
Into  their  hearts,  that  have  not  spar'd  their  betters  ; 
Be  therefore  sudden  lest  we  die  ourselves, 
I  know  the  conqueror  hastes  to  rescue  them. 

Alp.    Thy  reasons  are  effectual,  take  this  dagger;  210 

Yet  pause  awlnle. 

Emp.  Sweet  nephew,  now  farewell  I 

Alp.    They  are  most  dear  to  me,  whom  thou  must  kin. 


464   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  V 

Ed.    Hark,  aunt,  he  now  begins  to  pity  you. 

Alex.    But  they  consented  to  my  father's  death. 

Alp,    More  than  consented,  they  did  execute.  215 

Emp.    I  will  not  make  his  Majesty  a  liar; 
I  kill'd  thy  father,  therefore  let  me  die. 
But  save  the  life  of  this  unguilty  Prince. 

Ed,    I  kill'd  thy  father,  therefore  let  me  die. 
But  save  the  life  of  this  unguilty  Empress.  220 

Alp,    Hark  thou  to  me.  and  think  their  words  as  wind. 
I  kill'd  thy  father,  therefore  let  me  die. 
And  save  the  lives  of  these  two  guiltless  Princes. 
Art  thou  amaz'd  to  hear  what  I  have  said  ? 
There,  take  the  weapon,  now  revenge  at  full  225 

Thy  father's  death  and  those  jny  dire  deceits, 
That  made  thee  murtherer  of  so  many  souls. 

Alex,    O  Emperor,  how  cunningly  wouldst  thou  entrap 
My  simple  youl^  to  credit  fictions  1 

Thou  kill  my  father  ?  No,  no.  Emperor,  230 

Caesar  did  love  Lorenzo  bH  too  dearly : 
Seeing  thy  forces  now  are  vanquished. 
Frustrate  thy  hopes,  thy  Highness  like  to  fall 
Into  the  cruel  and  revengeful,  hands 

Of  merciless,  incensed  enemies,  235 

Like  Caius  Cassius  weary  of  thy  life, 
Now  wouldst  thou  make  thy  page  an  instrument 
By  sudden  stroke  to  rid  thee  of  thy  bonds. 

Alp,    Hast  thou  forgotten,  how  that  very  iiight 
Thy  father  died  I  took  the  master-key«  240 

And  with  a  lighted  torch  walk'd  through  the  court  ? 

Alex,    I  must  remember  that,  for  to  my  death 
I  never  shall  forget  the  slightest  deed. 
Which  on  that  dismal  night  or  day  I  did. 

Alp,    Thou  wast  no  sooner  in  thy  restful  bed,  245 

But  I  disturb'd  thy  father  of  his  rest. 
And  to  be  short,  not  that  I  hated  him. 
But  for  he  knew  my  deepest  secrets. 
With  cunning  poison  I  did  end  his  Ufe. 

Art  thou  his  son  ?     Express  it  with  a  stab,  250 

And  make  account,  if  I  had  prospered. 
Thy  date  was  out,  thou  wast  already  doom'd ; 
Thou  knew'st  too  much  of  me  to  live  with  me. 

Alex.    What  wonders  do  I  hear,  great  Emperor  1 
Not  that  I  do  steadfastly. believe  255 


Sc.  I]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        465 

That  thou  did'st  murder  my  beloved  father. 

But  in  mere  pity  of  thy  vanquished  state 

I  undertake  this  execution : 

Yet  for  I  fear  the  sparkling  majesty. 

Which  issues  from  lliy  most  imperial  eyes,  260 

May  strike  relenting  passion  to  my  heart, 

And,  after  wound  received  from  fainting  hand. 

Thou  fall  half-dead  among  thine  enemies, 

I  crave  thy  Highness  leave  to  bind  thee  fixst. 

Alp.    Then  bind  me  quickly,  use  me  as  thou  please.  265 

Emp.    O  villain,  wilt  thou  kill  thy  sovereign  ? 

Alex,    Your  Highness  sees  that  I  am  forc'd  unto  it. 

[Binds  Alphonsus  to  his  chair] 

Alp.    Fair  Empress,  I  shame  to  ask  thee  pardon, 
Whom  I  have  wrong'd  so  many  thousand  ways. 

Emp.    Dread  lord  and  husband,  leave  these  desperate 
thoughts,  270 

Doubt  not  the  Princes  may  be  reconcil'd. 

Alex.    T  may  be  the  Princes  will  be  reconcil'd, 
But  what  is  that  to  me  ?    All  potentates  on  earth 
Can  never  reconcile  my  grieved  soul. 

Thou  slew'st  my  father,  thou  didst  make  this  hand  275 

Mad  with  revenge  to  murther  innocents ; 
Now  hear  how  in  the  height  of  all  thy  pride 
The  rightful  gods  have  pour'd  their  justful  wrath 
Upon  thy  tyrant's  head,  devil  as  thou  art, 
And  sav'd  by  miracles  these  Princes'  lives.  280 

For  know,  thy  side  hath  got  the  victory, 
Saxon  triumphs  over  his  dearest  friends ; 
Richard  and  CoUen  both  are  prisoners. 
And  everything  hath  sorted  to  thy  wish ; 
Only  hath  Heaven  put  it  in  my  mind  285 

(For  He  alone  directed  then  my  thoughts. 
Although  my  meaning  was  most  mischievous) 
To  tell  thee  thou  hadst  lost,  in  certain  hope 
That  suddenly  thou  wouldst  have  slain  them  both ; 
For  if  the  Princes  came  to  talk  about  it,  290 

I  greatly  fear'd  their  lives  might  be  prolong'd. 
Art  thou  not  mad  to  think  on  this  deceit  ? 
I'll  make  thee  madder  with  tormenting  thee. 
I  teU  thee,  arch-thief,  villain,  murtherer, 

Thy  forces  have  obtain'd  the  victory,  295 

Victory  leads  thy  foes  in  captive  bands; 

C.D.W.  H  H 


466        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  V 

This  victory  hath  crown'd  thee  Emperor, 
Only  myself  have  vanqoish'd  victory 
And  triumph  in  the  victor's  overthrow. 

Alp,    O,  Alexander,  spare  thy  Prince's  Hie  I  300 

Alex,    Even  now  thou  didst  entreat  the  contrary. 

Alp,    Think  what  I  am  that  b^  my  lifo  of  thee. 

Alex,    Think  what  he  was  whom  thou  hast  doom'd  to 
death. 
But  lest  the  Princes  do  surprise  us  here. 
Before  I  have  performed  my  strange  revenge,  305 

I  will  be  sadden  in  the  execution. 

Alp,    I  will  accept  any  condition. 

Alex,    Then  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperess, 
The  captive  Prince  of  England,  and  mysc^. 
Forswear  the  joys  of  Heaven,  the  sight  of  God,  310 

Thy  soul's  salvation,  and  thy  Saviour  Christ, 
Danming  thy  soul  to  endless  pains  of  hell: 
Do  this,  or  die  upon  my  rapier's  point. 

Emp,    Sweet  lord  and  husband,  spit  in's  face  I 
Die  like  a  man,  and  live  not  like  a  devil.  313 

Alex,    What  1  'WAt  thou  save  thy  life,  and  danm  thy  soul  ? 

Alp,    O,  hold  thy  hand,  Alphonsus  doth  renounce— 

Ed,    Aunt,  stop  your  eaiB,  hear  not  this  blasphemy. 

Emp,    Sweet  husband,  think  that  Christ  did  die  for  thee. 

Alp,    Alphonsus  doth  renounce  the  joys  of  Heaven,         320 
The  sight  of  angels  and  his  Saviour's  blood. 
And  gives  his  soul  unto  the  devil's  power. 

Alex,    Thus  will  I  make  delivery  of  the  deed, 
Die  and  be  damn'd  1     Now  am  I  satisfied  \        {KiUs  him\ 

Ed,    O  damned  miscreant,  what  hast  thou  done  ?  325 

Alex,    When  I  have  leisure  I  will  answer  thee ; 
Meanwhile  Til  take  my  heels  and  save  myself. 
If  I  be  ever  call'd  in  question, 
I  hope  your  Majesties  will  save  my  life. 

You  have  so  happily  preserved  yours ;  330 

Did  I  not  think  it,  both  of  you  should  die.        Exit  Alexander 

Enter  Saxon,  Brandenburg,  Trier ;  Richard  and  CoUen  as 

prisoners,  and  Soldiers 

Sax,    Bring  forth  these  daring  champions  to  the  block  I 
Comfort  yourselves,  you  shall  have  company* 
Great  Emperor — ^Where  is  his  Majesty  ? 
What  bloody  spectacle  do  I  behold  ?  333 


Sc.  I]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        467 

Emp,    Revenge,  revenge,  O  Saxon,  Biandenbuxg  I 
My  lord  is  aLain,  Caesar  is  doomed  to  death. 

Ed.    Princes,  make  haste,  follow  the  mnrtherer  I 

Siuf.    Is  Caesar  slain  ? 

Ed,  Follow  the  murtherer  ! 

Emp.    Why  stand  yon  gazing  on  another  thus  ?  340 

Follow  the  murtherer  1 

Seuc.  What  murtherer  ? 

Ed.    The  villain  Alexander  hath  slain  his  lord  I 
Make  after  him  with  speed,  so  shall  you  hear 
Such  villany  as  you  have  never  heard. 

Bran.    My  Lord  of  Trier,  we  both  with  our  light  horse      345 
Will  scour  the  coasts  and  quickly  bring  him  in. 

Sax.    That  can  your  Excellence  alone  perform ; 

[Exit  Brandenburg] 
Stay  you,  my  lord,  and  guard  the  prisoners, 
While  I,  alas  I  unhappiest  prince  alive. 

Over  his  trunk  consume  myself  in  tears.  350 

Hath  Alexander  done  this  damned  deed  ? 
That  cannot  be,  why  should  he  slay  his  lord  ? 
O  cruel  fate  t    O  miserable  me  I  ^ 

Methinks  I  now  present  Mark  Antony, 

Folding  dead  Julius  Caesar  in  mine  arms.  355 

No,  no,  I  rather  will  present  Achilles 
And  on  Patroclus'  tomb  do  sacrifice. 
Let  me  be  spum'd  and  hated  as  a  dog^ 
But  I  perform  more  direful,  bloody  rites 
Than  Thetis'  son  for  Menoetiades.  360 

Ed.    Leave  mourning  for  thy  foes,  pity  thy  friends. 

Siix.    Friends  have  I  none,  and  that  which  grieves  my  soul 
Is  want  of  foes  to  work  my  wreak  upon ; 
But  were  3rou  traitors  four,  four  hundred  thousand. 
Then  might  I  satisfy  m3melf  with  blood.  365 

Enter  Brandenburg,  Alexander,  and  Soldiers 

Sax.    See,  Alexander,  where  Caesar  lieth  slain, 
The  guilt  whereof  the  traitors  cast  on  thee ; 
Speak,  canst  thou  tell  who  slew  thy  sovereign  ? 

AUx.    Why,  who  but  I  ?    How  should  I  curse  myself, 
If  any  but  myself  had  done  this  deed !  370 

This  happy  hand — bless'd  be  my  hand  therefore  1 — 
Reveng'd  my  father's  death  upon  his  soul : 
And,  Saxon,  thou  hast  cause  to  curse  and  ban  ., 


468        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  V 

That  he  is  dead,  before  thou  didst  inflict 

Torments  on  him  that  so  hath  torn  thy  heart.  375 

Sax.    What  mysteries  are  these  ? 

Bran.     Princes,  can  you  inform  us  of  the  truth  ? 

Ed.    The  deed's  so  heinous  that  my  faltering  tongue 
Abhors  the  utterance.     Yet  I  must  tell  it. 

Alex.    Your  Highness  shall  not  need  to  take  the  pains  ;       380 
What  you  abhor  to  tell,  I  joy  to  tell. 
Therefore  be  silent  and  give  audience. 
You  mighty  men  and  rulers  of  the  earth. 
Prepare  your  ears  to  hear  of  stratagems 

Whose  dire  effects  have  gall'd  your  princely  hearts,  383 

Confounded  your  conceits,  muffled  your  eyes. 
First,  to  begin,  this  villanous  flend  of  hell 
Murther'd  my  father,  sleeping  in  his  chair ; 
The  reason  why,  because  he  only  knew 

All  plots  and  complots  of  his  villany ;  390 

His  death  was  made  the  basis  and  the  ground 
Of  every  mischief  that  hath  troubled  you. 

Sax.    If  thou,  thy  father,  and  thy  progeny 
Were  hang'd  and  burnt,  and  broken  on  the  wheel. 
How  could  their  deaths  heap  mischief  on  our  heads  ?  395 

Alex.    And  if  you  will  not  hear  the  reason— choose  1 
I  tell  thee,  I  have  slain  an  Emperor, 
And  thereby  think  myself  as  good  a  man 
As  thou,  or  any  man  in  Christendom ; 
Thou  shalt  entreat  me,  ere  I  tell  thee  more.  400 

Brand.    Proceed ! 

Alex.  Not  1 1 

Sax^  I  prithee  now  {proceed  ! 

Alex.    Since  you  entreat  me,  then,  I  will  proceed. 
This  murtherous  devil,  having  slain  my  father, 
Buzz'd  cunningly  into  my  credulous  ears. 
That  by  a  general  council  of  the  States,  405 

And,  as  it  were,  by  Act  of  Parliament, 
The  seven  Electors  had  set  down  his  death, 
And  made  the  Empress  executioner. 
Transferring  all  the  guilt  from  him  to  you. 
This  I  believ'd,  and  first  did  set  upon  410 

The  life  of  princely  Richard  by  the  boors 
But  how  my  purpose  fail'd  in  that,  his  Grace  best  knows  ; 
Next,  by  a  double  intricate  deceit, 
Midst  all  his  mirth,  was  Bohem  poisoned. 


Sc.  I]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        469 

And  good  old  Mentz  to  save  Alphonso^  life  415 

(Who  at  that  instant  was  in  perfect  health), 

'Twixt  jest  and  earnest  was  made  a  sacrifice ; 

As  for  the  Palatine,  your  Graces  knew 

His  Highness'  and  the  Queen's  unguiltmeBS ; 

But  now,  my  Lord  of  Saxon,  hark  to  me,  420 

Father  of  Saxon  should  I  rather  call  you, 

'Twas  I  that  made  your  Grace  a  grandfather. 

Prince  Edward  plough'd  the  ground,  I  sow'd  the  seed ; 

Poor  Hedewick  bore  the  most  unhappy  fruit, 

Created  in  a  most  unlucky  hour,  425 

To  a  most  violent  and  untimely  death. 

Sax.    O  loathsome  villain  !     O  detested  deeds  i 
O  guiltless  Prince  !     O  me  most  miserable  I 

Brand.    But  tell  us  who  reveal'd  to  thee  at  last 
This  shameful  guilt  and  our  unguiltiness  ?  430 

Alex.    Why,  that's  the  wonder,  lords,  and  thus  it  was : 
When  like  a  tyrant  he  had  ta'en  his  seat. 
And  that  the  fury  of  the  fight  began. 
Upon  the  highest  watch-towY  of  the  fort 
It  was  my  office  to  behold  aloft  435 

The  war's  event ;  and  having  seen  the  end, 
T  saw  how  victory,  with  equal  vrings. 
Hang  hovering  'twixt  the  battles  here  and  there. 
Till  at  last  the  English  lions  fled. 

And  Saxon's  side  obtain'd  the  victory;  440 

Which  seen,  I  posted  from  the  turret's  top 
More  furiously  than  e'er  Laocoon  ran, 
When  Trojan  hands  drew  in  Troy's  overthrow. 
But  yet  as  fataUy  as  he  or  any. 

The  t3nrant,  seeing  me,  star'd  in  my  face,  445 

And  suddenly  demanded  what's  the  news ; 
I,  as  the  Fates  would  have  it,  hoping  that  he 
Even  in  a  twinkling  would  have  slain  'em  both, 
For  so  he  swore  before  the  fight  began. 

Cried  bitterly  that  he  had  lost  the  day ;  450 

The  sound  whereof  did  kill  his  dastard  heart. 
And  made  the  villain  desperately  confess 
The  murther  of  my  father,  praying  me 
"^th  dire  revenge  to  rid  him  of  his  life. 

Short  tale  to  make,  I  bound  him  cunningly,  455 

Told  him  of  the  deceit,  triumphing  over 
And  lastly  with  my  rapier  slew  him  dead. 


470        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Act  V 

SoM.    O,  heavens.  Justly-  have  you  ta'en  revenge  I 
But  fhou,  thou  murtherous,  adulterous  slave. 
What  bull  of  Phalaris,  what  stiange  device  460 

Shall  we  invent  to  take  away  thy  life  ? 

Alex.    If  Edward  and  the  Empress,  whom  I  sav'd. 
Will  not  requite  it  now,  and  save  my  life. 
Then  let  me  die :  contentedly  I  die. 
Having  at  last  reveng'd  my  father's  death.  465 

Sax,    Villain,  not  all  the  world  shall  save  thy  life. 

Ed,    Hadst  thou  not  been  author  of  my  Hedewick's  death, 
I  would  have  certainly  sav'd  thee  from  death ; 
But  if  my  sentence  now  may  take  efiect, 
I  would  adjudge  the  villain  to  be  hang'd  470 

As  here  the  Jews  are  hang'd  in  Germany. 

Sax.    Young  Prince,  it  shall  be  so ;    go,  drag  the  slave 
Unto  the  place  of  execution ! 
There  let  the  Judas,  on  a  Jewish  gallows. 
Hang  by  the  heels  between  two  English  mafrtiiffis ;  475 

There  feed  on  dogs,  let  dogs  there  feed  on  thee. 
And  by  all  means  prolong  his  misery. 

Alex.    O,  might  thyself,  and  all  these  English  cats. 
Instead  of  mastifE-dogs,  hang  by  my  side. 
How  sweetly  would  I  tug  upon  your  flesh.  480 

Sax.    Away  with  him,  suffer  him  not  to  speak. 

Exit  Alexander  [guardedl 
And  now,  my  lords,  CoUen,  Trier,  and  Brandenburg, 
Whose  hearts  are  bruis'd  to  think  upon  these  woes. 
Though  no  man  hath  such  reason  as  myself, 
We  of  the  seven  Electors  that  remain  485 

After  so  many  bloody  massacres. 
Kneeling  upon  our  knees,  humbly  entreat 
Your  Excellence  to  be  our  Emperor. 
The  royalties  of  the  coronation 
Shall  be,  at  Aix,  shortly  solemnized.  4QO 

Col.    Brave  princely  Richard,  now  refuse  it  not. 
Though  the  election  be  made  in  tears, 
Joy  shall  attend  thy  coronation. 

Rich.    It  stands  not  with  mine  honour  to  deny  it, 
Yet,  by  mine  honour,  fain  I  would  refuse  it.  495 

Ed.    Unde,  the  weight  of  all  these  miseriew 
Maketh  my  heart  as  heavy  as  your  own, 
But  an  imperial  crown  would  lighten  it; 
Let  this  one  reason  make  you  take  the  crown. 


Sc.  I]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        471 

Rich.    What's  that,  sweet  nephew  ? 

Ed,  Sweet  uncle,  this  it  is ;  500 

Was  never  Englishman  yet  Emperor, 
Therefore  to  honour  England  and  yourself. 
Let  private  sorrow  yield  to  public  fame. 
That  once  an  Englishman  bare  Caesar's  name. 

Rich.    Nephew,  thou  hast  prevail'd  ;  Princes,  stand  up ;     505 
We  humbly  do  accept  your  sacred  ofEer. 

Col.    Then  sound  the  trumpets,  and  cry,  Vivai  Casar  I 

AU.     Vivai  Casar  I 

Col.    Richardus,  Dei  GraHa  Romanorum  Imperator,  semper 
Augustus,  Comes  Comubiis.  510 

Rich.     Sweet  sister,  now  let  Caesar  comfort  you  ; 
And  all  the  rest  that  yet  are  comfortless. 
Let  them  expect  from  English  Caesar's  hands 
Fteace  and  abundance  of  all  earthly  joy  I 


TINIS 


REVENGE   FOR  HONOUR 

A  TRAGEDY 


Revenge  for  Honour 


THE  PERSONS  ACTING 


Almanzor,  Caliph  of  Arabia 
Abilqualit,  his  eldest  son 
Abrahen  his    son  by  a  second 

wife,  brother  to  Abilqualit 
Tarifa,    an  old    General,    con- 

queror    of    Spain,    tutor    to 

Abilqualit 
Mora,  a  rough  lord,  a  soldier, 

hinsman    by    his    mother    to 

Abrahen 
Simanthes,  a  court  lord,  allied 

to  Abrahen 


Selinthus,  an  honest,  merry 
court  lord 

Mesithes,  a  court  eunuch,  attend- 
ant on  Abilqualit 

Osmaa,  a  captain  to  Tarifa 

Gaselles,  another  captain 

Caropia,  wife  to  Mura,  first 
beloved  of  Abrahen,  then  of 
Abilqualit 

Perilinda,  her  woman 

Soldiers,  Mutes,  Guard,  Attend^ 
ants 


474 


PROLOGUE 

Our  author  thinks  'tis  not  i'  th'  power  of  wit. 

Invention,  art,  nor  industry,  to  fit 

The  several  fantasies  which  in  this  age. 

With  a  predominant  humour,  rule  the  stage. 

Some  men  cry  out  for  satire,  others  choose  5 

Merely  to  story  to  confine  each  Muse ; 

Most  like  no  play  but  such  as  gives  large  birth 

To  that  which  they  judiciously  term  mirth, 

Nor  will  the  best  works  with  their  liking  crown, 

Except  't  be  graced  with  part  of  fool  or  clown.  10 

Hard  and  severe  the  task  is  then  to  write, 

So  as  may  please  each  various  appetite. 

Our  author  hopes  well,  though,  that  in  this  play. 

He  has  endeavour'd  so  he  justiy  may 

Gain  liking  from  you  all,  unless  those  few  15 

Who  wiU  dislike,  be't  ne'er  so  good,  so  new ; 

The  rather,  gentlemen,  he  hopes,  'cause  I 

Am  a  maia  actor  ia  this  tragedy : 

You've  grac'd  me  sometimes  in  another  sphere, 

And  I  do  hope  you'U  not  dislike  me  here.  20 

ACTUS  PRIMUS  SCENA  I 
[A  Room  in  the  Courf] 

Enter  Selinthus,  Gaselles,  and  Osman. 

Set,    No  murmurings,  noble  Captains  1 

Gas,  Murmurings,  cousin  ? 

This  peace  is  worse  to  men  of  war  and  action 
Than  fasting  in  the  face  o'  th'  foe,  or  lodging 
On  the  cold  earth.  Give  me  the  camp,  say  I, 
Where  in  the  sutier's  palace  on  pay-day  5 

We  may  the  precious  liquor  quaff,  and  kiss 
His  buzom  wife;  who  though  she  be  not  dad 

476 


476  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  I 

In  Persian  silks  or  costly  Tyrian  purples 

Has  a  clean  skin,  soft  thighs,  and  wholesome  corps. 

Fit  for  the  trailer  of  the  puissant  pike  lo 

To  solace  in  delight  with. 

Os,  Here  in  your  lewd  city 

The  harlots  do  avoid  us  sons  o'  th'  sword 
Worse  than  a  severe  officer.     Besides, 
Here  men  o'  th'  shop  can  gorge  their  musty  maws 
With  the  delicious  capon,  and  fat  limbs  13 

Of  mutton  large  enough  to  be  held  shoulders 
O'  th'  Ram  [among]  the  twelve  signs ;  while  for  pure  want 
Your  soldier  oft  dines  at  the  charge  o'  th'  dead, 
'Mong  tombs  in  the  great  mosque. 

Sel.  'Tis  believ'd,  coz. 

And  by  the  wisest  few  too,  that  i'  th'  camp  20 

You  do  not  feed  on  pleasant  poults ;  a  salaid. 
And  without  oil  or  vinegar,  appeases 
Sometimes  your  guts,  although  they  keep  more  noise 
Than  a  large  pool  full  of  engend'ring  frogs. 
Then  for  accoutrements  you  wear  the  buff,  25 

As  you  believ'd  it  heresy  to  change 
For  linen :  surely  most  of  yours  is  spent 
In  lint  to  make  long  tents  for  your  green  wounds 
After  an  onslaught. 

Gas.  Coz,  these  are  sad  truths, 

Incident  to  frail  mortals. 

Sel.  You  yet  cry  30 

Out  with  more  eagerness  still  for  new  wars 
Than  women  for  new  fashions. 

Os.  'Tis  confess'd  : 

Peace  is  more  opposite  to  my  nature  than 
The  running  ache  in  the  rich  usurer's  feet. 
When  he  roars  out  as  if  he  were  in  hell  35 

Before  his  time.     Why,  I  love  mischief,  coz, 
When  one  may  do't  securely ;  to  cut  throats 
With  a  licentious  pleasure,  when  good  men 
And  true  o'  th*  jury  with  their  frosty  beards 
Shall  not  have  power  to  give  the  noble  weasand,  40 

Which  has  the  steel  defied,  to  th'  hanging  mercy 
Of  the  imgracious  cord. 

Sel,  Gentlemen  both, 

And  cousins  mine,  I  do  believe't  much  pity 
To  strive  to  reconvert  you  from  the  faith 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  477 

You  have  been  bred  in :  though  your  large  discourse  45 

And  praise,  wherein  you  magnify  your  unstress 

War,  shall  scarce  drive  me  from  my  quiet  sheets. 

To  sleep  upon  a  turf.     But  pray  say,  cousins, 

How  do  you  like  your  general.  Prince  [Abilqualit]» 

Is  he  a  right  Mars  ? 

Gas,  As  if  his  nurse  had  lapp'd  him  50 

In  swaddling  clouts  of  steel,  a  very  Hector 
And  Alcibiades. 

Sel.  It  seems  he  does  not  relish 

These  boasted  sweets  of  war ;  for  all  his  triumphs. 
He  is  reported  melancholy. 

Os.  Wont  of  exercise 

Renders  all  men  of  actions  dull  as  dormice ;  55 

Your  soldier  only  can  dance  to  the  drum. 
And  sing  a  hymn  of  joy  to  the  sweet  trumpet : 
There's  no  music  like  it. 

Entar  Abrahen,  Mura,  and  Simanthes 

Abr.  I'll  know  the  cause,   , 

He  shall  deny  me  hardly  else. 

Mur.  His  melancholy 

Known  whence  it  rises  once,  't  may  much  conduce  60 

To  help  our  purpose. 

Gas.  Pray,  coz,  what  lords  are  these  ? 

They  seem  as  full  of  plot  as  generals 
Are  in  siege  ;  they're  very  serious. 

Sel,  That  young  stripling 

Is  our  great  Emperor's  son  by  his  last  wife ; 
That  in  the  rich  embroidery's  the  Court  Hermes,,  65 

One  that  has  hatch'd  more  projects  than  the  ovens 
In  Egypt  chickens ;  the  other,  though  they  call 
Friends,  his  mere  opposite  planet.  Mars, 
One  that  does  put  on  a  reserv'd  gravity, 
Which  some  call  wisdom,  the  rough  soldier  Mura,  70 

Governor  i'  th'  Moroccos. 

Os.  Him  we've  heard  of 

Before ;  but,  cousin,  shall  that  man  of  trust, 
Thy  tailor,  furnish  us  with  new  accoutrements  ? 
Hast  thou  ta'en  order  for  them  ? 

Sel,  Yes,  yes,  you  shall 

Flourish  in  fresh  habiliments ;  but  you  must  75 

Promise  me  not  to  engage  your  corporal  oaths 
You  will  see't  satisfied  at  the  next  press, 


478  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  I 

Out  of  the  profits  that  arise  from  ransom 

Of  those  rich  yeomans'  heirs  that  dare  not  look 

The  fierce  foe  in  the  feu:e. 

Gas.  Doubt  not  our  truths  ;  80 

Though  we  be  given  much  to  contradictions. 
We  will  not  pawn  oaths  of  that  nature. 

Sel.  WeU  then. 

This  note  does  fetch  the  garments :  meet  me,  cousins, 
Anon,  at  supper. 

Os.  Honourable  coz, 

We  will  come  give  our  thanks.        Exeunt  Gaselles,  Osman 

Enter  Abilqualit 

Abr.  My  gracious  brother,  8$ 

Make  us  not  such  a  stranger  to  your  thoughts, 
To  consume  all  your  honours  in  close  retirements ; 
Perhaps  since  you  from  Spain  retum'd  a  victor, 
With  the  world's  conqueror,  Alexander,  you  grieve 
Nature  ordain'd  no  otiier  earths  to  vanquish;  90 

If't  be  so,  princely  brother,  we'll  bear  part 
In  your  heroic  melancholy. 

AbiL  Gentle  youth. 

Press  me  no  farther;  I  still  hold  my  temper 
Free  and  unshaken ;  only  some  fond  thoughts 
Of  trivial  moment  call  my  faculties  95 

To  private  meditations. 

Sim.  Howsoe'er  your  Highness 

Does  please  to  term  them,  'tis  mere  melancholy. 
Which  next  to  sin  is  the  greatest  malady 
That  can  oppress  man's  soul. 

Sel.  They  say  right : 

And  that  your  Grace  may  see  what  a  mere  madness,  100 

A  very  midsummer  frenzy,  'tis  to  be 
Melancholy,  for  any  man  that  wants  no  money, 
I,  with  your  pardon,  will  discuss  unto  you 
All  sorts,  all  sizes,  persons,  and  conditions. 
That  are  infected  with  it,  and  the  reasons  105 

Why  it  in  each  arises. 

Abr.  Learned  Selinthus, 

Let's  taste  of  thy  philosophy. 

Mur.  Pish,  'tis  unwelcome 

To  any  [man]  of  judgment,  this  fond  prate : 
I  marvel  that  our  Emperor  does  permit  »  •  ' 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  479 

Fools  to  abound  1'  th'  Court  I 

Sel,  What  makes  your  grave  lordship  no 

In  it,  I  do  beseech  you  ?    But,  sir,  mark  me. 
The  kernel  of  the  text  enucleated, 
I  shall  confute,  refute,  repel,  refel, 
Explode,  exterminate,  expimge,  extinguish 
LikiD  a  rush-candle,  this  same  heresy,  115 

That  is  shot  up  like  a  pernicious  mushroom 
To  poison  true  humanity. 

[Abilqualit  going  i$  detained  by  Abrahen] 

Abr,  You  shall  stay 

And  hear  a  lecture  read  on  your  disease ; 
You  shall,  as  I  love  virtue. 

Sel.  Fust,  the  cause,  then. 

From  whence  this  flatus  hypochondnacus,  120 

This  glimmering  of  the  gizzard  (for  in  wildfowl 
'Tis  term'd  so  by  Hippocrates)  arises. 
Is,  as  Averroes  and  Avicen, 
With  Aben[h]u[a]car,  Baruch,  and  Abo[la]fi, 
And  all  the  Arabic  writers  have  affirm'd,  125 

A  mere  defect,  that  is,  as  we  interpret, 
A  want  of 

Abil.    Of  what,  Selinthus  ? 

Sel.  Of  wit,  and  please  your  Highness ; 

That  is  the  cause  in  gen'ral ;  for  particular 
And  special  causes,  they  are  all  deriv'd  130 

From  several  wants ;  yet  they  must  be  considered. 
Pondered,  perpended,  or  premeditated. 

Sim.     My  lord,   y'ad  best  be  brief,  your  patient 
Will  be  weary  else. 

Sel.  1  cannot  play 

The  fool  rightly,  I  mean  the  ph3^cian,  135 

Without  I  have  licence  to  [expatiate] 
On  the  disease.    But,  my  good  lord,  more  Imefly, 
I  shall  declare  to  you  like  a  man  of  wisdom 
And  no  physician,  who  deal  all  in  simples. 
Why  men  are  melancholy.     First,  for  your  courtier —  140 

Sim.    It  concerns  us  all  to  be  attentive,  sir. 

Sel.    Your  sage  and  serious  courtier,  who  does  walk 
With  a  state  face,  as  he  had  dress'd  himself 
I'  th'  Emperor's  glass,  and  had  his  beard  tum'd  up 
By  the  irons  royal,  he  wiU  be  as  pensive  145 

As  stallion  after  [coition],  when  he  wants 


I 


48o  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  I 

Suits,  begging  suits,  I  mean.     [To  Simanthes]    MetMob, 

my  lord. 
You  are  grown  something  solemn  on  the  sudden. 
Since  your  monopolies  and  patents,  which 
Made  your  purse  swell  like  a  wet  sponge,  have  been-  150 

Reduc'd  to  th'  last  gasp.    Troth,  it  is  far  better 
To  confess  here  than  in  a  worser  place. 
Is  it  not  so  indeed  ? 

Abil.  Whate'er  he  does 

By  mine,  I'm  sure  h'as  hit  the  cause  from  whence 
Your  grief  springs.  Lord  Simanthes. 

SeL  No  Egyptian  soothsayer        155 

Has  truer  inspirations  than  your  small  courtier's 
From  causes  and  wants  manifold ;  as  when 
The  Emperor's  count'nance  with  propitious  noise 
Does  not  cry  chink  in  pocket,  no  repute  is 
With  mercer,  nor  with  tailor;  nay,  sometimes,  too,  160 

The  humour's  pregnant  in  him  when  repulse 
Is  given  him  by  a  beauty ;  I  can  speak  this, 
Though  from  no  Memphian  priest  or  sage  Chaldean, 
From  the  best  mistress,  gentlemen,  Experience. 
Last  night  I  had  a  mind  t'a  comely  seamstress,  165 

Who  did  refuse  me,  and  behold  ere  since 
How  like  an  ass  I  look. 

Entsr  Tarifa 

Tar,    What,  at  your  counsels,  lords  ?  The  great  Almanzor 
Requires  your  presence,  Mura ;  has  decreed 
The  war  for  Persia.     You,  my  graicious  lord,  -1*70 

Prince  AbilquaUt,  are  appointed  chief ; 
And  you,  brave  spirited  Abrahen,  an  assistant 
To  your  victorious  brother ;  you.  Lord  Mura, 
Destin'd  Lieutenant-General. 

Abil.  And  must 

I  march  against  the  foe,  without  thy  company  ?  175 

I  relish  not  th'  employment. 

Tar.  Alas,  my  lord  I 

Tarifa's  head's  grown  white  beneath  his  helmet ; 
And  your  good  father  thought  it  charity 
To  spare  mine  age  from  travel :  though  this  ease 
Will  be  more  irksome  to  me  than  the  toil  iSo 

Of  war  in  a  sharp  winter. 


Sc  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  481 

Abr.  [aside].  It  arrives 

Just  to  our  wish. — My  gracious  brother,  I 
Anon  shall  wait  on  you :   meantime,  valiant  Mura, 
Let  us  attend  my  father. 

Exeunt  Abrahen,  Mura,  Simanthes. 

Ahih  Good  Selinthus, 

Vouchsafe  awhile  your  absence,  I  shall  have  185 

Employment  shortly  for  your  trust. 

S$l,  Your  Grace 

Shall  have  as  much  power  to  command  Selinthus 
As  his  best  fancied  mistress. 
I  am  your  creature.  Exit 

Tar,  Now,  my  lord,  I  hope 

Y'are  cloth'd  with  all  those  resolutions  190 

That  usher  glorious  minds  to  brave  achievements. 
The  happy  Genius  on  your  youth  attendant 
Declares  it  built  for  victories  and  triumphs ; 
And  the  proud  Persian  monarchy,  the  sole 
Emulous  opposer  of  the  Arabic  greatness,  195 

Courts,  like  a  fair  bride,  your  imperial  arms. 
Waiting  t'invest  you  sovereign  of  her  beauties. 
Why  are  you  dull,  my  lord  ?    Your  cheerful  looks 
Should  with  a  prosperous  augury  presage 
A  certain  victory ;  when  you  droop  already,  200 

As  if  the  foe  had  ravish'd  from  your  crest 
The  noble  palm.     For  shame,  sir  1    Be  more  sprightly ; 
Your  sad  appearance,  should  they  thus  behold  you. 
Would  half  unsoul  your  army. 

Ahil.  'Tis  no  matter. 

Such  looks  best  suit  my  fortune.     Know,  Tarifa,  205 

I'm  undispos'd  to  manage  this  great  voyage. 
And  must  not  undertake  it. 

Tar,  Must  not,  sir  1 

Is't  possible  a  lovensick  youth,  whose  hopes 
Are  fix'd  on  marriage,  on  his  bridal  night 
Should  in  soft  slumbers  languish,  that  your  arms  210 

Should  rust  in  ease,  now  when  you  hear  the  charge, 
And  see  before  you  the  triumphant  prize 
Destin'd  t'adom  your  valour  ?     You  should  rather 
Be  fumish'd  with  a  power  above  these  passions. 
And  being  invok'd  by  the  mighty  charm  of  honour,  215 

Fly  to  achieve  this  war,  not  undertake  it. 
I'd  rather  you  had  said  Tarifa  lied, 

r.p.  n 


482  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  I 

Than  utter'd  such  a  sound,  harsh  and  unwelcome. 

Abil,    I  know  thou  lov'st  me  truly,  and  durst  I 
To  any  bom  of  woman  speak  my  mtentions,  220 

The  fatal  cause  which  does  withdraw  my  courage 
From  this  emplo3mient,  which  like  health  I  covet. 
Thou  shouldst  enjoy  it  fully.     But,  Tarifa, 
The  sad  discovery  of  it  is  not  fit 

For  me  to  utter,  much  less  for  thy  virtue  225 

To  be  acquainted  with. 

Tar,  Why,  my  lord  ? 

My  loyaity  can  merit  no  suspicion 
From  you  of  falsehood  :  whatsoe'er  the  cause  be. 
Or  good  or  wicked,  't  meets  a  trusty  silence. 
And  my  best  care  and  honest  counsel  shall  230 

Endeavour  to  reclaim  (or  to  assist  you 
If  it  be  good),  if  ill,  from  your  bad  purpose. 

Abil.    Why,  that  I  know,  Tarifa.     'Tis  the  love 
Thou  bear'st  to  honour  renders  thee  unapt 
To  be  partaker  of  those  resolutions  235 

That  by  compulsion  keep  me  from  this  voyage : 
For  they  with  such  iuevitable  sweetness 
Invade  my  sense  that,  though  in  their  performance 
My  fame  and  virtue  even  to  death  do  languish, 
I  must  attempt,  and  bring  them  unto  act,  240 

Or  perish  i'  th'  pursuance. 

Tar,  Heaven  avert 

A  mischief  so  prodigious  I    Though  I  wotdd  not 
With  over-saucy  boldness  press  your  counsels ; 
Yet  pardon,  sir,  my  loyalty  which,  timorous 
Of  your  lov'd  welfare,  must  entreat,  beseech  you  245 

Wiii  ardent  love  and  reverence,  to  disclose 
The  hidden  cause  that  can  estrange  your  courage 
From  its  own  Mars,  withhold  you  from  this  action 
So  much  allied  to  honour.     Pray  reveal  it : 
By  all  your  hopes  of  what  you  hold  most  precious,  250 

I  do  implore  it ;  for  my  faith  in  breeding 
Your  youth  in  war's  great  rudiments,  relieve 
Tarifa's  fears,  that  wander  into  strange 
Unwelcome  doubts  lest  some  ambitious  frenzy 
Gainst  your  imperial  father's  dignity  255 

Has  late  seduc'd  your  goodness. 

Abil,  No,  Tarifa, 

I  ne'er  durst  aim  at  that  unholy  height 


'  T 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  483 

In  viperons  wickedness ;  a  sin  less,  harmless,  ' 

(If  't  can  be  truly  term'd  one)  'tis  my  soul 

Labours  even  to  despair  with  :   't  fain  would  out,  260 

Did  not  my  blushes  interdict  my  languaige : 

'Tis  unchaste  love,  Tarifa  (nay,  take't  aU, 

And  when  thou  hast  it,  pity  my  misfortunes) » 

To  fair  Caropia,  the  chaste,  virtuous  wife 

To  surly  Mura. 

Tw,  What  a  fool  desire  is  1  265 

With  giant  strengths  it  makes  us  court  the  knowledge 
Of  hidden  mysteries,  which  once  reveal'd. 
Far  more  inconstant  than  the  air  it  fleets 
Into  new  wishes  that  the  coveted  secret 
Had  slept  still  in  oblivion. 

Ahil,  I  was  certain  270 

'Twould  fright  thy  innocence,  and  look  to  be 
Besieged  with  strong  dissuasions  from  my  purpose ; 
But  be  assured  that  I  have  tir'd  my  thoughts 
With  all  the  rules  that  teach  men  moral  goodness. 
So  to  reclaim  them  from  this  love-sick  looseness ;  275 

But  they  (like  wholesome  medicines  misapplied) 
Fac'd  their  best  operation,  fond  and  fruitiess. 
Though  I  as  well  may  hope  to  kiss  the  sunbeams 
'Cause  they  shine  on  me,  as  from  her  to  gain 
One  glance  of  comfort,  yet  my  mind,  that  pities  280 

Itself  with  constant  tenderness,  must  needs 
Revolve  the  cause  of  its  calamity. 
And  melt  i'  th'  pleasure  of  so  sweet  a  sadness. 

Tear.    Then  y'are  undone  for  ever,  sir,  undone 
Beyond  the  help  of  counsel  or  repentance.  .   285 

'Tis  most  ignoble  that  a  mind,  unshaken 
By  fear,  should  by  a  vain  desire  be  broken. 
Or  that  those  powers  no  labour  e'er  could  vanquish. 
Should  be  o'ercome  and  thrall'd  by  sordid  pleasuxe. 
Pray,  sir,  consider,  that  in  glorious  war,  290 

Which  makes  ambition  (by  base  men  termed  sin) 
A  big  and  gallant  virtue,  y'ave  been  nurs'd, 
Lull'd,  as  it  were,  into  your  infant  sleeps 
By  th'  surly  noise  o'  th'  trumpet,  which  now  summons 
Yon  to  victorious  use  of  your  endowments :  295 

And  shall  a  mistress  stay  you  ?    Such  a  one  too. 
As  to  attempt  than  war  ilself 's  more  daogeroua  1        •  • 

Ahil.    All  these  persuasions  are  to  as  much  purpose^ 


484  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  I 

As  you  should  strive  to  reinvest  with  peace, 

And  all  the  jo3r8  of  health  and  life,  a  soul  300 

Condenin'd  to  perpetuity  ol  torments. 

No,  my  Tarifa,  though  through  all  disgraces, 

Loss  of  my  honour,  fame,  nay,  hope  for  empire, 

I  should  be  forc'd  to  wade  to  obtain  her  love. 

Those  seas  of  mischief  would  be  pleasing  streams  505 

Which  I  would  haste  to  bathe  ia,  and  pass  through  them 

With  that  delight  thou  wouldst  to  victory. 

Or  slaves  longK^hain'd  to  th'  oar  to  sudden  freedom. 

Tar,    Were  you  not  Abilqualit,  from  this  time  then 
Our  friendships  (like  two  rivers  from  one  head  310 

Rising)  should  wander  a  dissever'd  course, 
And  never  meet  again,  unless  to  quarrel. 
Nay,  old  and  stiff  now  as  my  iron  garments. 
Were  you  my  son,  my  sword  should  teach  your  wildness 
A  swift  way  to  repentance.    Y'are  my  Prince,  315 

On  whom  all  hopes  depend ;   think  on  your  father. 
That  lively  image  of  majestic  goodness. 
Who  never  yet  wrong'd  matron  ia  his  lust. 
Or  man  ia  his  displeasure.     Pray  conjecture 
Your  father,  country,  army,  by  my  mouth  320 

Beseech  your  piety  to  an  early  pity 
Of  your  yet  unslain  innocence.    No  attention  ? 
Farewell ;  my  prayers  shall  wait  you,  though  my  counsels 
Be  thus  despis'd.     Farewell,  Prince  1  Exit 

Abil,  'Las,  good  man,  he  weeps ! 

Such  tears  I've  seen  fall  from  his  manly  eyes  325 

Once  when  [h]e  lost  a  battle.    Why  should  I 
Put  off  my  reason,  valour,  honour,  virtue. 
In  hopes  to  gain  a  beauty,  whose  possession 
Renders  me  more  uncapable  of  peace 

Than  I  am  now  I  want  it  ?    Like  a  sweet,  330 

Much  coveted  banquet,  'tis  no  sooner  tasted 
But  its  delicious  luxury's  forgotten ; 
Besides,  it  is  unlawful.     Idle  fool, 
There  is  no  law  but  what's  prescribed  by  love, 
Nature's  first  moving  organ  ;    nor  can  aught  335 

What  Nature  dictates  to  us  be  held  vicious. 
On  then,  my  soul,  and  destitute  of  feais. 
Like  an  adventurous  mariner  that  knows 
Storms  must  attend  him,  yet  daies  court  his  peril. 
Strive  to  obtain  this  happy  port.    Mesithes,  340 


Sc  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  4^5 

Love's  cunning  advocate,  does  for  me  besiege 

With  gifts  and  vows  her  chastity.    She  is 

Compass'd  with  flesh  that's  not  invuhierable. 

And  may  by  love's  sharp  darts  be  pierc'd.    They  stand 

Firm  whom  no  art  can  bring  to  love's  command.  345 

Enter  Abrahen 

Abr.    My  gracious  brother  t 

Abil,  Dearest  Abrahen,  welcome  I 

'Tis  certainly  decreed  by  our  dread  father, 
We  must  both  march  against  th'  insulting  foe. 
How  does  thy  youth,  yet  uninur'd  to  travel, 
Relish  the  emplo3rment  ? 

Abr,  War  is  sweet  to  those  350 

That  never  have  experienc'd  it.    My  youth 
Cannot  desire  in  that  big  art  a  nobler 
Tutor  than  you,  my  brother :    like  an  eaglet 
Following  her  dam,  I  shall  your  honour'd  steps 
Trace  through  all  dangers,  and  be  proud  to  borrow  355 

A  branch,  when  your  head's  covered  o'er  with  laurel. 
To  deck  my  humbler  temples. 

Abil.  I  do  know  thee 

Of  valiant,  active  soul ;    and  though  a  youth. 
Thy  forward  spirit  merits  the  command 

Of  chief,  rather  than  second  in  an  army.  360 

Would  heaven  our  royal  father  had  bestow'd 
On  thee  the  charge  of  general. 

Abr,  On  me,  sir  I 

Alas,  'tis  fit  I  first  should  know  those  arts 
That  do  distinguish  valour  from  wild  rashnesa 
A  general,  brother,  must  have  abler  nerves  365 

Of  judgment  than  in  my  youth  can  be  hop'd  for. 
Yourself,  already  like  a  flourishing  spring 
Teeming  with  early  victories,  the  soldier 
Expects  should  lead  them  to  new  triumphs,  as 
If  you  had  vanquish'd  fortune. 

Abil.  I  am  not  so  370 

Ambitious,  Abrahen,  of  particular  glories. 
But  I  would  have  those  whom  I  love  partake  them. 
This  Persian  war,  the  last  of  the  whole  East, 
Left  to  be  managed,  if  I  can  persuade 

The  gxeat  Almanzor,  shall  be  the  trophy  375 

Of  thy  yet  maiden  valour.    I  have  done 


486  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  I 

Enough  already  to  ixiform  succession 

That  Abilqualit  durst  on  fiercest  foes 

Run  to  fetch  conquest  home,  and  would  have  thy  name 

As  great  as  mine  in  arms,  that  history  380 

Might  register  our  family  abounded 

With  heroes  bom  for  victory. 

Abr,  'Tis  an  honour 

Which,  though  it  be  above  my  powers,  committed 
To  my  direction,  I  would  seek  to  manage 
With  care  above  my  years,  and  courage  equal  385 

To  his  that  dares  the  horrid'st  face  of  danger : 
But  'tis  your  noble  courtesy  would  thrust 
This  masc'line  honour  (far  above  his  merits) 
On  your  regardless  brother :    for  n^y  father, 
He  has  no  thought  tending  to  your  intentions ;  390 

Nor,  though  your  goodness  should  desire,  would  hardly 
Be  won  to  yield  consent  to  them. 

AhiL  Why,  my  Abrahen, 

We're  both  his  sons,  and  should  be  botii  alike 
Dear  to's  afiections ;    and  though  birth  hath  giyen  me 
The  larger  hopes  and  tities,  'twere  unnatural,  395 

Should  he  not  strive  t'  endow  thee  with  a  portion 
Apted  to  the  magnificence  of  his  ofispring. 
But  thou  perhaps  art  timorous  lest  thy  ^  first 
£;ssa3rs  of  valour  should  meet  fate  disastrous. 
The  bold  are  Fortune's  darlings.     If  thou  hast  400 

Courage  to  venture  on  this  great  employment. 
Doubt  not  I  shall  prevail  upon  our  father 
T'  ordain  thee  chief  in  this  brave,  hopeful  voyage. 

Ahr,    You  imagine  me 
Beyond  all  thought  of  gratitude,  and  doubt  not  405 

That  I'll  deceiye  your  trust.     The  glorious  ensigns 
Waving  i'  th'  air  once,  like  so  many  comets, 
Shall  speak  the  Persians'  funerals,  on  whose  ruins 
We'll  build  to  Fame  and  Victory  new  temples^ 
Which  shall  like  pyramids  preserve  our  memories  4x0 

When  we  are  chang'd  to  ashes. 

Ahil.  r.  Be  sure,  continue 

In  this  brave  mind ;  I'll  instantly  solicit 
Our  father  to  confirm  thee  in  the  charge 
Of  general.     I'll  about  it.  Exit 

Ahr.  Farewell,  gracious  brother  I 

This  haps  above  my  hopes.     'Las,  good  dull  fool,  415 


Scfi]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  487 

I  see  through  thy  intents,  clear  as  thy  soul 

Were  as  transparent  as  thin  air  or  crystal. 

He  would  have  me  remov'd,  march  with  the  army. 

That  he  meantime  might  make  a  sure  defeat 

On  our  aged  lather's  life  and  empire :    't  must  420 

Be  certain  as  the  light.     Why  should  not  his. 

With  equal  heat,  be,  like  my  thoughts,  ambitious  ? 

Be  they  as  harmless  as  the  pray'rs  of  virgins, 

I'll  work  his  ruin  out  of  his  intentions. 

He  like  a  thick  cloud  stands  'twixt  me  and  greatness,         425 

Greatness,  the  wise  man's  true  felicity. 

Honour's  direct  inheritance.     My  youth 

Will  quit  suspicion  of  my  subtle  practice  ; 

Then  have  I  surly  Mura  and  Simanthes, 

My  allies  by  my  dead  mother's  blood,  my  assistants,  430 

His  eunuch  too,  Mesithes,  at  my  service. 

Simanthes  shaU  inform  the  King  the  people 

Desire  Prince  Abilqualit's  stay ;    and  Mura, 

Whose  blunt  demeanour  renders  him  oraculous. 

Make  a  shrewd  inference  out  of  it.     He  is  my  half  brother  435 

Th'  other's  my  father ;    names,  mere  airy  titles  1 

Sovereignty's  only  sacred  ;    greatness  goodness  ; 

True  self-aifiEection  justice  ;    everything 

Righteous  that's  helpful  to  create  a  King. 

Ent&r  Mura,  Simanthes 

My  trusty  friends,  y'are  welcome ;  440 

Our  fate's  above  our  wishes  ;    AMlqualit, 
By  whatsoe'er  pow'r  mov'd  to  his  own  ruin. 
Would  fain  enforce  his  charge  of  general  on  me, 
And  stay  at  home. 

Sim.  Why,  how  can  this  conduce 

T'advance  our  purpose  ?  445 

Abr.  ^Tis  the  mainest  engine 

Could  ever  move  to  ruin  him.     Simanthes, 
You  shall  inform  our  father  'tis  the  people 
Out  of  their  tender  love  desires  his  stay. 
You,  Mura,  shall  infer  my  brother's  greatness 
With  [the]  people  out  of  it,  how  nice  it  is  and  dangerous.      450 
The  air  is  open  here ;    come,  we'll  discourse 
'Wiih  more  secure  privacy  our  purpose. 
Nothing's  unjust,  unsacred,  tends  to  advance 
Us  to  a  kingdom ;  that's  the  height  of  chance. 


488  REVENGE  FOR  HONOXJR  [Act  II 

ACTUS  SECUNDUS,  SCENA   I 

[A  Room  in  the  Couri] 

Enter  Almanzor,  Mura,  and  Simaathes 

Aim.    How  ?    Not  go,  Simanthes  ? 

Sim.  My  dread  Sovereign, 

I  speak  but  what  the  well-afiected  people 
Out  of  their  loyal  care  and  pious  duty 
Enjoin'd  me  utter ;    they  do  look  upon  him 
As  on  your  eldest  son  and  next  successor,  5 

And  would  be  loth  the  Persian  war  should  rob 
Their  eyes  of  light,  their  souls  of  joy  and  comfort, 
This  flourishing  empire  leave  as  it  were  widow'd 
Of  its  lov'd  spouse :    they  humbly  do  beseech 
Your  Majesty  would  therefore  destine  some  10 

More  fitting  general,  whose  loss  (as  Heaven 
Avert  such  a  misfortune  1),  should  it  happen, 
Might  less  concern  the  state. 

Aim.  'Tis  not  the  least 

Among  the  blessings  Heaven  has  shower'd  upon  us. 
That  we  are  happy  in  such  loving  subjects,  15 

To  govern  whom,  when  we  in  peace  are  ashes, 
We  leave  them  a  successor  whom  they  truly  reverence. 
A  loving  people  and  a  loving  sovereign 
Makes  kingdoms  truly  fortunate  and  flourishing. 
But  I  believe,  Simanthes,  their  intents,  20 

Though  we  confirm  them,  will  scarce  take  effect : 
My  Abilqualit  (like  a  princely  lion. 
In  view  of's  prey)  will  scarcely  be  o'ercome 
To  leave  the  honour  of  the  Persian  war, 

In's  hopes  already  vanquished  by  his  valour,  35 

And  rest  in  lazy  quiet,  while  that  triumph 
Is  ravish'd  by  another. 

Sim.  With  the  pardon 

Of  your  most  sacred  Majesty,  'tis  fit  then 
Your  great  commands  forbid  the  Prince's  voyage : 
Boldness  enforces  youth  to  hard  achievements  30 

Before  their  time,  makes  them  run  forth  like  lapwings 
From  their  warm  nest,  part  of  the  shell  yet  sticking 
Unto  their  downy  heads.    Sir,  good  success 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  489 

Is  oft  more  fatal  far  than  bad ;  one  wiiming 

Cast  from  a  flattering  die  tempting  a  gamester  35 

To  hazard  his  whole  fortunes. 

Mur.  This  is  dull. 

Fruitless  philosophy;  he  that  falls  nobly 
Wins  as  much  honour  by  his  loss  as  conquest. 

Sim.    This  rule  may  hold  well  among  common  men, 
But  not  'mong  princes.    Such  a  prince  as  ours  is,  40 

Who  knows  as  well  to  conquer  men's  aflections 
As  he  does  enemies,  should  not  be  exposed 
To  every  new  cause,  honourable  danger. 
Prince  Abilquaht's  fair  and  winning  carriage 
Has  stol'n  possession  of  the  people's  hearts ;  45 

They  dote  on  him  since  his  late  Spanish  conquest. 
As  new-made  brides  on  their  much-coveted  husbands ; 
And  they  would  pine  like  melancholy  turtles. 
Should  they  so  soon  lose  the  unvalued  object 
Both  of  their  love  and  reverence  :    howsoe'er,  50 

Whatever  your  awful  will,  sir,  shall  determine, 
As  Heaven,  is  by  their  strict  obedience 
Held  sacred  and  religious. 

Aim.  Good  Simanthes, 

Let  them  receive  our  thanks  for  their  true  care 
Of  our  dear  Abilquaht.    We'll  consider  55 

Of  their  request,  say. 

Sim.  Your  Highness'  humblest  creature  I     Exit 

Mur,    I  do  not  like  this. 

Aim.  Like  what,  valiant  Mura  ? 

We  know  thy  counsels  so  supremely  wise, 
And  thy  true  heart  so  excellently  faithful. 
That  whatsoe'er  displeases  thy  sage  judgment  60 

Almanzor's  wisdom  must  account  distasteful. 
What  is't  dislikes  thee  ? 

Mur.  Your  Majesty  knows  me 

A  downright  soldier,  I  afEect  not  words ; 
But  to  be  brief,  I  relish  not  your  son 

Should  (as  if  you  were  in  your  tomb  already)  65 

Engross  so  much  the  giddy  people's  favours. 
'Tis  neither  fit  for  him,  nor  safe  for  you 
To  suffer  it. 

Aim.  Why,  how  can  they,  Mura, 

Give  a  more  serious  testimony  of  reverence 
To  me  than  by  conferring  their  afEections,  70 


490  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  II 

Their  pious  wishes,  zealous  contemplations. 
On  him  that  sits  the  nearest  to  my  heart. 
My  Abilqualit,  in  whose  hopeful  virtues 
My  age  more  glor[ies]  than  in  all  my  conquests  ? 

Mur,    May  you  prove  fortunate  in  your  pious  care  73 

Of  the  Prince  AbUqualit.     But,  my  lord, 
Mura  is  not  so  prone  to  idle  language 
(The  parasite's  best  ornament)  to  utter 
Aught  but  what,  if  you'll  please  to  give  him  audience. 
He'll  show  you  a  blunt  reason  for. 

Aim,  Come,  I  see  80 

Into  thy  thoughts,  good  Mura ;    too  much  care 
Of  us  informs  thy  loyal  soul  with  fears 
The  Prince's  too  much  popularity 
May  breed  our  danger  :    banish  those  suspicions  ; 
Neither  dare  they  who  under  my  long  reign  85 

Have  been  triumphant  in  so  many  blessings, 
Have  the  least  thought  may  tend  to  disobedience ; 
Or  if  they  had,  my  Abilqualit's  goodness 
Would  ne'er  consent  with  them  to  become  impious. 

Mur,     'Tis  too  secure  a  confidence  betrays  90 

Minds  valiant  to  irreparable  dangers. 
Not  that  I  dare  invade  with  a  foul  thought 
The  noble  Prince's  loyalty ;    but,  my  lord, 
When  this  same  many-headed  beast,  the  people, 
Violent,  and  so  not  constant  in  affections,  95 

Subject  to  love  of  novelty  (the  sickness 
Proper  fall  human,  specially  light  natures), 
Do  magnify  with  too  immoderate  praises 
The  Prince's  actions,  dote  upon  his  presence, 
Nay,  chain  their  souls  to  th'  shadow  of  his  footsteps ;         100 
As  all  excesses  ought  to  be  held  dangerous, 
Especially  when  they  do  aim  at  sceptres. 
Their  too  much  dotage  speaks  you  in  their  wishes 
Are  dead  already,  that  their  darling  hope 
The  Prince  might  have  the  throne  once. 

Aim.  'Tis  confess'd,      105 

All  this  a  serious  truth. 

Mur,  Their  mad  applauses 

O'  th'  noble  Prince,  though  he  be  truly  virtuous. 
May  force  ambition  into  him,  a  mischief 
Seizing  the  soul  with  too  much  craft  and  sweetness, 
^. pride  or  lust  does  minds  unstaid  and  wanton  :  no 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  491 

'T  makes  men   like   poison'd   rats,    which   when    they've 

swallow'd 
The  pleasing  bane,  rest  not  until  they  drink, 
And  can  rest  then  much  less,  imtil  they  buxBt  with't. 

Aim,    Thy  words  are  still  oraculous. 

Mur,  Pray  then  ithink 

^th  what  an  easy  toil  the  haughty  Prince,  115 

A  demigod  by  th'  popular  acclamations. 
Nay,  the  world's  sovereign  in  the  vulgar  wishes. 
Had  he  a  resolution  to  be  wicked, 
Might  snatch  this  diadem  from  your  aged  temples  ? 
What  law  so  holy,  tie  of  blood. so  mighty,  120 

Which,  for  a  crown,  minds  sanctified  and  religious 
Have  not  presum'd  to  violate  ?     How  much  more  then 
May  the  soul-dazzling  glories  of  a  sceptre 
Work  in  his  youth,  whose  constitution's  fiery 
As  overheated  air,  and  has,  to  fan  it  125 

Into  a  flame,  the  breath  of  love  and  praises 
Blown  by  strong  thought  of  his  own  worth  and  actions. 

Aim.    No  more  of  this,  good  Murai. 

Mur,    They  dare  already  limit  your  intentions  ;      . 
Demand,  as  'twere,  with  cunning  zeal  (which,  rightly  130 

Interpreted,  is  insolence),  the  Prince's 
Abode  at  home.    I  will  not  say  it  is. 
But  I  guess  't  may  be  their  subtle  purpose 
While  we  abroad  fight  for  new  kingdoms'  purchase, 
Depriv'd  by  that  means  of  our  faithful  succouiB,  135- 

They  may  deprive  you  of  this  crown,  enforce 
Upon  the  Prince  this  diadem ;  which  however 
He  may  be  loath  t'accept,  being  once  possess'd  of  't. 
And  tasted  the  delights  of  supreme  greatness. 
He'll  be  more  loath  to  part  with.    To  prevent  this,  140 

Not  that  I  think  it  will,  but  that  may  happen, 
'Tis  fit  the  Prince  march.    I've  observed  in  him,  too. 
Of  late  a  sullen  melancholy,  whence  rising 
I'll  not  conjecture ;    only  I  should  grieve,  sir. 
Beyond  a  moderate  sorrow,  traitorous  practice  145' 

Should  take  that  from  you,  which  with  loyal  blood  •         / 

Ours  and  your  own  victorious  arms  have  purchas'di 
And  now  I  have  discharg'd  my  honest  conscience,  ,  ' 

Censure  on't  as  you  please  ;    henceforth  I'm  silent.  .     ; ' 

A  Im.    Would  l^ou  hadst  been  so  now  1  Thy  loyal  feaiv         1 50 
Have  made  me  see  how  miserable  a  king  is 


493  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  II 

Whose  rule  depends  cm  the  vain  people's  sufErage. 

Black  now  and  horrid  as  the  face  of  storms 

Appears  all  Abilqualit's  lovely  virtues 

Because  to  me  they  only  make  him  dangerous,  155 

And  with  great  terror  shall  behold  those  actiofis 

Which  with  delight  before  we  view'd,  and  dotage ; 

Like  mariners  that  bless  the  peaceful  seas. 

Which,  when  suspected  to  grow  up  tempestuous. 

They  tremble  at.    Though  he  may  still  be  virtuous,  160 

'Tis  wisdom  in  us,  to  him  no  injustice. 

To  keep  a  vigilant  eye  o'er  his  proceedings 

And  the  wild  people's  purposes. 

EnUr  AbOquaht 

Abilqualit ! 
Come  to  take  your  leave,  I  do  conjecture. 

AM.     Rather,  sir,  to  beg  165 

Your  gracious  licence  I  may  still  at  home 
Attend  your  dread  commands,  and  that  you'd  please 
To  nominate  my  hopeful  brother  Abrahen 
(In  lieu  of  me)  chief  of  your  now  raised  forces 
For  th'  Pexsian  expedition.  170 

Aim.  Dare  you,  sir. 

Presume  to  make  this  suit  to  us  ? 

Abil,  Why,  my  royal  lord, 

I  hope  this  cannot  pull  your  anger  on 
Your  most  obedient  son ;    a  true  afiEection 
To  the  young  Prince,  my  brother,  did  beget 
This  my  request ;    I  willingly  would  have  175 

His  youth  adom'd  with  glory  of  this  conquest. 
No  tiree  bears  fruit  in  autumn,  'less  it  blossom 
First  in  the  spring ;    'tis  fit  he  were  acquainted 
In  these  soft  yeaiB  with  mihtary  action. 

That  when  grown  perfect  man,  he  may  grow  up  too  180 

Perfect  in  warlike  discipline. 

Aim.  Hereafter 

We  shall  by  your  appointment  guide  our  counsels. 
Why  do  you  not  intreat  me  to  resign 
My  crown,  that  you,  the  people's  much-lov'd  minion, 
May  with't  impale  your  glorious  brow  ?     Sir,   h^icefortii,  185 
Or  know  your  duty  better,  or  your  pride 
Shall  meet  our  just-wak'd  anger.    To  your  charge, 
And  march  with  speed,  or  you  shall  Imow  what  'tis 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  493 

To  disobey  our  pleasure.    When  y'are  king. 

Learn  to  command  your  subjects ;    I  will  mine,  sir.  190 

You  know  your  charge,  perform  it. 

Exit  Almanzor  and  Mura 

AbiL  I  have  done. 

Our  hopes,  I  see,  resemble  much  the  sun. 
That  rismg  and  declining  cast[s]  large  shadows; 
But  when  his  beams  are  dress'd  in*s  midday  brightness, 
Yields  none  at  all :  when  they  are  farthest  fr(»n  195 

Success,  their  gilt  reflection  does  display 
The  largest  shows  of  events  fair  and  prosperous. 
With  what  a  settled  confidence  did  I  promise 
Myself  my  stay  here,  Mura's  wish'd  departure  I 
When  'stead  of  these,  I  find  my  father's  wrath  '  200 

Destroying  mine  intentions.     Such  a  fool 
Is  self-compassion,  soothing  us  to  faith 
Of  what  we  wish  should  hap,  while  vain  desire 
Of  things  we  have  not,  makes  us  quite  forget 
Those  we're  possess'd  of. 

EnUr  Abrahen 

Abr.  [aside]  Alone  the  engine  works  205 

Beyond  or  hope  or  credit.    How  I  hug 
With  vast  delight,  beyond  that  of  stolen  pleasures 
Forbidden  lovers  taste,  my  darling  mistress. 
My  active  brain  1     If  I  can  be  thus  subtle 
While  a  young  serpent,  when  grown  up  a  dragon  210 

How  glorious  shall  I  be  in  cunning  practice  1 — 
My  gracious  brother  I 

AbiL  Gentle  Abrahen,  I 

Am  griev'd  my  power  cannot  comply  my  promise ; 
My  father's  so  averse  from  granting  my 

Request  concerning  thee,  that  with  angry  frowns  2x5 

He  did  express  rather  a  passionate  rage 
Than  a  refusal  civil,  or  accustom'd 
To  his  indulgent  disposition. 

Abr,  He's  our  father. 

And  so  the  tyrant  custom  doth  enforce  us 
To  yield  him  that  which  fools  call  natural,  220 

When  wise  men  know  'tis  more  than  servile  duty, 
A  slavish,  blind  dbedience  to  his  pleasure. 
Be  it  nor  just,  nor  honourable. 


49*  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  II 

Abil,  O  my  Abrahen, 

These  sounds  are  nnharmonious,  as  unlook'd-for 
From  thy  unblemished  innocence ;  though  he  could  225 

Put  ofE  paternal  piety,  't  gives  no  privilege 
For  us  to  wander  from  our  filial  duty ; 
Though  harsh,  and  to  our  natures  much  unwelcome 
Be  his  decrees,  like  those  of  Heaven,  we  must  not 
Presume  to  question  them. 

Abr.  Not  if  they  concern  230 

Our  lives  and  fortunes  ?  'Tis  not  for  myself 
I  urge  these  doubts ;  but  'tis  for  you,  who  are 
My  brother;  and^  I  hope,  must  be  my  sovereign, 
My  fears  grow  on  me  almost  to  distraction ; 
Our  father's  age  betrays  him  to  a  dotage  235 

Which  may  be  dang'rous  to  your  future  safety ; 
He  does  suspect  your  loyalty. 

AbiL  How,  Abrahenl 

Abr.     1  knew  'twould  start  your  innocence  ;  but  'tis  truth, 
A  sad  and  serious  truth ;  nay,  his  suspicion 
Almost  arriv'd  into  a  settled  faith  240 

That  y'are  ambitious. 

AbiL  *Tis  impossible  ! 

.  Abr,    The  glorious  shine  of  your  illustrious  virtues 
Are  grown  too  bright  and  dazzling  for  his  eyes 
To  look  on,  as  he  ought,  with  admiration ; 
And  he  with  fear  beholds  them,  as  it  were,  245 

Through  a  perspective  where  each  brave  action 
Of  yours  survey'd  though  at  remotest  distance. 
Appears  far  greater  than  it  is.     In  brief. 
That  love  which  you  have  purchas'd  from  the  people, 
That  sing  glad  hymns  to  your  victorious  fortunes,  250 

Betrays  you  to  his  hate ;  and  in  this  voyage. 
Which  he  enforces  you  to  undertake, 
Jf,p  has  set  spies  upon  you. 

Abil.  'Tis  so;  afiSlictions 

Do  fall  like  hailstones,  one  no  sooner  drops, 
But  a  whole  shower  does  follow.     I  observ'd  255 

Indeed,  my  Abrahen,  that  his  looks  and  language 
Was  dress'd  in  unaccustom'd  clouds,  but  did  not 
Imagine  they'd  presaged  so  fierce  a  tempest. 
Ye  gods !  why  do  you  give  us  gifts  and  graces. 
Share  your  own  attributes  with  men,  your  virtues,  .    260 

When  they  betray  them  to'  worse  hate  than  vices  ? 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  495 

Bat.  Abrahen,  prithee  reconfirm  my  fears 

By  testimonial  how  this  can  be  truth ; 

For  yet  my  innocence  with  too  credulous  trust 

Soothes  up  my  soul,  our  father  should  not  thus  265 

Put  that  ofi  which  does  make  him  so,  his  sweetness, 

To  feed  the  irregular  flames  of  false  suspicions 

And  soul-tormenting  jealousies. 

Ahr,  Why,  to  me. 

To  me,  my  lord,  he  did  with  strong  injunctions 
Give  a  solicitous  charge  to  overlook  your  actions.  -270 

'  My  Abrahen/  quoth  he,  '  I'm  not  so  unhappy 
That  like  thy  brother  thou  shouldst  be  ambitious. 
Who  does  afiect,  'fore  thy  ag'd  father's  ashes. 
With  greedy  lust  my  Empire.     Have  a  strict 
And  cautious  diligence  to  observe  his  carriage;  275 

'Twill  be  a  pious  care.'     Mov'd  with  the  base 
Indignity  that  he  on  me  should  force 
The  office  of  a  spy, — ^your  spy,  my  noble 
And  much-lov'd  brother  1 — ^my  best  manhood  scarce 
Could  keep  my  angry  tears  in ;  I  resolv'd  2S0 

I  was  in  duty  boimd  to  give  you  early 
Intelligence  of  his  unjust  intentions. 
That  you  in  wisdom  might  prevent  all  dangers 
Might  fall  upon  you  from  them  like  swift  lightning. 
Killing  'cause  they  invade  with  sudden  fierceness.  .  295 

AhiL    In  afflicting  me  misery  is  grown  witty. 

Abr.  Nay,  besides,  sir, 

The  sullen  Mura  has  the  self-same  charge  too 
Consign'd  and  settled  on  him ;  which  his  blind 
Duty  will  execute.     O  brother,  your 

Soft  passive  nature  does,  like  jet  on  fire  290 

When  oil's  cast  on't,  extinguish :  otherwise . 
This  base  suspicion  would  inflame  your  suflerance, 
Nay,  make  the  purest  loyalty  rebellious. 
However,  though  your  too  religious  piety 
Forces  you  'ndure  this  foul  disgrace  with  patience,  295 

Look  to  your  safety,  brother,  that  dear  safety 
Which  is  not  only  yours,  but  your  whole  Empire's : 
For  my  part,  if  a  faithful  brother's  service 
May  aught  avail  you,  though  against  our  father, 
Since  he  can  be  so  unnaturally  suspicious,  300 

As  your  own  thoughts  command  it. 


496  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  II 


EnUr  SelinthuB  and 

Ssl.  Come,  I  know. 

Although  th'ast  lost  some  implements  of  manhood 
liay  make  thee  gracious  in  the  sight  of  woman. 
Yet  th'ast  a  little  engine  call'd  a  tongue. 
By  which  thou  canst  overcome  the  nicest  female  305 

In  the  behalf  of  friend.     In  sooth,  you  eunuchs 
May  well  be  styl'd  pimps-royal  for  the  skill 
You  have  in  quaint  procurement. 

Mas,  Your  lordship's  merry. 

And  would  enforce  on  me  what  has  been  your  office 
Far  oftener  than  the  cunning'st  squire  belonging  310 

To  the  smock  transitory.    May't  please  your  Highness — 

[Whispers  to  Abilqualit] 

Abil,    Ha,  Mesithes  t 

Abr.  [iiside]    His  countenance  varies  strangely,  some  affair 
The  eunuch  gives  him  notice  of,  't  should  seem. 
Begets  much  pleasure  in  him. 

Abil,  Is  this  truth  ?  315 

Mes.    Else  let  me  taste  your  anger. 

Abil.  My  dear  Abrahen, 

We'll  march  to-night,  prithee  give  speedy  notice 
To  our  Ueutenant  Mura  to  collect 
The  forces  from  their  several  quarters  and 
Draw  them  into  battalia  on  the  plain  320 

Behind  the  city ;  lay  a  strict  command 
He  stir  not  from  the  ensigns  till  ourself 
Arrive  in  person  there.     Be  speedy,  brother, 
A  Uttle  hasty  business  craves  our  presence, 
We  will  anon  be  with  you,  my  Mesithes.  325 

Exeunt  Abilqualit  and  Mesithes 

Sel.    Can  your  Grace  imagine 
Wh[i]ther  his  Highness  goes  now  ? 

Abr.  No,  Selinthus ; 

Canst  thou  conjecture  at  the  eunuch's  business  ? 
Whate'er  it  was,  his  countenance  seem'd  much  alter'd  : 
I'd  give  a  talent  to  have  certain  knowledge  330 

What  was  Mesithes'  message. 

Sel.  I'll  inform  you 

At  a  far  easier  rate.    Mesithes'  business 
Certes  concem'd  a  limber  petticoat, 
And  the  smock  soft  and  slippery ;  on  my  honour. 
Has  been  providing  for  the  Prince  some  female,  335 


Sc.  ij  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  497 

That  he  takes  his  leave  of  ladies'  flesh 
Ere  his  departure. 

Ahr.  Not  improbable. 

It  may  be  so. 

Sel,  Nay,  certain,  air,  it  is  so: 

And  I  believe  your  little  body  earns 

After  the  same  sport.     You  were  once  reported  340 

A  wag  would  have  had  business  of  engendering 
With  surly  Mura's  lady ;  and  men  may 
Conjecture  y'are  no  chaster  than  a  vot'ry : 
Yet,  though  she  would  not  solace  your  desires. 
There  are  as  handsome  ladies  will  be  proud  345 

To  have  your  Grace  inoculate  their  stocks 
With  your  graft-royal. 

Ahr.  Thou  art  Selinthus  still, 

And  wilt  not  change  thy  humour.    I  must  go 
And  find  our  Mura ;  so  farewell,  Selinthus ; 
Thou  art  not  for  these  wars,  I  know.  Exit 

Sel.  .    No,  truly,  350 

Nor  yet  for  any  other,  'less  't  be  on 
A  naked  yielding  enemy ;  though  there  may 
Be  as  hot  service  upon  such  a  foe 
As  on  those  clad  in  steel :  the  little  squadron 
We  civil  men  assault  body  to  body,  355 

Oft  carry  wild-fire  about  them  privately. 
That  singes  us  i'  th'  service  from  the  crown 
Even  to  the  sole,  nay,  sometimes  hair  and  all  ofl. 
But  these  are  transitory  perils. 

Enter  Gaselles,  Osman 

Cousins, 
I  thought  you  had  been  dancing  to  the  drum ;  360 

Your  General  has  given  order  for  a  march 
This  night,  I  can  assure  you. 

Gas.  It  is,  cousin. 

Something  of  the  soonest ;  but  we  are  prepared 
At  an  times  for  the  journey. 

Ssl,  To-morrow  morning 

May  serve  the  turn  though.     Hark  you,  cousins  mine  ;        365 
If  in  this  Persian  war  you  chance  to  take  a 
Handsome  she-captive,  pray  you  be  not  unmindful 
Of  us  your  friends  at  home ;  I  will  disburse 
Her  ransom,  cousins,  for  I've  a  month's  mind 

CD.W.  X  K 


498  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  II 

To  try  if  strange  flesh,  or  that  of  our  own  conntry,  370 

Has  the  completer  relish. 

Os,  We  will  accomplish 

Thy  pleasure,  noble  cousin. 

Sel.  But  pray  do  not 

Take  the  first  say  of  her  yourselves.     I  do  not 
Love  to  walk  after  any  of  my  kindred 
I'  th'  path  of  copulation. 

Gas,  The  first  fruits  375 

Shall  be  thy  own,  dear  coz.     But  shall  we  part 
(Never  perhaps  to  meet  again)  with  dry 
Lips,  my  right  honour'd  coz  ? 

Sel  By  no  means, 

Though  by  the  Alkoran  wine  be  forbidden. 
You  soldiers,  in  that  case,  make't  not  your  faith.  380 

Drink  water  in  the  camp,  when  you  can  purchase 
No  other  liquor ;  here  you  shall  have  plenty 
Of  wine,  old  and  delicious.     I'll  be  your  leader. 
And  bring  you  on,  let  who  will  bring  you  off. 
To  the  encounter,  come,  let  us  march,  cousins.  385 

Exeunt  omnes 
Song 

SCENA  SECUNDA 
[A  Room  in  the  House  of  Mura] 

Enter  Abilqualit,  Caropia,  and  Mesithes,  Perilinda 

Car,    No  more,  my  gracious  lord,  where  real  love  is. 
Needless  are  all  expressions  ceremonious  : 
The  amorous  turtles,  that  at  first  acquaintance 
Strive  to  express  in  murmuring  notes  their  loves. 
Do  when  agreed  on  their  affections  change  5 

Their  chirps  to  billing. 

AM,  And  in  feather'd  arms 

Incompass  mutually  their  gaudy  necks. 

[Embracing  Caropia] 

Mes,    How  do  you  like 
These  love  tricks,  Perilinda  ? 

Per.  Very  well ; 

But  one  may  sooner  hope  from  a  dead  man  xo 

To  receive  kindness,  than  from  thee»  an  eunuch* 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  499 

Yoa  are  the  coldest  creatures  in  the  bodies ;         ... 
No  snow-balls  like  yon.' 

Mes,  We  must  needs,  who  have  not 

That  which  like  fire  should  warm  our  constitutions* 
The  instruments  of  copulation,  girl,  15 

Our  toys  to  please  the  ladies. 

Ahil.    Caropia,  in  your  weU-becoming  pity 
Of  my  extreme  afGUctions  and  stem  sufEerings 
You've  shown  that  excellent  mercy  as  must  render 
Whatever  action  you  can  fix  on  virtuous.  20 

But,  lady,  I  till  now  have  been  your  tempter. 
One  that  desir'd,  hearing  the  brave  resistsince 
You  made  my  brother  when  he  woo'd  your  love. 
Only  to  boast  the  glory  of  a  conquest 

Which  seem'd  impossible ;  now  I  have  gain'd  it,  25 

By  being  vanquisher  I  myself  am  vanquish'd, 
Your  everlasting  captive. 

Car,  Then  the  thraldom 

Will  be  as  prosperous  as  the  pleasing  bondage 
Of  palms  that  flourish  most  when  bow'd  down  fastest. 
Constraint  makes  sweet  and  easy  things  laborious,  30 

When  love  makes  greatest  miseries  seem  pleasures. 
Yet  'twas  ambition,  sir,  join'd  with  affection. 
That  gave  me  up  a  spoil  to  your  temptations. 
I  was  resolv'd  if  ever  I  did  make 

A  breach  on  matrimonial  faith,  't  should  be  35 

With  him  that  was  the  darling  of  kind  Fortune 
As  well  as  liberal  Nature,  who  possess'd 
The  height  of  greatness  to  adorn  his  beauty; 
Which  since  they  both  conspire  to  make  you  happy, 
I  thought  'twould  be  a  greater  sin  to  suffer  40 

Your  hopeful  person,  bom  to  sway  this  Empire, 
In  love's  hot  flames  to  languish  by  refusal 
To  a  consuming  fever  than  t'  infringe 
A  vow  which  ne'er  proceeded  from  my  heart  •• 

When  I  unwillingly  made  it. 

Abil.  And  may  break  it  45 

With  confidence,  secure  from  the  least  guilt, 
As  if  t  had  only  in  an  idle  dream 
Been  by  your  fancy  ;^hted.     Madam,:  there 
Can  be  no  greater  misery  in  love 

Than  separation  from  the  object  which  50 

We  affect;  and  such  is  our  misfortune,  we 


500  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acxin 

Most  i'  th'  infancy  of  our  desires 
Breathe  at  unwelcome  distance ;  i'  th'  meantime 
Let's  make  good  nse  of  the  most  precious  minutes 
We  have  to  spend  together. 

Car.   .  Else  we  were  55 

Unworthy  to  be  titled  lovers ;  but 
I  fear  loath'd  Mura  may  with  swift  approach 
Disturb  our  happiness. 

Ahil,  By  my  command 

He's  must'ring  up  our  forces.     Yet,  Mesithes, 
Go  you  to  Abrahen,  and  with  intimations  60 

From  us,  strengthen  our  charge.    Come,  my  Caropia, 
Love's  wars  are  harmless,  for  whoe'er  does  yield 
Gains  as  much  honour  as  who  wins  the  field. 


ACTUS  TERTIUS,  SCENA   I 

[Anoth&r  Room  in  the  House  of  Mura] 

Enter  Abilqualit  and  Caropia,  as  rising  from  bed ;  Abrahen  without, 

Perilinda 

Abr,  [withouf].    Open  the  door  I    I  must  and  will  have 
entrance 
Unto  the  Prince,  my  brother.     As  you  love 
Your  life  and  safety  and  that  lady's  honour. 
Whom  you  are  lodg'd  in  amorous  twines  with,  do  not 
Deny  me  entrance  to  you.     I  am  Abrahen,  5 

Your  loyal  brother  Abrahen. 

Abil.  'Tis  his  voice. 

And  there  can  be  no  danger  in't,  Caropia. 
Be  not  dismay'd,  though  we're  to  hini  discover'd. 
Your  fame  shall  taste  no  blemish  by't.     [Enter  Abrahen] 

Now,  brother, 
'Tis  something  rude  in  you  thus  violently  10 

To  press  upon  our  privacies. 

Abr.  My  affection 

Shall  be  my  advocate,  and  plead  my  care 
Of  your  lov'd  welfare ;  as  you  love  your  honour. 
Haste  from  this  place,  or  you'll  betray  the  lady 
To  ruin  most  inevitable.     Her  husband  13 

Has  notice  of  your  being  here,  and's  coming 


Sa  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  501 

On  wings  of  jealousy  and  desperate  rage 

To  intercept  yon  in  your  close  delights. 

In  brief,  I  overheard  a  trusty  servant 

Of  his  i'  th'  pamp  come  and  declare  your  Highness  90 

Was  private  with  Caropia ;  at  which  tidings 

The  sea  with  greater  haste  when  vex'd  with  tempests, 

Sudden  and  boisterous,  flies  not  towards  the  shore, 

Than  he  intended  homewards.     He  by  this 

Needs  must  have  gain'd  the  city ;  for  with  all  my  power    25 

I  hasted  hitherward,  that  by  your  absence 

You  might  prevent  his  view  of  you. 

AbiL  Why  ?  The  slave 

Dare  not  invade  my  person,  had  he  found  me 
In  fair  Caropia's  arms :  'twould  be  ignoble, 
Now  I  have  caus'd  her  danger,  should  I  not  V9 

Defend  her  from  his  violence.     I'll  stay 
Though  he  come  arm'd  with  thunder. 

Abr.  That  will  bo 

A  certain  means  to  ruin  her :  to  me 
[Commit]  that  cure,  I'll  stand  between  the  lady 
And  Mura's  fury,  when  your  very  sight,  35 

Qiving  fresh  fire  to  th'  injury,  will  incense  him 
Gainst  her  beyond. all  palience. 

Car.  Nay,  besides. 

His  violent  wrath,  breaking  through  his  allegianoe. 
May  riot  on  your  peison.    Dear  my  lord, 
Withdraw  yourself ;  there  may  be  some  -excuse,  40 

When  you  are  absent,  thought  on  to  take  ofi 
Mura's  suspudon :  by  our  loves,  depart, 
I  do  beseech  you.    Hapless  I  was  bom 
To  be  most  miserable. 

AbiL  You  shall  overrule  me. 

Better  it  is  for  him  with  unhallowed  hands  45 

To  act  a  sacrilege  on  our  Prophet's  tomb 
Than  to  profane  this  purity  with  the  least 
Offer  of  injury :  be  careful,  Abrahen, 
To  thee  I  leave  my  heart.     Farewell,  Caropia, 
Your  tears  enfiozce  my  absence.  Exit  Abilqualit 

Abr,  Pray  haste*,  my  lord,         50 

Lest  you  should  meet  the  enrag'd  Mura.    Now,  madam,  - 
Where  are  the  boasted  glories  of  that  virtue. 
Which  like  a  faithful  fort  withstood  my  batt'ries  ? 
Demolished  no^^  and  ruin'd  they  appear. 


502  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  III 

Like  a  fair  building  tottered  from  its  base  55 

By  an  unruly  whirlwind,  and  are  now 
Instead  of  love  the  objects  of  my  pity. 

Car.    I'm1>ound  to  thank  you,  sir  ;  yet  credit  me, 
My  sin's  so  pleasing  't  cannot  meet  repentance. 
Were  Mura  here,  and  arm'd  with  all  the  horrozB  60 

Rage  could  invest  his  powers  with,  not  forgiv^i 
Hermits  with  greater  peace  shall  haste  to  death. 
Than  I  to  be  the  mart3n:  of  this  cause. 
Which  I  so  love  and  reverence. 

Ahf,  'Tis  a  nobie 

And  well'-becoming  constancy,  and  merits  65 

A  lover  of  those  supreme  eminent  graces, 
That  do  like  full  winds  swell  the  glorious  sails 
Of  Abilqualit's  dignity  and  beauty ! 
Yet,  madam,  let  me  tell  you,  though  I  could  not 
Envy  my  brother's  happiness,  if  he  70 

Could  have  enjoy 'd  your  priceless  love  with  safety 
Free  from  discovery,  I  am  afflicted 
Beyond  a  moderate  sorrow,  that  my  youth 
Which  with  as  true  a  zeal,  courted  your  love» 
Should  appear  so  contemptible  to  receive  75 

A  killing  scorn  from  you  :  yet  I  forgive  you. 
And  do  so  much  respect  your  peace,  I  wish 
You  had  not.  sinn'd  so  carelessly  to  be 
Betray'd  i'  th'  first  fruitions  of  your  wishes 
To  your  suspicious  husband. 

Car,  'Tis  a  fate,  sir,  80 

Which  I  must  stand,  though  it  come  dress'd  in  fJaineB, 
Killing  as  circular  fire,  and  as  prodigious 
As  death-presaging  comets :  there's  that  strength 
In  love,  can  change  the  pitchy  face  of  dangers 
To  pleasing  forms,  make  ghastly  fears  seem  beauteous.  85 

And  I'm  resolv'd,  since  the  sweet  Prince  is  free 
From  Mura's  anger  which  might  have  been  fatal 
If  he  should  here  have  found  him,  unresistless 
I  dare  his  utmost  fury. 

Ahr,  'Twill  bring  death  with't. 

Sure  as  stifling  damp ;  and  'twere  much  pity  90 

So  sweet  a  beauty  should  unpitied  fall, 
Betray'd  to  endless  infamy ;  your  husband 
Knows  only  that  my  brother  in  your  chamber 
Was  entertained ;  the  servant  that  betray'd  yoa» 


Sc..i3  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  503 

Curse  on  his  diligence !  could  not  affirm  95 

He  saw  you  twin'd  together :  yet  it  is 
Death  by  the  law,  you  know,  for  any  lady 
At  such  an  hour,  and  in  her  husband's  absence. 
To  entertain  a  stranger. 

Car,  'Tis  considered,  sir; 

And  since  I  cannot  live  to  enjoy  his  love,  100 

I'll  meet  my  death  as  willingly  as  I 
Met  Abilqualit's  dear  embraces. 

Abr.  That 

Were  too  severe  a  cruelty.    Live,  Caropia, 
Till  the  kind  destinies  take  the  loath'd  Miira 
To  their  eternal  niansions,  till  he  fall  105 

Either  in  war  a  sacrifice  to  Fortune, 
Or  else  by  stratagem  take  his  destruction 
From  angry  Abilqualit,  whose  fair  Empress 
You  were  created  for :  there  is  a  mean  yet 
To  save  th'  opinion  of  your  honour  spotless  no 

As  that  of  virgin  innocence,  nay,  to  preserve 
(Though  he  doth  know,  as  certainly  he  must  do, 
My  brother  have  enjoy'd  thee),  thee  still  precious 
In  his  deluding  fancy. 

Car.  Let  me  adore  you 

If  you  can  give  effect  to  your  good  purpose :  115 

But  'tis  impossible. 

Abr.  With  as  secure  an  ease 

'T  shall  be  accomplished  as  the  blest  desires 
Of  uncrossed  lovers ;  you  shall  with  one  breath 
Dissolve  these  mists  that  with  contagious  darkness 
Threaten  the  lights  both  of  your  life  and  honour.  '  120 

Affirm  my  brother  ravish'd  you. 

Car.  How,  my  lord  I 

Abr.    Obtained  by  violence  entry  into  your  chamber. 
Where  his  big  lust,  seconded  by  force, 
Despite  of  yours  and  your  maid's  weak  resistance 
Surprised  your  honour  ;   when't  shall  come  to  question,         125 
My  brother  cannot  so  put  off  the  truth. 
He  owes  his  own  affection  and  your  whiteness. 
But  to  acknowledge  it  a  rape. 

Car.  And  so 

By  saving  mine,  betray  his  fame  and  safety 
To  the  law's  danger  and  your  father's  justice,  130 

Which  with  impartial  doom  will  most  severely 
Sentence  the  Prince,  although  his  soni 


504  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  III 

Ahr.  Your  fears 

And  too  affectionate  tenderness  will  ruin 
All  that  my  care  has  builded. — [Aside\     Sure,  Mesithes 
Has  (as  my  charge  enjoin'd  him)  made  relation  135 

To  him  of  Abilqaalit's  action.--{Enl0r  Mnra]    See  your 

husband  1 
Resolve  on't,  or  y'are  miserable. 

Mftr.  Furies  I 

Where  is  this  lustful  prince,  and  this  lascivious 
Strumpet  ?  Ha,  Abrahen  here  1 

Abr.  Good  cousm  Mura, 

Be  not  so  passionate,  it  is  your  Prince  140 

Has  wrought  your  injury ;  resolve  to  bear 
Your  crosses  like  a  man :  the  great'st  afflictions 
Should  have  the  greatest  fortitude  in  their  sufi'rings 
From  minds  resolv'd  and  noble.     'Las  poor  lady  1 
'Twas  not  her  fault ;  his  too  unruly  lust  145 

'Tis,  has  destro3r*d  her  purity. 

Mur.  Ha,  in  tears  1 

Are  these  the  livery  of  your  feais  and  penitence. 
Or  of  your  sorrows,  minion,  for  being  robb'd 
So  soon  of  your  adulterer  ? 

Ahr,  Fie,  your  passion 

Is  too  unmannerly ;  you  look  upon  her  150 

With  eyes  of  rage,  when  you  with  grief  and  pity 
Ought  to  survey  her  innocence.     My  brother, 
Degenerate  as  he  is  from  worth,  and  merely 
The  beast  of  lust,  what  fiends  would  fear  to  violate 
Has  with  rude  insolence  destroyed,  her  honour,  155 

By  him  inhuman  ravished. 

Car.  Good  sir,  be 

So  merciful  as  to  set  free  a  wretch 
From  loath'd  mortality,  whose  life's  so  great 
And  hateful  burden  now  sh'as  lost  her  honour; 
'Twill  be  a  friendly  charity  to  deliver  160 

Her  from  the  torment  of  it. 

Muf.  That  I  could 

Contract  the  soul  of  universal  rage 
Into  this  swelling  heart,  that  it  might  be 
As  full  of  poisonous  anger  as  a  dragon's 

When  in  a  toil  ensnar'd.     Caropia  ravished  t  165 

Methinks  the  horror  of  the  sound  should  fright 
To  everlasting  ruin  the  whole  world. 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  505 

Start  Nature's  Genius. 

Abr.  Gentle  madam,  pray 

Withdraw  yourself ;  your  sight,  till  I  have  wrought 
A  cure  upon  his  temper,  will  but  add  170 

To  his  aflUction. 

Car,  You're  as  my  good  angel : 

I'll  follow  your  directions.  Exit 

Abr,  Cousin  Mura, 

I  thought  a  person  of  your  mascaUne  temper. 
In  dangers  foster'd,  where  perpetual  terroxs 
Have  been  your  playfellows,  would  not  have  resented  175 

With  such  effeminate  passion  a  disgrace. 
Though  ne'er  so  huge  and  hideous. 

Mur.  I  am  tame. 

Collected  now  in  all  my  feiculties. 
Which  are  so  much  oppress'd  with  injuries, 
They've  lost  the  anguish  of  them ;  can  you  think,  sir,  180 

When  all  the  winds  fight,  the  enrag'd  billows 
That  use  to  imprint  on  the  black  lips  of  clouds 
A|thousand  briny  kisses,  can  lie  still 
As  in  a  lethargy ;  that  when  baths  of  oil 
Are  pour'd  upon  the  wild,  irregular  flames  185 

In  populous  cities,  that  they'll  then  extinguish  ? 
Your  mitigations  add  but  seas  to  seas. 
Give  matter  to  my  fires  to  increase  their  burning. 
And  I  ere  long  ei^hten'd  by  my  anger 
Shall  be  my  own  pile,  and  consume  to  ashes.  igo 

Abr,    Why,  then  I  see  indeed  your  injuries 
Have  ravished  hence  your  reason  and  discourse, 
And  left  you  the  mere  prostitute  of  passion. 
Can  you  repair  the  ruins  you  lament  so 
With  these  eacdaims  ?  Was  ever  dead  man  call'd  195 

To  life  again  by  fruitful  sighs,  or  can 
Your  rage  re-edify  Caropia's  honour. 
Slain  and  betray'd  by  his  foul  lust  ?    Your  manhood. 
That  heretofore  has  thrown  3rou  on  all  dangers, 
Methinks  should  prompt  you  to  a  noble  vengeance,  200 

Which  you  may  safely  prosecute  with  justice ; 
To  which  this  crime,  although  he  be  a  Prince, 
Renders  him  liable. 

Mur.  Yes,  I'll  have  justice ; 

Or  I'll  awake  the  sleepy  deities. 
Or  like  the  ambitious  giants  wage  nsw  wars  205 


5o6  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  III 

With  heaven  itself ;  my  wrongs  shall  steel  my  courage ; 

And  on  this  vicious  Prince,  like  a  fierce  sea-breach, 

My  just-wak'd  rage  shall  riot  till  it  sink 

In  tiie  remorseless  eddy,  sink  where  Time 

Shall  never  find  his  name  but  with  disgrace  210 

To  taint  his  hateful  memory. 

Abr,  This  wildness 

Neither  befits  your  wisdom  nor  your  courage, 
Which  should  with  settled  and  collected  thoughts, 
Walk  on  to  noble  vengeance.    He  before 
Was  by  our  plots  proscrib'd  to  death  and  ruin  215 

To  advance  me  to  the  Empire ;  now  with  ease 
We  may  accomplish  our  designs. 

Mur,  Would  heaven 

I  ne'er  had  given  consent,  o'ercome  by  love 
To  you,  to  have  made  a  forfeit  on  my  allegiance ; 
'Tis  a  just  punishment,  I  by  him  am  wrong'd,  220 

Whom,  for  your  sake,  I  fearless  sought  to  ruin. 

Abr,    Are  you  repentant  grown,  Mura  ?  This  softness 
111  suits  a  person  of  your  great  resolves. 
On  whom  my  fortunes  have  such  firm  dependence. 
Come,  let  Cairopia's  fate  invoke  thy  vengeance  225 

To  gain  full  mast'ry  o'er  all  other  passions ; 
Leave  not  a  comer  in  thy  spacious  heart 
Unfumish'd  of  a  noble  rage,  which  now 
Will  be  an  attribute  of  glorious  ju^ce : 

The  law,  you  know,  with  loss  xyf  sight  doih  punish  230 

All  rapes,  though  on  mean  persons ;  and  our  father 
Is  so  severe  a  justicer,  not  blood 
Can  make  a  breach  upon  his  faith  to  justice. 
Besides  we  have  already  made  him  dangerous 
In  great  Almanzor's  thoughts,  and  being  delinquent,  235 

He  needs  must  suffer  what  the  meanest  ofiender 
Merits  for  such  a  trespass. 

Mur,  I'm  awake  now  ; 

The  lethargy  of  horror  and  amaze 
That  did  obscure  my  reason,  like  those  dull 
And  lazy  vapours  that  o'eishade  the  sun,  240 

Vanish,  and  it  resumes  its  native  brightness. 
And  now  I  would  not  but  this  devil  Prince 
Had  done  this  act  upon  Caropia's  whiteness, 
Since't  3rields  you  free  access  imto  the  empire ; 
The  deprival  ofs  sight  does  render  him  incapable  245 

Of  future  sovereignty. 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR'  HONOUR  507 

Ahr.  Thou'rt  in  the  right. 

And  hast  put  on  manly  considerations  : 
Caropia  (since  she's  in  her  will  untainted) 
Has  not  foregone  her  honour ;  he  dispatch'd  onoe» 
As  we  will  have  him  shortly  ('t  shall  go  hard  els^  250 

A  tenant  to  his  marble,  thou  again 
Wedded  in  peace  may'st  be  to  her  pure  virtues, 
And  live  their  happy  owner. 

Mur,  I'll  repair 

To  great  Almanzor  instantly,  and  if 

His  partial  piety  do  descend  to  pity,  255 

I  will  awake  the  executioner 
Of  justice,  Death,  although  in  sleep  more  heavy 
Than  he  can  borrow  from  his  natural  coldness ; 
On  this  good  sword  I'll  wear  my  cause's  justice 
Till  he  do  fall  its  sacrifice. 

Ahr,  But  be  sure  260 

You  do't  with  cunning  secrecy ;  perhaps, 
Should  he  have  notice  of  your  just  intentions, 
He  would  repair  to  th'  army,  from  which  safeguard 
Our  best  force  could  not  pluck  him  without  danger 
To  the  whole  Empire. 

Mur,  Doubt  not  but  I'll  manage     »  265 

With  a  discreet  severity  my  vengeance. 
Invoke  Almanzor's  equity  with  sudden 
And  private  haste. 

Ahr,  Meantime 

I  will  go  put  a  new  design  in  practice 

That  may  be  much  conducing  to  our  purpose.  •  270 

Like  clocks,  one  wheel  another  on  must  drive, 
Afiairs  by  diligent  labour  only  thrive.  Exeunt 

SCENA  SECUNDA 
[The  Camp,  outside  the  city] 
Enter  Selinthus,  Gaselles,  Osman,  and  Soldiers 

Set.    No  quarrelling,  good  cousins,  les[s]  it  be 
With  the  glass,  'cause  'tis  not  of  size  sufficient 
To  give  you  a  magnificent  draught.    You  will         1  ; 
Have  fighting  work  enough  when  you're  i'  th'  wars ; 
Do  not  fall  out. among  yourselves. 

Os.  •  Not  pledge  5 


5o8  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  III 

My  peeiless  mistress'  health  ?     Soldier,  thou'rt  mortal. 
If  thou  refuse  it. 

Gas.  Come,  come,  he  shall  pledge  it. 

And  'twere  a  ton.  Why,  we're  all  as  dull 
As  dormice  in  our  liquor.  Here's  a  health 
To  the  Prince  Abilqualit. 

Soldier,  Let  go  round  I  lo 

I'd  drink't,  were  it  an  ocean  of  warm  blood 
Flowing  from  th'  enemy.    Pray,  good  my  lord. 
What  news  is  stirring  ? 

SeL  It  should  seem,  soldier. 

Thou  canst  not  read ;  otherwise  the  leam'd  pamphlets 
That  fly  about  the  streets,  would  satisfy  15 

Thy  curiosity  with  news ;  they're  true  ones, 
Full  of  discreet  inteUigence. 

Os,    Cousins,  shall 's  have  a  song  ?     Here  is  a  soldier 
In's  time  hath  sung  a  dirge  unto  the  foe 
Oft  in  the  field. 

Soldier,  Captain,  I  have  a  new  one,  3o 

The  '  Soldier's  Joy '  'tis  caU'd. 

Sel,  That  is  an  harlot ; 

Prithee  be  musical,  and  let  us  taste 
The  sweetness  of  thy  voice.  A  song 

Gas,  Whist,  give  attention  I 

Soldier.    How  does  your  lordship  like  it  ? 

Sel,  Very  well. 

And  so  here's  to  thee  1    There's  no  drum  beats  yet,  25 

And  'tis  clear  day ;  some  hour  hence  'tvrill  be 
Time  to  break  up  the  watch.    Enter  Abrahen,  Mesithes 

Ha,  young  Lord  Abrahen, 
And  trim  Mesithes  with  him  I    What  the  devil 
Does  he  make  up  so  early  ?    He  has  been 
A  bat-fowling  all  night  after  those  birds,  30 

Those  lady-birds  term'd  wagtails.    What  strange  business 
Can  he  have  here,  trow  ? 

Abr,  'Twas  well  done,  Mesithes  I 

And  trust  me,  I  shall  find  an  apt  reward. 
Both  for  thy  care  and  cunning.    Prithee  haste 
To  Lord  Simanthes,  and  deliver  this  35 

Note  to  him  with  best  diligence,  my  dear  eimuch ; 
Thou'rt  half  the  soul  of  Abrahen. 

Mes.  1  was  bom 

To  be  intituled  your  meet  humble  vassal ; 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  509 

I'll  haste  to  the  Lord  Simaathes.  Esfit 

Sel.  How  he  cringes  1 

These  youths  that  want  the  instruments  of  manhood  40 

Are  very  supple  in  the  hams. 

Abr,  Gk)od  morrow 

To  noble  Lord  Selinthus.    What  companions 
Have  you  got  here  thus  early  ? 

Sel,  Blades  of  metal. 

Tall  men  of  war,  and't  please  your  Grace,  of  my 
Own  blood  and  family,  men  who  [have]  gather'd  45 

A  salad  on  the  enemy's  ground,  and  eaten  it 
In  bold  defiance  of  faim ; 
And  not  a  soldier  here  bufs  an  Achilles, 
Valiant  as  stoutest  M3ninidon. 

Abr,  And  they 

Never  had  juster  cause  to  show  their  valour ;  50 

The  Prince,  my  dearest  brother,  their  Lord  General's 
Become  a  forfeit  to  the  stem  law's  rigour ; 
And  'tis  imagin'd  our  impartial  father 
ynJl  sentence  him  to  lose  his  eyes. 

Gas,  Marry,  Heaven 

Defend  1    For  what,  and't  like  your  Grace  ? 

Abr,  For  a  fact    55 

Which  the  severe  law  punishes  with  loss 
Of  nature's  precious  lights,  my  tears  will  scarce 
Permit  me  utter't,  for  a  rape  committed 
On  the  fair  wife  of  Mura. 

Os,    Was  it  for  nothing  else,  and  please  your  Grace  ?  60 

Ere  he  shall  lose  an  eye  for  such  a  trifle. 
Or  have  a  hair  dimioish'd,  we  will  lose 
Our  heads ;  what,  hoodwink  men  like  sullen  hawks 
For  doing  deeds  of  nature  I    I'm  asham'd 
The  law  is  such  an  ass. 

Sel.  Some  eunuch  judge,  65 

That  could  not  be  acquainted  with  the  sweets 
Due  to  concupiscential  parts,  invented 
This  law,  I'll  be  hang'd  else  1    'Slife,  a  prince, 
And  such  a  hopeful  one,  to  lose  his  eyes, 
For  satisfying  the  hunger  of  the  stomach  70 

Beneath  tiie  waist,  is  cruelty  prodigious. 
Not  to  be  sufEer'd  in  a  commonwealth 
Of  ought  but  geldings. 

Abr,  'Tis  vain  to  soothe 


510  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  IH 

Our  hopes  with  these  delusicHis ;  he  will  suffer. 

Less  he  be  rescued.     I  would  have  you,  therefore,  75 

II  you  owe  any  service  to  ihe  Prince, 

My  much  lamented  brother,  to  attend 

Without  least  tumult  'bout  the  Court,  and  if 

There  be  necessity  of  your  aid,  I'll  give  you 

Notice  when  to  employ  it. 

Sel,  Sweet  Prince,  we'll  swim  80 

In  blood  to  do  thee  or  thy  brother  service : 
Each  man  provide  their  weapons. 

Abr.  You  will  win 

My  brother's  love  for  ever ;  nay,  my  father, 
Though  he'll  seem  angry  to  behold  his  justice 
Deluded,  afterwards  when  his  rage  is  past,  S5 

Will  thank  you  for  your  loyalties.     Pray  be  there 
With  all  speed  possible ;  by  this  my  brother's 
Commandoi  'fore  my  father.     I'll  go  learn 
The  truth,  and  give  you  notice;  pray  be  secret 
And  firm  to  your  resolves.  Exit 

Sel,  For  him  that  flinches  90 

In  such  a  cause^  I'll  have  no  more  mercy  on  him. 

Enter  Tarifa  and  Mura 

Here's  Tarifa, 

The  Prince's  sometimes  tutor,  Mura  with  him, 

A-walking  towards  the  Court ;  let's  take  no  notice 

Of  them,  lest  they  discover  our  intentions  95 

By  our  grim  looks.    March  fair  and  softly,  cousins, 

We'll  be  at  Court  before  them. 

[Exeunt  Selinthus,  Gaselles,  Odman  and  Sc^diers] 
Tar,    You  will  not  do  this,  Mura  I 
Mur.  How,  Tarifa  ? 

Will  you  defend  him  in  an  act  so  impious  ? 

Is't  fit  the  drum  should  cease  his  suiiy  language  100 

When  the  bold  soldier  marches,  or  that  I 

Should  pass  o'er  this  affront  in  quiet  silence. 

Which  gods  and  men  invoke  to  speedy  vengeance  ? 

Which  I  will  have,  or  manhood  shall  be  tame 

As  cowardice. 

Tar.  It  was  a  deed  so  barbarous,  105 

That  truth  itself  blushes  as  well  as  justice 

To  hear  it  mention'd  :  but  consider,  Mura, 

He  is  our  Prince,  the  Empire's  hope,  and  pillar 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  511 

Of  great  Almanzor's  age.     How  far  a  public 

Regard  should  be  preferr'd  before  your  private  no 

Desire  of  vengeance !  which  if  you  do  purchase 

From  our  impartial  Emperor's  equity, 

His  loss  of  sight,  and  so  of  the  succession. 

Will  not  restore  Caropia  to  the  honour 

He  ravish'd  from  her.     But  so  foul  the  cause  is,  115 

I  rather  should  lament  the  Prince's  folly 

Than  plead  in  his  behalf. 

Mur.  'Tis  but  vain  ; 

There  is  your  warrant,  as  you  are  High  Marshal, 
To  summon  him  to  make  his  speedy  appearance 
'Fore  the  tribunal  of  Almanzor ;  so  pray  120 

You  execute  your  office.  Exit 

Tar.  How  one  vice 

Can  like  a  small  cloud  when  't  breaks  forth  in  showers. 
Black  the  whole  heaven  of  virtues  I 

Enter  Abilqualit  [with]  Mutes,  whispering,  seem  to  make 
protestoHtms,     Exeunt  [Mutes] 

O  my  lord, 
That  face  of  yours  which  once  with  angel  brightness 
Cheer'd  my  faint  sight,  like  a  grim  apparition  125 

Frights  it  with  ghastly  terror :  you  have  done 
A  deed  that  startles  virtue  till  it  shakes 
As  it  got  a  palsy.     I'm  commanded 
To  summon  you  before  your  father,  and 
Hope  you'll  obey  his  mandate. 

Abil  Willingly!  130 

What's  my  offence,  Tarifa  ? 

Tar,  Would  you  knew  not  I 

I  did  presage  your  too  unruly  passions 
Would  hurry  you  to  some  disastrous  act. 
But  ne'er  imagin'd  you'd  have  been  so  lost 
To  masculine  honour  to  commit  a  rape  135 

On  that  unhappy  object  of  your  love, 
Whom  now  y'ave  made  the  spoil  of  your  foul  lust. 
The  much  wrong'd  wife  of  Mura. 

Ahil,  Why,  does  Mura 

Charge  me  with  his  Caropia's  rape  ? 

Tar,  This  warrant* 

Sent  by  your  angry  father,  testifies  14O 

He  means  to  appeach  you  of  it.  • 


5ia  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  IV 

Abil.  [aside]  "Us  my  forttme. 

All  natural  motions  when  they  approach  tiieir  end. 
Haste  to  draw  to't  with  [un]acci]stom'd  swiftness. 
Rivers  with  greedier  speed  run  near  their  out-falls 
Than  at  their  springs.    But  I'm  resolv'd,  let  what  145 

Happen  that  will,  I'll  stand  it,  and  defend 
Caropia's  honour,  though  mine  own  t  ruin ; 
Who  dares  not  die  to  justify  liis  love. 
Deserves  not  to  enjoy  her.    Come,  Taiifa, 
Whatever  befall,  I'm  resolute.    He  dies  150 

Glorious,  that  falls  Love's  innocent  sacrifice.  Exeunt 


ACTUS  QUARTUS,  SCENA   I 

[A  Room  in  the  Couri] 

Enter  Almanzor,  Abilqualit,  Tarifa,  and  Mura 

Aim,    No  more,  Tarifa ;  you'll  provoke  our  anger 
If  you  appear  in  this  cause  so  solicitous ; 
The  act  is  too  apparent :  nor  shall  you 
Need,  injur'd  Mura,  to  implore  our  justice. 
Which  with  impartial  doom  shall  fall  on  him  S 

More  rigorously  than  on  a  strange  offender. 
O  Abilqualit,  (for  the  name  of  son. 
When  thou  forsook'st  thy  native  virtue,  left  thee ;) 
Were  all  thy  blood,  thy  youth  and  fortune's  glories 
Of  no  more  value  than  to  be  expos'd  10 

To  ruin  for  one  vice;  at  whose  name  only 
The  Furies  start,  and  bashful-fronted  Justice 
Hides  her  amaz'd  head  ?    But  it  is  now  bootiess 
To  show  a  father's  pity  in  my  grief 

For  thy  amiss.     As  I'm  to  be  thy  judge,  15 

Be  resolute  I'll  take  as  little  notice 
Thou  art  my  ofispring,  as  the  wandering  clouds 
Do  of  the  showers,  which  when  they've  bred  to  ripeness, 
They  straight  disperse  through  the  vast  earth  forgotten. 

Abil,    I'm  sorry,  sir,  that  my  unhappy  chance  20 

Should  draw  your  anger  on  me;  my  long  silence 
Declares  I  have  on  that  excelling  sweetness. 
That  unexampled  pattern  of  chaste  goodness, 
Caropia,  acted  violence.    I  confess 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  313 

I  lov'd  the  lady,  and  when  no  persuasions  ^5 

Serv'd  to  prev^  on  her  too  stubborn,  incens'd. 

By  force  I  sought  my  purpose  and  obtained  it ;. 

Nor  do  I  yet  (so  much  I  pruce  the  sweetness 

Of  that  unvalued  purchase)  find  repentance 

In  any  abject  thought ;  whate'er  falls  on>  me  30 

Prom  your  stem  rigonr  in  a  cause  so  precious, 

WUl  be  a  pleasing  punishment. 

Aim,  You  are  grown 

A  glorious  malefactor,  that  dare  biave  thus 
The  awful  rod  of  justice  f    Loat  young  man» 
For  thou'rt  no  child  of  mine»  dost  not  oosisider  35 

To  what  a  state  of  desperate'  destruction 
Thy  wild  lust  haa  betray'd  tiiee  ?    What  rich  blessin^B 
(That  I  may  make  thee  sensible  of  thy  flin» 
By  showing  thee  thy  sufEering)  hast  thon  lost 
By  thy  irregular  foitty  !     First  my  love,  40 

Which  never  more  most  meet  thee,  scarce  in  pity ; 
The  glory  flowing  from,  thy  .tettner  actiocis 
Stopp'd  up  for  ever ;  sold'  those  lustful  eyes 
(By  whose  deprival  thou'rt  deprived  of  being 
Capable  of  this  Empire)  to  the  law,  45 

Which  will  exact  them,  forfeited.    Call  in  there 
A  surgeon  and  our  Mutes  to  execute  this  act 

Enter  Surgeon,  Itfutes  -;  •';    ,! 

Of  justice  on  the  unworthy  traitor,  upon  whom 

My  just  wak'd  wrath  sludl  have  no  more  compassion 

Than  the  incens'd  flames  have  on  perishing  wretches  50 

That  wilfully  leap  into  tham. 

Tar.  O  my  Lord, 

That  which  on  others  would  be  fitting  justice. 
On  him  your  hopeful,  though  oflending,  son. 
Will  be  exemplar  cruelty ;  his  youth,  sir, 
That  hath  abounded  with  so  many  virtues,  55 

Is  an  excuse  sufficient  for  one  vice  : 
He  is  not  yours  only,  he's  your.  Empire's, 
Destin'd  by  nature  and  succession's  privilege,. 
When  you  in  peace  are  shrouded  in  your  marble. 
To  widd  this  sceptre  after  you.    O  do  not,  60 

By  putting  out  his  eyes  deprive  your  subjects 
Of  light,  and  leave  them  to  dull  mournful  darkness. 

Aim,    'Tis  but  in  vaixi^  I  am*  inexorable.. 

C.D.W.  L  L 


514  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  IV 

If  those  on  which  his  eyes  hang  were  my  heart-strings, 

I'd  cut  them  out  rather  than  wound  my  justice :  65 

Nor  does't  befit  thy  virtue  intercede 

For  him  in  this  cause  horrid  and  prodigious : 

The  crime  'gainst  me  was  acted ;  'twas  a  rape 

Upon  my  honour  more  than  on  her  whiteness ; 

His  was  from  mine  derivative,  as  each  stream  70 

Is  from  its  spring ;  so  that  he  has  polluted 

By  his  foul  fact,  my  fame,  my  truth,  my  goodness ; 

Strucken  through  my  dignity  by  his  violence ; 

Nay,  started  in  their  peaceful  urns  the  ashes 

Of  all  my  glorious  ancestors ;  defil'd  75 

The  memory  of  their  still  descendent  virtues ; 

Nay  with  a  killing  frost  nipp'd  the  fair  blossoms 

That  did  presage  such  goodly  fruit  arising 

From  his  own  hopeful  youth. 

Mur,  I  ask  but  justice ; 

Those  eyes  that  led  him  to  unlawful  objects,  80 

'Tis  fit  should  sufiEer  for't  a  lasting  blindness; 
The  Sun  himself,  when  he  darts  rays  lascivious. 
Such  as  engender  by  too  piercing  fervenoe 
Intemperate  and  infectious  heats,  straight  wears 
Obscurity  from  the  clouds  his  own  beams  raises.  85 

I  have  been  your  soldier,  sir,  and  fought  your  battles ; 
For  all  my  services  I  beg  but  justice, 
Which  is  the  subject's  best  prerogative. 
The  prince's  greatest  attribute ;  and  for  a  fact. 
Than  which  none  can  be  held  more  black  and  hideous,  90 

Which  has  betray'd  to  an  eclipse  the  brightest 
Star  in  th'  heaven  of  virtues  :  the  just  law 
Does  for't  ordain  a  punishment,  which  I  hope 
You,  the  law's  righteous  guider,  win  according         '' 
To  equity  see  executed. 

Tar.  Why,  that  law  95 

Was  only  made  for  common  malefactors, 
But  has  no  force  to  extend  unto  the  Prince, 
To  whom  the  law  itself  must  become  subject. 
This  hopeful  Prince,  look  on  him,  great  Almanzor; 
And  in  his  eyes  (those  volumes  of  all  graces,  100 

Which  you  like  erring  meteors  would  extinguish) 
Read  your  own  lively  figure,  the  best  story 
Of  your  youth's  noblest  vigour ;  let  not  wrath,  sir,  ^        . 

Overcome  your  piety,  nay,  jrour  human  pity. 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  515 

'T!s  in  yoor  breast,  my  lord,  yet  to  show  mercy,  105 

That  precious  attribute  of  heaven's  true  goodness, 

Even  to  yourself,  your  son  1  Methinks  that  name 

Should  have  a  power  to  interdict  your  justice  ,  , 

In  its  too  rigorous  progress.  1 

Abil.  Dear  Tarifa, 

I'm  more  afflicted  at  th[y]  intercessions  no 

Than  at  the  view  of  my  approaching  torments. 
Which  I  will  meet  with  fortitude  and  boldness  ; 
Twere  base  to  shake  now  at  one  personal  danger. 
When  I've  encounter'd  thousand  perils  fearless ; 
Nor  do  I  blame  my  gracious  father's  justice,  115 

Though  it  precede  his  nature.  I'd  not  have  him 
(For  my  sake)  forfeit  that  for  which  he's  famous. 
His  uncormpted  equity;  nor  repine  '  :  ^     ;  • 

I  at  my  destiny ;  my  eyes  have  had  ,  . . 

Delights  sufficient  in  Cauropia's  beauties,  ;  120 

To  serve  my  thoughts  for  after  contemplations ; 
Nor  can  I  ever  covet  a  new  object. 
Since  they  can  ne'er  hope  to  encounter  any 
Of  equal  worth  and  sweetness. 

[Aside  to  Tarifa]  Yet  hark,  Tarifa,  to  thy  secrecy  125 

I  will  impart  my  dearest,  inmost  counsels  : 
If  I  should  perish,  as  'tis  probable  > 

I  may,  under  the  hands  of  these  tonnentors. 
Thou  mayst  unto  succession  show  my  innocence ; 
Caropia  3delded  without  least  constraint,  130 

And  I  enjoy'd  her  freely. 

Tar,  How,  my  lord  ! 

Abil,    No  words  on't, 
As  you  respect  my  honour  1  I'd  not  lose 
The  glory  I  shall  gain  by  these  my  sufierings ; 
Come,  grim  furies,  135 

And  execute  your  office ;  I  will  stand  you, 
Unmov'd  as  IhUs  at  whirlwinds,  and  amidst 
The  torments  you  inflict  retain  my  courage. 

Aim,     Be  speedy,  villains  I 

[The  Mutes  seize  Abilqualit] 

Tar.  O  stay  your  cruel  hands. 

You  dumb  ministers  of  injur'd  justice,  140 

And  let  me  speak  his  innocence  ere  you  further 
Afflict  his  precious  eye-sight. 

Aim,    What  does  this  mean,  Tarifa  ? 


5i6  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  IV 

Tar.  O  my  lord, 

The  too  much  bravery  of  the  Prince's  spirit 
'Tis  has  undone  his  fame,  and  pull'd  upon  him  145 

This  fatal  punishment ;  'twas  but  to  save 
The  lady's  honour  that  he  has  assum'd 
Her  rape  upon  him.  when  with  her  consent 
The  de^  of  shame  wa«  acted. 

Muf.  'Tis  his  feai3 

Makes  him  traduce  her  innocence ;  he  who  did  not  150 

Stick  to  commit  a  riot  on  her  person, 
Can  make  no  conscience  to  destroy  her  &me 
By  his  untrue  suggestions. 

Aim,  Tis  a  baseness 

Beyond  thy  other  villany  (had  she  yielded) 
Thus  to  betray,  for  transitory  torture,  155 

Her  honour,  which  thou  wert  engag'd  to  safeguard 
Even  with  thy  life.    A  son  of  mine  could  never 
Show  this  ignoble  cowardice :  proceed 
To  execution,  I'll  not  hear  him  speak ; 
He  is  made  up  of  treacheries  and  falsehoods.  160 

Taf,     Will  you  then 
Be  to  the  Prince  so  tyrannous  ?     Why,  to  me 
Just  now  he  did  confess  his  only  motive 
To  undergo  this  torment  was  to  save 
Caropia's  honour  blameless. 

Ahil,  I  am  more  165 

Troubled,  sir,  with  his  untimely  frenzy 
Than  with  my  punishment ;  his  too  much  love 
To  me  has  spoil'd  his  temperate  reason.    I 
Confess  Caropia  jdelded  I    Not  the  light 

Is  half  so  innocent  as  her  spotless  virtue.  170 

{Aside  to  Tarifa]    'Twas  not  well  done,  Tarifii,  to  betray 
The  secret  of  your  friend  thus ;  though  she  3ridded, 
The  terror  of  ten  thousand  deaths  shall  never 
Force  me  to  confess  it. 

Tar.  Again,  my  lord,  even  now 

He  does  confess  she  jdelded,  and  protests  175 

That  death  shall  never  make  him  say  she's  guilty : 
The  breath  scarce  passM  his  lips  yet. 

Ahil.  Hapless  man; 

To  run  into  this  lunacy  1     [Aside  to  Tarifa]    Fie,   Tarifa< 
So  treacherous  to  your  friend  1 

Tar,  AgBatL,  agaiar 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  517 

Will  no  man  >give  .me  credit  ?  180 

Enter  Abrahen 

Abr,    Where  is  our  royal  father  ?    Where  our  brother  ? 
As  you  respect  your  life  and  Empire's  safety, 
Dismiss  these  tyrannous  instruments  of  death 
And  cruelty  unexempMed.     O  brother, 

That  I  should  ever  live  to  enjoy  my  eyesight,  185 

And  see  one  half  of  your  dear  lights  endangered. 
My  lord,  you've  done  an  act  which  my  just  fears 
Tells  me  will  shake  your  sceptre  1     O  for  heaven's  sake. 
Look  to  your  future  safety ;  the  rough  soldier 
Hearing  their  much-lov'd  General,  my  good  brother,  190 

Was  by  the  law  betray'd  to  some  sad  danger, 
Have  in  their  piety  beset  the  palace. 
Think  on  some  means  to  appease  them,  ere  their  fury 
Grow  to  its  fuU  unbridled  height;  they  threaten 
Your  life,  great  sir :  pray  send  my  brother  to  them  ;  195 

His  sight  can  only  pacify  them. 

Aim.  [To  Abilqualit]  Have  you  your  champions  ? 

We  will  prevent  their  insolence  ;  you  shedl  not 
Boast  you  have  .got  the  Empire  by  our  ruin : 
Mutes,  strangle  him  immediately! 

Abr.  .Avert 

Such  a  prodigious  mischief,  heaven  1    Hark,  hark  I  200 

ICries  without]  Enter,  Enter. 
lAbrJ]  They're  enter'd  into  th'  Court;    [to  the  Mutes]  desist, 

you  monsters  1 
My  life  shall  stand  betwisct  his  and  this  violence. 
Or  I   with   him  will   perish.     [Calling    to    those    withouf}. 

Faithful  soldiers, 
Haste  to  defend  your  Prince,  curse  on  your  slowness  1 

[AbilquaUt  falls.] 
[Aside]    He's  dead ;    my  father's  turn  is  next. — O  horror,  205 
Would  I  might  sink  into  f orgetf ulness  1 
What  has  your  fury  urg'd  you  to  ? 

Aim.  To  that 

Which  whoso  murmurs  at,  is  a  faithless  traitor 
To   om    tranquillity.    [Enter  Simanthes].    Now,  sir,    your 
business  ? 

Stiff.    My  lord,  the  city  210 

Is  up  in  arms  in  rescue  of  the  Prince ; 
The  whole  Court  throngs  with  soldiers. 


5i8  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  IV 

Aim.  'Twas  high  time 

To  cut  this  viper  ofi,  that  would  have  eat  his  passage 
Through  our  very  bowels  to  our  Empire. 

Nay,  we  will  stand  their  furies,  and  with  terror  215 

Of  majesty  strike  dead  these  insurrections. 

Enter  [Osman  and]  Soldiers 

Traitors,  what  means  this  violence  ? 

Abr,  O,  dear  soldiers. 

Your  honest  love's  in  vain ;  my  brother's  dead. 
Strangled  by  great  Almanzor's  dire  command 
Ere  your  arrival.     [Aside]    I  do  hope  they'll  kill  him         220 
In  their  hot  zeal. 

Aim.  Why  do  you  stare  so,  traitors  ? 

'Twas  I,  your  Emp'ror,  that  have  done  this  act. 
Which  who  repines  at,  treads  the  self-same  steps 
Of  death  that  he  has  done.     Withdraw  and  leave  us, 
We'd  be  alone.     No  motion  ?     Are  you  statues  ?  225 

Stay  you,  Tarifa,  here.     For  your  part,  Mura, 
You  cannot  now  complain  but  you  have  justice ; 
So  quit  our  presence. 
Os.  Faces  about,  gentlemen  I 

Exeunt  [Osman  and  Soldiers] 
Abr.  [aside  to  Simanthes]     It  has  happen'd 
Above  our  wishes,  we  shall  have  no  need  now  230 

To  employ  your  handkercher.    Yet  give  it  me. 
You're  sure  'tis  right,  Simanthes  ? 

[Drops  the  handkerchief  on  Abilqualit's  body 
and  exit  with  Mutes,  Simanthes,  and  Mura] 
Aim.  Tarifa, 

I  know  the  love  thou  bear'st  Prince  Abilqualit 
Makes  thy  big  heart  swell  as  't  had  drunk  the  foam 
Of  angry  dragons.     Speak  thy  free  intentions  ;  235 

Deserv'd  he  not  this  fate  ? 

Tof.  No  ;  you're  a  tyrant. 

One  that  delights  to  feed  on  your  own  bowels. 
And  were  not  worthy  of  a  son  so  virtuous.         [Kneeiing] 
Now  you  have  ta'en  his,  add  to  your  injustice 
And  take  Tarifa's  life,  who  in  his  death,  240 

Should  it  come  flying  on  the  wings  of  torments. 
Would  speak  it  out  as  an  apparent  truth 
The  Prince  to  me  declar'd  his  innocence. 
And  that  Caropia  jdelded. 


Sc.  I]       REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR        519 

Aim.  Rise,  Tarifa ; 

We  do  command  thee  rise.     A  sadden  chiUness,  245 

Such  as  the  hand  of  winter  casts  on  brooks. 
Thrills  our  ag'd  heart.    I'll  not  have  thee  engross 
Sorrow  alone  for  Abilqnalit's  death ; 
I  lov'd  the  boy  well,  and  though  his  ambition 
And  popularity  did  make  him  dangerous,  250 

I  do  repent  my  fury,  and  will  vie 
With  thee  in  sorrow.     How  he  makes  death  lovely ! 
Shall  we  fix  here,  and  weep  till  we  be  statues  ? 

Tar,    Till  we  grow  stiff  as  the  cold  alabasters 
Must  be  erected  over  us.     Your  rashness  255 

Has  robb'd  the  Empire  ol  the  greatest  hope 
It  ere  shall  boast  again.    Would  I  were  ashes  I 

Aim.    He  breathes,  methinks ;    the  over-hasty  soul 
Was  too  discourteous  to  forsake  so  fair 

A  lodging,  without  taking  solemn  leave  260 

First  of  the  owner.     Ha,  his  handkercher  1 
Thou'rt  lib'ral  to  thy  father  even  in  death, 
Leav'st  him  a  legacy  to  dry  his  tears. 
Which  are  too  slow ;  they  should  create  a  deluge. 

0  my  dear  Abilqualit  1  [Falling  on  the  body]    265 
Tar.                                You  exceed  now 

As  much  in  grief  as  you  did  then  in  rage : 
One  drop  of  this  pious  paternal  softness 
Had  ransom'd  him  from  ruin.    Dear  sir,  rise; 
My  griefs  divided,  and  I  know  not  whether 

1  should  lament  you  living,  or  him  dead.  270 
Good  sir,  erect  your  looks^    Not  stir  ?    His  sorrow 

Makes  him  insensible.    Ha,  there's  no  motion 

Left  in  his  vital  spirits ;  the  excess 

Of  grief  has  stifled  up  his  pow'rs,  and  crack'd, 

I  tear,  his  ag'd  heart's  cordage.    Help,  the  Emperor,         275 

The  Emperor's  dead  I    Help,  help  1 

[Enter]  Abrahen,  Simanthes,  Mesithes,  Mutes 

Abr.  What  dismal  ooicry's  this  ? 

Our  royal  father  dead  1 
[Aside]     The  handkercher  has  wrought,  I  see. 

Tar.  Yes,  his  big  heart 

Vanquish'd  with  sorrow,  that  in's  violent  rage 
He  doom'd  his  much4ov'd  son  to  timeless  death,  280 

Could  not  endure  longer  on  its  weak  strings. 


520  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  IV 

Bat  crack'd  with  weight  of  sonow.    Their  two  spirits 
By  this  are  met  in  their  ddightful  passage 
To  the  blest  shades ;  <we  in  oar  teais  aze  boQud 
To  call  yon  oar  diead  Sovereign. 

Omnes.  Jjoog  live  Abraben.      2S5 

Great  Caliph  of  Arabia! 

Abr,  'Tis  a  title 

We  cannot  covet,  lords ;  it  comes  attended 
With  so  great  cares  and  troubles  that  our  youth 
Starts  at  the  thou^it  of  them,  even  in  our  sorrows 
Which  are  so  mighty  on  us ;  onr  weak  spirits  290 

Are  ready  to  relinquish  the  possession 
They've  of  mortality,  and  taJce  swift  flight 
After  our  royal  friinids.     Simancthes^  be  it 
Your  charge  to  see  all  fitting  .piepaiakton 
Provided  for  the  funerals.  295 

Enter  Selinthus 

Sel.    Where's  great  Almanzor  ? 

Abr,  O,  Selinthas,  this 

Day  is  the  hour  of  funeral's  grief ;  for  his 
Cruelty  to  my  brother  has  translated  him 
To  immortality. 

Sel,  He'll  have  attendants 

To  wait  on  him  to  our  great  Prophet's  paradise,  500 

Ere  he  be  ready  for  his  grave.     The  soldiers. 
All  mad  with  rage  for  the  Prince's  slaughter, 
Have  vow'd  by  all  oaths  soldiers  can  invent 
(And  that's  no  small  store)  with  desitkk  and  destruction 
To  pursue  sullen  Mora. 

Abr.  TrntifA,  305 

Use  your  authority  to  keep  their  violence 
In  due  obedience.     We're  so  fraught  with  grief. 
We  have  no  room  for  any  other  passion 
In  our  distracted  bosom.     Take  these  ro3ral  bodies 
And  place  them  on  that  couch ;  here  where  1±tey  fell,  310 

They  shall  be  embalmM.    Yet  put  them  out  of  our  sight. 
Their  views  draw  fresh  drops  from  our  lieait.    Anon 
We'll  show  ourselves  to  cheer  the  a£9ioted  cubjcct. 

A  shout 

Omnes.    Long  live  Abrahen,  great  Caliph  of  Arabia ! 

Exeunt  \aU  but  Abrahen] 

Abr,    And  who  can  say  now  Abrahen  is  a  villain  ?  315 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  521 

I  am  saluted  King  with  acclamations 
That  deaf  the  heavens  to  hear,  with  as  muoh  joy 
Ab  if  I  had  achiev'd  this  sceptre  by 
Means  fair  and  virtuous.     'Twas  this  handkercher 
That  did  to  death  Almanzor,  so  infected  320 

Its  least,  insensible,  vapour  has  full  power. 
Applied  to  th'  eye  or  any  other  organ 
Can  drink  its  poison  in,  to  vanquish  nature, 
Though  ne'er  so  strong  and  youthful.     'Twas  Simanthes 
Devis'd  it  for  my  brother,  and  my  cunning  325 

Transferred  it  to  Almanzor;  'tis  no  matter. 
My  worst  impiety  is  held  now  religious. 
'Twixt  kings  and  their  inferiors  there's  this  odds. 
These  are  mere  men ;  we  men,  yet  earthly  gods.  Exii 

AM.  ^sing],    'Twas   well   the   Mutes   prov'd   faithful, 
otherwise  330 

I'd  lost  my  breath  with  as  much  speed  and  silence 
As  those  who  do  expire  in  dreams,  their  healtii 
Seeming  no  whit  abated.    But  'twas  wisely 
Consider'd  of  me,  to  prepare  those  sure 

Instruments  of  destruction :  the  suspicion  335 

I  had  by  Abrahen  of  my  father's  fears 
Of  my  unthought  ambition,  did  instruct  me 
By  making  them  mine  to  secure  my  safety. 
Would  the  inhuman  surgeon  had  ta'en  these 
Blessed  lights  from  me ;  that  I  had  Hv'd  for  ever  340 

Doom'd  to  perpetual  darkness,  rather  than 
Tarifa's  feazB  had  so  appeach'd  her  honour. 
Well,  villain  brother,  I  have  found  that,  by 
My  seeming  death,  which  by  my  life's  best  arts 
I  ne'er  should  have  had  knowledge  of.    Dear  father,  345 

Though  thou  to  me  wcrt  pitiless,  my  heart 
Weeps  tears  of  blood,  to  see  thy  age  ^us  like 
A  lofty  pine  fall,  eaten  through  by  th'  gin. 
From  its  own  stock  descending.    He  has  agents 
In  his  ungradons  wickedness;  Simanthes  350 

He  has  discover'd.    Were  they  multitudes 
As  numerous  as  collected  sands,  and  mighty 
In  force  as  mischief,  they  should  from  my  justice 
Meet  their  due  punishment.    Abrahen  by  this 
Is  proclaim'd  Caliph,  yet  my  undoubted  right  555 

When't  shall  appear  I'm  living,  will  reduce 
The  people  to  my  part;  the  army's  mine. 


522  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  IV 

Whither  I  must  withdraw  tmseen ;  the  night 

Will  best  secure  me.     What  a  strange  chimera 

Of  thought  possesses  my  dull  brain  !    Caropia,  360 

Thou  hast  a  share  in  them  ;  Fate,  to  thy  mercy 

I  do  commit  m3rself ;  who  scapes  the  snare 

Once,  has  a  certain  caution  to  beware.  Exit 


SCENA   II 

[A  Room  in  the  House  of  Mura] 
Enter  Caropia  and  Perilinda 

Car.    Your  lord  is  not  retum'd  yet  ? 

Per.  No,  good  madam. 

Pray  do  not  thus  torment  yourself,  the  Prince 
(I  warrant  you)  will  have  no  injury 
By  saving  of  your  honour ;  do  you  think 
His  father  will  be  so  extreme  outrageous  5 

For  such  a  trifle  as  to  force  a  woman 
With  her  good  liking  ? 

Car.  My  ill-boding  soul 

Beats  with  presages  ominous.    Would  heaven 
I'd  stood  the  hazard  of  my  incens'd  lord's  fury 
Rather  than  he  had  run  this  inumnent  danger.  10 

Could  you  ne'er  learn,  which  of  the  slaves  it  was 
Betray'd  our  close  loves  to  loath'd  Mura's  notice  ? 

Per,    No,  indeed  could  I  not ;  but  here's  my  lord  ; 
Pray,  madam,  do  not  grieve  so  I 

Enter  Mura    {exit  Perilinda] 

Mur,  My  Caropia, 

Dress  up  thy  looks  in  their  aocnstom'd  beauties ;  is 

Call  bade  the  constant  spring  into  thy  cheeks, 
That  droop  like  lovely  violets  o'ercharg'd 
With  too  much  morning's  dew ;  shoot  from  thy  eyes 
A  thousand  flames  of  joy.     The  lustful  Prince, 
That  like  a  foid  thief  robb'd  thee  of  thy  honour  20 

By  his  ungracious  violence,  has  met 
EQs  ro3ral  father's  justice. 

Car,  Now  my  fears 

Carry  too  sure  an  augury  1  You  would  fain 
Sootiie  me,  my  lord,  out  of  my  flood  of  sorrows ; 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  523 

What  reparation  can  that  make  my  honour,  25 

Though  he  have  tasted  punishment  ? 

Muf.  His  life 

Is  fall'n  the  [off'ring]  of  thy  chastity. 
Which  his  hot  lust  polluted :  nay,  Caropia, 
To  save  himself  when  he  but  felt  the  torment 
Applied  to  his  lascivious  eyes,  although  30 

At  first  he  did  with  impudence  acknowledge 
Thy  rape,  he  did  invade  thy  spotless  virtue  ; 
Protested  only  'twas  to  save  thy  honour 
He  took  on  him  thy  rape,  when  with  consent 
And  not  constrained,  thou  yielded'st  to  the  looseness  33 

Of  his  wild,  vicious  flames. 

Car,  Could  he  be  so 

Unjust,  my  lord  ? 

Mut,  He  was,  and  he  has  paid  for't : 

The  malicious  soldier,  while  he  was  a-losing 
His  eyes,  made  violent  head  to  bring  him  rescue. 
Which  pull'd  his  ruin  on  him.     But  no  more  40 

Of  such  a  prodigy ;  may  his  black  memory 
Perish  even  with  his  ashes !    My  Caropia, 
The  flourishing  trees,  widow'd  by  winter's  violence 
Of  their  fair  ornaments,  when  'tis  expir'd  once. 
Put  forth  again  with  new  and  virgin  freshness,  45 

Their  bushy  beauties ;  it  should  be  thy  emblem. 
Display  again  those  chaste,  immaculate  glories, 
Which  the  harsh  winter  of  his  lust  had  wither'd ; 
And  I'll  again  be  wedded  to  thy  virtues, 
With  as  much  joy,  as  when  thou  first  enrich'd  me  50 

With  their  pure  maiden  beauties.    Thou  art  duU, 
And  dost  not  gratulate  with  happy  welcomes 
The  triumphs  of  thy  vengeance. 

Cat,  Are  you  sure,  my  lord. 

The  Prince  is  dead  ? 

Mut,  Pish,  I  beheld  him  breathless! 

Take  comfort,  best  Caropia,  thy  disgrace  55 

Did  with  his  loath'd  breath  v^iish. 

Car,  I  could  wish  though. 

That  he  had  fall'n  by  your  particular  vengeance. 
Rather  than  by  th'  law's  rigour :  you're  a  soldier 
Of  glory,  great  in  war  for  brave  perfonnance ; 
Methinks  't  had  been  far  nobler  had  you  call'd  him  60 

To  personal  satisfaction :  had  I  been 


524  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  IV 

Your  husband,  you  my  wife,  and  laviah'd  by  him. 

My  resolution  would  have  arm'd  my  courage 

To  've  stroke  him  thus.    The  dead  Prince  sends  you  that  I 

Stabs  him 

Mur.    O,  I  am  slain  I 

Car,  Would  it  were  possible  65 

To  kill  even  thy  eternity  1     Sweet  Prince, 
How  shall  I  satisfy  thy  unhappy  ruins ! 
Ha,  not  yet  breathless  P    To  increase  thy  anguish 
Even  to  despair,  know  Abilqualit  was 

More  dear  to  me  than  thy  foul  self  was  odious,  70 

And  did  enjoy  me  freely. 

Mur,  That  I  had 

But  breath  enough  to  blast  thee. 

Car.  'Twas  his  brother 

(Curse  on  his  art  1)  seduc'd  me  to  accuse 
Him  of  my  rape.    Do  you  groan,  prodigy  ? 
Take  this  as  my  last  bounty.  Stabs  again 

Enter  Perilinda 

Per.  O  madam,  madam,  75 

What  shall  we  do  ?  the  house  is  round  beset 
With  soldiers ;  madam,  they  do  swear  they'll  tear 
My  lord,  for  the  sweet  Prince's  death,  in  pieces. 

Car,    This  hand  has  sav'd 
Their  fury  that  just  labour :  yet  I'll  make  80 

Use  of  their  malice.     Help  to  convey  him 
Into's  chamber.    [They  put  Mura's  body  behind  the  arras] 

Enter  Osman,  Gaselles,  SoldieiB 

Gas,    Where  is  this  villain,  this  traitor  Mura  ? 

Car.    Heaven  knows  what  violence 
Their  fury  may  assault  me  with ;  be't  death, 
'T  shall  be  as  welcome  as  sound  healthful  sleeps  85 

To  men  oppress'd  with  sickness.    What's  the  matter  ? 
What  means  this  outrage  ? 

Os.  Marry,  lady  gay, 

We're  come  to  cut  your  little  throat ;  pox  on  you. 
And  all  your  sex;  you've  caus'd  the  noble  Prince's 
Death  ;  wildfire  take  you  for't  1    We'll  talk  with  you  90 

At  better  leisure :  you  junst  needs  'be  ravished 
And  could  not,  like  an  honest  woman,  take 
The  courtesy  in  friendly  sort  I 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  525 

Gas.  We  trifle : 

Her  husband  may  escape  us.     Say,  where  is  he  ? 
Or  you  shall  die,  ere  you  can  pray. 

Soldiers,  [discovering  Mura's  body]    Here,  here!  95 

I  have  found  the  villain  !    What,  do  you  sleep  so  soundly  ? 
Ne'er  wake  more.  This  for  the  Prince,  you  rogue ! 
Lef  s  tear  him  piecemeal  1    Do  you  take  your  death 
In  silence,  dog  1 

Car.    You  appear  endow'd  with  some  humanity  ;  100 

You  have  ta'en  his  life  ;  let  not  your  hate  last  after  death  : 
Let  me  embalm  his  body  with  my  tears. 
Or  kill  me  with  him. 

Os.  Now  you've  said  the  word; 

We  care  not  if  we  do.  [S&ixing  Caropia] 

Enter  Tarifa^ 

Tar.  Slaves,  unhand 

The  lady ;  who  dares  o£Fer  her  least  violence;  105 

From  this  hand  meets  his  punishment.     Gaselles, 
Osman,  I  thought  you  had  been  better  tempered 
Than  thus  to  raise  up  mutinies.    In  the  name 
Of  Abrahen,  our  now  Caliph,  I  command  you 
Desist  from  these  rebellious  practices,  no 

And  quietly  retire  into  the  camp. 
And  there  expect  his  pleasure. 

Gas.  Abrahen  Caliph  I 

There  is  some  hopes,  then,  we  shall  gain  our  pardons. 
Long  live  great  Abrahen  1     Soldiers,  slink  away ; 
Our  vow  is  consummate. 

Car.    [Throws  hsrself  on  the  body]      O  my  dear  Lord  !       115 

Tar.    Be  gonet 

Os.  Yes,  as  quietly 

As  if  we  were  in  flight  before  the  foe ; 
The  general  pardon  at  Iflie  coronatiQii 
Will  bring  us  off,  Fm  sure. 

Tar.  Alas,  good  madam  1 

I'm  sorry  that  these  miseries  have  faU'n  120 

With  so  much  rigour  on  you ;  pray  take  comfort : 
Your  husband  prosecuted  with  too  much  violence 
Prince  Abilqualit's  ruin. 

Car.  It  appealed  so  1 

What  worlds  of  woe  have  hapless  £  giutti'  life  to. 
And  yet  survive 


526  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  V 

Tar.  Do  not  with  such  fury  125 

Torment  your  innocent  self.     I'm  sure  the  Emperor 
Abrahen  will  number  't  'mongst  his  greatest  sorrows 
That  he  has  lost  your  husband.     I  must  give  him 
Notice  of  these  proceedings.     Best  peace  keep  you. 
And  settle  your  distractions.  \Exii  Tarifa] 

Car.  Not  until  130 

I'm  settled  in  my  peaceful  urn.     This  is  yet 
Some  comfort  to  me»  'midst  the  floods  of  woes. 
That  do  overwhelm  me  for  the  Prince's  death. 
That  I  reveng'd  it  safely ;  though  I  prize 
My  life  at  no  more  value  than  a  foolish  135 

Ignorant  Indian  does  a  diamond. 
Which  for  a  bead  of  jet  or  glass  he  changes : 
Nor  would  I  keep  it,  were  it  not  with  fuller. 
More  noble  bravery,  to  take  revenge 

For  my  Lord  Abilqualit's  timeless  slaughter.  140 

I  must  use  craft  and  mystery.    Dissembling 
Is  held  the  natural  quality  of  our  sex, 
Nor  will't  be  hard  to  practise.    This  same  Abrahen, 
That  by  his  brother's  ruin  wields  the  sceptre. 
Whether  out  of  his  innocence  or  malice,  145 

'Twas  that  persuaded  me  to  accuse  him  of 
My  rape.     The  die  is  cast,  I  am  resolv'd : 
To  thee,  my  Abilqualit,  I  will  come ; 
A  death  for  love's  no  death,  but  majiyrdom.  -  Exit 

ACTUS  QUINTUS  SCENA    I 
[TA^  Camp,  (mtside  the  city] 

Enter  Abilqualit,  Selinthus,  Gaselles,  Osman,  Soldiers,  and  Mutes 

AM,    No  more,  good  faithful  soldiers  :  thank  the  powers 
Divine,  has  brought  me  back  to  you  in  safety. 
The  traitorous  practices  against  our  life, 
And  our  dear  father's,  poison'd  by  our  brother. 
We  have  discover'd,  and  shall  take  just  vengeance  5 

On  the  unnatural  parricide.     Retire 
Into  your  tents,  and  peacefully  expect 
The  event  of  things ;  you,  Osman  and  Gaselles, 
Shall  into  th'  dty  with  me*  ' 

0$.  We  will  maish 


Sc.  I]       REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR        527 

Through  the  world  with  thee,  dear  Sovereign,  10 

Great  Abilqualit. 

Abil.  Selinthus, 

Give  you  our  dear  Tarifa  speedy  notice 
We  are  agam  among  the  living  ;  pray  him 
To  let  our  loyal  subjects  in  the  city 

Have  sure  intelligence  of  our  escape  ;  15 

And,  dearest  friends  and  fellows,  let  not  your 
Too  loud  expressions  of  your  joy  for  our 
Unlook'd-for  welfare  subject  to  discovery 
Our  unexpected  safety. 

Sel,  Never  fear : 

They're  trusty  Myrmidons,  and  will  stick  close  20 

To  you,  their  dear  Achillea ;  but,  my  lord. 
The  wisest  may  imagine  it  were  safer 
For  you  to  rest  here  'mong  your  armed  legions 
Than  to  intrust  your  person  in  the  city. 

Where,  as  it  seems  by  the  past  story,  you'll  25 

Not  know  friends  from  enemies. 

Abil,  Selinthus, 

Thy  honest  care  declares  the  zealous  duty 
Thou  ow'st  thy  Sovereign :  but  what  danger  can 
Assault  us  there,  where  there  is  none  suspects 
We  are  alive  ?    We'll  go  survey  the  state  30 

Of  things ;  i'  th'  morning  we  will  seize  the  palace, 
And  then  proclaim  our  right.     Come,  valiant  captains. 
You  shall  be  our  companions. 

Gas,  And  we'll  guard  you 

Safe,  as  you  were  encompass'd  with  an  army. 

Sel,    You  guard  your  own  fools'  heads  1    Is't  fit  his  safety,     35 
On  which  our  lives  and  fortunes  have  dependence. 
Should  be  expos'd  unto  your  single  valour  ?    [To  Abilqualit] 
Pray  once  let  your  friends  rule  you,  that  you  may 
Rule  them  hereafter.    Your  good  brother  Abrahen 
Has  a  strong  faction,  it  should  seem,  1'  th'  Court :  40 

And  though  these  bloodhounds  foUow'd  the  scent  hotly 
Till  they  had  worried  Mura,  he  has  other 
Allies  of  no  mean  consequence,  your  eunuch, 
Mesithes,  his  chief  favourite,  and  Simanthes. 

Abil,    It  was  tiiat  villain  that  betray'd  my  love  45 

To  him  and  slaughter'd  Mura. 

Sel,  Very  likely. 

An  arranter,  falser  parasite  never  was 


528  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  V 

Cut  like  a  colt.     Pray,  sir,  be  wise  this  once 

At  my  entreaties ;  and  for  ever  after 

Use  your  discretion  as  you  please :  these  night-works  50 

I  do  not  like ;  yet  ere  the  morning  I 

Will  bring  Tanfa  to  you. 

AbiL    You  shall  o'errule  us.     Poor  Caropia,  these 
Thoughts  are  thy  vot'ries ;  Love,  thy  active  fire, 
Flames  out  when  present,  absent  in  desire.  Exmnt    55 

SCENA   II 

[A  Room  in  the  Couri] 
Enter  Abrahen  and  Simanthes 

Ahr,    What  state  and  dignitjr's  like  that  of  soeptns  ? 
With  what  an  awful  majesty  resembles  it 
The  powers  above  ?    The  ii^bitairts  of  that 
Superior  world  are  not  more  subject 

To  them  than  these  to  us ;  they  can*  but  txcmbk  5 

When  they  do  speak  in  thunder;  at  our  frowns 
These  shake  like  lambs  at  lightning.    Can  it  be 
Impiety  by  any  means  to  purchase 
This  earthly  deity.  Sovereignty  ?    I  did*  sieep 
This  night  with  as  secure  and  calm  a>  peace  10 

As  in  my  former  innocence.    Conscience, 
Thou'rt  but  a  terror,  fiiBt  devis'd  by  th'  fears 
Of  cowardice,  a  sad  and  fond  remembrance. 
Which  men  should  shun,  as  elephants  clear  springs. 
Lest  they  behold  their  own  deformities,  15 

And  start  at  their  grim  shadows. 

Entef  Mesithes 

Ha»  Mesithes  I 

Mes,    JSLy  royal  lord  I 

Ahr.  Call  me  ttij  friend,  Mesithes.; 

Thou  equally  dost  share  our  heart,  best  eunuch. 
There  is  not  in  the  stock  of  earthly  blessings 
Another  I  could  wish  to  make  my  state  20 

Completely  fortunate,  but  one ;  and  to 
Achieve  possession  of  that  bliss,  thy  diligence 
Must  be  the  fortunate  instrument. 

Mes,  Be  it  dangovovs 

As  the  afitrights  seamen  do  feign,  in  tempests, 
I'll  undertake  it  for  my  gracious  Sovereign,  25 

And  perish,  but  effect  it. 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  529 

Abr.  No,  there  is 

Not  the  least  show  of  peril  in't ;  'tis  the  want 
Of  fair  Caropia's  long-coveted  beauties, 
That  doth  afOict  thy  Abrahen.     Love.  Mesitiies, 
Is  a  most  stubborn  malady,  not  cor'd  36 

With  that  felicity  i&at  are  other  pasaioiis, 
And  creeps  upon  us  by  those  acmbushes 
That  we  perceive  ourselvtes  sooner  in  loiw 
Than  we  can  think  upoti  tlie  way  of  loving. 
The  old  flames  break  more  brighrtly  from  tt*  atbes  35 

Where  they  have  long  lain  hid,  ttke  the  young  ph^senix 
That  from  her  spicy  pile  revives  more  glorious. 
Nor  can  I  now  extinguisht;  it  has  pass'd 
The  limits  of  my  reason,  and  intend[s3 

My  will,  where  like  a  fix'd  star  't  settles,  40 

Never  to  be  removed  thence. 

Mes,  Cease  your  fears  ; 

I  that  could  win  her  for  your  brother,  who 
Could  not  boast  half  your  masculine  perfections. 
For  you  will  vanquish  her. 

Enter  Simanthes 

Sim.  My  lord,  the  widow 

Of  slaughtered  Mura,  fair  Caropia,  does  4$ 

Humbly  entreat  access  to  your  dread  presence ; 
Shall  we  permit  her  entrance  ? 

Abr,  Wth  all  freedom 

And  best  regard!   Mesithes,  this  arrives 
Beyond  our  wish,     m  try  my  eloquence 
In  my  own  cause ;  and  if  I  fail,  thou  then  50 

Shalt  be  my  advocate. 

Mes,  Your  humblest  vassal ! 

Abr,    Withdraw  and  leave  us. 
And  give  strict  order  none  approach  our  presence 
Till  we  do  call.     It  is  not  fit  her  sorrows 
Should  be  surveyed  by  common  eye. 

Enter   Caropia.  55 

Caropia,  welcome ; 
And  would  we  cotdd  as  easily  give  thee  comfort 
As  we  allow  thee  more  than  moderate  pity. 
In  tears  those  eyes  caist  forth  a  greater  lustre 
Than  sparkling  rocks  of  diamonds  enclos'd 
In  swelling  seas  of  pearl. 

C.D.W.  M  M 


530  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  V 

Cor.  Your  Majesty  60 

Is  pleased  to  wanton  with  my  miseries. 
Which  truly  you,  if  you  have  nature  in  you. 
Ought  to  bear  equal  part  in :  your  dear  brother's 
Untimely  loss,  occasion'd  by  my  falsehood 
And  your  improvident  counsel,  'tis  that  calls  65 

These  hearty  sorrows  up ;  I  am  his  murd'ress. 

Ahr,    'Twas  his  own  destiny,  not  oor  bad  intentioQS 
Took  him  away  from  earth ;  he  was  too  heavenly. 
Fit  only  for  th'  society  of  angels, 

'Mongst  whom  he  sings  glad  hymns  to  thy  perfections,  70 

Celebrating  with  such  eloquence  thy  beauties 
That  those  immortal  essences  forget 
To  love  each  other  by  intelligence, 
And  dote  on  the  idea  of  thy  sweetness. 

Car.  [fKide]      These  gentle  blandishments,  and  his  innocent     75 
carriage 
Had  I  as  much  of  malice  as  a  tigress 
Robb'd  of  her  young,  would  melt  me  into  meekness  ; 
But  I'll  not  be  a  woman. 

Abr,  Sing  out,  angel. 

And  charm  the  world,  were  it  at  mortal  difference. 
To  peace  with  thine  enchantments.    What  soft  murmurs      80 
Are  those  that  steal  through  those  pure  rosy  organs. 
Like  aromatic  west-winds,  when  they  fly 
Through  fruitful  mists  of  fragrant  morning's  dew. 
To  get  the  Spring  with  child  of  flowers  and  spices  ? 
Disperse  these  clouds  that  like  the  veil  of  night  85 

With  unbecoming  darkness  shade  thy  beauties  ; 
And  strike  a  new  day  from  those  orient  eyes. 
To  gild  the  world  with  brightness. 

Car,  Sir,  these  flatteries 

Neither  befit  the  ears  of  my  true  sorrows. 
Nor  yet  the  utt'rance  of  that  real  sadness  90 

Should  dwell  in  you.    Are  these  the  fun'ral  rites 
You  pay  the  memory  of  your  royal  father. 
And  much  lamented  brother  ? 

Ahr.  They  were  mortal ; 

And  to  lament  them,  were  to  show  I  envied 
Th'  immortal  jo3rs  of  that  true  happiness  95 

Their  glorious  souls  (disfranchis'd  from  their  flesh) 
Possess  to  perpetuity  and  fulness. 
Besides,  Caropia,  I  have  other  griefs 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  531 

More  near  my  heart,  that  drcle't  with  a  sickness 

Will  shortly  number  me  among  their  fellowship,  100 

If  speedier  remedy  be  not  applied 

To  my  most  desp'rate  malady. 

Car,  [aside]  I  shall 

(If  my  hand  fail  not  my  determined  courage) 
Send  you  to  their  society  far  sooner 

Than  you  expect  or  covet. — ^Why,  great  sir,  105 

What  grief,  unless  your  sorrow  for  their  loss, 
Is't  can  afflict  you,  that  command  all  blessings 
Men  witty  in  ambition  of  excess 
Can  wish  to  please  their  fancies  ? 

Abr.  The  want  only 

Of  that  which  I've  so  long  desir'd,  thy  love;  no 

Thy  love,  Caropia,  without  which  my  Empire, 
And  all  the  pleasures  flowing  from  its  greatness, 
Will  be  but  burdens,  soul-tormenting  troubles. 
There's  not  a  beam  shot  from  those  ghef-drown'd  comets 
But  (like  the  sun's,  when  they  break  forth  of  showers)         115 
Dart  flames  more  hot  and  piercing.    Had  I  never 
Doted  before  on  thy  divine  perfections. 
Viewing  thy  beauty  thus  adom'd  by  sadness, 
My  heart,  though  marble,  actuated  to  softness, 
Would  bum  like  sacred  incense,  itself  being  120 

The  altar,  priest,  and  sacrifice. 

Car,  This  is 

As  unexpected  as  unwelcome,  sir. 
Howe'er  you're  pleased  to  mock  me  and  my  griefs 
With  these  impertinent,  unmeant  discourses, 
I  cannot  have  so  prodigal  a  faith,  125 

To  give  them  the  least  credit ;  and  it  is 
Unkindly  done,  thus  to  deride  my  sorrows. 
The  virgin  turtles  hate  to  join  their  pureness 
With  widow'd  mates :  my  lord,  you  are  a  prince, 
And  such  as  much  detest  to  utter  falsehoods,  130 

As  saints  do  perjuries ;  why  should  you  strive  then 
To  lay  a  bait  to  captivate  my  affections 
When  your  greatness  conjoin'd  with  your  youth's  masculine 

beauties, 
Are  to  a  woman's  frailty  strong  temptations  ? 
You  know  the  story  too  of  my  misfortunes,  135 

That  your  dead  brother  did  with  vicious  looseness 
Corrupt  the  chaste  streams  of  my  spotless  virtues. 


532  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  V 

And  left  me  floiled  like  a  long-phick'di  rose. 

Whose  leaves  dissevered  have  foregone  tiieir  sweetness. 

Abf,    Thou  hast  not,  my  Caropta;  thon  to  me  140 

Art  for  thy  scent  still  fragrant,  axid  ^as  precioas 
As  the  prime  virgins  of  the  spring,  the  violets. 
When  they  do  first  display  their  early  beauties, 
Till  all  the  winds  in  love  do  grow  oontentioiis 
Which  from  their  lips  should  ravish  the  first  kisses.  145 

Caropia,  think'st  thou  I  should  fear  the  nuptials 
Of  this  great  Empire,  'cause  it  was  my  brcrther's  ? 
As  I  succeeded  him  in  all  his  gknies, 
'Tis  fit  I  do  succeed  him  in  his  \ove. 

'Tis  true,  I  know  thy  fame  fell  by  his  practice,  150 

Which  had  he  liVd,  he'd  have  restored  by  marriage. 
By  it  repair'd  thy  injur'd  honour's  ruins. 
I'm  bound  to  do  it  in  religious  consdenoe ; 
It  is  a  debt  his  incens'd  ghost  would  quarrel 
Me  living  Ux,  should  I  not  pa3r't  with  fulness.  155 

Car.    Of  what  fraU  temper  is  a  woman's  weakness  1 
Words  writ  in  waters  have  more  lasting  essence 
Than  our  determinations. 

Ahf,  Come,  I  know. 

Thou  must  be  gentle;  I  perceive  a  combat 
In  thy  soft  heart  by  th'  intervening  blushes  160 

That  strive  to  adorn  thy  cheek  with  purple  beauties. 
And  drive  the  lovely  livery  of  thy  sorrows. 
The  ivory  paleness,  out  of  them.    Think,  Caropia, 
With  what  a  settled,  unrevolting  trutii 

I  have  affected  thee,  with  what  heat,  what  pureness ;  165 

And  when,  upon  mature  considerations, 
I  found  I  was  unworthy  to  enjoy 
A  treasure  of  such  excellent  grace  and  goodness, 
I  did  desist,  smothering  my  love  in  anguish. 
Anguish,  to  which  the  soul  of  human  torments  170 

Compared,  were  pains,  not  easy,  but  delicious ; 
Yet  still  the  secret  flames  of  my  affections. 
Like  hidden  virtues  in  some  bashful  man. 
Grew  great  and  f erventer  by  those  suppressions. 
Thou  wert  created  only  for  an  Empress ;  175 

Despise  not  then  thy  destiny,  now  greatness. 
Love,  empire,  and  whate'er  may  be  held  glorious. 
Court  thy  aoceptance,  like  obedient  vassals. 

Cof,  [asidM\     I  have  oonBidcr'd,  and  my  serioaB  thoagtats 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  533 

Tell  me,  'tis  folly  to  xefuse  tfaeae  profifeis,  180. 

To*  put  ofE  my  mortality,  the  pleatuiea 

Of  life,  which  like  foil  atzaaiiis,  do  flowr  from  ftfiatOMSb 

To  wander  i'  th'  mpeopled  aij;  to  keep 

Society  with  ghastly  apparitions, 

Where's  neither  voice  of  friends,  nor  visiting  suitors'  185 

Breaths  to  delight  our  ears  ;  and  all  this  lor 

The  fame  of  a  fell  muvdcfess*    I  have  blood 

Enough  already  on  my  soul,  moos  thaar 

My  tears  can  e'er  wash  offi — My  imyal  lord. 

If  you  can  be  so  meitifQl  aad  grack>ii8,  xgo 

To  take  a  woman  laden  with  afflictions, 

Big  with  true  sorrow,  and  rehgious  penitence 

For  her  amiss,  her  life  and  after  actions 

Shall  study  to  deserve  }Ponr  love.     Bat  sareiy 

This  is  not  serioii& 

Abr,  liol  the  vows  which  vot'nes  195 

Make  to  the  powers  above,  can  be  mcnre  fraught 
With  binding  sanctity.    This  holy  kiss 
Confirms  our  miotual  vows;  never  ttll  now 
Was  I  true  Caliph  of  Ax&bta. 

[Cries  within]    Enter,  Enter.  Enter 

Ha,  what  tumult's  that  ? 

[EfUer  Abilqualit,  Tarifa,  Selintinis,  and  Soldien] 

Be  you  all  furies,  and  thou  the  greaf  st  of  devils,  200 

Abrahen  will  stand  you  all,  unmov'd  aa  mountains. 

This  good  sword. 

If  you  be  air,  shall  disenchant  yaoi  from 

Your  borrow'd  figures. 

AbiL  No,  iU-natur'd  monster. 

We're  all  corporeal,  and  survive  to  take  105 

Revenge  on  thy  inhuman  acts,  at  name 
Of  which  the  bashful  elements  do  shake 
As  if  they  teem'd  with  prodigies.    Dost  not  tremble 
At  thy  inhumaa  villaaies  ?    Dear  Caropia, 
Quit  the  infectious  viper,  lest  his  touch  axp 

Poison  thee  past  recovery, 

Abr.  No,  she  shaU  not ;  ISsinng  Caropia} 

Nor  you,  until  this  body  be  <me  wound. 
Lay  a  rude  hand  upon  me  t    AbUqualit, 


534  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  V 

Howe'er  thou  scap[ed]st  my  practices  with  life 

I  am  not  now  to  question ;  we  were  both  215 

Sons  to  one  father,  whom,  for  love  of  empire. 

When  I  believ'd  thee  strangled  by  those  Mutes, 

I  sent  to  his  eternal  rest :  nor  do  I 

Repent  the  fact  yet;  I  have  been  titled  Caliph 

A  day,  which  is  to  my  ambitious  thoughts  220 

Honour  enough  to  eternize  my  big  name 

To  all  posterity.     I  know  thou  art 

Of  valiant,  noble  soul ;  let  not  thy  brother 

Fall  by  ignoble  hands,  oppress'd  by  number ; 

Draw  thy  bright  weapon ;  as  thou  art  in  empire,  225 

Thou  art  my  rival  in  this  lady's  love, 

Whom  I  esteem  above  all  joys  of  life : 

For  her  and  for  this  monarchy  let* s  try 

Our  strengths  and  [fortunes]  :  the  impartial  Fates 

To  him  who  has  the  better  cause,  in  justice  230 

Must  needs  design  the  victory. 

AbiL  In  this  offer. 

Though  it  proceed  from  desperateness,  not  valour, 
Thou  show'st  a  masculine  courage,  and  we  will  not 
Render  our  cause  so  abject  as  to  doubt 

But  our  just  arm  has  strength  to  punish  thy  235 

Most  unheard-of  treacheries. 

Tar.  But  you  shall  not 

Be  so  unjust  to  us  and  to  your  right 
To  try  your  cause's  most  undoubted  justice 
Gainst  the  despairing  ruffian ;  soldiers,  puU 
The  lady  from  him,  and  disarm  himl 

Abil,  Stay !  240 

Though  he  doth  merit  muHitudes  of  death, 
We  would  not  murder  his  eternity 
By  sudden  execution ;  yield  yourself. 
And  we'U  allow  you  liberty  of  life. 

Till  by  repentance  you  have  purg'd  your  sin,  245 

And  so,  if  possible,  redeem  your  soul 
From  future  punishment. 

Abr,  Pish,  tell  fools  of  souls, 

And  those  effeminate  cowards  that  do  dream 
Of  those  fantastic  other  worlds  !  There  is 
Not  such  a  thing  in  nature ;  all  the  soul  250 

Of  men  is  resolution,  which  expires 
Never  from  valiant  men  till  their  last  breathy 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  535 

And  then  with  it,  like  to  a  flame  extinguish'd 

For  want  of  matter,  't  does  not  die,  but  rather 

Ceases  to  live.    Enjoy  in  peace  yonr  Empire,  255 

And  as  a  legacy  of  Abrahen's  love. 

Take  this  fair  lady  to  your  bride  I  Stabs  her 

Abil.  Inhuman  butcher  1 

Has  slain  the  lady.     Look  up,  best  Caropia. 
Run  for  our  surgeons  1  I'll  give  half  my  Empire 
To  save  her  precious  life. 

Abr,  She  has  enough,  260 

Or  mine  aim  fail'd  me,  to  procure  her  passage 
To  the  eternal  dwellings :  nor  is  this 
Cruelty  in  me  ;  I  alone  was  worthy 
To  have  enjoy'd  her  beauties.    Make  good  haste, 
Caropia,  or  my  soul,  if  I  have  any,  265 

Will  hover  for  thee  in  the  clouds.      [Showing  the  handkerchief] 

This  was 
The  fatal  engine  which  betray'd  our  father 
To  his  untimely  death,  made  by  Simanthes 
For  your  use,  Abilqualit ;  and  who  has  this 
About  him,  and  would  be  a  slave  to  your  base  mercy,  270 

Deserved  death  more  than  by  daily  tortures ; 
And  thus  I  kiss'd  my  last  breath.    Blast  you  all  1        Dies 

Tar.    Damn'd  desperate  villain  ! 

Abil.  O  my  dear  Caropia, 

My  Empire  now  will  be  unpleasant  to  me 
Since  1  must  lose  thy  company.     This  surgeon  ;  275 

Where's  this  surgeon  ? 

Set,  Drunk,  perhaps  I 

Car,  'Tis  but  needless. 

No  human  help  can  save  me :  yet  methinks 
I  feel  a  kind  of  pleasing  ease  in  your 
Embraces.    I  should  utter  something. 

And  I  have  slrengUi  enough,  I  hope,  left  yet  280 

To  efEect  my  purpose.     In  revenge  for  your 
Suppos'd  death,  my  lov'd  lord,  I  slew  my  husband — 

A  bil.    I'm  sorry  thou  hast  that  sin  to  charge  thy  soul  with  ; 
'Twas  rumour'd  by  the  soldiers. 

Sel,  Cousins  mine. 

Your  necks  are  safe  again  now. 

Car.  And  came  hither  283 

V^th  an  intent  to  have  for  your  sake  slain  your  brother 
Abrahen; 


536  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Act  V 

Had  not  his  courtesy  aAd  wimung  carriage 

Altered  my  resolution^  with  this  poniard 

I'd  struck  him  here  about  the  heart.  Siabs  Abilqoalit 

Abil,  O  I  am  slain,  Carc^ia, 

And  by  tby  hand.    Heavens.  3roa  ars  just ;  this  is  290 

Revenge  ior  tiby  daar  honour,  which  I  murder'd. 
Though  thou  wert  consenting  to  it. 

Car,  True,  I  was  so» 

And  not  repent  it  yet ;  my  sole  ambition 
Was  to  have  liv'd  an  Emprcas;  tirliich  since  Fate 
Would  not  allow,  I  was  resolv'd  bo  vtoman  295 

After  myself  should  e'er  enjoy  that  glory 
[With]  you,  dear  Abilqualit ;  which  since  my 
Weak  strength  has  serv'd  me  to  perfonn,  I  die 
WOlingly  as  an  infant.     Oh  now  I  faint  1 
Life's  death  to  those  that  keep  it  by  coDstraint.  Dies  300 

Tar.    My  dear  lord, 
Is  there  no  hopes  of  life  ?  Must  we  be  wretdied  ? 

Abil.    Happier,  my  Tarifa,  by  my  death : 
But  yesterday  I  play'd  the  paxt  in  jest 

Which  I  now  act  in  earnest.    My  Tarifa,  305 

The  Empire's  thine,  I'm  sure  thou'It  rvle't  with  justice. 
And  make  the  subject  happy.    Thou  bast  a  soit 
Of  hopeful  growing  virtues  to  succeed  thee ; 
Commend  me  to  him,  and  from  me  entreat  him 
To  shun  the  temptings  of  lasdvious  glances.  310 

SeL     'Las,  good  Prince  I 
He'll  die  indeed,  I  fear,  he  is  so  full 
Of  serious  thoughts  and  counsels. 

Abil.  For  this  slaughter'd  body. 

Let  it  have  decent  burial  witii  sljaift  Mura's; 
But  let  not  Abrahen's  coipse  have  so  OMicfa  honour  315 

To  come  i'  th'  royal  monumusnt ;  lay  mine 
By  my  dear  father's :  for  that  treacbecous  e«iiiid^ 
And  Lord  Simanthes,  use  them  as  thy  justice 
Tells  thee  they  huve  meriiled ;  for  Loid  Selinthus, 
Advance  him,  my  Tari^  he's  d  laithlttl  320 

And  weU-deserving  virtues. 

SeL  So  I  am, 

I  thought  'twould  come  to  me  aao».     Poor  Prince, 
I  e'en  could  die  with  him. 

Abil.    And  for  those  soldiers,  and  those  our  most  faitiifal 
Mutes,  that  my  life  once  sav'd,  let  them  be  well  325 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  537 

Rewarded ;  Death  and  I  are  almost  now 

At  unity.     Farewell  I  Dies 

Tar.  Sure  I  shall  not 

Survive  these  sorrows  long.    Mutes,  take  those  traitors 
To  prison ;  we  will  shortly  pass  their  sentence. 
Which  shall  be  death  inevitable.    Take  up  330 

That  fatal  instrument  of  poisonous  mischief. 
And  see  it  bum'd,  Gaselles.    Gentlemen, 
Fate  has  made  us  your  king  against  our  wishes. 

SeL    Long  live  Tarifa,  Caliph  of  Arabia ! 

Tor.     We  have  no  time  now  for  your  acclamations  ;  335 

These  are  black  Sorrow's  festivals.     Bear  ofE 
In  state  that  royal  body ;  for  the  other. 
Since  'twas  his  will,  let  them  have  burial. 
But  in  obscurity.     By  this  it  may. 

As  by  an  ev'dent  rule,  be  understood,  340 

They're  only  truly  great  wh'  are  truly  good. 

Recorders,     Flourish.    Exeunt  amnes 


FINIS 


EPILOGUE 

I'm  much  displeas'd  the  poet  has  made  me 

The  Epilogue  to  his  sad  tragedy. 

Would  I  had  died  honestly  amongst  the  rest, 

Rather  than  Uve  to  th'  last,  now  to  be  press'd 

To  death  by  your  hard  censures.     Pray  you  say  5 

What  is  it  you  dislike  so  in  this  play. 

That  none  applauds  ?     Believe  it,  I  should  faint, 

Did  not  some  smile,  and  keep  me  by  constraint 

From  the  sad  qualm.    What  pow'r  is  in  your  breath. 

That  you  can  save  alive,  and  doom  to  death,  10 

Even  whom  you  please  ?     Thus  are  your  judgments  free ; 

Most  of  the  rest  are  slain,  you  may  save  me. 

But  if  death  be  the  word,  I  pray  bestow  it 

Where  it  best  fits :  hang  up  the  poet. 


NOTES 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

INTRODUCTION 

Bussy  D'Afkbois,  Chapman's  most  famous  play,  is  the  first  in  date  of 
his  surviving  tragedies.  It  was  entered  in  the  Stationers*  Registers,  June 
3,  1607,  and  was  published  in  the  same  year  with  the  following  title- 
page  :  Bussy  D'Ambois  :  A  Tragedie  :  As  it  hath  "been  often  presented 
at  Paules,  London.  P^rinted  for  Wflliam  Aspley,  1607.  A  reissue  in 
1608  differs,  so  far  as  I  have  noted,  only  in  the  date  upon  the  title- 
page.  The  second  quarto,  published  in  1641,  with  the  foUowing  title- 
page  :  Bussy  D*Ambois  :  A  Tragedie :  As  it  hath  been  often  Acted  with 
great  Applause.  Being  much  corrected  and  emended  by  the  Author  before 
his  death.  London.  Fainted  by  A.  N.  for  Robert  Lunne,  1 641 ,  presents, 
however,  a  thorough  revision  of  the  pJay. 

The  date  of  composition  of  Bussy  has  been  a  matter  of  considerable 
dispute.  For  a  detailed  statement  of  my  view  on  this  matter  and 
an  exhibition  of  the  evidence  on  which  it  is  based  I  must  refer  the 
reader  to  an  article  in  The  Modern  Language  Review  for  January, 
1 908.  Here  I  may  be  permitted  merely  to  restate  my  conclusions.  Bussy 
was,  I  take  it,  composed  for  the  Children  of  the  Chapel  shortly  after  the 
death  of  Elizabeth,  and  in  1603  or  1604  was  earned  over  in  MS. — 
perhaps  before  it  had  been  acted — to  the  rival  company  of  boy  actors, 
the  Children  of  Paul's,  by  whom  it  was,  as  the  titie-page  of  the  first 
edition  tells  us, '  often  presented '.  It  was  revised,  probably  for  a  new 
production  at  Whitefriars  by  Nat.  Field,  about  16 10,  and  this  revised 
form  was  transferred  by  him  in  MS.  to  the  King's  Men,  Shakespeare's 
old  Company,  by  whom  it  was  performed  at  Court  so  late  as  1634, 
about  a  month  before  Chapman's  death.  As  the  Prologue  to  the 
second  quarto  shows,  another  company  had  also  performed  the  play, 
but  the  King's  Men  were  by  no  means  disposed  to  relinquish  their 
claim,  and  revived  it  with  Ilyard  Swanston  in  the  title-r61e.  It 
remained  in  their  possession  till  just  before  the  closing  of  the  theatres 
in  1642,  when  they  allowed  it  to  be  printed. 

The  career  of  Bussy  upon  the  stage  did  not  come  to  an  end  with 
the  closing  of  the  theatres.  It  was  brought  upon  the  boards  again 
after  the  Restoration.  Mrs.  Pepys  saw  it  on  December  30,  i6i3i  ; 
but  her  report  does  not  seem  to  have  inspired  the  diarist  with 
curiosity  enough  to  attend  a  performance,  sdthough  on  November 
15  of  the  following  year  he  bought  a  copy,  read  part  of  it,  and  pro- 
nounced it  a  good  play.  Severer  critics  like  Dryden  ^  condemned 
it  as  a  '  hideous  mingle  of  false  poetry  and  true  nonsense ';  but  the 
performance  of  the  part  of  Bussy  by  '  that  eternally  renowned  and 
best  of  actors ',  Charles  Hart,  '  so  attracted  the  town  in  general  that 
they  were  obliged  to  pass  by  and  excuse  the  gross  errors  in  writing, 
and  allow  it  amongst  the  rank  of  the  Topping  Tragedies  of  that  time '.  * 


1  Se6  the  DOicoHon  of  The  Spameh  Friof,  i68z. 

*  See  D'Urfey,  Dedication  of  Bussy  D'Ambois  or  The  Husband^s  Reeemge. 

641 


542  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

After  Hart's  death  in  1683  the  play  seems  to  have  been  laid  aside  for 
a  time,  until  it  was  revived  in  D'Urfey's  adaptation,  Bussy  D'Ambois 
or  The  Husband's  Revenge,  at  the  Theatre  Rojral  in  169 1.  Scandalous 
as  was  D'Urfey's  distortion  of  the  old  play,  it  was  apparentiy  well  re- 
ceived by  the  audience,  '  whose  applause '  says  D'Urfey  '  declared 
their  satisfaction '.  This  was  due,  no  doubt,  in  great  part  to  the  acting, 
for  some  of  the  best  players  of  the  time  took  part  in  the  performance. 
The  iU'fated  Mountf ort  played  Bussy ;  Kynaston,  the  last  of  the  old 
boy-actors,  took  the  part  of  Guise ;  Powell  played  Montsurry ;  CoUey 
Cibber,  then  at  the  beginning  of  his  career,  had  the  nine-line  part  of 
Pyrrot,  and  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Bracegirdle  took  the  part  of  Tamyra. 
Only  one  performance  of  D'Urfey's  travesty,  however,  is  recorded  by 
Genest,  and  it  may  well  be  that,  in  spite  of  the  acting,  the  satisfaction 
of  the  audience  was  hardly  so  complete  as  D'Urfey  would  have  us 
believe. 

The  exact  source  of  Chapman's  play  has  not  yet  been  discovered. 
De  Thou's  Historiae  Sui  Temporis  has  been  named  as  a  source  by  Lang- 
baine  and  others,  but  as  Koeppel  has  shown  1  the  portion  of  De  Thou's 
work  published  before  1607  only  comes  down  to  the  year  1574,  whereas 
Hussy's  death  occurred  in  1579.     De  Thou's  account  of  this  incident 
appears  for  the  first  time,  according  to  Boas,9  in  the  edition  published 
at  Geneva  in  1620,  Liber  Ixviii.,  9.      No  account  of  Bussy 's  love  and 
death  has  yet  been  found  in  print  prior  to  the  appearance  of  Chapman's 
play,  and  it  must,  therefore,  be  left  undecided  whether  Chapman  derived 
his  materials  from  some  source  now  lost  or  simply  from  the  conmion 
knowledge  of  the  day.     The  latter,  though  less  likely,  is  by  no  means 
impossible,  for  Bussy  was  a  figure  of  no  inconsiderable  importance 
in  his  time.     He  was  the  favourite  of  Monsieur,  then  heir-apparent 
to  the  throne  of  France,  the  lover  of  Marguerite  of  Valois,  wife  of 
Henry  IV,  and  a  personage  famous  even  at  the  Court  of  Henry  IH 
for  his  amours,  his  insolence,  and  his  fiery  courage.     He  was  men- 
tioned in  contemporary  despatches  by  the  agents  of  Venice  and  Florence 
at  the  Court  of  France,  by  Brantome,  Pierre  de  I'Estoile,  De  Thou, 
D'Aubign6,   Marguerite   de   Valois — ^in  short  by  all    the    historians 
and  memoir  writers  of  that  age.     Chapman  may,  I  think,  have  known 
quite  enough  of  the  life  of  such  a  personage  to  compose  his  drama 
without  having  had  recourse  to  any  printed  documents. 

A  brief  sketch  of  Bussy's  life,  founded  in  the  main  upon  Joubert's 
monograph  will  put  the  reader,  in  whom  Chapman's  knowledge  can 
hardly  be  presupposed,  in  possession  of  the  main  facts.  Louis  de 
Clermont  d'Amboise,  Seigneur  de  Bussy,  was  bom  in  1 549.  Like)most 
young  noblemen  of  his  time  he  followed  the  wars,  and  at  the  early 
age  of  eighteen  was  commander  of  a  company.  During  the  massacre 
of  St.  Biartholomew  he  murdered  his  cousin,  Antoine  de  Qermont, 
Marquis  de  Renel,  a  Huguenot,  with  whom  he  had  been  engaged  in 
a  law-suit.  He  was  repeatedly  wounded  in  the  wars  that  followed 
the  massacre,  and  in  1575  was  appointed  a  colonel  in  the  service  of 
Monsieur,  for  whom  he  left  the  service  of  the  King.     He  distinguished 

^  QueUen  und  Forschungen:    QueUen-siudien  su  den  Dramen  Ckapmans, 

1897. 
*    Bussy  D*AfHbois,  edited  by  F.  S.  Boas,  1905,  p.  xvii. 

'  Louis  de  Clermont,  Siewr  de  Bussy  d^Amboise,  Andr6  Joubert,  Angers  et 

Paris*  Z885. 


INTRODUCTION  543 

himself  at  Court,  particularly  by  his  ungovernable  temper  and  his 
quarrels  with  the  King's  minions,  and  even  became  involved  in  a 
dispute  with  the  great  Duke  of  Guise.  Monsieur  appointed  him 
Governor  of  his  province  of  Anjou  in  1575,  and  it  was  here,  apparently, 
that  he  first  met  the  lady  who  was  to  be  the  cause  of  his  tragic  death. 

Fran9oise  de  Maridort,  widow  of  the  Baron  de  Luc6,  married  as  her 
second  husband  Charles  de  Chambes,  Comte  de  Monsoreau,  Chapman's 
Mootsurry.  Monsoreau  held  at  this  time  the  post  of  Grand  Huntsman 
to  Monsieur,  to  which  he  seems  to  have  been  appointed  by  Bussy's 
influence.  Bussy  piusued  his  passion  for  the  Countess  with  all  the 
ardour  of  a  Frenchman  of  the  Renaissance,  but,  if  the  account  of 
Rosset  ^  may  be  trusted,  without  success.  He  finally,  however,  pre- 
vailed upon  the  lady  to  promise  him  an  assignation,  whereupon  he 
wrote  in  high  glee  to  Monsieur  that  he  had  trapped  '  la  biche  du  grand 
veneur'.  Monsieur,  either  carelessly  or  weary  of  Bussy's  wayward 
insolence,  showed  tiie  letter  to  the  King,  who  heartily  detested  his 
brother's  favourite.  Henry  retained  the  letter,  showed  it  at  the  first 
opportunity  to  Monsoreau,  and  advised  him  to  have  a  care  to  his 
honour.  Monsoreau  returned  at  once  to  his  chateau,  La  Coutancidre, 
held  a  pistol  to  his  wife's  head,  and  farced  her  to  invite  Bussy  to  the 
chateau  on  the  night  of  Au^st  15,  1 579.  When  Bussy  came,  unarmed 
and  with  but  one  compamon,  he  was  set  upon  by  Monsoreau  and  a 
band  of  bravoes.  He  made  a  desperate  defence,  but  was  finally  over- 
powered and  slain  while  attempting  to  leap  from  the  window.  Accord- 
mg  to  RoGset's  account  which  Dumas  has  followed  in  his  famous 
novel.  La  Dame  de  Monsoreau,  Bussy  sprang  from  the  window,  but  was 
impaled  on  an  iron  railing  and  despatched  by  the  murderers. 
The  news  of  his  death  was  carried  to  Monsieur  in  London  where  he 
was  courting  Queen  Elizabeth,  but  affected  him  so  little  that  he  was 
gravely  suspected  of  having  been  privy  to  the  murder.  At  Court, 
however,  Bussy  was  moum^,  according  to  the  letter  of  Saracini,  to 
the  Grand  Duke  of  Florence,  even  by  his  enemies,  who  attributed  to 
him,  besides  his  excellence  in  arms,  a  singular  degree  of  culture,  grace, 
and  courtesy. 

Chapman,  the  reader  of  the  play  will  have  noticed,  has  departed 
in  one  material  incident  from  the  historic  account  of  Bussy's  death. 
Curiously  enough  Dumas  makes  the  same  alteration  of  facts.  Both 
the  English  poet  and  the  French  novelist  make  Monsieur,  not  the  King, 
the  direct  informant  of  Monsoreau,  and  both  attribute  Monsieur's 
wrath  against  his  old  favourite  to  his  discovery  of  the  fact  that  Bussy 
had  outstripped  him  in  the  race  for  the  favours  of  Monsoreau 's  wife. 
It  is  most  unhkely  that  this  common  departure  from  history  should 
be  a  mere  coincidence,  and  it  is  quite  incredible  that  Dumas,  or  the 
collaborator  who  supplied  him  with  the  materials  for  La  Dame  de 
Monsoreau,  should  have  been  acquainted  with  Chapman's  play.  It 
seems  probable,  theref<ve,  that  there  should  have  been  some  common 
source  as  yet  unknown.  If  any  account  of  Bussy  should  be  hereafter 
discovered  which  attributes  his  death  to  Monsieur's  jealousy  and 
thwarted  passion  for  Monsoreau's  wife,  we  may  at  once  accept  it  as 
the  direct  source  of  the  romance  of  Dumas  and  as  representing,  at  least, 
a  tradition  familiar  to  Chapman. 

"^  Les  Histoires  Tragiques  de  Nosire  Temps :  De  la  mart  pUoyMe  du  valeuf- 
eux  Lysis,  1615. 


544  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

In  the  matter  of  construction  Bussy  D'Ambois  is  Chapman's  msster- 
piece  in  tragedy.  Mr.  Boas  rightly  caBs  attention  to  '  the  ingenuity 
and  skill  with  which  he  has  woven  into  the  texture  of  his  drama  a 
number  of  varied  threads '.  The  numerous  incidents  of  Bussy 's  adven- 
turous career  are  brought  into  one  focus,  and  so  arranged  as  to  lead 
on  step  by  step  from  his  first  appearance  as  a  poor  s<ddier  to  his  rise 
to  the  position  of  the  Kmg's  prime  favourite,  and  again  to  his  fall 
and  death  at  the  hands  of  Monsieur,  Guise,  and  Montsunry.  There' 
is  in  the  aivangement  and  cambinatiaa  of  these  incidents  a  complete 
departure  from  the  old-fashioned  mmc  method  of  dramatizing  a  hero's 
life.  Chapman  here  reveals  himself  for  what  he  was,  a  careful  student 
of  classical,  especially  of  Senecan,  tragedy,  the  worthy  peer  in  this 
field  of  Ben  Jonson  in  the  realm  of  comedy.  And  the  mflnenoe  of 
Seneca  is  shown  not  alone  in  the  oondoisatian  and  interlinking  of 
the  incidents,  but  in  various  devices,  faniiliai'  to  aU  stvdents  of  EHsa- 
bethan  drama  as  signs  of  Senecan  dominance,  in  the  sententious  pro- 
logue, in  the  substitution  of  the  stately  rhetoric  of  the  Nuntius  ior 
the  actual  representation  of  such  an  incident  as  the  dud,  in  the  intro- 
duction of  ghostly  and  supernatural  agencies  to  add  awe  and  dignity 
to  the  action.  Yet  Chapman  is  no  blind  follower  of  Seneca;  his 
long  experience  as  a  hack-writer  for  Henslowe's  company,  his  intimacy 
wititi  such  an  actor  as  Field,  had  taught  him  something  of  the  popular 
requirenients  in  a  tragedy.  In  Bussy  he  submits  more  readily  than 
elsewhere  to  the  popular  demand,  and  by  tins  very  submission  imparts 
to  this  j>lay  a  realism  and  sense  of  vigorous  hie,  which  is  noticeably 
absent  m  much  of  his  graver  work.  The  vivid  realism  of  the  Court 
scenes,  especially  of  Bussy's  quarrel  with  the  minions  and  with  Guise, 
the  satiric  humour  of  such  dialogues  as  those  between  Bussy  and  ttie 
vain  and  greedy  steward,  Mafi^,  and  between  Maff6  and  his  terrified 
niaster,  the  invocation  of  the  Devil,  couched  in  the  manner  of  Mar- 
lowe, and,  above  all,  the  scenes  of  torture,  of  combat,  and  of  murd^ 
in  the  last  act,  bear  convincing  witness  to  the  ^t  that  Chapman, 
in  this  play  at  least,  was  no  clo^t  dramatist. 

The  special  glory  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  is  its  power  of  char- 
acterization. Not  only  Shakespeare,  but  some  even  of  the  least  dis- 
tinguished of  his  fellows,  possessed  the  Promethean  heat  that  kmdles 
into  life  the  creations  of  the  mind.  Chapman,  however,  had 
less  of  this  genuine  creative  power  than  many  a  meaner  poet.  With 
one  or  two  exceptions  the  figures  in  Bussy,  as  in  most  of  his  tragedies, 
are  stock  figures,  types,  rather  than  strongly  realized  individuals. 
In  the  figure  of  the  King,  for  example,  there  is  not  only  no  effort  to 
realize  the  strange  c(»npound  of  sensualism,  superstition,  cowardice, 
and  ferocity  which  characterized  the  last  of  the  Valois,  but  there  is 
apparently  no  effort  to  present  any  personaJity  whatsoever.  Henry 
is  simply  the  King  qita  King,  a  mouthpiece  for  arave  and  lofty  senti- 
ments such  as  befit  the  mouth  of  a  monarch.  In  the  same  way  the 
Guise  and  Monsieur  are  only  types,  the  first  of  the  great  noble  offended 
by  the  upstart  favourite,  the  second  of  the  ambitious  and  villainous 
intriguer.  And  there  is  one  scene,  at  least,  the  second  of  the  fifth  act, 
where  even  this  pretence  at  characterization  disappears,  and  Monsieur 
and  the  Guise  become  mere  figures  of  a  chorus  to  moralize  and  philoso- 
phize over  the  impending  fate  of  Bussy.  Yet  there  are  touches  even 
m  these  minor  figures,  such  as  the  blending  in  Monsieur  of  iear  and 
hatred  of  Bussy,  or  the  revulsion  of  outraged  love  to  savage  cruelty 


INTRODUCTION  543 

in  Montsurry,  which  show  plainly  enough  that  Chapman  did  not  wholly 
lack  the  Elizabethan  gift  of  character  divinati<Hi  and  the  power  of 
character  portrayal,  obscured  and  interrupted  as  these  were  in  him 
by  other  and,  in  his  judgment,  higher  qualities. 

The  full-length  portraits  of  the  play  are  those  of  Bussy  himself  and 
his  mistress  Tamyra,  In  the  latter  Chapman  has  set  himself  one  of 
the  most  difficult  of  tasks,  the  portrajral  of  a  woman,  not  naturally 
vicious,  but  overcome  by  a  sudden  and  irresistible  passion,  striving  to 
the  last  to  keep  up  appearances,  and  yet  torn  inwardly  by  the  struggle 
between  her  passion  and  the  sense  of  guilt.  Such  a  character  is  by  no 
means  inconceivable,  but  to  realize  it  within  the  limits  of  the  drama 
would  tax  the  powers  of  Shakespeare  himself,  and  not  the  most  enthu- 
siastic of  Chapman's  admirers  would  claim  that  ^e  has  wholly  succeeded 
in  his  task.  A  close  study  of  the  play  wiU  reveal  touch  after  touch 
by  which  Chapman  has  striven  to  give  reality  to  his  conception,  and 
•it  is,  perhaps,  impossible  to  point  out  a  single  flaw  or  inconsistency  in 
the  character ;  but  it  is  laboriously  composed  rather  than  created. 
In  the  slang  phrase  of  criticism  it  is  not '  convincing '.  Nor  is  it  sympa- 
thetic, for  the  reader,  who  is  attracted  by  the  romantic  passion  of 
Tamyra,  is  repelled  by  her  hypocritical  insistence  upon  the  proprieties 
and  the  cool  effrontery  of  her  denial  of  guilt.  The  truth  seems  to  be 
tliat  such  a  character  as  Chapman  had  conceived  is  wholly  out  of  place 
in  romantic  tragedy. 

It  is  otherwise  with  the  figure  of  Bussy.  The  long  and  successful 
career  of  this  play  upon  the  stage  is  convincing  proof  of  the  sympathetic 
and  dramatically  efiecttve  character  of  the  hero,  for,^from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  acting  drama,  Bussy  is  the  whole  play.  His  long  tirades 
in  Chapman's  finest  style  of  impassioned  rhetoric  must  have  furnished 
a  splendid  opportunity  to  an  actor  of  the  old  declamatory  school; 
and  even  after  the  Elizabethan  delight  in  passionate  and  ornate  speech 
had  died  out,  the  character  of  Bussy,  as  D'Urfey's  testimony  proves, 
continued  to  fascinate  the  house,  mainly,  we  may  believe,  by  its  fiery 
energy  of  action. 

This,  indeed,  is  the  first  and  most  striking  characteristic  of  Bussy. 
He  is  primarily  a  figure  of  the  school  of  Msurlowe :  one  of  the  Titan 
brood  of  Elizabethsm  drama,  '  a  spirit  beyond  the  reach  of  fear ',  a 
character  of  unrestrained  will  and  boundless  ambition.  There  is,  to 
be  sure,  no  definite  goal  indicated  for  his  ambition  as  in  Tambuflaine 
or  Dr,  Faustus,  The  passion  that  dominates  him  is  a  desire  for  self- 
fulfilment,  a  lust  to  realize  himself  in  and  work  his  will  upon  the  world 
in  which  he  lives.  And  this  passionate  desire  is  attended  by  a  self- 
confidence  which,  in  the  hero's  mind,  is  the  surest  guarantee  of  success. 
Bussy  is  no  man  of  doubts  and  scruples.  Obstacles  confront  him 
only  to  be  surmounted.  If  he  meets  an  enemy,  he  must  slay  him ; 
if  he  loves  a  woman,  he  must  seize  upon  her.  Conventions  and  moral 
laws  alike  go  down  before  him. 

It  is  this  self-confidence  which  enables  Bussy  to  run  his  brief  but 
splendid  career  so  triumphantly,  to  brave  the  Guise,  to  browbeat  the 
heir  to  the  throne,  to  confront  the  spirit  of  evil  himself,  and  at  the 
last,  when  trapped  by  treachery,  to  die  like  a  Roman  emperor,  con- 
senting rather  than  yielding  to  death. 

If  we  look  below  the  surface  for  the  ground  of  Bussy's  self-confidence, 
we  come  at  once  upon  an  element  in  his  character  which  sharply  dis- 
tinguishes him  from  the  Titanic,  but  simple,  heroes  of  Marlowe.    Bussy 

C.D.W.  N  N 


546  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

is  not  a  mere  bustling  man  of  action,  much  less  a  braggart  or  miles 
gloriosus.  Rather  he  is  the  embodiment  of  an  idea  which  Chapman 
derived  from  the  Stoics,  that  of  the  self-sufficiency,  the  all-sufficiency, 
of  the  virtuous  man.  Bussy,  it  is  true,  is  far  from  virtuous  in  our 
modem  sense  of  the  word,  but  he  is  the  very  incarnation  of  virius,  as 
the  Romans  understood  it,  '  the  sum  of  aU  the  bodily  and  mental 
excellences  of  man '.  His  bitterest  enemy  pronounces  him  '  young, 
learned,  valiant,  virtuous,  and  fuU-mann'd  .  It  is  his  firm  retiance 
upon  virtue  so  understood,  that  gives  Bussy  his  unquenchable  setf- 
oonfidence.    He  knows  that 

Who  to  himself  is  Utw,  no  Utm  doth  need, 
.  Offends  no  law,  and  is  a  hing  indeed. 

It  is  not  by  chance,  nor  as  a  mere  Uterary  ornament,  that  Chapman, 
as  Mr.  Boas  ^  has  shown,  puts  into  the  mouth  of  the  dying  Bussy  lines 
borrowed  from  the  death-scene  of  the  Senecan  Hercules.  Like  Her- 
cules, Chapman's  Bussy  has  been  the  self-reliant  hero  who  pitted  his 
own  strength  and  '  virtue '  against  a  hostile  world,  and  like  Hercules 
he  falls  at  last  a  victim  to  inevitable,  because  unsuspected,  fate.  It 
is  this  philosophic  conception  of  the  '  noblesse '  of  man — ^to  use  a 
favourite  term  of  Chapman's — ^that  has  transformed  the  splendid 
swashbuckler  of  the  French  court  into  a  type  of  man  at  war  with  the 
world.  That  is  the  true  theme  of  the  tragedy  of  Bussy  D'Ambois^ 
not  the  hero's  passion  for  Tamyra  and  its  fotal  consequences,  for  the 
amour  is  plainly  enough  only  an  incident  in  Bossy's  career,  but  the 
struggle  of  such  a  character  with  his  environment,  the  combat  of  the 
individualist  against  the  world,  and  his  fall — ^not  so  much  at  the  hands 
of  Guise  and  Monsieur,  as  of  Death  and  Destiny.  And  the  tragic 
lesson  of  the  play  is  summed  up  in  the  last  words  of  Bussy: 

O  frail  condition  of  strength,  valour,  virtue. 
In  me  (like  warning  fire  upon  the  top 
Of  some  steep  beacon  on  a  steeper  Ml) 
Made  to  express  it :  like  a  falling  star 
SilenUy  glanced,  that  lihe  a  thunderboU 
Looh'd  to  have  stuck  arui  shook  the  firmament. 


^  Boas,  pp.  xviii-zix. 


BUSSY    D'AMBOIS 

NOTES 

Pioloffae.  The  Prologue  does  not  u>pear  in  the  Qq.  of  2607  or  1608,  and  was 
in  all  probability  composed  not  by  Chapman  at  the  time  of  his  revision  of 
the  play,  but  by  another  writer  for  a  late  revival  of  the  play  by  the  King's 
Men.^ 

The  occasion  of  this  revival  seems  to  have  been  the  performance  of  Bussy 
by  another  company  than  the  King's  Men.  The  latter,  miwilling  to  quit 
their  claim  upon  the  play,  brought  it  once  more  upon  the  stage,  although,  as 
is  evident  from  the  closing  lines  of  the  Prologue,  they  were  uncertain  whether 
the  present  impersonator  of  the  hero  would  be  able  to  maintain  the  traditions 
set  by  Field,  and  by  '  one  who  came  the  nearest  to  him '.  This  latter  actor, 
now  too  old  to  take  the  part  of  Bussy  (11.  X6-9),  has  not  been  identified ; 
but  the '  third  man  '  (1.  21  h  i.e.  the  present  actor  of  the  part,  has  been  plausibly 
identified  by  Fleay  {Biog.  Chron,  vol.  i,  p.  60),  with  Ilyard,  or  Elliard,  Swanston, 
a  member  of  the  King's  Men  from  1625-42  (Fleay,  Biog.  Chron.  vol.  i.  p. 
60),  whose  performance  of  Bussy  is  alluded  to  by  Edmund  Gayton  in  1654 

iPUasant  Notes  on  Don  guixoUj  p.  25).  Swanston's  '  Richard  '  (1.  23),  may 
lave  been  the  part  of  Ricardo  m  Massinger's  The  Picture  (which  he  is  known 
to  have  played  m  1629,  licensed  by  Herbert,  June  8, 1629 ;  see  Malone-Boswell, 
Shakespewe,  vol.  iii,  p.  230),  or  possibly  that  of  Shakespeare's  Richard  III. 
Bussy  D*Ambois  was  periormed  at  Court,  in  the  cockpit  at  Whitehall,  by 
the  King's  Men  on  Easter  Monday  night,  i.e.j  April  7, 1634  {HerherVs  Accounts, 
in  the  Malone-Boswell,  Shakespeare,  vol.  iii,  p.  227).  It  may  have  been  for 
this  performance  that  the  Prologue  was  written ;  the  phrase  '  gracious  and 
noble  friends'  (1.  8)  would  be  particularly  appropriate  to  an  audience  at 
Whitehall 

Dramatis  Persona 

Mondeiir,  the  familiar  title  of  the  next  younger  brother  of  the  King  of 
France.  This  was  Francois,  Duke  of  Alen9on,  and  later  of  Anjou,  the  youngest 
son  of  Catherine  de  Medici,  best  known  to  English  readers  as  the  suitor  of 
Queen  Elizabeth. 

The  Duke  of  GidBO,  Henri  le  Balafr6,  the  great  leader  of  the  Catholics  in  the 
Civil  Wars,  the  assassin  of  Coligny,  himself  murdered  by  order  of  Henri  III 
at  Blois  in  1588. 

Montinmr.  This  is  Chapman's  curt  English  form  for  Charles  de  Chambes, 
Comte  de  Monsoreau,  Grand  Huntsman  to  Monsieur ;  the  Monsorellus  of  De 
Thou's  Historiae  Sui  Temporis. 

Oomotot  Chapman  may  have  taken  this  name,  which  he  uses  throughout 
in  the  first  edition  of  the  play  (Qq.  1607,  x6o8]  instead  of  '  Friar  \  from  the 
historical  Father  Commolet,  an  acoomplioe  before  the  fact  in  the  murder  of 
Henry  Illjof  France.* 

TamjnL  Chapman's  name  for  Fran90ise  de  Maridort*  wife  of  the  Comte 
de  Monsoreau. 

^  The  tlloBloa  to  Field  in  I.  15  shoivt  that  it  was  oompoted  after  hia  departure  from  the 
King't  Men  aome  tf™**  before  1625. 
"See  Gztmetton,  Generai Inventory,  edition  of  x6xx«  p.  879. 

M7 


548 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


h  U  Aittr  Bmy  •  .  .  poor.    This  descriptioa  may  have  been  suggested  to 

Chapman  by  a  well-known  anecdote  of  Bussy's  appearance  at  Court  in  a 
simple  dress,  followed  b^  six  pages  in  cloth  of  gold.  See  Pieire  de  L'Estofle, 
Memoir$s-JoumauXf  edition  1 875-96,  vol.  i,  p.  239.  If  so.  Chapman  can  only 
have  had  a  confused  remembrance  of  it ;  his  presentati<xi  of  Buasy  as  a  ^oor 
gentleman  brought  to  Court  by  the  favour  of  Monsiexxr  is  quite  unhistoncaL 
I,  i«  2.  Honour  on  his  head:  upside  down.  The  same  phrase  occurs  in 
Chapman's  poem,  A  Coronet  for  his  Mistress  Philosophy ,  1595  : 

Th*  inverted  world  thai  goes  upon  her  head. 

U  7.     Unskilful  statuaries,    Cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy,  iv,  i,  179  ssq. 

ii^,    A  torch  ...  a  shadow.     The  first  of  these  phrases  has  a  parallel 

in  Chapman's  Hymn  to  Christ  upon  the  Cross,  1612  :    b^ore  the  wind  a 

fume  {Poems,  p.  147) ;  the  seoond  is  the  famous  phrase  of  Pindar,  (nrt«f 

ivap  lv»im909.    Pythia  viii,  96-7. 
I,  i,  tt.    To  put  a  gifdle  round  about  the  world,    Cf .  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream, 

II,  i,  175-6: 

ru  put  a  prdle  round  about  the  earth 
In  forty  mtnutes. 

This  well-known  phrase  was  probably  suggested  to  Shakespeare  by  a 
device  in  Whitney's  A  Choice  of  Emblems  (Leyden,  1586,  p.  203),  celebrating 
DraJce's  navigation  of  the  world  in  the  years  1577-80.  It  depicts  the  hand 
of  Providence  issuing  from  a  cloud  and  holding  a  girdle  which  encom- 
passes  a  globe.  The  other  end  of  the  girdle  is  attached  to  the  bow  of  a 
ship  which  rests  upon  the  globe,  and  the  superimposed  motto  is  Auxilio 
divino.  The  device  was  doubtless  well  known,  and  the  phrase  became  a 
common  one  in  Shakespeare's  time.  It  is  found  not  only  in  Shakespeare 
and  Chapman,  but  in  Massinger,  The  Maid  of  Honour,  I,  i,  and  in  Shirley, 
The  Humorous  Courtier,  I,  i.  Whitney's  device  is  reproduced  by  H.  Green, 
Shakespeare  and  the  Emblem  Writers,  p.  413. 

I,  i,  88.  The  simile  of  a  shipwreck  in  the  haven  seems  to  have  been  a  favourite 
with  Chapman.  It  occurs  in  Monsieur  D* Olive,  I,  i,  175,  in  The  Tear^ 
of  Peace  {Poems,  p.  133)1  ^^d  in  A  Justification  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda. 

I,  i,  10.  '  Impressions  to  serve  as  a  precedent  for  the  actions  of  inferior  persons  '. 

^  i*  60.    To  bear  state :  to  bear  himself  i)roudly. 

It  if  67-81.  This  8i>eech  affords  a  striking  example  of  one  of  Chapman's 
methods  of  composition  with  which  a  careful  student  of  his  work  becomes 
increasingly  familiar.  It  is  a  mere  mosaic  of  ideas,  examples,  figures 
even,  taken  directly  from  one  of  Chapman's  favourite  classic  authocs, 
Plutarch.  The  theme  of  this  speech  is  the  duty  of  public  life  and 
service,  and  the  source  is  Plutarch's  essay  on  this  theme  known  as  De 
Latenter  Vivendo,  Here  we  may  find  (I,  i).  the  '  gourmandist '  Gnatho, 
and  the  references  to  Themistodes,  CanuUus,  and  Epaminondas— the 
statement  as  to  the  dictatorships  and  triumphs  of  Camillus  comes 
from  the  first  lines  of  Plutarch's  life  of  that  hero.  The  simile  of  the 
bumish'd  steel,  U.  75-6,  is  adapted  from  a  quotation  from  Sophocles 
which  appears  in  IV,  5,  of  Plutarch's  essay,  and  11.  76-81  are  an  expansion 
of  a  sentiment  more  briefly  expressed  by  Plutarch  in  IV,  4. 

Numerous  instances  of  this  method  will  occur  hereafter,  and  in  each 
case  the  passage  in  Chapman  is  so  close  to  its  original  as  to  suggest  that 
he  composed  it  with  the  classic  author  open  before  him,  or — ^more  pro- 
bably— that,  like  his  friend  Jonson,  he  kept  a  commonplace  book  into 
wluc^  he  translated  favourite  bits  and  on  which  he  drew  at  will  when 

'^  composing  his  plays  and  poems. 

I,  i,  80-7.  Set  my  looks  .  .  .  brake,  A  brake  is  a  vice.  The  phrase  means 
to  keep  a  steady,  unmoved  face.    A  parallel  occurs  in  Byron's  Tragedy, 

-     IV,i.84: 

Su  in  how  grave  a  brake  he  sets  his  vixard. 

I,  i,  80-90.  There  seems  to  be  some  reference  in  these  lines  to  an  old  riddle 
such  as  schoolmistresses  might  ask  their  pupils,  but  I  have  not  succeeded 
in  identifying  it. 


NOTES  549 

I,  i,  lOlMI.  Bussy  insinuates  that  a  courtier  draws  evil  out  of  good.  When 
he  hears  a  sermon  preached  against  certain  vices,  all  that  he  learns  from 
it  is  to  practise  those  vices  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  their  characteristic 
qualities,  f  unfold  their  art. 

I,  i,  118-4.  I  have  not  been  able  to  trace  any  reference  to  such  a  representa- 
tion of  Fortune. 

I,  i,  124.     UnsweaHng  thrift :  cc^d-blooded  economy,  or  calculation. 

I,  i  189.     When  it  cries  clinh  :  when  the  hour  strikes ;  cf.  U,  134-5* 

It  U  178.  There  is  a  play  on  the  word  commanded.  Maff6  uses  it  in  the 
sense  of  '  to  hold  conmiand  \  as  of  a  body  of  troops  ;  Bussy  in  the  sense 
of  '  to  order ',  as,  for  example,  a  dinner. 

I,  i,  187.  I  am  a  poet.  Joubert,  Bussy  D'Amboise,  pp.  305-9,  prints  a 
poem  of  Bussy's. 

I,  i,  188.  Fair  great  noses.  This  is  no  chance  allusion.  Monsieur's  nose 
was  a  mark  for  the  satirists  of  the  time.  Pierre  de  L'Estoile  {Journal 
de  Henri  IT  I,  p.  250,  edition  Petitot)  cites  a  quatrain  composed  at  the 
time  of  Monsieur*s  attempt  on  Antwerp,  1583 : 

Flamands  ne  soyes  Stonnes 
Si  a  Frangois  voyez  deux  tUx : 
Car  par  droits  raison,  ei  usage, 
Faut  deux  rUs  d  double  visage. 

To  this  quatrain  Petitot  adds  a  note  :  '  La  petite  v^ole  avoit  extr&nent 
maltraite  le  visage  de  ce  prince,  qui  paroissait  avoir  deux  nez.'  Elsewhere 
L'Estoile  remarks  that  Monsieur  was  afiOlcted  with  a  double  nose,  '  the 
sign  of  a  traitor ',  in  this  case  a  most  appropriate  sign. 

It  it  19476.  Your  chain  and  velvet  jacket :  the  S3anbols  of  his  office  as  steward; 
cf .  Sir  Toby's  advice  to  MalvoUo :  Go  rub  your  chain  with  crumbs,  Twelfth 
Night,  II,  iii,  128-9.  The  velvet  jacket  seems  also  to  have  been  part  of 
the  costume  o!  the  steward,  or  gentleman  usher ;  cf.  A  Mad  World,  My 
Masters,  III,  iii,  60-62  (Middleton,  Bullen's  edition). 

I,  i,  807.  His  wooden  dagger.  This  stock  property  of  the  Vice  in  the  old 
Moralities  was  sometimes  carried  by  the  Elizabethan  fool  or  jester.  Maff6 
who  mistakes  Bussy  for  a  new  jester  engaged  by  Monsieur,  consequently 
speaks  of  him  as  possessing  this  tool  of  his  Ixade. 

I,  ii.  Pyra.  This  character  appears  here  and  in  two  other  scenes,  II,  ii, 
and  IV,  i,  but  has  not  a  single  speech  assigned  her.  This  is  one  of  several 
instances  of  Chapman's  fondness  for  crowding  the  stage  with  insignificant 
figures. 

I,  ii,  8.  That  English  virgin :  *  apparently  Annable,  who  is  the  Duchess  of 
Guise's  lady  in  waiting  (cf.  Ill,  u,  234-40) '. — Boas. 

^  ii,  44.  Chapman  plays  m  this  line  on  the  two  meanings,  '  travail '  and 
•  journey  *, 

I,  ii,  82.  The  allusion  to  leap-year  in  this  line  serves  to  fix  the  date  of 
the  play.  It  cannot  refer  to  the  actual  year  of  Bussy's  presentation  at 
Court,  1569,  which  was  not  a  leap-year  and  which,  in  all  probability, 
was  quite  unknown  to  Chapman.  The  passage  is  a  '  gag ',  not  of  the 
cleanest,  and  is  one  of  the  anachronisms  with  which  all  students  of  Eliza- 
bethan dtama  are  familiar.  Since  the  allusion  to  a  knight  of  the  new 
edition  in  11. 140-1  is  evidently  to  James  I's  wholesale  creation  of  knights 
immediately  after  his  accession  in  1603,  the  play  must  have  been  written 
after  that  date.  And  since  it  vyas  printed  in  1607  the  only  leap  year 
that  suits  the  dates  is  1604.  See  further  the  article  already  cited  in  Modem 
Language  Review,  January,  1908. 

^  ii,  97.  Turn  the  ladder :  probably  '  turn  off  the  ladder ',  '  be  hanged  to 
you.' 

I,  i£  101.  Gfoom-porfers.  The  Groom-porter  was  an  officer  of  the  English 
Royal  Household,  whose  chief  function  was  to  regulate  all  matters  con- 
nected with  gaming  within  the  Court,  to  decide  disputes  at  play,  etc. 
The  office  is  mentioned  as  early  as  1502  in  the  Privy  Purse  Expenses  of 
Elizabeth  of  York,  and  was  not  abolished  till  the  time  of  George  III. 


550  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

It  hf  112.  The  Guisard.  This  word  has  troubled  the  editors.  Dilke  suggests 
that  it  may  be  '  a  jingling  allusion  to  goose  herd  or  gozzard ' ;  Boas  thinks 
it  may  be  a  variant  ot  *  gizsard ' '  in  which  case  it  would  mean  the  Duke's 
throat  *.  It  seems  to  me  plain  that  the  word  means  nothing  more  or  less 
than  a  partisan  of  Guise,  and  is  here  applied  contemptuously  to  the  great 
Duke  hunself.     Bussy  addresses  him  in  the  same  way  in  III,  ii,  80. 

I,  il,  118-9.  Aedus  Navius :  or  Attus  Navius,  the  legendary  Roman  augur 
who  at  the  command  of  Tarquin  cut  through  a  whetstone  with  a  razor. 
See  Livy,  i,  36. 

I»  ii,  184.  Dramatic  literature  of  the  first  decade  of  the  seventeenth  century 
is  full  of  satirical  allusions  to  the  '  knights  of  the  new  edition ',  i.e.  the 
lOiights  so  lavi^y  created  by  James  I  in  the  early  years  of  his  reign. 
A  notable  instance  of  this  occurs  in  Eastward  Ho,  IV,  1,  213-4*  where  the 
rascally  Sir  Petronel  Flash  is  spoken  of  as  one  of  the  King's  '  thirty- 
pound  knights '. 

It  Ii*  185.  The  hmghfs  ward  was  a  part  of  the  Counter,  a  London  prison 
where  debtors  were  confined ;  cf .  Eastward  Ho,  V,  2,  54.  There  is  here 
a  contemptuous  allusion  to  Bussy's  former  poverty. 

I,  il,  146.  OiU  0*  th*  presence :  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Court,  within  which 
specially  severe  penalties  were  inflicted  for  brawline.  Readers  of  Soott 
will  remember  the  punishment  that  threatened  Nigel  Olifaunt  for  striking 
Lord  Dalgamo  within  the  limits  of  St.  James's  Park. 

I,  II,  m.  In  Blisabethan  and  Jacobean  times  the  floors  even  of  palaces 
were  strewn  with  rushes.  There  are  countless  allusions  to  this  practice 
in  Blisabethan  drama.    Perhaps  the  best  known  is  Shakespeare's 

Let  wantons  light  of  heart 
Tickle  the  senseless  rushes  with  their  heels. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  I,  iv,  35-^. 

Compare  also  the  comic  scene  in  The  Gentleman  Usher,  II,  i,  where  Bassiolo 
teaches  Vincentio  how  to  strew  the  floor. 

I,  il,  l(Nm.  Of  the  place  the  divers  frames :  I  take  frames  to  denote  the 
conformation  of  the  ocean  bed,  the  place,  which  contributes  to  making 
the  sea  bristled  with  surges, 

I,  II,  178.  New  denizened:  newly  naturalized.  The  allusion  is,  of  course, 
to  tile  Scotch  lords  and  genUemen  who  flocked  to  London  upon  the  acces- 
sion of  James  I,  and  were  not  unnaturally  regarded  by  the  English  as 
intruders.  The  question  of  the  union  of  the  kingdoms  and,  in  particular, 
of  the  naturalization  of  the  Scotch  in  England  excited  much  attention 
in  the|first  years  of  J  ames's  reign,  and  was  stubbornly  opposed  by  the  popular 
.    partv  in  Parliament. 

I,  Ii,  180-8.  A  reference  to  Aesop's  fable  of  the  ass  in  the  lion's  skin ;  no, 
333i  Teubner  edition. 

It  ii,  187.    Carry  tt  off  :  get  the  better  of  the  quarreL 

I,  IL  808-10.  Descants  .  .  .  ground,  Bussy  plays  on  the  technical  and 
the  ordinary  senses  of  these  words.  A  '  descant '  in  music  was  the  '  melo- 
dious accompaniment  to  a  simple  theme  ',  i.e.,  '  ihe  ground ' ;  but  it  also 
means  a  conmient,  or  observation  on  some  topic.  Cf.  Richard  III,  III, 
vii,  49  :  On  that  ground  TU  make  a  holy  decani.  Ground,  of  course, 
means  '  basis '  or  '  subject '  as  well  as  '  a  musical  theme '. 

^  II,  288.  Musk  cats :  the  perfumed  courtiers  with  whom  Bussy  has  been 
quarrelling.  Cf.  As  You  Like  It,  III,  ii,  65-6,  where  Corin  speaks  of 
the  courtier's  hands  perfumed  with  civet. 

It  lit  888.    This  priviledge :  the  Court  limits.    See  note  on  I,  ii,  146  above. 

0^  I,  5-10.  With  this  coinparison  of  Envy  to  the  kite  feeding  on  carrion 
compare  a  passage  in  Chabot,  IV,  i,  14-6,  and  the  note  thereon.  In 
The  Tears  of  Peace  {Poems,  p.  117)  Chapman  compares  idle  men  to  kites 
who  stoop  at  scraps  and  garbage. 

IL  If  18-8.  Bruits  it.  ,  .  ,  Being  sound  and  healthful  Boas  paraphrases 
this  passage ;  '  proclaims  it  through  the  world  to  be  sound  and  whol^me ' . 
But  I  think  it  is  better  to  take  the  participial  clause  as  modifying  ihs. 


NOTES  551 

i.e.,  Envy,  in  1.  zx,  who  leasts  soundly  and  healthfully  on  the  evil  that  she 
finds  in  men,  but  sickens  {surfeits,  1.  15)  at  the  taste  ox  good. 

n*  i,  Ifr-?.  There  is  an  almost  verbal  parallel  to  these  lines  in  Chapman's 
Invective  aeainst  Jonsani  Poems,  -o,  433). 

n*  i,  85  ssq.  The  account  of  the  duel  between  Bussy  and  his  two  friends  on 
the  one  side  and  the  three  courtiers  on  the  other  was  probably  suggested 
to  Chapman  by  some  report  of  the  famous  duel  fought  by  three  of  Henry 
II  Fs  minions,  Quelus,  Maugiron,  and  Livarot,  with  three  partisans  of 
the  Duke  of  Guise,  D'Entragues,  Rib^ac,  and  Schomberg,  on  April  27, 
1578.  Maugiron  and  Schomberg  were  slain  on  the  spot ;  Rib6rac  was 
mortally  wounded  and  died  the  next  day ;  Quelus,  who  had  received 
nineteen  wounds,  lingered  for  a  month  and  then  died ;  and  Livarot  was 
confined  to  his  bed  for  six  weeks.  D'Entragues  alone  survived  unhurt 
(as  Bussy  does  here),  escaping  with  a  mere  scratch.  Dumas,  whose 
romance,  La  Dame  de  Monsoreau,  touches  Chapman's  play  at  nxany 
points,  also  gives  in  the  last  chapter  of  that  work  a  narrative  founded 
upon  this  famous  duel.  According  to  Dumas  Bussy  was  to  have  taken  part 
in  the  duel,  but  was  assassinated  on  the  evening  before  by  Monsoreau.  See 
Brantome  {Sur  les  Duels,  p.  3x2,  edition  of  Soci6t6  de  L'Histoire  de  France) 
and  Pierre  de  L'Estoile  {Journal  de  Henri  ///,  p.  167,  edition  Petitot). 

IL  if  51*  Pyrrho :  or  rather  Pyrrhon,  a  Greek  philosopher  of  the  time  of 
Alexander  the  Great.  He  was  one  of  the  early  sceptics  and  taught  that 
since  we  can  know  nothing  of  the  realities  of  things  we  should  be  indifferent 
to  all  things.  See  Cicero.  Fin.  ii,  13,  43.  An  anecdote  in  Montaigne  gives 
a  characteristic  view  of  his  attitude  toward  death. 

'  Pirro,  the  Philosopher,  finding  himselfe  upon  a  very  tempestuous 
day  in  a  boat,  shewed  them  whom  he  perceived  to  be  most  affrighted 
through  feare,  and  encouraged  them  by  the  example  of  an  hog  that  was 
amongst  them,  and  seemed  to  take  no  care  at  all  for  the  storme.' 

Montaigne  I,  40  (Florio's  translation*!. 

0^  U  54-8.  The  reference  is  to  the  Iliad,  not,  as  Mr.  Boas  says»  to  the  seventh 
book,  but  to  the  third,  11.  76-83. 

'  His  amendsful  words  did  Hector  hiehfy  please. 
Who  rush'd  between  the  fighting  hosts  and  made  ^  Trojans  cease 
By  holding  up  in  midst  his  lanu. 

Chapman's  Iliad, 

0^  i,  60.  Ripped  up  the  quarrel :  discussed  the  cause  of  the  quarrel.  Or> 
continuing  the  simile  of  Hector  in  U.  54-8,  it  may  mean,  separated  the 
combatants. 

0^  i,  78-80.  Lamb,  Specimens  of  the  English  Dramatic  Poets,  says :  '  One 
can  hardly  believe  but  that  these  lines  were  written  after  Milton  had 
described  his  warring  angels.^  Cf.  Paradise  Lost,  VI,  11.  330-1  and  IL 
344-9.  Milton  and  Chapman,  of  course,  go  back  to  a  common  origin, 
the  mediaeval  conception  of  spiritual  bodies. 

I^  i,  84-90.  The  confusion  of  personal  pronouns  makes  this  passage  some- 
what difficult ;  A«  in  1.  84  is  Bussy  ;  him  and  himself  in  1.  85  refer  to  Barri- 
r  sor;  A«  in  U.  86  and  87  refers  agam  to  Bussy  ;  his,  1.  90,  to  Barrisor. 

n,  !•  92.  Redoubled  in  his  danger:  'thrusting  himself  a  second  time  into 
danger '. — Boas.    Cf .  the  use  of  redoubled  in  1.  190  below. 

0^  i,  04.  Arden :  the  forest  of  romance  par  excellence  in  Elizabethan  litera- 
ture. It  is  mentioned  by  Spenser,  Astrophel,  and  Lodge,  Rosalynde,  as 
well  as  by  Shakespeare  and  Chapman. 

n,  1,  94-101.  With  the  simile  in  these  lines  compare  the  well  known  passage 
in  the  JBneid,  ti,  626-63 : 

Ac  veluH  summis  antiauam  in  montibus  omum 
Cum  ferro  accisam  creorisque  bipennibus  instant 
Eruere  agricolae  certatim,  ilia  usque  minatur 
Et  tretnefacta  comam  concusso  vertice  nutat, 
Volneribus  donee  pauUOim  evicta  sufremmm 
Congemuit  Praxitque  fugis  avolsa  rmnam. 


552  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

'  Even  as  when  on  the  height  of  the  mountains,  labourers  press  on 
with  rival  zeal  to  cut  down  from  the  roots  an  ancient  ash,  hewn  around 
with  the  steel  and  with  repeated  blows  of  the  hatchet ;  it  ever  threatens 
to  fall,  and  <)uivering  npds  the  foliage  on  its  tossing  top,  until  by  degrees 

guite  vanquished  by  blows,  it  heaves  aloud  its  last  groan,  and  torn  away 
:om  the  crag,  brings  down  a  ruinous  mass.' 

Translation  of  Lonsdale  and  Lee. 
We  have  here  an  instance  where  Chapman  is  not  so  much  paraphrasing 
a  passage  from  a  classical  author  as  writing  under  the  inspiration  of  a 
reminiscence.    One  or  two  of  his  phrases  In  these  lines  seem  directly 
suggested  by  Virgil. 
n,  i,  104.    Navarre ;  Henry  of  Navarre,  at  the  height  of  his  fame  as  a  vic- 
torious king  when  Chapman  composed  this  play.    He  had,  however, 
done  little  to  justify  Chapman's  praise  as  the  sole  soldier  of  the  world, 
before  the  death  of  the  historical  Bussy  in  1579. 
0^  i,  108.    Thy  felt  report  calls  on :  thy  report  beard  with  interest  provokes 

a  diesire  to  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  fray. 
IL  U  119-80.  The  unicorn's  horn,  the  treasure  of  his  brow,  was  long  sup- 
posed to  be  a  most  valuable  remedy.  Aelian  {De  Nai.  Animal.^  Ill,  41) 
savs  that  bowls  of  this  substance  nullified  the  force  of  any  poison  that 
m(ght  be  cast  therein.  David  de  Pomis  (Pomerarius),  the  Jewish  phy- 
sician, declares  that  it  is  good  against  deadly  poisons  and  pestilent  fevers, 
and  e^ves  an  interesting  experiment  whereby  the  true  horn  may  be  dis- 
tinguished from  a  counterfeit.  Sir  Thomas  Browne  {Vulgar  Errors 
Book  III,  ch.  23)  records  that  Julius  III  gave  many  thousand  crowns 
for  a  xinicom's  horn,  and  he  himself  believed  it  to  be  efficacious  against 
*  venoms  proper '. 

The  usual  method  of  capturing  the  unicorn  was  by  inducing  him  to 
charge  the  hunter  who  then  slipped  behind  a  tree.  The  furious  animal 
would  charge  the  tree  and  bury  his  horn  in  it  beyond  all  possibility  of 
extrication,  and  thus  became  an  easy  prey.  That  this  metnod  was  not 
without  dajiger  is  shown  by  the  anecdote  in  the  text.  A  safer  method 
in  whidi  a  virgin  was  employed  is  related  by  Samuel  Bochart  in  a  delight- 
ful chapter  on  the  Unicom  in  HieroMoicon  <book  III,  chap.  36,  Quid  veUres 
et  recenHores  scripserifU  de  animalibus  unicormbus).  The  well-known 
reference  in  Julius  Caesar,  II,  i,  203-4,  alludes  to  the  first  method.  See 
also  The  Faerie  Queetie,  II,  v,  10,  where  the  lion  is  said  to  catch  the '  prowd 
rebellious  unicorn  '  by  means  of  a  tree. 

Sylvester  {Little  Bartas,  11.  505-6),  also  alludes  to  the  medidnal  qualities 
of  the  unicorn's  horn — 

The  fell  trumocerote 
Bears  in  his  brow  a  soveraine  antidote. 

Dt  i.  180.  Hunt  honour  at  the  view :  press  hard  after  honour,  like  hounds 
that  have  caught  sight  of  the  chase.  Chapman  uses  the  phrase  'hunt 
at  view '  again  in  The  Gentleman  Usher,  IV,  iv,  53. 

0^  U  141-8.  A  difficult  passage.  Nature,  I  take  it,  means  the  natural  tie 
of  blood,  as  between  brothers ;  the  clause,  when  the  trial  .  .  .  springing, 
may  be  rendered  '  when  a  contest  occurred  between  a  king  and  a  subject, 
both  children  of  one  parent ' ;  virtue  means  the  power,  the  effective  Quality, 
of  the  tie  of  blood,  and  greatness  its  closeness.  Monsieur  pleads  that 
Henry  wiU  let  the  virtue  of  this  tie  'prevail  over  his  Natural  scruples 
and  grant  Buss^,  for  Monsieur's  sake,  that  which  he  could  not  grant 
were  he  not  a  kmg,  i.e.,  a  free  pardon. 

0^  i,  190.    On  my  hnees  redoubed :  kneeling  a  second  time. 

n,  i,  808-4.  Chapman  is  never  weary  of  repeating  that  a  virtuous  man  is 
above  the  law.  A  striking  expression  of  this  idea  occurs  in  The  GentUtnan 
Usher,  V,  iv,  56-60: 

.  .  And  wholes  a  prince  ?    Had  ail  been  virtuous  men. 

There  never  had  been  prinu  upon  the  earth, 
And  so  no  subject ;  all  men  had  been  princes ; 


NOTES  553 

A  virhums  man  is  subject  to  no  prince. 
But  to  his  soul  and  honour. 

Compare  also  Byron^s  Conspiracy,  III,  iii,  140-5  and  Caesar  and  Pompey, 
V.  ii,  8-10. 
lit  U  818*    J^  hand  for  shew  I  held:   'to  hold,  or  bear,  in  hand'  is  to 
deceive  with  false  hopes.    Bussy  means  that  his  courtship  of  the  Duchess 
of  Guise  was  a  mere  mask  for  his  passion  for  Tamyra. 
lit  ii,  46.    ^s  good  cheap  as  it :  literally,  '  at  as  good  a  bargain ',  hence  as 

well  as  it,  i.e.  the  necklace  of  pearls  which  Monsieur  offers  her. 
n,  ii*  68.     You  are  at  your  books.    It  seems  to  have  been  customary  for  a 
worldly-wise  waiting  woman  to  pretend  to  busy  herself  with  a  book  when  a 
lover  was  courting  her  mistress.  In  AU  Fools,  II,  i,  282-5,  Chapman  speaks  of 

A  weU'taught  waiting  woman 
Turning  her  eyes  upon  some  work  or  picture. 
Read  in  a  hook,  or  take  a  feigned  nap. 
While  her  hind  lady  takes  one  to  her  lap. 

A  similar  allusion,  with  reference  to  Petrarch  as  a  useful  book  on  such 
occasions,  appears  in  Monsieur  D^Olive,  V,  i,  190-200. 

lit  iif  10^-4.  The  book  which  Pero  had  been  reading  was  probably  a  book 
of  devotions.  Tamyra  takes  it  from  her  with  the  remark  that  she  fTamyra) 
would  use  it  to  better  purpose  than  the  maid. 

lit  ii»  116.  The  centre :  '  the  unmoved  central  point  of  the  earth  according 
to  the  Ptolemaic  S3rstem '. — ^Boas. 

n,  lit  1S8.  Cast  myself  off,  as  I  ne*er  had  been,  Mr.  Boas  interprets, '  undress, 
as  if  I  had  never  been  watching  here '.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  context 
demands  something  in  a  higher  key  than  this.  Dr.  Bradley  suggests 
*  renounce  my  former  self '.  If  this  be  taken  to  mean  that  she  renounces 
her  intention  of  meeting  Bussy,  it  may  perhaps  be  correct,  for  her  exit 
here,  taken  in  connexion  with  her  words  on  her  next  entrance  (IL  192-7), 
seems  to  indicate  a  temporary  intention  on  her  part  of  renouncing  the 
rendezvous  with  her  lover. 

lit  ttf  Itt*  The  first  orb  move.  The  construction  is  rather  awkward,  but 
I  think  move  is  dependent  on  must,  1.  147.  We  have  here  '  an  allusion 
to  the  Primum  Mobile,  which,  in  the  Ptolemaic  system,  was  the  tenth 
sphere  •  .  .  which  revolved  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  carried  round  in 
its  course  all  the  inner  spheres  \ — Boas.  So  Bussy  is  to  move  first  and 
set  Tamyra's  latent  passion  for  him  in  action. 

n^  if  £L  In  his  truestvalour :  *  if  his  valour  be  rightly  estimated  '• — ^Boas. 
Perhaps  we  might  interpret  the  phrase,  '  at  his  best ',  '  at  his  highest  point 
of  valour  *,  valour  m  this  line  and  value,  1.  40,  seem  to  be  used 
almost  interchangeably. 

n^  it  88-6.  These  lines  recall  the  well-known  scene  where  Hamlet  points 
out  to  Polonius  a  cloud  thafs  almost  in  shape  of  a  camel,  yet  is  bached 
like  a  weasel,  and  very  like  a  whale,  A  passage  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
of  later  date  than  Bussy  seems  to  show  that  Shakespeare  in  turn  may 
not  have  disdained  to  take  a  hint  from  Chapman : 

Sometimes  we  see  a  cloud  thafs  dragonish ; 
A  vapour  sontetimes  like  a  bear  or  lion, 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  IV,  xiv,  2-3. 

There  is  another  parallel  in  Monsieur  D*Olive,  II,  ii,  92-4. 
n^  it  86.   When  they  hold  no  proportion :  when  there  is  not  the  least  resemblance. 
nit  U  87-80.    Compare 

We'll  have  thee,  as  our  rarer  monsters  are. 
Painted  upon  a  pole, 

Macbeth,  V,  viii,  25-6. 

The  reference  in  both  cases  is,  of  course,  to  the  painted  picture  hung 
outside  a  tent  or  booth  where  a  'monster '  was  on  exhibition. 

nit  it  88.  Our  thru  powers :  *  the  vegetative,  sensitive,  and  reasoning  facul- 
ties \ — ^Boas. 


554  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

n^  I,  0O-7L    Mr.  Boas  glTM  the  following  interpfttUtion  of  this  passage, 

derived  from  Dr.  J.  A.  H.  Murray  :  That  (Nature)  briogs  our  powers  into 

acoordanoe  with  its  own  will,  or  working,  just  as  the  stone  (laid  by  the 

builder)  should  be  apposed,  or  brought  into  accord  with  the  une,  not  the 

line  (widch  is  straight  and  not  to  be  shifted)  made  to  lie  along  the  stone '. 
n^  If  8L    '  Must  defer  his  shining  until  such  time  as  the  vapours  he  has 

raised  up  from  the  earth  have  passed  away.' 
n^  I,  119.    We  have  in  this  line  the  first  intimation  of  Monsieur's  envy  of 

Bussy's  sudden  rise  to  favour,  which  contributes  so  largely  to  bringing 

about  the  catastrophe. 
in,  ii,  8-4.    Kiies  that  check  at  sparrows :  worthless  or  badly-trained  falcons 

that  forsake  their  proper  game  to  follow  spaxrows.    Cf.  Twelfth  Night, 

III,  i,  71-3. 
n^  ii»  4-6.    An  allusion  to  Jove's  eagle.    Cf.  Chapman's  note  on  Eugenia 

{Poems f  p.  336). 
n^  il,  18.    Bands  of  hay  were  sometimes  rolled  round  the  legs  to  protect 

the  hose  of  a  rider.    Boas  quotes  Jonson's  Every  man  in  his  Humour, 

I,  iii.    Stephen :  But  I  have  no  boots.  .  .  .    Bralnworm :  Why,  a  fine  wisp 

of  hay  rolled  hard.  Master  Stephen. 
There  is  a  modem  allusion  to  this  custom  of  protecting  the  legs  with 

wisps  of  hay  in  Hardy's  Woodlanders,  chapter  zz. 
n^  Ut  18.    The  poison  of  a  red'hair'd  man :  red  hair,  or  Judas-coloured  hair, 

was  greatly  disliked  at  this  time.    It  was  thought  to  denote  deceitfuhiess. 

A  passaee  in  Middleton's  The  Witch,  V,  ii,  55,  shows  that  the  fat  of  a 

dead  red-haired  person  was  coosidercNd  a  poison,  or  at  least  an  ingredient 

of  ajpoison. 
ID,  il,  88.    '  That  affects  the  manner  of  a  kin^  although  bom  a  beggar.' 
m,  II,  98.    By  his  suffering  king :   by  his  kmg's  sufferance,  or  permission. 
n^  il,  86.    His  own  counsa  keeping :  keeping  nis  own  private  lawyer^  like 

Sir  Giles  Overreach  in  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  to  assist  him  m  his 

eztortions  and  trespasses  on  the  rights  ol  others. 
ID,  il,  44.    His  superfluous  cures :  his  too  numerous  spiritual  charges.    Bossy 

Is  thinking  of  a  i>luralist  clergyman. 
m,  II,  48.    Hebrew  is  read  backwards.    For  a  curious  parallel  to  these  lines, 

see  Teufelsdrdckh's  epitaph  on  Count  Zahdarm,  Sartor  Resartus,  II,  ^: 

'  ^in^udes  mille  perdtces  plumbo  confecit :  varii  cibi  centum  pondia  milHes 

.  .  .  f n  stercus  palam  convertit '. 
m,  lit  80,    That  popular  purple :  an  allusion  to  Guise's  popularity  with  the 

Parisians,  who  showed  him  more  honour  than  they  ^d  the  King. 
n^  ii,  78.    Georges  D'Amboise,  Cardinal  and  Archbishop  of  Rouen,  died  in 

Z510,  thirty  nine  years  before  Bussy  was  bom.    As  a  matter  of  fact  he 

was  Bussy's  great-uncle,  through  whose  gift  the  estate  of  Bussy  came 

into  the  possession  of  the  Clermont  family. 
m,  II,  88-7*    Be  a  duke,  and  lead  me :  b.  pun  on  the  original  meaning  of  Dux. 
m,  il,  106.    The  world  of  Saturn:   the  Satumian  or  Golden  Ag^,  when 

men  were  equal,  and  fraud  and  violence  were  unknown. 
ID,  ii,  10&-10.    The  Hermean  rod  :  the  caduceus.    Hjginus  {PoeHeon  Astro- 

nomicon,  II,  vii)  tells  the  legend  of  Mercury's  havmg  parted  two  fighting 

serpents  with  his  rod,  whereupon  he  called  his  rod  a  peacemaker.    The 

caduceus  was  often  represented  with  two  serpents  wreathed  about  it, 

and  was  borne  by  heralds  as  a  sjmibol  of  their  office. 
m,  II,  188.    Has  she  met  you  ? :    Is  she  even  with  you  ? 
m^  II,  146-7.     This  giarU.    The  reference  is  to  Typhon,  the  hundred-headed 

monster  who  challenged  Jove.    According  to  one  account  he  was  the 

child  of  Tartarus  and  Earth  ;  in  another  he  was  the  child  of  Juno  alone. 

iove  overcame  him  by  means  of  the  thunderbolt  and  buried  him  under 
[ount  Aetna  (see  Hyginus,  Fabulae,  cUi). 
m^  II,  148.    Jov^s  ordinance :    the  thimderbolt,  elsewhere  styled  '  Jove's 

artillery ',  see  IV,  ii,  37. 
m,  II,  I60-8.    C/. '  Who  that  worst  may  shall  hold  the  candle',  Heywood't 
Proverbs,  edited  by  Shaxman,  X874,  P*  97*      Camden  {Rmnams,  p.  324) 


NOTES  555 

giTct  this  as:    'He  that  worst  may  must  bold  the  candle.'    CajuUe- 
bearers  looked  on  at  gaming,  dancing,  etc.  (cf.  Romeo  and  Juliet,  I,  iv, 

?8),  hence  the  proverb,  '  A  good  candle-bolder  proves  a  good  gamester ' 
Ray,  edited  by  Bohn,  p.  3),  and  the  modem,  '  a  looker-on  sees  most  of 

the  game '.    It  seems  to  be  in  this  last  sense  that  Chapman  uses  the  phrase. 

Women,  who  hold  the  candles  because  ol  their  inferiority  to  men,  none 

the  less  know  well  how  the  game  is  going. 
m.  ii,  178.     Your  chaste  lady :  Tamyra. 
m,  ii,  179.    Take  say :  or  '  take  the  say ',  a  hunting  phrase  meaning  to  make 

a  cut  in  the  belly  of  a  dead  deer  to  see  how  fat  it  was ;  hence,  to  make 

trial  of,  to  assay. 
m,  ii»  180.    An  unde :  Guise  is  the  uncle  of  Chark)tte'a  mistress,  Beaupr6. 
TU,  ii«  819.    This  conveyance:    this  contrivance  to  secure  a  meeting  with 

Buasy. 
m,  ii,  886.    Dry  palm  :  a  sign  of  a  cold  temperament,  as  a  moist  palm  was 

of  an  amorous  or  liberal  deposition.    Cf.  Chabot,  II,  iii,  172-3,  andOihello, 

III,  iv,  36-9. 
n^  ii,  887.    Lwer :  the  seat,  according  to  Elizabethan  physiology,  of  various 

emotions.    Here^  of  course,  the  reference  is  to  love. 
m,  ii,  867.    With  this  riddle  compare  that  of  Cupid  in  Byron's  Trag/edy,  II,  i, 

88-95. 
m,  ii,  878.    CoMMs  most  near  you :  touches  you,  or  afflicts  you  most. 
m,  ii,  889.    Creaming  in  their  faces  :  Cf .  The  Merchant  of  Venice^  I,  i,  88-9  : 

There  are  a  sort  of  men  whose  visages 
Do  cream  and  mantle  like  a  standing  pool. 

m;  ii,  814.  Train  D'Ambois  to  his  wreak :  lure  Hussy  within  reach  of  his, 
Montsurry's,  revenge. 

n^  U,  881.  Monsieur's  call,  the  entrance  of  Mafi^  in  answer  to  it,  and  Mon- 
sieur's order  to  close  the  doors,  1.  323,  all  show  that  this  scene,  which  had 
begun  at  Court,  has  been  imperceptibly  shifted  to  Monsieur's  private 
rooms.  An  interesting  article  by  R.  Koppell,  Englische  Studien,  vol. 
zxziv,  p.  p  ssq.f  points  out  that  similar  changes  of  place  within  the  limits 
of  a  scene  are  not  infrequent  in  Elizabethan  drama.  I  know  of  few  so 
striking  as  this  present  case. 

m,  ii,  869.  Angel  of  my  life:  guardian  angel,  or  rather  tutelary  genius. 
Cf.  Caesar  and  Pompey,  II,  iii,  38  and  IV,  iii,  3. 

m^  ii,  867.  Without  a  circle :  without  describing  the  magic  circle  used  in 
the  evocation  of  spirits.  Unless  this  were  done  and  the  performer  remained 
within  the  circle,  he  was  exposed  to  the  fury  of  the  spirits.  Cf.  a  parallel 
passage  in  The  Tears  of  Peace  {PoemSf  p.  120). 

m,  ii,  V7Z.  The  man  of  blood.  Grimeston  {General  Inventory,  p.  8z8,  edition 
of  1 61 1)  calls  Bussy,  '  a  bloody,  wicked,  and  a  furious  man'.  As  this 
line  does  not  occur  in  the  first  edition  of  Bussy,  the  phrase  may  have 
been  suggested  to  Chapman  by  his  reading  of  Grimeston  for  the  Byron 
plays. 

m,  ii,  978.    Titan  :  the  Sun  god. 

m,  ii,  888.    SoU  discourses  :  solitary  communings. 

in,  ii,  897-8.  Bussy  is  said  to  play  the  cuckoo  since  he  harps  for  ever  on 
one  note,  the  killing  of  the  King.  The  cuckoo,  however,  sings  in  the 
spring,  Bussy  in  his  fall  of  friendship ;  hence  the  word,  unseasonable. 

m,  ii,  411-18.  '  Do  not  think  themselves  wise,  unless  they  hear  their  praises 
sung  by  others,  who,  in  reality,  are  but  making  fools  of  them.' 

m,  ii,  488-8.  Ajaz  went  mad  with  rage  when  the  arms  of  Achilles  were 
voted  to  Ulysws  rather  than  to  himself,  and  in  his  madness  attacked  and 
slaughtered  a  flock  of  sheep,  taking  it  for  the  Grecian  army. 

m,  ii,  487.    To  make  them  of  a  piece :  to  harmonize,  and  so  make  them  useful. 

m,  ii,  446.    Hath  reference :  is  carried. 

n^  ii,  449.  *  Probably  an  allusion  to  the  adoration  of  Alexander  the  Great 
as  the  son  of  Jupiter  Hammon*. — Boas. 

UL  fi$  489.    A  nmiheHng  piece:   cf.  Hamlet,  IV,  y,  95.    Chapman  uses 


556  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

the  expression  '  make  a  lane  *,  elsewhere  to  describe  the  effects  of  a  cannnn 
shot.    See  Poems^  p.  154,  and  Sit  Giles  Goasecap,  I,  iii,  16-7. 

m,  iiy  tt3.  The  purest  crystal  i  used  here  for  the  diamond,  the  conventional 
type  of  hardness. 

m,  u.  484.    To  that  waU :  *  at  the  distance  of  that  wall.'—Boas. 

10^  ii«  486.    This  line  re-appears  with  sUght  change  in  The  Reoenge  of  Bussy, 

I»  ii,  33. 

m,  ii,  487.  Lemean  fen :  the  swamp  near  Argos,  where  dwelt  the  Hydra 
slain  by  Hercules. 

m,  iit  481.  Clotho :  the  first  of  the  three  Fates.  She  is  said  to  spin  the 
tlu'ead  of  man's  life  from  her  breathing  rock^  ie.,  her  distaff. 

m,  ii«  ^Mi.  Lachesis :  the  second  of  the  Fates,  who  draws  out  the  thread 
she  receives  from  Clotho. 

in.  ii,  488-4.  The  passage  is  somewhat  obscure,  but  I  think  it  may  be  under- 
stood as  follows  :  As  Lachesis  draws  out  the  thread  of  your  life,  she  dips 
her  ffingers  in  a  bowl,  crown*df  i.e.  brimming  (cf.  All  Fools,  IV,  ii,  34) 
with  the  foul  liquor  wrung  out  of  tortured  virtue  (i.e.  with  all  the  vice 
of  mankind)  with  which  liquor  the  thread  of  your  life  is,  therefore,  stained. 

IV,  i,  88.  Which:  i.e.  times.  Grief  now  proves,  i.e.  claims,  these  times 
as  his  own. 

IV,  i,  68.    In  high  forms :  *  on  stools  of  disgrace.' — Boas. 

IV,  I,  68.  Monsieur  here  uses  sneeringly  the  epithet  of  eagle  which  the 
King  had  bestowed  on  Bussy.    See  III,  ii,  4. 

IV,  i,  67.  See  note  on  III,  ii,  237.  The  double  reference  to  the  eagle's 
beah,  1.  55,  and  the  liver j  I.  57,  implies  an  allusion  to  the  story  of  Prometheus. 

IV,  1,  6(^-4.  There  is  a  bit  of  by-play  in  this  passage  that  is  not  evident  on 
first  reading.  When  the  King  says  that  Tamyra's  appearance  and  reputa- 
tion deter  ail  men  else  from  attempting  to  court  her,  he  means  all  other 
men  as  well  as  Bussy.  Monsieur,  who  knows  of  the  love  of  Tamyra  for 
Bussy,  pretends  to  agree,  but  really  implies  that  these  qualities  deter 
all  men  btU  Bussy.  His  sneer  is  so  evident  that  Tamyra  at  once  challenges 
him  to  speak  out.  He  declines,  whereupon  the  King,  who  perceives 
that  some  aspersion  is  cast  on  the  lady,  remarks  that  in  his  mind  her 
behaviour,  courtship,  is  more^ffr^,  i.e.  sincere,  unaffected,  than  before,  pro- 
bably with  reference  to  the  snub  she  had  given  Bussy  on  their  first  meetmg. 

IV,  i,  76.    See  note  on  I,  ii,  209-^10. 

IV,  i,  87.  '  The  flame  of  Monsieur's  glories,  i.e.,  his  overweening  vanity, 
is  fed  with  the  uncovered  heads  and  bending  Imees  of  courtiers.' 

IV,  I,  81.  A  box'tree :  emblematic  of  lowness.  Cf.  Byron* s  Tragedy,  V, 
iii,  z^-14,  where  box -trees  are  contrasted  with  the  cedar  of  Lebanon.  Gerard 
in  his  HerbaU,  1597,  speaks  of  the  root  of  the  box-tree  as  harder  than 
the  timber  and  more  fit  for  dagger  hafts,  etc. 

IV,  i,  88.  Armenian  dragons  :  Chapman  may  be  thinking  here  of  the  gold- 
guarding  grifins  of  Scythia  mentioned  by  Herodotus,  IV,  27. 

IV,  i,  116-6.  This  passage  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  Virgil's  Georgics 
II,  325-6. 

IV,  i,  120.  An  insult  similar  to  this  of  Monsieur  was  offered  by  the  King  of 
Denmark  to  the  Lord  High  Admiral  during  the  former's  visit  to  King 
James  in  1606.    See  Von  Raumer,  Letters  from  Paris,  etc.,  vol.  ii,  p.  215. 

IV,  i,  186.  Cynthia :  a  title  of  Diana,  who  was  not  only  the  goddess  of  chastity, 
but  also  the  moon'goddess.  It  is  in  this  latter  characterithat  she  fashions  horns, 

IV,  1, 181.  Monsieur  here  offers  Montsurry  a  letter  which  contains  the  proof 
of  Tamyra's  guilt.  Presumably  it  was  a  love-letter  of  Bussy's  which 
Pero  had  stolen  from  her  mistress  and  conveyed  to  Monsieur.  It  cor- 
responds in  the  play  to  the  letter  which  the  historical  Bussy  wrote  to 
Monsieur  boasting  of  his  conquest  of  Montsurry's  wife.  See  IniroducHon 
to  Bussy,  p.  543. 

IV,  i,  188.    Herod :  see  Acts  xii,  23. 

IV,  U  144.  Some  proud  string :  proud  here  means  '  wanton ',  '  lascivious  ' 
(cf.  The  Gentleman  Usher,  I,  i,  147-8).    S/rwg  refers  to  the  discords  of  1. 143. 

IV,  I,  168  -4.    Irish  wars.    This  phrase  does  not  appear  in  the  first  edition. 


NOTES  557 

If  the  allndoii  is  specific,  the  only  wan  to  which  it  can  allude  are  the 
conspiracy  of  Tyrone  and  Tyrconnel  in  1607,  and  the  revolt  of  Sir  Cahir 
O'Doherty  in  1608,  both  of  which  were  more  full  of  sound  than  hurt. 
After  these  Ireland  was  at  peace  till  the  Great  Rebellion  of  164 1,  by  which 
time  Chapman  had  been  dead  for  seven  years.  This  helps  us  to  date 
the  revision  of  Bussy,  shortly  after  these  events. 

IV»  i*  IM.  Being  best  informed :  when  I  am  at  peace  with  myself,  not  reduced 
to  chaos  (1.  163)  by  suspicion. 

IV,  1, 181-S.  '  Is  it  from  him.  Monsieur,  that  this  stain  upon  my  good  fame 
comes  ?  Then  it  is  no  stain  (since  abuse  by  the  wicked  is  an  honour) 
but  a  beant}r,  and  proves  to  be  the  same  innocence  that,  etc' 

IV,  i,  188.  Chimara :  the  fire-breathing  monster  slain  by  Bellerophon.  He 
had  been  sent  out  against  the  monster  by  the  machinations  of  a  lustful 
queen  whose  advances  he  had  repelled.  According  to  Chapman  it  was  his 
innocence  that  gave  him  the  victory. 

IV,  i,  188.  Peleus:  according  to  an  obscure  Greek  myth  Peleus,  falselv 
accused  by  the  wife  of  Acastus,  whose  preferred  love  he  had  rejected, 
was  robbed  of  his  weapons  by  the  angry  husband  and  exposed  to  the 
wild  beasts  on  Mount  Pdion.  Chiron,  tfaie  centaur,  who  knew  his  innocence , 
rescued  him. 

IV,  i,  186.  The  chaste  Athenian  prince:  Hippolytus,  the  son  of  Theseus. 
His  step-mother,  Phaedra,  sought  his  love,  and  when  he  repelled  her, 
denounced  him  to  his  father,  who  prayed  Neptune  to  destroy  him.  Hippo- 
lytus was  in  consequence  killed  by  his  own  horses  who  were  frightened 
by  a  bull  sent  by  Neptune.  He  was  raised  from  the  dead  by  iEsculapius 
after  his  innocence  was  discovered. 

IV,  i,  187.  The  cleansing  of  the  Augean  stable  from  its  accumulated  filth 
was  one  of  the  labours  of  Hercules.  The  phrase  may  have  been  suggested 
to  Chapman  by  a  line  in  Marston's  Scourge  of  VtUany  (1599),  ^>oQk  iii, 
Proem,  1.  31 : 

To  purge  this  Augean  oxsUM  from  foul  sin, 

IV,  I,  190.  Where  thou  fear'st^  art  dreadful :  *  inspirest  terror  even  in  those 
of  whom  thou  art  afraid.' — ^Boas. 

IV,  i,  IM.  The  serpent :  Monsieur.  Tamyra  goes  on  to  compare  his  slanders 
to  the  dragon's  teeth  sown  by  Jason  and  Cadmus  from  which  there  sprang 
a  host  of  armed  men. 

IV,  i,  808-4.  Tamyra  insinuates,  I  think,  that  the  p^per  which  Monsieur 
had  offered  her  nusband  was  a  forsery  in  Monsieur's  own  hand. 

IV,  i,  811.  Cerberus :  the  guardian  of  the  gate  of  Hades  is  here  contrasted 
with  the  sun  as  being  a  representative  of  darkness  and  night. 

IV,  i,  817.     This  touch :  this  blow,  i.e.  Monsieur's  accusation. 

IV,  1,  887.  Cut  a  Gordian :  a  knot  tied  by  Gordius  in  a  Phrygian  city.  An 
oracle  declared  that  whoever  unloosed  it  should  rule  Asia.  Alexander 
the  Great  being  unable  to  untie  it  cut  it  with  his  sword.  See  Plutarch's 
Lives — Alexander,  chap,  xviii. 

IV,  ii,  0.    'He  (Monsieur)  is  hot  upon  the  scent  of  him  (Mischief).' 

IV,  ii,  84.    *  By  which  all  things  capable  of  terror  are  frightened.' — Boas. 

IV,  ii,  81-8.  The  reference  is  to  Epimetheus^  the  foolish  brother  of  Prome- 
theus, who  opened  Pandora's  box  and  let  loose  its  plagues  upon  mankind. 

IV,  U,  86.  To  wreah  the  sky  :  to  avenge  Uranus,  deposed  from  his  throne 
by  Saturn  and  the  Titans.  In  the  war  of  Jove  against  the  Titans  the 
Cyclops  aided  the  former  by  forging  thunderbolts  for  him.  Chsmman 
seems  to  have  been  rather  pleased  with  1.  37.  He  repeats  it  in  Caesar 
and  Pompeyy  II,  v,  4.    Cf.  also  Hymnus  in  Noctem  {Poems,  p,  4), 

IV,  ii,  40-7.    '  I  will  obtain  an  answer  from  a  spirit  which  I  shall  invoke.' 

IV,  ii,  88-0.  'Emperor of  the  legions  of  the  spirits  of  the  West,  mighty 
Behemoth,  appear,  appear,  attended  by  Asntaroth,  thy  unvanquished 
lieutenant  1  I  adjure  thee  by  the  inscrutable  secrets  of  the  Styx,  by  the 
irretraceable  winmngs  of  HeU,  be  present,  O  Behemoth,  thou  for  whom 
the  cabinets  of  the  mighty  lie  open.  By  the  secret  depths  of  Night  and 
Darkness,  by  the  wandering  stars,  by  the  stealthy  march  of  the  hours 


35«  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

and  Hecate's  deep  sUeaoe,  oome !  Appear  in  spiritual  focni,  ffhaning, 
rerolendent,  lovely/ 

IV,  if  58.  The  name,  Behemoth,  as  that  of  an  evil  spirit,  occurs  in  the  pro- 
nouncement of  the  University  of  Paris  on  the  visions  of  Joan  of  Arc»  and 
in  the  trial  of  Urbain  Grandier,  burnt  in  1634.  There  is  a  note  on  Astarotb 
in  Reginald  Scott's  Discourse  of  Devils,  appended  to  his  Diseooery  of 
WUchorafit  chapter  xz. 

IV»  ii,  88.    Cartopkylax :  guardian  of  papers. 

IV,  ii,  8ft.  The  old  stage  direction  in  this  line  shows  that  when  tiie  play  was 
first  presented  the  demons  attendant  on  Behemoth  stood  about  him  like 
torch-bearers.  As  Cartophylaz  spoke,  one  of  these  spirits  departed 
with  his  torch. 

IV,  U,  88.  Great  in  our  command  :  Mr.  Boas  interprets  this  :  '  powerful 
in  exercising  command  over  us ; '  but  I  should  prefer  to  attach  the  phrase 
to  spirit,  1.  92,  and  interpret, '  great  in  our  host.'  See  for  this  use  of 
command  1.  52  above,  and  The  Revenge  of  Bussy,  II,  i,  243. 

IV,  ii,  88.  The  characters  named  in  the  stage  direction  that  follows  this 
line  enter  on  the  balcony.  Although  they  speak  and  act  in  the  following 
lines,  they  are  not  supposed  to  be  really  present,  but  only  made  visible 
and  audible  to  Bussy  and  Tamyra  by  the  Friar's  art.  Two  similar  situa- 
tions occur  in  Greene's  Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay,  II,  iii,  and  IV,  iii. 

IV,  ii,  108.    Beyond  reflection :  beyond  all  possibility  of  his  being  turned  back. 

IV,  ii,  188.  A  glass  of  ink :  a  letter  which,  like  a  mirror,  reflects  Tamyra's 
unfaithfulness. 

IV,  U,  118.    Fam^s  sepulchres  :  the  tomb  of  her  good  name. 

IV,  ii,  126.    '  Whom  aU  our  efforts  have  been  unable  to  discover.' 

IV,  ii,  165-6.  '  Lest  your  rage,  rising  from  your  premature  knowledge  of 
the  evil  plotted  against  us.' 

IV,  ii,  181.    '  Monsieur's  plot  shall  be  outflanked  by  my  own  against  him.' 

IV,  ii,  188.  The  feeling  centre :  the  conscious  earth,  which  was  then  thought 
of  as  the  oentre  of  the  universe. 

IV,  ii,  184-6.  Possibly  Chapman  is  thinking  here  of  the  famous  passage  in 
the  Odyssey,  XX,  351-4,  where  the  walls  of  Ulysses'  house  sweat  blood 
before  liis  approaching  vengeance  on  the  suitors. 

V,  L  The  one  bearing  hght,  etc.,  is  supposed  to  be  a  servant  of  Mont- 
surry.  His  appearance  here  is  caused  by  the  fact  that  there  was  no 
curtain  for  the  front  stage  where  this  scene  was  played,  and  the  pro- 
perties were  required  for  the  letter  which  Tamyra  was  to  write,  11.  176-7. 

V,  C  6.     Your  revengeful  blood:   the  gratification  of  your  lust  for  revenge. 

V,  i,  17.  The  stony  birth  of  clouds:  the  thunderbolt.  Pliny  (Hist.  Nat. 
XV,  40)  says  that  the  laurel  alone  of  domestic  trees  is  never  struck  by 
lightning,  and  records  a  tradition  that  Tiberius  crowned  himself  with 
lamrel  during  thunderstorms  for  fear  of  the  lightning.  Whitney's  Choice 
of  Emblems,  p.  67,  shows  a  man  clinging  to  a  laurel  tree  for  protection 
aigainst  the  bolts  of  Jove.  Pierre  Matthieu,  Histoire  de  France  (1605) 
vol.  ii,  p.  145  verso,  has  the  marginal  comment  on  a  speech  of  the  Duke 
de  Biron  :  Les  hommes  en  dormant  ne  sont  jamais  frappex  du  foudre. 
Chapman  may  have  seen  this. 

3^  i,  80.    The  wUd  seed  of  vapour :  the  lightning. 

V,  i,  65-6.  '  Anticipating  the  last  blast  that  is  to  kill  those  who  live,  and 
to  give  life  anew  to  the  dead.' — Boas. 

V,  i,  64.    Cf.  the  Aeneid,  iv,  173-5:  Fama  .  .  .  viresque  acquirit  eundo. 

V,  i,  67-S.  My  rocks  :  my  revenge,  or,  perhaps,  the  ambush  I  am  preparing. 
Thy  ruffian  galley :  Bussy,  thy  swaggering  gallant,  spoken  of  in  I.  71  as 
the  spawn  of  Venus. 

V,  i,  71.  '  To  dance  in  a  net '  was  a  proverbial  phrase  meaning  '  to  delude 
oneself  into  the  belief  that  one's  actions  were  concealed  when  in  fact 
they  were  known.'  It  may  perhaps  ^o  back  to  the  story  of  Mars  and 
Venus  caught  in  a  net  bv  vulcan.  Sunilar  phrases  occur  in  the  Spanish 
Tragedy,  IV,  iv,  118,  and  in  King  Henry  V,  I,  ii,  93.  Compare  also  All 
Fools,  II,  i,  252,  and  Chabot,  IV,  i,  136. 


NOTES  559 

T»  l»  M.  For  M  the  comets :  '  in  spite  of  all  the  oomets.' — ^Boas.  Comets 
were  thought  to  portend  disasters. 

▼,i,01«  Nor  in  human  consort:  nor  do  men  lost  in  the  wilderness  of  a  woman's 
beauty  find  human  fellowship. 

▼,  it  98.  Pelion  and  Cytharon :  Pelion,  or  Pelium,  a  mountain  in  Thessaly, 
the  haunt  of  many  wild  beasts. 

Cytharon,  or  Citharon,  a  range  of  mountains  in  Greece,  abounding  in 
game.  Lions  and  wolves  are  said  to  have  been  found  there  in  prehistoric 
times.  See  Chapman's  note  on  Cytheroa  in  the  Gloss  to  The  Shadow 
of  Night  {Poems,  p.  17). 

▼•  if  128^80.  '  Where  all  these  bounds  of  manhood,  noblesse,  and  religion 
have  been  broken,  they  are  kept,  i.e.  preserved,  or  restored,  by  the  infliction 
of  the  penalties  that  their  violation  duly  demands,  even  if  these  penalties 
are  comparable  in  cruelty  to  the  original  violation.'  The  point,  some- 
what obscured  by  Chapman's  diction,  is  that  Montsuzry's  sullied  honour 
can  only  be  washed  clean  in  blood. 

▼•  U 14S.  Thus  I  express  thee  yet :  *  thus  I  give  a  further  stroke  to  my  delinea- 
tion of  thee.' — ^Boas.  This  does  not  seem  satisfactory.  Dr.  Bradley  sug- 
gests that,  as  '  express '  is  used,  as  an  adjective,  of  one  person  who  is  '  the 
portrait '  of  another — *  the  express  image  of  his  person ',  Hebrews  i,  3 — ^it 
may  have  here  a  similar  meaning  as  a  verb,  and  we  may  render  the  passage 
'  I  will  make  the  likeness  between  us  perfect,  make  myself  the  image 
of  cruelty,  as  thou  art  of  adultery,  1.  140. 

V»  U  148.  *  The  image  of  thy  unnatural  depravity  is  not  yet  fully  completed.' 
— Boas. 

▼•  U  146.    This  other  engine :  the  rack. 

▼»  U  151.  *  Tamyra  thinks  that  some  evil  spirit  has  taken  her  husband's 
shape.' — Boas. 

▼,  U  UM.  The  sudden  and  apparently  uncaused  death  of  the  Ftiar  is  a  curious 
anticipaticm  of  Browning's  method  of  killing  off  the  characters  in  his 
early  dramas  by  the  violence  of  their  own  emotions.  The  use  which 
Chapman  makes  of  it,  however,  to  break  down  the  resolution  of  Tamyra 
which  all  her  husband's  tortures  had  not  been  able  to  overcome,  seems 
to  me  a  stroke  of  true  dramatic  genius. 

▼»  U  188-78.  This  passage  at  once  grotesque  and  grandiose  is  eminently 
characteristic  of  Cnapman.  The  sudden  appearance  of  the  Friar  through 
the  secret  vault  has  revealed  to  Montsurry  with  the  suddenness  of  a  flash 
of  lightning  that  it  was  this  trusted  man  of  God  that  had  been  the  dose 
and  most  inennerable  pander  to  Tamyra's  sin.  In  his  amacement  at  this 
discovery,  the  very  xrame  of  things  seems  to  him  turned  upside  down. 
The  bias  toward  sin  has  caused  the  world  to  turn  over ;  now  her  back 
part  braves  that  part  of  the  heavens,  this  hemisphere,  which  her  hypo- 
critical face  had  so  long  mocked.  And  this  revolution  has  exposed  to 
view  all  her  long-ooncealed  illusions*  so  that  men  may  see  how  she  is 
hekl  together  and  maintained  in  being  by  hypocrisy. 

▼•  if  18L    His :  i.e.  man's,  anticipatinjg;  man  in  1. 182. 

▼•  1,  191.  In,  ru  after :  Montsurry  is  addressing  the  oorpse  of  the  Ftiar, 
which  he  here  drags  to  the  secret  vault. 

▼t  ii,  18-16.  A  difficult  passage,  rendered  almost  hopeless  by  the  corruption 
of  the  usually  standard  text  of  the  second  quarto.  I  follow  the  first 
quarto  here  and  interpret  as  follows  :  usually  when  Nature  givea  a  man 
the  qualities  which  we  call  meritorious  and  believe  should  lead  him  {arrive 
him)  to  riches,  etc.,  those  very  qualities  prove  to  be  his  ruhi. 

▼•  ii»  80.    With  terror :  *  inspiring  terror  in  their  enemies.' — Boas. 

▼•  ii,  88.  *  Her  treasury  of  noble  qualities  so  largely  expanded  in  the  endow- 
ment of  a  single  man,'  i.e.  Bussy. 

T»  ii  48-68.  This  passage  is  boirowed,  as  Boas  notes*  direct  from  Seneca, 
Agamemnon,  11.  64-72. 

Non  sic  Libyc^s  Syrtibus  aequor 
Furit  altemos  volvere  fiuUus,  etc. 


56o 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


The  old  translatloa  {Sensok—His  Ttume   Tragsdies,  158 x)  readers  the 
passage  as  follows : 

Not  so  the  raging  sea  doth  boyU  upon  the  sand. 
Where  as  the  southern  winde  that  blowes  in  Africh  lande. 
One  wave  upon  another  doth  heape  Ufith  sturdy  blast : 
Not  so  doth  Euxine  Sea  his  swelling  waves  upcast : 
Nor  so  his  belching  stream  from  shallow  bottom  roll. 
That  borders  hard  upon  the  ysy  frozen  poall  : 
Where  as  Bootes  bright  doth  twyne  his  wayne  about 
And  of  the  marble  seas  doth  nothing  stande  in  double. 
O  how  doth  Fortune  toss  and  tumble  in  her  wheele 
The  staggring  states  of  kynges,  that  readdy  bee  to  reele, 

V,  ii,  67.    'Will  try  the  strength  of  yoiir  hidden  armour.'  Cf.  note  on  V,  iv,  41-6. 

▼•  ili,  17.  His  upper  weed :  his  outer  garment,  i.e.  the  Ftiar's  gown  which 
Montsuiry  had  taken  from  the  corpse,  V,  i,  191. 

V,  ill,  01.    'fhis  embodied  shadow :  this  ghost  when  it  was  still  a  mortal  body. 

▼•  iii,  28.  My  set  brain :  my  mind  set,  or  determined,  on  knowing  how 
things  stand. 

V,  iii,  CL-7.  As  Lamb  {Specimens  of  the  English  Dramatic  Poets)  pointed 
out,  Bussy  in  this  passage  calls  upon  Light  [or  rather  on  the  Sun  god, 
the  King  of  flames,  cf.  Chapman  s  Homer  p.  118],  and  on  Darlmess 
[or  rather  on  Behemoth,  the  Prince  of  shades]  to  solve  the  mystery 
that  troubles  him.  It  is  characteristic  of  the  metaphysical  mind  of  Chap- 
man that  the  final  appeal  is  to  the  prince  of  shades  who  sees  best  where 
men  are  blindest, 

▼,  iii,  7L    '  If  my  death  fulfils  his  prediction.' 

▼,  iii,  ids.  The  signs :  the  signs  of  the  heavens,  with  particular  reference 
to  the  stars  which  govern  man's  life. 

▼•  iv,  0.  '  Before  he  be  overtaken  by  your  husband's  vengeance.'  This 
is  a  peculiar  use  of  the  verb  revenge ;  but  a  similar  use  occurs  in  The 
Trial  of  Chivalry  (BuUen,  Old  Plays,  vol.  iii,  p.  326) ; 

/  hnow  the  viUayne  Bufbon  did  the  deed 
Whom  my  incensed  brother  will  revenge,' 

The  context  shows  that  the  meaning  here  is  :  my  brother  will  take  revenge 

upon  Burbon  for  this  deed. 
V,  it*  £8.    The  stage  direction  after  this  line  shows  that  Monsieur  and  Guise 

enter  upon  the  balcony,  which  is  here  supposed  to  be  a  gallery  overlooking 

the  room  in  Montsurry's  house  to  which  the  vaidt  gives  entrance. 
▼•  iv»  £7-8.    '  What  bugbear  such  as  this  threat  of  murder  does  not  shrink 

in  fear  from  the  very  sleep  of  Bussy.' 
Y,  iv»  41-^    As  the  murderers  enter  at  one  dooTi  the  ghost  of  the  Friar  appears 

at  the  other  and  warns  them  back.    All  flee  except  the  first,  whom  Bussy 

attacks.    Bussy's  sword  fails  to  pierce  his  privy  coat  of  mail,  so  Bussy 

strikes  him  in  the  face  and  slays  him. 
Y,  iv»  68.    A  speeding  sleight  and  weU  resembled:   a  successful  trick  which 

gave  him  (Montsurry)  the  very  resemblance  of  the  Friar.    Cf .  The  Gentle- 

man  Usher,  V,  iv,  20. 
Y,  iv»  66.    Enforce  the  spot :  *  emphasize  the  stain  on  your  honour.' — ^Boas. 
Y,  iv,  88.    '  Then  the  preachers  who  tell  us  of  the  supreme  importance  of  the 

soul  deal  only  with  forms,  not  with  facts.' 
V»  iv*  88-4.    '  Man  is  composed  of  two  devoted  friends  (body  and  soul), 

who  stand  in  the  same  relation  to  each  other  as  lover  and  mistress.' 
V,  !▼,  90-8.    The  anecdote  comes  originally  from  Suetonius,  Vespasian,  24. 
V,  tr,  18(^-8.    Adapted,  as  Boas  notes,  from  Seneca,  Hercules  Oetaeus,  U. 

1522-30 : 

0  decus  mundi,  radiate  Titan, 
Cufus  ad  primos  Hecate  vapores,  etc. 

which  the  old  translation  renders  as  follows  : 


NOTES  561 

'  O  Titan  crownd  wiih  bluing  bush  whose  morning  moysiures  make 
The  Moone  her  foamy  brideU  from  her  tyred  teame  to  take^ 
Declare  to  th*.  Easterlinges  whereas  the  ruddy  morne  doth  rise^ 
Declare  unto  the  Irishmen  aloof e  at  western  skies. 
Make  knowne  unto  the  Moores  annoyed  by  flaming  axerUree, 
Those  that  with  the  ysy  Wayne  of  Archas  pestred  bee. 
Display  to  these  thai  Hercules  to  th*  eternal  ghosts  is  gone 
And  to  the  bauling  mastiffes  den  from  whence  returneth  none. 

V,  iv,  119-21.  We  may,  perhaps,  paraphrase  this  passage  as  follows  :  May 
my  tragic  death  when  laid  in  the  scales  of  your  temper  (or  judgment),  no 
longer  partial,  outweigh  whatever  fault  there  was  in  the  love  I  worthily 
bore  vour  ladv. 

V,  br,  184>140.  llus  is  a  passage  to  which  it  seems  almost  impossible  to  attach 
any  definite  meaning.  Tins  kiiling  spectacle  is,  of  course,  the  wounds 
inflicted  on  Tamyra.  She  is  the  sun  of  Bussy's  life,  and  the  sun  is 
now  turned  to  blood.  But  we  may  well  ask  with  Mr.  Boas  what  Pelion 
and  Ossa  symbolize,  and  what  their  melting  means.  I  think  in  a  general 
way  the  sense  of  the  passage  islhat  mider  the  1  beams  of  this  bloody  sun 
Bussy  feels  his  life  departing  and  pouring  like  a  stream  into  the  ocean 
where  all  human  life  flows,  to  add  more  bitterness  to  that  sea  of  Death. 
But  the  grandiose  imagery  quite  obscures  the  meaning. 

▼,  iv,  148.  D*Ambois  like  Hercules  is  to  become  a  star  in  the  heavens.  See 
Seneca,  Hercules  Oetaeus,  U.  1568-79  : 

Sed  locum  virtus  habet  inter  astra,  etc. 

V,  iVf  161.  The  vast  crystal :  the  highest,  or  crystalline,  sphere  in  which  the 
star  of  Bussy  will  be  set. 

V,  iv,  fM,    Arrived:  i.e,  at  my  goal  of  death. 

V,  iVf  £11-14.  The  figure  of  the  wax  taper,  started  in  1. 209,  is  still  continued. 
The  sweet  taste  of  the  hbney,  from  which  the  wax  came,  has  passed  into 
the  perfume,  savour,  of  the  candle,  and  so  retains  a  spice  of  his  first  parents, 
the  bees,  until,  like  departing  life,  the  light  of  the  candle  flashes  up  and 
then  goes  quite  out,  it  sees  and  dies. 

V«  iv,  818.  Hts  own  stuff  puts  it  out :  the  melted  wax  of  the  inverted  candle 
extinguishes  the  flame. . .  Cf.  Grimeston,  p.  969  :  *  These  two  noblemen 
[Biron  and  D'Auvergne]  were  like  two  torches  which  being  held  down- 
ward are  quenched  with  the  wax  which  did  nourish  them  and  give  them 
light.'  The  original  of  this  is  in  Pierre  Matthieu,  voL  ii,  p.  129,  where 
it  is  applied  to  the  sudden  extinction  of  Biron  and  the  Count  D'Auvergne. 
Bpilogae.    This  first  appeared  in  the  1641  edition.    It  has  evident  reference 

to  the  performance  and  the  actor  alluded  to  in  the  Prologue,  and  must  have 

been  written  at  the  same  time. 


TEXT  NOTES 

In  the  preparation  of  this  text  I  have  made  use  of  the  following  editions, 
denoted  m  these  pages  by  the  symbols  which  here  aooompany  l3iem :  the 
first  quarto,  1607  (A) ;  the  quarto  of  Z641  (B) ;  Dilke's  edition,  Old  Plays, 
181 5,  vol.  iii.  (D) ;  the  edition  contained  in  the  Comedies  and  Tragedies  of 
George  Chapman,  Pearson,  1873  (P) ;  that  contained  in  The  Works  of  George 
Chapman,  edited  by  R.  H.  Shepherd,  1874-5  (S.) ;  and  the  edition  of  Mr. 
Boas  in  The  Belles-Lettres  Series,  1905  (Bo.).  Essentially  I  have  followed  B, 
modernizing  the  spelling  and  punctuation,  and  introducing  a  few  readings 
from  A,  and  modem  emendations.  For  an  elaborate  study  of  the  text  see 
EngUsche  Studien,  v.  38,  p.  359f  ssq.  In  the  Qr  the  play  is  divided  into  acts, 
but  not  into  scenes.' 

O.D.W*  o  o 


562 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


Prologue.    Wanting  in  A. 

Dnunatif   Penonao.    No  such   list 

appears  in  the  Qq.     That  given 

here  is  based,  with  a  few  differ- 

enoes,  on  that  of  Boas. 

I,  i,  ft.  A,  incessant;    B,  continual, 

a.  A,  forging;   B,  forming, 

10,  A,    our    tympanouse    statists; 
B,  men  meerely  g^f^* 

80.  A,  powers  ;    B,  weaUh, 

8S.  A,  glad  ;  B,faine. 

8L  A,  world ;  B,  earth. 
I  S6L  AB,  words  ;  P,  misprints  vofii^. 

40.  A,  poore;  B,  meane, 

48.  A,  likely  ;  B,  possible, 

44.  A,  /U  J  ;  B,  good  to. 

97.  A,  Think*st ;    B,  Cattest. 

80.  A,  doth  ;  B,  doe. 

88.  A,  wish  me  doe;   B,  wish  me, 

88.  A,  as  ;  B,  where. 

88.  A,  portly  ;  B,  humorous. 

110.  A,  eies  ;  B,  loves. 

lis.  A,  rude  ;  B,  old. 

U7.  A,  ruTd  ;  B,  wise. 

188-8.  Wantinff  in  A. 

188.  A,  But  he/s  no  husband  heere  ; 
B,  To  fit  his  seed-land  soyl. 

180,  A,  wOA  ;  B,  for. 

158.  In  the  margin  to  the  right  of 
this  line  B  has  the  direction 
Table,  Chesbord,  &  Tapers  behind 
the  Arras.  This  is  a  direction 
to  the  stage  manager  to  place 
the  properties  required  for  the 
next  scene  (cf.  I,  u,  167)  behind 
the  curtain  which  concealed 
the  rear,  or  alcove,  stage.  This 
is  one  of  numerous  indications 
that  B  was  printed  from  a 
stage-copy  of  the  play. 

188.  A  and  B,  the;   P,  misprints 
tha. 

108.  A,  A  passe;   B,  His  passe. 

157.  A,  £ood  fashion  ;   B,  respect. 

187.  A,   nis  wise  exceUencie ;    B, 
your  great  masters  goodnesse. 

170.  A,  bad  ;  B,  rude. 

180.  A,  highnes  ;  B,  Graces. 

187.  A,  scfiolar  ;  B,  poet. 

188.  A,  excellence;  B,  bounteous 
Grace, 

188.  A,  to  your  deserts  The 
reverend  vertues  of  a  faithful 
Steward  ;  B,  to  you  of  long  ones. 

188.  A,  merrie;    B,  pleasant, 

187.  A,  beleeve  it ;  B,  berlady. 

188.  A,  my  Lord;   B,  his  Grace, 
808-10.  A  omits  these  lines. 
818.  A,  Serve  God  ;   B,  //  you  be 

thrifUe  and,    I  have  preferred 
the  reading  of  A,  as  more  likely, 


the  true  text.    The  weak  and 
unmetrical  version  of  B  repre- 
sents an  alteration  to  avoid  the 
penalty  fixed  by  the  law  of  z6o6 
tor  the  abuse  of  the  name  of  God 
in  stage-plays. 
A,  sown;  B,  set, 
their  fruit.     The  oopv  of    B 
in  the  Bodleian  reads  the  fruit. 
Two    copies    in    the     British 
Museum  their  fruit, 

I,  iL  I  have  added  to  the  original 
staffe  direction  at  the  beginning 
of  this  scene,  which  consists  only 
of  the  names  of  the  characten; 
two  phrases  based  upon  a  pre- 
vious stage  direction.  See  above 
note  on  I,  i,  153. 

I^  U,  2.  A,  this  ;  B,  that. 
4.  Asunder  hand;  Blunder  the  hoMd. 

10.  A.  Court  forme;  B,  Court- 
fashion, 

11.  A,   semi-gods;    B,  demi-gods, 
14-8  A  omits. 

18.  A,  boast;  B,  vaunt. 
80.  A,   rudenesse ;    B,  clowneries, 
88.  A,   deformiOe;    B,   confusion. 
47.  A,  first  borne  ;  B,  sole  heire, 
88.  A,  and  we ;  B,  and  we  more, 
6^  A,   to  be   the  pictures  of  our 

vaniHe, 
88.  A  omits. 
68.  A,  this  Gentleman  f  attend  you, 

B,  a  Gentleman  to  court. 
80-8L  Printed  as  prose  in  Qq. 
92.  A,  I  like;  B,  we  like, 
88.  A,  /  have  ;  B,  we  haw, 

87.  In  this  line  I  follow  B.  A  has 
He  that  willwinne,  must  wooe  her  ; 
sheets  not  shamelesse,  which  Bo. 
prefers. 

88-78.  Printed  as  prose  in  Qq. 
71.  A,  ffiy  love  ;  B,  sweet  heart. 
78.  A,  Beaupres  ;  B,  Beaupre. 
78.  A  omits. 
84-8.  A  omits. 

88.  The  stage-direction  after  this 
line  comes  after  the  words,  on- 
other  riddle  (1.  133)  in  A.  B 
has  the  misprint  Pyrlot  in  this 
direction. 

84-100.  A  omits. 

114.  A,  Sir ;    B,   Duke. 

114-8.  A,  madam;  B,  princely 
mistresse. 

115.  A  omits  another  riddle, 
118.  A,  good  ;  B,  young, 

181-8.  These  lines,  plus  a  speech 
by  GuisOk  So,  sir,  so,  cancelled 
in  B,  appear  after  the  words. 
Another  rtddle  (L  133)  in  A. 


NOTES 


563 


18S-88.  B  prints  this  speech  as 
verse,  the  lines  ending  many^ 
of,  owns,  talk.  Bo.  prints  it  as 
prose  ;  I  think  the  arrangement 
in  the  text  justifies  itself. 

188.  A,  more  courtship,  as  you  love 
ii;B,  Another  riddle. 

180.  A,  Ardor;   B,  Their  heat. 

18L  A,  roaring  ;  B,  braying. 

187.  A  omits  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

198.  Q<^,  how  ;  the  who  in  Bo.  is  a 
misprmt. 

801, 804»  808.  A  gives  the  speeches 
beginning  with  these  Imes  to 
Pyrhotj  Barrisor,  and  L'Anou 
respectively.  I  follow  the  ar- 
rangement of  B. 

801-8.  Qq.  print  this  speech  as 
verse,  the  lines  ending  selfe,  into, 
you.  I  think  the  passage  is 
prose,  though  with  an  echoing 
rhythm  of  the  preceding  verse. 

801.  A,  strange  credulitte ;  B, 
miraculous  jealousie. 

808-8.  A  omits  the  matter  of, 

807.  A,  with;  B,  in. 

818.  A  omits  else, 
n,  L  In  the  stage  direction  at  the 
beginning  of  this  scene  A  has 
Beaumond.  Nuncius ;  B,  Mont- 
surry  and  Attendants.  I  have 
retained  Beaumond  as  the  speech 
beginning  Such  a  life,  U.  105-6, 
is  assigned  to  him  in  B.  Bo., 
who  follows  the  stage  directions 
of  B,  assigns  this  speech  to  Mont- 
surry.  Brereton  in  a  review  of 
Boasts  edition  published  in  the 
Sydney  BuUetin  (Australia)  sug- 
gests that  Beaumond  is  the  name 
of  the  Nimtius  who  enters  after 
1.  24  ;  but  I  think  that  Chapman 
in  this  Senecan  passage  would 
be  more  like  to  introduce  a  name- 
less Nuntius. 
n,  i,  11.  A,   When;    B,   Where. 

87.  A,  his  ;  B,  their. 

70.  A,  sparhPd ;  B  misprints 
spahVd. 

180.  A,  quiche  an  eie  ;  B,  swift  a 
foot. 

ISSS,  I  ioUaw  A,  the  tw*  other,  in  pre- 
ferenoe  to  the  unpronounceable 
th'  tw*  other  of  B. 

188.  I  follow  A,  spirits,  in  prefer- 
ence to  B,  spirit. 

188.  A  omits  the  words  but  he  in 
the  King's  speech.  It  is  possible 
that  they  may  have  crept  into 
B  by  mutake,  but  I  incline  to 


think  that  they  were  added 
deliberately. 

188.  A,  feebled  ;  B,  freckled. 

180.  A,  Cheches  ;  B,  lips. 

188.  A,  fuU  ;  B,  true. 

186.  A,  violent;  B,  daring, 

198.  I  prefer  the  A  reading,  God, 
to  the  B,  Law,  which  I  take  to 
be  an  alteration  of  the  original 
to  comply  with  the  law  of  1606. 

804.  A,  King  ;  B,  Law. 

2Kn,  B  omits  the  words  Mort  Dieu, 

Frobably  for  fear  of  the  censor, 
restore  them  from  A. 

810-18.  These  lines  appear  for  the 
first  time  in  B.  They  were 
evidently  added  to  motivate  the 
following  scene.  In  their  stead 
A  has  two  lines  : 

Buss.    How  shall  I  quite  your 
love? 
Mons.  Be  true  to  theend: 

I  have  obtained  a  kingdom  with 
my  friend. 
D^  it  In  A  this  scene  opens  with  fifty 
lines  (not  forty-nine,  as  Bo. 
states)  which  are  omitted  in  B. 
Most  editors  restore  them  to  the 
text,  but  as  they  seem  to  have 
been  deliberately  omitted,  I  have 
preferred  to  follow  B  in  the  text 
and  reprint  them  here.  The 
scene  opens  in  A  with  the  direc- 
tion, Montsur,  Tamyra,  Beau^ 
pre,  Pero,  CharlotU,  Pyrha. 

Mont.    He  will  have  pardon  sure. 

Tarn.  Twere  pitHe  else : 

For  though  his  great  spirit  something 
overflow. 

All  faults  are  still  borne,  that  from 
greatnesse  grow : 

But  such  a  sudden  courtier  saw  I 
never. 

Beau.  He  was  too  sudden,  which 
indeede  was  rudenesse. 

Tam.  True,  for  it  argtted  his  no  due 
conceit. 

Both  of  the  place,  and  greatnesse  of 
the  persons : 

Nor  of  our  sex :  aU  which  {we  all 
being  strangers 

To  his  encounter)  should  have  made 
more  maners 

Deserve  more  welcome. 

Mont.        All  this  fauU  is  found 

Because  he  lov*d  the  Dutchesse  and 
left  you. 

Tam.  Ahlas,  love  give  her  joy  ;  I 
am  so  farre 

From  Envie  of  her  honour,  that  I 
sweare. 


5^ 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


Had  he  encounUrd  me  such  proud 

sleight : 
I  woM  have  put  that  project  face  of 

his 
To  a  more  test,  than  did  her  Dutches- 
ship, 
Be.     Why  {by  your  leave  my  Lord) 

lie  speake  it  heere, 
{Although  she  be  my  ante)  she  scarce 

was  modesif 
When  she  perceived  the  Duke  her 

husband  take 
Those  late  exceptions  to  her  servants 

Courtship 
To  enterta$ne  him. 
Tarn.  /,  and  stand  him  stiU. 

Letting  her  husband  give  her  servant 

place: 
Though  he  did  manly,  she  should  be 

a  woman. 

Enter  Guise. 
D*Ambois  is  pardoned:    wher^s  a 

king  ?  where  taw  ? 
See  how  it  runnes,  much  like  a  tur- 
bulent sea  ; 
Heere  hi^,  and  glorious,  as  it  did 

contend 
To  wash  the  heavens,  and  make  the 

stars  more  pure : 
And  heere  so  low,  it  leaves  the  mud  of 

heU 
To  every  common  view  ;  come  count 

Montsurry 
We  must  consult  of  this. 
Tarn.  Stay  not,  sweet  Lord. 

Mont.    Be  pleased,   lie  strait  re- 

tume. 

Exit  cum  Guise. 
Tamy .  Would  that  would  please  me. 
Beau.     lie  leave  you  Madam  to 

your  passions. 
/  see,  thirds  change  of  weather  in  your 

hokes.  Exit  cum  suis. 

Tamy.    /  cannot  cloake  it ;  but ;  as 

when  a  fume. 
Hot,  drie  and  grosse:    within  the 

wombe  of  earth 
Or  in  her  superficies  betot : 
When  extreame  cold  hath  stroke  it  to 

her  heart. 
The  more  it  is  comprest,  the  more  it 

rageth  ; 
Exceeds   his  prisons  strength  (ha  i 

should  containe  it. 
And  then  it  tosseth  Temples  in  the 

aire  ; 
All  barres  made  engines,  to  his  inso- 
lent fwy : 
So,  of  a  sudden,  my  licentious  fancy 
Riots  within  me:  not  my  name  and 

house 


Nor  my  reUgion  to  this  houre  observed 
Can  stand  c^xme  it:    I  must  utter 

that 
That  wiU  in  parting  breake  more 

strings  in  me. 
Than  death  when  life  parts  :    and 

that  holy  man 
That,  from  my  cradle,  counseld  for 

my  soule : 
I  now  must  make  an  agent  for  my 

bloud. 

Enter  Monsieur. 
Mons.     Yet,  is  my  mistresse  gror 

tious  ? 
Tamy.  Yet  unanswered  ? 

This  passage  does  not,  I  think, 

contain   anything    ol   dramatic 

importance,  and  was  advisedly 

cancelled. 
21.  A,   weighing  a  dissolute ;    B, 

joyning  a  lose. 
86.  A,  solemne  ;    B,  common. 
6L  A  gives  Tamyra's  speech  in  this 

line  to  Montrsurry]. 
8ft.  A,  profit ;  B,  honour. 
88.  A  and  B,  rio  ;   F,  not,  a  mis> 

print. 

86.  A  omits. 

87.  Qq.  wave.    This  palpable  mis- 
print was  corrected  by  D. 

108.  A,  the  ;  B  misprints  yee. 
188.  A,  that  (hat;   B,  that  which. 
188.  A,  For  love  is  heUefuU  without 

love  agaifu. 
186.  A  omits  the  stage  direction ; 

B  places  it  after  1.  123. 
187-ol.  For  these  lines  A  has : 
Su,  see  the  gvlfe  is  opening  that 

will  swallow 
Me  and  my  fame  forever  ;  I  will  in. 
188.  A  omits  the  stage  direction 

Ascendity  etc.,  after  this  line. 
188.  For  Friar  A  has  Comolet,  and 

so  throughout  the  play. 
191.  A  omits  the  words  with  a  booh 

in  the  stage  direction  after  this 

line. 
816.  A,  sits  ;  B,  wakes. 
284.  A,  Was  something  troubled. 

B,   Made  some  deep  scruple. 
886.  A,  hand;    B,  honour. 
888-80.  A  omits  the  words  from 

his  long  to  pe*fections  inclusive, 

also  ready  in  1.  230. 
886.  A,  comfort;    B,  good. 
846-6.  A  omits  the  stage  directions 

after  these  lines. 
m,  L  The  staffe  direction  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  scene  in  A  is  simply 

Bucy,  Tamyra, 
m,  U  l-8>  A  omits. 


NOTES 


565 


88.  A,   Goddssse ;    B,  servile, 
84.  A,  our  one  soiU  ;  B,  omits  owr* 
8K.  K  *ruth  :  B,  selfe, 

87.  A,  men  ;  B,  one. 

4CMn..  These  lines,  with  the  stage 
directions  after!.  50  and  1.  61, 
are  wanting  in  A,  which  has  after 
1.  44  Exit  D'Amb.  manet  Tamy, 

88.  A,  thy  beauties  ;  B,  thine  eyes. 
118.  A,     underneath     the     King, 

B,  ufider  our  Kin^s  arme. 

m,  iL  stage  direction.  The  text 
follows  B.  A  has  after  Guise, 
Mont.  Elenor  [Le.,  the  Duchess] 
Tam.  Pero. 

m,  ii,  1.  A,  Speake  home  my  Bussy  ; 
B  omits  my,  thus  giving  the 
line  a  syncopated  first  foot.  As 
this  is  a  variation  of  which  Chap- 
man was  rather  fond,  I  think  the 
change  may  have  been  made  by 
the  poet  for  the  sake  of  the 
emphasis  secured  thereby. 
4.  A.  nothing;  B,  sparrowes, 
18.  A,  truth  ;  u,  man, 

89.  A,  than  ;  B,  by, 

58.  A,  oppressed ;  B,  besieged. 
bS,  A,  the  tother  ;   B,  the  rest, 

87.  A,  charge;  B,  bout, 

78.  Qq.  nobly ;  I  accept  Bo.'s 
emendation  noblier. 

88.  A,  equall ;  B,  honoured. 
98.  A,  eminence ;  B,  empire. 
104.  A,  out  one  sticke ;  B,  ot^e  stich 

out. 

106.  A,  was  comprised;  B,  bound 
our  lifes. 

107.  A,  ingenuous  ;    B,  ingefw>us 
These  two  are  mere  variants 

of  the  same  word  in  Elizabethan 
English.  I  prefer  the  sense  of 
A,  and  therefore  print  ingenu- 
ous, 

117.  A»  proove  ;  B,  hold, 
A,  rodde ;  B,  vertue. 

18L  A,  Engender  not ;  B,  DecUru 
not  to. 

181-8.  These  lines  are  wanting  in 
A,  as  is  the  stage-direction  follow- 
ing. For  this  A  has  after  1.  130 
Exeura  Henry,  WAmb.,  Ely.,  Ta, 

140.  A,  proper  ;  B,  worthy. 

140.  A,  gadding;  B,  ranging. 

168.  A,  am/  indeed;  B,  for,  you 
know. 

164.  Qq.  advantage,  I  restore  the 
s  which  I  think  has  dropped  out. 
Sense  and  metre  seem  to  me  to 
demand  this. 

188-1.  A,  being  old,  And  cunning 
in  his  choice  of  layrea  ,*  B,^haft 


Being  old  and  cunning  in  his 
layres. 

188-4.  A,  wh^e  his  custome  is 
To  beat  his  vauU,  and  he  ruts: 
B.  where  {b^irul  some  Queich) 
He  breaks  his  gall  and  rutteth, 

188.  A,  greatest ;  a,  chief  est, 

178.  A,  an  excellent ;  B,  cunningst, 

174-80.  For  these  lines  A  has: 

Mons.  /  have  already  broke  the  ice, 
my  Lord, 

With  the  most  trusted'woman  of  your 
Countesse, 

And  hope  I  shaU  wade  through  to 
our  discovery, 

Mont.  Take  say  of  her,  my  Lord, 
she  comes  most  fitly 

And  we  will  to  the  other, 

181.  A  omits  indeed, 

186.  Bo.  prints  Nay,  pardon  me, 
etc.,  recording  Pray^  as  an  A  read- 
ing. But  the  copies  of  B  at  the 
Bodleian  and  the  British  Museum 
both  have  Pray. 

187-90.  Mnted  as  verse  in  Qq., 
but  it  seems  plainly  prose. 

188.  A,  concerning  thy  ;  B,  of  thy, 

180.  A,  promised  ;  B,  swome  to  thee , 

181.  A,  that  you  have  swome ;  B, 
your  assurance, 

186.  A,  so  it  be  not  to  one  that  wiU 

betray  thee  ;  B,  so  wee  reach  our 

objects. 
188.  A  omits  the  exclamation  mark 

after  Excellent. 
800.  A,    into   earth  heere ;    B,  to 

perdition. 
9(n.  A,   wondring;    B,   watching. 

A  omits  up  after  stole. 

808.  A,  she  set  close  at  a  banquet ; 

B,  her  seHfe  reading  a  letter, 

808.  A,  No,  my  Lord;  B,  I  sweare. 

811-8.  A  omits   the  words   firom 

Why,  this  to  Oh  the  inclusive. 
818.  A    omits    the    words    never 

dreaming  of  D*Amboys.  - 
810.  A,  his  conveyance ;  B,  this  con- 

veyance, 
880.  A,  could ;  B.  should. 

A,  performed ;  B,  made, 
288.  A  lades   the  stage  direction 

after  this  line. 
887.  Before  this  line  A  has  two 

speeches  cut  out  in  B. 
Char.     I  sweare  to  your  Grace, 

all  that  I  can  conjecture  touching 

my  Lady  your  Neece,  is  a  strong 

affection  she  beares  to  the  EngUsh 

Myjor,       ^ 
Gui.    All  quod  you  ?tismou^ 

I  assure  you,butteU  m$. 


566 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


884.  Between  life  and  especiaUy 
A  has  the  wards  if  gke  marks 
iL 

888.  A,  put  off  ;  B,  disguise. 

88a  Kati  B,  from. 

844.  A,  We  be  ;  B,  We  are. 

850.  Qq.  in  ii ;  Bo.  reads  (Mn  U. 

868.  A  omits  great, 

868.  A,  end  of  you  ;  B,  end  of  iL 

878.  A,  J  leave  ;  B,  we  leave. 

874.  A,  my  mercies  ;  B,  our  mercies, 
28L  A  omits  thought. 

888.  A,  horrible  ;  d,  miraculous, 
888.  A,  My  Lord,  Us  true,  and  ;  B, 

Well,  my  Lord. 
885-8.  A  omits  this  speech. 
801.    A,    monster-formed   cloudes  ; 

B,  dark  and  standing  fog^. 
804.  Qq.  in  Bodleian  and  British 

Museum  have  Not  Cerberus.     P. 

and  Bo.  print  Nor. 
806-76.  Instead  of  this  long  pas- 
sage A  has  only  the  following 

lines; 
I  wiU  canceale  all  yet,  and  give  more 

time 
To  D*Ambois  triall,  now  upon  my 

hooks; 
He  awes  my  throat ;  else  like  SybiUas 

cave 
It  should  breath  oracles;    I  feare 

him  strangely. 
And   may   resemble   his   advanced 

valour 
Unto  a  spirit  rais*d  without  a  circle. 
Endangering  him   that  ignorantly 

raised  hini. 
And  for  whose  furis  he  hath  learn* d 

no  limit. 

875.  B,  puts  the  stage  direction 
Enter  oussy  in  the  margin  after 
leap'st  thou  at  L  376. 

878.  A,  head;  B,  browes. 

88L  A,  Sir  ;  B,  Prince. 

884-88.  A  omits. 

888.  A,  This  stiU  hath  made  me 
doubt  thou  do*st  not  love  me, 

804.  ^  for  me  then  ;  B,  therefore 
now, 

807-400.  For  these  lines  A  has  only 
D'Amb.  Come,  doe  not  doubt  me, 
and  command  mee  all  things. 

401.  A.  and  now  by  all;  B,to  prove 
which  by, 

408.  A,  affection  ;  B,  still  flourish- 
ing tree, 

404.  A  omits. 

400.  A  omits. 

488.  A,  begin,  and  sfeake  me  simply ; 
B,  pay  me  home.  He  biae  it 
hravefy. 


485.  K,tofeed;  B,  misprints  so /mA 
481.  A,  wt/tf  ;  B,  strumpet, 

444.  A,  ihat  valour  ;  B.thy  valour, 
A,  my  duftghilt ;  B,  the  demgr 

445.  A,  /  carrie  ;  B,  hath  reference, 
488.  A,  A  perfect ;  B,  The  purest. 
485-6.  Qq.   liave  no  point   after 

tender  and  a  semi-colon   after 

lust.    I  think  the  present  pnno- 

tuation  brings  out  the  tme  sense 

of  the  passage. 
IV,  L  In  the  stage  direction  at  the 

beginning  of  the  scene  A  omits 

wwi  a  Idker, 
I?,i»6.  A;  fare;  B,  foule. 
16b  A,  images  ;  B,  idols, 
81.  A  omits. 

84.  A,  motions  ;    B,  faculty, 
86-8.  In  A  these  lines  belong  to 

Buasy. 
88.  A,  predominance;    B,  divided 

empires, 
88.  A,  claime  ;  B,  Prove, 
88.  A,   tyrannous;    B,  prioHedge, 
65.  A,  dW  ;  B,  and, 
70^  For  these  lines  A  has : 
Bqc.    No,  I  thinke  not, 
Mons.         Not  if  I  nam'd  the  man 
With  whom  I  would  mahe    him 

suspicious 
His  wife  hath  armd  his  forehead? 
Buc.  So  you  might 

Have  your  great  nose  made  mse 

indeed :  and  slit. 
08.  A,  toughrtess  ;    B,  roughnesse. 

Possibly  B  is  a  misprint.    The 

root  of  the  box-tree  was  famous 

for  its  hardness. 
06.  A  omits  the, 
108.  A,  spirit;  B,  minde, 
104.  A,  ^ect ;  B,  desert. 
USL  A,  u  commtnis  to  afflict;    B, 

sieales  on  to  ravish, 
117.  A  omits  and  Ladies  in  the 

stage  direction. 
188.  A  puts  this  stage  directioii 

after  under  in  1.  Z34,  and  omits 

Exeunt  Guise  and  Monsieur. 
147.  A  omits  this  stage  direction. 
151-4.  A,  SweeU  Lord,  deere  up 

those  eies  for  shame  of  ftoblesse: 
MercHesse    creature;      but    it    is 

enough, 
B,   Sweet   Lord,  ]deare  'up    those 

eyes,  unbend  that  mashmg  for^ 

head. 
Whence  is  it  you  rush  upon  her  mith 

these  Irish  warres 
More  full  of  sound  then  hurt  ?    Bui 

it  is  enough. 


I 


NOTES 


567 


I  restore  the  words  fw  shame  of 
nobUsse,  which  I  bdieve  to  have 
been  accidentally  dropped,  and 
rearrange  so  as  to  faring  out  the 
metre. 

180.  A,  hand  ;  B,  fingin, 

190.  A,  Off ;  B  mkpnnts  are, 

IM.  A,  £im»  to  his  teeth  {whence, 
in  mine  honors  soUe, 

805-0.  papers    hold  ...  for    it. 
For  these  lines  A  has : 

Be  not  nice 

For  any  trifle,  jewetd  with  your 
honour, 

To  paeme  your  honor. 

818.  A,  much;  B,  weU. 

817.  A,  my  Lord  ;  B,  ihds  touch. 

888.  A,    lie  attend  your  lordship. 
B,  but  I  wiUto  him. 

884.  A,  Speake ;  B,  Meet. 

888.  A  omits. 
IT,  IL  A  omits  lines  z-z8  inclusive, 
opening  with  the  stage  direction 
She  enters,  her  maid,  for  which  B 
has  Mustek :  Tamyra  enters  with 
Pero  and  her  maid,  etc. 

8L  A  omits  cursed. 

81  After  this  line  A  has  Father, 
followed  by  the  stage  direction 
Aseendit    Sussy    wiOt    Comolet. 

87-80.  Our  love  .  .  .  fool  but  he. 
A  omits  this  passage,  reading 
instead: 

D'Amb.     What    insensaie    stoche. 

Or  rude  inanimate  vapour  without 
fashion. 

00.  A,  ye  see  ;  B,  you  see. 

SL  A  omits  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line. 

88.  A,  caUedst ;  B,  catTdst. 

77.  A,  one;   B,  on. 

80.  The  Qq.  wrongly  sive.  the 
speech,  No  .  . .  see,  to  Moosiem:. 
DiUce  gives  it  to  Behemoth. 
Boas  correctly  to  the  Friar. 

107-S.  Both  A  and  B  give  Pre  as 
the  speaker  of  these  lines,  pro- 
bably a  mere  misprint  for 
Beh[emofh]. 

108.  A,  wherein  you  see  ;  B,  where 
you  may  see. 

V6l  a  omits  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

188.  I  have  followed  Bo. 's  arrange- 
ment of  the  stage  direction  in 
thisline.  A  has  only  £jc»I  Afoul, 
after  €  faith,  1.  136,  and  B,  Exit 
Mont,  and  stabs  Pero. 

188.  K,iU;  B,  cruelty. 

188.  A,  be,  at  least,  if  not  a;  B, 
rather  be  a  bitter. 


liL  A  omits  the  words  To  you 
,  ,  .  To  me. 

144.  A  omits  the  stage  direction. 

VSL  A,  stay  (perhaps  a  misprint 
for  stayne)  ;  a,  die. 

188.  A,  Witt;  B^in. 
his  forc'd.Qq.  Dilke  and  Boas  read 
her.    This  gives  a  plainer  sense, 
but  I  think  his  may  stand. 

188.  A,  and  let  him  cnrb  his  rage 
with  poUcy. 

188.  A,  print ;  B,  taint. 

198.  A,  from  ;  B,  by. 
V»  i«  In  the  stage  direction  A  omits 
the  words  by  the  haire. 

1-4.  These  lines  are  wanting  in  A. 

8L  A,  than  it ;  B,  than  that. 

84.  Qq.  no  more ;  P,  to  more,  a  mis- 
print. 

88.  A,  hateful ;  B,  secret. 

88.  A.  touch  ;  B,  tread. 

88.  The  words  your  terrors  are 
wanting  in  A.  When  added  in 
B,  the  full  stop  after  them  was 
forgotten,  which  gave  rise  to 
S.'s  readhig,  your  terrors  Tempt 
not  a  man  dtstracted.  I  follow 
Bo.'s  punctuation. 

40.  A,  God  ;  B,  Heaven.  I  follow  A. 
A,  ye  ;  B,  you. 

48-4.  A  omits. 

48.  A,  heart ;  B,  breast. 

4B.  A,  ope  the  seven-times  heat  fur' 
nace.  I  follow  B,  which  has  been 
needlessly  emended  to  Or  stand, 
(D.)  and  stand  in  the  (Bo.). 

48.  A,  cares  ;  B,  woes, 

61.  A,  enraged;    B,  devouring. 

80.  A,  God  ;  B,  Heaven.  As  in  1. 
40,  I  follow  A,  taking  B  to  be  a 
change  to  avoid  the  law  of  1606. 

88.  A,  Jaden  for  thy  ;  B,H^'dwith 
quench  for.  On  the  significance 
of  thto  new  reading  see  Modem 
Language  Review,  January,  1908, 
p.  138. 

9L  A,   distract:    B,  devoure. 
A,  state;  B,  consort. 

98.  A,  sins  ;  B,  faults. 

189-80.  A  omits  the  words  from 
with  to  cruOty.    L.  130  reads  in  B 

Of  the  Uhe  cruel  cruelty  :  thine  arms 
have  lost. 
I  omit  cruel  which  I  take  to  be  a 
printer's  error,  harmful  to  sense 
and  metre. 

140.  A,  siiU  ;  B,  ever. 

14L  A,  Uhe  in  iU ;  B,  parallel. 

148.  A  omits  the  stage  direction  ; 
B  places  it  after  1.  144* 

154.  A  omits  with  a  sword  drawne 


568 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


in  the  stage  direotiao^  also  the 
direction  Fails  and  dtss  after  1. 

155. 

174  A,  imtocmU;   B,  worthy^    ■ 

lOS.  A  omits  stage  direction  at  the 
close  of  this  scene  except  the 
word  ExiwfU. 
▼,  U.  This  whole  scene,  except  11. 
54-9,  which  are  wanting  m  A, 
was  originally  placed  at  the 
beginning  of  V,  iv. 
▼,  ii»8.  \.  who  makes  :  B^thatmakes, 

7.  Not  knowing  what  tkey  say.  In- 
stead of  these  words  A  has  the 
following  lines : 

In  whose  hot  leaU  a  man  woiUd 
thinhe  they  knew 

What  they  ranne  so  amay  with,  a$ut 
were  sure 

To  have  rewards  proportioned  to 
their  labours  ; 

Yet  may  implore  their  owne  con^ 
fusions 

For  afty thing  they  hnow,  which  often- 
times 

It  fais  out  they  ineurre, 

&  A,  maese  ;  B,  deate. 

18-7.  This  passage  is  so  badly 
printed  in  0  as  to  make  nonsense 
which  has  puzzled  most  editors. 
I  have  followed  the  periectly 
clear  reading  of  A  for  these  lines. 
The  variants  in  B  are :  1.  13  for 
wee  calif  she  calls ;  1.  14  for 
believe,  beHefe  ;  for  should,  must  ; 
1.  16  for  Ri^ht,  Even;  for  men 
thinke,  me  tktnks  ;  tot  gard  them, 
guard.  Any  one  who  tries  to 
reconstruct  the  passage  in  the 
text  along  these  lines  wul,  I  think, 
feel  as  I  do,  that  Chapman  had 
made  certahi  corrections,'  which 
the  printer  misunderstood,  and 
to  which  the  printer  added 
changes  of  his  own  with  a  result 
of  reducing  the  passage  to  hope- 
less unintdligibuitv. 

S5.  A,    decorum;    B,   proportion. 

88.  A,  an  absolute';  B,  a  perfect, 

88.  A,  whoU  ;  B,  fuU, 

88.  A,  WhyyoushaU;  B,  Yet  shall 
you. 

dS.  A,  let  it;   B  misprints  lefs  it. 

40.  A,  rages  ;  B,  rage. 

41-8.  For  these  lines  A  has  only : 
So  this  full  creature  now  shall 
reels  and  faU. 

44.  A,  purblinde  ;   B,  blind  borne. 

48.  A,  euxine;  B,  Buxian. 

68.  A  omits  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line  and  l.  54-9. 


V»iiL  A  omits  imtftte^a  in  the  stage 

direction-  at  the  beginning  of  this 

scene,  also  Thunder  after  1.  6, 

'  and  Tlnmders  after  U.  53  and  69. 

8.  A,  Craekes  ;  B,  Nods. 

9.A,my;  B,  deaee. 

15-8.  A  omits. 

17.  A,  utmost;  B,  upper. 

40.  A,  su  ;  B,  shme. 

00.  A,  sense  is  ;    B,  men  mre. 

54.  Qq.^give  Sp.  (i.e.  5^mt)asthe 

2)eaker.     I  keep  the  abbrevia- 
on  Bek.    i.e.   Behemoth,  from 

IV,  ii. 
76.  A,  and  force  ;  B,  or  force. 
88.  A  omits  stage  diirection  Anodb. 
84.  A  omits  wiSi  a  letter  written  in 

blood  in  the  stage  ditection. 
85-08.  O     lying    spirU  ...  calls 

himt  for  this  passage  in  B,  A 

has: 
Bttssy.    O  lying  Spirit:   welcome, 

hoed  fabler, 
How  fares  my  dearest  mistresse? 
Mont.  WeU  as  ever. 

Being  well  as  ever  thought  on  by  her 

lord: 
Wherof  she  sends  this  witnesse  in  her 

hands 
And  prases,  for  urgent  cause,  your 

speediest  presence. 
?« iv.  For  the  stage  direction  at  the 

beginning  of  this  scene  A  has 

Inirat    umbra    Comolet    to    the 

Countesse,  wrapt  in  a  cam^>ie. 
▼,  iv,  1-6.  These  lines  are  not  in  A, 

which  has  instead : 
Com.    Revive  those  stupid  thou^, 

and  sit  not  thus. 
Gathering  the  horrors  of  your  servmnts 

slaughter 
(So  urfd  by  your  hand,  and  so 

imminent^ 
Into  an  idle  fancie  ;  but  devise. 
0.  A,   engaged;    B,  revenged. 
14.  A,  fhaoe;  B,  have. 
15-88.  Instead  of  these  lines  A 

has; 
Tis  the  just  curse  of  our  abus*d 

creation, 
Which  wee  must  suffer  heere,  and 

scape  heereaften : 
He  haUi  the  great  mind  that  submits 

toaU 
He  sees  inevitable  ;  he  the  small 
That  carps  at  earth,  and  her  founda- 
tion shaher. 
And  rather  than  himself e,  will  mend 

his  maker. 
88l  The  stage  direction  following 

this  line  is.  wanting  itt  A,  in  which 


NOTES 


369 


Monsieiir  and  Guise  are  on  the 
stage,  presumably  in  a  gallery, 
from  the  beginning. 

8S--6.  These  lines  are  wanting  in  A. 

41.  Wanting  in  A. 

4Z.  The  stage  direction  is  wanting 
in  A. 

48.  The  words  aU  but  the  first  are 
wanting  in  A  in  the  stage  direc- 
tion. 

58.  The  Qq.  put  the  question  mark 
after  lord, 

86.  In  the  stage  direction  A  has 
others  tor  B  all  the  murtherers, 

7h  A  omits  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

78.  The  stage  direction  is  wanting 
in  A ;  B  puts  it  before  1.  72. 

90-8.  These  lines  are  wanting  in 
A. 

81.  The  stage  direction,  wanting 
in  A,  occurs  before  I.  94  in  B. 

106.  The  burning  axletru.  P.  mis- 
prints cuming  ;  which  S.  further 
distorted  to  ctmnmg.  The  Cen- 
tury Dictionary  not  aware  that 
cwming  was  a  misprint,  takes  the 
word  as  a  variant  spelling  from 
'  quern', '  a  handmill ,  and  glosses 
it  as  grinding.  Burning  is  a 
translation  of  the  Latin  fervenH  ; 
see  note  on  this  passage,  p.  561. 

118.  Before  this  line  A  repeats  the 
name  of  the  speaker,  Bus[sy], 
and  for  Now  has  And. 

186.  A,  gainst;  B,  m, 

188.  A,  endless ;   B,  drifts  of, 

148.  For  Qq.  stuch,  Bo.  emends 
struch.    This    does    not    seem 

•  necessary ;  cf.  the  use  of  stich  in 
the  sense  of  'pierce *  in  V,  ill,  48. 

147-58.  These  lines,  preceded  by 
three  others,  cancelled  in  B, 
constitute  the  closing  speech  of 


the  play  in  A.    The  cancelled 

lines    are: 
My  terrors  are  strooh  inmard,  and 

no  more 
My  pennance  wiU  allow  they  shaU 

enforce 
Earthly  afflictions  but  upon  my  selfe. 

147.  A,  relicts ;  B,  rdtques. 

148.  Aj  Joine  flames  with  Hercules  ; 
B  misprints  Jove  flames  with  her 
rules. 

16L  A,    continent:     B,    chrystaU. 
164.  Before  this  line  B  repeats  the 

name  of  the  speaker,  Frier. 
166.  After   this   line   A   has   the 

following  cancelled  in  B : 
Since   thy   revengefuU  spirit   hath 

rejected 
The  charitie  it  commands,  and  the 

remission 
To  serve  and  worship  the  blind  rage 

of  bloud. 
168.  A,  sitting;    B,  hneeling. 

187.  The  exit  of  the  Umbra  is  not 
noted  in  the  Qa. 

178.  After  this  line  A  has  the 
following,  cancelled  in  B : 

My  soule  more  scruple  breeds  than 
my  bloud  sinne, 

Vertue  imposeth  more  than  any 
stepdame. 

188-7.  These  lines  with  the  follow- 
ing stage  direction  are  wanting 
in  A. 

188.  The  word  are,  wanting  in  the 
Qq.,  was  added  by  D.  It  was 
probably  omitted  by  mistake 
after  here,  or  joined  with  that 
word  in  pronunciation,  i.e.  here 
pronounced  as  a  dissyllable  was 
understood  as  equivalent  to  here 
are. 

801.  A  omits  a  before  hunted. 
The  Epilogue  is  wanting  in  A. 


THE  REVENGE  OF   BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

INTRODUCTION 

Thb  Revenga  of  Bussy  D'Ambois  was  entered  in  the  Stationers' 
Registers  on  April  17,  1612,  and  published  in  161 3,  with  the  following 
title-page:  The  Revenge  of  Bussy  D'Ambois.  A  Tragedie.  As  it 
hath  beene  often  presented  at  the  private  Play-house  in  the  White-Fryers, 
Written  by  George  Chapman,  Gentleman,  London.  Printed  by  T.S. 
and  are  to  be  solde  by  John  Hehne,  at  his  shop  in  S.  Dnnstones 
Church-yard,  in  Fleetstreet,  161 3.  The  statement  of  the  title-page, 
together  with  what  is  known  of  one  of  the  sources,  enables  us  to 
fijE  the  date  of  composition  for  this  play  within  tolerably  narrow  limits. 
The  Whitefriars'  Theatre  was  opened  by  the  Queens'  Revels  Com- 
pany,^ under  the  management  ol  Rossiter,  with  Nat.  Field  as  leading 
actor,  early  in  the  year  16 10.*  Chapman  seems  to  have  written  for 
this  company  almost  exclusively  smce  his  break  with  Henslowe  in 
I599i*  and  for  them  he  composed,  probably  after  a  revival  of  his 
tragedy  of  Bussy  at  their  new  theatre,  this  sequel.  The  Revenge  of 
Bussy,*  We  may,  therefore,  safely  place  the  composition  of  this 
play  late  in  x6io,  or  in  161 1,  which  would  leave  time  for  tiie  frequent 
p^ormances  mentioned  on  the  title-page  before  the  entry  in  the 
Stationers'  Registers. 

The  sources  of  the  main  plot  of  The  Revenge  are  as  uncertain  as 
those  of  Bussy,  De  Thou  '  states  that  the  murder  of  Bussy  led  to  a 
nine  years'  feud  between  his  friends  and  the  partisans  of  his  slayer, 
in  which  Bussy's  sister,  Ren^e,  took  a  princ^l  part.  But  this 
statement  first  appeared  in  print  seven  years  softer  the  publication 
of  Chapman's  play,  and  cannot  have  served  as  its  source.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  when  we  consider  the  unhistorical  character  of  the 
main  plot  of  this  play,  we  may  reasonably  conclude  that  no  direct 
source  for  it  ever  existed.  I  take  it  that  Chapman,  perhaps  as  a 
result  of  the  successful  revival  of  Bussy,  decided  to  compose  a  second 
part,  or  sequel,  to  that  play.  This  naturally  assumed  the  form  of  a 
revenge  tragedy,  a  type  notably  popular  in  the  first  decade  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  How  little  connexion  the  main  plot  of  this 
play  has  with  the  truth  of  history  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  reality 
there  was  neither  revenger  nor  revenge  for  the  murder  of  Bussy. 
Chapman's  fieure  of  Ctonont  D'Ambois  cannot  be  identified  with 
any  historical  character;  his  very  name,  indeed,  is  composed  of 
names  and  titles  belonging  to  Bussy  himself:    Louis  de  Clermont, 

^  The  old  Children  of  the  Chapel,  who  had  taken  the  name  of  the  Children 
of  the  Queen's  Revels  in  January,  1604.  Fleay  and  Maas  distinguish  this 
company  after  their  reorganization  and  migration  to  Whitefriars  as  the 
Second  Queen's  Reveb  Omipany. 

*  Maas  Ai^ere  Geschickte  der  EngUschen  Theater-truppen,  pp.  60,  167. 

*  The  apparent  exception  is  Bussy,  which  was  at  one  time  performed  by 
Paul's  -Boys ;  but  see  my  article,  The  Date  of  Bussy,  in  Modem  Language 
Review,  January,  2908. 

*  For  the  probable  revival  of  Bussy  at  Whitefriars  see  my  article  quoted 
in  the  preceding  note. 

■  Historia  sui  temporis,  vol.  iii,  lib.  Ixvii,  and  voL  v,  lib.  cxiii 

ill 


572        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

Sieur  de  Bussy  D ' Amboise.  ^  And  the  revenge  taken  by  this  imaginary 
hero  upon  bis  brother's  murderer  is  as  imaginary  as  the  hero  hunself , 
for  the  feud  was  composed  by  order  of  Heoiry  III  shortly  before  his 
death,'  and  the  historical  Montsurry,  whom  Chapman  represents 
as  dying  under  Qermont's  pword»  was  actually  alive  at  the  time  his 
death  was  being  represented  on  the  stage  of  Whitefriars,  and  survived 
to  receive  Marie  de  Medici  at  Angers  as  late  as  1616.* 

If  the  main  plot  of  The  Revenge  may,  therefore,  be  considered  as 
Chapman's  invention,  the  source  of  two  striking  episodes  of  the  play 
has  been  definitely  ascertained.  Professor  Koeppel  showed  Jong 
since  ^  that  the  ultimate  source  of  Chapman's  account  of  the  arrest 
of  Clermont  was  to  be  found  in  Pierre  Matthieu's  Histoire  de  France, 
J 605 1  and  that  of  the  murder  of  Guise  in  Jean  de  Serree'  Inventaire 
GinSral,  and  Mr.  Boas  has  since  pointed  out*  that  the  immediate 
source  drawn  on  by  Chapman  for  both  of  these  was  Grimeston's  General 
Inventory  of  the  History  of  France,  1607.  The  death  of  Guise  was 
taken  over  with  httle  change  from  Grimeston's  narrative,  but  the 
account  oi  Clermont's  arrest  was  adapted  in  all  its  details,  but  with 
a  complete  change  of  characters,  from  the  seixnre  of  the  Count 
D'Auvergne,  the  bastard  son  of  Charles  IX,  as  told  by  Grimeston 
under  the  date  1604.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  this  extraordinary  wresting 
of  the  facts  of  history  moved  certain  critics,  the  '  poor  envious  souls' 
of  Chapman's  dedicatory  epistle,  to  cavil  at  the  want  of  truth  in  his 
play. 

Mr.  Boas*  makes  the  ingenious  suggestion  that  the  story  of  D'Au- 
vergne's  arrest  in  Grimeston  was  the  '  inspiring  source  '  of  Chapman's 
play.  This,  I  must  confess,  seems  to  me  a  misuse  of  terms.  In 
The  Revenge  of  Bussy  ^e  arrest  of  Clermont  is  purely  episodic,  and 
has  so  little  vital  connexion  with  the  main  plot  of  tiie  play  that  I 
cannot  imagine  how  Chapman's  perusal  of  the  story  in  Grimeston 
could  in  any  way  have  suggested  to  him  the  composition  of  a  tragedy 
of  revenge  for  Bossy's  murder.  I  should  conceive  Qiapman's  method 
of  composition  to  have  been  sometiiing  as  follows.  Having  deter- 
mined to  write  a  sequel  to  his  successful  play  of  Bussy,  and  to  give 
it  the  form  of  a  revenge  tragedy,  he  began  to  construct  a  scenario 
and  at  once  found  himself  confronted  with  a  very  practical  di£Blculty. 
A  tragedy  of  revenge  must  be  built  up  along  fairly  fixed  lines.  The 
charge  of  revenge,  the  inciting  motive,  must  be  laid  upon  the  revenger 
as  early  as  possible,  so  as  to  get  the  action  promptly  under  way.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  accompl^hment  of  this  charge,  which  constitutes 
the  proper  catastrophe,  miist  be  deferred  until  tiie  last  act,  so  as  to 
wind  up  the  play  properly.  This  leaves  a  yawning  chasm  of  three 
acts  which  must  somehow  be  filled,  and  in  such  a  way  as  to  maintain 
the  interest  of  the  audience.  Kyd,  in  the  play  which  served  as  the 
first  model  for  the  Elizabethan  tragedy  of  revenge,  evaded  this  diffi. 

^  Mr.  Boas'  notion  that  Chapman  took  the  name  Clermont  from  a  mention 
of  the  town  Clermont  in  Grimeston  seems  to  me  most  unlikely.  Boas* 
Bussy,  p.  zxxv. 

"  De  Thou,  vol.  iii,  Ub.  Ixvil. 


Joubert.  of,  ciL,  pp.  198-9,    , 

Koeppel,  guMen  und  ForsckungeUf  1897,  p.  43. 


Boas,  Bussy,  p.  xzzii,  ssq, 
BoaSf  Bussy,  p.  xzxiv. 


INTRODUCTION  573 

ealty  by  deferring  the  incitement  to  revenge  until  the  third  act  ^ « 
and  as  a  consequence  The  Spanish  Tragedy  drags  woeiully  through 
the  first  two  acts.  Shakespeare  in  Hamlet  found  a  real  solution  of 
the  problem  by  filling  the  interval  between  the  Ghost's  demand  for 
vengeance  and  Hamlet's  final  accomplishment  of  his  purpose,  with 
a  series  of  scenes  which  reveal  the  character  of  the  revenger  and  show 
how  it  is  to  the  peculiar  constitution  of  this  character  that  the  long 
postponement  of  the  revenge  is  due.  Chapman  was  in  1610  too 
experienced  a  playwright  to  fall  into  the  mistake  of  Kyd,  but  he  was 
by  no  means  a  subtle  enough  psychologist  to  repeat  the  splendid 
success  of  Shakespeare.  Searching  for  some  matter  to  fill  up  the 
space  between  the  first  and  last  acts  of  his  projected  play,  which 
should  serve  as  an  objective  obstacle  to  hinder  the  performance  of  the 
revenge,  he  hit  upon  the  story  of  the  arrest  of  D'Auvergne,  fresh  in 
his  mind  from  his  work  on  the  Byron  plays,  in  which  this  character 
had  already  appeared,  and  to  which  this  story,  as  told  by  Grimeston, 
was  in  some  sdt  an  epilogue.  This  incident  seemed  to  Chapman  to 
possess  a  double  value.  It  wouldi  in  the  first  place,  interest  his  hearers, 
since  it  presented  under  the  thin  disguise  of  fictitious  names  a  recent 
exciting  episode  in  French  politics.  Such  an  interest  was  assured 
to  the  poet  by  the  marked  success  of  the  Byron  plays,  due,  we  may 
well  believe,  rather  to  the  interest  of  the  audience  in  contemporary 
French  politics  and  court  gossip  than  to  their  appreciation  of  Chapman's 
poetry  and  philosophy.  And  secondly,  while  explaining  the  kmg 
delay  of  the  revenge,  it  would  illustrate  the  character  of  the  hero,  and 
reveal  his  qualities  of  unworldliness,  courage,  and  patience  in  adversity. 

The  connexion  between  Hamlet  and  The  Revenge  of  Bussy  is  a 
commonplace  of  criticism  ;  but  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  noticed 
that  this  relation,  except  in  certain  details,  is  not  one  of  imitation.* 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  one  of  deliberate  and  carefully  planned  contrast. 
It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say,  I  think,  that  such  a  disciple  of  the  Stoic 
doctrines  as  Chapman  must  have  felt  something  like  contempt  for 
the  character  of  Hamlet.  The  very  qualities  which  humanize  Hamlet 
and  render  him  more  sympathetic  to  our  modem  minds,  his  irresolution, 
his  self-contempt,  his  excess  of  emotion,  his  incapacity"  for  deliberate 
action,  his  sudden  and  spasmodic  bursts  of  energy,  must  all  have 
unfitted  him  in  Chapman's  mind  for  the  high  position  of  a  tragic  hero. 
And,  if  Hamlet  were  u&worthy,  what  must  Chapman  have  thought 
of  the  other  heroes  of  the  contemporary  tragedy  of  ;revenge,  Antonio, 
Hoffmann,  and  Vendice,  brutal,  reckless,  haU-mad,  and  whoUy  lacking 
in  that  self-restraint  which  is  the  first  of  Stoic  virtues.  Over  against 
Hamlet  and  such  characters  as  these  Chapman,  writing  at  a  time  when 
the  tragedy  of  revenge  had  already  run  its  course,  set  up  his  ideal 
figure  of  the  revenger,  the  '  Senecal  man',  Clermont  D'Ambois. 

A  brief  comparison  of  Clermont's  action  in  this  tragedy  with  the 
behaviour  of  mmlet,  Hofimann,  and  the  rest  will  show  the  difference 
of  Chapman's  conception.  Here  are  no  frantic  self-accusations,  no 
madness  real  or  feigned,  no   slaughter  of  innocent  victims  in  default 

1  Bellimperia's  letter  to  Hieronimo  in  III,  ii,  may  be  taken  as  oonstituiing 
this  incitement. 

'  The  scene  between  Clermont,  Guise  and  the  Umbra,  V,  i,  is,  as  Koeppel 
has  pointed  out,  a  patent  imitation  of  that  between  Hamlet,  his  mother,  and 
the  Ghost. 


574         THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

of  the  tme  object  of  vengeance.  Clennoat  receives  the  charge  of 
revenge  from  his  brother's  ghost.  ^  He  accepts  the  task,  prohibits 
all  other  attempts  at  revenge  on  the  part  of  Bussy's  kindred,  and 
loathing  any  course  but  the  noblest  and  most  manly,  sends  a  challenge 
to  the  murderer.  When  Montsurry  refuses  to  receive  it,  Clermont 
bides  his  time  in  patience.  To  the  reproaches  of  his  sister,  giving 
utterance  to  the  unschooled  passion  for  revenge — ^the  cry  of  blood  for 
blood  that  dominated  the  old  tragedy — ^he  answers  calmly  that  a 
virtuous  action  need  not  be  hastened,  and  that  no  virtuous  action 
can  '  proceed  from  vicious  fury '  (III,  ii,  1 10-2).  Confronted  with 
his  sister's  elemental  passion,  Clermont  seems,  indeed,  almost  ready 
to  renounce  revenge  altogether  as  unfit  for  the  philosopher  ;  '  I  regret', 
he  says,  '  that  e'er  I  yielded  to  revenge  his  murder ' ;  and  the  reason 
for  this  repentance  strikes  down  to  the  very  heart  of  Chapman's  con- 
ception of  the  philosophic  hero,  '  never  private  cause  should  take 
on  it  the  part  of  public  laws '.  In  this  mood,  apparently,  Qermont 
remains  tiU  toward  the  close  of  the  play.  It  is  not  until  the  second 
appearance  of  Bussy's  ghost  calling  for  revenge  that  he  reassumes  his 
task.  But  this  reassumption  is  not  in  consequence  of  any  reproaches 
on  the  part  of  the  ghost,  nor  to  any  outburst  of  natural  emotion,  but 
siinply  m  obedience  to  the  rules  of  conduct  that  guide  his  life,  re-stated 
by  The  ghost  and  applied  to  his  present  situation  in  a  speech  remarkable 
for  its  close-packed  and  logically  developed  thought  (V,  i,  78-^).  It 
closes  by  repelling  Clermont's  reason  for  abstaining  from  revenge  by 
the  argument  that  the  individual  is  bound  to  act  where  public  justice 
has  failed, 

what  corrupted  law 
Leaves  unperformed  in  kings,  do  thou  supply. 

Nothing,  again,  could  be  more  unlike  the  whirlwind  of  passion  in 
which  H^let  sweeps  his  enemy  from  the  stage  of  life  than  the  cool 
and  almost  disinterested  fashion  in  which  Clermont  forces  his  brother's 
murderer  to  meet  him  sword  in  hand,  strikes  him  down,  and  then 
dismisses  him  to  the  other  world  with  his  blessing,  '  for  all  faults 
found  in  him  .  .  .  this  end  makes  full  amends  .  .  .  rest,  worthy 
soul.'  Othello's  phrase,  '  an  honourable  murderer,'  may  be  more 
justly  applied  to  Clermont  than  to  Othello  himself,  for  Clermont  in 
very  truth  does  '  nought  in  hate,  but  all  in  honour  '. 

llie  play  closes  with  the  suicide  of  Clermont,  and  here  again  we 
may  note  Chapman's  deliberate  divergence  from  the  convention 
of  the  revenge  tragedies.  From  Hieronimo  to  Vendice  '  the  revenger 
had  waded  so  far  into  a  sea  of  blood  that  he  was  overwhelmed  by  its 
waves.  The  fate  of  each  one  of  them  is  intimately  connected  with 
and  brought  about  by  the  revenge,  to  the  accomplishment  of 
which  he  has  sacrificed  so  much.  In  Chapman  we  find  an  entirely 
new  motive  entering  after  the  accomplishment  of  the  revenge  to  deter- 
mine the  hero's  fate.  No  sooner  has  Clermont  finished  with  Mont- 
surry than  he  hears  of  the  murder  of  his  friend  and  patron,  the  Duke 

^  This  is  the  stock  convention  of  the  tragedy  of  revenge,  but  it  is  interesting 
to  note  that  even  here  Chapman  departs  from  the  convention  in  that  he  does 
not  bring  the  ghost  upon  the  scene,  but  only  refers,  and  that  most  briefly, 
to  his  appearance  and  cry  for  revenue,  see  I,  1.  83-5. 

*  An  exception  must  be  made,  of  Marston^s  Antonio,  who  retires  to  a 
convent. 


INTRODUCTION  575 

of  Guise,  by  order  of  the  King.  It  is  impossible  for  CXermoiit  to 
undertake  a  new  revenge  for  this  murder,  since  he  holds  that 

Thsr^s  no  disputing  wilh  the  acts  of  kings, 
Reoenge  is  impious  on  their  sacred  persons 

— a  sentiment,  by  the  way,  which  savours  rather  more  of  Stuart  politics 
than  of  Stoic  doctrine.  Unable,  therefore,  to  revenge  his  friend,  he 
chooses  rather  to  lay  down  his  own  life  and  rejoin  him  than  to  remain 
exposed  'to  aJl  the  horrors  of  the  vicious  time.'  Like  Cato  or  Brutus 
when  the  Republic  had  fallen,  Clermont  chooses  a  Roman  death 
rather  than  a  servile  life. 

Fully  to  understand  Chapman's  conception  of  the  ideal  hero  in 
the  rdle  of  tiie  revenger,  it  would  be  necessary  to  analyse  the  play 
scene  by  scene,  for  ^  whole  play  is  little  else  than  an  elaborated 
portrait  of  the  hero,  painted  with  numerous  and  carefully  planned 
strokes.  These  are  to  be  found  not  so  much  in  the  actions  of  the 
hero— Chapman  had  but  a  small  part  of  Shakespeare's  gift  of  character 
portrayal  by  means  of  action — as  in  the  speeches  of  Clermont  himself 
in  the  eulogies  of  his  friends,  and  in  the  reluctant  admissions  of  his 
enemies.  He  is,  first  of  all,  a  man  of  fiery  temper  and  dauntless 
courage,  restrained  and  guided  by  a  strong  and  disciplined  wilL  He 
is  '  as  true  as  tides  or  any  star '  in  his  devotion  to  his  friends.  mA 
scholar,  as  well  as  a  soldier,  he  possesses  '  the  crown  of  life,  which 
learning  is '.  Yet  he  is  no  bookish  pedant,  but '  holds  all  learning  but 
an  art  to  live  well ',  and  practises  that  art  in  his  daily  life.  A  follower 
of  the  Stoics,  he  has  the  words  of  their  great  teacher,  Epictetus,  in 
his  mouth,  and  his  precepts  in  his  heart.  He  despises  the  common 
objects  of  men's  desire,  riches,  courtly  ^vour,  popular  applause, 
sensual  gratification,  and  seeks,  in  true  Stoic  iashion,  to  identify  himself 
with  the  moral  order  of  the  Universe.^  Fixing  his  eyes  upon  the 
thin^  of  the  mind,  Qermont  is  wholly  indifferent  to  outward  things, 
captivity,  poverty,  death  itself — 

//  any  man 
Would  neither  live  nor  die  in  his  free  choice, 
But  as  he  sees  necessity  will  have  it 
(Which  if  he  would  resist,  he  strives  in  vain) 
What  can  come  near  him  that  he  doth  not  will? 
And  if  in  worst  events  his  will  be  done. 
How  can  the  best  be  better?    AU  is  one. 

In  short,  we  have  in  this  play  Chapman's  full  length  portrait  of  the 
perfect  man  of  Stoic  doctrine  placed  in  a  Renaissance  setting,  the 
court  of  the  last  Valois,  in  which,  to  Chapman's  mind,  there  were 
but  too  many  analogies  with  that  of  the  first  Stuart  King  of  England.  ■ 
It  is  easy  enough  to  point  out  Chapman's  inferiority  to  Shakespeare 
as  a  dramatist,  particularly  in  the  matter  of  characterization.  Yet 
it  is,  perhaps,  quite  as  capable  of  demonstration  that  in.  The  Revenge 
of  Bussy  Chapman  has  set  up  an  ideal  of  character  and  conduct  that, 
regarded  from  the  ethical  point  of  view,  is  stronger  and  loftier  than 
any  to  be  found  in  contemporary  drama.  And  if  we  would  jodge 
Chapman  by  his  own  standard,  we  must  remember  that  to  him,  as 

>  See  especially  the  speeches  adapted  from  Epictetus,  III,  iv,  58   esq, 
and  IV,  i,  131  esq,,  and  notes  ad  loc 

*  See  espedally  I,  i,  3^-70,  and  the  note  theieon. 


576        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

to  Sidney  and  most  Renaissance  critics,  the  ethical  standpoint  was 
the  only  possible  one  for  the  true  poet.  Even  Homer,  he  held»  wrote 
with  a  moral  purpose,^  and  in  the  drama  he  believed  that  '  material 
instruction,  elegant  and  sententious  e^diortation  to  virtue,  and  deflec> 
tion  from  her  contrary  '  were '  the  soul,  limbs,  and  limits  of  authentical 
tragedy '.  ■ 

In  the  composition  of  The  Revenge  Chapman  subordinated  every- 
thing else  to  the  characterization  of  Clermont,  and  this  fact  explains 
the  curious  transformation  undergone  in  this  play  by  some  of  the 
characters  who  had  ahready  appeared  in  Bussy.  The  King,  Guise 
and  Montsurry  have  no  longer  any  interest  in  themselves  for  Chapman, 
but  are  regarded  simply  as  foils  to  bring  out  the  character  of  Clermont. 
Thus  Henry  III,  who  in  the  earlier  play  appears  as  the  royal  and 
generous  patron  of  Bussy,  reappears  in  The  Revenge  as  the  enemy  of 
Qermont.  As  a  consequence,  his  character  is  depicted  in  a  whoUy 
different  light,  and  he  is  shown — ^no  doubt  with  a  closer  approach  to 
historical  truth — as  sensual,  vacillating,  treacherous,  and  bloody. 
On  ^the  other  hand  Guise,  who  had  been  Bussy's  chief  opponent  at 
Court  and  one  of  the  accomplices  in  his  murder,  appears  here  as  the 
bosom  friend,  at  once  patron  and  disciple,  of  Clermont.  Consequently 
Chapman  completely  reverses  his  portrayal  of  this  proud  and  turbulent 
noble,  depicts  him  in  The  Revenge  as  '  a  true  tenth  worthy ',  and 
strains  all  his  powers  of  paradox  to  wipe  from  his  reputation  the  one 
blot  which  in  all  English  minds  would  forever  '  distain '  him,  the 
Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.*  Montsurry,  again,  who  in  Bussy 
commands  in  a  measure,  at  least,  our  respect  for  his  ftdth  in  his  wife, 
his  horror  at  the  discovery  of  her  guilt,  and  his  resolute  determination 
to  have  revenge  at  any  cost,  becomes,  in  the  later  play,  a  poltroon 
clinging  desperately  to  his  wretched  life  until  shamed  into  some  sem- 
blance of  manhood  by  the  generosity  of  Clermont.  Such  a  trans- 
formation can  only  have  been  caused  by  Chapman's  desire  to  exalt 
Clermont's  stoical  indifference  to  death  by  contrast  with  his  enemy's 
behaviour.  Finally,  such  minor  figures  as  Baligny,  Maillard,  and 
Charlotte,  with  their  treachery,  perjury,  and  passion,  are  mere  foils 
for  the  fidelity,  sincerity,  and  self-command  of  the  hero. 

Enough  has  been  said,  I  think,  to  demonstrate  the  central  and 
shaping  idea  of  The  Revenge  of  Bussy,  As  a  drama,  it  is  markedly 
inferior  in  action,  variety  of  characterization,  and  buoyant  energy  of 
verse  to  Chapman's  first  tragedy.  It  is  neither  easy  nor  entertaining 
reading,  and  it  must  have  hdcen  all  Chapman's  reputation  as  a  poet 
and  all  Field's  ability  as  an  actor  to  obtain  for  it  on  the  stage  the 
numerous  performances  referred  to  in  the  title-page.  Yet  for  the 
intelligent  reader  The  Revenge  of  Bussy  has  a  double  interest.  Record- 
ing ChapmsA's  protest  against  a  popular  type  cd  contemporary  tragedy, 
it  reveals  his  own  conception  of  the  tragic  hero,  and  thus  throws  a 
flood  of  light  upon  the  ideals  which  governed  his  own  life.  And  it 
embodies  these  ideals  in  verse  of  such  grave  and  solemn  music  as  to 
leave  on  every  reader  capable  of  appreciating  philosophic  poetry 
an  indelible  impression  of  '  the  wealth  and  weight  of  its  treasures  of 
ethical  beanty '.  * 

^  See  the  interesting  passage  on  this  point  in  III,  iv,  24-25. 

s  Dedication  to  The  Heoenge  of  Bussy. 

*  See  II,  i,  196-334. 

^  Swinburne,  Essay  on  Chapman,  Worhs — Poems,  p.  zliv. 


THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

NOTES 

Dedication.  Sir  Thomas  Howard,  the  second  son  of  the  first  Earl  of  Suffolk, 
and  himself  first  Earl  of  Berkshire,  was  a  distinguished  figure  at  the  Courts 
of  J ames  I,  Charles  I,  and  Charles  II.  His  daughter  Elizabeth  married  Dryden, 
and  her  brother,  Sir  Robert,  was  the  well-known  dramatist  and  critio  of  the 
Restoration.  One  of  the  sonnets  attached  to  his  translation  of  the  lUad 
by  Chapman  is  addressed  to  Sir  Thomas  Howard.  Here  the  poet  praises 
the  courtier's  patronage  of  '  humblest  merit,'  and  compares  him  to  Hfomer's 
AntUochus,  '  valiant  and  mild  and  most  ingenious '. 

The  soeoioal  presentation :  the  stage  performance.  From  Chapman's 
tone  in  this  passage  it  would  seem  that  the  play  had  not  met  with  unanimous 
applause,  and  it  may  be  that  its  slight  success  was  one  of  the  reasons  which 
led  to  its  being  surrendered  by  the  company,  when  they  united  in  26x3  with 
Henslowe's  men,  to  the  author,  who  published  it  with  this  apologetic  dedication. 
I    Of  their  side  :  on|[the  side  of  the  maligners, 

^  The  anthentioal  tiruth.  It  would  seem  from  this  sentence  that  one  of  the 
objections  urged  by  the  maligners  was  that  this  play  was  untrue  to  history. 
It  is  against  the  claim  that  a  drama  should  present  an  accurate  account  of 
historic  facts  that  Chapman  protests  in  the  following  passage,  which  gives  us 
his  theory  of  tragedy. 

Some  other  of  more  general  aooonnt :  the  dedication  of  another  work 
which  will  be  more  generally  acceptable.  Perhaps  the  reference  is  to  the 
approaching  appearance  of  Chapman's  translation  of  the  Odyssey,  1614. 

most  divine  philosopher.  Epictetus,  whose  Discourses,  as  Boas  has  pointed 
out,  strongly  influenced  this  play. 

Matter  of  my  faith.  With  this  confession  of  his  belief  in  immortalitv  It 
is  interesting  to  compare  the  elaborate  argument  on  this  theme  put  mto 
Cato's  mouth  in  Caesar  and  Pompey,  IV,  v,  00-241. 

The  Actors'  Names.  This  is  the  heading  ox  the  list  of  dramatis  ptrsona^ 
in  the  first  edition.  Many  of  the  characters  have  already  appeared  in  Bussv, 
Of  the  new  names  Renel,  a  Marquesse,  was  probably  suggested  by  the  title 
of  Antoine  de  Clermont,  Marquis  de  Renel,  murdered  by  Bussy  on  the  night 
of  St.  Bartholomew'.  Busay's  sister,  Ren6e  (not  Charlotte),  married  Jean 
de  Montluc,  Seigneur  de  Balagny  (hence  Chapman's  Balieny)  and  Marshal 
of  France.  Chapman  may  have  got  a  hint  as  to  her  haughty  and  impatient 
character  from  Grimeston,  who  relates  that  she  died  the  very  ni^ht  after 
her  husband  signed  the  capitulation  of  Cambrai,  '  not  able  to  endnre  that 
so  precious  a  jewel  as  Cambrai  (whereof  she  was  newly  created  princess) 
should  fall  into  the  Spaniards'  cruel  hands'  (Grimeston,  ed.  x6ii,  p,  934). 
The  name  of  the  usher,  Perricot,  is  taken  from  Grimeston,  p.  724,  who  ^ves 
the  name  of  Guise's  secretary  as  Pericart.  The  Ghasi  of  Chatttlion  is  that 
of  the  great  Huguenot  leader,  Coligny,  frequently  referred  to  by  EngUsh 
contemporaries  under  his  family  name  of  Chattillon.  The  name  of  the  servant, 
RiovOf  may  be  a  misprint  for  Riona,  which  in  this  case  would  come  from 
the  town,  Ryon,  mentioned  in  Grimeston,  p.  X048. 

I9  U 1^-^  Given  by  suit,  etc. :  permission  given  to  suitors  to  murder  foe  thefr 
personal  aggrandisement. 

1^  If  SS-Tll.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  in  these  speeches  Chapman's  lament 
over  the  degeneration  ol  English  character  dunng  the  peace  that  followed 
C.D.W.  »77  P  P 


578        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

the  aceession  of  King  James.  Chapman's  sjrmpathies,  as  became  an 
old  Elizabethan  and  a  panegyrist  of  that  *  thmiderbolt  of  war ',  Sir 
Horace  Vere,^  were  all  with  the  war  part^r. 

1^  it  M.    Ends  ought  reoforded :  ends  by  obtaining  any  reward. 

I,  i,  M.    a.  IV,  i,  104. 

1^  i»  71-8.  Baligny's  appeal  to  Guise  is  only  a  bait  to  elicit  an  expression 
from  Hotel  which  might  be  eonstmed  as  treasonable.  As  appears  later 
on,  Baligny  is  a  spy  and  tool  of  the  King,  and  finally  an  accomplice  in  the 
murder  of  Guise  (V.  ii,  36-9). 

It  U  9^7-  Renel,  the  decayed  lord,  has  been  forced  bv  a  lawsuit  of  Mont- 
surry's  to  ofier  his  last  remaining  property  for  sale.  Montsurry  wishes 
to  buy  it,  but  the  price  has  not  yet  been  agreed  on  between  them. 

!•  i,  Uii.  His  Guisean  greatness :  his  importance  in  the  Guisean  faction 
or,  perhaps,  his  intimacy  with  Guise. 

it  i»  U4  TkiU  sincerity :  that  very  impossibility  of  becoming  dishonest, 
i.e.  treasonous. 

L  It  14D-L  '  The  more  black  we  paint  the  best  men,  the  more  our  state* 
craft  is  thought  to  be  acute  and  penetrating*. 

I,  iy  144.  Stage  direcUon.  Henry  only  passes  over  the  sta^e  here.  The 
quarto  does  not  mark  his  exit,  but  as  no  speech  is  ^ven  him,  it  is  plain 
that  he  goes  off  immediately.    Monsieur's  leave-takmg  is  in  dumb  show. 

L  it  140*  Monsieur's  connexion  with  the  Low  Countries  be^an  as  early  as 
1577.  In  Z580  be  accepted  the  soverei^ty  of  the  provmoes  that  had 
revolted  from  Spain,  and  in  1582  he  was  installed  Duke  of  Brabant.  He 
threw  away  his  position  by  his  treacherous  attack  on  Antwerp  in  1583. 

I,  I,  Ifift-B.    Compare  Romeo  and  Juliet,  I,  v,  47-^. 

It  if  180.  m  part  engendering  virtue :  I'll  separate  Qermont  from  Guise, 
in  whom  he  &  begetting  his  own  virtue.  The  words^  of  course,  are  spoken 
with  a  sneer. 

It  i,  20ft.    His  worst  thoughts  of  me :  cf.  Bussy  D^Ambois,  III,  ii,  462  seq. 

I*  U  8M.  A  French  crown :  a  coin  of  varying  value.  The  '  crown  of  the 
sun  '  of  Louis  XII  served  as  a  model  for  the  English  coin. 

It  i,  Mt-8.  The  poverty  of  Epaminondas,  mentioned  by  Plutarch  {Pdopidas, 
ill)  was  a  commonplace  of  later  moralists.  Aelian's  anecdote  (For.  Hist., 
V,  5)  no  doubt  suggested  Chapman's  phrase,  no  mote  suits  than  bachs. 

Mt  iff  ttML  A  heei  was  a  boat  used  for  conveying  coal  from  the  North  to 
LondoQ,  hence  the  common  term  '  sea-coal.'  This  taunt  of  Monsieur's, 
quite  inapplicable  to  the  circumstances  of  the  real  Bussy,  would  have  a 
special  meaning  to  Chapman's  audience,  who  probably  had  seen  more 
than  one  Scotch  gentleman  of  longer  pedigree  than  purse  arrive  at  Court 
by  this  cheap  conveyance. 

I,  !•  MhL    Cf.  The  CentUman  Usher,  III,  ii,  zo8-xi. 

Use  not  my  lordship   nor  yet  caU  me  lord. 
Nor  my  w^le  name  Vincentio,  but  Vimee, 
As  they  eaU  Jach  or  Will;  *tis  now  in  use 
'Twixt  men  of  mo  equality, 

It  t  S^«  ^  puzzling  line.  I  suspect  some  corruption  in  the  text.  Dr. 
Bradley  suggests  that  we  might  read  '  sucks '  for  seehs.  Em/rod$, 
an  old  variant  of  *  hemonhoids '.  might  in  that  case  be  applied  figuratively 
to  such  sores  on  the  body  politic  as  Monsieur.  Mr.  Boas  thinks  there 
may  be  a  reference  in  this  speech  to  the  '  poor  knights '  of  Windsor, 
pensioners  on  the  royal  bounty. 

1^  i,  1B77.  Swisser:  a  hireling  soldier.  Switzerland  was  at  this  time  the 
great  recruiting  ground  for  mercenaries,  and  the  term  *  Switzer '  i^ 
often  used  to  denote  a  faired  soldier,  especially  in  some  royal  guard.  Cf . 
Hamlet,  IV,  v,  97. 

1^  I*  fM4b,  Clermont  echoes  here  his  brother's  phrase  (cf.  Bussy^  III,  ii, 
395,  400) ;  but  the  quiet  fashion  in  which  he  answers  Monsieur's  insolence 
and  unveils  the  hoUownesa  of  his  claims  for  men's  respect  h  ' 

1  See  ChapnuB*!  poem.  Pro  Vtre,  AutumiU  Lackrynme,  i6st. 


NOTES  579 


at  once  of  the  speaker  and  of  the  tone  of  this  play— as  cbazaetedstic  as 
Bussy's  outburst  of  abuse  (III,  ii,  462  s^q.)  is  of  Chapman's  earlier  work. 

I,  i»  M8.    Won  to  thHr  hands :  already  secured  to  them  by  their  ancestors. 

It  U  880.    Cf.  Homo  sum;  humani  nihil  a  me  alienum  puto.     Heaui.  Tim.  77. 

I,  U  9UL  It  is  not  necessary  to  suspect  an  allusion  to  As  You  Like  Jt  in 
this  line.  The  idea  is  as  old  as  the  Greek  Anthology,  (X,  72),  with  which 
Chapman  is  qpite  as  likely  to  have  been  acquainted  as  with  Shakespeare'i 
play,  first  pnnted  in  2623. 

I,  C  88i5w  The  good  Greek  moralist:  Epictetus.  The  following  passage, 
to  1.  342,  is  an  adaptation  of  the  Discourses,  IV,  vii,  13.  As  lii.  Boas 
has  pointed  out,  Chapman  mistook  the  sense  of  the  word,  vnoK^mt,  in 
this  passage  for  '  actor '  in  the  technical  sense,  not  uxiderstanding  that 
Epictetus  used  it  here  only  for  one  who  plays  a  part  in  life.  On  this 
mistake  Chapman  builds  up  his  illustration. 

I,  U  848.  Innovating  Puritan.  An  elaborate  study  of  the  long  struggle 
between  the  Puritans  and  the  stage,  marred  somewhat  by  its  own  puri- 
tanical bias,  is  given  by  £.  N.  S.  Thompson  :  The  Controversy  between 
the  Puritans  and  the  Stage,  Yale  Studies  in  English,  No.  XX,  190^. 

I»  i.  864.  The  spUnaHve  philosopher :  Democritus,  called  also  *  the  laughing 
philosopher '.  Seneca,  De  Ira,  II,  zo,  says  :  Democritnm  aiunt  mmquam 
sine  risu  in  publico  fuisse. 

h  U  856-74.  This  passage  may  have  been  suggested  by  Juvenal,  Satire  X, 
U,  33-53 : 

Democritus  could  feed  his  spleen,  and  shake 
His  sides  and  shoulders  till  he  felt  *em  ache  ; 
Tho*  in  his  couniry  town  no  Lidors  were. 
Nor  Rods,  nor  Ax,  nor  Tribune  did  appear. 
Nor  all  the  foppish  gravity  of  show 
Which  cunning  mag&trates  on  crowds  bestow. 

•  •  *  . 

He  laughs  at  aU  the  vulgar  cares  and  fears. 
At  their  vain  triumphs  and  their  vainer  tears. 
An  equal  temper  in  his  mind  he  found. 
When  Fortune  flatter'd  him,  and  when  she  frowned. 

Dryden's  translatioo. 

The  elaboraticm  of  the  idea,  with  the  instances  of  the  lawyer,  the  trades- 
man, the  hypocrite,  and  the  widow,  is  Chapman's  own  work. 

I»  U  857.    He  so  conceited:  he  saw  in  such  a  light. 

I,  ii.  In  order  to  connect  Tamyra  with  the  revenge  taken  for  the  murder 
of  her  lover,  Chapman  has  brought  her  back  to  her  husband's  house. 
He  can  hardly  have  contemplated  this  when  he  wrote,  or  even  when  he 
revised  Bussy,  for  there  the  se|>aration  of  the  guilty  wife  and  the  murderout 
husband  is  looked  upon  as  eternal ;  cf.  Bussy,  V,  iv,  i9z>22z. 

I»  ii*  0.  Prevent  that  length :  anticipate  the  length  of  time  that  must  elapse 
before  the  murder  of  Bussy  is  revenged. 

L  ii,  18.     The  sphere  of  fire :  cf .  Bussy,  V,  iv,  Z48-53. 

1^  ii,  86.  Stm  on  this  haunt:  still  brooding  on  this  theme.  Cf.  Byron's 
Tragedy,  III,  i.  Z73. 

I,  Ii,  87«  Cockatrice'like,  The  cockatrice  was  thought  to  be  hatched  from 
the  eggs  of  an  old  cock  brooded  over  by  some  '  venomous  worm '.  See 
Trevisa,  Barth.  de  Prop.  Rerum,  XII,  z6. 

L  Uf  87-*-88*  The  diction  of  this  passage  is  so  reminiscent  of  two  passages 
in  Bussy  that  it  must  almost  certainly  have  been  written  after  them. 
One  of  these  (III»  ii,  486)  occurs  in  both  versions  of  Bussy ;  the  other 
(V,  i,  68)  only  in  the  later  version  represented  by  the  quarto  of  Z64Z. 
It  seems  lair  to  conclude  from  this,  that  the  later  version  was  made  before 
The  Revenge  of  Bussy  was  written,  i.e.  before  x6zz-a.  I  have  discussed 
this  point  fully  in  an  article  on  the  date  of  Bussy,  Modem  Language  Review, 


I'uhS:"^ 


These  lines  oocur  with  but  few  changes  is  Chapnua's  poem 


580        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  1 

A  Good  Woman  {Po^ms,  p.  151)  induded  in  Petrazch't  Pemiential  Psalms^ 
etc.,  1612.  This  poem,  a  paraphrase  in  heroic  couplets  of  portions  of 
Plutarch's  ConjugaHa  Praecepta,  must  have  been  written  before  TJu 
Revenge  of  Bussy. 

I9  iU  96,  Conditions  of  most  large  contents :  most  liberal  conditions  of  snr* 
render. 

L  ii»  76.    Cf.  Bussy,  V,  iv,  124-31. 

I,  ii,  70.  '  Still  retain  in  their  wounds  the  right  to  demand  that  you  shall 
beg  forgiveness.  This  you  have  not  yet  done»  and  so  the  right  is  un- 
observed.* 

I»  il,'  80.  The  fiction.  This  fable  appears  in  Aesop  (no.  83,  Teubner  ed.), 
but  Chapman  probably  found  it  in  the  same  essay  of  Plutarch  from  which 
11.  S3-6z  are  orawn,  viz.,  Conjugalia  Praecepta,  xii.  Here  we  have  not 
only  the  fable,  but  the  same  application  to  the  inroper  treatment  of  wives 
by  husbands  as  in  Chapman. 

!•  ii,  108.  '  Consideration  for  her,  i.e.  for  her  desire  of  revenge,  is  the  chief 
cause  of  this  design.' 

X,  ii,  108.    His  guard :  the  guard  Montsurry  has  set  at  his  door  ;  cf .  I,  i,  94-5. 

I»  U«  1M~6.  Kenel,  for  some  reason  which  Chapman  has  not  troubled  to 
ezplain,^retends  here  to  take  Montsurry's  part  against  Baligny.  Perhaps 
he  wishes  to  conceal  from  his  creditor,  Montsurry,  the  fact  that  Baligny 
has  gained  admission  through  his  (RenePs)  device. 

I.  ii.  180.    Cf.  Othello,  IV,  ii,  37-30  ;  and  The  Gentleman  Usher,  III,  ii,  388-9. 

II,  U  40-4.  '  Since  they  (i.e.  God's  universal  laws,  1.  38)  make  good  that 
guard,  and  preserve  both  heaven  and  earth  in  their  order  and  for  their 
original  purpose,  it  follows  that  no  wrong  imagined  by  any  individual 
as  inflicted  upon  him  by  these  laws  can  really  be  hekl  a  wrong,  even  though 
it  seems  a  wrong  to  aU  human  reason,  law,  and  conscience  *. 

n,  i,  08.    *Tis  weU  conceited :  that  is  a  good  conc^tion,  or  idea. 

n,  £  88.    For  his  valour's  season  :  to  modify,  or  temper,  his  valour. 

n,  i,  184.  Of  industry :  on  purpose,  deliberately,  after  the  Latin  phrase 
de,  or  ex,  industria.  Cf.  Ill,  iv,  14-17.  Milton  uses  the  same  phrase, 
Tenure  of  Kings,  p.  4,  '  a  dissembled  piety,  fain'd  of  industry  to  beget 
new  commotions'. 

Ilr  it  105-8.  Euphorbus,  a  Trojan  hero  who  inflicted  the  first  wound  on 
Patroclus,  and  was  slain  in  the  battle  over  that  hero's  body  by  Menelaus 
(see  Iliad,  XVI,  805-17  ;  XVII,  9-53).  On  this  latter  passage  Chapman 
notes  in  his  translation  :  '  This  Euphorbus  was  he  that,  in  Ovid,  Pytha- 
goras saith  he  was  in  the  wars  of  Troy.' 

Ipse  ego — nam  memini — Trofani  tempore  belli 
Panthoides  Euphorbus  eram. 

Metamorphoses,  XVI,  z6o-z. 

n,  U  108-88.  Baligny  is,  of  course,  playing  up  to  Guise  in  this  speech  in 
justification  of  conspiracy  and  rebellion.  It  is  characteristic  of  Chapman, 
however,  that  the  speaker  drops  out  of  his  r61e  almost  at  once  and  becomes 
a  mere  mouthpiece  of  the  poet  himself. 

n,  i,  114.  The  grave  Greek  tragedian :  Sophocles.  The  reference  is  to  the 
Antigone,  11.  446-57.  Antigone,  who  has  just  heea  seized  while  per- 
forming the  funeral  rites  for  her  brother,  is  asked  by  Creon  whether  she 
did  not  know  that  an  edict  had  forbidden  this,  and  if  she  had  dared  to 
transgress  that  law.  She  replies  :  '  Yes ;  for  it  was  not  Zeus  that  had 
published  me  that  edict ;  not  such  are  the  laws  set  among  men  by  the 
Justice  who  dwells  with  the  gods  below ;  nor  deemed  I  that  thy  decrees 
were  of  such  force,  that  a  mortal  could  override  the  imfaiUng  and  unwritten 
statutes  of  heaven.  For  their  life  is  not  of  to-day  or  yesterday,  but  from 
all  time,  and  no  man  knows  when  they  were  first  put  forth '. 

Jebb's  translation. 

n,  i,  184.  '  Both  Idng  and  subject  in  such  cases  are  exempt  from  criticism 
and  objection.' 

n,  i,  185-8.  Chapman  himself  caUs  attention  in  his  margiaal  note  to  the 
tonroe  of  this  oictam,  i.e.  Sophodes,  Antigone,  U.  z75-7« 


NOTES  581 

*  No  man  can  be  fully  known,  in  soul  and  spirit  and  mind,  until  he  hath 
been  seen  versed  in  rule  and  law-giving/ 

J  ebb's  translation. 

II»  It  140.  '  The  overflowing  contents  of  great  vessels  cannot  be  contained 
by  smaller  ones.' 

II»  U  IM-ttl.  The  marginal  reference  shows  that  this  passase  was  suggested 
to  Chapman  by  £pictetus»  Discoufses,  IV,  i,  35  :  *  Men  ke^  tame 
lions  shut  up,  and  feed  them,  and  some  take  them  about ;  and  who  will 
say  that  this  lion  is  free  ?  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  the  more  he  lives  at  his 
ease,  so  much  the  more  he  is  in  a  slavish  condition  {quo  moUius  degwU, 
eo  servUius)}  * 

Long's  translation. 

Ut  U  166-7.  Domitian*8  practice  of  catching  flies  is  mtationed  by  Suetonius, 
D&mUian,  iiL 

II»  i»  176-8L  This  seems  to  be  Chapman's  alteration  of  a  fable  of  Aesop 
(no.  184,  Teubner  edition).  There  it  is  related  how  the  caxpel  begged  horns 
from  Jove,  who,  angered  at  his  request,  took  awav  even  his  ears.  I  have 
not  been  able  to  discover  a  version  of  this  fable  which  corresponds  to 
that  in  the  text.  The  allusion  in  Byron* s  Conspiracy ,  IV,  i,  X38-9»  t^J 
quite  well  be  to  the  original  form.  The  marginal  note,  simil.,  cmposite 
1.  z8i  is  meant  to  call  attention  to  the  simile,  not,  as  Mir.  Boas  thu^,  to 
indicate  that  the  passage  is  drawn  from  the  same  source — the  Discourses 
of  Epictetus — as  that  to  which  the  ^vious  marginal  note  refers.  For 
a  like  use  of  such  a  marginal  note,  siwtL,  see  A  Hymn  to  Hymen,  appended 
to  Chapman's  Masque  of  the  Middle  Temple  and  Lincoln*s  Inn  (Pearson's 
reprint,  vol.  Ill,  p.  zao). 

II»  U  184.  The  foolish  poet :  Suffenus.  The  whole  passage,  11.  184-92,  is 
an  adaptation  of  Catullus,  xxii :  '  That  Sufienus,  Varus,  whom  you 
know  very  well,  is  a  charming  fellow,  and  has  wit  and  good  manners. 
He  also  makes  many  more  verses  than  any  one  else.  I  suppose  he  has 
got  some  ten  thousand,  or  even  more,  written  out  in  full  .  .  .  Imperial 
paper  {chartae  regiae)  new  rolls,  new  bosses,  red  ties,  parchment  wrappers : 
aU  ruled  with  lead  and  smoothed  with  pumice,  when  you  come  to  read 
these,  the  fashionable  well-bred  Suffenus  I  spoke  of  seems  to  be  nothing 
but  any  goatherd  or  ditcher,  when  we  look  at  him  again  ;  so  absurd  and 
changed  is  he.  How  are  we  to  account  for  this  ?  The  same  man  who 
was  just  now  a  dinner- table  wit  ...  is  more  clumsy  than  the  clumsy 
country  whenever  he  touches  poetry ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  he  is  never 
so  complacent  as  when  he  is  writing  a  poem,  he  delights  in  himself  and 
admires  himself  so  much.' 

Translation  of-F.  W.  Cornish. 

n,  i.  189.  Ape-lov*d :  foolishly  loved.  The  allusion  is  to  the  old  story  of 
the  she-ape  who  hugged  her  child  to  death  out  of  pure  love.  See  Whitney, 
Choice  of  Emblems,  p.  188  :  '  With  kindness,  lo,  the  Ape  doth  kill  her 
whelp ' ;  and  Pliny,  Nat,  Hist^  VXXI,  80. 

D;  i,  804.  The  Massacre :  of  St.  Bartholomew,  1572,  in  which  Guise  played 
a  leading  part.  Professor  Koeppel  (loc.  cit,  pp.  49-51)  has  called 
attention  to  the  sophistical  defence  ot  the  Massacre  here  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Oermont,  and  sees  in  it,  along  with  other  passages — 
Strozza's  apology  for  pilgrimages  and  votive  offerings  in  The  Gentleman 
Usher,  V,  u,  31-44,  and  Byron's  euloey  of  Philip  II  in  The  Tragedy  of 
Byron,  IV,  ii,  1x6-55 — signs  of  a  gradual  aporoach  on  Chapman^s  part 
to  the  Roman  Church.  It  is  certain  that  Qiapman  never  entertamed 
the  hatred  of  that  church  felt  by  some  of  his  contemporaries,  notably 
Marlowe  and  Peele,  but  his  love  of  paradox  and  of  flouting  received 
opinions  would,  I  think,  be  sufficient  to  account  for  such  passages.  The 
whole  spirit  of  Chapman's  work  is  rather  that  of  a  freethinker  of  the 
Renaissance  than  ot  a  Catholic  of  the  Reaction. 

Of  i»  831-88.  As  Mr.  Boas  has  pointed  out,  this  passage  is  '  freely  adapted 
and  transposed '  from  Epictetus,  the  philosopher  of  1.  231  {Discourses, 
1,  zzviil,  ZZ-20) :  cf.  espedaUy  I,  xzviii,  23—'  If,  then,  it  had  happened  to 


582        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

Meaelaustofeelthatitwasagain  to  be  deprived  of  such  a  wile  [asHeleQ], 
what  would  have  happened  ?  Not  only  would  the  lUad  have  been  lost, 
but  the  Odyssey  also*, — with  11.  229-33. 

n,  U  9I0-9.  This  reference  to  Clermont's  hoirse  is  borrowed,  as  Koeppel 
(loc,  cU.  p.  44)  has  shown  from  Matthieu's  account  of  the  airest  of  the 
Count  D*Auvergne,  which  Chapman  found  in  Grimestoo. 

n,  !•  SM-TO.  These  lines  are  taken  directly  from  the  speech  pot  by  Ovid 
into  the  mouth  of  Pythagora^^ 

juoat  ierris  et  m^rti  seds  rsliciie, 
Nube  vehit  validique  humeris  insistere  AtianHs : 
Fattantesque  animos  passim  ac  rationis  egenies 
Despectan  procitl,  tr^pidos^ue,  obiiumgus  timiities. 

Metamorphoses,  XV,  148-51. 

/  mind  to  leave  the  earth  and  up  among  the  stars  to  sty, 
I  mind  to  leave  this  grosser  place,  and  in  the  clouds  to  fiy. 
And  on  stout  Atlas*  shoulders  strong  to  rest  myself  on  high. 
And  looking  down  from  heaven  on  men  that  wander  here  and  there 
In  dreadful  fear  of  death  as  though  they  void  of  reason  were. 
To  give  them  exhortation  thus, 

Golding's  translation. 

in^  It  l^-C*  Bacchus  is  said  to  have  erected  pillars  in  India.  Hercules  did 
the  same  on  either  shore  of  the  Straits  of  Gibralter.  The  epithet  insulting 
is  applied  to  these  pillars,  because  they  were  supposed  to  mark  the  extreme 
limits  to  east  and  west  of  num's  conquest  pr  discovery. 

in^  i*  4Z-6.  Aumale,  who  is  a  bit  of  a  philosopher,  sees  a  just  cause,  rnerO, 
for  Clermont's  fall  in  his  brother's  sin,  which  has  infected  the  whole  family. 

in*  i»  67-8.    Hold  colours :  offer  a  pretext. 

in,  it  80-74.  This  device,  like  most  of  the  details  of  Clermont's  arrest,  is 
taken  from  Grimeston. 

nit  U  82-8.  '  Who  does  not  know  how  Statecraft  stufib  up  a  huge  bugbear 
in  order  to  exalt  his  own  wisdom  in  dealing  with  it,  even  though  the 
encounter  be  as  slight  as  a  combat  with  a  shadow,  so  long  as  the  individual 
whom  Statecraft  desires  to  render  suspected  is  harmed  thereby.' 

nit  i,  87.    '  Such  a  thing  might  happen  once,  but  not  continually.' 

m,  it  82-8*  '  This  [Clermont's  support  of  Guise's  ambition]  must  outweigh 
shadows,  and  is,  in  fact,  a  capital  crime.' 

nit  ii,  1.  This  refers  to  the  shows  01  the  stage  direction.  These  were  pageants, 
or  masques,  to  greet  Renel. 

m,  iit  12-18.  The  Locrian  princes  :  Locri,  a  Grecian  colony  in  Southern  Italy, 
was  famous  for  its  good  laws  and  dislike  of  alterations  (Demosthen^ 
adv,  TimocraL  139-41).  This  account  of  the  punishment  inflicted  there 
on  newsmongers  comes  from  Plutarch,  De  Curiositate,  viii. 

in,  ii,  17-81.  There  is  a  close  parallel  to  this  simile  in  Chapman's  Andromeda 
Ljberata^  1614  [Poems,  p.  183). 

in,  ii,  88.  'That,  i.e.  to  esteem  honour   as  the  price  and  value  of  service. 

in,  ii,  89.    In  any  rate  of  goodness :    in  any  estimation  of  virtue. 

in,  ii,  4L  Demetrius  Phalereus  :  an  Athenian  orator  who  was  placed  at  the 
head  of  affairs  in  Athens  by  Cassander.  His  administration  was  so  popular 
that  the  citizens  erected  three  hundred  and  sixty  statues  to  him.  After 
ten  years  of  rule,  however,  he  was  expelled  from  Athens,  and  his  statues, 
all  but  one,  were  destroyed.     See  Diog.  I^ert.  De  Clar,  Philosoph,,  V, 

_  75-;. 

m,  ii,  47.  Demades:  an  Athenian  orator  of  the  time  of  Demosthenes. 
Plutarch,  Demosthenes,  x^  says  it  was  generally  confessed  that  his  extem- 
pore orations  surpassed  the  studied  speeches  of  Demosthenes.  In  a 
passage  in  Praeupt,  Gerend.  Rdpub.  xxvii,  Plutarch  couples  the  names 
of  Demetrius  Phalereus  and  Demades  and  tells  how  the  statues  of  the 
latter  were  melted  i^to  '  matulae.*  This  is,  of  course,  the  source  of  Chap- 
man's lines. 


NOTES  583 

m,  li,  61-M.  Chapman  based  this  soeae  of  the  anonymoiis  letter  upon  a  state- 
ment in  Grimeston,  that  D'Auvergne  bad  iateUigenoe  that  there  was  a 
plot  to  seize  him. 

in,  ii.  91.    '  In  postponing  the  revenge  doe  to  my  brother.' 

in,  li,  197.  No  Ume  occurs  to  kingi  :  time  is  not  a  matter  that  kings  need 
consider,  or,  perhaps,  taking  occttrs  in  the  legal  sense,  time  does  not 
run  for  kings. 

ID,  ilf  114.  *  To  endure  all  ill  which  cannot  be  avenged  by  good  deeds,'  i.e. 
where  revenge  would  necessitate  a  crime. 

nil  ii,  121-8.  '^Montsurry's  refusal  of  the  challenge  justly  exposes  him  to 
every  advantage  you  can  take  of  him.' 

nit  ii«  189-97.  This  description  of  Madame  Perigot  may  have  suggested 
to  Fletcher  a  character,  Lenctppe,  and  a  broadly  comic  scene,  11,  iii, 
h&  his  Humouwus  Luuimant,  1619. 

nH^  11*  186.  Atden,  There  is  more  likely  to  be  a  direct  reference  to  the 
Ardennes  here  than  in  Bussy  II,  i,  94 ;  see  note  ad  loc. 

OS,  ii,  1M*5.  '  This  report  of  an  attempt  to  seize  me  is  not  due  to  my 
apparent  neglect  of  my  duty ;  that  [i.e.  my  revenge]  will  be  as  oertainly 
accomplished  in  the  future  as  it  is  unfulfilled  at  i^esent,  even  if  this  report 
be  true.' 

nit  li»  199.  Strip  off  my  shams  wUh  my  atUre :  cf .  the  parallel  in  A  Good 
Woman  {Poems;  p.  151).  This  ezpressioQ,  quoted  by  the  Wife  of  Bath's 
fifth  husband,  is  as  old  at  least  as  Herodotus.    See  Hatod,  I,  8. 

m,  it,  1701  This  letter's  inUh:  the  actual  fact  reiened  to  in  this  letter  as 
likely  to  happen. 

in,  li,  179.    *  It  the  report  be  as  true  as  it  is  extraordinary.' 

in,  il,  899-891.  Chapman  built  up  this  episode  of  the  search  from  a  hint 
in  Grimeston,  p.  1048 :  '  He  [D'Auvergne]  hath  since  confest  that  hee  was 
ready  to  call  the  two  brothers  of  Murat  into  his  cabinet,  and  to  cause  them 
to  be  searcht,  for  that  he  was  well  advertised  that  they  alwayes  carried 
the  King's  letters  and  bis  commandments.' 

in,  ii,  889-6.  Another  hint  from  Grimeston  :  '  D'Euxre  [one  of  the  con- 
spirators against  D'Auvergne]  thanked  him  for  the  paine  it  had  pleased 
him  to  take  to  see  his  companions,  beseechin^^  him  to  thinke,  that  he 
desired  it  with  great  affection,  to  tbe  end  the  Kmg  mi^t  know  they  were 
not  in  so  bad  estate  as  at  the  voya^  of  Metz.' 

in,  if,  8i7-69.  Cassandra,  daughter  of  Ftiam,  was  wooed  by  Apollo.  Sb» 
promised  to  listen  to  his  suit,  if  he  would  grant  her  the  gift  of  prophecy. 
He  did  so,  but  she  refused  to  keep  her  word,  whereupon  the  god  laid  upon 
her  the  curse  that  her  prophecies  should  never  be  believed.    Cf.  Mrieid, 

II,  247 : 

Twnc  etiam  foHs  aperii  Cassandra  fvhtfis 
Ota  dci  jussu  non  unquam  credita  Tiuctis. 

'  Then  Cassandra  opened  her  lips  to  speak  the  doom  that  was  to  be, 
by  heaven's  command,  never  believed  by  the  Trojans.' 

Lonsdale  and  Lee's  translation. 
in,  iii,  84.  A  variant  of  the  proverb,  '  Ne  Hercules  qu4dem  adversus  duos' 
Guise  uses  it  later  on,  V,  iv,  34-5,  and  it  appears  in  the  Latin  form  in 
Aiphonsus  Emperor  of  Germany,  II,  iii,  86. 
m,  iv,  14-86.  These  lines  had  already  appeared  amouf  the  poems  added  to 
Chapman's  Petrarch's  Seven Pemtenttal  Psalms,  etc.  (ed.  x6t2,  p.  9s),  under 
the  beading,  Of  Great  Men,  For  some  reason  they  have  been  omitted  by 
Shepherd  m  his  edition  of  Chapman's  Poems,  1875.  The  adjectives 
applied  here  to  Achilles  may  perhaps  have  been  suggested  by  the  famous 
line  of  Horace — 

Impiger,  iracundus,  inexorabilis,  acer, 

Epist.  II,  iii,  zsi. 

in,  iv,  89.  For  disposing  these :  '  for  regulating  tbese  gifts  of  fame,  strength, 
noble  birth,  and  beauty.  These  is  used  loosely  to  qualify  the  nouus 
implied  by  the  adjectives  in  L  19.' — Boas,  Bussy,  p.  301. 


584        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

IIL  !▼•  W-U*    'Jitwrant  populi,  si  nonin  moru  probaris, 

An  scUris  adoersa  pati, 

-^Pharsalia,  VIII,  626-7. 

m  It,  40.    '  That  cmr  nature  ahrank  from  aoceptiog  it/ 

IIL  iVf  ii-7.  *  You  cannot  pursue  the  outward  care  of  things,  i.e.  the  care 
of  ezteiiial8»  without  neglecting  the  things  of  the  mind.' 

in,  !▼•  68-76.  As  Boas  has  pointed  out,  these  lines  are  an  elaboration  of  a 
passage  in  Epictetus,  Discourses,  IV,  vii,  6-1 1 .  They  had  already  appeared 
as  part  of  a  poem  headed,  Please  with  thy  Place,  appended  by  Chapman 
to  his  translation  of  Petrarch's  PemtenHal  Psalms  (p.  68,  edition  of  r6ra, 
not  reprinted  in  Poems), 

ni*  !▼•  06.  The  Earl  of  Oxford :  Edward  de  Vere,  seventeenth  Earl  of  Oxford 
(1550-1604),  a  famous  patron  in  his  day  of  art  and  letters.  He  maintained 
at  one  time  (1581)  a  company  of  actors,  and  was  himself  a  poet  of  con- 
siderable talent.  {See  Grosart,  Miscellanies  of  the  Fuller  Worthies  Library,) 
Lyly  dedicated  Euphues  and  his  England  to  him  in  a  highly  laudatory 
letter,  and  Spenser  addressed  to  him  one  of  the  Sonnets  prefixed  to  the 
Faerie  Queene.  I  know  of  no  special  reason  why  Chapman  should  have 
chosen  this  opportunity  to  panegyrize  the  deceased  EarL 

in,  iT»  M.  Didte  Casimer  :  John  Casimer,  Count  Palatine  (1543-92),  one 
of  the  chief  leaders  of  the  Protestant  cause  during  the  religious  wars  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  His  invasion  of  France  in  1575  brought  about 
the  '  Peace  of  Monsieur*.  It  must  'have  been  immediately  after  this  that 
Oxford,  who  returned  from  Italy  in  2576,  was  offered  the  oppcrtunity 
to  review  his  army. 

in,  i¥.  106-6.  Cast  it ,  .  ,  .  world :  rejected  it,  as  a  vain  honour,  in  order 
that  he  might  continue  to  serve  the  world.  So,  at  least,  I  understand 
the  passage. 

IIL  iv*  U&  A  Sir  John  Smith  :  probably  Sir  John  Smith  of  Little  Badow, 
XS34-X607.  Although  a  soldier  and  statesman  of  considerable  merit, 
he  was  unpopular  at  court,  and  Oxford  seems  here  to  refer  to  him  as  one 
of  the  baser  sort. 

in.  It,  114-6.  '  Desiring  such  slavish  attentions  as  if  the  final  cause  of  nobility 
consisted  In  them.' 

in,  It,  1S7.  Says  one:  Emctetus.  The  whole  passage,  IL  127-41,  is  a 
close  translation  of  the  Discourses,  IV,  x,  20-22. 

IIL  It,  186.  Twelve  rods :  the  twelve  fasces,  bundles  of  rods  bound  up  around 
an  axe,  were  the  mark  of  the  consul's  office  and  authority. 

m,  iT,  164.  Sit  for  the  whoU  tribunal :  the  original  Greek,  inl  fiUvM  moBCvtui, 
means  simply  to  sit  upon  the  bench  as  judge.  Chapman  seems  to  have 
been  misled  by  a  Latm  translation,  pro  tr^nali  siiere, 

in.  It,  168-0.  For  constancy  :  for  the  sake  of  being  constant  in  mind.  Chap* 
man's  rendering  of  the  passage  is  far  from  clear.  The  Latin  version, 
which  probably  lay  before  him,  has :  Ergo  pro  vacuitate  perturbationem, 
pro  constanHa,  pro  eo  ut  dormiens  dormias,  vigilans,  vigiles,  etc, 

m.  It,  168.  The  Lieutenant  is  Maillard.  Mr.  Boas  thinks  Clermont  is 
called  Colonel  here  because,  in  the  corresponding  passage  in  Grimeston, 
D'Auvergne  is  spoken  of  as  the  '  colonel '  of  the  '  companions '  about 
to  be  reviewed.  I  think  it  possible  also  that  Chapman  may  have  thought 
of  Clermont  as  holding  the  rank  of  colonel,  like  his  brother,  Bussy. 

IT,  I,  11-80.  This  account  of  Clermont's  desperate  struggle  is,  as  Mr.  Boas 
points  out,  invented  bv  Chapman.  D'Auvergne,  to  the  surprise  of  his 
captors,  suffered  himself  to  be  seized  without  resistance. 

IV,  1, 16.    Bore  himself :  stood  up,  equivalent  to  the  Latin  se  susHnere. 

I?,  I,  77.    Clermont  repeats  here  Maillard's  own  words  in  III,  ii,  239. 

IT,  I,  81-4.  This  is  another  of  the  many  details  borrowed  from  the  seixure  of 
D'Auvergne  (Grimeston,  p.  1048) : '  He  was  moved  to  see  himself  so  entreated 
by  laddes,  entreating  D  Eurre  to  cause  two  of  his  companions  to  light, 
and  that  he  might  not  see  those  rascals  any  more.  Nerestan  said  unto 
him  that  they  were  soldiers  so  attired  to  serve  the  King  in  this  action. 

IV,  1, 00.    Organ  of  his  danger : '  instrument  of  his  dangerous  designs '. — Boas. 


NOTES  585 

I?,  i*  109.  The  ifumpe^s:  the  trumpeter's  borse.  D'Auvergne  alter  his 
capture  was  mounted  on  the  trumpeter's  horse  and  conducted  to  a  neigh- 
bouring town. 

I?,  U  llO.  The  Countess  of  Cambrai  takes  the  place  in  this  play  d  a  lady 
whose  name  is  not  mentioned  in  Grimeston,  but  who^  he  says,  loved  and 
was  loved  by  D'Auver^e.  Clermont's  speech,  IL  130*24,  is  based  upon 
one  of  D'Auvergne's  m  Grimeston. 

!?•  i,  187-ff7.  These  lines  form,  with  a  few  verbal  difierenoes,  the  last  half 
of  the  poem,  PUase  with  thy  Place,  already  referred  to ;  see  note  on  III,  iv, 

I?,  ii,  U-4.    Cf.  Byron's  C<m$pwa€y,  III,  ii,  346 : 

Flatterers  looh  Uhe  frteHds,  as  wolves  Uhe  dogs, 

IV»  ii,  M.  This  line,  I  think,  refers  to  the  projects  mooted  in  the  Guiseaii 
party  for  deposing  Henry  III.  BaUgny  is,  of  course,  playing  in  this 
scene  the  rdle  of  a  partisan  of  Guise,  and  feigning  an  indignation  which 
he  does  not  feeL 

I?,  ii,  87.  The  Sidle  gulf :  Charybdis,  the  famous  whirlpool  in  the  Sicilian 
Straits. 

I?,  ill,  87.  GuOtlessfy  :  without  guUt  on  his  part.  Cf.  Udall,  Eras.  Par,  I 
Pet.  i-^t  2  Whom  the  raging  cruelty .  .  .  hath  guHtlesslv  driven  out,  etc. 

IV,  ill,  4ft.  '  The  lawless  precedents  set  by  kings  are  full  of  danger  to  the 
SUte.' 

I?,  iii,  00.    Him  ...  A^.*  the  King  •  .  .  Clermont. 

IV,  m,  70-8.  These  lines  are  taken  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston  (p. 
Z048) :  '  If  I  knew  {said  she),  that  I  inight  save  mm  in  forcing  through 
your  troop,  I  would  willingly  do  it,  and  if  I  had  but  ten  men  of  my  courage 
and  resolution.  3rott  should  not  carry  him  where  you  think.  But  I  will 
never  die  till  I  have  given  D'Eurre  a  hundred  shot  with  a  pistol,  and  to 
Murat  a  hundred  blows  with  a  sword.' 

I?,  ill,  78-0.    '  He  would  have  purchased  his  freedom  with  their  blood.' 

I?,  HI*  88.    Cf.  IHad  IX,  3x3-13: 

Lihe  HeU-mmth  I  loathe 
Who  holds  not  in  his  words  and  thoughts  one  undssHnguished  troth. 

Chapman's  lUad, 

I?,  ill,  87.    Ancilla:  i.e.  Riova,  the  Countess's  maid. 
IV,  in,  108.    '  If  she  had  given  him  these  jewels  before  I  would  have  been 
spared  the  charge  [i.e.  care]  of  keeping  watch  over  them.'    I  fancy  this 
line  may  be  a  comic '  gag '  inserted  in  the  text  for  stage  effect. 
IV,  iv,  8.    '  The  only  pretext  being  Clermont's  intimacy  with  me.' 
IV,  iv,  88.    Would  present  most  hard:  would  make  it  most  difficult. 
IV,  It,  48^    '  He  is  so  perfect  a  Stoic  after  the  model  of  Seneca  that  he  may 

be  compared  to  the  immortal  gods.' 
IV,  t?,  60-1.    Cf .  Homer  VIII,  266-72 : 

He  [Teucer]  siiU  fought  under  Ajaie'  shield  who  sometimes  held  it  byt        1 

And  then  he  looVd  his  object  out,  and  let  his  arrow  fly. 

And  whomsoever  in  (he  press  he  wounded,  him  he  slew. 

Then  under  AjoT^  sevenfold  shield  he  presently  withdrew. 

He  fared  lihe  an  unhappy  child  that  aoth  to  mother  run 

For  succour,  when  he  mows  full  weU  he  some  shrewd  turn  hath  done. 

Chapman's  Iliad. 

IV«  iv,  SI'S.  The  story  of  Cacus,  the  monstrous  son  of  Vulcan,  who  lived 
in  a  cave  on  Mt  Aventine,  is  told  by  Virgil,  £neid,  VIII,  190,  sea. ;  Ovid, 
Fasti,  I,  542  ssq. ;  and  Livy,  I,  7*  I  cannot  find  any  reference,  however, 
to  Cacus  cutting  his  thieveries  to  his  den*s  length.  Possibly  Chapman 
was  thinking  for  the  moment  of  Procrustes. 

W»  iv»  57-8.  '  It  were  better  for  a  man  to  be  buried  aUve  than  to  live  a  mere 
fool  of  state,  and  ruin  others  in  order  to  thrive  himself.'  BiUigny's  moral 
reflection  is  apparently  caused  by  the  collapse  of  his  plot  against  Clermont. 

IV,  ▼,  tt-ft.  These  four  Imes  occur  also  in  a  poem  added  to  Petrarch's  Psalms 
(i6z3),  headed  Of  Plenty  and  Freedom  in  Goodness,  It  is  not  included 
m  the  Poems, 


586        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

I?,  ▼,  M.    '  Spend  their  time  and  tfaomght  upon  those  verses.' 

IV.  ▼•  87.     Upr^  gti9p9ng  :  a  curious  phrase.    Perhaps  ^ra  should  interpret 

it  as  equivalent  to  *  complete  incapacity*. 
IV»  ▼,  6S.    '  To  ransom  you.' 

IV»  ▼•  79;    '  My  wrong  mounted  higher  than  any  man  could  expect.' 
I?,  ▼.  84-«i    Cfc  I,  i,  85-5. 

IV,  ▼«  118.  With  return  of  this :  i.e.  the  casket  of  jewels,  which  aermont  sends 
back  to  the  Countess  by  Aumale. 

IV>  ▼•  98-108b  Monsieur  died  in  1584.  There  is  no  prc^htcy  of  the  death 
of  Monsieur  and  Guise  in  Bussy  D'Ambois  xmless,  as  Mr.  Boas  suggests^ 
we  may  so  interpret  V,  iv,  76-^.  I  should  doubt  sueh  an  interpretation, 
and  fancy  that  Busby's  prediction  was  simply  imrented  for  this  passage. 

V,  U  1-88.  This  speech  is  modeHed  upon  such  Seneean  prologues  as  those 
of  Tkyesies  and  Ag/MumnoH,  The  first  line  echoes  a  phrase  from  the 
Senecan  MedsA,  I,  <>:  NocUs  tutsmae  chaos. 

V,  i,  8.  Chained  shot.  See  note  on  Bussy,  V,  i,  98.  Cf.  also  The  Duchess 
of  Maifi,  IV.  ii,  336-3'  t 

yowr  venfumee, 
Ldhe  ttfo  chained  bullets  atM  goes  arm  tn  arm,  . 

V,  i,  IS-El.  There  is  a  parallel  to  this  expression  of  Chapman's  dislike  of 
the  religious  differences  thefti  distractmg  Christendom  in  Caesar  and 
Pompey,  II,  i  38-41. 

V»  i,  87-8.  '  At  ttie  Barricades  tl.e.  on  the  day  of  the  Barricades,  May  10, 
1588]  this  voice  w^ais  heard :  '  It  is  no  longer  time  to  dally,  let  us  lead 
my  lonl  [i.e.  Guise]  to  Rheims.'    Grimeston,  p.  722. 

V,  i,  88.  The  cause  alihe :  the  same  cause,  i.e.  the  abnormal  activity  of  the 
imagining  powers  1.  43. 

V,  1,  85-8L  *  Advertisements  were  come  to  him  [Guise]  from  all  parts  both 
within  and  without  the  realm,  from  Rome,  Spain,  Lorraine,  aiid  Savoy, 
that  a  bloody  eatastrophe  would  dissolve  the  assembly  '  [i.e.  of  the  States- 
General  at  Bloiis].    Grimeston,  p.  733. 

V,  1.  88^  '  The  Archbishop  of  Lion,  attending  a  Cardinal's  hat  within  a 
few  days  from  Rome,  "  Retiring  yourself  from  the  Estates,"  said  he  [the 
,  Archbishop]  to  him  [Guise],  "  you  shall  bear  the  blame  to  have  abandoned 
France  in  so  important  an  occasion,  and  your  enemies,  making  their 
profit  of  your  absence,  will  soon  overthrow  all  that  which  you  have  with 
so  much  pain  effected  for  the  assurance  of  religion."  '  Grimeston,  p.  723. 

V,  i,  90.    By  death:  because  of  the  existence  of  death. 

V»  i,  3J8.    Cf.  I  41  of  this  scene. 

V,  i,  111.  Since  you  to  me  supply  it :  the  parenthesis  is  a  little  obscure,  but 
I  think  it  refers  back  to  love  G.  no),  and  the  whole  phrase  may  be  inter- 
preted :  '  Since  you  supply  a  brother's  love  to  me^. 

V,  i,  181-7.  A  difficult  passage.  We  may  paraphrase  it  as  follows  :  '  One 
can  hardly  believe — ^if  only  because  of  the  fact  that  a  man's  looks  are 
turned  toward  the  skies,  not  downwards  like  a  beast's — that  any  man 
could  partake  so  far  of  the  devil's  nature  as  to  esteem  good  worthless 
becaiise  of  the  vain  and  transitory  favour  of  a  king.' 

V,  i,  184-6.     Repeated  with  slight  change  from  IV,  ii,  17-8. 

Vf  ii  144-8.  Grimeston,  p.  1048,  says  that  D'Auvergne's  mistress  shed  so 
many  tears  for  his  capture  that  she  lost  the  sight  of  one  eye  for  a  time. 

V»  ii»  18^8(K  '  For  you  do  not  merely  neglect,  or  render  useless,  the  counsels 
that  you  allow  to  be  disclosed,  but  even  open  a  way  to  the  destruction 
of  your  own  hopes.' 

V»  ii*  88-9.    An  allusion  to  the  story  of  Tj^hon.    See  note  on  Bussy,  III, 

li»  X45-7. 

V,  iilt  88.    Cf.  Byron's  Tragedy,  IV,  ii,  89. 

V»  !▼•  8-8.  '  The  eve  before  Lis  death  the  Duke  himself  sitting  down  to  dinner 
found  a  scroll  under  his  napkin,  advertising  him  of  this  secret  ambush.* 
GsioBusa^Km,  p.  723.     Also  on  the  morning  of  hia  death  the  Duke  sent 


NOTES  587 

l>ack  to  his  rooms  for  a  handkerchief,  and  '  Pericart,  his  secretary  .  . 

ties  a  note  to  one  of  the  comers  thereof,  saying,  "  Come  forth  and  save 

yourself,  else  you  are  but  a  dead  man."  '    Grimeston,  p.  724.    As  Mr. 

Boas  points  out.  Chapman  has  combined  these  two  incidents. 
▼•  iT,  11.    My  slaoe  :  my  body  with  its  feass. 
y»  iT,  21*    He  will  not  dare :  on  the  warning  scroll  mentioned  above  Guise 

wrote  with  his  own  hand :  '  They  dare  not ',  and  threw  it  under  the  (able. 

Grimeston^  p.  723. 
f,  It,  84-4.    *  Does  the  proverb  say  "  Not  even  Hercules  can  match  two 

foes  "  ?    [See  note  on  III,  iii,  24,  above.]    Guise  wiU  encounter  two 

with  Hercules  to  aid  them.' 
V*  iT»  n~3.    Guise's  youngest  brother,  Louis,  better  known  as  Cardinal 

Guise,  was  arrested  at  the  same  time  that  his  brother  was  slain,  and  mur- 
dered shortly  afterwards  by  the  King's  order. 
▼,  i¥,  70.    Aumale's  entrance  is  not  specifically  indicated  in  the  text.    He 

is  one  of  the  others  in  the  stage  direction  after  1.  37. 
▼,  ▼,  »8-4.    Cf.  Bus$y,  V,  iv,  114^ 
T»  ▼•  €1-8.    *  I  resemble  the  Lapwing,  who,  fearing  her  young  ones  to  be 

destroyed  by  passengers,  flyeth  with  a  false  cry  far  from  their  nests,  making 

those  that  look  for  them,  seek  them  where  they  are  not.'    Lyly,  Epistle 

Dedicatory  to  Euphues  and  his  England.    This  trick  of  the  lapwing  is  a 

commonplace  in  Elizabethan  literature. 
▼,  ▼•  80.    At  all:  ^a  exclamation  in  gambling  at  dice,  used  when  a  player 

threw  for  all  the  stakes  on  the  table.    See  All  FoolSy  V,  ii,  86. 
▼•  ▼•  87.    Stich  in  his  hands  thvs :  cannot  Clermont  finish  M ontsuxry  ?    Cf . 

a  variant  of  the  same  phrase,  1.  95,  below. 
?,  ▼.  118-9.    Cf .  Ovid : 

Ossa  quietOj  precor,  tuia  requiesUte  in  urna, 
Et  sit  humus  cineri  non  onerosa  tuo, 

Amore&t  III,  ix,  67-8. 

y,  ▼,  119.  The  stage  'direction  following  this  line  probably  represents  an 
attempt  on  the  part  of  the  management  of  the  Whitefriars  theatre  to 
add  a  little  spectacular  divertissment  to  what  must  have  seemed  to  most 
of  the  audience  an  appallingly  heav^  play.  The  entrance  and  dance  of 
the  ghosts  certainly  serves  no  dramatic  purpose. 

▼,  ▼*  IM.  The  act.  This  may  mean  Clermont's  act,  this  just  revenge.  I  am 
inclined  to  believe,)  however,  that  it  refers  to  Guise's  act  in  murdering 
Coligny.  The  fact  of  the  Admiral's  ghost  appearing  hand  in  hand  with 
that  of  Guise  goes  to  show  that  the  former  now  condones  the  act.  This 
is  a  startling  paradox,  but  along  the  lines  of  Clermont's  speeches  in  II,  i, 
200-34. 

y,  V,  184-8.  This  seems  to  be  a  reminiscence  of  Phaedo,  81 ;  but  Plato 
is  there  speaking  only  of  the  souls  of  the  wicked,  '  dragged  down  by  the 
corporeal  element '.  These,  he  says,  '  pfowl  about  tombs  and  sepulchres, 
near  which  .  .  .  are  seen  certain  ghostly  apparitions  *.  Ct,  also  Cotnus, 
463  ssa. 

y«  ▼•  808.  Tamyra  apparently  thinks  of  her  own  head  as  crowned  with 
snakes  like  that  of  a  Fury,  or  spirit  of  revenge. 

y,  ▼,  818-7.  With  this  speech  compare  that  of  Caesar  over  the  body  of 
Cato,  Caesar  and  Pompey,  V,  ii,  179-85. 


TEXT  NOTES 

In  preparing  this  Play  for  the  press  I  have  made  use  of  the  only  contem- 
porary edition.  i.e.  the  quarto  of  1613,  which  I  designate  by  Q.,  of  the  Pearson 
reprint  (P.),  of  Shepherd's  edition  (S.),  and  of  Professor  Boas'  edition  m  the 
Belles  Lettres  Series  (Bo.).  I  have  noted  some  interesting  variations  between 
the  copy  of  Q.  in  the  Bodleian  (Bod.),  and  those  in  the  British  Museum  (B.M. ).  I 


588 


THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


shall  record  these  in  their  proper  places,  note  all  deviations  from  the  original 
text — except  in  spelling  and  punctuation — ^and  note  the  most  important 
emendations  proposed  but  not  accepted.  For  an  elaborate  study  of  the 
text  I  would  refer  to  my  article  in  Englische  Studim,  voL  39,  p.  70  $eq. 
In  the  Q.  the  play  is  divided  Into  acts»  but  not  into  scenes. 


Iv  i*  11.    Q.  dHes.    This  might  repre- 
sent the  modem  form  cUy*$,  but 
I  have  preferred  to  take  it  as 
plural. 
Mk    Q.    heanng.     Strict    syntax 
would  seem  to  demand  hear,  but 
Chapman's  syntax  is  far  from 
strict. 
90.  Q.  true,    I  have  ventured  the 
slight   change   to  Iruih,  which 
seems  to  me  necessary  to  make 
sense. 
74.  9*  *^  '^A    ^  evident  mis- 
pnnt     for     yourself,    probably 
due  to  the  foUowin^  my  lord, 
144.  The  stage  direction  after  this 
line  is  placed  in  Q.  in  the  right- 
hand  mar^  after  1.  1^5.    The 
name    Sousons    is    misprinted 
Foisson  in  Q. 
107.  Q.  as  tnere  no/  all,    S.  inserts 
at     before     all,    a     necessary 
emendation. 
814.    Q.  ingenuous:   see  note  on 

Btftssy,  III,  ii,  X07. 
8S7.  Q.    cast  my   cast  ward-robe. 
One  might  be  inclined  to  drop  the 
second  cast  as  a  printer's  error, 
if  the  sense  did  not  seem  to 
require  its  retention. 
86l^7.  WeU,  sir,    'twere,    etc,     S. 
carelessly  omits  the  name  of  the 
speaker,     Clermont,  before  this 
speech. 
868-9.  Q.  omits  the  name  of  the 
speaker,     Moris.,     before     this 
speech.    One  of  the  6.M.  copies 
(C.  34,  c.  6)  shows  this  correc- 
tion in  an  old  hand,  and  Bo.  has 
rightly  introduced  it  into  the 
text. 
878-84.  Q.  prints  this  i>assage  as 
nine  short  lines,  ending  King, 
tee,  safe,  better,  Rieht,  True,  too, 
upon  you  and  deedes.    This  is  a 
mere  matter  of  typography ;  the 
metre  requires  tne  arrangement 
in  the  text. 

Q.  you're.  S.  and  Bo.  print 
you  were.  This  is,  no  doubt^  the 
meaning,  but  to  expand  the  con- 
traction alters  the  metre  of  Q., 
which  shows  the  syncopated 
£rst-foot,  common  in  Chapman. 


888.  Q.  Moralists.  S.  corrects  to 
moralist,  an  emendation  justified 
by  the  fact  that  the  allusion  is 
not  to  the  Greek  moralists  in 
general,  but  to  Epictetus.  See 
note  ad.  loc. 

861.  Selling  of  his  wares:  Q.  en- 
closes these  words  in  a  paren* 
thesis.  If  this  be  taken  to  indi- 
cate the  coostruotion,  ikriftUy 
modifies  swearing.  Possibly  thb 
is  right,  but  I  have  found  the 
use  of  the  parenthesis  so  often 
plainly  wrong  in  old  copies  of 
Chapman,  that  I  have  preferred 
in  this  case  to  follow  Bo.  and 
take  thriftily  as  modifying  setting. 

879.  Q.  friend.  S.  emends  hroiher, 
a  correction  required  by  both 
metre  and  context.  The  allu* 
sion  is  to  Qermont's  brother, 
Bussy.  The  Q.  friend  is  probably 
due  to  an  officious  proof  reader, 
who  noticed  the  word,  brother 
applied  to  Baligny  in  1.  380,  and 
thought  that  the  phrase  slaine 
brother  was  wrong. 

I,  ii,  4.  Q.  humors,  an  evident  mis- 
print.   S.  emends  honour's. 

84.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  Bo.  notes  that  Q.  has 
Monsieur.  The  Bod.  copy, 
however,  has  Montsur.,  i.e.  Mont- 
surry.  In  U.  35,  62,  131,  136, 
and  in  stage  direction,  1.  138, 
it  has  Mont.,  elsewhere  Mons.^ 
evidently  a  misprint. 

88.  Bo.  notes  that  Q.  has  ifye.  But 
the  Bod.  copy  has  correctly  dry. 

100.  Q.  tis.  Bo.  expands  to  it  is, 
but  this  alters  the  metre,  which 
shows  syncopation  after  the 
caesura. 

116-8.  Q.  prints  as  three  lines 
ending  Lordship,  here,  I. 

188.  Q.  Ye'are.  I  do  not  thmk 
this  means  to  indicate  a  dis- 
syllabic pronunciation,  and 
have  followed  S.  in  printing 
Vare. 

184-6.  Q.  prints  as  four  lines  end- 
ing, this  challenge,  then,  murther 
murther,  off. 


NOTES 


589 


m. 


1I»  i*  80.    S.  omits  ai  in  order  to 
regularize  the  metre. 

25S.  After  journey  Bo.  puts  a 
question  mark.  This  is  not 
needed. 

877.  Q.  Exit  A  common  error  in 
old  texts  for  Exeunt. 
in*  i»  4B.  /  swear.  This  is  set  off  in 
Q.  by  commas,  and  S.  and  Bo. 
toUow.  But  this  punctuation 
is  evidently  wrong/as  to  touch, 
1.  49,  depends  upon  sweare. 

68-9.  In  6.  the  stage  directions 
which  fellow  these  lines  are 
placed  in  the  margin  after  the 
words  come  and  foote  respectively. 
Q.  prints,  1.  59  as  two  lines 
ending  cams  and  foote. 

108.  For  Exeunt  after  this  line 
Q.  has  Exit. 

ii,   18.  Q.  Rubers.    S.   emends 
rulers. 

Q.  he.  Deighton  (Old  Drama- 
tists, 1896)  suggests  she,  i.e. 
Athens,  but  this  does  not  seem 
to  me  probable. 

74.  Q.  you.    S.  emends  your, 

97-8.  Q.  prints  as  seven  short  lines 
ending  equall  ?  be,  viUaines  ? 
reason  ?  evermore.  Reason,  is. 
The  passage  may  be  variously 
arranged,  but  will  not  give 
normal  lines  in  any  arrangement. 

148.  Q.  be  armes.  S.  emends  by 
inserting  in  between  these  words. 

149.  Q.  drossie.  The  emendation 
drowsy  has  been  proposed,  but 
it  does  not  seem  necessary. 

188.  Q.  rnhpi'mts  A  cden. 

189-80.  Q.  misprints  Cler,  as  the 
speaker  of  these  Unes.  S.  cor- 
rects to  Ch.,  i.e.  Charlotte. 

176.  Q.  Exit  for  Exeunt. 

188.  Ran^d  in  battalia.  The  B.M. 
copies  omit  ran^d,  as  does  Bo., 
who  printed  from  them.  But  it 
appears  in  the  Bod.  copy,  and 
is  necessary  to  the  metre. 

868.  The  Q.  lacks  a  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 
in,  if,  67«  Q.  things  outward  care. 
Mr.  Brereton  suggests  things  out 
[i.e.  external]  worth  care. 

69.  Q.  men  then  that  are.  In  the 
origmal  from  which  this  line  is 
tal^n  (see  notes,  p.  584)  the  read- 
ing is  thai  be.  I  have  restored 
tfaja,  and  with  it  the  apparently 
intended  rh3rme. 

7L  Q.  i?  invert,  P.  misprints 
»*  invert. 


114.  Q.  as  the  end  .  .  .  were.  Bo. 
emends  as*t,  etc.  This  does  not 
seem  necessary. 

186.  Q.  Circean,  a  misprint,  or 
perhaps  a  mere  variant  of 
Circene, 

168.  The  B.M.  copies  have 
Lieutenant,  Colonel;  the  Bod. 
Lieutenant  Colonel.  Hence  S. 
prints  lieutenant^colonel,  while 
Bo.  follows  the  B.M.  copies. 
The  latter  is  probably  correct; 
see  note,  p.  584. 

166.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  Q.  has  Pediss,  i.e. 
Pedisequis ;  the  ss  denoting  the 
plural. 

IT,  1,  8.  After  this  line  Q.  has  merely 
Exit,  that  is  Exit  MaiUard, 
leaving,  presumably,  the  two 
soldiers  disguised  as  lackies  on 
the  stage.  If  we  follow  the  Q., 
as  previous  editors  do,  these 
soldiers,  are  now  approached  tnd 
addressed  by  Chaion.  But  it 
seems  impossible  that  these 
soldiers,  who  had  been  informed 
in  III,  iU,  of  aU  the  details  of 
the  plot,  should  here  in  11.  8-9 
profess  ignorance  of  it  to  the 
very  man  who  had  informed 
them.  I  think,  then,  that  we 
must  take  t  and  2,  the  numbers 
prefixed  to  the  speeches  in  these 
Unes  in  Q.,  as  indicating  two  fresh 
scddiers  who  enter  with  Chaion. 
I  have  modified  the  stage 
directions  accordingly. 

10.  After  this  line  Q.  has  Exit 
for  Exeunt. 

84.  This  line  was  accidentally 
dropped  in  P.  and  is  also  wanting 
in  S. 

44.  Q.  /  made  you  sport  yet,  but 
J  pray,  etc.  Bo.  punctuates 
sport.  Yet,  but!  pray,  etc.  This 
seems  to  me  an  unnecessary 
change. 

64.  QTw^  are.  Cf .  note  on  I,  ii, 
iM. 

(.  Q.  swome,  married  to  the 
pMique  good.  S.  rightlv  substi- 
tutes a  dash  for  the  full  stop  at 
the  end  of  this  line.  Bo.  reads 
swome  -  married,  and  has  the 
same  compound  word  in  1.  69, 
where  the  Bod.  copy  and  one 
of  the  B.M.  Qq.  (C.  12,  g,  6) 
have  swome  or  married,  metii- 
callyJBLa  better    reading.    The 


590 


THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


otber  B.M.  Q.  (C.  34,  c.  16)  snp- 
ports  Bo. '8  reading. 

79.  Q.  thy.  P.'s  th$n^  appears  to 
bo  an  error. 

104.  C£  h  i»  64 ;  ^ncis  may  be  a  mis 
print  for  arts, 
!▼•  iu,  6.    This  line  shows  a  variatioa 
in  the  Qq.    The  Bod.  and  C.  12 
g.  6  have  some  bracVs  in ;    C. 
34,  c.  16  reads  some  brack  in, 

20.  The  Bod.  Q.  and  C.  12,  g.  6 
have  the  correct  punctuation 
and  should;  expresse  it  all, 
C.  34,  c.  x6  spoils  the  passage  by 
punctuating  should  expresse,  etc, 

44-^6.   Q.  let  them  feare, 

Kings  Presidents,  etc. 
Bo.  deletes  the  comma  after 
fears.  It  seems  to  me  that  this 
coftfuses  the  passage.  I  have 
altered  the  comma  to  a  full  stop, 
to  which  it  is  often  equivalent. 
ly.  hr,  L  Q.  you*re,  an  evident  mis- 
print, corrected  by  S.,  tctyour, 

19,  Q,  the  lest[Le,  least]  persuasion. 
S.  wrongly  alters  to  best, 

61.  Q.    Caueusses;     Bo.    emends 
Cacusses. 
I?,   ▼,   U.  Q.   well.    The   context, 
especially  1.  Z2,  seems  to  show 
that  will  is  required. 

08.  Q.  uaufpe.  S.  needlessly  alters 
to  usutp'd. 

100.  Q.  Leads  to*th  Court,  S.  and 
Bo.  Leads  to  the  Court,  The 
expansion  is  not  necessary,  as 
we  may  scan  with  the  83mco- 
pated  nrst  foot.; 
V.  i,  89.  Q.  Ms  lead  (my  lord)  to 
Rsimes — an  interesting  exaii4>le 
of  the  improper  use  of  the  paren- 


thesis. The  souroe  of  this  line 
(see  note^  p.  586)  shows  that  hri 
IS  the  object  of  lead. 
?,  i,  fit.  Q.  of  Uhs  fictions.  Bo.  has 
emended  to  oft.  This  seems  to 
me  necessary. 
68.  Q.   Soccains.        Bo.   oocrects 

Lorrams. 
178.  Q.  Or,    S.  emends  On,  which 
the  ooatezt  seems  to  requke. 
V»  in*  8.  Q.   loo'd.        S.  expands, 
metris  causa,  to  lovsd. 
4.  Q.     hsr    vertuous    service.    S. 
rightly  deletes  vertuous  as  a  mis- 
take caused  by  the  presence  of 
vertuous  in  L  3. 
47-8.  Q.    prints    as    three    lines 
ending  Bussy,  embrace,  which. 
V«  iv,  48.  Q.  ts  a  roche.     P.  mis- 

Erints  as  for  is,  and  is  followed 
y  S. 
Vf  Tf  ».  Q*  opes.    B.  alters  to  opens, 
but  oere  as  elsewhere  the  line 
shows  the  syncopated  first  foot, 
and  requires  no  change. 

44.  Q.  braves.  Bo.  emends  braoos. 
I  venture  to  print  bravsr^s,  a 
word  found  in  Nash,  Greenes 
Menaphon  ( Arber*sedition,p.  x6). 

88  and  111.  Before  these  lines 
Q.  repeats  Mont,  as  the  q>eaker*s 
name. 

78-4.  Q.  prints  as  three  lines  end- 
ing conquest,  it  and  fortune. 

144.  Q.    accurst,  S.    oorrects 

accursed. 

801.  Q.  closes  the  line  with  brother. 
Bo.  completes  it  by  adding  nons. 

810-8.  Q.  assigns  this  speech  to 
Cler,  S.  correctly  gives  it  to 
Charlotts. 


THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF 

BYRON 

INTRODUCTION 

CHAPifAM's  double  tragedy,  The  Conspiracy  amd  Tragedy  of  Charles 
Duke  of  Byron,  is  the  second  in  date  of  his  tragedies  liiat  have  come 
down  to  us,  following  Bussy  D'Ambois  and  preceding  The  Revenge  of 
Bussy,  The  date  of  its  composition  may  be  established  within  com- 
paratively narrow  limits.  It  was  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Registers 
on  Jime  5, 1608,  and  published  in  the  same  3rear,  with  the  following  title- 
page  :  The  Conspiracie  And  Tragedie  of  Charles  Duke  of  Byron,  MsurshaU 
of  France.  Acted  lately  in  two  playes,  at  the  Black-Friers.  Written  by 
George  Chapman,  Printed  by  G.  Eld  tor  Thofnas  Thorppe,  and  are  to  be 
sold  at  the  Tygers  head  in  Paules  Churchyard,  1608.^  Its  depend- 
ence upon  Grimeston's  General  Inveniorie  of  the  History  of  France,*  a 
relation  discussed  below,  p.  594,  proves  that  Chapman  cannot  have 
begun  the  composition  of  h&  drEona  before  the  appearance  of  Ghmeston's 
work  in  1607.  It  is,  therefore,  evident  that  we  must  date  The  Con- 
spiracy and  Tr4tgedy  late  in  1607  or  early  in  1608,  not  in  1605  as  stated 
in  The  Dictionary  of  National  Biography  under  the  article  on  Chapman. 

An  interesting  contemporary  reference  to  the  play  enables  us  to  fix 
the  date  of  its  production  in  the  eady  Spring  of  1608.  This  is  the 
letter  of  the  French  Ambassador,  La  Boderie,  preserved  in  the  Biblio- 
th^qne  Nationale  (MS.  PR.  15984,  p.  240,  s$q.),  first  printed  in  a 
German  translation  by  F.  von.  Raumer  {Briefe  aus  Paris  zur  ErlaH- 
tetung  der  Geschichte,  etc.,  Leipzig,  183 1)  ullder  the  date  of  April  5, 
1608,'  and  retranslated  into  English  in  History  of  the  Sixteenth  and 
Seventeenth  Centuries  Illustrated  by  Original  Documents  (F.  von  Raumer, 
London,  1835)  with  the  misprint  of  1605  for  1608.  The  English 
translation,  pronounced  by  a  friend  who  has  compared  at  with  the 
original  despatch  to  be  substantially  accurate,  is  as  follows  :  '  April  8, 
1608,  I  caused  certain  players  to  be  forbid  from  acting  the  history  of 
the  Duke  of  Byron ;  when,  however,  they  saw  that  the  whole  Court 
had  left  the  town,  they  persisted  in  acting  it ;  nay,  they  brought  upon 
the  stage  the  Queen  of  France  and  Miademoiselle  de  Vcmeuil.  The 
former,  having  accosted  the  latter  with  very  hard  words,  gave  her  a 
box  on  the  ear.  At  my  suit  three  of  them  \t,e.  the  players]  were 
arrested,  but  the  principal  person,  the  author,  escaped '. 

^  The  title-page  of  Q9,  puUished  2625,  inserts  the  phrase  '  and 
other  publique  stages'  after  Black'Friers,  It  was  printed  by  N.  O.  for 
Thomas  Thorpe. 

*  Fint  pointed  pirt  by  Professor  Boas,  Athenaum,  Jan.  10,  Z903. 

'  The  date  in  the  M$.  appears  to  be  Apgl  0. '  , 

691 


592  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  no  such  scene  as  the  quarrel  here  described 
appears  in  The  Conspiracy  amd  Tragedy  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that 
the  reference  is  to  Chapman's  play.  The  D'Entragues  of  the  Tragedy 
is,  of  course,  the  De  Vemeuil  of  the  despatch,  and  there  are  two  evident 
allusions  to  the  quarrel  in  the  second  act  of  The  Tragedy  (II,  18-19, 
128-9).  It  is  evident  that  the  scene  which  gave  such  natural  ofienoe 
to  the  French  Ambassador  was  struck  out  by  the  censor,  probably 
Sir  George  Buck,  Deputy  Blaster  of  the  Revels,  before  he  gave  the 
necessary  license  for  printing.  A  spirited  protest  against  the  long 
delay  in  granting  this  license  occurs  in  the  collection  of  letters,  apparently 
by  Chapman,  discovered  by  Mr.  Dobell,^  and  in  the  dedication  prefixed 
to  the  plays  the  poet  speaks  bitterly  of  '  these  poor  dismembered 
poems '.  And,  indeed,  the  censor's  hand  fell  heavily  upon  these  plays. 
The  fourth  act  of  The  Conspiracy  was  practically  struck  out ;  all  that 
remains  is  a  dialogue  reporting  Byron's  visit  to  England  in  which  some 
fragments  of  the  original  speeches  appear.  The  close  of  the  first  and 
the  banning  of  the  second  act  of  The  Tragedy  were  also  expunged 
by  the  censor,  including  apparently  the  notorious  quarrel  scene.  In 
ail  probability  it  was  only  chapman's  favour  with  the  heir-apparent — 
he  was  at  this  time  '  sewer  in  ordinary  to  Prince  Henry ' — ^that  saved 
him  from  more  serious  punishment.  But  the  damage  inflicted  upon 
the  plays  was  irreparable.  When  they  were  reprinted  in  1625  the  poet 
either  could  not,  or  dared  not,  restore  the  excised  passages,  and  the 
wounds  made  by  the  censor's  hand  remain  unhealed  to-day.  It  is  a 
thousand  pities,  for  the  mtsmng  scenes  were  apparently  the  most 
effective  from  a  dramatic  point  of  view  in  the  whoto  work.  Ottie  would 
gladly  have  sacrificed  much  dramatic  rubbish  that  has  come  down  to 
us  to  have  seen  how  Chapman  treated  such  situations  as  Marie  de 
Medici  driving  her  husbancrs  mistress  from  the  stage  with  bitter  words 
and  blows,  or  Elizabeth  pointing  out  to  the  haughty  Ifershal  the 
blackening  heads  of  Essex  and  his  fellow-traitors.' 

The  great  noble,  whose  overweening  ambition  and  sudden  downfall 
Chapman  chose  as  the  subject  of  his  second  tragedy,  must  have  been 
much  better  known  to  an  EngUsh  audience  in  x6o8  than  either  the 
historical  Busay  D'Amboise  or  his  imaginary  brother,  Qennont.  Some 
<3i  Chapman's  hearers  had,  no  doubt,  served  with  him  or  under  him  in 
the  French  wars;  not  one  of  them  but  had  heard  of  his  splendid 
embassy  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  of  her  nc^ected  warning,  and  of  his 
tragic  death  within  the  year.  Charles  de  Gontant,  Baron  de  Biron,  was 
one  of  the  most  characteristic  tsrpes  produced  by  the  Wars  of  Rdigion. 
Bom  in  1562,  the  oldest  son  of  a  famous  soldier,  the  young  Charles  was 
bred  up  in  camps,  and,  it  would  seem,  to  the  end  of  his  life  conceived 
of  war,  civil  war  especiedly,  as  the  normal  and  necessary  condition  of  a 
soldier's  existence.  An  old  adversary  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  he  was, 
along  with  his  father,  one  of  the  first  to  recognise  him  as  King  after 
the  murder  of  Henry  III,  and  he  completely  won  his  master's  heart 
by  his  fiery  activity  and  reckless  daring.  He  fought  at  Arques,  Ivry, 
and  Fontaine  Frangaise,  took  part  in  the  sieges  of  Rouen  and  Ajniens, 
and  held  independent  commands  in  the  campaigns  of  Flanders  and  of 
Savoy.    Uniformly  successful  and  repeatedly  wounded,  his  victories 

*  Mated  in  the  Athenaum,  April  6,  looz. 

*  It  Is  not  ecrtain,  however,  that  sueh  a  soene  actuslly  oceozred  In  Chsp- 
man's  play.    See  my  note  on  Compiraey  IV,  i,  p.  607.  below. 


INTRODUCTION  1  593 

and  his  blood  were  repaid  by  a  profuse  shower  of  hononrs  and  rewards 
from  the  hand  of  the  grateful  King.  He  was  made  Adnural  and 
Marshal  of  France,  Duke  of  Biron,  and  Governor  of  Burgundy.  Bat 
no  accumulation  of  honours  could  satisfy  his  ambition^  and  from  ai| 
early  date  (1595)  he  seems  to  have  commenced  a  long  series  of  tntngues 
with  the  enemies  of  France  with  a  view  of  carving  out  for  himself  an 
independent  sovereignty  on  the  French  border.  Yet  with  a  reckless 
inconsistency  which  seems  to  have  been  an  underlying  trait  of  his 
character  he  was  always  ready  to  take  the  sword  against  those  with 
whom  he  was  plotting.  Thu3  in  the  campaign  of  1599-1600  he  took 
fort  after  fort  from  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  whose  daughter  he  was  under 
promise  to  marry,  and  with  whom  he  kept  up  a  treasonaUe 'correspon- 
dence during  the  entire  campaign.  Henry,  who  seems  to<  have  been 
perfectly  informed  of  his  intngues,  induced  him  shortly  after  this  war 
to  make  a  full  confession  and  ask  forgiveness,  but  the  King's  pardon 
was  no  sooner  given  than  the  restless  Biron  began  the  formation  ol 
a  new  plot,  looking  to  an  invasion  of  France  by  Spain  and  Savoy 
and  a  general  uprising  ol  all  the  discontented  elements  of  the  kingdom, 
Protestant  and  Catholic  alike.  The  plot  was  betrayed  by  an  agent, 
La  Fin,  and  Henry  made  a  last  efbrt  to  save  his  old  cooizade-in-arms 
by  summoning  him  into  his  presenoey  intimating  his  Imowledge  of  the 
plot,  and  insisting  upon  a  frank  and  full  confession  as  the  sole  condition 
of  a  second  pardon.  Biron,  however,  obstinately  closed  his  ears  to  the 
King's  persuasion.  He  was  ignorant  that  the  plot  had  been  betrayed, 
and  so  blinded  with  the  conceit  of  his  necessity  to  the  kingdom  as  to  thmk 
it  impossiUe  that  in.  the  worst  event  any  serious  pnnxshmeat  would 
be  inflicted  on  him.  When  Henry  found  that  he  could  not  bend  Biron, 
he  resolved  to  break  him  and  to  show  by  a  great  and  terrible  example 
that  the  days  of  the  turbulent,  self-seeking  and  treachecons  noUe,  a 
Constable  Bourbon,  or  a  Duke  of  Guise,  were  numbered  in  Fkanoft 
He  had  Biron  arrested^  tried,  and  sentenced  to  death.  He  lefnsed  to 
see  hkn  again,  or  to  listen  to  the  intercession  of  his  powerlnl  friends^ 
The  only  mitigation  of  the  sentence  that  he  accorded  was  that  the 
execution  might  take  place  in  private,  so  as  to  spare  his  did  comrade 
the  last  shame  of  perishing  as  a  criminal  under  the.  eyes  of  the  mob  ci 
Paris.  The  story  of  the  death  of  Biron,  as  told  by  contemporary 
chroniclers,  is  one  of  the  most  tragic  in  that  age  of  tragedies.  Self- 
confident  to  the  last,  the  wretched  man  had  treated  his  sentence  as  a 
mere  form  which  tht  King  would  not  dare  enforce.  Only  when 
commanded  to  prepare  for  instant  death  did  he  rcoilixe  the  fate  that 
had  overtaken  him;  he  then  sank  into  the  blackest  despair,  wasted 
his  few  remaining  hours  in  reproaches  and  vain  appeals  £or  pardon, 
and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  ministrations  of  the  priests  sent  to  prepare 
his  soul  for  death.  Led  to  the  scaffold,  he  insisted  on  proclaiming  hie 
innocence  to  the  guards,  threatened  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  the 
headsman,  and  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  persuaded  to  Imeel  that 
the  sentence  might  be  performed.  No  sooner  was  he  down  than  the 
executioner,  fearful  of  another  outbreak,  struck  off  fab  head  at  a  blow 
before  he  could  give  the  appointed. signaL  Few  stories  in  ancient  or 
modem  history  give  such  a  poignant  and  ineffaceable  impression  of  the 
Nemesis  that  attends  overweening  pride. 

The  details  of  Biron's  life,  particularly  c^  his  conspiracy  and  death, 
were  promptly  registered  by  the  historians  of  France,  Jean  de  Series, 
Pierre  Matthieu,  and  Palma  Cayet,  and  translated  into  English  by 

CD.W.  Q  Q 


594  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

Grimetton  in  his  General  Intfeniory.  Here  Chapman  foond  and 
fastened  at  once  upon  them  as  a  fitting  theme  for  a  great  tragic  poem. 
There  cannot  be  the  slightest  doubt  that  he  used  Grimeston  and  not 
the  French)  originals,  for  he  reproduces  at  times  the  very  words  of 
the  English'translator  with  a  closeness  that  reminds  us  of  Shakespeare's 
versification  of  long  passages  in  North's  translation  of  Plutarch.  Apart 
from  the  scenes  dealing  with  the  quarrel  and  reconciliation  between 
Henry's  wife  and  mistress  which  Chapman  probably  based  upon  con- 
temporary goesip-— no  trace  of  the  story  appears  either  in  Grimeston 
or  hu  French  originals — and  part  of  the  scene  narrating  Biron's  embassy 
to  England,^  Grimeston  was  Chapman's  sole  and  sufficient  source. 
But  however  closely  Chapman  at  times  follows  the  text  of  his  author, 
he  was  by*no  means  content  merely  to  dramatixe  Grimeston's  history. 
On  the  contrary  he  treated  his  source  with  considerable  freedom, 
omitting  details  that  he  could  not  fit  into  his  plan,  rearranging  the 
sequence  of  events  to  secure  dramatic  effectiveness,  and  expanding 
mere  hints  into  highly  wrought  passages  of  noble  poetry.' 

I  have  spoken  of  this  work  of  Chapman's  as  a  tragic  poem,  and, 
indeed,  if  we  are  to  do  justice  to  its  many  noble  qualities,  it  must  be 
Judged  as  a  dramatic  poem  rather  than  as  a  drama  proper.  It  is  Uttle 
less  than  amaring  to  observe  how  completdy  in  this  work  Chapman 
has  dispensed  wi&i  the  machinery  of  the  Senecan  tragedy  so  evident 
in  the  plays  of  Bussy  and  The  Revenge  that  precede  and  follow  it.  The 
motives  of  crime  and  revenge,  the  scenes  of  blood  and  torture,  the 
messenger  and  the  ghost,  all  are  wanting.  And  with  them  is  gone  much 
that  is  characteristic  of  EUzabethan  drama,  its  vigorous  and  bustling 
action,  its  delight  in  scenes  of  physical  or  psychical  struggle,  its 
frequent  surprises  and  sharp  contxasts.  Nor  is  it  possible,  I  think,  to 
»i^tnf<iiTi  that  in  discarding  these  Chapman  was  anticipating  the  psycho- 
logical drama  of  a  later  age  where,  in  the  words  of  a  French  critic  on 
Browninff,  the  stage  is  the  soul  and  the  actors  are  the  passions  them- 
selves. M.  Jusserand,  it  is  true,  in  a  highly  appreciative  notice  of 
the  Byron  plays*  extols  the  scene  in  which  Savoy  disgusts  the  King  by 
his  eocoessive  praise  of  Byron  as  the  work  '  d'un  psychologns  et  d'um 
ma$$re  dramaturge ',  But  the  design  of  this  scene  is  taken  direct  from 
Chapman's  source,^  and  the  execution,  with  its  epic  narratives  of 
batties  and  its  patriotic  comparisons  of  Byron  to  a  pair  of  English 
•oldien,  does  not  seem  to  me  remarkable  either  for  its  psychology  or 
its  dramatic  sense.  And  there  are  at  least  two  scenes  in  these  plays 
where  Chapman  has  wilfully  or  blindly  thrown  away  the  opportunity 
to  depict  an  inner  struggle  sudi  as  the  situation  would  seem  inevitably 
to  suggest.  The  first  of  these  is  in  the  Conspiracy,  V,  ii,  where  Byron» 
overcome  by  the  King's  moderation  and  generosity,  kneels  to  him  for 
pardon ;  the  second  in  the  Tragedy,  I,  U,  where  B3rion  resumes  his 
treacherous  intrigues.  One  cannot  but  feel  how  Shakespeare  would 
have  fastened  on  such  situations  and  revealed  with  unerring  power  the 
conflict  of  emotions  in  the  heart  of  the  proud  duke  before  he  could  stoop 
to  b0g  foxgiveness,  or,  supposing  his  repentance  sincere,  as  I  think  it 

>  See  note  on  the  Conspiracy  IV,  p.  6o7* 

s  It  is  unnecessary  to  give  examines  here,  as  Chapman's  deviations  from 
Grimeston,  as  well  as  his  verbal  borrowings,  are  pointed  out  in  detail  in  the 
noteL  see  especially  pp.  600,  6oz.  602,  603,  607,  609,  etc 

*  Sistoire  LUUratre  du  Peuple  Angkus,  tome  2,  pp.  823,  seq* 

*  See  note  on  Conspiracy  II,  ii,  58-61. 


INTRODUCTION  595 

fi  meant  to  be,  the  almost  fiercer  straggle  before  he  could  once  more 
break  away  from  his  noble  master.  But  Chapman  has  not  even 
attempted  such  a  revelation.  In  the  first  scene  his  interest  is  oon- 
centrated  entirely  upon  the  long  oration  of  the  King  which  alone 
separates  "Byroas  ontborst  of  wrath  from  his  acknowledgment  of 
repentance ;  in  the  second  there  is  no  reference  to  the  King's  pardon, 
and  Byron  advances  motives  for  his  revolt  which  woold  have  had  as 
mnch  weight  at  the  beginning  of  the  play  as  they  have  here.  Nothing, 
it  seems  to  me,  could  be  less  dramatic  than  this  beginning  of  the  action 
practically  de  novo  in  the  very  middle  of  the  work. 

Swinburne  has  called  these  two  plays  '  a  small  epic  in  ten  books ', 
and  it  is  impossible  to  read  them  carefully  without  being  repeatedly 
struck  by  thai  epic  qualities.  They  have  the  epic  breadth  of  treat- 
ment, the  slow  equable  movement  of  the  epic,  flowing  like  a  river,  to 
use  a  favourite  simile  of  Chapman's,  and  gathering  tribute  as  it  goes, 
until  it  loses  itself  in  tiie  sea.  They  contain  long  epic  narrations  of 
past  events,*  epic  digressions  or  episodes,  such  as  the  scene  in  the  house 
of  ^e  astrologer,  or  the  qo^^rrel  and  reconciliation  between  Henry's 
Queen  and  his  mistress.  The  lack  of  characterization  in  the  minor 
parts  is  noticeable  even  for  Chapman.  Apart  from  Henry  and  Byron 
himself  we  have  no  such  figures  as  Monsieur,  Montsurry,  or  the  Guise ; 
the  numerous  characters  who  crowd  the  pages  of  these  plays  serve  to 
give  background  and  historic  realism  to  the  story,  but  they  have  no 
individuality  of  their  own.  They  are  like  certain  of  the  companions 
of  JEneaa,  too  weak  to  bear  even  the  weight  of  a  distinguishing 
epithet — forUmqus  Cyan  fortemque  Cloanihum, 

We  have  on  the  other  hand  very  careful,  and,  on  the  whole,  very 
consistent  characterization,  in  the  two  great  figures  of  the  King  and 
the  Duke.  Yet  even  here  the  characterization  is  hardly  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word  dramatic.  It  is  effected  much  more  by  speeches 
than  by  action,  of  which  there  is  singularly  little  in  these  plays.  It  is 
static,  not  Idnetic ;  there  is  no  evolution  of  character.  Byron  belongs 
rather  to  the  class  of  Tamberlaine  and  Richard  III  than  to  that  of 
l^beth  or  Coriolanus ;  and  Henry  remains  the  same  from  his  first 
word  to  his  last.  Their  characters  are  placed  before  us  at  once,  and 
by  '  a  few  broad  strong  strokes  often  repeated  ',  to  borrow  Swinburne's 
apt  phrase,  the  outlines  are  deepened  and  strengthened  until  the 
impression  is  ineffaceable.  Both  characters  are  drawn  on  the  heroic 
scale  with  but  little  attention  to  realistic  portraiture.  There  are,  to 
be  sure,  a  number  of  realistic  touches  in  each  character,  taken  over 
in  each  case  from  the  sources,  and  giving,  perhaps  purposely,  a  certain 
vraisemblance  to  the  portraits.  Thus  we  have  references  to  Henry's 
grey  beard,  to  his  love  of  tennis,  to  his  persistent  passion  for  amorous 
intrigues  in  the  midst  of  war  and  politics.  We  have  allusions  to  Byron's 
iron  endurance  of  hardships,  to  his  headlong  bravery,  to  his  scorn  of 
women,  and  to  his  superstitious  belief  in  omens,  wizards,  and  astrology. 
But»  after  all,  these  are  minor  touches,  and  it  is  plain  that  Chapman's 
purpose  was  not  to  create  life-like  portraits  of  two  contemporary 
characters,  but  to  embody  in  two  heroic  and  almost  superhuman  figures 
two  supremdy  interesting  types  which  he  saw  in  the  world  about  him. 

Henry  is  the  type  of  the  New  Monarchy  which  rose  out  of  the  ruin  of 

*  Such  as  the  accounts  of  Ivry  and  Fontaine  Fran^aise  in  the  Conspiracy 


596  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

the  Renaissance  in  the  anarchy  of  the  Wars  o£  "ReligpiQa,  a  monaxcfay! 
national  in  origin,  absolute  by  principle.  But  he  is  something  more 
than  a  meie  representative  of  the  New  Monarchy,  he  is  the  ideal 
monarch,  as  Chapman  conceived  him,  the  Patriot  King.  The  tbrone 
which  he  has  won  by  long  3rears  of  toil  and  bloodshed  he  regards  as 
something  more  than  a  mere  individual  possession.  It  is,,  indeed,  his 
by  divine  right,  but  only  as  a  sacred  trust.  He  rules  his  peof^  as  an 
absolute  monarch,  but  for  their  good,  not  for  his  own  interest ; 

Though  I  am  grown,  by  right  of  birth  and  arms. 
Into  a  greater  kingdom,  I  will  spread 
With  no  more  shade  than  may  admit  that  kingdom 
Her  proper,  natural,  and  wonted  fruits, 

he  tells  La  Fin  in  the  first  words  he  utters.  .  There  may  seem  to  lie  in 
these  w<^s  the  assertion  that  the  throne  is  his  by  right  of  birth  and 
conquest,  but  this  single  expression  cannot  be  weighed  against  his 
repeated  acknowledgments  throughout  the  two  plays  that  the  throne 
his  come  to  him  from  God,  '  the  sacred  power  '  that  enabled  him  in 
the  first  place  to  confront  the  arms  of  '  a  King  far  his  superior  \^  the 
'  angel '  that  helped  him  in  later  years  to  calm  and  settle  the  '  turbulent 
sea  of  civic  hates '.'  The  sword  of  justice  which  he  puts  into  the  hand 
of  the  infant  Dauphin  is  a  '  religious  sword  '.  In  the  conflict  between 
himself  and  his  traitorous  subject  he  relies  confidently  upon  Divine  sup- 
port, and  his  earnest  prayer  for  Divine  guidance  at  the  crisis  of  Byron's 
fate^  is  a  full  confession  of  the  solemn  responsibility  of  the  King  to 
God.  This  prayer,  for  which  Chapman  found  not  the  slightest  sug- 
gestion in  his  sources,  is  not  only  dramatically  appropriate  to  the 
situation  and  the  speaJcer,  but  contains  the  poet's  noblest  expression 
of  his  conception  of  Hie  cares  and  duties  that  attend  a  King.  As  such 
it  is  well  worthy  of  comparison  with  the  more  famous  soliloquy  of 
Henry  V  before  Agincourt,  and  here,  at  least,  in  depth  of  thought  and 
solemn  gravity  of  expression  Chapman  seems  to  me  in  no  way  inf^ior 
to  Shakespeare. 

Like  Henry,  Bjnron  is  a  heightened  and  idealized  representative  of 
his  class,  the  great  warrior  noble  of  the  Renaissance.  Of  this  class  he 
possesses  in  a  marked  degree  certain  highly  characteristic  virtue 
reckless  valour,  fiery  energy,  the  happy  gift  of  making  and  of  retaining 
devoted  friends.  But  the  qualities  which  make  him  a  type  of  his  age 
and  class  go  deeper  than  these.  He  is  the  incarnation  of  the  Renais- 
sance spirit  of  boundless  aspiration  to  which  Marlowe  gave  in  English 
poetry  at  once  the  first  and  the  most  perfect  expression  in  the  well-known 
speech  of  Tamberlaine — 

Nature  that  formed  us  of  four  elements. 
Warring  within  our  breasts  for  regiment. 
Doth  teach  us  all  to  have  aspiring  minds* 

And  with  this  unbounded  aspiration  he  embodies  its  invariable  con- 
comitant, the  intense  and  self-centred  individualism  of  the  Renaissance. 
This  union  finds,  I  think,  its  complete  expression  in  a  passage  which 
repeated  quotation  has  made  perhaps  the  most  familiar  in  Chapman 

1  The  Tragedy  I.  i,  99-107.    The  reference  is,  I  think,  to  Henry  III  of  France. 
•  The  Tragedy  1,  i,  1 15-120. 
»  The  Tragedy  IV,  ii,  63-85. 


INTRODUCTION  597 

tihe  passage  in  whldi  Byrda  defies  the  fate  predicted  by  his  stars, 
and  detenniiies  to  press  on  to  his  goal  regardless  of  danger  or  restraining 
lati**— 

Be  ff9e,  tdl  worthy  sfitiis. 
And  stretch  yourselves  for  greatness  and  for  height, 
Untruss  your  slaveries  ;  you  have  height  enough  ' 
Beneath  this  steep  heaven  to  use  all  your  reoMes ; 
.  'Tis  too  far  off  to  let  you,  or  respect  you,  ' 

Give  me  a  spirit  that  on  this  lif^s  rough  sea 
Loves  f  have  his  sails  fiWd  with  a  lusJy  wind, 
Even  HU  his  sail-yards  tremble,  his  masts  crack. 
And  his  rapt  ship  run  on  her  side  so  low 
That  she  drinks  water,  and  her  keel  plows  air. 
There  is  no  danger  to  a  man  that  knows 
What  life  and  death  is ;  there's  not  any  law 
Exceeds  his  knowledge  ;  neither  is  it  lawful 
That  he  should  stoop  to  any  other  law. 
Be  goes  before  them  and  commands  them  aU.^ 

'  These  are  lines  that  Marlowe  might  have  written,  and  they  reveal  a 
spirit  such  as  Marlowe  loved  ;  but  Chapman,  an  older  and  wiser  man 
than  Marlowe,  saw  behind  tiiese  lofty  qualities  of  aspiration  and  self- 
reliance  the  fatal  germs  of  selfish  ambition  and  blind  self-confidence 
that  poisoned  and  perverted  them,  and  in  the  end  brought  Byron, 
and  not  Byron  only,  but  so  many  of  the  class  of  which  he  stands  as  a 
representative,  to  irretrievable  ruin.  Chapman  was  by  no  means 
blind  to  Byron's  merits  ;  he  exaggerates  them,  indeed,  when  he  speaks 
of  him  in  the  Prologue  to  these  plays  as  the  saviour  of  France.  But 
he  realized  that  great  as  were  Byron's  merits  in  the  past,  they  were 
rendered  mentless  by  his  egoism,  and  were  exhausted  by  the  unbounded 
claims  he  based  upon  them  for  the  future.  Byron  has  not  served  his 
country  for  love  of  his  country,  nor  even  out  of  loyalty  to  his  King,  but 
simply  for  himself,  and  because  he  has  served  his  country  he  daims 
the  nght  to  ruin  her — 

/,  who  through  ail  the  dangers  that  can  siege 
The  life  of  man  have  forc'a  my  glorious  way 
To  the  repairing  of  my  country's  ruinst 
Will  ruin  it  again  to  re^advance  it.* 

From  the  moment  that  the  c(tesation  of  foreign  war  left  two  such 
characters,  two  such  opposing  principles  we  might  almost  call  them, 
as  Byron  and  IJenry  face  to  face,  their  conflict  was  inevitable  and  the 
issue  Of  that  conflict  certain.  For  nothing  is  more  striking  in  the 
tragedy  of  Byron  (as  in  the  story  of  Essex  of  which  Chapman  must  have 
been  reminded  at  every  turn)  than  the  overweening  self-confidence, 
drunken  and  blinded  with  conceit  of  his  own  importance,  with  which  he 
matched  his  own  personality  against  a  monarch  who  represented  in 
France,  as  Elizabeth  in  England,  a  united  and  lojral  nation.  Against 
such  a  rock  the  wave  of  Byron's  revolt  was  fore-ordained  to  break  in 
idle  foam.  It  is  the  hero's  blindness  to  this  predestined  issue  that 
constitutes  for  Chapman  the  tragedy  of  his  fall.  It  is,  perhaps,  too 
much  to  say  that  in  his  relation  of  the  conflict  Chapman's  head  is  for 
Henry  while  his  heart  is  with  Byron ;  but  it  is  certainly  true  that 
from  the  climax  of  the  tragedy  at  the  moment  of  Byron's  arrest  the 

*  The  Conspiracy  III,  ill,  Z30-X44*  *  The  Tragedy  I,  ii,  33-35- 


598  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

King  drops  out  of  the  foreground  and  aU  our  interest  is  centred  oo 
the  ruined  noble.  In  the  last  act  Chapman  borrows  every  telling 
touch  from  the  vivid  contemporary  narratives  of  Biron's  imprisonmeat 
and  death,  and  strains  all  his  own  powers  of  tragic  and  sonofoos 
verse  to  heighten  and  intensify  the  pathos  of  his  fate.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  the  historic  Biron  moves^fperhaps,  less  pity  than  any  other  of  the 
noble  traitors  of  his  age,  Guise,  Essex,  Raleiglu  or  Wallenstein,  but  in 
reading  Chapman's  play  we  foreet  history  and  look  on  Byron's 
death  not  as  the  just  punishment  tor  his  treason,  but  rather  as  a  tragic 
example  of  the  extinction  of  a  noble,  if  rebellious,  spirit  in  the  grip  of 
inexorable  law. 

And  here  we  touch  at  last  upon  the  note  that  the  Byron  plays  have 
in  common  with  Chapman's  other  tragedies  to  which  they  present,  as 
I  have  already  shown,  so  many  points  of  difference.  Chapman's 
tragedies  are  not  tragedies  of  Fate  like  those  of  the  Greek  drama,  nor 
tragedies  of  character  like  those  of  Shakespeare.  We  might  indeed 
interpret  the  Byron  plays  if  they  stood  alone  in  this  latter  sense,  but 
when  considered  along  with  their  congeners  they  show,  I  think,  what 
Bussy  and  the  Revenge  of  Bussy  show  even  more  plainly,  that  the  peculiar 
tragic  theme  of  Chapman  is  the  conflict  of  the  individual  with  his 
environment  and  the  inevitable  issue  of  that  conflict  in  the  individual's 
defeat.  In  the  Bussy  plays  this  conflict  is  more  special,  the  conflict  of 
a  definite  individual,  Bussy,  or  Clermont,'with  his  peculiar  enviromnent. 
In  the  Bjrron  plays,  owing  to  the  typical  character  of  the  two  main 
figures,  it  is  more  general,  and  we  nave  the  conflict  of  two  opposing 
principles,  those  of  individual  liberty  and  social  order.  Writing  as  he 
did  at  a  time  when  the  high  tide  of  the  Renaissance  was  ebbing  fast 
away,  it  was  impossible  for  a  writer  so  deeply  interested  in  contemporary 
affairs  as  Chapman  not  to  note  the  rise  of  a  new  principle.  The  era  of 
liberty,  verging  u^n  license,  in  the  realms  of  the  intdlect,  of  society, 
and  politics,  was  yielding  to  the  age  of  dogma,  convention,  and  absolute 
monarchy.  Wherever  representatives  of  these  two  ages  met,  wherever 
such  types  as  Byron  and  Henry  found  themselves  opposed,  a  tragic 
conflict  was  inevitable ;  and  while  Chapman  was  philosopher  enou^ 
to  predict  the  victory  of  the  new,  he  was  too  much  the  potct  and  child 
of  the  Renaissance  not  to  lament  the  downfall  of  the  cud.  And  it  is 
for  this  reason,  the  profound  personal  sympathy  of  the  poet  with  the 
problem  that  confronts  him,  that  we  find  the  conflict  between  the 
individual  and  his  environment  handled  nowhere  else  in  Chapman's 
work  with  such  epic  majesty  nor  the  tragic  issue  bewailed  with  such 
elegiac  pathos  as  in  The  Conspiracy  and  Tragedy  of  Charles  Duke  of 
Byron, 


<  '  » 


BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY 

.'/•  *  NOTES 

DedioatfOB.'  Sir  Thomas  Walsingham  (X568-Z630)  was  a  weH-known 
courtier  and  patron  of  letters  in  Chapman's  day.  mi  wile  was  a  ladr  of  th« 
bed-chamber  to  Queen  Elizabeth  and  a  favourite  at  the  Court  of  James  I. 
Chapman  dedicated  to  her  his  continuation  of  Hero  and  Leander,  in  which  he 
speaks  of  her  husband's  '  ancient  kindness '  to  him.  Walsingham  appears  to 
have  been  also  the  friend  and  patr6n  of  Marlowe,  for  the  publisher  of  Hero  and 
Leander  in  dedicating  this  poem  to  Sir  Thomas  speaks  of  the  '  many  kind 
favours '  he  had  bestowed  on  Marlowe  during  his  lifetime.  His  son,  a  ptB^ 
codous  youth  of  eight  years  at  the  date  of  Chapman's  dedfca'don  of  these 
plays,  seems  to  have  been  on  the  point  of  entering  one  of  the  universities ;  he 
was  knighted  at  thirteen,  became  a  member  of  Parliament  at  fourteen  and 
married  at  fifteen.  He  lived  till  1669  and  seems  to  have  been  especially 
remarkable  for  his  shameless  double-dealing  with  King  and  Parliament  during 
the  Civil  Wars. 

This  dedication,  no  doubt,  suggested  to  Collier  the  name  of  the  patron  of 
Chapman's  to  whom  he  forged  the  poetical  dedication  of  ^i4U  Fools,  which  he 
published  in  1825,  professing  to  have  found  it  in  a  unique  copy  of  this  play. 
The  first  lines  of  the  dedication  of  the  Byron  plays,  however,  seem  plainly  to 
show  that  he  had  not  previously  dedicated  any  work  to  Sir  Thomas. 

These  poor  dismembered  poems  :  referring  to  the  mutilation  of  these  plays 
by  the  censor  before  a  license  to  print  could  be  obtained.  See  the  Inirodnkion, 
p.  59«« 

Frolofiis.    II.  ia-i5*    The  simile  is  drawn  from  Homer,  Iliad,  V,  5-6 : 

Like  rich  AiUumnus*  golden  lamp,  whose  brightness  men  ad$nire 
Past  all  the  host  of  other  stairs,  when,  with  his  cheerful  face 
Fresh  wasVd  in  lofty  Ocean  waves,  he  doth  the  shies  enchase* 

Chapman's  Hiad* 

Compare  also  a  passage  in  Bussy,  II,  1,  omitted  in  the  second  quarto*  but 
printed  here  on  p.  564,  beginning 

Sec  how  it  runs,  most  like  a  turbulent  sea. 

1. 19.  The  fair  ihAdei  of  himiell :  Brereton  {loc.  cii.,  p.  60)  interprets  '  the 
images  of  himself  invested  with  royal  dignity '. 

D1U.MATI8  Pbhsonac 

Albert*  Arohdiike  of  Ansirla  (155971621),  son  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian  11. 
and  son-in-law  of  Philip  Hi  ot  Spain,  who  gave  him  his  daughter  Isabella  in 
marriage  and  made  him  ruler  of  the  Low  Countries.  He  carried  on  war  against 
Henry  IV  till  the  Peace  of  Vervins  in  1598. 

The  Duke  of  fltTey,  Charles  Emmanuel  (1562-1630),  son  of  Phillbcrt  of 
Savoy  and  son-in-law  of  Philip  of  Spain,  whose  daughter  Catherine  he  mar- 
ried. He  took  part  in  the  Wars  of  Religion  in  France,  ostensibly  to  support 
the  Catholic  cause,  but  in  reality  for  his  own  aggrandizement.  He  seised  the 
Marquisate  of  Saluoes  (Salusso)  which  had  been  incorporated  with  Ftanoe 
by  Charles  IX.    Henry  IV  insisted  opon  its  restoration,  and  the  Duke  oame 

>  See  Athenaum  Tune  27,  1908. 
S99 


6oo  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

in  person  to  Paris  to  negotiate  terms  by  which  he  might  be  allowed  to  keep  it. 
It  IS  upon  this  visit  that  he  appears  in  the  play. 

O'Anfifpit^  Charles  de  Valois,  a  natural  son  of  Charles  IX  by  Marie  Toachet, 
and  halif-brother  by  the  mother's  side  of  Henriette  D'Entragues,  mistress  of 
Henry  IV.  He  was  created  Duke  of  Auvergne  in  1589,  was  involved  in  the 
conspiracy  of  Biron,  and  though  pardoned  was  soon  again  engaged  in  plots 
against  the  king.  The  story  of  his  arrest  by  order  of  Henry  IV  furnished 
Chapman  with  materials  for  the  episode  of  the  seizure  ol  Clermont  in  the 
Rfvmge  of  Busty  (see  the  Introduction  to  that  play,  p.  572}. 

VemooKIt  Henry  of  Savoy,  Duke  of  Nemours,  a  oousm  of  the  Duke  of 
Savoy.  He  joined  the  League  and  fought  against  Henry  IV,  but  was  recon- 
ciled to  him  m  1596. 

IqjMQMt  Chartes  de  Bourbon,  Count  of  Soissoos,  a  cousin  of  Henry  IV.  He 
appears  as  one  of  the  characters  in  The  Rm^nge  of  Bussy,  but  has  no  speech 
assMned  him  in  that  play. 

IrAinMnt,  I  cannot  identify  this  character  s  perhaps  the  son  of  Marshal 
lyAomont*  ob,  Z595> 

IMquI*  Charles^  Marquis  of  Cr6qui,  and  Marshal  of  France,  a  distinguished 
•oldier  in  the  wars  of  Henry  IV.  He  accompanied  Biron  on  his  embassy  to 
England. 

1!|r-***ti  Jean  Louis  de  Ncearet,  Duke  of  Epernon,  one  of  the  most  powerful 
of  Fraoch  noblemen  under  Henry  III  and  Henry  IV.  He  was  one  of  the 
'ninioiis'  d  Henry  III,  refused  at  first  to  recognize  Henry  IV,  but  was 
reconciled  to  him  in  zs^,  and  was  seated  by  him  in  the  royal  ooaoh  when  he 
was  stabbed  by  Ravaillac.  Chapman  introduces  him  in  The  Revenge  of 
JBussy  as  wdl  as  in  the  Byron  plays. 

Baliilfrab  Pomponne  de  BeUidvre,  Chancellor  of  France  from  1599  to  z6o7t 
p]eaip<}tentiary  at  the  Congress  of  Vervins,  and  ambassador  to  Brussels  aloog 
With  Biron.    Later  he  presided  at  Biron's  trial. 

Brabtfii  Nicolas  Brulart,  Marquis  of  SiUery,  associated  with  Bellidvre  at 
Vervins  and  Brussels. 

D^ Amulet  the  Duke  D'Aumale,  an  old  leader  of  the  League,  and  one  of 
the  bitterest  enemies  <^  Henry  IV.  He  was  at  this  time,  1599,  an  exile  at 
Brussels. 

OrMgt^  Philip  William,  the  ddest  son  of  William  the  Silent,  who  was  seised 
by  Alva  m  1567  and  brought  up  at  the  Spanish  Court.  He  returned  to  the 
Low  Countries  in  the  train  of  Archduke  Albert  in  Z5j96. 

*flff*^f**,  Pierre  Ernest,  Count  of  Mansfield,  a  German  soldier  of  great 
distinction  in  the  wars  of  Charles  V  and  Philip  II.  He  was  temporary 
governor  ol  the  Low  Countries  after  the  death  of  Parma. 

Vitry*  Louis  de  L'Hospital,  Marouis  of  Vitry,  originally  a  follower  of  Alen9on, 
the  '  Monsieur '  of  Bussy  and  01  The  Reoenee  of  Bussy.  later  a  prominent 
member  of  the  League.  He  joined  Henry  IV  after  the  latter's  abjuration  of 
Protestantism,  and  was  made  captain  of  the  King's  guards  in  1593.  He  ar- 
rested Biron  at  Fontahibleau  in  1602. 

Yaoiti,  Pierre  Janin,  or  Jeannln,  a  dose  friend  and  councillor  of  Henry  IV 
alter  his  abjuration.  He  took  an  important  part  in  drawing  up  the  Edict  of 
Nantes.  Henry  used  him  as  a  messenger  to  mduce  Biron  to  come  to  Court 
jnst  before  his  arrest. 

lA  Brone :  Chapman  got  this  name  from  Grimeston  (p.  993). 

I»  ^  80.    My  broiheF  Spain:  Philip  III  of  Spain,  whose  half^ster  Catherine 

had  married  the  Duke  of  Savoy. 
I»  i  Mi    Her  elder  sisier,  the  Infanta  Isabella,  who  married  the  Archduke 

Albert. 
I»  i,  €L    Ff0nche-ComU,  a  district  south  and  east  of  Burgundy,  at  this  time 

In  the  Dossession  of  Spain. 
1^  i  68.    thymeeal  phihsof>hers :  alchemists. 
t»  U  9I^4UL    This  character  of  Byron  is  talien  straight  from   Grimeston 

(p.  992).    It  occurs  originally,  as  Koeppel  (loc,  di^  p.  19)  has  pointed  out, 

in  Cayet  (p.  3166).    Chapman  has  here  done  little  more  than  versify 

Grimeston. 


NOTES  6oi 

1^  i,  88.  His  ambassage :  the  embassy  sent  by  Henry  TV  to  witness  the  Arch- 
duke's oath  to  observe  the  Treaty  of  Vervins  at  Brussds  in  1598. 

I,  U  118-81.  Mr.  Crawford  has  pointed  out  to  me  a  curious  analogue  to  these 
lines  in  Bacon's  Af>oihegmSf  Na  119  :  A  Spartan  wrote  to  Philip  of  Maoedon 
boasting  of  his  victory  at  Chaeronea  that  if  he  measured  his  shadow  he 
would  mid  it  no  longer  than  it  was  before  his  victory. 

I9  it  186.  '  ha  Fin,  in  quarrel  with  some  great  personages  of  the  realm,  and 
surcharged  with  debts  and  suits  in  law^.    Grimeston,  p.  960. 

I,  i,  ICL.    To  piece  out  the  defects  of  right:  cf.  Bussy,  II,  i,  167,  to  imp  the 

.    law. 

I,  i,  18C  My  Marquisate  of  Salnces :  Saluzzo,  a  district  in  north-west  Italy 
at  the  foot  of  the  Alps,  seized  by  Savoy  in  1588. 

1^  1, 188-88.  This  simile  is  a  favourite  of  Chapman's.  It  occurs  first  in  De 
Guiana,  1596 : 

But  as  a  tioer  from  a  moumtain  running, 
The  further  he  extends,  the  greater  grows, 
And  by  his  thrifty  race  strengthens  his  stream. 
Even  to  join  battle  with  th*  imperious  sea. 
Disdaining  his  repulse,  and,  in  despite 
Of  his  proud  fury,  mixeth  with  his  main. 
Taking  on  him  his  title  and  commands, 

Poemst  p.  50. 

See  also  the  poem  Of  Friendship,  and  Chabot,  V,  i,  16-19. 

I,  i»  800.  The  Great  Duke*s  niece :  Marie  de  Medici,  niece  of  Ferdinand  Grand 
Duke  of  Tuscany,  married  to  Henry  IV  in  1600. 

L  it  818.    The  peace,  i.e.,  of  Vervins,  1598. 

(  ii.  Roiseau,  Grimeston,  p.  8x6,  caUs  him  '  a  true-hearted  Frenchman 
who  remained  at  that  time  in  the  Archduke's  Court '  and  '  advertised  the 
King  of  the  Duke  of  Biron's  practises'.  Chapman  makes  him  a  member 
of  the  embassy. 

1^  U»  10.  The  man:  Picot£ ;  '  one  called  Picot6,  bom  at  Orleans,  and  fled  into 
Flanders  .  .  .  did  first  infect  Biron '.    Grimeston,  pp.  975  and  816. 

I,  ii,  87-8.  Semele,  a  mistress  of  Jupiter,  begged  the  god  to  appear  to  her  in 
the  form  he  wore  when  he  embraced  Juno,  and  perished  under  the  over- 
whelming splendour  of  his  appearance.    See  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  III, 

a53-3i5- 

1^  iL  41.  Hercules.  ApoUodorus  {Biblio,  II,  v,  zo)  relates  bow  Hercules 
journeying  through  Africa  to  fetch  the  cattle  of  Gerjron  was  so  oppressed 
with  heat  that  in  a  burst  of  an^er  be  bent  his  bow  against  the  sun.  Chap- 
man refers  to  this  story  again  m  Chabot,  II,  ii,  84-5 ;  see  note  ad  loc. 

I,  ii,  46-0.  Cf.  Bussy  D^Ambois,  V,  iii,  42,  where  Chapman  speaks  of  the 
'  music  footed  horse  *  of  ApoUo. 

1^  lit  88-60.  This  account  of  the  sentence  passed  upon  the  Duke  D'Aumale, 
and  the  more  detailed  account  below  in  U.  147-153,  were  found  by  Chapman 
in  Grimeston,  pp.  786-7.  Professor  Koeppel  {loc.  cit.)  pointed  out  that 
the  decree  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris  registering  this  sentence  is  given 
in  p.  Matthieu  {Histoire  des  demiers  troubles,  z6oi,  Uvre  v,  p.  626).  It 
also  occurs,  however,  in  Serres  {Inventaire  [Generate,  1600,  vol.  3,  pp. 
1917-8),  and  a  comparison  shows  that  Grimeston  translated  from  Serres. 
Additional  evidence  of  this  is  afforded  by  the  fact  that  Matthieu  states 
that  Aumale's  house  was  not  razed  nor  his  trees  cut  down,  in  spite  of  the 
sentence.  Serres  does  not  note  this  failure  to  execute  the  sentence,  and 
both  Grimeston  and  Chapman,  therefore,  speak  as  if  it  had  been  enforced. 

1^  lit  80-108.  This  confused  passage  may  be  paraphrased  as  follows  :  No 
true  power [(i.e.  no  man  possessed  of  real  power)  permits  any  deprivation  to  be 
made  from  his  power,  nor  any  of  his  subjects  to  become  las  rival.  It  is 
the  nature  of  abisolute  powers,  such  as  you  sui}eriors,  to  destroy  one  another 
when  they  come  into  conflict.  Cf . '  Two  stars  hup  not  their  motion  in  one 
sphere'.    IJC.H.IV.,  V,  iv,  65. 


6o2  THE  CONSPIRACY   AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

'9  ii,  118-SL  This  curious  anecdote  is  drawn  from  Grimeston,  p.  929.  The 
Legate  was  Cardinal  Aldobrandino  who  negotiated  the  peace  between 
France  and  Savoy  after  the  brief  war  of  1600-z.  The  Duke  of  Savoy,  who 
had  counted  on  Spanish  aid,  was  bitterly  disappointed  by  the  hard  terms 
of  the  treaty  and  for  a  lon^  time  refused  to  sign  it  or  to  see  the  Legate. 
This  passage  describes  their  final  meeting  in  a  boat  on  the  Po.  L.  131 
means,  I  think,  '  this  ostentatious  profession  of  courtesv  was  the  condusion 
of  Savoy's  friendship  and  of  the  Legate's  labour  in  his  behalf.*  Grimeston 
says, '  The  Duke  thanked  him  so  coldly  as  the  Legate  found  well  that  he 
held  not  himself  beholdin|[  to  him  \ 

The  phrase '  'Twixt  Spain  and  Savoy '  in  L  Z20  would  seem  to  show  that 
Chapman  was  confused  as  to  the  two  parties  to  the  peace.  Possibly, 
however.  Spain  and  Savoy  are  to  be  considered — as  was  mdeed  the  case — 
I  as  one  of  the  parties,  and  France  understood  as  the  other.  It  is  interesting 
to  note,  as  a  proof  of  the  freedom  with  which  Chapman  treated  contem- 
porary history,  that  Picot6  refers  to  this  meeting  two  years  before  it  had 
taken  place. 

It  ii»  174.  This  man^s  :  Picot6*s.  The  first  artide  of  the  charge  of  treason 
drawn  against  Biron  was  that  he  had  used  Picot6  as  a  means  of  com- 
municating privately  with  the  Archduke.    See  ByrofCs  Tragedy,  V,  ii, 

47-51. 

I,  ii,  186.    Mansfield  was  at  this  time  over  eighty  years  of  age. 

I,  Ii,  US.    The  lords  :  i.e.  the  other  Commissioners,  BelliSvre  and  Brulart. 

I,  ii,  2iOS-10.  This  list  of  gifts  is  taken  almost  word  for  word  from  Grimeston, 
p.  816,  except  that  the  name  Pastrana  does  not  appear.  It  oocois, 
however,  on  p.  944. 

!•  ii,  286.    The  great  author:  Henry  IV  of  France. 

n,  i.  Stage-direction.  I  have  inserted  i4  Room  in  the  House  of  Nemours  on  the 
authority  of  Grimeston,  p.  883,  who  says  that  La  Fin  first  had  speech 
with  Savoy  in  the  latter*s  room  at  Nemours'  house. 

Ua  it  89.  This  report,  elaborated  later  in  La  Fin's  speech  (11.  105-28^,  seems 
to  have  been  suggested  to  Chapman  by  Biron's  assertion  at  his  trial  that 
La  Fin  had  bewitched  him  (see  Grimeston,  p.  976,  and  Byron's  Tragedy, 
V,  ii,  158-68^.  There  is  no  suggestion  in  the  original  that  La  Fin  laid 
claim  to  skill  in  magic.  His  boasts  here  seem  reminiscent  of  a  passage 
in  Seneca's  Medea,  U.  752-770. 

n,  i*  ISl.  Pelides  in  Scamander*s  flood.  The  reference  is  to  Achilles'  combat 
with  the  River-god  Scamander  as  told  by  Homer,  Iliad,  XXI,  211,  seq. 

n,  i,  159.  Don  Sebastian :  Sebastian  I,  King  of  Portugal,  slain  at  the  battle 
of  Alcazar,  1578,  in  Morocco.  The  report  that  Phuip  II  of  Spain  gave  a 
hundred  thousand  crowns  for  his  body  is  mentioned  by  Cayet  [Chronohgie 
Sept.,  ed.  1605,  p.  2346)  and  Grimeston,  p.  952.  Chapman  seems  to  hdd 
the  Portuguese  view  that  Don  Sebastian  had  escaped  from  the  battle  and 
that  the  body  in  question  was  that  of  a  Swiss  solmer. 

n,  ii*  1-8.  The  dangers  attending  citizens'  wives  at  the  Court,  especially  00 
nights  when  masques  were  performed,  are  frequently  alluded  to  by  con* 
temporarv  dramatists  and  tract  writers.  See  especially  Jonson's  Love 
Restored  (the  long  speech  of  Robin  Goodfellow),  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
Four  Plays  in  One  (the  Induction),  A  Wife  for  a  Month  (IV,  ii),  and  Sir 
Edward  Peyton's  Divine  Catastrophe  of  the  House  of  Stuarts  (p.  369  ed., 
z8zx). 

n,  ii,  40.  Nor  to  the  warlike  elephant  in  white :  cf .  Chapman's  poem,  A  Good 
Woman: 

And  as  those  that  in  elephants  delight, 
Never  come  near  them  in  weeds  rich  and  bright^ 
•  V.  •    "'-.     Nor  bulls  approach  in  scarlet;  since  those  hues 
Through  both  those  beasts  enraged  affects  infuse. 

Poems,  p.  152. 

The  original  source  is  Plutarch,  Conjugalia  Praecepta,  45,  but  it  may 
perhaps  have  come  to  Chapman  through  Lyly^^who  drew  largely  upon  thui 


r  NOTES  603 

work  for  his  letter  of  Euphues  to  Philautus  on  the  latter*9  marriage, 
Euphues.and  his  England  (p.  471-5,  Arber's  reprint).  I  owe  this  reference 
to  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Charles  Crawford. 

II»  ii»  6S-CL  This  device  of  Savoy's  to  draw  out  Henry  is  based  upon  Grime- 
ston,  p.  883.  '  The  Duke*s  proceeding  therein  [Le.  in  provoking 
Biron  against  the  king]  was  very  canning  and  judicious,  for  oftentimes  he 
would  begin  a  discourse  of  the  valour  and  courage  of  the  Duke  Biron,  to 
sound  the  King's  opinion,  who  did  not  alwa3rs  give  him  the  ^orv  of  those 
goodly  exoeutions,  whereof  he  I^Biron]  wanted.  The  Duke  did  still  ad- 
vertise the. Duke  Biron  of  anythmg  the  King  had  said  of  him  that  might 
any  way  alter  him  '• 

II»  ii«  9S.  As  unrelentingly  hostile  as  Juno  to  Hercules.  U.  94-ioz  are 
taken  from  Plutarch,  U9  AUxandri  Magni  Virtute  out  Fortuna,  9.  The 
Latin  text  suggested  Chapman's  diction. 

n,  li,  118.  Siege  of  Drenx.  The  account  of  tHe  battle  which  follows  is  taken 
sUmost  verbally  from  Grimeston's  account  of  the  battle  of  Ivrv,  p.  74^* 
As  Koepjpel  {loc.  cU,)  points  out,  Grimeston's  original,  Jean  ae  Serres. 
heads  this  account  with  a  marginal  note,  Assiege  Dreux,  etc,  Grimeston 
also  has  the  marginal  note  '  Siege  of  Dreux '  at  the  top  of  p.  748.  The 
battle  of  Ivry  was  brought  about  by  Mayenne's  attempt  to  relieve  Dreux, 
which  Henry  was  besieging. 

II»  ii,  119.    De  la  Guiche :  Great  Master  of  Henry's  artillery  at  Ivry. 

n,  ii,  128.  Your  Duke*s  old  father:  the  Marshal  du  Biron,  father  of  Charles, 
a  soldier  almost  as  famous  as  his  son. 

II»  ii,  184.  Du  Maine:  better  known  as  Mayenne,  second  son  of  Francis  Duke 
of  Guise,  and  brother  of  Henry  Duke  of  Guise  murdered  by  Henry  III. 
After  the  death  of  his  brother  he  became  the  head  of  the  League  which 
resisted  Henry  IV.  Henry  defeated  him  at  Arques,  Ivry,  and  Fontaine 
Fran^aise.  Finally  Mayenne  submitted  on  favourable  terms,  recognized 
Hezu:y  as  King,  1596,  and  became  his  faithful  subject. 

lit  ii*  186-4L  These  lines  are  taken  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston's  ac- 
count (p.  781)  of  Biron's  campaign  against  the  Leaguers  and  Spanish  in 
Burgundy  in  1595.  Tavannes  commanded  for  the  League  in  Dijon.  The 
Constable  of  Castile  was  Ferdinando  de  Velasco,  whom  Motley  calls  '  one 
of  Spain's  richest  grandees  and  poorest  generals  '. 

lit  ii»  144  Fontaine  Frangaise:  1595,  one  of  the  most  famous  victories  of 
Henry  IV.  Chapman  again  follows  Grimeston's  account  (pp.  782-3)  very 
closely. 

n,  ii,  148.  The  Baron  of  Lux  :  a  dose  friend  of  Biron  who  rescued  him  from 
death  or  captivity  at  Fontaine  Fran^aise. 

n,  ii,  186.  Their  great  generoTs:  Mayenne,  whose  inaction  at  Fontaine 
Ftancaise  was  one  cause  of  the  Leaguers'  defeat. 

n,  ii,  iSlA.  Myhr*  Norris  :  Sir  John  Norrts  (1547  ?-97),  a  famous  Elizabethan 
soldier  who  received  his  first  training  under  Coligny.  He  served  in  the 
Low  Countries  against  the  Spanish,  where  he  was  kmghted  for  distinguished 
bravery  by  Leicester.  Along  with  Drake  he  commanded  the  great  expedi- 
tion despatched  against  Spam  in  1589.  In  15 91  and  1393  he  fought  with 
the  English  auxiliaries  sent  to  the  aid  of  Henry  IV  in  Brittany.  Henry  IV 
commended  his  valour  to  a  letter  in  Queen  Elizabeth. 

n,  ii,  880-8.  The  punctuation  of  this  passage  is  hopelessly  confused  in  the 
Qq.  I  take  IL  221-2  to  be  parenthetical  and  have  so  marked  them. 
After  the  phrase,  on  any  sudden,  supply  *  call '  or  *  emergency '. 

n,  U,  884.  Colonel  WiUiams,  Sir  Roger  Williams  (1540  ?-95)  a  famous 
Welsh  soldier,  who  fought  in  the  Low  Countries  under  Norris,  where  he 
was  knighted  by  Leicester,  and  in  France  with  Henry  IV  against  the 
League.  Henry  entertained  a  very  high  opinion  of  him  ;  '  I  never  heard 
him  ^[Henry]  give  more  honour  to  any  service  nor  to  any  man '  wrote  the 
English  ambassador  in  1592.  He  was  a  fearless,  quick-tempered  soldier, 
less  famous  as  a  leader  than  Norris,  but  remarkable  for  his  personal 
L  bravery. 
'  1'  88*4i8>    It  is  a  curious  instance  of  Chapman's  lack  of  consistently  de- 


6o4  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

velop^d  characterization  that  Byron  in  these  lines  and  his  following 
speech  repeats  almost  literally  the  sentiments  of  Pioot6  in  I,  ii,  86-136. 
llie  hero,  who  in  the  former  scene  had  replied  by  a  eulogy  of  loyalty,  is 
here  found  playing  the  part  of  the  tempter  and  preaching  the  di^cttines  of 
Machiavellian  state-cralt.  Yet  nothing  has  happened  in  the  meantime  to 
alienate  Byron  from  the  King.  The  truth  is  that  Chapman  is  more 
intent  upon  the  expression  of  sentiments  suitable  to  the  occasioo,  as  here, 
than  on  the  harmonious  development  of  character. 

m,  1,  84.    The  pik€S*  points  charging  heaven^  i.e.  lifted  in  salute. 

ni,  i,  68.     Through  should  here  be  pronottnced  as  a  dissyllable. 

in,  i,  66.    '  Your  Grace's  piercing  and  forcible  arguments  \ 

ni,  il,  7.  The  painter  mentioned  here  is  not  introduced  in  stay  stage  Aeotioa, 
yet  he  is  evidently  upon  the  scene  engaged  on  a  portrait  of  Byron ;  cf.  the 
expressions  of  the  Savoyards  in  11.  117-21,  and  the  stage  direction  after 
1.  138. 

in,  ii,  16.  Potatoes  :  the  sweet  potato,  for  thsrt  is  the  plant  usually  meant 
by  this  word  down  to  about.1650,  was  considered  an  s^>lirodlsiac.  Gerzrd 
says  {HerbaUf  1597,  p.  781)  '  they  procure  bodily  lust,  and  that  with 
grcedinesse '.  Marston  {Scourge  of  ViUanyf  I,  iii,  70)  mentions  candied 
potatoes  as  an  aphrodisiac. 

m,  iu  60.  The  Welsh  herald  of  their  praise.  '  The  euokdo  was '  sometimes 
called  "  The  Welsh  Ambassador  "...  In  Middleton's  A  Trick  to  catch 
the  Old  One,  iv,  5,  we  read  "  Why,  thou  ro^ue.  .  .  .  thy  sound  is  like  the 
cuckoo,  the  Wdsh  Ambassador "  '.  Phipson,  Aniinal  Lore  of  Skahe^ 
speare*s  Time,  p.  206.  Chapman  here  fancies  the  cuckoo  as  especially 
given  to  singing  praises  of  Welshmen ;  yet  even  tiie  cuckoo  would  not 
nave  compared  Williams  to  Byron. 

Xn^  ii,  66.  Curtian  Gulf.  Livy,  vii,  6,  teBs  how  in  the  year  359  B.a  an 
earthquake  opened  a  culf  in  the  Roman  Forum  whidi  nothing  could  ^ose. 
The  augurs  declared  that  it  would  never  be  closed  until  there  were  ttuown 
into  it  that  on  which  the  greatness  of  Rome  depended.  A  young  wanior, 
Marcus  Curtius,  declared  that  the  state  depended  on  v^our  and  arms, 
and  mounting  his  steed  plunged  in  full  armour  into  the  euK,  whi<di  dosed 
above  his  head.  The  spot  in  the  Forum  where  he  sank  was  henceforth 
called  the  Curtian  pooL 

in,  ii,  86.  Livers.  The  liver,  here,  as  so  often  in  Elizabethan  poetry,  is 
thought  of  as  the  seat  of  the  emotions. 

m,  ii,  97.  The  Cyclop :  a  form  of  the  singular,  from  the  French  Cyelape. 
Chapman  uses  it  also  in  his  translation  of  the  Odyssey.  The  reference  here 
is  to  Polyphemus,  blinded  by  Ulysses ;  see  Odyssey  IX,  395-400 : 

He  from  forth  his  eye 
The  fixed  stake  plucked,  after  which  the  bhod 
Flow'd  freshly  forth  ;  and^  mad,  he  hurVd  ike  wood 
About  his  hovel. 

Chapman's  Odyssey. 

The  comparison  of  an  army  deprived  of  its  leader  to  the  Uind  Cyclop 
and  to  a  dying  body^  is  from  Plutarch's  De  Alex.  Mag.  etc.  Oratio  II,  4. 
The  Latin  text  evidently  suggested  Chapman's  pbraseolo^ :  Statim 
autem  mortuo  Alexandro  exercitum  ejus  vagantem  et  in  s^sum  tmpingmtem 
Leosthenes  similem  dixit  Cyclopi  esse,  qui  amisso  oculo  usqueguaque  manus 
intendebat  nullum  ad  cerium  scopum  dvrectas.  .  .  .  Atque  adeo  sicutanima 
deserente  cadavera  non  consisiunt,  non  coherent,  sed  dissipantur  et  dissohuntur  : 
ita  exercUus  Alexandro  amoto  palpitabat,  concuii^HUur,  atque  aestuabat 
.  .  .  tanquam  spiritibus  etiamnum  calidis  ac  pulsibus  in  corpore  discur^ 
reniibus. 

US,  ii,  117.  Here  the  Savoyards  interrupt  the  conversation  with  their  out- 
burst in  praise  of  the  portrait  which  the  painter  has  aU  this  time  been 
making  of  Byron. 

int  ii»  128-8«  This  passage  comes  from  Grimeston,  p.  852.  '  Xbe  Duke  of 
Biron  did  see  him  [Peter  de  Pinac]  in  his  sicknesse,  ^d  tssbted  «t  bis 


NOTES  605 

funeral.  No  man  Uvinp;  did  better  judge  of  the  nature  of  men  by  the 
Qonsideration  of  their  visages ;  he  did  divine  the  Marshal  Biron's  fortune 
by  his  countenance  and  the  proportion  of  his  visage,  for  having  considered 
it  somewhat  curiously,  he  said  unto  his  sister  alter  his  departure.  Uee 
hath  the  wont  Phisiognomie  thai  ever  I  observed  in  my  life,  as  of  a  man  that 
would  perish  miserably  \    It  seems  somewhat  strange  that  Chapman  should 

§uote  such  a  prediction  at  this  point  wh^en  the  Savoyards  are  flattering 
lyron.  Possibly  he  means  Roncas  to  quote  it  as  a  mere  introduction 
to  his  own  opposite  and  favourable  judgment  (11.  129-38),  but  more  likely 
Chapman  simply  inserted  here  an  interesting  passage  from  Grimeston 
without  caring  for  its  dramatic  propriety. 
m,  ii^  188.  The  stage  direction  after  this  Ime  is  not  very  dear.  As  it  stands 
in  the  Qq.  it  would  imply  that  Roncas,  the  speaker,  snatches  away  the 

Eicture.  But  I  fancy  that  the  He  of  the  direction  means  Byron  (cf. 
.  140-1),  and  that  as  so  often  in  the  old  texts  the  stage-direction  is  placed 
too  early. 

QL  ii  140-77.  This  long  speech  is  founded  on  a  passage  in  Plutarch,  De 
Alexandri  Magni :  Fortuna  aut  vtrtute,  Otatio,  II,  2.  Speaking  of 
Alexander's  patronage  of  the  sculptor  Lysippus,  Plutarch  uses  words 
which  Chapman  simply  paraphrases :  (^uod  is  [Lysippus]  soWs  are  tw- 
genium  ipsius  [Alexander]  exprimeret,  simulque  cum  forma  etiam  virtuiem 
proponeret :  reliqui  inclinaiionem  cervids,  oculorumque  renidentem  volubili' 
taiim  inUtari  volentes^  masculum  ejus  leonimumque  vuUum  non  servabant. 
The  story  of  Stasicrates  the  sculptor  (who  proposed  to  carve  a  statue  of 
Alexander  out  of  Mount  Athos)  follows  in  the  same  section  of  this  oration. 
Here  Chapman  has  treated  his  original  somewhat  more  freeiv  in  the  attempt 
to  adapt  the  passage  to  the  situation  in  his  play.  Thus  ne  substitutes  a 
supposititious  mountain,  Oros,^  in  Burgundy,  for  Athos,  and  calls  the  city 
which  was  to  be  placed  in  the  left  hand  of  the  colossus,  Amiens.  But  the 
Latin  text  of  Plutarch  seems  to  have  suggested  several  phrases  to  Chap- 
man. Thus  for  eternis  radicibus  we  have  eternal  roots  1. 153,  and '  aurum, 
as,  ebuf,  venalia  et  furiis  exposita  *  find  their  counterparts  in  11.  174-6. 

in,  ii,  188.  Amiens.  The  siege  of  Amiens  in  1597  was  one  of  the  most 
famous  of  Biron's  exploits.  He  served  there  as  second  in  command  to 
the  King  himself.  Frequent  reference  is  made  to  this  siege  in  the  Byron 
plays.    See  Byron* s  Tragedy,  I,  i,  14  ;   V,  iii,  165. 

tn,  ii»  181.  Cabinet  of  Beatrice:  the  jewel  case  of  Beatrice  of  Portugal, 
grandmother  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy. 

XO,  U^  191.  His  person :  i.e.  the  person  of  the  King,  Henry  IV.  Eighteen 
attempts  are  said  to  have  been  made  upon  the  life  of  Henry  before  he 
finally  was  murdered  by  Ravaillac  Grimeston,  p.  914,  says  that  one  of 
the  causes  which  emboldened  Savoy  against  Henry  was  the  frequent 
attempts  on  the  Latter's  life,  '  presuming  it  was  not  possible  but  that 
some  one  would  hit '. 

m,  ii,  186.  I  take  it  that  on  the  entrance  of  Nemours  and  Soissons  Savoy 
first  liaUs  Byron's  attention  to  them,  and  then  dropping  his  voice  teUs  him 
(U.  195-6)  that  they  must  change  the  subject  of  their  discourse.  This  he 
proceeds  to  do  by  his  formal  compliment  to  Byron  (11.  197-200),  and  then, 
as  the  lords  approach,  notifies  Byron  of  their  presence  (L  201),  as  if  he  had 
just  noticed  tnem.  I  have  tried  to  bring  out  this  construction  of  the 
passage  by  the  punctuation. 

m,  ii,  887-8.    Cf.  Chapman's  Hymnus  in  Cynthiam : 

As  at  thy  altars  in  thy  Persic  empire 
Thy  holy  women  walk*d  with  naked  soles 
Harmless  and  confident  on  burning  coals. 

Poems,  p.  xz. 

To  this  passage  Chapman  himself  appends  a  note  :  *  This  Strabo  testi- 

1  Chapman  appaieatly  uses  the  Greek  cammon  noon  opor,  moontain,  as  a  proper  aame 
here ;  but  he  may  have  borrowed  the  name  from  Oros,  a  peak  in  Aegina. 


6o6  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

fieth  Libro  duodecimo '.    Strabo  XII,  ii,  7,  pre^  snch  a  report  of  the 
TOiestesses  of  Diana  Perasia  (hence,  perhaps,  Qiapman's  Persic  empire)  at 
Cast  ahal  a* 
n  Uf  SS9.    /  build  not  outward  :  cf . 

Like  the  marilei 
Builds  in  the  weather  on  the  outwdrd  watt. 

Merchant  of  Venice,  II,  ix,  38-9. 

m,  ii,  2SS-41.  Men  mere  exempt  .  .  .  markets :  only  men  free  from  all 
connexion  with  power  are  clear,  i.e.  unstained ;  indeed^it  is  safer  tocboote 
a  friend  from  the  pillory  than  from  the  Court. 

m,  ii*  047-68.  This  elaborate  simile  is  drawn  from  the  Elizabethan  fashion  of 
publishing  books,  of  poetry  in  particular,  preceded  by  a  host  of  eulogistic 
poemsi  These  are  tne  goodly  heralds  of  L  248.  llie  parenthetical  pas- 
sage 11.  253-8  gives  a  sort  of  summary  of  the  praises  which  such  poems 
were  accustomed  to  bestow  upon  the  author ;  his  ipens  alone  imp 
(piece  out)  the  Muses*  wings ,  he  sjpends  his  nights  with  tlie  Muses,  his  hem 
IS  clothed  with  the  poet's  ba3rs,  his  musical  feet  are  of  the  heavenly  model, 
swift  as  the  perpetuum  mobile,  etc.  And  the  poet  swollen  with  their 
flattery  believes  that  it  was  his  merit  which  provoked  and  emitted  {eas*d) 
these  windy  sentiments,  which  yet  are  merely  eulogistic  and  have  no  true 
merit. 

in,  ii,  87S.  That  matchless  Queen:  Elizabeth  of  England.  With  the  foUow- 
ing  eulogy  of  her  Court,  cf.  the  passage  in  Bussy,  I,  ii,  6-27. 

m,  iiL  This  scene  is  based  upon  a  detailed  account  in  Grimeston  of  Bircn's 
visit  to  La  Brosse,  '  a  great  mathematician  whom  they  held  to  be  skilful 
in  casting  of  nativities '  (p.  993).  The  action  of  the  scene  is  taiken  with  no 
change  from  Grimeston,  who  translated  it  from  Cayet  (p.  3x9,  se^., 
edition  of  1605).  An  exactly  similar  account  occurs  in  the  anonymous 
Histoirede  la  Vie  .  .  »  du  Mareschal  de  Biron,  1602  (CImber's  Archives 
curieuses  de  Vhistoire  de  France,  ire  Serie,  Tome  14}.  Cayet  either  wrote 
this  pamphlet  or  incorporated  it  in  his  later  work  {Chronologic  Septenatre, 
2605}.  The  speeches,  on  the  other  hand,  are  largely  Chapman's  own  in- 
vention. 

m,  iii,  86.    '  Into  the  circle  {compass)  of  the  throne  for  [which  I  am  striving  *. 

n^  liL  68«  The  phrase.  Caput  Algol,  taken  like  so  much  else  in  this  scene 
from  Grimeston,  is  an  astrological  term.  Algol  (Arabic  tfl-gM.  the 
S^oul)  13  the  star  ^  Persei  in  the  cluster  of  stars  known  as  the  Medusa's 
head  in  that  constellation.  That  its  appearance  in  a  nativity  was  of  evil 
omen  is  clear  from  two  lines  of  George  Daniel's  Trinarchodia  : 

Irresolution  doth  as  dreadfuU  rise 

As  Caput  Algot  [misprint  for  Alg6[\  in  nativities. 

Henry  V,  82. 

But  there  is  probably  a  special  connexion  here  between  the  Medusa's 

head,  cut  off  by  Perseus,  and  Byron's  which,  as  La  Brosse  foresaw,  was  to 

fall  beneath  the  executioner's  sword. 
m,  ill,  65-69.    These  lines,  as  Cunliffe  pointed  out  {Influence  of  Seneca^  p.  96) 

are  largely  an  adaptation  of  the  dialogue  between  Oedipus  and  Creon  in 

the  Senecan  Oedipus  (11.  511-29,  Teubner  edition).    Another  bit  of  this 

dialogue  is  translated  later  on  {ByronCs  Tragedy,  IV,  ii,  226,  228). 
ni^  iii,  64.    *  What  thou  must  utter  with  thy  tongue,  ii  it  is  to  be  made  known 

to  me  safely '.    So  at  least  I  understand  the  passage,  but  must  may  be  a 

misprint  for  may'sL    See  Text  Notes,  p.  625. 
n  iii*  78.    Hold  on,  in  the  sense  of  '  continue '. 
m,  iii,  84.    This  line  lacks  a  syllable  of  the  ncnmal  metre  and  is,  X  believe, 

corrupt.    See  Text  Notes,  p.  625. 
m,  iii,  A.    The  bulls  of   Colchis  :   the  fire-breathing  bulls  which  Jason 

by  the  aid  of  Medea's  magic,  tamed  in  Colchis. 
His  triple  neck,  etc, :  the  breath  of  the  three-headed  dog,  Cerberus. 


NOTES  607 

n  ^  M.  The  most  mortal  vapours :  a  reference  to  the  old  beliel  that  the 
fumes  rising  from  Lake  Avemus»  the  supposed  entrance  to  Hades, 
stifled  even  the  birds  which  tried  to  fly  across  it. 

n^  iii«  96-100.  These  lines  seem  to  me  rather  an  example  of  Chapman's 
love  for  sententious  and  gnomic  verse  than  dramatically  appropriate. 
Byron  says,  as  I  understand  the  passage,  that  there  is  no  earthly  joy  so 
pure  but  that  it  becomes  a  parasite,  etc,  when  it  begins  to  flatter  a  soul 
mtoxicated  with  pride. 

in,  iil»  188.  Aspects  .  .  .  houses  :  astrological  terms  ;  the  former  denoting 
'the  wav  in  which  the  planets,  from  their  relative  positions,  look  upon  each 
other '  (New  Eng.  Diet.)  These  '  aspects  '  might  be  either  beneficent  or 
malignant  toward  the  person  whose  nativity  was  being  cast.  .'  Houses  ' 
are  divisions  of  the  heavens,  or,  perhaps  here,  signs  of  the  zodiac.  The  posi- 
tion of  each  planet  toward  each  house  was  a  matter  of  importance  in 
astrology,  since  certain  positions  portended  a  bloody  and  violent  death, 
hence  bloody  houses. 

m,  iij,  140-8.  These  lines  were  chosen  by  Shelley  as  a  motto  for  his  Laon 
and  Cythna. 

US,  iiit  146.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  scene  closes  with  the  stage 
direction  for  the  exit  of  Byron.  Apparently  La  Brosse,  who  according  to 
Grimeston  was  beaten  and  left  half  dead,  remains  prostrate  upon  the 
stage.  If  this  be  so,  there  must  have  been  some  arrangement  by  which 
a  curtain  coiUd  have  been  drawn  to  conceal  him  and  permit  his  departure 
from  the  stage.  Possibly  this  scene  was  played  upon  the  balcony  or  upper 
stage  which  could  be  so  curtained  off. 

Act  Iv.  This  act,  as  Fleay  points  out  {Biog.  Chron.,  vol.  i,  p.  63)  has 
evidently  been  cut  to  pieces  by  the  censor  and  patched  up  in  the  best  way 
possible  for  the  press.  No  doubt  in  the  original  Byron's  visit  to  the  Court 
of  Elizabeth  was  represented,  not  narrated,  and  the  great  Queen  herself 
appeared  upon  the  stage.  Koeppel  suggests  that  the  act  in  its  original  form 
also  contained  the  striking  scene  recorded  in  Matthieu  in  which  the  Queen 
pointed  out  to  Biron  the  mouldering  heads  of  traitors,  among  them  that 
of  Essex,  and  sent  a  warning  to  her  brother  of  France  against  his  careless 
clemency.  But  this  scene  does  not  occur  in  Grimeston,  who  considerably 
abridges  Matthieu's  account  of  Biron's  embassy,  and  I  cannot  therefore 
accept  Professor  Koeppd's  suggestion  as  a  certainty,  the  more  so  as 
Camden,  Chapman's  contemporary,  and  probable  ac(]uaintanoe,  denies 
the  reality  of  this  scene  .*  Quod  quiddam  Gallici  scriptores  prodiderint, 
earn  [Elizabeth]  eranium  Essexii  inter  plura  damnatorumj  in  inHmo  Larario, 
vel  {ut  alii  scribuni),  polo  afixum,  Bironio  et  Gallis  ostentasse,  ridicule 
vanum  est.  lUud  enim  una  cum  corpore  eonsepuUum,  {Annates,  vol.  3, 
p.  877,  edition  I7i7') 

The  long  speech  of  the  Queen  (11.  8-58)  is  taken  almost  word  for  word 
from  Grimeston,  p.  945,  wno  translates  it  from  Matthieu  ;  but  the  suc- 
ceeding speeches,  whidi  have  to  me  a  like  air  of  paraphrase,  are  not  to  be 
found  m  that  source,  and  I  have  not  been  able  to  trace  them. 

lYy  if  85-88.  A  quotation  from  Grimeston,  p.  045,  will  show  how  closely 
Chapman  follows  his  sources  in  this  speech,  and  at  the  same  time  elucidate 
the  text :  '  She  could  not  say  that  a  courage  which  feared  nothing  but 
the  falling  of  the  Pillars  of  Heaven,  should  feare  the  Sea,  or  not  trust  unto 
it  for  a  passage  of  seven  or  eight  houres,  blaming  them  rather  which  had  not 
instructed  him  as  well  to  contenme  the  Waves  of  the  Sea,  as  the  desseignes 
of  his  enemies  uppon  the  Land  \ 

!▼•  it  40»  Crystal :  I  think  this  word  is  to  be  understood  here  in  the  sense  of 
the  crystalline  sphere,  or  Heaven  itself.  Heaven,  the  Queen  says,  gives 
not  only  its  light,  but  its  crystalline  hardness,  and  its  height  to  serve  as 
defences  to  England.  This  passage  does  not  occur  in  Grimeston,  but  is 
one  of  Chapman's  elaborationa  of  his  originaL 

I?»  it  8L  '  tie '  in  this  line  is  not  Byron,  but  his  master  Henry  IV,  for  whom 
he  is  speaking. 

IVf  1*  10$-7.    Note  the  change  firom  indirect  to  direct  discourse  in  these  lines« 


6o8  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

a  dear  proof  that  the  act  has  been  pieced  together  from  a  cut-op  mami- 

soript. 
I¥,  i,  ls9.    See  the  note  on  Reoengfi  of  Bussy,  II,  i,  z  76-81. 
I¥f  i»  14ft.    Tliere  seems  to  be  a  slight  anachromsm  here.    Grimeston,  p.  964, 

says  that  on  his  return  to  Ftance  Biron  found  that  the  King  had  left  Calais 

for  Fontainebleau  to  be  present  at  the  confinement  of  the  Queen.    This 

took  place  on  September  27,  when  the  Dauphin,  afterwards  Louis  XIII, 

was  bom. 
I?»  i*  Iftdt    D'Auvergne  is  here  called  '  Prince '  on  account  of  his  royal  birth. 

See  note  on  Dramatis  Personae. 

IV,  U  158*    ^  CoundUof  :  perhaps  Robert  Cecil. 

Vft  U  IM^l*  The  pun  in  these  Imes  is  plainer  in  the  (juartos,  where  DauphU^ 
appears  in  the  old  spelling  as  Daulpninef  or  Dolphin.  The  story  of  Arion, 
the  minstrel,  who  threw  himself  mto  the  sea  to  escape  the  murderous 
sailors,  and  was  borne  safe  to  shore  by  a  music-loving  dolphin,  is  told  by 
Herodotus,  I,  xziv. 

I?,  i,  171^^4.  This  simile  is  from  Plutarch,  De  Alex.  Mag.  ForL  out  ViHuU» 
OraHo  II,  4.  As  before  (III,  ii,  140-77)  the  Latin  text  suggests  Chapman's 
diction. 

I¥,  i,  189.  The  sentence  is  interrupted  here  to  introduce  the  long  simHe  that 
follows,  11.  190-205.  The  Qq.  nave  only  a  comma  after  greatest,  but  the 
dash  seems  to  make  the  structure  of  the  sentence  clearer. 

I¥,  U  818.  The  fixed  stars  twinkle,  whereas  the  planets,  or  erring,  i.e.  wander- 
ing, stars,  shine  steadily. 

lY,  i,  10.6.    '  Whom  the  stars  direct  and  govern '. 

lY,  i,  881-8.  '  Your  counsel  moves  as  regularly  and  perfectly  as  one  of  the 
heavenly  spheres,  and  is  the  sum  and  substance  {continent  of  the  wisdom 
of  England '. 

Vff  i»  81.  Bourg,  ie.,  Bourg-en-Bresse,  a  town  near  the  south-eastern  border 
of  France.  It  had  been  ceded  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy  bv  the  Treaty  of 
Cambrai,  and  was  in  z6oo  esteemed '  one  of  the  strongest  places  in  Emrope ' 
(Grimeston,  p.  894).  The  town  was  surprised  by  Biron  in  the  war  of  1600 
between  France  and  Savoy,  and  he  therefore  b^eved  that  he  had  earned 
the  right  of  nominating  the  commander  of  its  citadel,  which  was  surren- 
dered at  the  dose  of  the  war. 

V>  i.  48-6.  This  simile  is  taken  direct  from  Plutarch  De  Prima  Frigido,  xiv, 
where  we  are  told :  Among  the  Persians  the  strongest  method  of  de- 
manding anything,  and  the  most  certain  of  obtaining  it  [the  Latin  trans- 
lation has  repulsae  securamf  which  no  doubt  gave  Chapman  his  phrase  in 
1. 41]  was  for  the  suppliant  to  descend  into  a  river  with  the  fire  and  threaten 
that  he  would  throw  it  jinto  the  stream  uxUess  he  obtained  what  he 
sought. 

y,  U  47-8.  Cold  hath  no  act  in  depth :  cold  has  no  power  in  the  depths, 
and  consequently  nothing  important  can  be  obtained  that  is  sought  for 
coldly. 

V*  !•  69-7ft.  The  reasons  given  here,  and  in  11. 115-18,  for  Henry's  refusal  are 
taken  aJmost  literally  nrom  Grimeston,  p.  925. 

V»  i*  104.  In  reward  for  Biron's  services  against  the  League  his  barony  had 
been  raised  to  a  dukedom  in  1598. 

V»  i.  107-8.  '  If  vou  do  not  regard  your  honour,  Le.  the  honovr  springing  from 
titles,  etc,  why  do  you  ask  for  this  distinction,  Le.  the  inrivilege  of  nomin- 
ating a  commander  for  the  citadel  of  Bourg.' 

V*  if  188.    Into  the  horse-fair :  i.e.  into  a  place  where  it  can  produce  no  good. 

V»  i,  180.  See  note  on  IV,  i,  40.  The  idea  here  is  that  Heaven  keeps  a  tme 
record  of  men's  actions. 

V,  i,  148-84.  Argues  and  Dieppe :  Henry  gained  his  first  important  victory 
over  the  League,  after  becoming  King,  at  Arques  in  Normandy,  1589. 
Biron  fought  here  with  him  and  afterwards  in  the  sknxnisbes  before  Dieppe. 
Dreux  is  Ivry,  see  note  on  II,  ii,  112.  Artois,  Picardy,  provinces  on  the 
N.E.  border  of  France,  at  that  time  partly  in  the  hands  of  the  Spanish. 
In  September,  1596,  Biron  entered  Artois,  'invading  the  county  of  St. 


NOTES  609 

Paul,  he  took  and  spoiled  the  town  ...  he  returns  to  Bapaiune.  .  .  . 
raoils  Couroelles,  .  .  .  makes  a  road  toward  Bethune,runs  into  Douai ' 
(unmeston,  p.  790).  Evidently  Chapman  had  Gdmeston  open  before 
him  when  he  wrote  these  lines. 

V»  iL  This  scene  is  elabcrated  by  Chapman  from  a  couple  of  brief  hints  in 
Grimeston.  On  p.  961  he  sa^  :  '  This  denial  [of  the  right  to  nominate 
a  keeper  of  the  citadel  at  Bourg]  did  so  transport  the  Duke  of  Biron, 
and  thrust  him  into  such  strange  and  divelish  resolutions,  as  one  morning 
being  in  his  bed  at  Chaumont»  he  made  an  enterprise  upon  the  King's 
person,  .  .  .  but  it  was  not  executed ' ;  and  on  j^.  962,  '  But  finding 
.  .  .  that  the  King  had  some  notice  of  his  practices  with  La  Fin,  he  seemea 
to  bee  verie  penitent,  and  asked  pardon  of  the  Kin^,  walking  in  the  Cloister 
of  the  Frandscane  Friars  at  Lions,  beseeching  him  (with  a  countenance 
full  al  contrition  and  humilitie)  to  forget  his  bad  intentions,  the  which 
rage  and  dispisht  for  the  Cittadell  of  Bourg  had  possessed  his  heart  with. 
The  King  pardoned  him.  Saying  that  he  was  well  pleased,  that  hee  had 
reived  upon  his  demende,  and  the  love  which  he  bare  him  *. 

From  the  first  of  these  passages  Chapman  takes  the  idea  of  a  personal 
attack  by  Byron  on  the  King  (stage  direction  after  1.  29,  and  the 
reference  to  a  pistol,  L.  42) ;  from  the  second,  Byron's  kneeling  for  pardon 
(stage  direction  after  L  84)  and  the  King's  forgiveness.  The  two  ind- 
dents  are  brought  into  immediate  connection  by  Chapman  for  the  sake 
of  dramatic  effect.  Really  both  came  after,  not  before,  the  departure  of 
Savoy  firom  France,  which  takes  place  at  the  dose  of  this  scene. 
▼•  ll»  19.  Antic  vimrd,  i.e.  the  grotesque  mask  of  the  andent  oomic actor, 
which  seems  to  mock  the  spectator.  Such  a  mocking  mask — the  reference 
Is  to  the  King's  denial  of  Byron's  daims — ^is  all  that  the  King  has  learned 
from  the  hard  lessons  of  want  and  misery  in  his  earlier  years  and  the 
worth  and  honour  to  which  he,  with  Byron's  help,  has  recently  risen, 
instead  of  the  heroic  fashions — ^i.e.  of  gratitude  and  liberality — which 
he  should  have  acquired.  The  passage  is  characteristic  of  Chapman's 
condensed  Hand  involved  style. 

▼•  ii  88.  The  dead  noises  of  my  sword  :  the  past  noises  (i.e.  battles)  of  my 
sword. 

T,  U,  tl-8.    A  reminiscence,  as  Cunliffe  has  pointed  out,  of  Seneca: 

da  tempus  ac  spaHum  tihi: 
quod  raHo  non  quit  saepe  sanavit  mora. 

Agamemnon,  U.  129-30. 

Y,  %  «-•.  PUny,  NoHifal  History,  Book  XXX,  chap.  53,  says  that  '  of  all 
known  substances  it  is  a  mule's  hoof  only  that  is  not  corroded  by  the 
poisonous  waters  of  the  fountain  Styx ;  a  memorable  discovery  made  by 
Aristotle  .  .  .  when  Antipater  sent  some  of  this  water  to  Alexander  the 
Great  to  poison  him '.  Plutarch,  Alexander,  77,  adds  that  this  poison  was 
'  of  a  cola  and  deadly  quality,  which  distils  from  a  rock  in  the  territcry  of 
Nonacris  ;  and  that  they  receive  it  as  they  would  do  so  many  dewdrops, 
and  keep  it  in  an  ass's  hoof ;  its  extreme  coldness  and  acrimony  being  such 
that  it  makes  its  way  through  all  other  vessels '.  See  also  Browne's 
Vulzof  Errors,  Book  VII.  17. 

y»  Ui,  08-6.  The  dty  of  Bus  had  a  general  control  of  the  Olympic  games. 
The  Judges  were  chosen  by  lot  from  the  whole  body  of  Elean  dtizens,  and 
an  appeal  from  their  decisions  might  be  carried  to  the  Elean  senate. 

T,  U*  108.  The  short  madness  of  my  rnnger  :  a  commonplace  which  goes  back 
at  least  as  far  as  Horace: 

Jra  furor  brevis  est. 

Epistles  I,  il,  62. 
T,  ii,  184.    To  hunt  down :  i.e.  to  weaken,  to  flag. 
V,  ii,  IIMM.    This  boast  of  the  Duke  is  twice  mentioned  by  Grimeston,  who 

adds  (p.  930),'  but  he  lost  all  Savoy  in  less  than  forty  days '. 
T,  U,  167.    aaUoon ;  a  game  played  with  a  large  inflated  ball  which  was 

G*D.W«  ft  R 


6io  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

struck  back  and  fortb  by  the  arms  of  the  players  defended  by  a  bracer  of 

▼,  li,  160-2.  There  is  probably  a  reference  here  to  Henry's  amour  with  the 
beautiful  Gabrielle  D'Estr6es,  to  whom  he  is  said  to  have  been  first  intro- 
duced by  her  lover,  Bellegarde,  as  a  diversion  between  two  battles.  SuJly 
{Memoirs,  Book  IV)  relates  that  Henry  once  disguised  himself  as  a  peasant 
and  passed  through  a  hostile  army  to  visit  his  mistress. 

▼,  ii,  IW.    Savoy's  wife,  the  Infanta  Catherine,  had  died  in  1597. 

V,  ii,  182.  These  presents  were  given  by  Savoy  to  the  King  as  New  Year's 
^ts.  He  also  gave  presents  '  to  all  the  cheefe  in  CoUFt,  who  accepted 
them  with  the  King's  permission  :  only  the  Duke  Biron  refused  the  horses 
that  he  sent  unto  him '  (Grimeston,  p.  88a,  cf.  11.  185-92). 

▼,  U,  197.  These  articles  are  given  in  full  by  Grimeston,  p.  891.  The  sub- 
stance of  the  treaty  was  that  Savoy  mignt  retain  Saluces  by  ceding  the 
district  of  Bresse  to  France. 

▼,  ii,  2L1.    A  peace:  the  peace  concluded  by  the  Treaty  of  Vervins,  1598- 

V,  ii«  241-2.  The  organ  hose,  i.e.  the  padded  trunk-hose  which  came  into 
fashion  in  France  during  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

V,  ii,  258.    God  dild :  a  colloquial  form  for  *  God  yi^ld,  i.e.  reward*. 

BYRON'S  TRAGEDY 
Dramatis  Personab 

The  characters  in  this  play  are  in  the  main  the  same  as  those  of  the  Cm- 
spiracy  ;   a  few  new  figures  are,  however,  introduced. 

The  infant  Danphin,  afterwards  Louis  XIII,  born  September  27,  z6oz. 

The  Spaniih  Ambaandiirt  Taxis. 

Montigny*  a  nobleman  at  whose  lodging  Biron  supped  immediately  before 
his  arrest. 

IVBMniree.  Cajet  (p.  288  b)  calls  him  '  the  intimate  friend  and  servant 
of  the  Marshal ',  i.e.  Buron. 

Harlaf «  AdbJUe  de  Harlay,  First  President  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  one 
of  the  commission  for  the  trial  of  Biron. 

Potier*  Nicolas  Potier,  Second  President  of  the  Parliazneat,  and  CoundUoc 
of  State,  also  a  member  of  the  commission. 

Flenry,  Stephen  de  Fleury,  Councillor  of  the  Parliament,  who  act^  as 
reporter  of  the  process  against  Biron. 

PrftUn,  a  captain  of  the  King's  guard.  He  was  charged  to  arrest  Biron, 
but  exchanged  this  commission  with  Vitry.  (SeeCayet,  p.  29z»  and  Matthieoi 
II,  p.  127.) 

Ea  Brunei.  I  do  not  find  this  name  in  Grimeston,  but  I  believe  it  occurs  in 
Cayet's  Histoire  SepUnaire.  If  so,  it  would  seem  to  show  that  Chapman  may 
have  glanced  at  one  of  the  French  originals  of  Grimeston,  though,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  may  have  got  the  name  from  some  other  contemporary  account. 

A  Bishop.  Gamier,  the  King's  preacher,  afterwards  Bishop  of  MontpeUier, 
attended  Biron  in  the  Bastille,  (jirimeston  (p.  972)  records  that  Biron  was 
also  visited  by  the  Archbishop  of  Bourges  during  the  first  days  ci  his  imprison- 
ment. A  confused  memory  of  this  may  have  caused  Chapman  to  write 
Arch  [bishop]  as  the  name  of  the  speaker  in  V,  iv,  33  and  z7z. 

KademoiieUe  D'Entraffiiei,  Henrietta  de  Balzac,  half-sister  of  the  Duke 
of  Auvergne  and  mistress  of  Henry  IV. 

Onpid.  The  part  of  Cupid  in  this  masque,  which  was  played  at  Court  in 
the  winter  of  1602,  was  taken  by  the  Duke  of  Venddme,  Henry's  son  by 
Gabrielle  D'Estr6es. 

X,  i,  6-19.    This  list  of  dignities  is  taken  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston 

(p.  960),  and  the  speech  of  Janin  (11.  .'20-45)  is  composed  of  hints  and 

phrases  from  the  same  source  (pp.  959-60). 
X»  i,  SL    Fuentes,  commanding  for  the  King  of  Spain  in  liCilan.    He  and  the 

Duke  of  Savoy  were  in  secret  correspondence  with  Biron,  hoping  to 

provoke  a  civil  war  in  France, 


NOTES  611 

1^  i,  08.  To  more  proof :  xxiore  satisfactorily,  in  such  a  way  that  it  will  b6  proof 
against  change. 

I,  i,  74-86.  This  offer  and  Byron's  answer,  both  taken  from  Grimeston, 
p.  959,  belong  to  a  somewhat  earlier  period. 

X,  i,  94-6.  La  Fin's  pretended  pilgrimage  to  Ixvetto,  famous  for  the  Santa 
Casa  brought  by  angels  from  Nazareth  to  Italy,  was  in  reality  a  mission 
on  the  part  of  JBiron  to  consult  with  Savoy  and  Fuentes.  During  this 
mission  Fuentes  conceived  some  doubt  of  La  Fin  and  hinted  to  the  Duke 
of  Savoy  that  it  would  be  well  to  get  rid  of  him.  La  Fin  got  wind  of 
this  and  fled  through  Switzerland  to  France,  where  he  shortly  betrayed 
the  entire  course  of  the  conspiracy  to  Henry. 

X,  i,  97.  A  crystal  that  is  charmed^  i.e.  the  magic  ball  of  crystal  which  reveals 
the  future. 

1^  U  108.  Twelve  set  battles  :  cf.  note  on  Bussy  D*Ambois,  II,  i,  104.  I  do  not 
know  why  Chapman  should  here  speak  of  ten  battles  being  won  for  Henry 
*  without  his  personal  service '.  Henry's  military  skiu  and  personal 
bravery  were  his  most  striking  qualities,  and  at  Coutras,  Arques,  tvryi  and 
Fontaine  Pran^aise — to  mention  no  others — he  played  the  part  of  a 
skilful  goieral  and  a  brave  soldier. 

X,  101-8.  The  nook  is  probably  Navarre,  Henry's  original  kingdom.  The 
king  is  Henry  III  of  France. 

It  I*  11  It  The  incident  of  Henry's  putting  his  sword  into  the  infant  Dauphin's 
hand  is  taken  from  Grimeston,  p.  964 :  '  The  King,  blessing  him,  put  a 
sword  in  his  hand,  to  use  it  to  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  defence  of  his 
Orowne  and  People'.  The  noble  speech  which  follows  these  Unes  is 
enthnely  Chapman's  own,  and  embodies  at  once  a  panegyric  on  Henry 
IV  and  a  prophecy,  not  destined  to  fulfilment,  of  the  deeds  of  Louis  XIII. 

It  it  180.  The  halcyon^s  birth :  a  reference  to  the  legend  of  Alcvone.  After 
her  husband's  death  in  a  shipwreck,  she  so  lamented  him  tnat  the  go<b 
changed  them  both  to  birds  called  halcyons.  During  the  days  that  the 
halcyon  was  breeding  a  perfect  calm  was  supposed  to  prevail  upon  the 
sea.  Ovid  tells  the  story  at  great  length  in  the  Metamorphoses,  and  it 
has  become  a  commonplace  of  poetry : 

Perque  dies  placidos  hibemo  tempore  ufiem 
Inoubat  Alcyone  pendenHbus  aemiore  nuUs 
Turn  via  tuta  maris,  ifentos  custodit  etareet 
Aeolus  egressu,  praestat  nepotibus  aequor, 

Melamorph.  XI,  745-8. 

I»  i  184.    This  line  is  deficient,  or  perhaps  0Qcrupt»inthe  originaL    See  Text 

Notes,  p.  626^  for  a  further  discussion. 
U  U  141--4.    Compare  Caesar  and  Pompey,  II,  iv,  136-42,  a  passage  which 

enables  us  to  restore  the  text  here. 
I,  ii,  8.    Bretagne :    the  reduction  of  Brittany,  whence  the  royal  authority 

had  been  banished  for  about  nine  years,  was  the  last  exploit  of  Henry  Iv 

before  the  concliMion  of  the  treaty  of  Vervins. 
I»  ii,  86.    Camillus  :  the  reference  is  to  his  saving  Rome  after  the  capture  of 

the  city  by  the  Gauls. 
It  Ut  4ft.     Wind :  used  here,  I  think,  in  the  sense  of  spirit ;  for  a  discussion  of 

the  text  see  Text  notes,  p.  626. 
i  ii  64.    AnoHs  that  are  Hn'd  with  wool :  ef.  The  Duchess  of  Malfi,  III,  ii, 

328-30. 

A  politician  is  the  deviTs  quilted  anvil ; 
He  fisshions  aU  sins  on  him,  atut  the  blows 
Are  never  heard. 

The  reference  is  evidently  to  some  method  of  muffling  an  anvil. 
It  ll«  88-6.    These  terms  were  agreed  upon  between  Savoy^  PuenteSi  and  La 
Fin,  as  Biron's  representative,  at  a  conference  reported  by  Grimeston, 
p.  961. 


6i2  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

U  U*  i^-M*  Immediately  before  going  to  the  King  La  Fin  notified  Biroa  that 
be  had  been  summoned  and  requested  instructions  as  to  what  he  should 
say.  Byron's  speeches,  IL  yzSS  and  937-9,  are  built  up  of  phrases  from 
Grimeston,  p.  ^3*^  So  iar  from  following  these  instructions  La  Fin  at 
oooe  betrayed  Biron  to  the  King ;  cL  the  following  scene. 

1^  Itt.  This  scene  represents  the  conlerenoe  at  Fontameblean  after  La  Rn*s 
betrayal  of  Biroo,  at  which  Henry  determined  to  call  the  Duke  to  Court, 
but  in  such  a  manner  that  he  would  not  suspect  the  conspiracy  to  have  ben 
discovert    It  is  largely  built  up  on  hints  and  phrases  from  Grimeston, 

PP-  963t  965-6. 

1^  itt.  f^-t.  These  lines  are  taken  TerbaUy  from  a  later  passage  in  Grimeston, 
p.  970.  Biron's  seal  against  the  Huguenots  was  apparenUy  a  mere  doak 
to  conceal  his  ambitious  designs,  and  to  unite  him  more  closely  with  such 
bigoted  Catholics  as  Fuentes  and  the  Duke  of  Savoy.  The  Chanedlor's 
remarkon  his  Jesting  at  all  religions,  IL  5-6,  rests  upon  a  later  passage  in 
Grimeston.  p.  993  :  '  He  was  oftentimes  seen  to  jest  at  the  Masse,  and  to 
laugh  at  them  ^the  Reformed  Rdigion '. 

X.  itt»  10.-8.  These  lines  are  in  italics  in  the  original  to  call  atteatioa  to  the 
apothegm. 

1^  itt*  64b  My  C<msUM4 :  Henry  Duke  of  Montmorency,  named  Constable  of 
France  by  Henry  IV  in  X393- 

1^  itt*  i^-Ti.  Piseet :  the  papers  revealing  the  oonniiracy.  Grimeston,  p.  963, 
says  :  *  Of  many  papers  whidi  La  Fin  presented  unto  the  King,  they  made 
choJoe  of  37  peeoes  :  which  were  not  those  that  concluded  most  against 
the  Duke  of  Biroo,  but  which  made  mention  onely  of  him,  the  King 
being  unwilling  to  have  the  rest  [iie.  of  the  ooospirators]  discovered,  to 
the  end  that  the  punishment  of  one  might  serve  as  an  example  to  all '. 
This  passage  enable  us  to  restore  tlie  true  teict. 

1^  itt,  Itt.  With  the  exit  of  Janin  comes  the  |^p  in  the  test  alluded  to  in  the 
Introduction  to  these  plays.  There  is  no  saga  of  snchagap  in  the  quartos 
which  continue  with  the  stage  direction  Bntm  Esp$r,  Hc^  except 
that  at  the  dose  of  the  masmie  we  find  Finit  Actm  S^cmuU,  Bvidently 
the  dose  of  the  first  act  and  the  bfiginning  ol  the  second  were  cat  away  by 
the  censor.  M 

n*  i*  •.    Afdm.    See  note  on  Renmgs  of  Bitssy,  III,  ii,  152. 

n.  1*  15-8L  Tketf  imo  Vwtmst :  the  leadhig  ladies  in  the  masque*  Marie  de 
Medid  as  Chastity,  and  Henrietta  D'Entragues  as  Liberality. 

n*  i*  tl-M.  The  description  of  Cupid  sporting  in  a  lady's  bosom  and  lighting 
his  torches  at  her  eyes  inevitably  recalls  the  charming  lyrics  RostUim^s 
Madrigal  and  Rosalindas  Description  in  Lodge's  RostUynd  or  EuMmes* 
GoUUn  Lsgacy.  The  aeooont  of  Cupid*s  playing  for  a  lady's  kisses  and  losmg 
his  arrows  to  her  is  from  Lyly's  best  known  song,  Cupid  and  my  Campmspe, 

n*  i*  Ml  The  shepherd's  flute  of  reeds  invented  by  Pan,  the  god  of  shqpiMrds, 
was  but  a  poor  rustic  instrument  compared  with  the  lyre  of  the  Sui-god, 
Apollo. 

n*  U  48.  Pmrny-prick :  an  old  gambling  game,  mentioned  as  eeriy  as  1422. 
It  seems  to  nave  consisted  of  tossing  pennies,  or  counters,  at  a  mark. 

II*i*i8.    This  fair  nymph  :  Henrietta  D'Entragues. 

n*  i  6S.  Pray  the  press,  eU. :  Masques,  such  as  the  foregoing,  were  often 
given  in  a  room  of  the  palace  packed  with  spectators.  The  press  is  the 
crowd  which  hindered  the  evduuons  of  the  dance.  In  The  GeniUtmm  Usher, 
II,  i,  326,  we  find  the  presenter  of  a  masque  crying  *  a  Hall,  a  Hall  *  to 
obtain  the  necessary  space  for  his  performers. 

n*  L  88-94.  Riddles,  espedally  rid<Ues  with  an  ambiguous  sense,  seem  to  have 
been  very  popular  at  this  time.  A  number  of  tnem  may  be  found  in  Le 
Piaceoolt  NoUi  of  Giovanni  Straparola. 


place  before  the  Masque,  see  U.  18-19,  SS-60,  which  figured  the  reooo. 

1  The  edltioD  of  i5o7  misprints  94  X. 


NOTES  613 

Cilement  ot  the  Queen  and  Heoriette.  In  Bitssy,  lit,  li,  a  somewhat 
similar  riddle  occurs  where  there  is  no  question  of  any  omission. 

n,  1, 110-1.  Son  forma,  etc:  '  It  is  not  the  form  [i.e.  the  bodilv  person]  but 
the  fame  [of  a  good  woman]  that  ought  to  appear  in  public' 

in,  L  I  have  laid  this  scene  at  Dijon,  since  it  represents  the  conversations 
hdd  at  that  place  between  Biron,  D'Escures,  and  Janin  before  the  Duke 
decided  to  obey  the  King's  summons.  The  scene  is  built  up  on  hints  from 
Grimeston,  p.  965-^,  but  a  larger  part  than  usual  is  Chapman's  own. 

m,  i,  fi^.  The  reference  is,  no  douDt,  to  Machiavelli's  Prince,  considered  in 
Chapman's  time  the  compendium  of  all  state-craft. 

m,  U  lO-M.  The  story  of  the  laurel  let  fall  in  Livia's  lap  is  told  by 
Pliny,  who  indudes  a  detail  omitted  bv  Chapman,  that  thu  branch  was 
in  the  bill  of  a  white  hen  which  the  eagle  dropped  unharmed.  The  state- 
ment that  the  tree  which  sprang  from  this  laurel  branch  and  the  race  of 
Augustus  died  out  together  is  Chapman's  own  invention.  So,  of  course, 
is  his  fine  application  of  the  old  story  in  11.  25-42. 

in.  !•  88.  By  Liberty  Chapman  no  doubt  means  the  liberty  of  rebellion  for 
conscience  sake  against  the  royal  pawec,  a  liberty  claimed  by  fanatical 
Catholics  In  France  and  bigoted  Puritans  in  England.  Considering  that 
the  speaker  of  the  words  is  himself  engaged  in  a  conspiracy  against  his 
lawful  King  the  passage  is  curiously  inappropriate.  But  when  Chapman 
had  a  lofty  sentiment  to  utter  he  cared  httle  in  whose  mouth  he  placed  it. 

n^  i»  68-88.  The  speeches  of  D'Escures  and  Bjron's  answer  are  taken  dhrect 
from  Grimeston,  pp.  965-6. 

in,  1, 118-181.  The  speeches  of  La  Brunei  here  and  later  {fL  336-47)  are  taken 
almost  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  966. 

in,  1, 184-8.  '  I  am  not  one  of  those  petty  provincial  nobles  whom  any  king's 
messenger  may  lead  unresisting  to  the  scaffold'. 

III»  If  187-9.  The  blackthorn,  or  sloe,  blossoms  in  earlv  spring  before  its 
leaves  appear.  Possibly  there  is  a  reference  here  to  the  legendary  thorn 
of  Glastonburv,  which  was  said  to  blossom  at  Christmas.  Habington, 
Castara.  II,  A  Dialogue  between  AraphiU  and  Castara,  has  a  passage 
curiously  like  Chapman's : 

Love  shaU  in  thai  tembestuous  showere 

Her  brighUst  blosome  Uke  the  blachHiame  showe : 

Weake  friendship  prospers  by  ths  power 

Of  fortunes  Sunne,    rle  in  her  winter  growe. 

Chapman  himself  repeats  this  simile  In  the  Epistle  Dedicatory  prefixed 
to  his  Crown  of  AU  Homer's  Works,  1624  : 

Like  to  the  hatching  of  the  blaehthom^s  spring. 
With  bitter  frosts  tmd  smarting  hailstorms,  f^rth. 

Poems,  p.  asa 

in,  I,  III8-8.     The  ancient  Bgyptlans  determined  the  exact  length  of  thtf 

year  by  the  heliacal  rising  of  Sirius,  i.e,  the  star's  appearance  before  sunrise. 

This  occurs  in  July,  called  the  Lion's  month,  because  the  sun  then  enters 

the  sim  of  the  Lion  in  the  zodiac. 
in,  i»  ia-8.    Chapman's  translation  of  a  passage  In  the  Odyssey  I,  <3,  seq., 

shows  that  he  held  the  view  that  Atlas  suppcnrted  the  earth  as  well  as  the 

heaven: 

Atlas  .  .  .  stays 
The  two  steep  columns  that  prop  earth  and  heaveti* 

The  reference  to  Alcldes  going  under  the  earth  refers  to  the  time  when 
Hercules  assumed  the  load  of  Atlas. 

Si,  188.    '  To  make  him,  i.e.  the  King,  wait,  i.e.  till  he  sees  me,  Byron '. 
i,  188.    Cf.  Revenge  of  Bussy,  I,  ii,  25. 
m,  i,  178-80.    Cf.  The  Conspiracy,  I,  ii,  145-6. 

m,  i,  184-84    The  reference  is  to  the  King  of  Spain,  his  American  gold  mines, 
and  the  so-called  Invincible  Armada.    Chapman  seems  to  see  a  blas« 


6i4  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

phemous  comparisoa  with  the  Ddty  in  the  Spanish  assumptioa  of  this 
title  which  like  '  omnipotent '  should  be  reserved  for  God.  I  do  not  feel 
fiure  as  to  the  sense  of  11.  190-91 ;  but  I  take  them  to  mean  that  there  is 
but  one  step  in  Spanish  state-craft  from  envy  of  a  person,  or  a  kingdcKn, 
to  the  contriving  of  war  or  murder. 

n^  1,  SOI.    I  do  not  feel  sure  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  laying  ouL 
It  is  evidently  meant  as  an  antithesis  to  bearing,  and  so  may  perhaps 
be  taken  in  the  sense  of  '  struggliDg,  laying  about  one  *. 

m,  U  2S^.  La  Fin  wrote  to  Biron  that  '  he  had  satisfied  the  King  of  all  his 
actions  and  had  said  nothing  but  what  he  thought  might  serve  to  banish 
all  bad  impressions '  (Grimeston,  p.  964).  This  letter  was  '  the  chief 
means  which  induced  Biron  to  come  to  the  King,  since  he  saw  that  La  Fia 
was  returned  to  his  house  contented  and  freed  &om  all  distrust  (Grimeston, 
p.  966  ;  cf.  U.  250-51). 

ni»  I,  S61-6.    B3fron*s  boast  is  taken  direct  from  Grimeston,  p.  966. 

m,  iL  This  scene  represents  the  meeting  between  Biron  and  Henry  IV  at 
Fontainebleau  on  June  13,  1602.  As  usual  it  is  elaborated  from  hints  in 
Grimeston,  some  few  speeches  being  taken  over  verbally  from  that  source. 
Thus  Henry's  first  words  :  He  will  not  come^  1.  31,  are  recorded  as  having 
been  spoken  by  the  King  immediately  before  Biron's  appearance  (Grimeston 
p.  966).  Henry  was  *  wonderfully  grieved  to  see  so  unnatund  a  con- 
spiracie*,  Grimeston,  p.  063.  LL  40-54  also  are  almost  verbal  repco- 
ductioDS  of  a  passage  m  Grimeston,  p.  964. 

m,  ii,  56.  The  mention  of  a  brother,  presumably  Byron's,  in  the  stage  direction, 
is  one  of  the  few  Instances  where  Chapman  seems  to  have  drawn  njpoa 
another  source  than  Grimeston.  Biron  had,  I  think,  no  brother  livmg ; 
the  reference  here  and  in  V,  iv,  231,  Is  to  his  brothers-in-law.  La  Faroe 
and  Saint  Blancart.  Cayet  (p.  292  b)  gives  at  {full  length  La  Force's  plea 
for  mercy  after  the  arrest  of  Biron,  and  Chapman  may  have  heard  that 
he  had  accompanied  Biron  to  this  meeting  with  Henry. 

nif  ii,  6&-4»  Holy  Writ :  see  Matthew  xai,  29.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that 
Chapman  is  as  little  scrupulous  of  accuracy  in  his  biblical  as  m  his  dassical 
allusions.  The  '  son '  ox  the  Bible,  who  said  that  he  would  not  go,  but 
repented  and  went,  has  become  a  '  servant  that  said  he  would  not  come, 
and  yet  he  came '. 

m,  ii,  67.  The  bad  ground:  the  treasonous  correspondence  with  foretga 
enemies  that  lay  breath,  and  was  the  cause  of,  Byron's  contempt  <rf  the 
King's  summons. 

m,  ii,  A.  The  subject  of  Be,  i.e.  '  it  '^  Is  omitted,  as  is  not  infrequently  the 
case  in  Chapman. 

m,  ii,  71-2.    Byron's  haughty  reply  is  taken  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  967. 

ID,  ii,  90.  This  reference  to  the  Prodigal  Son  was  suggested  to  Chapman  by 
a  passage  in  Grimeston  describing  a  meeting  between  Biron  and  the  King 
shortly  after  Biron's  confession  and  pardon,  when  Henry  received  him 
'  as  the  father  doth  his  lost  child  whom  he  hath  found  again '.  .- 

m,  ii,  128-61.  The  mention  of  the  tennis  match,  Epernon's  sarcasm  on 
Byron's  choice  of  partners,  and  his  comment  on  the  Duke's  rashness  in 
coming  to  Court,  are  all  from  Grimeston,  where  they  appear^  though  not 
in  the  same  order,  on  p.  967. 

IV,  1.  This  scene  is  mainly  original.  An  occasional  borrowing  from  Gnmestco 
will  be  pointed  out. 

IV,  1, 1-24.  With  this  philippic  against  the  base  fruits  of  a  setUed  peace,  cf.  a 
similar  outbreak  in  The  Rev^en^e  of  Bussy,  I,  i,  32-60.  It  is  probable 
that  they  express  Chapman's  view  of  the  degeneration  of  England  under 
the  peaceful  rule  of  Jame^  I.  Professor  Koeppel  {loc,  cit.)  sees  a  dose 
resemblance  between  this  speech,  especially  II.  8-ip,  and  the  famovs 
speech  of  Ulysses  on  *  degree'  in  Troilus  and  Cresstda,  I,  iii,  83,  seq. 
The  verbal  likeness,  however,  is  hardly  close  enough  to  point  to  an  imita- 
tion by  Chapman,  and  the  underlying  ideas  of  the  two  speeches  are  quite 
different.  Professor  Koeppel  also  thinks  that  the  situation  indioated  in 
U.  25-36  is  a  reminiscence  of  TroUus  and  Cressida,  HI,  iiL    Biit  it  is  more 


NOTES  615 

probably  taken  from  Grimeston^  p.  967.  Between  his  first  interview  with 
Henry  and  his  arrest  Biron  noticed  that  '  he  was  not  respected  as  he  was 
wont  to  be,  and  that  he  was  no  more  in  opinion  and  admiration  as  he  had 
bin  *.  The  incident,  U.  90-3,  is  certainly  from  Grimeston,  p.  967,  Henry 
'retired  into  his  cabinet,  commanding  two  or  three  to  enter,  and  said 
nothing  to  the  Duke  of  Biron '.  There  is,  as  Koeppel  points  out,  a 
verbal  likeness  between  '  the  wallet  of  their  faults  ',  1. 36,  and  the  '  wallet 
at  Time's  back '  (T.  and  C.  Ill,  iii,  145) ;  but  the  original  of  both  is 
Phaedrus,  Fablest  IV,  10. 

IVt  i*  87'66>  The  interview  between  Soissons  and  Byron  is  mentioned  by 
Qnmeston,jp.  967,  whence  11.  55-6  are  taken  almost  verbally. 

IT»  ]« 47-9.  Their  impair,  i.e.  the  loss  of  Byroa*s  reputation  as  a  virtuous  subject, 
in  case  his  treason  became  public,  would  discourage  all  men  from  favouring 
or  trusting  such  natural  qualities  as  his. 

IV»  i»  82.  Stypan  flood,  flood  of  hate,  with  reference  to  the  hate  which  Byron 
assumes  has  moved  his  enemies  to  denounce  him  to  the  King. 

IT,  i,  M.    Cf.  the  note  on  Bttssy,  I,  i,  86^. 

IT,  I,  94-liN(.    This  conversation  is  expanded  from  Grimeston,  p'968. 

IT»  i»  US-80.  These  portents  are  from  Grimeston,  p.  966.  The  duck  is 
a  curious  mistake  of  Grimeston*s»  followed  by  Chapman.  The  original 
{MaUhieu,  vol.  a,  p  123)  has  *  un  oyseau  qu^on  lappeUe  Dae  *.  But  the 
*  Due '  is  a  sort  of  owl^  a  much  more  likely  bird  of  ill  omen  than  a  wild 
duck.  The  suggestion  m  Fumivall*s  Fresh  Allusions  to  Shakespeare,  p.  49 
that  the  madni^  and  death  of  Byron's  horses  may  be  drawn  from  the 
account  of  Duncan's  horses  in  Macbeth,  II,  iv,  14-9,  is  untenable  since 
Chapman  is  here  borrowing  from  Grimeston* 

IT,  i,  12s.    Left  your  strengOi :  left  your  strong  position  on  the  frontier  to 

?o  to  the  King. 
,  128.    Vimy,  a  little  town  in  North-eastern  France  near  Arras. 

IT,  i,  140.    By  conversion :  conversely. 

IT,  iL  Thi^  scene,  describing  the  events  immediately  preceding  Biron's 
arrest  and  the  arrest  itself,  is  largely  dependent  upon  Grimeston.  Chap" 
man,  however,  does  not  follow  the  historian's  order,  but  arranges  his 
borrowings  to  suit  his  own  purposes.  Henry's  first  speech,  for  example, 
is  taken  n-om  Grimeston,  p.  970,  where  it  occurs  after  Biron's  arrest,  while 
the  allusion  in  L  30  to  Alexander  and  Parmenio  occurs  in  Grimeston  on 
p.  968  before  the  arrest. 

IT,  ii«  16.    Marshal,  pronounced  here  as  a  word  of  three  syllables. 

IT,  ii»  80.  Parmenio :  the  Latixuzed  form  of  Parmenion,  a  Macedonian  general 
under  Philip  and  Alexander  the  Great.  His  son  Philotas  was  accused  of 
being  privy  to  a  plot  against  Alexander,  and  under  torture  let  drop  hints 
which  seemed  to  implicate  his  father.  Alexander  thereupon  put  Par- 
menion to  death  without  trial.  It  is  to  this  summary  execution  of  an  old 
soldier  and  friend  of  the  King  that  the  line  alludes.  Apparently  some  such 
summary  method  of  iirocednire  was  suggested  to  Henry  IV  in  Biron's 
case,  and  rejected  by  him,  for  U.  31-47  are  taken  straight  from  Grimeston, 
p.  068. 

IT,  li,  48.  The  devilish  heads  of  treason :  '  power  and  authority  to  roote  out 
by  the  forme  of  Justice,  not  the  Authors  of  such  a  Conspirade,  for  they  be 
Devils,  but  the  Complices  and  instruments  *,  Grimeston,  p.  968. 

IT,  ii,  88-88.  This  fine  speech  is  essentially  Chapman's  own.  There  is  no 
hmt  of  it  in  Grimeston,  except  the  statement  that  Henry  prayed  to  God  to 
assist  him  with  His  Holy  Spirit,  p.  969. 

IT,  ii,  91-200.  In  this  passage  Chapman  has  combined  two  incidents  imme- 
diately preceding  Biron's  arrest,  his  supper  at  the  lodging  of  Montigny, 
where  he  praised  the  late  King  of  Spain  and  was  startled  by  Montigny's 
reply  (cf.  11.  x  15-64),  and  his  game  of  cards  in  the  Queen's  chamber  with 
its  interrui>tions,  11. 91-5  and  1 97-9.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  Chapman's 
love  of  flying  contrary  to  the  opinions  of  his  countr3rmen  has  led  him  to 
expand  the  few  words  of  Biron's  eulogy  of  Philip  II  as  given  in  Grimeston 
Into'a  formal  panegyric  Compare  also  Germont^s  apology  for  the  Massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew  in  the  Revenge  of  Bussy,  II,  i,  199-234. 


6l6  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

IV,  U,  94  You  four.  '  There  played  at  Primero  the  Qneene,  the  Duke  d 
Bircm,  and  two  others '.  Grimeston,  p.  969. 

Primero :  an  old,  and  once  very  popidar  game  of  cards.  Shakespeare 
represents  Henry  VIII  playing  at  primero  (/f  *».  VIII,  V,  i,  7)*  An  acooont 
of  the  game  is  given  in  Strutt,  Sports  and  PastimeSf  Book  IV,  chap.  II,  }  24. 

IV,  iif  98-100, 107.  With  the  i)uns  on  card  terms  in  these  lines  compare  the 
scene  in  A  Woman  Killed  with  Kindness,  III,  ii,  where  there  occurs  a  long 
sequence  of  puns  on  the  names  of  card  games  and  on  terms  used  therein. 

IV,  ii,  110.  Mortality :  the  word  must  be  taken  here  in  the  sense  of  human 
life,  or  human  nature.    But  cf.  Text  Notes,  p.  627. 

IV,  ii,  IflHI.  '  He  fel  to  commend  the  deceased  King  of  Spatne,  his  Piety, 
Justice,  and  Liberality  *,  Grimeston,  p.  968. 

IT,  ii,  194.  The  little  .  .  .  Macedon:  Alexander  the  Great,  called 'little 'on 
account  of  his  short  stature.  The  eulogy  which  follows^  U.  125-132,  is 
from  Plutarch,  De  Alexandri  Magni  Fortuna  aut  Virtuts,  I,  v.  I  quote  the 
Latin  text : 

Alexandri  doctrinam  si inspicias,  Hyrcanos  docuit  confugiis  uH  :  Arachosios 
agricuUuram :  Sogdiants  perstiasit,  ut  alerent,  mm  interfieereni,  patrts  : 
Persas  ut  venerarentur,  non  uxorum  loco  haberent,  moires.  O  admnrahiUm 
philosophiam  /  quae  fecit,  ut  Indi  deos  Graecorum  colerent,  et  Scyiha  mortuos 
numarenL  non,  ut  ante,  comederent. 

IT,  ii,  149-50.  Adapted  from  the  eulogy  of  Alexander  in  Plutarch  Z)«  Alex, 
Mag.  etc.,  Oratio  II,  xi.  "  Certamen,  cujus  finis  esset  non  aurum  db'iHmumeris 
circumferendum  camelis,  non  luxus  Medicus,  mensae  et  muUeres,  neqiu 
vinum  Chalybonium  aut  Hyrcanici  pisces:  sed  ut  omnes  homines  in 
unam  reipublica  consHtutionem  redigens,  omnes  uni  principatui  subditos, 
uni  vita  raHont  assuefaceret. 

Chalybonian  wine  was  the  chosen  drink  of  the  King  of  Persia.  Holland, 
in  his  translation  of  Plutarch's  Morals  (p.  1283,  ecStion  1603)  speaks  in 
this  passage  of  *  the  good  and  pleasant  wines  of  Caljrdonia  .  The  text 
used  by  Holland  and  Chapman  must  have  read  Calydonium. 

IV,  ii,  156-89.  '  The  greatest  commendation  they  ooiild  give  unto  his  memory 
[Philip  the  Second^sX  was  to  have  put  his  owne  Sonne  to  death  for  that 
ne  had  attempted  to  trouble  his  Estates  ',  Grimeston,  p.  968.  The  refer- 
ence, of  course,  is  to  Don  Carlos,  the  oldest  son  of  Phiup,  who  died  in  the 
prison  to  which  his  father  had  committed  liim.  It  was  generally  believed 
that  he  had  been  executed  there  by  his  father's  orders,  urimeston,  p.  &33, 
sa3rs  he  was  strangled  with  a  cord  of  silk. 

IV,  ii,  106-70.  These  lines,  with  the  exception  of  the  first,  are  a  translation 
of  Seneca,  Oedipus,  504-8: 

Lucida  dum  cumnt  annosi  sidera  rnunO, 
Oceamts  clausum  dum  fluctibus  ambiet  orbem 
Lunmque  dimissos  dum  plena  reeoUiget  ignes, 
Dum  matuHnos  praedicet  Lucifer  ortus 
Altaque  caeruhtm  dum  Nerea  nesdet  Arctos* 

The  word  sidera  in  the  first  line  of  this  passage  probably  suggested  to 
Chapman  the  idea  of  Atlas,  who  bears  the  starry  heavens.  The  epithet 
learned  is  best  explained  by  Chapman's  own  note  in  his  translation  ol  the 
Odyssey^  I,  52,  ssq. :  '  In  this  place  is  Atlas  given  the  epithet  If^U^pmw, 
which  signifies  qui  universa  mente  agitat,  here  given  him  rar  the  power  the 
stars  have  in  all  things '.  Hence,  I  suppose,  learned  as  knowing  the 
secrets  of  the  stars. 

IV.;  ii,  179-96.  Henry's  appeal  to  D'Auvergne  is  based  upon  the  brief  state- 
ment of  Grimeston,  p.  969,  that  the  Count  had  retired,  but  Henry  sent  fee 
him,  and  '  walked  up  and  down  the  chamber,  whilst  the  Duke  of  Biron 
drempt  of  nothing  but  his  same  '. 

IV,  ii,  196-901.  '  Varennes,  Lieutenant  of  his  [Biron's]  company,  making  a 
shewe  to  take  up  his  Qoake,  told  him  in  his  eare,  That  he  was  uetdon,  lids 
word  troubled  him  so  as  he  neglected  his  game,  llie  Queene  observed  it, 
and  told  him  *  That  he  had  misreckoned  himselfe  to  hts  owne  losse.'    The 


NOTES  617 

King  said :  That  they  had  plaid  ynough,  commandmg  somy  mam  ia  nHrn. ' 

Grimestoor  p.  969. 
IT,  ii,  Ml-88.    This  last  appeal  of  the  King  to  Byron  to  confess  is  expanded 

by  Chapman  trom  the  brief  account  in  Grimeston,  p.  969,  of  Henry's  final 

interview  with  the  Dnke  in  his  cabinet. 
IT>  ii,  Mh^    As  Ctmliffe  {he,  cU.,  pp.  96-7)  bas  pointed  out  this  speech  is 

adapted  from  Seneca,  Otdipus : 

Odwe  ng$s  dida  quae  did  fubetU* 

L530. 
and 

Uhi  tufpis  est  medicina,  sanari  piget. 

1.  5X7* 

IT,  Ii  289-40.  Biron  was  arrested  by  Vitry  as  he  came  out  of  the  Klng'a 
cabinet  after  the  interview  mentioned  above.  Byron's  speech,  IL  230-^, 
is  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  969,  as  is  his  followhig  speech, 
U.  34Z-9. 

IV>  ii,  HO-49.  This  re-entry,  with  the  following  speech  of  Henry's,  appears 
to  be  Chapman's  own  invention.  In  reality  Henry  never  saw  his  old 
friend  and  treacherous  subject  again  after  bidding  him  good-night  in  his 
cabinet.  I  cannot  say  that  I  think  Chapman  has  improved  the  story  by 
this  insertion.  Henry's  speech  is  at  once  too  violent  in  its  abuse  of  Byron 
and  too  lavish  in  sell-praise,  as  Chapman  himself  seems  to  have  noticed ; 
vid.  U.  263-5. 

n,  U,  868.  The  itUeUigencing  lights :  the  stars  which  govern  men's  destinies. 
In  the  word  inteUtgrndng  is  implied  the  sense  of  '  spying  out ',  *  in- 
forming ',  which  is  further  brought  out  in  the  next  lines.  Cz.  the  phrase 
'  intelligenctng  ears  ',  WhiU  Deutl,  III,  ii,  228. 

IV,  ilt  87lL  Biron  was  detained  in  the  Cabinet  of  Arms  in  the  Castle  of  Fon- 
tainebleau  for  a  day  or  two  until  he  was  sent  to  the  Bastille. 

IV,  U,  2I8SL  Byron  caUs  his  captors  the  slavish  instruments  of  the  stars  which 
have  doomed  him  to  this  fate.  In  the  next  breath  he  wishes  that  he  might 
dragdown  and  trample  out  the  stars. 

IV,  U,  880.  Biron  actuallv  used  these  words  as  he  was  being  led  away, 
i^parently  with  the  wish  to  create  sympathy  for  himself,  as  ifsufiering  on 
account  of  his  zeal  for  the  Catholic  laith. 

IV,  U,  894.  Shows  in  this  line  I  take  to  mean  pageants,  painted  scenes,  such 
as  were  used  in  Masques  at  Court ;  overthrow,  then,  must  have  an  intransi- 
tive sense,  i.e.  fall.    See  further,  Text  Notes,  p.  627. 

IV,  U,  89O-808.  This  flippant  speech  of  D'Auvergne's  is  taken  verbally  from 
Grimeston,  p.  969.  Tne  Count  probably  felt  sure  that  his  royal  blood  and 
his  influence  with  Henry  through  Henriette  D'Entragues  would  secure 
him  against  the  heaviest  consequences  of  his  crime. 

V,  1.  This  scene  is  composed  of  the  account  ^ven  in  Grimeston  (pp.  970-2)  of 
Henry's  interview  with  Taxis,  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  oi  the  reports 
spread  abroad  about  Biron's  arrest,  and  of  the  different  behaviour  of  the 
two  prisoners.  As  usual  Chapman  has  retained  many  words  and  phrases 
of  hb  source. 

Vf  U  8-7.    Count  Maurice:  Maurice  of  Nassau,  son  of  William  the  Silent. 

Osiend:  the  siege  of  Ostend,  1601-4,  was,  perhaps,  the  most  famous  in 

an  age  of  sieves.    It  was  finally  taken  by  the  Si)anish  under  the  Archduke 

Albcart,  as  the  attempt  of  Maurice  to  relieve  it,  mentioned  in  1.  7,  was 

unsuccessful. 
V,  i,  81-8.    The  newly- won  povinces  of  Bresse  and  Burgundy  were  supposed 

to  be  full  of  Biron's  friends.    They  submitted,  however,  to  the  King 

without  a  struggle. 
V,  1, 801    Professor  Koeppd  {loc.  cit.)  declares  that  Chapman  has  made  a 

geographical  blunder  here  in  mistaking  the  Rh6ne  for  a  place,  or  town. 

But  it  is  hardlv  possible  that  Chapman  was  unaware  that  the  Rhdne,  so 

famous  in  classical  as  well  as  modem  times,  was  a  river.    I  fancy  that 


6i8  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

Chapman's  tise  of  the  phrase  ihs  twer  that  runs  hy  Rhosne,  instead  of 

Grimeston*s '  the  River  of  Rhosne'»  was  simply  due  to  a  desire  to  fill  out  a  line. 
▼f  U  I7--47.    These  lines  are  taken  directly  from  Grimeston,  p.  971 ;  the  ret 

oi  the  speech,  except  IL  66-8  is  Chapman's  conunent  on  the  situation. 
▼t  i*  76.    iome  give  out :  not  some  despatches  <1. 71 ).  but  some  false  rumours  as 

to  the  cause  of  Byron's  arrest.    By  religion,  1.  76,  is  meant,  of  course,  the 

Catholic  religion. 
V,  i»  82.    Chapman  takes  the  phrase  to  break  the  javelins  from  Grimeston, 

6970,  who  in  turn  gets  it  mm  Matthieu  (vol.  2,  p.  129  b).  But  where 
atthieu  and  Grimeston  use  the  phrase  Fun  apres  VaiUre, '  one  after  another ' 
(referring  perhaps  to  the  old  fable  of  breaking  the  sticks  separately  which 
could  not  DC  broken  when  united  in  a  fagot),  Chapman  has  both  together, 
referring  as  Koeppel  points  out  to  the  simultaneous  arrest  of  Byron  and 
D'Auvergne.  This  perversion  of  the  original  together  with  the  insertion  of 
the  epithet  sacred  (see  Text  Notes  p.  627)  has  obscured  the  sense  of  the  passage. 

Tf  !•  90.    I  do  not  find  in  Grimeston  that  the  Peers  refused  to  appear ;  they 
'  were  summoned,  but  did  not  come,  and  the  trial  was  held  by  commission 
without  them,  Grimeston,  p.  973-4- 

▼,  i»  101-7.  These  lines  are  from  Grimeston,  p.  971.  '  The  Count  D'Auvergne 
was  merry  and  dined.  The  Duke  of  Biron  entered  into  the  Bastille  as 
into  a  grave.  The  Count  of  Auvergne  went  as  to  the  Louvre,  and  imagined 
the  place  where  he  should  be  could  not  be  a  prison  ',  and  p.  072,  *  He 
[Biron]  spent  the  first  days  of  his  imprisonment  without  eating  or  sleeping  *. 
The  fine  simile  of  the  wild  bird,  11.  1x8-26,  is  Chapman's  own;  but  the 
dose  of  the  speech  is'  again  from  Grimeston,  p.  972  :  *  they  should  not 
bragge  they  had  made  him  to  f eare  death :  that  they  should  speedily 
drinke  themselves  drunke  with  the  bloud  wnich  remained  of  thirty  and 
five  woundes,  which  he  had  received  for  the  service  of  France '. 

V,  fL  This  long  scene  is  closely  founded  upon  the  account  of  Biron's  trial 
in  Grimeston,  pp.  974-9.  It  would  take  too  much  space  to  quote  all 
Chapman's  borrowings ;  but  some  of  the  most  striking  may  be  noted  as 
thev  occur. 

V»  ii«  0.  The  Marquis  of  Rosny  :  Henry's  famous  councillor,  better  known 
as  the  Duke  of  Sull^.  There  is  curiously  little  said  of  him  in  the  source, 
Matthieu,  from  which  Chapman's  account  of  Biron's  fall  is  taken,  but 
his  own  Memoirs  throw  an  mteresting  light  upon  these  events. 

Y,  ii«  84-4S.  This  speech  is  taken  from  Grimeston,  where  it  appears  as  the 
comment  of  the  author,  Matthieu,  upon  Biron's  situation,  not  as  the 
Duke's  own  words. 

y,  ii,  41.    The  bloody  cassocks :  Le.  the  scarlet  uniforms  of  Spanish  soldiers. 

▼»  11,  46.  These  five  principal  charges  as  rehearsed  in  the  following  lines  are 
taken  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  975. 

▼»  lit  ttL  St.  Katherine's  fort:  a  stronghold  in  Savoy,  two  leagues  from 
Geneva.    It  was  taken  by  Henry  IV  in  the  war  of  1600. 

▼•  a,  07-107.  Byron's  answer  to  the  charges  is  also  taken  directly  firom 
Grimeston,  pp.  975-6. 

▼•  U.  72.  La  Fortune,  a  soldier  in  the  civil  wars  of  France  who  seized  on  the 
town  of  Seuire  in  Burgundy  and  held  it,  nominally  for  the  League,  against 
all  attacks.  Biron  concluded  a  six  years'  truce  with  him,  and  after  the 
Treaty  of  Vervins  he  was  induced  to  surrender  the  town  to  the  King. 

▼•  ii,  80.    Im  Force,  Biron's  brother-in-law.    See  note  on  III,  u,  56. 

V,  ii,  107-12.    This  passage  is  taken  directly  from  Grimeston,  p.  976. 

V,  ii,  118-0.  This  question  and  answer  are  taken  from  Grimeston,  p,  973, 
where  Biron  is  represented  as  being  confronted  with  his  accuser  before 
the  formal  trial. 

▼,  ii,141.    TheisU:  Great  Britain. 

V,  ii,  168-08.  The  charge  of  witchcraft  which  Byron  uttered  against  La  Fin, 
probably  with  a  vain  hope  of  discrediting  his  accuser,  is  given  in  full  by 
Grimeston,  p.  976.  The  phrase  He  bit  me  by  the  ear,  1.  161,  occurs  later 
in  (kimeston,  p.  985,  and  represents  the  original  French,  *  me  mordoU 
Voreille '  (Matthieu,  vol.  2,  p.  156).    This  phrase,  according  to  Cot^rave, 


NOTES  619 


means  *  as  much  as  flaUer  ou  caresset  ndgnonmetU,  wherein  the  biting  ol  the 
ear  is,  with  some,  an  usual  Action '. 

Vf  lit  178*  AngeL  Chapman  uses  the  word  here  as  elsewhere  to  denote  the 
good  genius  of  a  man,  rather,  I  think,  in  the  classical,  than  in  the  Christian 
sense* 

▼»  ii»  178-871«  Byron's  long  speech  in  his  own  defence  is  a  cnrioiis  mosaic 
of  bits  hod^  Gnmeston,  reminiscences  of  Chapman's  classical  reading,  and 
original  lines.  The  passage  II.  306*29  is  from  Biron's  speech  in  Gnmeston, 
p.  977.  The  catalogue  of  Pompey's  victories,  IL  234-47t  is  taken  direct 
from  Plutarch,  DeForUina  Romanorunh  xx'<  LL  25o-"6o  are  an  ezpansioD 
of  the  opening  sentence  of  Biron's  speech  in  Grimeston. 

Yf  ii*  226.  De  Vic  and  Sillery  were  joined  with  Biron  in  an  embassy  to  Swit- 
zerland early  in  1602  to  renew  the  old  league  between  that  country  and 
France. 

V»  ii*  266-0.  The  reference  is  to  the  attack  on  the  Pailiament  of  Paris  by 
the  fanatical  Leaguers  of  the  Ssiu  in  1591,  when  the  President  and  two 
councillors  were  summarily  executed*  The  Parliament  was  re>established 
by  Heniy  IV  on  his  entry  into  Paris  in  1594,  and  Byron  here  arrogates 
to  himseu  the  credit. of  this  fact. 

Vt  ii»  272-4.  Biron  was  allowed  to  speak  at  such  length  that  the  judges 
had  not  time  to  prooounce  their  opinions  that  day,  but  were  obliged  to 
send  him  back  to  the  Bastille  unsentenced. 

Yt  ii»  271^-206.  This  speech  is  based  upon  the  long  report  given  in  Grimeston, 
pp.  979-83,  of  the  arguments  adduced  by  the  judges  for  the  death  of  Biron. 
The  allusion  to  ManUua,  11.  292--4,  and  to  the  Scotch  Guard  of  Lottis  XI, 
U.  300-^4,  are  both  in  the  original,  adong  with  many  other  dasdcal,  historical, 
and  scriptural  allusions  which  Chaiiman  has  mercifully  spared  us. 

Y»  Ui.  This  scene,  like  the  fdUowing,  is  based  upon  Grimeston's  report  of  the 
last  days  of  Biron's  imprisonment  and  of  his  execution,  pp.  979-91. 
Chapman  follows  his  source— ultimately  Matthieu's  detailed  account — viry 
closely,  but  introduces  in  his  usual  fashion  classical  borrowings  and  com- 
ments of  his  own. 

▼•  iiif  1-40.  Byron's  vain  hope  that  he  had  been  acquitted  and  his  boast 
as  to  his  speech  before  the  Court  come  from  Grimeston,  p.  979  :  '  he  ooo- 
celved  .  .  .  that  he  had  answered  the  Chancellor  to  aU  his  demands  and 
had  moved  some  of  his  judges  to  lament  his  misfortune,  many  .to  detest 
his  accuser  .  .  .  adding  that  he  did  imagine  he  saw  the  Chancellor's 
countenance  going  out  of  the  great  Chamber.  He  did  counterfet  him 
in  the  stayednesse  and  the  gravity  of  his  words  .  .  .  imagining  .that  he 
spake^in  this  manner,  BehMawicktd.  MaUf  he  is  dangerous  in.  the  State, 
we  must  dispatch  Mm,  he  deserves  death.  Which  words  never  came  out 
of  his  mouth  [cf.  L  33]  ...  He  thought  not  to  die,  saving  that  ikey  could 
not  supplie  his  place,  if  he  were  dead,  .  •  ,  Sometimes  he  would  sav,  Is  it 
possible  the  King  should  bee  so  vainCy  as  to  make  him  to  apprehend  death, 
and  to  think  to  terrifie  him  therewithal '. 

Y,  iii,  18-4.  With  this  comparison  of  the  cedar  and  the  box^ee,  cf .  Sir  Giles 
Gooseoap,  III,  ii,  zoo-3.  Chapman  here,  as  in  Bussy,  IV,  i,  91,  uses  the 
box-tree  as  a  metaphor  for  a  low  estate  or  plaoe. 

▼»  iii*  17.    The  budget :  probably,  with  a  reference  to  the  hanginan's  bag. 

Y,  iii*  86-6.  '  At  the  King's  bidding  the  rough  thunder  folds  his  wings  and 
becomes  as  smooth  as  painted  glass.' 

▼,  Ui,  88.  Bacon,  Apothegms,  No.  363,  '  Democritus  said  that  truth  did  lie  in 
profound  pits ' .  CI  Chapman's  Epistle  Dedicatory,  prefixed  to  his  translation 
of  the  Odyssey: 

Truth  dwells  in  gulfs,  whose  deeps  hide  shades  so  rich 

That  night  sits  muffled  there  in  clouds  of  pitch, 

More  darh  than  Nature  made  her.  Poems,  p.  238. 

▼,  iii,  78.  The  old  texts  give  this  line  to  Sisfier\  i.e.  Biron's  sister.  But 
neither  of  his  sisters  were  in  or  near  the-  Bastille  on  the  day  of  his  death 


620  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OP  BYRON 

Grimeston,  p.  963,  foUowing  Hatthieu,  says  that  Biroii  heard  '  the  cries 
and  Umeatatioos  of  a  woixian '  and  thought  they  wece  lor  him.  Cayet 
(p.  508  b)  says :  '  la  DamoiseUe  feoune  de  Rumigny  [ooncierge  of  tha 
Bastille]  se  prist  a  pleurer  les  mains  joinctes '. 

▼,  iii,  74-78.  These  lines  oootain  an  incident  that  occurred  on  the  day 
before ;  see  Grimestoo,  p.  983.  Biroa  saw  from  his  prison  window  '  a 
great  multitude  of  Parisians  about  St.  Anthanie*s  gate '  and  believed  they 
came  to  see  his  ^ecntion.  A  lieutenant  of  the  guard  told  him  it  was  to 
see  oertain  gentlemen  flght. 

▼»  iil»  79^-ttL  This  question  and  answer  occur  in  Gcimeston,  pp.  993-4,  after 
the  account  of  Biron's  death  and  in  immediate  ooonesdcn  with  the  story 
of  the  Duke's  visit  to  La  Brosse :  '  He  had  conlerenoe  with  one  Caesari 
who  was  a  magldan  at  Paris,  who  told  him,  tiuU  imly  a  baeh-blam  0/  ike 
Bourguigmm  would  keepe  him  from  being  a  Ktng,  He  remembered  this  pre- 
diction beeina  a  Prisoner  in  the  Bastille,  and  intreated  one  that  went  to 
visit  him,  to  leame  if  the  Executioner  ai  Paris  were  a  Bomgmignon,  and 
having  found  it  so^  he  said,  I  am  a  dead  man\ 

▼t  m^  Vi-VL  Biron  saw  from  bis  window  the  Chancellor  crossing  the  court- 
yard of  the  Bastille,  and  realizing  that  he  had  come  to  brmg  him  the 
death-sentence  cried  out  the  words  which  Chapmen  here  reports.  *  When 
Biron  was  brought  before  the  Chancellor  in  the  chap^  of  the  prison  he 
cried  out  afar  off:  Oh^  my LordChanceUor,  is  ^tere  no  pardon?  is  there  no 
mercy  ?i  The  Chancellor  saluted  him  and  put  on  his  hat '.  Grimeston, 
p.  983. 

V,  m,  fMf-lOO.  '  The  Duke  of  Biron  .  •  •  turned  towards  the  ChanoeUor,  and 
shaking  him  by  the  arme,  sayd,  You  have  judged  me  and  God  wiU  ahsoive 
me,  hee  ariU  lay  open  their  in$^ities  t^Ueh  hnoe  shut  their  eyes  became  they 
wouid  not  see  mine  innoceney  ;  you,  my  Lord,  shatl  answere  for  this  injustice 
before  him,  whether  I  do  sommon  you  within  a  yeare  and  a  day,  I  go  before 
by  the  judgement  of  mtn,  but  those  that  are  the  canse  of  my  death  shall  come 
after  by  the  judgement  of  God  ....  But  the  Duke  of  Ettron's  assignation 
was  vaine,  for  the  Chancellor  appeared  not,  but  hath  bin  more  healthful 
since  then  before'.    Grimeston,  p.  963. 

▼»  Hit  107-81.  These  speeches  also  are  taken  from  Grimeston,  where  Harla/s 
words,  IL  1x7-25,  are  given  to  the  Chancellor. 

Vt  Hi,  IM.  Byron  addressed  this  question  to  Roissy,  Master  of  Requests,  a 
character  who  does  not  appear  m  Chapman's  play.  Roissy  reified,  '  My 
Lord,  I  pray  God  to  oomiort  you  '•  This  explains  the  sense  of  orator  in 
1.  X3X> 

▼,  lii»  188-47.    This  speech  is  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  984. 

▼»  ill,  lil«84.  This  speech  is  also  based  upon  Grimeston,  piK  984-5,  but 
does  not  follow  him  so  closely  as  the  preceding.  The  ailusioos  to  the 
conspiracy  at  Mantes,  the  sie^  of  Amiens,  and  to  the  loss  oi  a  good  servant 
to  franoe  and  an  enemy  to  Spain  in  his  death,  all  occur  in  the  original. 
The  curious  phrase,  Aoi  Mm  ^  wo^to  fly  upon  hss  bosom,  11.  z6o-x,i8ttotin 
Grimeston,  nor  is  there  anything  in  Matthieu  or  Cayet  to  suggest  it.  It 
appears  to  be  a  distortion  of  the  old  saying  about  bedding  a  wolf  by  the 
ears.  Byron's  exit  after  this  speech  is  not  marked  in  the  Qq.,  but  it  is 
more  probable  that  he  should  go  out  after  1.  X64  than  remain  on  the  stage 
silent  to  the  end  of  the  scene. 

▼»  iii»  188-8.  Another  version  of  these  lines  in  found  in  Chapman's  poem, 
The  Tears  of  Peace: 

And  then  they  have  no  strength  but  weakens  them. 

No  greatness  but  doth  crush  them  into  stream^ 

No  liberty  but  turns  into  their  snare. 

Their  learnings  then  do  light  them  but  to  err* 

Theif  ornaments  are  burthens,  their  delights 

Are  mercenary  servile  parasites, 

Betraying,  laughing ;  fiends  that  raised  in  fears 

At  parting  shake  their  roofs  about  their  eon. 

PoemSt  p.  Z30. 


NOTES  621 

I  would  venture  the  suggestion  that  these  Unes^  though  not  published 
till  1609,  represent  the  first  draft  of  the  passage  in  the  play. 

Y,  iii*  199-M4.  The  obscure  comparison  between  Virtue  and  Fortune  in  these 
lines  may  be  interpreted  as  follows :  The  cifts  of  Virtues  ie.  the  noble 
qualities  of  Byron,  have  deserted  him  in  his  utmost  need.  Virtue,  who 
was  wont  to  help  men  in  necessity,  and  to  love  men  who  were  despised  by 
the  world,  is  now  unmoved  by  B3Ton*s  necessity  or  the  disgrace  into  which 
he  has  fallen.    It  is  possible  that  the  text  is  corrupt  here. 

V,  iii»  887-40.  Byron  s  fury  at  the  news  of  his  approaching  execution 
frightened  the  executioner  out  of  his  usual  impudence  into  more  decent 
behaviour,  new  habits.  By  habitual  horror  we  must,  I  think,  understand 
'  mental,  subjective,  alarm ' ;  the  word  is  used,  no  doubt,  for  the  sake  of 
a  play  with  habits  in  the  preceding  line.  Grimeston,  p.  987,  records  that 
the  executioner  said  afterwards  that  a  young  and  inexperiesioed  hangman 
would  have  died  for  fear. 

V,  if K 1-17.  This  conversation  comes  from  Grimeston,  p.  987^  where,  however, 
other  speakers  are  introduced. 

▼t  It,  84-8.  These  lines  reappear  with  very  slight  changes  in  The  Tears  of 
Peace  {Poems,  p.  104).  llie  image  in  the  last  line  of  the  passage  is  illus- 
trated by  a  passage  in  Bussy,  V,  C  1x5-7. 

V,  It,  48.  r  or  the  onginal  text  and  the  emendations  proposed  see  Text  Notes, 
p.  628. 1  interpret  the  emended  line, '  I,  being  something  larger  than  a  globe 
(map  of  the  earth)  and  yet  a  microcosm  (or  epitome  of  the  universe) '. 

V,  if,  U-4.  '  Praying  unto  God,  not  as  a  devout  Christian,  but  as  a  soldier, 
not  as  a  religious  man,  but  as  a  captain,  not  as  Mo3^ses  or  Elias,  but  like 
to  Josua,  who  on  horseback,  and  with  his  sword  in  his  hand,  piayed  and 
commanded  the  sonne  to  stand  still '.    Grimeston,  p.  987. 

V,  if,  88.    Ropes  of  sand :  a  similar  phrase  occurs  in  Caesat^  and  Pompey,  I,  ii, 

234-5. 

V,  if,  88-88.  Taken  direct  from  Grimeston,  p.  988.  The  foQowing  lines  to 
1.  doare  original,  and  then  comes  an  adaptation  from  the  classics. 

V,  If,  88-78.  As  Cunliffe  (loc.  cU,  p.  98)  pointed  out,  these  lines  are  a  free  trans- 
lation from  Seneca : 

Cuf  mnimaen  in  tsto  luce  deHneam  ampKuSp 
Morerqne  nil  est:  euncta  jam  amiei  bona, 
Mentem,  arma,  famam,  oonjugem,  gnatos,  tntuMts, 
Etiam  fwrorem* 

HercuUs  Furens,  Z358-6Z. 

V,  if  >  78-119.  The  sentence  of  death  was  read  to  Biron  in  the  chapel  d  the 
Bastille.  Its  terms  are  almost  exactly  reproduced  by  Chapman,  and 
Biron  interrupted  the  reading  to  protest  against  its  terms  as  he  does  in 
the  play. 

y,  if.  88.  Of  hoth  the  Orders :  the  Order  of  St.  Michael  founded  by  Louis  XI 
and  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Ghost  founded  by  Henry  III.  When  Henry 
founded  the  latter  order  he  stipulated  that  its  members  should  first  become 
members  of  the  Order  of  St.  Michael.  A  member  on  entering  the  Order 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  swore  that  he  would  not  receive  gifts,  pensions,  or  estates 
from  a  foreign  prince,  or  bind  himself  in  any  way  to  such  prince  without  the 
express  permission  of  his  sovereign,  the  King  of  France. 

y,  If,  118.  The  Grive :  the  open  place  now  known  as  the  Place  de  I'Hdtel- 
de-Ville  de  Paris.  It  was  frequently  used  for  public  executions,  especially 
of  distinguished  prisoners. 

y.  If,  188-8.  The  QianceUor  summoned  Biron  to  surrender  his  order  before 
the  reai^ng  of  the  sentence  of  death,  and  the  Duke  returned  it  with  the 
wordsgiven  by  Chapman ;  see  Grimeston,  pp.  985-6. 

y,  if,  18^-41.  Immediately  after  the  d^arture  of  the  Chanodlor  Biron 
be^ed  the  Knight  of  the  Watch  to  go  after  him  and  ask  that  his  body 
might  be  buried  with  his  ancestors  (Grimeston,  p.  088).  This  part  is  here 
conferred  on  Biron's  friend,  D'Escures,  who  in  reaUty  was  not  present  at 
the  execution* 


622  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

▼,  It,  152-8.  The  simile  of  a  little  stream  swollen  to  a  torrent  is  a  favourite 
one  with  Chapman.    Compare  BytorCs  Conspiracy,  II,  ii,  i88-92« 

V,  It,  159-62.  '  Having  continued  with  his  confessors  halfe  an  hoiire  (beemg 
neere  five  of  the  docke)  one  came  and  told  him  that  it  was  time  to  part. 
Go  we  (sayd  he)  seeing  I  must  .  .  .  Coming  into  the  Court  he  went  five 
or  six  paces  without  speaking  a  word  but  /ks,  Aa,  ha  \    Grimeston,  p.  989. 

Tf  It,  I6IP-7.  '  Going  out  of  tne  Chapell  the  Executioner  presented  htm^rff 
unto  him.  He  asked  Voisin  what  he  was.  It  is  (sayd  he)  the  Executioner  0/ 
the  sentence.  Retire  thyself  (sayd  the  Duke  of  Byron),  touch  me  not  until 
it  be  time.  And  doubting  least  he  should  be  bouna  he  added,  IvnU  go  freely 
unto  death,  I  have  no  hands  to  defend  myself  against  it,  but  it  shall  never  bt 
sayd  that  I  die  bound  like  aTheefeoraSlave, and  turning  toward  the  hang- 
man hee  swore  that  if  he  came  neere  him  he  woiild  puU  out  his  throat '. 
Grimeston,  p.  989.  ...  *  He  threw  downe  his  hat  and  cast  his  handkercber 
to  a  boy,  and  presently  called  for  it  again  to  use  it.  .  .  .  He  put  off  his 
dublet  and  cast  it  to  the  same  boy,  but  the  Executioner's  man  got  it  and 
kept  it'.  Grimeston,  p.  990.  The  clothes  of  the  condemned  wer^  of 
course,  a  perquisite  of  the  executioner. 

▼•  It,  176-201.  He  takes  his  handkercher  with  which  he  binds  his  eyes, 
asking  the  Executioner  where  he  should  set  himselfe  :  He  answered  mm. 
There  my  Lord,  there:  And  where  is  that?  Thou  seest  that  I  see  noffring, 
and  vet  thou  shewest  mee  as  if  I  did  see  plainely,  ...  He  desired  to  die 
standing,  .  .  .  The  Executioner  answered  him  that  he  must  kneele  that 
he  might  do  nothing  out  of  order.  No,  no,  said  the  Duke  of  Biron,  if  thou 
canst  not  do  it  at  One,  give  Thirtie.  I  will  not  stirre.  They  prest  him  to 
kneele,  and  hee  obeyed,  willing  the  Executioner  to  dispatch,  then  he  start 
up  sodainely  againe,  casting  his  eyes  upon  the  Executioner,  and  looking 
upon  the  standers-by,  hee  asked  if  there  was  no  mercy.  .  .  .  The  l^zecu- 
tioner  intreated  him  to  suffer  him  to  cut  his  haire.  At  that  word  he 
grew  into  choller  againe,  he  unhanded  himself,  and  sware  that  if  he 
toucht  him,  he  would  strangle  him.  .  .  .  Voisin  sayd  unto  him,  that  he 
had  too  much  care  of  his  bodie,  which  was  no  more  his  owne.  He  turned 
to  him  in  choller  with  an  oath,  saying,  /  will  not  have  him  touch  mee,  so 
long  as  I  shall  bee  living :  If  they  put  me  into  ehoUr^  I  wiU  strangle  half 
the  comfany  that  is  here,  and  wiU  force  the  rest  to  ktU  mee,  I  w%U  leape 
downe,  if  you  thrust  me  into  dispaire  \    Grimeston,  pp.  990-1. 

▼1  iT,  20ii5-25.  Byron's  appeal  to  the  soldiere  comes  somewhat  earlier  in 
Grimeston,  p.  990.  '  He  sayd  unto  the  souldiars  which  guarded  the  Port 
(showing  them  his  naked  brest)  that  he  should  be  much  bounde  unto  him 
that  would  shoote  him  with  a  musket :  what  a  pittie  it  is,  sayd  he,  to 
diesofniserably,  and  of  so  infamous  a  stroake?  .  .  .  At  these  words  the  teares 
fell  from  the  souldiars  eyes'.  The  spirited  speeches  of  the  soldier  in 
Chapman,  U.  213-23,  are  not  found  in  Grimeston,  but  the  opening  words 
were  doubtless  suggested  by  Grimeston's  remark,  *  All  those  of  his  pro- 
fession sware  by  his  Spirit,  and  by  his  good  Angell,  as  the  Ancients  did 
hy  that  of  their  Prince  '. 
Y,  iy,  231-44.  Before  leaving  the  chapel  for  the,  scaffold  Biron  sent  a  message 
to  his  brothers-in-law  in  almost  the  words  Chapman  £ives  here.  The 
message  to  D'Auvergne  was  sent  at  the  same  time.  The  obscure  line, 
244,  is  due  to  Chapman's  misunderstanding  of  an  awkward  tcanslatian 
in  Grimeston,  p.  989,  '  Beseeching  him  pD'Auvergne]  to  beleeve  that  he 
[Byron]  had  sayd  nothing  at  his  Arraignment  that  might  hurt  him,  if 
it  were  not  that  he  had  more  want  than  bad  meaning'.  (Qu'il  avoit 
plus  de  necessity  que  de  mauvaise  volont^ ',  Matthieu,  vol.  a,  p.  162  b). 
Chapman  apparently  mistook    he    in    the  last  clause    as  referring  to 

the  true 
mal  k 

,    .    ,  , , ^ 'affection  vers 

le  Roy '. 

Vt  iv>  245-61.    Grimeston  gives  the  following  account  of  Biron*s  last'  mo- 
ments, p.  991.    '  They  [the  preachers]  goe  up  againe,  and  speake  soom 


NOTES  623 

^ood  words  unto  him  in  his  eare,  the  which  doth  temper  his  furious  rage, 
and  calme  the  choller  which  the  Executioner's  presence  did  tlurust  hmn 
into :  He  had  alwayes  lived  in  Warre,  he  could  not  die  in  Peace.  .  .  . 
-  Hetherto  they  beleeved,  that  although  hee  were  entering  into  death,  yet 
hee  thought  not  to  die,  and  that  he  would  seeze  uppon  the  Executioner's 
sword.  Sodenly  he  resolves  to  free  this  passage,  and  havingreceived  his 
absolution,  he  sayd,  My  God,  my  God,  take  pitHe  on  mee.  Then  turning 
to  the  Executioner,  he  takes  the  binder  that  was  in  his  hand,  trusses  up 
his  haire  behind,  and  binds  it  uppon  his  fore-head,  and  with  his  handker- 
cher  he  blinds  his  eyes,  and  so  kuedes  down.  The  Preachers  comfort  him 
in  his  last  resolution,  assuring  him  that  his  soule  was  readie  to  see  God 
and  to  bee  partaker  of  his  glory  in  Heaven.  /,  sayd  he,  Heaven  is  open  for 
my  souU.  And  this  done  he  bends  downe  his  head  .  .  .  saying  unto  the 
Executioner,  Strike,  Strike,  oh  Strike  [cf.  L  359]  .  .  •  The  Executioner 
having  seene  him  to  rise  and  to  unblinde  himselfe  thrice,  that  in  turning 
toward  him  being  not  bound,  having  the  sword  in  his  band,  hee  might 
wrest  it  from  him,  thought  that  there  was  no  way  to  execute  him  but  by 
surprise,  and  therefore  he  sayd  unto  him  that  he  must  say  his  last  prayer 
to  recommend  his  Soule  unto  God,  intreating  the  Preachers  that  were  gone 
downe  to  cause  him  to  say  it,  at  which  wordes  the  Executioner  made 
a  si^ne  to  his  man  to  reach  hun  his  sword,  with  the  which  he  cut  off  his 
head,  even  as  he  was  speaking.  The  blow  was  so  sodaine,  as  few  men 
perceived  it,  the  Head  leaped  from  the  scaffold  to  the  ground^. 

The  elegiac  note  of  11.  245-61  seems  to  have  made  a  special  Impression 

on  Fletcher,  who  imitated  this  passage  more  than  once,  notably  in  Buddng- 

ham's  farewell  {Henry  VIII,  II.  i,  55-136},  and  in  the  last  speech  of  Bamap 

velt  {Sir  Jokn  van  Olden  Barnaveifj. 

The  text  contains  no  stage  direction  for  the  bearing  off  of  Byron's  body, 

nor  indeed  for  any  exit  of  the  actors  gathered  round  tne  scaffold.    It  seems 

plain  that  we  have  here  an  instance  of  a  '  tableau '  ending,  a  curtain  being 

drawn  after  the  last  line  to  conceal  the  figures  of  Byron  kneeling  on  the  scaffcdd 

and  the  hangman  standing  over  him  with  his  raised  sword.    For  a  fuller 

discussion  of  the  setting  of  this  scene  see  Modem  Langttage  Review,  October, 

J908,  pp.  63-4. 

TEXT  NOTES 

The  two  plays  were  entered  in-  the  Stationers'  Registers  on  ^  June  5,  z6o8, 
as  follows : 

ThomatThocp  eatwed  lor  his  oopple  under  thandes  of  Sir  George  Back  and  the  wardens 
a  booke  caOed  Tke  Omapirwy  and  Tragedie  of  Charles  Duke  of  Byron  written  by  George 
Chapman* 

They  were  published  by  Thorp  in  the  same  year,  z6o8.  Of  all  Chapman's 
plays  these  alone  achieved  the  honour  of  a  second  edition  in  his  life  time. 
This  appcflffed  in  1625  ;  it  is  a  genuine  new  edition,  not  a  mere  reprint  of  the 
first,  but  the  changes  which,  it  shows  are  almost  alwaj^  for  the  worse  and 
in  many  cases  appear  to  be  alterations  by  some  proof-reader.  Here  and  there, 
however,  an  alteration  appears  to  be  by  the  hand  of  the  poet.  In  general  Qi 
is  much  more  correctly  printed  than  Q9,  and  I  follow  it  throughout,  except 
in  one  or  two  instances  where  I  have  admitted  and  noted  a  reading  from  the 
latter.  In  the  f<41owing  pages  I  denote  Qi  by  A,  and  Qa  by  B,  and  record 
all  variations  except  differences  of  spdling  and  evident  mkpiints. 

These  plays  were  not  reprinted,  so  far  as  I  can  discover,  between  1625  and 
Z873,  when  they  appeared  in  Tke  Comedies  and  Tragedies  of  George  Ckapman, 
published  by  Pearson,  London.  The  editor,  R.  H.  Shepherd,  appears  to  have 
made  a  transcript  of  B.,  compared  his  MS.  hastily  with  A,  and  introduced  a 
number  of  A  readings,  relegating  the  B  variants  to  footnotes.  But  a  large 
nmnber  of  them  remain  in  the  text,  which  is  in  consequence  quite  unreliable. 
A  facdmile  reprint  of  A,  giving  all  the  B  variants,  ia  a  work  much  to  bedesiredt 

t  Not  QQ  May  s»  w  Flny*  Biog)  Ckron:,  vol.  i,  p.  6»,  statea.        , ^ 


624  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 


as  the  text  of  these  plays  is  in  a  very  unsatisfactory  conditioa.  I  ha:ve  made 
a  detailed  comparison  of  A  and  B,  and  published  the  results  in  The  Modern 
Latiguags  RtoUm  for  October,  1908,  to  which  article  I  refer  any  reader  who 
wkhes  to  go  further  into  the  matter.  I  denote  the  Pearson  reprint  by  P.  I 
have  modomixed  the  spelling  and  punctuation  throughout. 

The  only  other  editions  are  those  of  Shepherd  m  The  Works  of  Gwrgt 
Chapman — Plays  1874,  and  of  Professor  Phelm  in  Best  Plays  of  George  Chap- 
man, edited  for  the  Mermaid  Series,  1895.  Both  these  are  modernized  ver- 
sions ol  P.  and  are  without  critical  value.  I  shall  refer  to  them  when  necessary 
as  S.  and  Ph.  respectively. 

THB  OONSPIRACY 

The  list  of  DramaHs  Personaa  was  first  printed  by  Ph.  I  have  re-acranged 
it,  and  added  certain  explanations  of  the  characters  for  the  benefit  ol  the 
reader  who  can  hardly  be  expected  to  know  all  the  characters  or  anticipate 
the  parts  they  are  to  play. 


I,  i,  ».  Qq.  Um^tongd  HiraiOds ; 
S,  loud-tongued, 

41.  A,  Franch  County  ;  B.Frmch 
Bounty.  I  modernize  to  rranche' 
Comte, 

€8.  The  punctuation  of  this  line 
differs  in  the  original  texts. 
Host  copies  have  a  semicolon 
after  Sa»oy,  1  have  used  a 
colon  to  make  the  sense  clearer. 

IM.  Qq.  mutuaU  rites.  Mr.  Daniel 
suggests  rights,  which  may  be 
correct,  but  does  not  seem  neces- 
sary. 

14S.  A,  LicentiaU ;  B,  Liceniiary. 
All  former  editors  foQow  B.  but 
A  seems  to  me  better  both  for 
sense  and  metre. 
L  A,  traitrous  ;  B,  traytors.  All 
editors  follow  B,  because'/ Aair  in 
1.  204  seems  to  require  a  noun 
as  anteeedent;  but  I  think  the 
loose  construction  ol  A  is  char- 
actoistic  of  Chapman. 

nt.  A,  peace  now  made ;  B,  peace 
I  now  make. 
I,  ii,  M.  A,  offends  ;  B,  offend, 

OB.  A,  And  so  'tis  nothing;  B.  And 
so  'tis  nothing  Ose,  The  change 
spoils  the  sense  of  the  passage ; 
nothing  refers  to  servile  loyidty, 
I.  8q,  which  Picolft  calls  a  mere 
nothing. 

96.  A,  carve;  B,  crave,  probably 
a  misprint. 

ISC  A,  forme  ;  B,  fame. 

14A.  A,  conHnuate ;  B,  conHnualL 

175.  A,  uttermost ;  B,  utmost, 
which  is  followed  by  all  editors  as 
smoother  metrically ;  but  I  pre* 
fer  to  retain  the  first  reading. 

2SSL  A,  Ilehotd;  B.Jsheld. 


JL  i,  11.  Qq.  guardlike,  which  is  fol- 
lowed by  all  editors.  Bnt  no 
such  word  is  known,  and  I  have 
therefore  emended  to  guardless, 
a  word  used  by  Chapman  in  his 
Uiad,  V,  146.  It  has  there  the 
meaning  '  unguarded ',  which, 
with  a  slight  extension  to 
'  heedless ',  would  suit  the  present 
passage. 

6L  Qq.  your  service,  and  so  all 
editors.  But  the  phrase  seems 
to  me  almost  unintelligible,  and 
I  have  emended  to  your  servaoL 

S8.  I  have  added  cum  suis  to  the 
stage  direction  of  the  Qq.  after 
this  Une  to  show  that  his  at- 
tendants left  the  stage  along  with 
the  Duke. 

88.  Qq>  fleade  carcase.  Imodemiis 
to  flay'd. 

70.  A,  Ofi  intemfencing  Lord;  B, 
an  inteUtgendnt  instrumeni.  I 
agree  with  the  former  editors  in 
preferring  B,  for  I  think  no  one 
would  have  made  this  change 
but  the  anther  himself. 

IfML  For  assume  Mr.  Danid  sug- 
gests agifm,  which  is  a  tempting 
emendation.  But  assume^  in  the 
sense  of  '  atrogate,  lay  daim  to ', 
gives  a  posslme  senses  and  I 
therefore  retain  it. 

Itt.  A,  paUms ;  B,  pahns.  Mr. 
Daniel  suggests  plains  as  the 
true  reading.  Thu  seems  to  me 
certain;  palims  is  an  evident 
misprint. 

140.  Oq*  ^Ml  shore  of  Bast,  ac- 
cepted by  all  editors.  Bnt  there 
can  be  no  sense  in  applying  the 
epithet  duU  to  the  East,  and  Mr. 


NOTES 


625 


Dankl's  cmendatiQa  «m#  teems 

to  me  to  oarry  conviction. 
Oi  ii,  47.    A,  further  from  ;  B,  futrAef 

Ihefi,  ^bably  a  proof-reader's 

ill-advised  change. 
Mt.  A,  yei  must  not  ghe  ;  B,  v^ 

you  muit  not  give.    The  insertion 

of  you  spoils  the  sense. 
187«  A,  beaUs  ;  B,  beareSf  probably 

a  mii^jMrhit* 
816  A,    My  ^Lor.  ;   B,    My  Lord 

I  think    A  attempts    to    give 

the    French     pronmidation   of 

the  title. 
880-9.  I  have  repmictnated  these 

lines  to  bring  oat  what  I  take  to 

be  their  mdining.    The  original 

gunctnation,  which  is  reproduced 
i  P,  is  very  confusing. 
m,  !!•  90.  For  the  Qq.  mrmes  S  reads 
ofmUs,  a  temptmg  emendation, 
but  not,  I  think,  necessary; 
armss  could  be  pronounced  as  a 
dimliable. 

119.  Qq.  read  prefect;  S  corrects 
to^^«^ 

181.  Qq.  Puffie,  which  is  followed 
by  all  editors.  But  I  do  not  see 
that  purlie,  *  an  embrc^dered  or 
decorated  border',  makes  sense 
here,  and  therefore  suggest  profile, 

814.  A,  And  we  wiU  iume  these 
torrents,  hence.  The  King, 
Exit  Lafi  ;  B,  And  we  witt  fume 
these  torrents,  hence  En.  the 
King.  Exit  Laf,  In  A  the 
words  The  King  are  in  italics 
and  are  followed  in  the  same  line 
by  the  stage  direction,  Exit  Laffi. 
It  is  plain  that  the  compositor  of 
B  mistook  them  for  part  of  the 
stage  direction  and  thinking  to 
make  this  clearer  inserted  En, 
(for  Enter)  not  noticing  that  this 
dianse  spoiled  the  metre  and 
antiapated  the  true  entrance, 
given  in  both  A  and  B  a  line 
below.  Yet  this  apross  blunder 
has  been  fdlowed  by  all  former 
editors. 

819.  A,  house ;  B,  correctly  houses. 

884.  Qq*  femaU  mischiefs.  The 
editors  have  taken  femaU  as  a 
variant  of  'female',  but  this 
gives  no  sense.  Following  a  sug- 
gestion of  Dr.  Bradlev  I  read 
feral,  *  deadly ',  for  which  f email 
might  easily  be  misprinted.  The 
same  misprint  occurs  in  The 
Gentleman  Usher,  II,  i,  286,  where 
also  we  should  read  fertUf 

P«P.w. 


For  last  Deighton  {(Hd  Dra- 
matists) proposes  l^ast,  which 
seems  to  me  barely  intelligible. 

890.  For  eas*d  Deighton  suggests 
caused,  a  temptixig  emendation. 
But  I  believe  eas'd,  ie.  '  gave 
ease,  or  vent,  to'  may  be  re- 
tained.   See  note,  p.  606. 

894.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  Qq.  have  Exit  Hen,  & 
Sau.  But  509,  i.e.  Savoy,  must 
have  left  the  stage  after  1.  209 
where  the  direction  Exii,  manet 
Byr:  Laffin  must  mean  Exeunt 
all  but  Byron  and  La  Fin,  1 
therefore  alter  here  to  Henry 
cumsuis, 

891.  A,  fayning  ;  B,  saying. 

m,  iii,  94.  Qq*  must  utter,  S  emends 
may* St  wnich  makes  a  more  in* 
tdJUgible  reading.  But  I  believe 
the  old  reading  may  be  retained. 
See  note,  p.  606. 

94.  This  line  lacks  a  syllable  and 
is  quite  unintelligible.  Mr. 
Daniel  proposes  [Thou\  remedy  of 
pity,  i.e.  Thou  reason  for  dis- 
carding all  pity.  This  does  not 
seem  satisfactory,  but  I  can  sug- 
ffest  nothing  better. 

184.  Qq-that  my  weahe  bradne.  I  have 
ventured  to  read  than,  ioc  which 
thai  is  often  misprinted ;  but  I 
am  not  sure  that  this  emendation 
is  absolutely  necessary. 
17, 1,  88.  I  have  ventured  to  insert 
noi  on  the  authority  of  the 
sources.    See  note^  p.  607. 

40.  Qq.  ChfistaH,  Perhaps  we 
should  read  Christ,  but  see  note, 
p.  607. 

819.  A,  maioer ;  B,  correctly  waver. 

819.  A,  over  rules ;  B,  over-rule. 
This  change  may  have  been  made 
to  make  the  verb  agree  with  its 
supposed  subject  stairres ;  but 
the  true  subject  is  whom,  at- 
tracted into  the  objective  to 
agree  with  its  antecedent. 
T,  I,  19.  Qq.  meaie.  Brereton  {Mod. 
Lang,  Review,  October,  1907) 
suggests  mead,  which  is  very 
plausible,  but  I  believe  meate, 
m  the  sense  of  <mess»  eating- 
place*'  may  be  retained 
V,  ii,  6.  There  is  an  interesting  vari- 
ation in  the  Qq.  here.  At  least 
one  copy  of  A  (Brit.  Mus.  C.  30, 
e.  2)  reads  So  long  as  such  as  he. 
Two  other  copies  of  A  (Brit.  Mus. 
Cf   za.  g.  5  and  the  Bodleian 


626  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 


copy)  read  So  long  as  tdU  and 
reaiculous  King  (read  Kings)- 
B  also  gives  this,  which  is,  of 
course,  the  true  reading,  altered 
as  A.  was  going  through  the 
press  for  fear  of  the  censor,  and 
restored  in  B. 

tt.  For  Qq.  dead  Deighton  sug- 
gests dread,  which  seems  un* 
necessary.    See  note,  p.  609. 

88.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  A  has  Exi&unt ;  B 
Exeunt.  I  emend  ExHiufus,  as  it 
is  evident  that  Byron  does  not 
leave  the  stage. 

108.  Qq.  lodU,  Perhaps  we  should 
reaia  locke. 

U8.  The  stage  direction  after  this 
line  Enter  Savoy,  etc.,  occurs  in 
the  Qq.  after  1.  no. 

8M.  A,  most  absolute:  B,  abso- 
lufsU 

THB  TRAGEDY 

The  list  of  \Dramaiis  Personae  was 
first  printed  by  Ph.    I  have  recon- 
structed it  from  the  Qq.  and  added 
some  explanations. 
!•  i,  87.    A,  beaveries  ;  B,  braveries. 
128.  A,  overmacht ;  B,  overmatdiL 
S   emends   overwatch*d;   but    I 
think  overmatch* d  in  the  sense  of 
'overpowered'  may  be  retained. 
IM.  Qq.    when   guiUy    (A.    guUie) 
made  Noblesse,  feed  on  Noblesse. 
The  text  is  evidently  corrupt. 
S  reads  When  guilty  mad  noblesse 
feed  on  noblesse  ;  but  it  is  evident 
from  the  context  that  the  main 
verb  should  be  in  the  past  tense. 
Ph  has  When  guilty,  made  noblesse 
feed  on  noblesse,  which  is  unin- 
telligible.     Deighton     suggests 
HWhen  guilty  mad  noblesse  fed  on 
noblesse,  and  Mr.  Daniel  When 
guilt-made  noblesse fedon  noblesse. 
Of  these  two  I  should  prefer  the 
former,    but    Chapman    almost 
mvariably  accents  ndblesse,  and 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  a 
word    has    dropped    out    after 
guilty.    I  suggest  with  some  diffi- 
dence lust,  Le.  lust  of  power. 
Itt.  Qq.  quite  out  of  from  ^fortune. 
S  emends  quite  cut  off,  which  Is 
oatroborated    by    the    parallel 

1  This  r«ading  had  already  been  given 
by  Lamb,  Specimens  of  the  EngUsk  Dra- 
metie  Poeti, 


Fassage  in  Caesar  and  Pompef, 
I,  iv,  136-40. 
I  ii,  4.  A,  nededed  ;  B,  negfeeisd, 
80.  A,  his  fixed;  B,  her  fixed. 
88.  Qq.  this  is.    An  old  hand  in  t 
copy  of  B  (Brit.  Mus.  C  45,  b.  9I 
suggests  his  for  this  is,  a  rather 
plausible  emendatioo,    but  not 
necessary. 
46.  For  Qq.  winde  Deighton  sug- 
gests mind.    But  I  think  wiai 
here  means  'spirit';     cL  gjvs 
ayre  in  1.  44. 
I,iii,78.  Qq.  thai  must  condude.    The 
source,  Grimeston,  furnishes  the 
true  reading,   most.    See  note, 
p.  6x2. 
S^  98.    A,  saftdy  ;  B,  safety. 
6ft.  Qq.  play  the  frease.    The  old 
band  already  raerred  to  tvnfm^ 

ray,  which  is  certainly  right, 
retains    play,    but    oocrects 
prease  to  press* 
IwL  A,  the  vertue  ;  B,  veriue.    The 
context  shows  B  to  be  correct. 
m,  1.  67.    The  Qq.  do  not  indicate 
the  entry  of  La  Brunei  after  this 
line,  but  simplv  assign  11.  58-9 
to  La  Brun.    I  have  supplied  the 
entry  as  well  os  the  exit  after 
1.  165  to  prepare  for  the  later 
entrance  indicated  by  the  Qq. 
after  1.  230. 
148-4.  Qq.     Syrian     Starrs  .  .  . 
.  Lyons  mouth.    Read  Sirian  star 
•  •  .  Lion's    month.    See    note^ 
p.  613. 
190.    A,  staires;   B,  starres.    See 

note,  p.  613. 
SOL  Qq.  by  laying  out.    I  suspect 
a  corruption  in  the  text.     Per- 
haps we  should  read  flying  ouL 
But  see  note,  p.  6x4. 
804.  B    inserts    no    before     nor. 
This  sounds  like  an  actor's  in- 
terpolation. 
^^^-  04-  print  as  prose. 
888.  A,  scruple  ;  B,  scruipies, 
IIl»  ii,  68.  Before  this  line  A  repeats 
the  name  of  the  speaker,  H^ry]. 
69.  After  Be  the  old  hand  inaots 
it,  a  plausible  but  unneoessary 
correcition,    as   Chapman    often 
omits  a  subject  that  may  be  sup- 
plied from  the  context. 
88-00.  Qq.  print  these  three  lines 
as  two^  Resolving  ,  ,  .  in^  And 
had  •  •  .  son. 
111.  A,  expedition ;  B,  cxhdniion. 
118.  Qq.  foyld.    S  alters  to  soiTd, 
an  unneoess^ffy  change. 


NOTES 


627 


ISO.  A,  your  friend ;  B,  a  friend, 
Z7,  i,  8.  A,  much  better  themselves'; 
B    corrects    by    inserting    then 
before  themselves. 

88.  A,  must  like  ;  B,  most  like. 

68-9.  Qq*  print  the  words  from 
Thev  to  King  as  one  line. 

18S.  A,  f el-mad ;  B,  corrects  to 
feU  mad. 

168.  Qq.  omit  Exeunt  after  this 
line. 
IT,  ii»  85.  A,  resolution  what ;  B, 
resolution  that.  The  context 
shows  B  to  have  the  better 
reading. 

8S.  I  have  inserted  the  name 
Montigny  in  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line  to  prepare  for  his 
speech,  11.  156-62. 

80.  Qq.  omit  Exit  D*Auvergne  after 
this  line.  I  have  supplied  it, 
because  his  re-entrance  is  marked 
in  the  Qq.  after  1. 172. 

110.  Qq.  mortallitie.  The  old  hand 
tries  to  alter  to  moralitie,  and 
notes  in  the  margin :  A  morall 
man,  A  civill  man.  Deighton 
suggests  morality,  which  is  the 
reading  of  S  and  Ph.  This  is 
possibly  correct,  but  see  note, 

S.  616. 
.  h,1he  worthy  ;  B,  thai  worthy. 

144.  Qq.  Caiydonian.  The  correct 
form  is  Chalybonian  (see  note, 
p.  616)  ;  the  Teubner  edition  of 
Plutarch  gives  x«^v^»^o«  as  a 
variant  of  x«^»P»»"«». 

170-1.  Qq.  have  tmmov'd  and 
beloved  as  the  last  words  of  these 
lines;  but  it  seems  plain  that 
they  were  meant  to  rhyme.  I 
therefore  read  unmov*d,  belov*d, 

177.  Qq.  on  Strong  Barre,  The  old 
hand  corrects  to  one. 

188.  Qq.  in  treachery.  S  corrects 
tots. 

194.  Qq.  misery.  The  old  hand  has 
Mysterye,  anticipating  S  and 
Deighton.  The  context  shows 
mystery  to  be  correct. 

199.  A,  ertouge;  B,  enough. 

801.  I  have  inserted  tho  sta^e 
(Section  in  this  line,  since  it 
is  dear  that  Henry  and  Byron 
are  left  alone  on  the  stage. 

866.  Qq.  my  person ;  wich  is.  The 
old  hand  corrects  wich  is  to 
with.  S  follows  this,  which  is 
certainly  the  true  reading. 

868.  B  transfers  envy  to  the  begin- 
ning of  1.  264.    I  liave  ventured 


to  insert  but  before  envy,  thus 
restoring    the   metre,    and   im- 

S roving,  I  think,  the  sense. 
,  A,  A  property  :  8,  Properties. 
B  is  perhaps  the  better  reading, 
but  here/ as  in  all  doubtful  cases, 
I  have  retained  the  reading  of  A. 

294.  Qq.  Shoots  ever  overthrow. 
After  much  faesitaticm  I  have 
decided  to  read  thows,  .i.e. 
'pageants,'  thking  overthrow  as 
intransitive,  see  New  English  Die- 
tionary  overthrow  f  5.  A  con- 
fusion in  spelling  between  *  shoes' 
and  '  shows '  is  not  uncommon 
in  Elizabethan  printing.  See 
King  John,  II,  i,  144,  where  Ff . 
have  shooes,  which  Theobald  cor- 
rected to  shows  :  Greene,  Groats- 
worth  of  Wit  (p.  129,  Grosart's 
edition)  has  shooes  for  shows ; 
Middleton's  Family  of  Love,  I, 
iii  (Dyce's  edition,  vol.  II,  p.  127), 
has  showes  for  shoes.  I  cannot 
persuade  m3rself  that  the  homely 
figure,  *  too  large  shoes  over- 
throw their  wearer '  is  what  Chap- 
man intended  to  write  here. 

807.  Qq.  it  wiU  beare.  The  old 
hand  corrects  that  will  bear,  an- 
ticipating Deighton. 

809.  A,  his  best ;  B,  corrects  to  is 
best. 

810-1.  A   has   That  for  the  first 
word  in  both  lines ;  B,  As. 
T,  i,  8.  A,  Thai ;  B,  Which. 

9.  A,  A  tut;  B,  Tor. 

88.  A,  Tin  ;  B,  VniUl. 

68.  A,  Take ;  B,  Have. 

70.  A,  lothes  ;  B,  haies. 

88.  A,  feared;  B,  sacred.  See 
note,  p.  618.  I  think  A  is  the 
more  likely  of  the  two  to  be  a 
misprint,  and  so  follow  B. 

88.  A,  inipartiall ;  B,  imperiatt^ 

91.  A,  Duke  Byron:  B,  Duke  of 
Byron. 

99.  B  inserts  make  before  slack. 

118.  Qq.  Iff  the  best  sort.  I  take 
best  to  be  a  misprint  for  lest,  a 
common  spelling  of  '  least ',  and 
correct  accordingly,  here  and  in 
1.  rt5,  where  Qq.  also  have  best. 

116.  A,  Thai :  B,  So. 

119.  A,  unwares  ;  B,  unawares. 
188.  A,  not  out;  B,  nor  out.    For 

o«^  Deighton  suggests  it,  i.e. '  the 
light ',  but  out  stands  ia_contrast 
to  down. 
V,  U,  80.    A,  Tin  ;  B,  Until. 
80-8.  A   n^prints    ffen^    as    tho 


6zi  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 


name  of  the  speaker.    B  OGCiecU 

to  ffor. 
60.  A,  Thsfoutih  is  ;  B,  Fourthly. 
78.  A,  treoHis  ;  B,  treafy. 
87,  Af  for  him ;  B,  from  kim. 
117.  B  omits  then. 
XUL  B  inserts  the»  before  say,  and 

drops  /  hnow. 
ML  a;   Whta  I  ha»9;    B,  Wha$ 

fuufc  /• 
8M.  Qq.    the.    I   read  their,   but 

perhaps  the  should  be  retained  as 

an  instance  of  the  article  used 

for  the  possessive  pronoun. 
T»  iii,  1.  Qq.  give    this  speech    to 

Vififyli  an  evident  misprint  for 

Vidiame]. 
1^  B  omits  my. 
IS.  Qq.    hen^d.    S    oorrecU    to 

chan^d. 
M.  Qq.  enmud.    I  see  no  sense  in 

thisi  and  surest  engku^d,   i.e. 

*  painted*.    See  note,  p.  6x9. 
7S.  The   stage    direction    Within, 

wanting  in  A,  is  supplied  by  B. 

186.  A,  tluU  injures  ;  B,  and  ifh 
fures.  This  coincides  with  the 
altered  position  of  the  paren- 
thesis which  in  B  includes  only 
the  words  from  most  to  is,  I.  134. 
These  changes  may  be  the  poet's 
own,  but  I  prefer  to  retain  A. 

187.  A,  resia$nes  ;  B,  restraines. 
IHi  A,  his  vices,  nor  for  ;  B,  their 

vices,  noi  for.  I  believe  B  repre- 
sents the  chan^^e  of  a  proof- 
reader  who  noticed  at  the  evi- 
dent misprint  nor  for  not  in  A, 
and  in  tne  ardour  of  oorrectioo 
attempted  another  emendation, 
their  iac  his. 

188.  I  supply  the  missing  stage 
direction  £xit  Byron  after  tliis 
line. 

188-^  Qq*  print  the  words  Neoer 
.  .  .  duUh  as  one  line* 

817.  Qq*  render  the  hingdomes. 
Deigbton  corrects  under,  etc 

888.  A,  Authoriy  ;  B,  Authority. 

840.  I  have  supplied  Exeuni  after 
this  line,  but  as  there  is  no  divi- 
sion of  scenes  in  Qq ,  it  is  possible 
that  the  actors  remained  on  the 
stage  to  loin  the  procession  to 
the  scaffold. 
Y,  !▼,  88.  Qq.  give  Arch[bishop}  as 
the  speaker.    See  note,  p.  6x0. 

48.  Qq*  /  bringa  long  globe  and  a 
Ume  earth.  The  text  is  plainly 
corrupt.  Deighton  proposes 
M'fif  a  blown  globe  of  a  little 


breath;  Brereton  soggests  lone 
for  long,  I  venture  to  read  being 
a  large  globe  and  a  little  earth 
See  note,  p.  63x. 

68.  I  have  supplied  the  speech  of 
Vitry's  from  Grimeston.  In  A 
the  last  word  on  the  paige  (sig. 
Q4  reverse)  is  Blartca^ ;  thai 
comes  the  catch-word  Vitiry]. 
But  the  next  page  begins  Byr. 
Do  they  flie  me.  It  is  piais 
that  a  ^eeoh  b^  Vitry  has 
dropped  out.  (jrimeaton  (p. 
988)  gives  the  answer  to  BIron'i 
request  to  speak  with  La  Poroa 
and  Blancart,  '  They  toold  him 
they  were  not  in  the  city'. 
Chapman  evidently  meant  to  give 
some  such  speech  to  Vitry.  In 
B  owing  to  a  difference  of  paons 
there  is  no  catch-word  KiHry] 
and  therefore  no  indication  of 
any  omission. 

71.  Qq*  winds,  a  nUsprint  foe  mind 
as  the  source  shows.  See  note, 
p.  62X. 

77.  A,  yee ;  B,  yoi«. 

100.  Qq.  treason  in  a  sentetue.  The 
word  in  makes  nonsense  of  the 
passage.  Grimeston,  p.  986, 
suggests  the  true  reading  accused 
of  treason,  a  sentence  mas  gtven. 

188.  Qq.  They  had  beene.  They  is 
uninteUigible.  Grimeston,  p.  988, 
'  the  King  had  not  beene  living 
three  yeares  since  ',  sun^ests  the 
true  reading.  I  believe  Chapman 
wr<yte  He,  which  the  printer 
misread  They. 

187.  I  insert  the  stage  directioo 
after  this  line  on  the  strength  of 
Grimeston,  who  says,  p.  988, 
that  the  Chancellor  and  Uaday 
left  Biron  after  he  had  spoken 
the  words  given  in  U.  13 1-6. 

140.  B  omits  the  before  mountains. 

187.  Qq*  low  straines  i  S  emends 
streams. 

188.  I  insert  the  stage  directions 
after  this  line. 

178.  A,  Thou  seest  I  see  not?  Yrt 
I  spedhe  as  I  saw.  B  has  a 
comma  instead  of  the  question 
mark.  Neither  is  intoligible; 
but  Grimeston,  p.  990,  'Thon 
seest  that  I  see  nothing,  and 
yet  thou  shewest  mee  as  if 
I  did  see  plainely,*  helps  us  to 
restore  the  text.  It  is  evident 
that  Chapman  wrote  speah'st  or 
speahs,  that  a  compositor  mil- 


IjoteS 


printed  it  speaks,  ^d  that  a 
proof-reader  completed  the  oon- 
iusion  by  inserting  /  before 
speake. 
•S59>  Q^*  P^t  tlus  Une  as  two, 
ending  strike  and  soule*    It  is 


6i^ 


barely  possible  that  this  may  in- 
dicate an  intention  to  close 
B3nran's  speech  with  the  word 
strike  and  to  give  the  last  two 
and  a  hall  Ones  to  another 
speaker. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

INTRODUCTION 

The  Tragedy  of,  Chaboi,  the  last  of  Chapman's  plays  dealing  with 
French  history,  was  licensed  by  Sir*  Henry  Herbert  ^  on  April  29, 
1635,  nearly  a  year  after  the  poet's  death.  It  was  entered  in  the 
Stationers'  Registers  on  October  24,  1638,  and  published  in  1639  with 
the  following  title-page : 

The  Tragedie  of  Chabot  Admiral  of  France  :  As  it  was  presented  by 
her  Majesties  Servants,  at  the  private  House  in  Drury  Lane. 
Written  by  George  Chapman,  and  James  Shirley,  London.  Printed 
by  The,  Coles,  for  Andrew  Crooke,  and  William  Cooke,     1639. 

Only  one  quarto  is  known»  and  the  play  was  not  reprinted  until 
Dyce  induded  it  in  his  edition  of  Shirley  in  1833.  It  was  not  reprinted 
in  The  Tragedies  and  Comedies  of  George  Chapman,  1873,  but  appears  in 
The  Works  of  Chapman — Plays,  in  1874.  An  exact  reprint  of  the  quarto 
was  made  by  Dr.  Leh.man»  Philadelphia,  1906. 

Professor  Koeppel  {he.  dL)  has  shown  that  none  of  the  historians 
named  by  Langbaine  as  furnishing  the  plot  of  tiiis  play  could 
have  served  as  a  source,  and  pointed  out  that  the  true  source  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  play  was  Estienne  Pasquier's  Les  Recherches  de  la 
France,  Koeppel  found  the  story  of  Chabot's  fall  in  the  ninth  chapter 
of  the  sixth]  book  of  this  work  as  it  appeared  in  1621,  and  assumed, 
naturally  enough,  that  the  play  must  have  been  written  after  this 
date.  Ward  {English  Dramatic  Literature,  vol.  ii,  p.  444)  and  Lehman 
{op,  cit,,  p.  30)  follow  Koeppel.  But  there  are  earlier  editions  of  Pas- 
quier's  book.  The  story  of  Chabot  appears  for  the  first  time  in  the 
edition  of  1607 ;  it  is  repeated  with  a  number  of  interesting  additions 
in  that  of  z6ii ;  and  this  latter  account  is  repeated  practically  word 
for  word  in  the  edition  of  162 1.  So  far  as  Pasquier's  account  of  Chabot 
goes,  it  received  its  definitive  form  in  161 1,  in  the  twelfth  chapter  of 
the  fifth  book,  entitled  Du  proems  extraordinaire  fait,  premierement  d 
Messire  Philippe  Chabot  Admiral  de  France,  puis  A  Messire  GuiUaume 
Pouyet  Chancelier,  The  differences  between  this  account  and  the 
first  version  in  the  edition  of  1607  seem  to  be  due  to  Pasquier's  having 
in  the  interval  examined  the  reports  of  the  two  trials.  The  additions 
include  a  number  of  details  which  reappear  in  the  play.  Thus  the 
edition  of  161 1  gives  Chabot's  titles  as  they  appear,  with  one  exception, 
in  Act  II,  Scene  iii ;  it  alone  gives  the  first  words  of  the  sefntence  and 
mentions  Chabot's  exaictions  on  the  Norman  fishers  (cf.  Ill,  ii,  233-5, 
and  III,  ii,  .77-783) ;  it  alon^  gives  the  King's  phrase  '  mountains  and 
marvels'  (cf.  IV,  i,  ^24) ;  it  alone  gives  Chabot's  answer  to  the  King 
'  I  thank  God  that  m  all  my  process  there  is  no  word  of  felony '  (cf, 

^  Malone,  Variorum  Shakespeare,  Vol*  iii,  p.  233,  n. 

681 


63^ 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 


IV,  i,  252-4) ;  it  alone  gives  the  details  of  the  sentence JbronoluiCed  <MI 
Poyet  (cf.  Vj  ii,  185-95)  ;  and  it  alone  states  that  Chabot  was  so 
wounded  by  his  trial  and  unjust  condemnation  that  he  died  soon  after. 
In  short,  it  is  clear  that  Chabot  cannot  have  been  written  before  z6ii, 
and  may  have  been  written  any  time  thereafter,  before  or  after  1621. 
There  is  nothing  to  indicate  tne  exact  time;  the  approximate  date 
^vill  depend  in  some  measure  upon  the  view  we  take  of  the  natoie  of 
Shirley  s  connection  with  this  play.  Did  he  collaborate  with  Chapman 
in  its  composition,  or  did  he  revise  an  old  play  by  the  elder  poet  ?  If 
the  former,  we  must  date  it  some  time  between  1625,  when  Shirley's 
first  play  ^  was  licensed,  and  1634,  ^®  Y^^  o^  Chapman's  death,  in 
all  probability  nearer  the  latter  than  the  former  date,  for  it  is  incrediUei, 
if  the  two  had  ccdlaborated  in  the  composition  of  a  play  before  the  last 
year  or  so  of  Chapman's  life,  that  it  should  not  have  been  produced 
immediately. 

But  collaboration  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word  is  almost  incredible 
between  Chapman  and  Shirley.  The  great  disparity  of  year»  between 
them — Chapman  was  bom  in  1559,  Shirley  in  1596— would  be,  perhaps, 
even  less  a  bar  than  the  complete  unlikeness  of  their  conceptions  of 
the  drama,  particularly  of  tragedy,  their  methods  of  construction, 
their  diction  and  versification.  Chapman,  as  we  have  seen,  believed 
firmly  in  the  moral  purpose  of  tragedy, '  sententious  excitation  to  virtue'. 
To  Shirley,  as  to  his  master  Fletcher,  a  tragedy  was  primarily  a  stage- 
play,  a  thing  of  effects  calculated  to  provoke  surprise,  and  at  its  best 
to  touch  the  sensibilities  and  aronse  pity.  Chapman  was  a  laborious 
and  not  always  a  skilful  play-wright;  Shirley  was  easily  the  nuist 
deft  and  facile  composer  of  the  school  of  Fletcher.  Chapman's  diction 
is  often  obscure,  often  turgid,  but  always  weighty  with  thought; 
Shirley's  as  clear,  and  often  as  shallow,  as  a  mountain  brook.  C^p- 
man's  versification  is  regular,  somewhat  slow^moving,  but  sonorous 
and  stately ;  Shirley's  loose,  easy,  with  an  abundance  of  run  on  lines, 
at  its  woxst  littie  better  than  versified  conversation,  at  its  best  of  a 
delicate  elegiac  charm.  A  contemporary  poet,  Randolph,  whether 
thinking  of  Chapman  or  not,  hit  off  very  neauy  the  difiierence  between 
the  two.     '  Thy  Helicon  ',  he  says,  addressing  Shirley  : 

Thy  Helicon^  Uhe  a  smooth  stream  doth  flow. 
While  others  with  disturbed  channels  go. 
And  headlong  Uhe  NUe  cataracts  do  fau 
With  a  huge  noise^ 

If  we  were  to  suppose  the  possibility  of  a  collaboration  between  two 
writers  of  such  widely  different  characteristics,  it  should  be  an  easy 
task  to  analyse  their  joint  work  and  determine  their  respective  shares. 
But,  with  one  exception,  this  has  not  even  heea  attempted.  Dyce, 
the  first  editor,  says : '  Chapman  seems  to  have  written  so  large  a  portion 
of  this  play  that  I  thought  it  scarcely  admissible  in  a  collection  of 
Shirley  .  Ward  believes  it  nearly  all  Chapman's.  Swinburne  finds 
it  as  difficult  to  discover  any  trace  of  Shirley  in  Chabot  as  at  Chapman 
in* r;^  BalL    Only  Mr.  Fleay  attempts  the  task  of  separation.     He 


^i.for  the  Lady  Elisabeth's  min  pUying  at  the  CotiqgiX  in  Dniry 
Lane. 

'  As  to  the  respective  parts  of  Chapman  and  Shirley  in  this  play,  see  the 
introduction  to  The  Ball  in  vd.  ii.  I  may  say,  in  passing;  that  I  believe 
Chapman's  part  in  The  Ball  to  be  almost  nil,  and  to  have  found  its  way  there 
by^quite  another  method  than  ooUabocation* 


INTRODUCTION  633 

asserts  ^  first  that  Chapman  wrote  the  first  two  acts,  with  the  prose 
speeches  in  III,  i  (III,  ii  in  the  present  edition),  and  V,  ii,  and  goes 
on  to  say  that  he  thinks  the  play  was  written  by  Qiapman  about  1604 
(which  has  been  shown  impossible,  since  it  cannot  be  earlier  than  the 
161 1  edition  of  Punier),  and  that  Shirley  altered  and  re- wrote  the 
latter  part.  Bnt  traces  of  Shirley  seem  to  me  as  plain  in  the  first  two 
acts  as  of  Chapman  in  the  last  three.  The  easy  flow  of  the  dialogue 
in  II,  i,  for  example,  points  at  once  to  Shirley,  while  in  the  last  scene 
of  the  plar  the  elaborate  simile  of  11.  52-64  can  only  be  from  Chapman's 
hand.  The  latest  editor,  Dr.  Lehman,  states,'  I  believe,  the  tme 
conclusion,  '  that  the  play  was  originally  composed  by  Chapman  and 
revised  by  Shirley '.  1  had  come  independently  to  the  same  conclusion, 
and  a  careful  study  of  the  play  has  led  me  to  believe  that  this  revision 
was  very  careful  and  amounted  occasionally  to  the  complete  re^writing 
of  a  scene.  I  shall  go  into  details  in  the  notes  on  this  play,  but  will 
venture  here  to  state  the  results  I  have  arrived  at.  I  believe  three 
scenes  of  the  eleven  composing  the  play,  namely  I,  i,  II,  iii,  and  V,  ii, 
remain  essentially  as  Chapman  wrote  them ;  that  II,  i  and  III,  i  are 
practically  new  scenes  by  Shirley,  displacing,  in  the  first  case  at  least, 
older  work  by  Chapman ;  and  that  aJl  the  rest  of  the  play  presents  a 
ground  work  of  Chapman,  revised,  cut  down,  and  added  to  by  Shirley. 
Finally,  I  would  suggest,  though  with  no  great  positiveness,  that 
Chapman  wrote  this  play  late  in  1612  or  early  in  1613,  when  he  was 
reduced  to  poverty  by  the  death  of  his  patron,  Prince  Henry ;  that 
he  handed  it  over  to  the  company  of  the  Queen's  Revels  under  the 
management  of  his  friend,  Nat.  Field,  and  that  it  passed  from  them  to 
the  Princess  Elizabeth's  men,  with  whom  this  company  united  in  161 3, 
and  in  whose  possession  it  remained  after  they  took  the  name  of  Her 
Majesties  Servants  in  1625.  This  was  the  company  with  which  Shirley 
was  identified ;  all  his  plays,  with  but  one  exception,  The  Changes, 
from  his  d6but  until  his  depajrture  for  Ireland  in  1636,  were  composed 
for  them.  And  this  is  the  company  that  performed  Chabot, 
What  is  more  probable  than  the  conjecture  -mat  shortly  after 
Chapman's  death.  May  12,  1634,  Shirley's  attention  was  called  to 
an  old  play  by  the  famous  poet  still  in  their  possession,  and  that  he 
at  once  set  to  work  to  revise  it  for  reproduction  ?  It  needs  but  little 
acquaintance  with  Shirley's  metiiods  of  composition,  or  the  tastes 
of  the  theatre-going  public  in  the  fourth  decade  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  to  see  what  the  nature  of  this  revision  would  be.  Shirley 
would  cut  down  the  long  epic  speeches,  cut  out  as  much  as  possible 
the  sententious  moralizing,  fill  in  with  lively  dialogue,  introouce,  or 
at  least  strengthen,  the  figures  of  the  Wife  and  the  Queen  to  add  a 
feminine  interest  to  the  play,  and  in  general  make  it  over  for  the  stage 
of  his  day.  And  it  is  impoaeible  to  compare  Chabot  with  such  pla3rs 
as  The  Reeenge  of  Bussy  or  the  Byron  tragedies  without  feeling  more 
and  more  stroogly  that  this  is  exactly  what  has  happened.  The  amount 
of  its  difference  from  Chapman's  earUer  work  ia  the  measnre  of  Shizley's 
revinoB.  Bat  the  original  design  and  the  gxovndwork  of  the  play  as 
it  now  stands  is  Chapman's,  and  a  brief  sketch  of  the  main  facts  of 
Chabot's  life  and  a  summary  of  Pasquier's  account  of  his  trial  will 
show  the  materials  out  of  which  he  composed  his  work. 
Phillipe  de  Chabot,  Comte  de  Chami  and  de  Busan^ois,  was  bom 

*■  Biog,  Chfon^  voL  ii,  p.  341.  *  Intcoduction,  p.  25. 


634       THE  TRAGEDY  OP  CHABOT 

about  X480.  He  was  educated  along  with  Francis  of  Angouldme^  tbe 
heir-apparent,  and  Anne  de  Montmorenci,  his  future  rival,  at  tha 
chateau  of  Amboisey  where,  according  to  Brantdme,  Francis  promised 
when  he  came  to  the  throne  to  bestow  upon  his  companions  iSie  offices 
they  most  desired,  those  of  Admiral  and  Constable  respectively. 
Chabot  belonged  to  the  inner  circle  of  the  friends  and  advisers  of 
Francis  I,  distinguished  himself  in  the  early  wars  of  the  reign,  and  was 
taken  prisoner  with  his  King  at  Pavia.  Shortly  after  his  release  he 
was  created  Admiral  of  France,  succeeding  Bonnivet,  who  was  slain  at 
Payia.  Honours  and  titles  were  heaped  upon  him,  and  not  by  his 
sovereign  alone,  for  Henry  VIII  during  one  of  his  intermittent  ententes 
with  Francis  created  him  a  Knight  of  the  Garter  in  1532.  Toward  the 
close  of  the  reign,  however,  he  became  involved  in  Court  intrigues,  in 
which  he  represented  the  liberal  and  national  party  as  against  the 
reactionary  and  pro-Spanish  faction  of  the  Dauplnn,  Diana  of  Poitiers, 
and  the  Constable.  Montmorenci,  who  had  become  his  bitter  foe,  took 
advantage  of  Chabot's  magnificence  of  living  to  denounce  him.  as  a 
defrauder  of  the  royal  treasury,  A  series  of  charges  were  drawn  up 
and  submitted  to  Poyet,  the  Chancellor,  a  creature  of  Montmorenci, 
who  promptly  declared  that  they  contained  proof  of  twenty-five 
capital  charges.  In  an  interview  with  the  King,  Chabot  stood  so  proudly 
on  his  defence  and  spoke  so  confidently  of  his  innocence  that  Francis 
flew  into  a  passion,  threw  him  into  prison,  and  ordered  him  to  be  tried 
by  a  special  commission  presided  over  by  Poyet  The  trial  was  a 
farce.  Instead  of  the  twenty-five  capital  crimes  alleged  by  the  Chan- 
cellor, only  two  charges  could  be  substantiated,  one  of  having  imposed 
an  irn^;ular  tax  upon  the  herring  fisheries  of  Normandy,  the  other  of 
having  appropriated  certain  revenues  in  his  government  of  Burgundy. 
Upon  these,  however,  Chabot  was  found  guilty,  sentenced  to  an  enor- 
mous fine,  to  banishment,  and  confiscation  of  goods.  Poyet  revised 
the  sentence,  ioserted  with  his  own  hand  the  words  'ixdldelit^  et 
d61oyaut6 '  among  the  Ust  of  Chabot's  crimes,  and  added  'for  life ' 
to  the  sentence  of  banishment.  The  indignant  judges  at  first  refused 
to  sign  the  revised  sentence,  but  at  last  yielded  to  Poyet's  insistence 
and  threats,  on^  of  them  adding  the  word  '  vi '  in  almost  imperceptible 
characters  to  his  signature. 

Francis  at  first  approved  the  sentence,  but  soon  yielded  to  the 
prayers  of  his  mistress,  D'Estampes,^  who  from  the  beginning  had  taken 
the  Admiral'?  side,  and  i>OTnitted  Chabot  to  bring  further  testmony 
before  the  commission,  which,  at  the  first  sign  of  the  King's  returning 
favour  promptly  pronounced  him  innocent  of  Use-majesU  or  high 
treason,  and  permitted  him  to  reappear  at  Court.  On  his  first  meeting 
with  Francis  the  King  inquired,  'Do  you  still  boast  your  innocence  ?  ' 
to  which  Chabot  answered  manfully,  '  I  have  learned  that  none  is 
innocent  before  God  and  the  King,  but  I  have  at  least  this  consolation, 

1  Tavannes  in  his  Memoires  {NomeUe  Collection  des  Memoirts,  vol.  viii,  p.  roo) 
asserts  that  D'Estampes  out  of  rivadxy  with  Chabot's  wife  had  plotted  his 
ruin,  but  was  afterwards  recoDdled,  and  obtained  his  pardon  on  condition  that 
his  son  married  her  nieoe.  This  version  seems  oontrary  to  the  facts,  but 
some  such  report  may  have  su^^ested  the  Quel's  hatred  of  the  wife  of  the 
Admiral  in  the  play,  and  her  later  reconciliation  and  plea  for  Chabot's  pardon. 
Yet  neither  Chapman  nor  Shirley  can  have  seen  Tavannes'  Memoires,  which 
although  composlBd  before  1630,  do  not  appear  to  have  been  puldished  until 
1657. 


INTRODUCTION  635,, 

tkat  all  the  xnalke  of  my  enemies  could  not  find  me  guilty  of  any  want 
of  faith  toward  your  Majesty '.  Chabot  was  pardoned  by  letters 
patent  on  March  xz,  154X1  re-instated  in  his  offices,  and  speedily  avenged 
on  his  enemies*  The  Constable  was  disgraced,  the  Chancellor  was  sent 
to  the  Bastille.  But  Chabot  never  recovered  from  the  shock  of  his  trial, 
and  died  two  years  after'his  pardon,  on  June  15, 1543.  Brant6me  says  ^ 
that  betoe  tus  death  his  pulse  stopped  and  could  no  longer  be  felt  by 
the  most  expert  physician.  Two  years  after  iiis  death  the  Chancellor 
was  brought  to  trial,  heavily  sentenced,  and  declared  incapable  of 
holding  ofi&ce  hereafter..  The  same  judges  who  pronounced  the  sen- 
tence declared  a>t  the  same  time  that  the  former  sentence  on  Chabot 
had  been  from  tjbe  beginning  null  and  void.  The  King,  who,  according 
to  one  report,  had  .wished  for  a  sentence  of  death  on  Chabot  that  he 
might  make  a  greater  show  of  magnanimity  by  pardoning  him,  was 
far  from  satisfi^  with  the  severity  of  Poyet's  sentence,  and  declared, 
'  In  my  youth  I  heard  say  that  a  Chancellor  who  lost  his  office  ought 
to  lose  his  head  '. 

Pasquier's  account,  on  which,  as  we  have  seen.  Chapman  mainly,  if 
not  altogether  reUed,  differs  in  several  important  particulars  from  the 
sketch  given  above.  He  eliminates  aU  mention  of  the  parts  played  by 
the  Constable  and  the  Duchess  P'Estampes '  in  bringing  about  Chabot's 
fall  and  procuring  his  pardon.  He  reduces  the  whole  story  to  a  personal 
contest  between  a  great  nobleman,  a  loyal  and  devoted,  if  somewhat 
bold  and  over-confident,  servant  of  the  King,  and  an  arbitrary  monarch, 
weary  of  his  former  favourite,  and  determined  at  any  cost  to  break  his 
will  and  humble  his  pretensions.  He  contrasts  the  maUce  and  servility 
of  Poyet  with  the  frank  and  independent  loyalty  of  Chabot,  and,  in 
turn,  with  the  fnndamental  generosity  of  the  King,  who  after  his  first 
burst  of  passion  had  h^id  and  heart  enough  to  recognize  that  the 
unbending  Admiral  was  a  truer  and  better  servant  than  the  pliant 
Chancellor,  ready  to  stoop  to  the  most  disgraceful  means  to  carry 
out  a  passing  whim  of  his  monarch.  Finally  he  touched  briefly, 
but  pointedly,  on  the  fatal  blow  infficted,  though  unwittingly^  by  the 
King  upon  his  old  friend  and  servant :  '  Le  coup  toutes  fois  du  premier 
arrest  Tulcera  [Chabot]  de  tdle  fa^n  qu'H  ne  survesquit  pas  longue- 
ment '. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  realize  the  appeal  that  Pasquier's  account  must 
have  made  to  a  poet  and  thinker  of  Chapman's  temperament  and 
opinions.  Here  he  found  a  vivid  and  dramatic  presentation  of  his  old 
theme,  the  struggle  of  the  individual  against  his  environment.  The 
individual  was  a  figure  of  heroic  proportions,  a  great  noble,  a  king's 

^  Grandts  CapUainss  Franfois,  chap.  6i. 

*  Koeppel,  followed  by  Lehman,  suggests  that  Chapman's  unpleasant 
experience  in  bringing  a  king's  mistress  upon  the  stage  m  the  Byron  plays 
had  taught  htm  a  lesson,  and  that  he  consequently  substituted  the  Queen  for 
the  mistress  of  Francis  I  as  the  intercessor  for  Chabot.  But  the  real  scandal 
in  the  first  instance  was  not  the  mere  introduetion  of  the  mistress  of  Henry  IV, 
but  the  wholly  unseemly  staging  of  her  quarrel  with  Henry's  wile,  a  ouarrel 
in  which  [bitter  words  were  succeeded  by  blows.  Chapman  could  hardly 
have  feared  that  the  natural  protest  of  the  French  Ambassador  on  the  fonner 
occasion  would  have  been  repeat^  if  he  had  introduced  the  long  deceased 
mistress  of  Francis  I  in  the  not  ungracious  r61e  of  suppliant  for  a  fallen  favourite. 
I  should  attribute  his  omission  of  the  part  played  Dy  this  lady  to  Pasquier*s 
silence  on  her  score. 


636      THE  TRAGEDY  OP  CHABOT 

favoiirit6|  a  loyal  servant,  whose  only  fonlt  was  an  over-confidence  in 
1^  innocence,  a  fault  which  we  may  well  believe  Chapman  would  be 
the  last  to  censure  harshly.    And  since  this  individual  was  unjustly 
accused  and,  though  outwardly  triumphant,  perished  from  the  inward 
wounds  received  in  the  unequal  combat,  he  became  in  Chapman's 
transforming  imagination  the  embodiment  of  the  two  noblest  virtues 
of  the  individual  considered  as  a  member  of  the  state  organism,  loyalty 
and  the  love  of  justice.    Chabot  is  a  far  more  sympathetic  figure  Hian 
either  Bussy  or  Clermont,  and  he  is  whoUy  free  from  the  tragic  guilt  of 
Byron.    In  fact  in  Chabot  we  have  a  complete  reversal  of  the  sitaatioo 
and  the  problem  of  the  Conspiracy  and  Tragedy  of  Byron.    The  problem 
of  these  plays  is  to  determine  the  extent  of  the  individual's  rights  as 
against  the  State ;  the  problem  of  Chabot  is  to  fix  the  limits  of  the  power 
of  tht  State,  embodied  in  an  absolute  monarch,  over  the  individual. 
But  whereas  in  the  earlier  plasrs  the  champion  of  individual  liberty  is 
a  reckless  egoist,  in  the  later  he  is  a  loyal  subject  who  claims  only 
the  right  to  serve  the  cause  of  justice  according  to  his  own  conscience 
within,  and  for  the  benefit  of,  the  States   Where  B3non  takes  all  Ins 
rewards  and  honours  as  poor  and  partial  payment  of  his  merits,  Chabot 
considers  them  only  as  means  which  enable  him  to  serve  more  freely 
and  effectively.    He  is  not  unthankful  like  Byron,  but  since  the  goal 
on  which  he  has  fixed  his  eyes  is  no  selfish  ambition,  he  will  not  permit 
his  course  to  be  impeded  by  personal  favours  bestowed  on  him  by  the 
King.    Chabot's  attitude  toward  Francis  is  very  much  that  of  the  great 
Dul^  of  Sully  toward  Henry  IV.  In  fact,  the  incident  of  his  tearing  the 
bill  signed  by  the  King  may  have  been  suggested  by  the  weU-known 
story  of  Sully's  tearing  his  master's    mad  promise  of  marriage  to 
Henriette  D'Entragues.    But  neither  the  Henry  IV  of  history  nor  the 
ideal  figure  of  Chapman's  plays  would  have  treated  a  lojral  subject  as 
Ftancis  treats  Chabot.  Following  along  the  Hnes  suggested  by  Pasquier, 
Chapman  represents  Francis  as  engaging  in  the  contest  with  Chabot 
out  of  a  mere  whim  to  show  his  power.    He  has  no  interest  in  the  suc- 
cess of  Montmorenci's  cause,  and  shows  no  anger  at  the  supposed 
outrage  Chabot  has  committed  upon  the  royal  signature.    There  is  at 
first  no  principle  involved ;   but  as  the  contest  goes  on  and  Chabot 
declines  to  jricud,  the  two  opposing  principles  come  clearly  into  view. 
Upon  the  one  side  we  see  absolute  monarchy,  with  its  insistence 
upon  unquestioning  obedience ;   upon  the  other  individual   liberty, 
limiting  the  extent  of  obedience  by  the  claims  of  conscience.   The  great 
third  scene  of  the  second  act— a  scene  almost  free  from  any  touch  of 
Shirley's  hand — ^r^resents  a  contest  of  wills  such  as  we  see  hardly 
anywhere  else  in  Chapman.    Chabot  emerges  unshaken  from  the 
contest,  but  his  arbitrary  master,  roused  to  the  highest  point  by  his 
servant's  opposition,  resolves,  since  he  cannot  b^d,  to  break  hhn, 
thinking  vamly  that  he  can  hereafter  repair  the  injury  and  r^ain  an 
instrument  .as  trusty  as  before  and  more  pliable.    But,  to  quota 
the  words  which  Chapman  puts  in  the  King's  mouth  a  little  latec 

(IV,  i,  a«9-9o): 

Thi$  was  too  wHd  a  way  to  mak$  hit  nurits 
Stoop  and  ack$towUdg£  my  supsrior  bountiis  ; 

and  Chabot,  although  restored  to  the  sunshine  of  the  103^  favour, 
feels  the  ice  of  death  creep  over  his  heart,  and  dies  at  last  at  the  long's 
feet  with  a  prayer  that  hts  master  may  have  no  less  faithful  servants. 


INTRODUCTION  637 

If  the  Byron  plays  ware  a  solemii  proclamation  that  the  days  of 
nniestrained  individualism  were  over,  Chabot  is  no  less  solemn  a  warning 
to  the  absolute  monarcha  of  the  new  age.  Its  text  might  be  found  in  a 
couple  of  lines  from  the  prayer  of  Henry  in  Bynm's  Trag$dy  (IV,  ii, 
79-82) : 

O  how  tmuh  j 

Err  ihoss  kingt,  ikm,  that  play  wiih  Ufs  and  death. 

Chapman,  like  most  thinking  men  of  his  day,  believed  in  absolute 
monarchy,  but  he  held  that  the  monuch  could  be  absolute  without 
bdng  arbitrary.  He  has  carefully  avoided  painting  Francis  as  the 
t3rpiail  tyrant  of  Elizabethan  drama,  and  his  made  his  tragic  guilt 
consist  simply  in  the  fact  that  he  prefers  his  own  unreasoned  ^nH  to  his 
subject's  demand  for  justice.  The  lesson  of  the  tragedy  is  the  necessity 
for  the  free  play  of  the  individual  within  the  limits  of  the  state  organism, 
or,  to  put  it  more  concretely,  the  duty  of  the  absolute  monarch  to 
respect  the  liberty  of  the  loyal  subject.  This  was  a  lesson  at  once 
ne(Mied  and  unheeded  by  Chapman's  own  kings,  James  and  Charles, 
and  its  neglect  was  one  of  the  prime  causes  which  brought  about 
within  a  generation  the  tragic  downfaU  of  the  ancient  moniuxhy  of 
England. 

Such,  it  seems  to  me,  was  Chapman's  dominant  idea  in  the  composition 
of  this  play,  and  it  is  immensely  to  Shirley's  credit,  that,  courtier  and 
royalist  as  he  was,  his  revising  hand  has  left  the  strong  and  simple 
lines  of  the  original  conception  so  clearly  visible  in  the  work  which 
appeared  under  both  their  names. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABDT 

NOTES 

Dramatis  Pbssonab 

The  first  quarto  prints  the  names  of  the  actors  nndo:  the  heading 
Spioksrs,  This  list  was  reflated  by  ^  Dyoe  and  again  by  Shepherd.  It  is, 
however,  so  confusing  and  mcomplete  that  I  have  judged  it  best  to  transfer 
it  to  the  Text  Notes  (p.  649)  and  to  substitute  a  new  and  correct  list  of  the 
dramatis  personae,    I  add  here  a  few  words  as  to  some  of  these. 

Xontmoiinoy*  Anne  de  Montmorend,  1492-1567,  was  educated  along 
with  Francis  I  and  Chabot,  and  was  taken  prisoner  with  them  at  Pavia.  In 
Z535  he  repelled  Charles  V*s  invasion  of  Provence,  and  was  rewarded  ¥dth  the 
office  of  Constable  of  France.  In  the  latter  years  of  the  reign  of  Erands  he 
headed  the  pro-Spanish  and  reactionary  party  at  the  French  Court,  and  fell 
from  power  after  bis  quarrel  with  Chabot  in  1 541 .  He  retiumed  to  power  under 
Henry  II,  was  captured  at  St.  Quentin  in  1557,  and  was  killed  at  St.  Denis 
fighting  against  the  Huguenots.  He  appears  to  have  been  a  violent,  ambitious, 
and  unscrupulous  nobleman,  and  there  is  little  or  nothing  in  the  accounts 
of  his  life  to  justify  the  favourable  portrait  presented  to  us  in  this  play. 

Poyet  Guillaume  Poyet,  ca.  1474-1548,  son  of  an  advocate  at  Angers, 
distinguished  himself  in  the  legal  profession,  and  becanxe  Advocate-General 
in  1531  and  Chancellor  in  1558.  He  took  part  in  the  attack  on  Chabot, 
inspected  the  charges  brought  against  him,  and  presided  at  his  trial.  When 
Montmorency  was  cusgraced,  Poyet  shared  his  fall  and  was  sent  to  the  Bastille. 
After  three  years*  imprisorunent  he  was  tried,  condemned,  and  heavily  sen- 
tenced. 

Alkgn.  D*Aldgre  was  the  name  of  a  prominent  family  of  Auvergne,  but  I 
can  find  nothing  to  connect  any  membor  of  this  f anxily  with  Chabot. 

The  QoMD.  Eleanor  of  Austria,  dowager  Queen  of  Portugal  and  sister  of 
Charles  V,  became  the  second  wife  of  ^ands  I  in  1530.  Her  sympathies 
would  naturally  have  been  with  Montmorency  and  against  Chabot. 

The  Wife.  Castelnau,  Memowes^  vol.  a,  p.  563,  edition  of  1731,  gives  her 
name  as  Ftan^oise  de  Longrie.  Her  mother,  Jeanne  D'Angoultaie,  was  a 
bastard  half-sister  of  Ftands  I,  so  that  Chabot  was  connected  by  marriage 
with  his  King. 


I,  L    This  scene  seems  to  me  almost  pure  Chapman,  though  it  may  have  been 

cut,  and  perhaps  arranged,  by  Shirley. 
I,  it  88-7S.    This  smiile  is  a  favourite  one  with  Chapman ;  cf.  AU  FoolSt  I,  ii  47-8 

A  cozening  pichtfe,  which  one  way 
Shows  like  a  crow,  another  like  a  ewan; 

and  OviiPs  Banquet  of  Sense  (1595)1  where  a  statue  is  described — 

So  cunningly  to  of  He  reason  wrought 
That  afar  off  it  showd  a  woman*s  face. 
Heavy  and  weepings  but  more  nearly  wew'd. 
Nor  weeping,  heavy,  nor  a  woman,  showed. 

Poems,  p.  aa-3, 

iSesTeztNofeei^p.648. 
689 


640  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

IfUM-lAL  These  lines  appear,  with  a  few  slight  cfaaag|»,  in  A  Hymm  to  Chnti 

upon  the  Cross  published  z6i2  {Poems,  p.  147).    The  passage  in   Chabet 

seems  to  me  a  somewhat  improved  verslQa,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  this 

.    hidps  us  to  date  the  play  more  closely,  since  the  poem  in  question  may 

have  been  written  some  time  before  1612. 

I9  i,  US.  The  comparison  of  an  alliance  of  policy  or  marriage  to  the  GocdiaD 
knot  occurs  in  Buasy,  TV,  i,  226-7. 

I.I.U8-S.    a.  Busty,  11, 1,9^: 

hit  rnrUd  bromt 
Which  he  had  oft  wrtkpt  in  th$  thy  with  storms. 

L  U  1S7.    Avertation :  a  Chapman  word.    It  occurs  in  his  translation  of  the 

Iliad  (XXII,  2ZS/),  and  in  Tht  Reomge  of  Busty,  III,  iv,  8. 
I,  i,  190.    CircUt  being  caWd  ambitious  lines.    There  is  probably  a  pun  here  on 

the  etymological  meaning  of  ambittoutt,  from  ambire,  and  its  ordinary 

sense. 
L  i*  IM.    This  metaphor,  which  likens  the  mind  of  a  courtier  to  a  pliant  piece 

of  leather,  is  found  in  a  s<»newhat  altered  form  in  Byron* t  Tragedy,  Y,  iii, 

56-7. 
L  it  196-968.    This  contrast  between  a  ttanding  lahe  and  a  river  gatheriog 

strength  as  it  flows  reappears  in  Chapman's  Of  Friendship,  one  of  the  poems 

attatcbed  to  Petrarch's  Seven  Penitenttal  Psahnt,  z6z2  {Poems,  p.  Z56).     The 

simile  df  the  liver  is  found  also  in  De  Guiana,  Z596  {Poems,  p.  50).  I  fancy 

that  the  short  line  in  this  passage  (1.  200)  points  to  an  omission,  for  the 

simile  in  Chabot  is  much  shorter  tnan  in  the  psrallel  passages. 
h  U  909.    The  subject  of  drown  is  envy. 
It  U  90.    Statists :  a  recurrent  word  in  Chapman.   See  Byron*s  Tragedy,  V,  iv, 

233,  and  Caeta/r  and  Pompey,  I,  i,  9Z. 
1^  U  9tB>    I  take  this  line  to  be  an  ejaculation — ^half  aside  perhaps — called 

forth  by  Montmorencjr's  reluctant  consent  to  the  plot  against  Chabot. 

It  mifht  be  paraphrased  :  '  Why  that's  right ;  we  shall  make  something 

out  €a  him  [Montmorency]  yet '. 
I,  IL    Shirley's  hand  is  visible,  I  think,  at  the  beginning  of  this  scene  and 

elsewhere,  but  the  bulk  of  the  scene  is  undoubtedly  Chapman's. 
I»  ii,  99.     Your  either' t :   an  archaic  use,  but  later  by  many  years  than  the 

example  (Z548)  of  the  inflected  use  of  either  as  a  pronoun  given  in  the  New 

Enghth  Dicttonary ;  cf.  Chapman's  Odyttey,  IV,  79 : 

Youf  either  perton  in  his  pretence  brings. 

It  iip  6l^-9*  A  mfllstone  is  said  to  be  *  picked '  when  its  smfsoe  has  been 
freshly  indented  so  that  it  may  grina  better.  Cf.  a  line  In  Chapman's 
Hymn  to  Christ  upon  the  Crots : 


Blu$Us  the  pich*d  quarry  to,  'Ivitf  grind  no  more. 

Poems,  p.  144. 

It  ii,  68L  Ati,ihit  Grecian  goddess  of  strife,  daughter  of  Zeus,  who  hurled  her 
from  heaven  for  having  conspked  with  Hera  against  Hercules.  See 
lUad^  XIX,  9z,  teq,,  and  Z26,  teq,i 

AU  things  are  done  by  Strife,  that  ancient  teed  of  Jove, 
At^  OuUhmit  all. 

*Ati,  thai  had  wrought 
Thit  anger  by  Satumia,  by  her  bright  hair  he  caught 
....    Thut,  twinging  her  about, 
'  He  cast  her  from  the  fiery  heaven. 

Chapman's  Iliad. 

%,  ii«  191*  199.  Wo'nci.  This  ancestor  of  oar  modem  colloquial  'won't* 
does  not  appear  in  any  other  play  by  Chapman.  Its  presence  in  the  text 
fiia^  be  regarded  as  a  sure  sign  of  Shirley's  revising  hapd.    Sh|rley,  ijki; 

\  ffomfr^ilimaa40^ttejf,f.  t^ 


NOTES  641 

his  master  Fletcher,  is  f<md  of  using  oolloqiiial  contractions,  snch  as 
•wo'not*,  'sha'nof,  'sha't',  *  don't*,  *wo't*,etc.  Most  of  these  have 
been  unfortunately  expunged  from  his  text  as  edited  by  Dyce,  and  the 
student  must  turn  back  to  the  old  copies  to  find  them.  In  one  play,  The 
Duhifs  Mistress,  I  have  counted  ten  instances  of  '  wo'not ',  eleven  of 
'  sha'not ',  four  of  '  wo't ',  and  three  of  '  sha*t '.  I  have  preserved  all 
such  forms  in  this  text,  as  well  as  in  the  other  play  published  as  by  Chapman 
and  Shirley,  The  Ball,  in  the  second  volume  of  this  edition. 

It  ll»  lM-45,  There  is  no  mention  of  this  case  of  the  honest  merchani  in 
Pasquier,  who  attributes  Chabot's  fall  to  the  fickleness  of  the  King — 
'  aussi  commen^-il  [Francis]  avecq'  le  temps  de  se  lasser  de  luy  [Chabot  J,  & 
en  fin  H  luv  despleut  tout  k  fait '.  Chapman,  or  Shirley,  may  have  heard  of 
this  case  from  other  accounts  of  Chabot's  trial,  or  it  may  have  been  in- 
vented to  motivate  his  fall  otherwise  than  in  the  chief  source.  Incidents 
ol  this  sort  were  not  uncommon  in  the  days  of  the  Tudors  and  Stuarts. 
The  league  mentioned  in  1.  125  is  the  treaty  signed  at  Nice  in  1538,  by 
which  peace  was  maintained  between  France  and  Spain  until  1542. 

%  U9  UMb    With  the  diction  of  these  lines  cf.  Caesar  and  Pompey,  III,  i,  61-3  • 

So  ha/oe  I  seen  a  fife-drake  glide  at  midnight 
Before  a  dying  man  to  point  his  grave, 
And  in  it  stick  and  hide, 

I  ^  109.    With  these  words  Chabot  tears  the  bill ;   cf.  the  next  scene  (II, 

It  L  This  scene  in  metre,  diction,  and  ease  of  dialogue,  seems  to  me  wholly 
the  work  of  Shirley.  It  must  have  been  written  to  replace  a  similar  scene 
in  the  original  play,  unless,  as  is  quite  possible,  the  mddent  of  Chabot's 
tearing  the  bill  witn  the  King's  name  is  an  invention  of  Shirley's.  It  does 
not  appear  in  Pasquier.  Signs  of  Shirlejr's  hand  are  seen  in  such  heavy 
enjambements  as  appear  in  11.  11  and  27,  and  in  the  dissolution  of  the  final 
'ion  in  a  word  occurring  within  the  line,  1.  35.  Shirley  seems  to  have 
caught  this  trick  from  Bfaasinger,  with  whom  it  is  very  freouent.  I  note 
thirteen  instances  of  such  a  dissolution  in  Shirley's  Cardinal, 

%  U  8S-9*  This  reminiscence  of  Julius  Caesar,  I,  ii,  135-^1  seems  to  me  rather 
like  Shirley  than  Chapman. 

B^  i,  4ft-7*  This  mention  of  the  Queen's  jealousy  of  Chabot's  wife  is  intro- 
duced evidently  to  lead  up  to  the  sudden  and  unexpected  conversion  of 
the  Queen  into  a  partisan  of  the  Admiral.  Such  sudden  chang^ 
theatrically  effective,  rather  than  psychdogicaUy  true,  are  characteristic 
of  the  later  drama.  I  think  it  possible  that  the  parts  of  the  Wife  and  the 
Queen  were  entirely  composed,  or  greatly  enlarged,  by  Shirley  to  add  a 
feminine  interest  to  Chapman's  play. 

n;  IL  This  scene  is  essentially  Chapman's,  although  Shirley's  revising  hand 
is  oocasionallv  visible.  Thus  the  first  ten  lines  may  be  Shirley's,  but  the 
speech  of  Allegro  (H,  zz-26)  is  characteristically  Chapman's.  Note  the 
phrase  etUei^d  minion,  (1. 13)  and  compart  enter  a  courHer,  Bussy,  I,  ii,  83.  Note 
the  elaborate  and  invdved  construction  of  11.  X4''X9  whidi  evidently 
pnzsled  the  compositors,  or  proof-reader,  of  the  quarto  (see  Text  Notes,  p.  630) . 
Note  the  classical  reference  to  the  Cyclops  (L  20)  as  the  artificer  ai  Vulcan, 
a  repeated  reference  in  Chapman,  Bussy,  IV,  ii,  37 ;  Caesar  and  Pompey, 
II,  V,  4. 

n^  U,  8S-7.  Compare  this  figure  of  innocence  protecting  against  wild  beasts 
with  the  same  idea  in  Bussy,  IV,  i,  182-4*  The  image  of  the  shield  was 
suggested  by  a  phrase  put  by  Pasquier  into  Chabot's  month :  *  Qu'il 
faisoit  pavois  de  sa  conscience '. 

II»  il»  68.  This  use  of  digest  is  characteristic  of  Chapman.  See  Bussy,  IV, 
1,  164  ;  Revenge  of  Bussy,  V,  1,  2  ;  Caesar  and  Pompey,  II,  v,  9. 

lU  iif  84-5.  Cf .  a  parallel  passage  in  Byron* s  Conspiracy,  l,  ii,  40-4f  &i^d  another 
in  Chai)man's  early  poem,  The  Shadow  of  Kight,  1394  {Poems,  p.  7)«  Here, 
addressing  Hercules,  he  says  : 

C.D.W*  T  T 


642       THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

Bend  thy  hraun  how  against  the  sim. 
As  in  Tartessus  when  thou  hadst  begun 
Thy  task  of  oxen. 

In  the  gloss  on  this  passage  (Poems,  p.  9),  he  says :  '  Here  he  [i.e.  the 
poet,  Chapman  himsell]  alludes  to  the  fiction  of  Hercules,  that  In  his  labour 
at  Tartessus  fetching  away  the  oxen,  being  (more  than  he  liked)  heat  with 
the  beams  of  the  Sun,  he  bent  his  bow  against  him,  etc  Ut  ait  Pherecides 
in  3.  lib,  Historiarum* 

Ht  ilL  This  scene  is  essentially  Chapman's.  It  is  possible  that  a  cut  made 
by  Shirley  has  led  to  the  confusion  at  I.  134  (see  Text  Notes  p.  651),  but 
I  can  see  no  other  trace  of  the  younger  dramatist. 

II»  Hi,  U.    Spoken  with  a  contemptuous  gesture. 

n,  ill,  17-^  ti.  Summum  jus  summa  injuria.  Cicero,  De  Offtciis,  I,  z,  33,  dtes 
this  as  a  ^overb  already  threadbare. 

n^  iii,  86.  Tlie  subject  of  should  thunder  is '  they '  understood,  Le.  honours 
and  fortunes  J  d.  I.  24.  This  omission  of  the  subject  when  it  can  be  supplied 
from  the  context  is  frequent  in  Chapman. 

II,iii,60.    Fore* d  issues  :  this  trial  of  strength  which  has  been  forced  upon  me. 

n,  ill,  68^74.  This  list  of  Chabot's  honours  and  offices  is,  with  one  exception, 
taken  direct  from  Pasquier,  p.  569  :  '  Car  il  estoit  Chevalier  de  VOrdre, 
Admiral  de  Ftanoe,  Lieutenant  General  du  Roy  au  pais  &  Duch6  de 
Bourgongne,  Conscdller  au  oonseil  Phvi,  &  en  outre  Lieutenant  General 
de  Monsieur  le  Dauphin  aux  Gouvemements  de  Dauphin6  et  de  Nor- 
mandie '.  The  title  '  Count  Byzanges ',  I.  69,  is  an  anglldsing  of  Chabot's 
title  of  Comte  de  Buzan^ois  (see  Laboreur-Castelnau,  vol.  ii,  p.  367). 
The  Order  (I.  68)  is  that  of  Saint  Michael,  see  note  on  Byron*s  Tragedy, 
V,  iv,  99.    This  verbal  fidelity  to  the  source  is  a  sure  mark  of  Chapman. 

n,  Hi,  8&~v8.  With  this  passage  compare  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  219-23. 
The  verbal  similarity  shows  them  to  be  by  the  same  hand. 

n^  iii,  106-1.  *  Comparing  my  bounties  and  your  services  in  order  to  measure 
their  respective  depths.' 

n^  iii,  107-15.  The  King's  threat  and  Chabot*s  answer  come  direct  from 
Pasquier,  p.  569  :  '  Un  jour  entre  autres  il  [Francis]  le  menaga  de  le  mettre 
*  ^  mains  de  ses  Juges,  pour  luy  estre  fait  son  proc6s  extraordinaire.  A 
quoy  TAdmiral  ne  remettant  devant  ses  yeux  oombien  c'est  chose  danger- 
euse  de  se  jouer  i^  son  Maistre,  luy  respondit  d'une  fagon  fort  altiere,  que 
c'estoit  ce  qu'il  demandoit,  s^achant  sa  conscience  si  nette,  qu'il  ne  pouvoit 
estre  faite  aucune  bresche,  ny  k  ses  biens,  ny  ik  sa  vie,  nv  ^  on  hoonenr. 
.  .  .  Cette  response  despleust  tant  au  Roy,  que  soudain  il  fit  deoemerune 
commission  contre  luy '. 
With  L  112  cf.  Caesar  and  Pompey,  III,  i,  36 : 

Free  mindSf  like  dice,  fail  square  what^er  the  cast. 

n,  iii,  1S4.    Swinge  :  one  of  Chapman's  favourite  words. 

n^  iii,  127-W.  The  King's  argument  in  brief  is  that  a  statesman  who  has 
pursued  the  common  way  of  the  King^s  favour  in  quest  of  riches,  honaars, 
offices,  must,  like  other  statesmen  of  the  time,  have  his  faults  (1.  139 ;  cf. 
Byron^s  Conspiracy,  IV,  i,  195-8)  and  cannot  rightly  pretend  to  that 
impeccable  justice  which  Chabot  claims.  The  text,  I  think,  has  been  cut 
about  L  23^  (see  Text  Notes,  p.  651). '  I  have  arranged  it  to  make  sense  by 
putting  inform  him,  i.e.  '  let  him  know ',  in  parenthesis,  but  I  am  not 
sure  that  this  was  its  original  construction.  In  1.  140  I  take  reason  as 
a  verb,  '  reason  with  yourself ',  '  weigh  it  well '. 

n^  Ui,  144-6.  Compare  similar  figures  in  V,  i,  3&-9,  and  V,  iii,  182-4.  There 
is  a  somewhat  similar  figure  in  Shirley's  The  DiA^s  Mistress  (1636),  III,  iii : 

You  Jtia 
My  ambition  with  a  frown,  and  mth  one  angry 
Lightning  shot  from  your  eye  turn  me  to  ashes. 

Q,  iii,  161.  Grave  toys ;  trifles  exaggerated  to  criminal  acts  by  the  lawyer's 
perverse  ingenuity. 


i  . 


NOTES  643 

U,  iiL  IM.    Hiis  t*  fh*  Ueth :  reproaches  the  receiver  with  the  gilt. 

n»  m»  166.    '  In  giving  merits  their  due  rewards.' 

lit  ill*  172.    A  moist  pahn  was  a  sign  of  liberality,  as  a  dry  and  itching  one 

was  ol  avarice  and' greed;    d.  OtheUo,  III,  iv,  31-8,  and  Julius  Caesar, 

IV,  iii,  ^12. 
lit  iti,  186.    Paotan  ihraldom :  Francis  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Spanish  at 

the  battle  oi  Pavia,  1525,  and  suffered  a  harsh  imprisonment  at  Madrid. 

He  was  osily  released  on  the  most  humiliating  conoitions. 
Ut  ill,  209.  Tlie  Chancdlor  pretends  to  think  that  the  King  is  laying  a  trap 

for  him. 
U9  iiif  226-6.  This  metaphor,  which  likens  Justice  to  a  royal  eagle  in  fiery 

flight,  reminds  one  of  Bussy,  III,  ii,  4-5 : 

Thou  shaU  be  my  eagle, 
And  beof  my  thunder  underneath  thy  wings. 

See  note  ad  Jac 

VJ,  L  This  scene  seems  to  me  almost  wholly  the  work  of  Shirley.  The 
simplicity  and  clearness  of  diction  and  construction,  the  lively  malogue, 
the  occasional  heavy  enjambements  (see  11.  125,  149,  150),  and  the  abbrevi- 
ations '  don't ',  1.  6,  '  sha'  not ',  L  19,  '  wo*  not  *,  1.  lox,  all  point  to  the 
younger  dramatist.  The  elaboration  of  the  Queen's  jealousv  of  the  wife, 
and  the  Queen's  sudden  change  of  heart,  are  also  in  the  style  of  the  later 
drama.  The  whole  scenes  in  short,  b  at  once  too  simple,  too  ludd  and  too 
sentimental  to  be  the  work  of  Chapman. 

in,  i,  28-81.  There  may  be  a  reference  here  to  the  glass  furnaces  erected  in 
or  near  Ixmdon  by  Sir  Robert  Mansell  some  time  between  1616,  when  he 
received  a  share  in  the  monopoly  of  glass  making,  and  1623,  when  he  con- 
fessed to  the  failure  of  these  furnaces.  They  doubtless  excited  much 
interest  among  the  London  citizens. 

m;  i,  86.  Planet-struck :  I  have  noted  this  expression,  meaning  'struck  with 
sudden  fear,'  'bewildered,'  twice  over  in  one  olShurley's  plays»  TheMaid^s 
Revenge,  III,  i,  and  V,  iii.  It  does  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  occur  anywhere 
in  Chapman. 

m*  U  46.  My  lord,  i.e.  Montmorency,  who  goes  to  summon  the  wife  into  the 
Queen's  presence,  while  the  latter  contmues  her  conversation  with  the 
Treasurer. 

in,  i,  108-10.    Cf.  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  I,  ii,  172 :  ] 

So  hares  may  putt  dead  lions  by  the  beard* 

See  also  King  John,  II,  i,  Z37i  where  this  expression  is  spdken  of  as  a 
'  proverb. 
III»  i,  166-7.    To  vie  ,  ,  ,  passion :  the  phrase  Is  taken  from  the  language 

of  gaming.    See  note  on  Byron* s  Tragedy,  IV,  ii,  107. 
in,  i*  168-6.    This  dogma  of  unquestioning  obedience  is  certainly  Shiiley's, 
not  Chapman's.    Compare  as  a  contrast  Strozza's  weU-known  speech  in 
The  Gentleman  Usher,  V,  iv,  56-60,  quoted  on  j^.  552. 
in,  I,  181.    This  line  seems  an  echo  of  a  passage  in  The  Widot^s  Tears,  V. 
m,  45-6 i 

Truth*  pace  is  aU  upright,  sound  eoerywhere. 
And  like  a  die  sets  ever  on  a  square, 

m,  i,  216-6,  218-26.  The  friendly  spirit  displayed  by  Montmorency  for 
Chabot  in  these  lines  and  the  regret  he  feds  mr  the  false  position  in  which 
Court  intrigues  have  placed  him  is,  of  course,  quite  unhistoricaL  See  the 
Introduction  to  this  play. 

in,  iL  This  scene  is  alxnost  wholly  Chapman's.  The  elaborate  xvose  speeches 
are  much  more  in  his  style  than  Shirley's ;  and  the  fidelity  with  which 
the  author  reproduces  his  sources  is  also  a  mxak  of  the  older  writer.  Shirlev 
has  touched  up  the  scene  here  and  there,  and  seems  to  have  imitated  it 
in  The  Traitor,  III,  i.  If  this  be  so,  Shirley  must  have  known  Chabot  in 
MS.  before  1631. 


644 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 


m,  H  58-^.    With  the  pun  on  BnOits,  ci  Hamkt,  III,  U»  zo9>zo. 

nit  ii*  6L  Chopped  logic :  a  once  familiar  phrase  in  whidi  the  verb  has 
the  okd  sense  of  *  chop ',  ie.  '  barter ',  '  exchange '.  The  phrase,  however, 
always  implies  irreverent  or  unbecoming  argmnent  with  a  supedor,  as  of 
a  child  with  a  parent,  or  a  subject  with  a  king.    Cf.  AU  Fools,  I,  ii,  51. 

m,  li»  77-88»  Pasquier,  pp.  570-z,  cites  the  beginning  of  the  sentence  upon 
Cbabot.  It  declares,  with  much  verbiage  as  to  the  Admiral's  disloyalty 
and  oppression,  that  he  has  '  sous  ombre  de  son  Admlraut6,  pris  &  exig% 
in  annees  1536  &  trente  et  sept  vingt  sous  sur  les  pescheurs  de  la  coste  de 
Normandie,  qui  es  dites  annees  ont  est6  auz  harengaisons,  &  la  somme 
de  six  Uvres  sur  chacun  bateau  qui  estoit  all6  aux  macquereaux  '.  Pasquier 
remarks  that  no  greater  misdeeds  were  alleged  against  Chabot,  and  that 
this  abuse  might  easily  have  been  remedied  by  a  royal  edict  without  any 
scandaL 

m,  ii,  80.  Poor  Johns :  I  find  this  slang  tenn  for  sailors  in  Shirlejr's  Ths 
Duke's  Mistress,  U,  I 

ISL  iif  88«  Entbers :  four  periods  of  fasting  of  three  days  each,  appointed  by 
the  Council  of  Placentia  (1095)  for  the  Wednesday,  Ftiday  and  Saturday 
after  (a)  the  first  Sunday  in  Lent,  (b)  Whit-Sunday,  (c)  Holy  Cross  Day 
(S^t.  14),  (rf)  St.  Lucia's  Day  (Dec  13). 

JOt  ii»  97«  GiatUism  against  heaven  :  a  true  Chapman  phrase.  So  in  Bussy, 
III,  li,  144.-7,  a  favourite's  insolence  is  compared  to  the  warfare  of  the  eaith- 
bom  giant  upon  Jove ;  see  note  ad  loc, 

m,  ii,  90-108.  Chapman  b  foUowiag  here  the  language  of  the  seateooe  as 
quoted  b]^  Pasquier,  which  mentions  the  Admiral's '  infidelitez,  desloyantez, 
&  desobeissances  envers  nous,  oppression  de  nostre  pauvre  peuple,  forces 
pubUques,  exactions  indufe,  conmiissions,  impressions,  ingratitudes, 
contemnement  &  mespris,  tant  de  nos  commandement^  que  defenses, 
entreprises  sur  nostre  authority,  &  autres  fautes,  abbus,  &  malversations, 
crimes  &  delits ',  p.  570* 

m*  il,  118-4.    Compare  the  anecdote  recounted  by  Bacon,  Apothegms,  No.  a. 

m,  ii  188.    This  line  looks  to  me  suspiciously  like  an  insertion  by  Shirley. 

nt,  il,  187-0.    Pdrturiunt  montes,  nasceturridiculus  mms. 

Horace,  Ars  Poetsca,  1. 139^ 

m*  il,  100-807.  The  Chancellor's  savage  attack  upon  Chabot  is  based  upon 
Pasquier's  account  of  the  trial.  When  it  was  discovered  that  no  cbsrges 
of  any  importance  could  be  brought  against  the  Admiral,  the  judges  were 
disposed  to  treat  him  mildly,  *  mais  le  Chanceher  voyant  que  le  roy 
affectionnoit  la  oondemnation  de  leur  prfaonniei;  cyimmenga  de  se  roidir 
contre  son  innooenoe,  auz  yeux  de  toute  la  oompagnie ',  p.  STo. 

III»  iiit  808-84.  Pasquier  says  that  before  the  sentence  was  dgned,  *le  rap- 
porteur du  proofo  luy  en  apporta  la  minute,  non  pour  la  corriger  tout  k 
fait,  mais  bien  pour  voir  s'ii  y  avoit  quelques  obmissions  par  inadvertence. 
Toutesfois  pour  eontenter  son  opinion,  se  donnant  plaine  caniere,  le 
change  selon  que  sa  passion  le  portoit,  &  estant  de  ceste  fagon  radoab^; 
I'envoye  &  tons  les  autres  Conseillers  pour  le  soubsigner.  Ce  que  du 
commencement  ils  ref userent  de  faire,  mais  les  violentant  d'une  oontinu^. 
&  de  menaces  estranges,  ils  furent  contraincts  de  luy  obdr  :  Voire  que  Tun 
d'euz  mit  au  dessous  de  son  seing,  un  petit  V  du  commenoement,  &  vers 
la  fin  un  I,  oes  deux  lettres  jointes  ensemUe  faisans  on  VI,  pour  denoter 
qu'il  r  avoit  sign6  par  contrainte  *,  p.  570. 

IH»  ii,  888-4L  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  details  of  the  sentence,  with 
the  punishment  inflicted  on  Chabot  are  not  given  here ;  probably  because 
Chapman  did  not  find  them  in  Pasquier,  who  only  cites  the  opening  phrases 
of  tne  sentence.  Chabot,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  ocxidenmed  to  pay  a 
fine  of  1,500,000  Uvres,  and  to  sufier  banishment  and  confiscation  of  his 
goods.  Po3^t  altered  the  sentence  so  as  to  make  it  read  '  banishment  for 
life  without  hope  of  recall '. 

The  penalty  of  death  which  Chapman  alludes  to  in  L  238  is  unhistorical ; 
but  Ptt<raier,  p.  571,  says :  '  Ce  grand  Roy,  conmie  fl  est  grandement 
vray-semblabl^  souhaitoit  en  1' arrest  oondemnation  de  mort,  pour  aocomplir 


NOTES  645 


puis  apres  un  trait  absolu  de  xtusericorde,  envers  celtiy  dont  H  ae  pduvoit 
oublier  ramiti6 '. 

IT,  L  In  this  scene  the  work  of  Chapman  and  Shirley  is  so  blended  as  to 
point  directly  to  the  hypothesis  that  Shirley  revised  and  rewrote  Chapman's 
pla^.  I  take  the  first  lao  lines  or  so  to  be  mainly  Shirley's.  The  unes  in 
which  the  Wile  entreats  Frands  to  refuse  the  Queen's  petition,  not  knowing 
that  she  is  praying  for  Chabot's  pardon,  form  a  curious  reversal  of  a  scene 
in  Shirley's  The  Duke^s  MisiresSf  where  Ardelia  begs  the  Duke  to  grant  his 
wife's  prayer,  not  knowing  that  that  unfortunate  lady  is  praying  for  her 
own  death.  Such  reversals  of  a  theatrically  effective  situation  are  com- 
mon among  the  later  dramatists.  The  general  style,  both  in  diction  and 
metre,  of  these  early  lines  seems  to  me  to  point  to  Shirley.  But  later  00 
the  hand  of  Chapman  is  dearly  visible,  espedally  in  the  verbal  borrowings 
from  his  source  and  in  some  striking  parallels  to  his  undoubted  work. 
Yet  I  think  it  likely  that  the  latter  part  of  the  scene  also  was  revised  by 
Shirley. 

I?,  1,  14-d.    Dyoe  in  his  edition  of  Chabol  pofaited  out  the  likeness  of  this 
simile  to  a  passage  in  Pede's  David  and  BOhsabe — Second  chorus  (Works 
voL  ii,  p.  29-30,  Bullen's  edition) : 

Like  as  the  fatal  raven  .... 

•  •  •  ■  •  •  .    ' 

Flies  by  the  fair  Arabian  spiceries,  . 
Her  pieasant  gardens  and  adiffitsome  parks, 
Seeming  to  curse  them  with  hts  hooirse  exclaims^ 
And  yei  doth  stoob  with  hun^  violence 
Upon  a  piece  of  hatefid  carrum. 

Mr.  Bullen  points  out  that  the  original  of  this  simile  Is  found  in  Du 
Bartas: 

Ainsi  que  les  corheaux  d^une  penne  venieuse 
Passans  les  bois  pleurans  de  VArabie  heureus4, 
Mesprisent  les  jardins  et  pares  delideux, 
Qui  de  fUurs  esmailles  vont  parfumant  les  deux, 
Et  s*arrestentf  gloutons,  sur  la  salle  carcasse 
D'un  criminel  rompu  n*aguere  d  coups  de  masse,, 
UArche — Premise  Partie  du  Second  Jour  de  la  Stfionde  Sematne, 

Sylvester's  translation  of  Du  Bartas  renders  this  passage  as  follows: 

Even  as  the  Rav'ns  with  windy  wings  overfly . 
The  Weeping  Woods  of  Happy  Araby, 
Despise  sweet  Gardens  and  deUcious  Bowsers 
Perfuming  Heat^n  with  oderiferous  flowres,. 
And  greedy,  Hght  upon  the  knt^ome  quarters 
Of  some  late  Lopes,  or  such  Romish.  Martyrs* 

Sylvester,  Works  (Chertfcey  Worthies,  voL  i,  P.X36).  . 

The  '  Lopez '  of  this  passage  is  the  famous  Dr.  Lopez,  Queen  Elizabeth's 
physidan,  a  Portuguese  Jew,  hanged  for  hi^h  treason  on  June  ^,  1594. 

Mr.  Bullen  points  out  another  imitation  m  the  anonymous  play  which 
he  published  lor  the  first  time  under  the  title  of  The  Distracted  Emperor 
in  Old  English  Plays : 

But  as  the  ravens,  which  in  Arabia  live,- 
Hdving  flown  all  the  field  of  spices  o*er, 
Seise  on  a  sHnking  carcase. 

Old  English  Plays,  vol.  iii,  p.  23  7*'    '  ' 

It  is  interesting  to  trace  a  simile  of  this  sort  running  from  the  morning 
of  Elizabethan  drama  in  Pede  to  its  sunset  in  Shirley.  0\dng  to  the  uncertain- 
ty as  to  the  dates  of  David  and  Bethsabe  and  the  DisiraSed  Emperor,  it  is 
difficult  to  day  Wtilch  of  these  plays  borrowed  from  the  other,  or  whether 
both  of  them  drew  independently  arom  Du  Bartas.    Sylvester's  tfaniiation 


646 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 


of  this  portion  of  the  Huguenot  poet's  work  does  not  seem  to  have  ap- 

raied  before  Peele's  death,  which  occnrred  before  1598. 
17-22.    This  speech  of  the  King's,  with  its  echoes  of  a  passage  previously 
assigned  to  Shirley  (II,  i,  37-43),  must  be  the  work  of  that  poet» 

!▼•  i»  40.    Wo'nol :  another  mark  of  Shirley's  hand. 

lYt  if  67.  FabU :  the  use  of  this  word  in  the  sense  of  *  byword '  occurs  in 
Shirley,  The  DuMs  Mistress,  I,  ii ;  I  do  not  think  it  is  ever  so  used  by 
Chapman. 

nr»  If  74.  '  Prevent  a  marble  memorial  bearing  an  honest  eulogy  from  being 
erected  as  my  epitaph.' 

nr»  if  8B.  Moos  against:  influenced  against,  won  over  to  the  ooospiracf 
against. 

nr»  if  128.  From  hereon  to  the  close  of  the  scene  I  think  Chapman's  hand 
is  repeatedly,  if  intermittently,  to  be  discerned;  such  phrases  as  our 
curious  justicer,  1. 127,  and  the  applausive  issue,  h  Z30,  are  surely  his. 

ITi  if  126-7.  On  a  somewhat  similar  expression.  '  though  Kings'  sons  dance 
•in  nets  they  may  not  be  seen ',  Greene's  Panaosto  {Worhs,  vol.  iv,  p.  293), 
Mr.  Hazlitt  notes» '  alluding  to  the  old  story  of  the  fisherman's  daughter, 
who  was  ordered  to  dance  oef ore  a  great  lord,  so  that  she  might  be  seen, 
yet  not  seen,  to  which  purpose  she  covered  herself  in  one  of  her  father's 
nets '. 

ITf  if  Idfi.  '  Let  the- crown ',  Le.  the  King,  *  end  the  matter ',  Le.  by  issuing 
orders  for  the  execution. 

ITf  if  21E-277.  The  interview  between  the  King  and  Chabot  has  been  en- 
larged from  the  very  brief  account  given  by  Pasquier,  p.  571 :  'Le  Roy  le 
manda  querir  pardevers  soy,  &  sans  user  de  plus  longs  propos,  luy  dit. 
Pour  oontenter  vostre  opinion  J'ay  fait  faire  vostre  proofs,  &  aves  vea  le 
succte  qu'en-  avez  eu  pour  trop  vous  croire :  Maintenant  Je  veux  oontenter 
la  mlenne,  &  d'une  puissance  absoluC  vous  restablir  en  td  estat  qu'esties 
auparavant  I'arrest.  A  quoy  I'Admiral  repartit ;  Pour  le  moins.  Sire,  je 
loue  Dieu  qu'en  tout  monproo6s  il  n'y  a  im  seul  mot  defelonnie  [of.  L  354] 
que  j'aye  commise,  ou  voulu  oommettre  contre  vostre  Majesty.  Ceste 
parole  arresta  tout  court  le  Roy,  leqnel  pour  en  estre  esdaircy  deoema 
nouvdle  commission  ^  autre  juges  pour  s^avoir  s'il  n'avoit  point  esti 
attaint  &  convaincu  de  ce  crime '. 

ITf  if  206-264  The  interview  between  the  King  and  the  Chancellor  b  ex- 
panded in  the  same  way  from  a  few  lines  in  Pas(;(uier,  p.  571 :  '  Le  Roy 
ayant  veu  I'arrest  oommen^a  de  se  mocquer  des  jugeSf  &  sur  tout  de  se 
oourroucer  contre  le  Chancelier  qui  luy  avoit  promis  montz  &  merveJUes. 
[cf.  1.  324].  .  .  .  [Le  Roy]  voulut  le  pcocte  estre  fait  au  Chancelier,  i  la 
requeste  de  son  Procureur  General  en  sa  Cour  de  Parlement  de  Paris '. 

ITf  if  864.  Our  Advocate  :  this  is  the  same  person,  of  course,  as  the  Proctor- 
General  of  III,  ii.  That  he  should  be  called '  Advocate'  here  and  elsewhae 
in  this  scene  and  in  V,  U,  points,  I  think,  to  a  reviston  which  has  not  been 
consistently  carried  out. 

I?»  If  264-71.  This  speech,  in  its  elaborate  simile,  involved  construction,  and 
moral  earnestness,  is  pure  Chapman. 

I?f  if  400.  '  To  play  a  prize '  was  a  common  Elizabethan  phrase  for  a  public 
contest  of  skiu  in  swordsmanship,  acting,  or  other  art,  for  a  prize  or  wager. 
The  Advocate  promises  Francis  that  he  will  exert  himself  against  the 
Chancellor  as  if  for  such  a  contest. 

I?f  I.  406-0.  After  hearing  the  report  of  the  commission  appointed  to  revise 
the  trial  of  Chabot,  the  King  restored  him  to  his  ^x)d  name  and  to  the 
royal  favour  by  letters-patent,  dated  March  29,  zS4i.  A  later  sentence, 
1545,  annulled  the  first  altogether.    See  Pasquier,  pp.  57X'3. 

ITf  if  410-22.  Another  characteristic  Chapman  speeds  With  lines  421-3 
compare  Byron* s  Tragedy ,  V,  iii,  65-7 : 

rude  thunder  yields  to  them 
His  horrid  wings^  sits  smooth  as  glass  engku^d; 
And  UgfUmng  sticks  *tmxt  heaven  and  earth  amas*d% 

The  simile  in  IL  426-33  is  eminently  in  Chapman's  manner. 


NOTES  647 

TWt  U  488-64.  Koeppel  {loc.  cU,)  points  out  the  dose  verbal  resemblance 
between  this  speech  and  Pasquier,  p.  572  :  '  Belle  le^on  a  tout  Juge  pour 
demourer  en  soy,  et  ne  laisser  fluctuer  sa  conscience  dedans  les  vagues 
d'une  imaginaire  faveur,  qui  pour  fin  de  .jeu  le  submerge  '  [cf.  U.  450-4J. 
Pasquier  continues :  '  Je  vous  ay  recit6  deux  histoires  dont  pourrez 
recueillir  deux  le^ns  :  L'une  que  quelque  commission  qu'un  Juge  re^oive 
de  son  Prince,  il  doit  tousjouis  buter  k  la  justice,  [cf.  11.  442-4]  &  non  aux 
passions  de  oeluy  qui  le  met  en  oeuvre,  lequel  revenant  avecq'  le  temps  k 
son  mieux  penser,  se  repent  apres  de  sa  soudainet6,  &  recognoist  tout  k 
loisir  oeluy  estre  indigne  de  porter  le  tiltre  de  Juge,  qui  a  abus6  de  sa  con- 
science pour  luy  complaire '.  As  Koeppel  says,  this  verbal  resemblance 
proves  beyond  doubt  that  Pasquier's  chapter  was  the  source  used  for 
Chabot;  it  further  proves  that  this  speech  in  particular  was  the  work 
of  Chapman.  Such  a  versification  d  his  original,  borrowing  at  times  its 
very  words,  occurs  over  and  over  again  in  Ths  Revenge  of  Bussy  and  the 
Byron  plays. 

7,  L  This  scene,  originally  b^  Chapman^  has  been  revised  by  Shirley.  It  is 
imi)ossible,  I  think,  to  divide  the  scene  between  the  two,  since  evidences 
of  the  double  authorship  are  visible  throughout.  I  call  attention  to  some 
of  these  in  the  following  notes. 

¥•  it  1(H).  This  simile  of  the  river  is  a  favourite  one  with  Chapman.  Cf. 
Byron's  Conspiracy^  II,  ii,  188-^2,  and  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  152-8.  I 
fancy  the  original  simile  in  this  passage  has  been  shortened  by  Shirley,  to 
whidi  the  confusion  in  the  text  is  possibly  due ;  see  Text  Notes,  p.  652. 

▼•  i,  8IHI2.  Compare  Bussy,  V,  iv,  90-3.  This  desire  to  meet  death  standing 
is  characteristic  of  Chapman's  heroes. 

7t  i*  8^0*    This  passage,  reminiscent  of  II,  iii,  144-5,  smd  parallel  to  V,  iii, 
182-3,  has  also  a  parallel  in  Shirley,  The  Duke*s  Mistress,  III,  iii    (a 
passage  already  quoted  on  page  642). 
I  am  inclined  to  take  the  present  passage  as  the  work  of  Shirley. 

▼,  U  89-8L  This  passage  I  take  to  be  mainly,  if  not  altogether,  the  work  of 
Shirley.  Note  his  abbreviation  wo*not  in  1.  42,  the  rapidity  and  ease  of 
the  dialogue,  the  heavy  enjambemenU,  especially  in  the  King's  speech, 

II.  51-61,  and  in  general  the  somewhat  sentimental  tone  of  the  passage— 
sudi  a  phrase  as  Alas,  poor  Chabot,  1.  80,  is  not  in  Chapman's  vem. 

Y,  U  81-108.  Chapman's  hand  is  visible  in  Uie  last  lines  of  this  scene.  I 
think  the  reference  to  the  ceniaur^s  blood,  1.  86,  is  his,  and  the  Father's 
speech,  U.  89-98,  is  wholly  in  his  manner,  and  contains  one  of  his  peculiar 
adjectives,  numerous,  in  the  sense  of  '  musical ' ;  cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy, 
I.  ii,  46-47 : 

As  if  my  feet  were  numerous,  and  trod  sounds 
Out  of  the  centre  with  Apollo's  virtue. 

See  also  Byron's  Tragedy,  I,  ii,  58. 

V»  iL  This  scene  is  mainly,  if  not  whoUy,  the  work  of  Chapman.  The  prose 
speeches  are  certainly  his,  and,  I  think,  the  greater  part  of  the  verse  as 
well,  although  Shirley  may  have  added  and  revised  some  Unes. 

Vt  U*  16-8.  Omnia  ex  lite  fieri :  cf .  Chapman's  version  of  this  maxim  in 
The  Widow's  Tears,  I,  iii,  34-5 : 

All  things  by  strife  engender. 

Tt  a,  8iM8.    The  idea  of  generation  by  corruption,  burlesqued  in  these  lines, 

was  familiar  to  Chapman. 
V,  U,  66-8.    Compare  the  Advocate's  (or  Proctor-General's)  eulogy  of  Poyet, 

III,  ii,  5-24.    This  •  epic  repetition '  is  characteristic  of  Chapman. 
¥•  ii»  87.  Cold  terms :   law  terms  in  which  little  business  is  done. 

V,  ii,  88.    Bury  itself  in  buckram :  hide  itself  in  its  own  bags.     Buckram  is 


648       THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

used  by  the  Elizabethan  dramatists  as  a  synonym  fee  a  lawyer's  ba^  made 
of  this  material. 

▼,  ii,  118.    Tiger  of  Hyrcanian  breed :  d.  Macbeth,  III,  iv,  xoz. 

¥•  ii.  16S-7t.  This  long  speech  is  wholly  in  Chapman's  manner.  With  the 
phrase,  higJhgoing  sea,  L  156,  cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy,  II,  i,  150.  In  The 
IhiMs  Mistress,  V,  i,  we  have  the  phrase  high-going  waves. 

▼•  ii,  169-72.  The  Chanoellor's  appeal  to  Chabot,  thongh  not  mentioned  in 
Pasquier,  is  an  historical  fact,  and  may  have  been  known  to  Chapman. 
Castelnau-Laboreur,  Memoires,  vol.  ii,  p.  573,  prints  a  long  letter  from 
Poyet  to  Chabot,  addressing  him  as  Monseignem:  and  imploring  him  to 
beg  the  King  to  allow  him  to  retire  to  his  house  rather  than  be  led  to  prison ; 
cf.  U.  175-6.  The  same  authority  records  that  after  his  sentence  was 
pronounced,  Poyet  said  that  he  thanked  God  for  his  infinite  mercy  and 
the  King  for  his  justice,  and  that  he  prayed  God  to  give  him  grace  to  make 
a  prayer  agreeable  to  Him  and  profitable  to  the  King ;  cf .  U.  198-9.  Such 
fidelity  to  historical  details  is  very  characteristic  of  Chapman. 

Y.  ii,  179.  The  mouse  in  the  fable :  I  have  been  unable  to  trace  any  form  of 
the  fable  here  alluded  to. 

▼•  ii»  185-OS.  Pasquier,  p.  57r,  notes  that  among  the  mass  of  testimony 
brought  forward  against  Poyet  *  les  plus  signalez  &  picquans  fu^ent  les 
extraordinaires  deportemens  dont  il  avoit  us6  envers  les  juges  an  pioc6s 
de  I'Admiral '.  The  details  of  his  sentence,  somewhat  altered*  are  also  from 
Pasquier,  p.  573  :  *  11  fut  priv6  de  I'estat  de  Chancelier,  ft  declare  inbabile 
k  tenir  office  Royal;  &  encores  condamn^  en  la  somme  de  cent  miUe 
Uvres  envers  le  Roy,  &  k  tenir  prison  jusques  k  plein  payement,  &  oonfini 
jusques  k  cinq  ans  en  tel  lieu  ft  seure  garde  qu'U  plairoit  au  Roy '. 

Y,  iii  There  is  a  sub-stratum  of  Chapman  in  this  scene,  but  it  is  heavfly 
overlaid  with  Shirley. 

▼,  ill,  69-64.  This  elaborate  simile  is,  I  fancy,  a  fragment  preserved  from 
Chapman.  I  take  the  first  lines  of  this  speech,  however,  and  the  closing 
exclamation,  so  Chabot,  Chabot,  to  be  Shuriey's. 

Y,  iii,  66.  Wonder  in  apprehension :  with  this  phrase,  meaning,  apparently, 
'  a  wonderful  thing  to  apprehend,  or  consider ',  compare  The  Duh^s 
Mistress,  III,  i,  strange  apprehension, 

▼»  iii,  188-44.  For  the  Kkig's  dissatisfaction  with  the  sentence  'passed  'on 
Poyet  see  the  Introduction  to  this  play,  p.  635. 

▼,  iti,  168.  Fear  his  apprehension:  fear  the  consequences  of  his  apprehen- 
sion, i.e.  of  the  intensity  with  which  he  has  felt  the  shock.  I  owe  this 
note  to  Mr.  Brereton. 

▼,  iii,  167.    Cf.  V,  i,  39-32*  and  the  note  ad  loc. 

▼•  iii,  16a-9.    Cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy,  III,  ii,  3-3. 

▼•  iii,  179-80.    Cf.  Caesar  and  Pompey,  I,  ii,  393,  and  the  note  ad  loc. 

▼,  iii,  900-9.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  these  closing  lines  are  Shirley's. 
Yet  it  is  possible  that  the  obscurity  of  the  last  four  lines  is  due  to  his  talong 
over  a  bit  of  Chapman  which  he  did  not  understand,  and  which  he  rewrote 
in  such  a  way  as  to  give  more  sound  than  sense.  The  phrase,  starvs 
succession,  1.  327,  apparently  means  '  kill  one's  successor ' ;  cf.  Trajan's 
saying,  quoted  by  Bacon,  Apothegms,  Na  100, '  there  was  never  king  that  did 
put  to  death  his  successor  \  But  what  this  has  to  do  with  the  despair  of 
kings  as  to  their  relations  with  their  heirs,  or  either  with  the  story  of 
Chabot,  I  am  quite  unable  to  decide. 

TEXT  NOTES 

In  the  preparation  of  this  text  I  have  made  use  of  the  following  editions, 
denoted  in  tnese  pages  by  the  symbols  which  here  accompany  them.  The 
first  Quarto,  1639 ^  (Q.);     Dyce's  edition"  (D.) ;  Shepherd's  edition >  (s.) ; 

1  This  is  the  oqIv  old  edition.  It  seems  to  have  been  given  to  the  press  by  the  Queen's 
Men  during  Shirley  s  absence  in  Ireland.  It  was  probably  printed  from  an  actinx  onpy  snd 
the  text  is  m  many  places  very  corrupt.  I  have  consulted  the  copies  at  the  Britiffi  Blasnam 
and  the  Bodleian,  five  in  aU. 

a  The  Dramatie  Works  and  Poems  of  James  ShiHey,  vol.  vl,  1833. 

S  The  Works  of  Ck»pman^Plays. 


NOTES 


649 


Lehman's  reprint  ^  (L.)*  Of  these  Dyce  alone  has  really  edited  the  text  * 
Shepherd  in  the  main  depends  on  Dyoe,  and  Lehman's  useful  reprint  offer^ 
only  a  few  suggested  emendations.  1  have  followed  the  Quarto,  modernizing 
spelling  and  ptmctuation,  and  marking  all  alterations  in  the  text. 


DRAMATIS  PBRSONAB 


Under  the  heading  ol  Qpeaken,  Q.  gives  the  following  list,  which  is  so  confused 
and  faulty  that  I  nave  transferred  it  to  this  place. 


Asall. 

AUegre. 

King. 

?fueene. 
ireasuror. 
Chancellor. 
Admirall. 
Father. 
GeneraU. 


Chabot. 

Judges. 

Officers. 

Secretary. 

Ushers. 

Constable. 

Courtiers. 

Porter. 

Guard. 


Of  these  characters  the  Admirall  is,  of  course,  the  same  as  Chabot ;  the 
General  does  not  appear  in  the  play,  imless  we  assume  that  the  word  Porter  is  a 
misprint  for  Procter  and  that  the  true  reading  is  Procter-General.  The  Wife 
of  Chabot  is  not  mentioned  in  this  list,  which  goes  to  show,  I  think,  that  this 
character  was  introduced  by  Shirley  when  revising  the  play.  Further  omis- 
sions are  those  of  the  Notary  and  the  Captain  of  the  Guard. 

The  Quarto  divides  the  play  into  acts  but  not  into  scenes. 


I*  i»  58.  Q.  any  things ;    D.  anything. 

68.  S.  mserts  as  before  homd. 

116.  For  the  last  word  of  the  stage 
direction  after  this  line  Q.  has 
attend, 

119.  Q.  gardian;  D.  emends  gor- 
dian.  I^  says  that  the  Q.  from 
which  he  printed  has  *hrtgian  in 
this  line.  I  have  not  noticed  the 
omission  of  the  P  in  the  copies 
I  have  consulted. 

127.  Q.  which  for  it  sOfs  Sir, 
resolve  to  heepe,  D.  inserts  /  be- 
fore resolve, 

188.  Q.  earth  ;  D.  earthlly], 

ISft.  Q>  places  the  words  my  wife*s 
at  the  beginning  of  1.  136.  So 
do  S.  and  D.  I  think  the  ar- 
rangement in  the  text  gives  a 
better  metre. 

168.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction,  £xU  Chabot,  after  this 
line. 

168.  In  the  stage  direction  in  this 
line  Q.  has  <»)ly  Exit;  D. 
Exeunt  the  King  and  AU. 

170.  Q-  increase.  S.  incense,  a 
plausible  conjecture,  cf.  11,  iii,  7 ; 
but  I  think  the  old  reading  is 
intelligible. 


188.  Q.  men  free  home  slaves;  so 
D.  S.  emends  free-bom,  which 
seems  the  true  reading,  since  the 
sense  is  '  too  servile  equity  turns 
free-bom  men  into  slaves*. 

187.  Q*  in  both ;  so  D.  S.  emends 
it  both,  which  seems  the  true 
reading,  since  it  refers  to  the 
phrase  informs  his  actions  simply, 

188.  Q.  natures ;  D.  Nature^s  ; 
S,  nature,  I  think  the  noun  is 
plural,  referring  to  the  heavenly 
bodies,  the  stars, 

808.  Q.  /  seeking ;  so  D.  and  S. ; 
but  I  think  it  plain  that  In  is 
the  true  reading,  /  having  been 
caught  from  the  next  line. 

280.  Q.  shadder,  D.  emends  shud- 
der. Perhai>s  we  might  read 
shatter. 
J^  Ut  10.  Q.  service ;  so  D.  and  S.  It 
seems  plain  to  me  that  an  s  has 
dropped  ofi  the  end  of  the  word. 
Metre  and  syntax,  I  think,  de* 
mand  services, 

12.  Q.  less  degraded  ;  so  D.  and  S., 
but  evidently  a  comma  is  neces- 
sary between  the  words. 

88.  Q.  ingenious ;  D.  inger^uoue. 
See  text  note  on  Sussy,  III|  ii,  Z07. 


i  The  Tregedis  of  CA«&o^-PuhBcatlon9  of  the  UnivcErity  of  Peontylvania^-Series  in 
Philology  and  Literature,  vol.  x,  Philadelphia,  1906. 


650 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 


60.  Q.  WkiU  inforc'd  skew  ;  so  D. 
S.  emends  White  in  forced  show, 
which  seems  to  be  the  true  read- 
ing. 

00.  Q.  ambitioiis  boundlesse  ;  so  D. 
and  S. ;  but  it  seems  dear  that 
ambtHous  is  a  misprint  of  the 
oomm(mest  sort,  u  for  n,  for 
ambitions,  which  word  occurs  im- 
mediately below  in  L  66.  The 
alteration  involves  the  placing  of 
a  comma  after  boundless, 

87.  Q>  no  haxard ;  so  D.  and  S. 
Perhaps  we  should  read  not 
haxard, 

68.  Realities,  a  misprint  in  this 
text  for  the  true  reading  of  Q., 
realties,  i.e.  '  royal  powers  \ 

^%.  Q.  A  he;     D.    emends   AU, 

106.  Q.  But  now  the  rather  all 
powers  against  it.  L.'s  copy  of 
Q.  has  the  powers,  I  should  like 
to  read     all  [my]  power's  (ie. 

Eoweris)  against  it;  but  have 
esitated  to. introduce  this  con- 
jecture into  the  text. 
V&,  188.  Q.  wonot,  D.  and  S. 
print  will  not,  thus  obliterating 
a  colloquialism  characteristic  of 
Shirley.  I  have  followed  Q. 
throughout  in  preserving  such 
contracted  forms,  and  shall  not 
call  attention  to  them  again. 
146^  L.'s  copy  of  Q.  has  /  were. 
The  copies  I  have  consulted  read 
Twere* 
lit  I,  28.  Q.  i4s  if^  ihis  hraine  more 
circumscribed  all  wisedome  ;  so  D. 
S.  emends  his  brain  were,  etc,, 
which  seems  the  true  reading. 

87.  Q*  lately.    S.  alters  to  late. 

88.  Q,  Urge;  D.  emends  Urged, 
The  Q.  reading  is  probably  a  mis- 
print for  Urga. 

46.  Can,  Q.  prints  this  word  at 
the  beginning  of  1.  47  ;  so  D.  and 
S.  But  the  arrangement  in  the 
text  seems  to  me  more  like 
Shirley's  metre,  and  this  scene 
is  mainly,  if  not  altogether,  by 
Shirley, 
lit  U,  6.  Q.  bas  an  interrogation  mark 
at  the  end  of  this  line.  As  often 
in  EUzabethan  printing  this  indi- 
cates an  exclamation. 

14.  Q.  Since  tis  but  patience  some^ 
time  they  thinke  ;  so  D.  and  S. 
But  it  seems  dear  that  the  sub- 

i'ect  of  thinhe  must  he  he,  os  in. 
.  zi.    I  therefore  read  he  and 
^n^,  and  interpret  the  whole 


passage,  11. 1 1-19,  as  follows :  *  Yes» 
for  he  is  afraid,  bein^  but  a 
newly  established  favounte^  to  be 
too  insolent  in  his  demeanour  to- 
ward the  King,  until  the  time 
comes  when  he  dare  act  with  the 
fiery  seal  his  faction  would  like 
to  see  in  hinx.  Till  then  he  be- 
lieves in  being  patient,  for  tlie 
stream  of  the  royal  favour  will 
not  continue  to  flow  in  two  chan- 
nels [i.e.  himself  and  Chabot], 
but  must  sooner  or  later  leave 
one  of  them  [presumably  Chabot  j 
dry'. 

88.  Q.  Though  ;  so  D.  and  S. ;  but 
it  seems  an  evident  misprint  for 
through, 

46.  Q.  other,  S.  others,  an  unneces- 
sary emendation  which  has  crept 
into  my  text. 

51.  Q.  arrived.  Should  we  read 
arm^d? 

58.  Q.  walhe,  L.  prints  imJ^  but 
the  /  in  the  copies  I  have  seoi  is 
very  faint,  and  may  be  quite 
obliterated  in  L.'s  copy*  Walhe 
is  certainly  the  true  reading. 

56-7.  Q*  My  innocence  is,  which  is  a 
conquering  justice. 
As    weares  a    shi^d,   that   both 
defends  and  fights, 
D.  retains  this  nonsense;    S. 
emends  by  dropping  the  first  is 
in  1.  56.    I  accept  this,  and  fur- 
ther emend  As  to  And,    This 
seems    to   me    to  make  perfect 
sense  ;  innocence  is  in  apposition 
with  that,  L  53- 

77.  Q'  The  judgement,  and  fammr, 
S,  inserts  the  before  favour,  an 
unnecessary  change  which  has 
crept  into  my  text. 

87.  Q.  He  cares  for  gains  not 
honour;  so  D.  and  S.  But  a 
careful  examination  of  the  con- 
text will  show  that  not  must  be  a 
misprint  for  nor,  Montmorency, 
at  bottom  a  generous  nature,  is 
so  moved  by  Chabot*s  last  words 
that  he  exdaims  that  the  Ad- 
miral cares  neither  for  gain  nor 
honour  (i.e.  office  or  fame) ;  to 
which  the  Chancellor  relies, '  If 
that  be  true,  how  has  he  managed 
to  acquire  both  gain  and  honour '. 
It  is  plain  that  gain  and  honour 
are  connected,  not  contrasted  as 
in  the  Q. 

lit  iJitl6.  Q.hingdomes;  D.and  S. 
kingdoms  ;  but  Francis  di^  not 


NOTES 


651 


have  several  kingdoms.  The 
word  is  plainly  in  the  possessive 
case  after  strength, 

88.  Q.  Kin^ ;  so  D.  S.  prints 
kings*,  wmch  is  plainly  correct. 

48.  Q.  That  many,  cares,  etc.  D. 
and  S.  print  monfy,  cares.  But 
the  true  reading  is  plainly  many 
cares*  Chabot  is  telling  how  he  has 
spent  cares,  pains,  and  years  in 
acquiring  Ms  present  threatened 
fortunes.  He  is  not  boasting  of 
the  money  he  has  laid  outl 

04.  Q.  has  a  question  mark,  equiva- 
lent to  an.  exclamation,  at  the 
close  of  this  line. .  D.  and  S.  r&* 
tain  it,  but  I  think  the  passage 
reads  better  without  it. 

108-8.  The  question  mark  after 
J.  102  was  inserted  by  D.  I  have 
retained  his  reading,  but  think  it 

{>ossible  that  we  should  read 
icences  of  yours  May  give  me. 
Such  an  omission  of  the  subject 
relative  pronoun  is  oooimon  in 
Chapman. 

119-80.  Q.   Weigh  yet,  with  more 
souls  than  danger, 
And  some  lesse  passion. 

So  D.  S.  emends  than  to  the, 
which  is  clearly  correct,'  as  soul 
js  contrasted  with  passion,  and 
danger  must  be  the  object  of 
weigh.  I  have  omitted  to  mark, 
the  emendation  of  S.  in  my  text 

188.  I  have  inserted  a  question 
mark  at  the  dose  of  this  line ; 
Q.,  D.  and  S.  haveaconuna,  but 
I  believe  the  sense  is  improved 
by  this  change.  The  whole 
passage  from  I.  126  to  I.  142  is 
difficult  and. perhaps  corrupt. 

184.  Q.  effects  and  cannot  informs 
him;  so  X>,  and  S.  Brereton 
{loc.  cit.)  suggests  that  the  words 
cannot  tnforme  him  were  a  mor- 
tal comment,  which  has  crept 
mto  the  text,  teUing  the  printer 
that  some  one  could  not  mform 
him  [the  printer]  what  word  was 
missing  after  and.  This  is  hi- 
genious,  but.it  seems  clear  that 
cannot  must  belong  to  the  original 
text,  since  use,.  I.  Z35»  depends 
upon  it. 

140.  Q'  in  this  reason  ;  so  D.  and 
S. ;  but  it  seems  piain  that 
reason  is  a  verb,  equivalent  to 
*  reflect ' :  this  means  '  this 
case ',  '  this  situation  *.. 

IM.  Q.  fl/;  so  D.  and  S. ;  but  it 


is  plainly  an  old  spelling  for  off. 

For  stick  offseeHamUt,  V,  iL  268. 
188. .  Q.  prints  my  Lord  as  a  separate 

line ;  so  D.and  S. ;  but  it  plainly 

belongs  at  the  dose  of  1. 182. 
80(HI.    Q.   prints  as  three  lines 

ending  life,  life,  act. 

807.  Q-  finer.    D.  emends  fibre. 
m,  i,  44.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 

direction  They  retire  in  this  line. 
It  is  plain  from  what  follows  that 
the  Father  and  Wife  withdraw, 
but  do  not  leave  the  stage.  See 
the  new  stage  directions  after 
1.  57  and  in  L  88. 

58.  Q.  contempts ;  S.  contempts, 
which  is  certainly  wrong. 

'SO.  /  desire.  Q.  prints  as  a  separ- 
ate line. 

67.  I  have  added  the]stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

88.  I  have  inserted  the  stage  direc- 
tion in  this  line. 
96.  Q.  this  ;  L.  suggests  his  ;  but 

no  change  is  needed. 
Ill,  118.    I  have  inserted  the  stage 

directions  in  these  lines. 
180.  Q-  eoery  {   so  D.    S.  emends 

ever. 
151.  Q.siiU;  soD.    S.  emends /t2/. 
158.  Q.  talke;  D.  emends  take, 
188.  Q.  Suffer  are  bound  to  suffer  ; 

D.    emends   the   first   wora   to 

Subjects, 
169.  u,  adds  the  direction  [Kneels 

to  this  line. 

808.  D.  adds  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

IXI,ii,l.  Q-  Mr,  Proctor.  So  also  in  1. 30. 
.  10.  Q>  Poyeni ;  D.  and  S.  Poyein. 

I  prefer  to  use  the  original  Greek 

form  woLtlv. 
16-7.  Q.  so  notable  in  the  progress  ; 

so  D.  and  S.    It  seems  to  me 

that  in  the  process  clearly  belongs 

to  what  follows. 
47.  Q*  annuall.  D.  emends  animal. 

I  have  inserted  use  after  spirits  ; 

some  such  verb  appears  to  have 

been  lost. 

68.  Q.  advance.  D.  emends  ad- 
vance. 

101.  Q.  neither  inf  round  or  respected 
his  disloyalties.  D.  emends  •»•> 
formed  or  respected,  joining  his 
disloyalties  with  what  follows. 
L.»  p.  z  lOt  would  read  informed  or 
suspected  his  disloyalties.  I  much 
preier  the  reading  of  D,  which  is 
nearer  that  of  the  source.  See 
.note  on  III,  ii,  99-103,  p.  644. 


652 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 


107.  Q*  Lord,  D.  emends  hrds,  to 
agree  with  yourselves. 

109.  Q.  least    L.  prints  lost. 

12S.  Q-  eonseienee,  L.,  p.  X19, 
takes  this  to  be  a  misprint  for 
conscious,  but  conscience  is  plainly 
a  nomi  meaning  *  consciousness ' 
and  the  object  of  urge,  1.  135. 
L.'s  explanation  of  the  passage 
seems  to  me  faulty. 

142.  Q-  shaddow.  D.  emends 
shadows. 

19SL  Q.  chines  crackes,  D.  alters  to 
crack :  but  the  old  grammatical 
form  should  be  retained. 

164.  D.  inserts  fr«i4i>ef ore  The  subfect. 

169-81.  The  syntax  of  this  speech 
is  confused  to  a  degree  remark- 
able even  for  Chapman.  I  fancy 
some  lines  were  struck  out  in 
revision.  Probably  the  same 
is  true  of  the  Chancellor's  speech, 
11.  190-207. 

£04.  Q.  rob*d  and.  A  word  has 
dropped  from  the  end  of  the  line. 
D.    suggests  violate. 

290.  Q.  CM  this  side,  and  on  this 
side,  this  capital  I.  L.  inserts  F. 
after  the  first  side.    Cf.  IV,  i. 


IV»  i,  18.  Q.  What  could :  so  D.  and  S. 
It  seems  plain  that  What  is  a  mis- 
print for  That. 
80.  I  have  inserted  the  stage  direc* 
tion  in  this  Une  to  prepare  for  the 
subsequent    entrance   of   Asall, 

1.  120. 

85.  Q'  made.    Perhaps  we  might 

read  mad. 
88-9.  Q.  prhits  He  is  .  .  •  mine 

as  one  line. 
108-8.  Q.  Lowes  To  partiall  doome. 

D.  emends  law's  too  partial. 
119.  I    have    inserted    the    stage 

direction    here*     Cf.    a  similar 

situation  in  Macbeth,  II,  iii,  125. 

Q.  has  Exeunt  after  lady,  but  this 

direction  should  come  after  I.12Z. 

D.  emends  it  so  as  to  show  that 

the  King  remains. 
188-0.  One  of  the  Bodleian  copies, 

M alone,  B.  166,  gives  this  speech 

to  the  King. 
147.  Q.  fame;    so  D.  and  S.    It 

seems  clear  that  the  context  de- 
mands flame. 
166.  Q.  prints  /  joy  as  the  first 

words  of  1.  167. 
169.  A    defective    line.    Possibly 

this  speech  has  been  cut. 
186  Q.  bounties,  and  as,  etc. ;  so 


D.  and  S. ;  but  and  seefos  to  me 

certainly  intrusive. 
STL  Q.  mine.    S.  misprints  Hme. 
8I81 16, 16. 18.  28,  88.  Q.  has  only 

I.  and  2.  for  ist  Judge  and  2nd 

Judge  in  these  lines.     In  L  326 
^Q.  has  lud.  for  Judges. 
882.  Q.   For  every  boat,  and  that 

fished,  etc    D.  emends  by  drop- 
pine  the  intrusive  and. 
848.  Q.  party.    D.  emends  Party. 
846.  Q.     a    thirst.    Perhaps     we 

should  read  athirst. 
870.  L.  prints  out  for  Q.  our. 
408.  Q.  whom.    D.  emends  homo* 
V.  1. 17.  Q.  left.    D.  emends  1^ 
19.  Q.   her.    D.  emends  /A«nr.     I 

fancy  this  speech,  11.  15-23,  has 

been  cut  in  the  revision. 
61-2.  Q.  prints  He  .  .  .  nemes  as 

one  One ;  /  perceive  as  another. 
64-6.  Q.  prints  as  five  lines  ending 

expeU,  AdmiraU,  life,  had,  him. 
69.  Q.     With    crushing,   crushing. 

I^obably     a      printer's     error, 

though  Shirley  is  given  to  such 

repeutions. 
lOL  Q.  bring  heaMh.     D.   inserts 

him  after  bring. 
V,  ii.  18.     Q.  Mr.  Advocate.    So  also 

in  11.  34,  60,  92. 
47.  Q.    foreteU;    D.    foreia:    S. 

forta. 
51MnL    Q.  prints  as  verse;  but  I 

think  it  one  of  the  prose  passages 

with  a  strongly   marked   verse 

rhythm  in  the  earlier  part  which 

are  common  in  Chapman. 
91M.  Q>  prints  as  three  lines  of 

verse,   ending  satisfaction,  how, 

AdmiraU. 
124.  Q.  Austria.  D.  emends  i^s/roM. 
187.  Q'  gwU  upon  the  Kings  heires, 

a  traytor,  etc,    t).  emends   guilt 

upon  the  King.    Here*s  a  traitor. 
148.  Q.  prints  the  court  as  the  last 

words  of  1.  147. 
151.  Q.  prints  And  this  as  the  first 

words  of  1.  152. 
166.  D.  reads  There*s  doomsday  in 

my  conscience,  which  S.  accepts. 

But  no  emendation  is  necessary. 

We   might    perhaps   puncti^ate 

There    doomsday    is — my    con- 

science,  etc. 
168.  Q.  PricH.    D.  emends  Prick. 

The  Q.  is  probably  a  misprint  for 

Pricke. 
176.  A  defective  line.    D.  inserts 

mean    before    village.    If    any 

alteration  is   needed,   which  I 


NOTES 


653 


doubt,  I  would  read  afa^  for 

fttf. 
186.  Mo6t  copies  of  Q.  read  you  AtgA 

misdemeanours,       L.,  however, 

prints  yottr. 
198-9.  Most  copies  of  Q.  omit  the 

name  of  the  speaker.    L.  prints 

it  as  CAa.,  i.e.  Chancellor. 
199.  Q.  /  spend.    D.  emends  VU 

spMd. 
▼•  iii,  10.  Q.  hurt.    D.  emends  heart. 
88.  S.  omits  can  blast. 
48.  Q.  sometime.    D.  some  time. 

.  D. 


supplies  the  stage  direction. 

98.  Q.  best  life,  violence.  D.  in- 
serts no  before  violence. 

108.  Q.  dispares  ;   D.  despairs. 

108.  Q.  trenched.  D.  emends 
trencheth, 

184.  I  have  added  to  the  stage 
direction  in  this  line  to  explain 
the  King's  speech,  U.  138-47. 

148.  I  am  not  sure  that  this  line 


Is  conrect.  We  might  either  read 
unequal,  i.e.  unjust,  or  punctuate 
ChtAot.  With  an  equal,  etc. 
But  as  the  passage  is  intelli- 
gible I  have  preferred  to  let  it 
stand. 

187.  I    have    inserted   the   stage 
direction  in  this  line. 

178.  Q.  It  already  faUing.    D.  in. 

serts  is  before  already. 
180.  Q.  were  deafe,  so  heavens,  etc. 

So  D.  and  S.    Brereton  |(A)c  eU.) 

suggests  deafe  to    heaven*s,   etc. 

This  seems  to  me  an  admirable 

conjecture, 

188.  Q.  prints  as  two  lines,  ending 
live.  Prince. 

197.  Q-  prints  but  as  first  word  of 

1.  198. 
808.  D.  adds  the  sta^e  direction. 
811-89.  Q'   gives  this    speech   to 

Qu.,  i.e.  Queen.    D.  makes  the 

necessary  correction. 


CiESAR  AND  POMPEY 

INTRODUCTION 

Casar  and  Pompey  is  probably  the  least  known  of  Chapman's  tragedies. 
Lamb  cited  three  passages  from  it,  but  without  comment ;  and  most 
later  historians  of  the  &ima  pass  over  it  hastily.  Swinburne  alone, 
I  think,  does  justice  to  its  treasures  of  fine  thought  and  high  expres- 
sion. One  reason,  no  doubt,  for  its  comparative  neglect  has  been  tiie 
bad  condition  of  its  text.  It  is  not  only  obscure  ^yond  even  what 
we  may  expect  in  Chapman,  but  corrupt,  badly  printed,  and  full  of 
puzzles.  The  only  modem  edition  of  the  play  has  added  to  these  a 
peculiarly  irritating  and  confused  set  of  abbreviations  for  the  speakers' 
names.  All  in  sdl  I  know  few  harder  pieces  of  reading  in  Eliza- 
bethan drama  than  Casar  and  Pompey,  whether  in  the  old  quartos  or  in 
Shepherd's  edition  of  Chapman's  plays. 

Yet  there  is  much  of  interest  in  this  tragedy,  not  only  to  the  student 
of  the  drama,  but  also  to  the  lover  of  fine  poetry.  And  it  possesses 
an  especial  value  for  the  light  it  throws  upon  the  dramatic  methods, 
the  personality,  and  the  belief,  religious  and  philosophical  of  Chapman 
himself.  There  are  certain  facts  to  be  stated,  and  certain  problems  to 
be  propounded,  if  not  solved,  before  a  discussion  of  this  pecnlif^  value 
of  the  drama  is  in  order. 

A  difficulty  confronts  us  at  once  in  regard  to  the  date  of  the  play. 
It  was  licensed  by  Herbert  and  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Registers 
onltfay  i8,  163 1,  as  follows  :  Mast&r  Harper  entred  for  his  Copye  under 
the  handes  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert  Knight  6*  Master  Harrison  a  Playe 
called  Casar  and  Pompey  by  George  Chapman.  It  was  published  the 
same  year.^  This  date,  however,  is  so  near  the  close  of  Chapman's 
life,  and  so  long  after  the  composition  of  all  his  other  plays  that  we 
could  hardly  believe  this  play  was  composed  anywhere  near  that  time, 
even  apart  from  Chapman's  statement  in  the  Dedication  that  it  was 
written  long  since  and  had  not  the  '  timely  ripeness '  of  his  present 
age.  This  is  not  very  definite,  but  I  doubt  whether  it  is  possible 
to  settle,  even  approximately,  the  date*  of  composition.  My  own 
opinion,  based  upon  somewhat  intangible  evidence  of  style  and  rhythnr, 
is  that  the  play  was  composed  about  the  time  of,  probably  a  little  later 
than,  the  Revenge  of  Bussy,  i.e.  in  1612^13. 

Chapman  states  in  the  Dedication  that '  this  martial  history '  never 
'  touched  at  the  stage  ',  a  phrase  which  has  generally  been  interpreted 
to  mean  '  was  never  acted  '.     On  the  other  hand,  the  title-page  of  the 

*  For  the  title-page,  see  p.  6yy. 

*  Fleav  (Bicg.  dhron,,  vol.  1,  pp.  64-5)  says  not  later  than  x6o8,  based  upon 
an  old  play  of  1594  mentioned  by  Henslowe  under  the  date  of  November  8, 
1594.  ScheHing  {EKMobethan  Drama,  vol.  ii,  p.  22)  puts  it  somewhat  later 
than  X607,  and  Swinburne  {George  Chapman,  p.  Z17)  guesses  that  it  is  about 
the  date  of  Bussy,  ie.  1604.  This,  I  think,  is  much  too  early ;  Swinburne's 
instinct  probably  led  him  nearer  the  truth  when  he  remarked  that  it '  bears 
more  aflSnity  to  the  Revenge  of  Bussy  and  the  Byron  plays  in  the  main  quality 
of  interest  and  the  predominance  ol  speech  over  action. 


656  CJESAR  AND  POMPEY 

second  quarto,  i6$$,  declares  that  it  was  acted  at  Blackfiriars.  Tliis 
statement  might,  no  doubt,  be  taken  as  a  bookseller's  flonrish  to  pro- 
mote the  sale.  In  1653,  nearly  twenty  years  after  Chapman's  death, 
there  were  probably  few  lovers  of  the  stage  in  London  who  could 
contradict  the  assertion.  Certainly  it  should  not  be  permitted  to  out- 
weigh unsupported  the  author's  own  words.  But  it  happens  that  the 
statement  of  this  quarto  is  corroborated  by  strong  intexiial  evidence, 
the  stage  directions  of  the  play  itself.  As  a  rule  Chapman  is  very  sparing 
of  stage  directions.  The  first  edition  of  Bussy,  for  example,  is  notably 
deficient  in  them.  It  is  only  in  the  second  edition,  a  revision  for  stage 
purposes,  that  they  appear  in  any  number.  A  few  Latin  phrases 
usually  serve  Chapman's  turn.  But  Cctsar  and  Pompey  is  renoarkable 
among  Elizabethan  tragedies  for  the  number  and  fulness  of  its  stage 
directions.  Consider  the  elaborate  stage  setting  indicated  at  the 
beginning  of  I,  ii,  the  costumes  and  '  make-up '  in  II,  i :  Fronio  ett 
ragged  in  an  overgrown  red  beard,  black  head,  with  a  haUer  in  his  hand. . . . 
Ophioneus  with  ihe  face,  wings,  and  tail  of  a  dragon  ;  a  skin  eomi  aU 
speckled  on  the  throat.  Note  tine  directions  for  action  scattered  through- 
out the  play :  Enter  Pompey  running  over  the  stage  with  his  wife  and 
children  (II,  i)  ;  Alarm,  excursions  of  all ;  the  five  kings  driven  over 
the  stage,  Crassinius  chiefly  pursuing  ;  at  the  door  enter  again  the  five 
kings.  The  battle  continued  within  (IV,  ii)  ;  enter  the  tdoo  Leniuli  and 
Demetrius  bleeding  and  kneel  about  Cornelia  (V,  i)  ;  He  falls  upon  his 
sword,  and  enter  StaHHus  at  another  side  of  the  stage  with  his  sword  drawn 
(V,  ii).  There  is  but  one  conclusion  possible,  I  think,  namely,  that 
the  play  as  it  now  stands  was  printed  from  a  stage  copy  which  had  been 
carefully  marked  for  performance.  Possibly  the  great  amount  of 
'  business  '  indicated  by  these  and  similar  directions  was  designed  to 
enliven  a  play  notably  deficient  in  action. 

What  are  we  to  think  of  this  in  the  light  of  Chapman's  statement  in 
the  Dedication  ?  The  simplest  explanation  would  be  that  he  did  not 
tell  the  truth  and  meant  to  pass  ofi  on  his  patron  an  old  and  probably 
unsuccessful  stage-play  as  a  virgin  work  '  never  clapper-clawed  with 
the  palms  of  the  vulgar '.  But  we  should  hesitate,  I  think,  to  accuse  a 
poet  like  Chapman,  '  of  reverend  aspect,  religious,  and  temperate  ',  of 
downright  falsehood,  if  there  is  any  other  possible  explanation.  We 
can  hardly  accept  the  hypothesis  that  Chapman  took  up  an  old  play 
—as  Fleay  (Biog.  Chron.,  vol.  i,  p.  65)  seems  to  think — and  rewrote 
it  as  a  closet  drama.  How  could  we  account  in  this  case  for  the  pres- 
ence of  the  elaborate  and  numerous  stage  directions.  Surely  these,  if 
occurring  in  the  old  play,  would  have  been  omitted  in  the  fair  copy  of 
Chapman's  revision.  Moreover,  with  the  possible  exception  of  parts 
of  two  scmeSy  the  play  is  Chapman's  work  from  beginning  to  end  ;  the 
prose  parts  towhidi  Fleay  alludes,  bits  of  II,  i,  and  of  V,  i,  are,  to  say 
the  least,  embedded  in  pure  Chapman  matter.  If  they  are  not  his,  and 
the  second  I  believe  to  be  certainly  and  entirely  so,  they  are  more  likely 
to  have  been  added  to  Chapman's  work  by  some  one  preparing  bis  play 
for  the  stage,  than  to  havd  been  allowed  by  the  poet  to  stand  when  he 
struck  out  all  the  rest  of  the  old  play.  The  only  hypothesis,  I  think, 
which  acquits  Chapman  of  inveracity  is  that  he  wrote  this  play  with 
no  thought  of  the  stage,  and  that  it  was  nevertheless  obtainai  by  the 
players  ^  at  Blackfriars  and  rehearsed  for  performance,  at  which  time 

*  Perhaps  the  King's  Men,  on  the  suggestion  of  Field, 


INTRODUCTION  657 

the  directions  would  naturally  be  inserted.  If  we  are  to  take  Chap- 
man's words  litersdly,  we  must  imagine  that  he  interfered,  withdrew  the 
play  before  any  performance,  kept  it  by  him  for  years,  and  toward  the 
close  of  his  life,  sent  the  interpolated  manuscript  to  the  printer,  hoping 
to  turn  an  honest  penny  by  an  almost  forgotten  work.  This  hypo- 
thesis, of  course,  leaves  out  of  account  the  statement  of  the  second 
quarto,  but  where  we  must  convict  either  the  poet  ^  or  a  later  publisher 
of  false  statement,  I  prefer  to  acquit  the  poet. 

The  sources  of  Cofsar  and  Pompey  have  been  pointed  out  by  Profes- 
sor Koeppel  (QueUen  und  Porschungen,  1897)  and  by  Dr.  Kern  {Casar 
and  Pompey  und  Ihre  Quetteny  Halle,  1901).  They  are  in  the  main  three 
of  Plutarch's  Lives,  tiiose  of  Caesar,  Pompey,  and  Cato  Minor.  In 
addition  Kern  shows  that  Chapman  made  repeated  drafts  upon  one  of 
his  favourite  books,  Plutarch's  Morals,  It  has  been  suggested  by 
Fleay  {Biog.  Chron,,  vol.  i,  p.  65)  that  Casar  and  Pompey  has  some 
connexion  with  a  play  mentioned  by  Henslowe  as  performed  for  the 
first  time  on  November  8, 1594,  by  the  Admiral's  Men.  This  play  in 
turn  has  been  identified  >  with  the  academic  tragedy  of  Casar  and 
Pompey  or  Casar* s  Revent^e,  published  in  1607.  I  have  discussed 
this  latter  identification*  e&ewnere,  and  shown,  I  think,  its  impossi- 
bility, and  I  have  pointed  out  above  the  extreme  improbability  of 
Chapman's  play  being  a  revision  of  that  acted  by  the  Admiral's  Men. 
AU  such  identifications  based  upon  mere  similarity  of  names  have  too 
slight  a  foundation  to  warrant  any  superstructure  of  hypothesis,  especi- 
ally in  the  case  of  a  play  dealing  with  the  story  of  Caesar,  then  as  ever 
a  common  theme  for  dramatists.* 

In  composing  his  Roman  tragedy  Chapman  had  before  him  models 
by  the  greatest  playwrights  of  the  age — Shakespeare,  Julius  Casar 
1601,  Antony  and  Cleopatra  1607-8,  Coriolanus  1609,  amd  Ben  Jonson 
Sejanus,  1603,  and  Catiline,  161 1.  It  is  plain,  however,  that  Chapman, 
with  his  usuai  independence  of  attitude,  disregarded  the  work  of  his  con- 
temporaries, and  struck  out  along  lines  more  congenial  to  his  peculiar 
temperament.  Shakespeare's  method  is  well  known.  He  followed  his 
source,  Plutarch,  with  great  reverence,  transcribing  at  times  whole 
speeches  smd  hardly  venturing  to  rearrange,  much  less  to  alter,  the 
actions  recorded  by  the  historian.  His  chief  interest  lay  in  the  char- 
acters from  whom  these  actions  proceeded,  and  he  bent  all  his  powers 
to  their  interpretation.  His  aim  was  to  render  the  historical  figures 
of  Brutus,  Antony,  Coriolanus,  and  Cleopatra,  credible,  comprehensible, 
and  dramatically  alive  ;  and  he  succeeded  so  well  that  the  mere  men- 
tion of  these  names  calls  up  to  every  reader  of  English  the  characters 
of  Shakespeare's  plays  ratner  than  the  figures  of  history.  Jonson's 
method  was  as  unlike  Shakespeare's  as  his  aim.  Far  more  widely 
read  in  the  classics  than  Shakespeare,  he  did  not  tie  himself  dotm  to 

^  Possibly  the  phrase  '  touched  at '  may  mean  '  aimed  at  ^  '  was  intended 
for*.  If  so,  there  may  have  been  a  few  performances  before  Chapman 
secured  the  return  of  the  play,  and  in  this  case  the  two  statements  are  not 
contradictory.    But  this  is  not  the  natural  meaning  of  the  phrase. 

s  Craik,  English  of  Shakespeare,  p.  46,  and  Schellmg,  Elisabethan  Drama, 
vol.  ii,  p.  548. 

>  Modern  Language  Reoiew,  October,  19  ro. 

*  See  my  arti^e  aboye  mentioned  for  a  list  of  Elizabethan  plays  on  Cassar. 

C,D.W,  V  XJ 


658  C/ESAR  AND  POMPEY 

any  single  source.  His  notes  to  Sejanus  show  that  in  addition  to  his 
chief  source,  Tacitus,  he  made  use  of  Dion  Cassius,  Suetonius,  and 
Velleius  Paterculus,  along  with  a  host  of  others.  His  Catiline  is  not 
founded  on  Plutarch,  but  goes  back  to  the  contemporary  accounts  of 
Sallust  and  Cicero.  His  aim,  as  might  be  expected  from  the  author  of 
The  Alchemist  and  Bartholomew  Fair,  was  not  to  create  or  interpret 
character,  but  to  present  in  dramatic  form  a  realistic  picture  of  a  cer- 
tain phase  of  life,  to  reproduce  the  atmosphere  and  environment  of 
ancient  Rome.  And  his  success  in  his  own  line  is  as  complete  as  Shake- 
speare's. If  Shakespeare's  characters  are  living  men  while  Jonson's 
are,  for  the  most  part,  puppets,  there  is  on  the  other  hand  more 
knowledge  of  Roman  public  life  and  a  more  lively  realization  of  its 
environment  in  two^  scenes  of  Jonson  than  in  all  Shakespeare's 
plays. 

Chapman,  on  the  other  hand,  aimed  at  quite  another  goal  in  the 
composition  of  Casar  and  Pompey,  As  in  lus  earlier  tragedies  he  set 
himself  here  to  embody  in  dramatic  form  an  ethical  idea,  and  that  there 
might  be  no  doubt  as  to  this  central  and  dominating  idea,  he  announced 
it  on  his  title-page.  The  play  is  a  tragedy  '  out  of  whose  events  is 
evicted  this  proposition  :  only  a  just  man  is  a  freeman '.  Intent  upon 
this  aim  he  cared  as  little  as  Jonson  for  the  creation  of  character,  as 
little  as  Shakespeare  for  the  reproduction  of  atmosphere  ;  and  he  ven- 
tured upon  liberties  with  the  facts  of  history  such  as  neither  Shake- 
speare nor  Jonson  had  allowed  himself.  It  is  not  from  ignorance  or 
carelessness  that  Chapman  introduces  into  the  first  act  a  full  dress 
debate  in  the  Senate  on  the  eve  of  the  Civil  War,  in  which  Caesar, 
actually  absent  in  Gaul,  takes  a  conspicuous  part,  but  that  he  may,  by 
contrasting  him  with  Caesar  as  well  as  Pompey,  magnify  Cato,  the 
personification  of  the  dominating  idea  of  the  play.  Against  all  re- 
proach for  such  violations  of  historical  truth  Chapman  would  have 
defended  himself  by  repeating  his  critical  dictum  in  the  Dedication  to 
The  Revenge  of  Bussy  that  the  subject  of  a  poem  is  '  not  truth,  but  things 
like  truth '.  Any  alteration  of  the  mere  facts  of  history  that  would 
tend  to  heighten  his  central  figure,  enforce  his  thesis,  and  so  conduce  to 
'  excitation  to  virtue  and  deflection  from  her  contrary ',  was  in  Chap- 
man's eyes  not  only  permissible,  but  laudable. 

Yet  it  is  plain,  notwithstanding  his  critical  theories  and  his  practical 
application  of  them  at  the  very  beginning  of  this  play,  that  Chapman 
was  unable  wholly  to  free  himself  from  the  blind  adherence  to  sources, 
the  tendency  to  represent  the  whole  original  story  in  dramatic  form, 
which  laid  its  chains  upon  all  his  contemporaries.  His  central  figure 
is  Cato,  and  Cato  represents  the  idea  to  enforce  which  the  play  was 
written.  Yet  as  the  drama  rises  to  its  climax  Chapman  dismisses 
Cato  from  the  scene  (II,  iv),  not  to  recall  him  for  two  acts,  and  during 
this  interval  the  whole  interest  of  the  play  shifts  to  the  struggle  be- 
tween Caesar  and  Pompey,  becomes  outward,  objective.  The  central 
idea  of  the  just  man  stsuiding  alone,  fearless  and  free,  against  all 
encroaching  t3n*anny,  is  quite  forgotten,  or  only  in  so  far  recalled  as 
Pompey  himself  is  used  to  embody  this  idea.  Chapman,  I  suppose,  was 
seduced  by  the  enthralling  interest  of  such  events  as  the  battle  of 
Pharsalia  and  the  murder  of  Pompey.  He  could  not  resign  himself  to 
discard  them  from  his  play,  and,  when  he  decided  to  retain  them,  he 

^  Sejanus f  II,  i ;  Caliline,  II,  i. 


J 


INTRODUCTION  659 

Bet  himself,  like  a  tme  son  of  the  Elizabethan  drama,  to  represent 
them  in  action,  rather  than  to  report  them  by  messenger.  Bnt  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  artistic  unity  of  the  play  suffers  from  this 
decision. 

Very  evident  jnroof  of  Chapman's  wavering  between  his  own  theories 
and  the  dramatic  practice  of  his  day  is  afforded  by  his  treatment  of  the 
character  of  Pompey.  At  first  following  the  conception  of  Plutarch 
he  represents  Pompey  as  striving  for  supreme  power  under  the  pretence 
of  defending  the  liberty  of  the  republic.  He  fills  Pompey's  mouth 
with  fine  speeches  assertiag  his  love  for  Rome,  but  shows  plainly 
enough,  whenever  Pompey  is  touched  to  the  quick,  that  he  is  actuated 
mainly  by  bitter  personal  jealousy  of  Caesar.  Note  especially  his  sav* 
age  attack  on  his  rival  in  the  Senate  (I,  ii,  330-270)  and  his  refusal  of 
me  offer  of  peace  because  he  will  not  '  rest  in  Caesar's  shades  *  (III, 
i,  99-105),  Like  Plutarch's  Pompey  he  is  forced  against  his  better  judg- 
ment into  delivering  the  decisive  battle,  and  wrecks  his  cause  rathra 
than  incur  the  charge  of  personal  cowardice.  But  when  the  battle  is 
over  Chapman's  interest  recurs  to  his  central  idea,  and  he  calls  upon 
Pompey  to  become  as  it  were  the  understudy  for  the  absent  Cato  and 
to  represent  the  idea  which  Cato  embodies.  And  straightway  this 
unheroic,  but  very  human,  figure  is  transformed  into  a  Stoic  of  the  purest 
type.  He  proclaims  that  in  spite  of  defeat  he  is  stitt  himself  in  every 
worth,  and  assures  his  equally  philosophic  wife  that  he  treads  this 
low  earth  as  he  trod  on  Caesar.  This  is  not  the  [Pompey  of  Plutarch  nor 
of  history.  It  is  not,  we  may  say  frankly,  a  credible  or  even  possible 
character.  It  is  a  stop-gap  of  the  playwright  hastily  caught  up  to  fill 
a  dramatic  void. 

Chapman  has  succeeded  better  with  the  figure  of  Caesar.  Making 
the  proper  allowances  for  Chapman's  method  of  work,  his  love  of  long 
species  and  his  obscure  and  contorted  style,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  he  has  come  nearer  the  Caesar  of  Plutarch  than  Shakespeare 
has  done.  Shakespeare's  portrait  of  Caesar  as  an  elderly,  pompous, 
and  valetudinarian  tyrant  is  singularly  unconvincing.  Chapman's 
conception  of  him  as  the  favourite  of  Fortune— som^  heme  said  she  was 
the  page  of  Ccesar,  I,  ii,  167 — eloquent,  energetic,  generous,  loth  to 
spill  blood,  quick  to  repair  an  error,  and  supremely  confident  in  his 
destiny,  is  a  much  truer  likeness  of  '  the  mightiest  Julius '.  Most  of 
the  traits  of  Chapman's  character  are  drawn,  of  course,  from  Plutarch  ; 
but  there  are  one  or  two  passages,  notably  the  speech  on  the  morning 
of  the  battle  (III,  ii,  110-38),  in  which  Chapman  breaks  free  from  hia 
sources  and  seems  to  exercise  a  real  gift  of  divination,  hinting,  at  least, 
at  the  true  character  of  Caesar  as  it  has  been  drawn  by  later  historians, 
the  man  who  made  himself  master  of  his  country  to  save  her  from 
impending  ruin  and  to  re-establish  her  power  on  a  more  permanent 
foundation. 

It  is  needless  to  say,  however,  that  Chapman's  sympathies  are  not 
with  Csesar.  The  true  hero  of  the  tragcKly  is,  of  course,  Cato  tiie 
republican.  In  depicting  the  character  of  Cato  Chapman  has  cut  away 
all  non-essentials  and  fastened  firmly  upon  his  fundamental  and  distin- 
guishing trait.  This  trait,  I  think,  may  be  best  expressed  by  the  phrase 
'  spiriti;^independence,'  that  self -sufficiencylof  the  individual  sonl,  which 
is  the  essence  of  the  Stoic  doctrine.  Of  all  Chapman's  heroes  it  is  to 
the  '  Senecal  man ',  Clermont  D'Ambois,  that  Cato  bears  the  closest 
resemblance,    But  while  Clermont  is  shown  entangled  in  the  mesh^ 


66o  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY 

of  a  private  intrigue  of  a  nature  to  obscure,  if  not  to  degrade^  his  stoical 
{vinciples,  the  (£ief  feature  of  Cato's  character  stands  ont  against  a 
vtormy  background  of  great  historic  events.  The  aim  of  the  poet  is  to 
show  how,  far  from  being  swept  away  by  the  tide,  Cato  fights  his  way 
throng  and  reaches  his  last  great  decision  in  the  same  complete  seli- 
posseesion  that  marked  his  fiist  action.  No  dash  <^  warring  i^ctiaa^ 
no  fall  qf  empires,  no  loss  of  outward  hopes — such  is  Chapman's  teacb- 
ing".'Can  desvive  the  just  man  of  his  spiritual  freedom  : 

Si  fradMS  iUabiiur  ofbis 

Impfwidum  jeHent  twinae. 

This  freedom,  it  is  interesting  to  note,  rests  in  Cato's  case  upon  pro- 
found religious  conviction.  There  is  an  effective  contrast  drawn  in  tiie 
play  between  Caesar's  superstitious  belief  in  the  gods  as  the  disposen 
of  outward  events  and  Cato's  reliance  upon  their  eternal  and  nnchaag- 
ing  justice.    And  since  the  just  man  partakes  of  the  nature  of  & 


for  hi%  goodness 
Proceeds  from  them  and  is  a  beam  of  theirS'^ 

the  gods  are  by  their  very  nature  bound  to  defend  him  who  represents 
tiieir  cause.  But  if  in  their  inscrutable  wisdom  they  withdraw  their 
countenance,  and  suffer  the  good  cause  to  go  to  ruin,  the  just  man 
is  bound  like  them '  to  fly  the  world  '.  It  is  in  the  |strength  of  sodi 
convictions  that  Cato  acts  throughout  the  play.  He  scorns  the  danger 
that  threatens  him  from  Cassar's  ruffians,  and  rises  in  the  Senate 
to  oppose  Cnsar  and  Pompey  alike.  On  the  outbreak  of  civil  war  he 
joins  the  camp  of  Pompey  as  the  least  formidable  enemy  to  the  freedom 
of  the  repubUc,  but  without  in  the  least  renouncing  his  independence 
of  attitude.  He  does  not  even  take  orders  from  Pompey  ;  it  is  at  the 
command  of  the  Senate,  which  alone,  in  his  opinion,  has  a  right  to  lay 
commands  upon  a  citizen,  that  he  departs  from  the  camp  to  secure  the 
*  neighbour  confines  '  from  the  hazards  of  war.  And  when  the  war  is 
over  and  the  ancient  freedom  of  the  state  destroyed,  he  decides  calmly 
to  end  his  own  life  rather  than  submit  to  a  tyranny. 

This  independence  of  Cato  is  recognised  and  admired  by  all  who 
come  into  contact  with  him.  He  has  '  his  little  Senate ',  hk  son,  his 
disciple,  his  attendant  philosopher,  who  serve  Chapman  as  a  sort  of 
chorus  to  applaud  his  character  to  re-echo  his  principles,  sometimes 
even,  by  opposing  them,  to  elucidate  and  fix  more  deeply  in  our  minds 
his  dominant  beliefs.  The  more  active  figures  of  the  play  are  equally 
ready  with  their  tribute.  Metellus,  the  tool  of  Cassar,  admits  Cato's 
inaccessibility  to  flattery  <»>  fear  ;  Pompey  acknowledges  his  '  infinite 
merits  ' ;  and  Caesar,  standing  over  his  corpse,  confesses  that  his  Ufe 
was  '  rule  to  all  lives  '  and  that  his  own  conquests  are  blasted  by  Cato's 
grave  scorn.  If,  as  Chapman  thought,  ethical  instruction  were  the  true 
aim  of  tragedy,  it  would  be  hard  to  find  in  Elizabethan  drama  a  truer 
and  nobler  tragic  hero  than  Chapman's  Cata 

So  deep  is  C^pman's  interest  in  his  hero,  and  so  completely  does  the 
poet  sympathize  with  the  Stoic's  ruling  principle  of  independence,  that 
toward  the  close  of  the  play  he  unconsciously  identifies  himself  with 
Cato,  and  puts  into  the  mouth  of  his  hero  words  that  we  can  only  inter- 
pret as  the  poet's  own  utterances  on  the  deepest  mysteries  of  life  and 
death.  It  is  quite  in  keeping  with  the  historic  and  dramatic  character 
of  Cato  to  refuse  to  take  his  life  as  a  ^ft  from  Caesar,  and  to  defend 


INTRODUCTION  66l 

ftuicide  on  the  gtotind  that  the  just  man  not  only  may,  but  most 
'  enlarge  hid  life  from  adl  rule  tyraanoua  '.  But  when  the  Roman  ^toic 
goes  on  to  profess  his  belief,  not  merely  in  the  immortality  ^  of  the  soul, 
but  in  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  in  the  recognition  of  friends  in  the 
next  world  and  the  retention  after  death  of  the  '  f onns  of  knowledge 
learned  in  life  ',  the  anachronism  of  ideas  becomes  so  glaring  that  we  at 
once  recognize  that  Chapman  the  dramatist  has  been  absorbed  by 
Chapman  the  poet-philosopher.  And  if,  as  we  all  feel,  a  deeper  pathos  is 
added  to  the  words  of  Prospero  and  Hamlet — affimiing  that  our  little 
life  is  rounded]with  a  sleep,  or  brooding  in  hopeless  terror  on  what  dreams 
may  come — ^b'y  our  belief  that  here,  at  least,  we  catch  the  voice  of 
Shakespeare  as  a  rare  undertone  to  the  utterance  of  his  creatures,  so, 
in  like  manner,  an  added  glory  of  faith  and  hope  is  given  to  the  last  words 
of  Chapman's  hero  by  the  faict  that  he  is  here  the  true  mouthpiece  *  of 
the  poet  himself. 

It  is  this  revelation  of  the  inner  heart  of   Chapman,  unparalleled 

elsewhere  in  his  dramatic  work,  that  lends  a  strong  personal  interest 

to  the  tragedy  of  Casar  and  Pompey,    And,  on  the  other  hand,  Uie 

lustre  whidi  Chapman's  own  faith  sheds  about  the  last  hours  of  Cato 

gives  to  this  tragedy  a  peculiar  place  among  his  plays.     Outwardly  it 

is  like  h^  other  serious  plays,  a  tragedy  of  the  conflict  between  the 

individual  and  his  environment.     Cato,  like  Bussy,  Byron,  Clermont, 

and  Chabot,  struggles  with  exterior  and  hostile  forces,  is  beaten  down, 

and  dies.     But  there  is  no  trace  in  Casar  and  Pompey  of  the  pathos 

that  hangs  about  the  last  scenes  of  Chapman's  other  tragedies.     The 

play,  though  in  form  a  tragedy,  is  in  reality,  the  epic  of  a  spiritual 

triumph.     Cato  to  the  outer  sense  is  conquered ;  to  the  inner  eye  he 

rises  &om  the  conflict  as  more  than  conqueror.    There  is  an  external 

likeness,  due,  of  course,  to  the  facts  of  history,  between  the  closing  scenes 

of  Casar  and  Pompey  and  Shakespeare's  Julius  Casar,     Brutus,  like 

Cato,  has  fought  to  save  the  republic,  has  lost,  and  lays  hands  upon 

himself  rather  than  yield  to  the  conqueror;  but  in  how  different  a  spirit 

is  this  last  act  performed.     Brutus  is  a  weary  and  broken  man — 

'  night  hangs  upon  my  eyes  ;  my  bones  would  rest ',  he  sighs  ;  he  has 

just  strengtii  enough  to  snatch  himself  from  the  bondage  that  awaits 

him,  and  seeks  in  the  grave  a  refuge  from  the  agony  of  the  past  and 

the  impending  shame  of  the  future.     Cato,  on  the  other  hand,  has  never 

been  stronger  in  body  and  spirit  than  in  his  last  hours.     It  is  not  fear 

of  being  led  in  triumph  that  impels  him  to  suicide,  but  a  high  scorn 

of  seeming  even  to  consent  to  Caesar's  conquest  by  consenting  to  accept 

his  life  from  the  conqueror.     He  beats  down  with  irresistible  force 

the  arguments  and  prayers  of  those  who  would  have  him  live,  and  his 

last  words  as  he  falls  on  his  sword  ring  like  the  trumpet  call  that 

announces  the  entry  of  a  monarch  into  some  new  dominion : 

Now  wing  thee,  dear  soul,  and  receive  her,  heaven^ 
The  earth,  the  air,  the  seas  I  know,  and  aU 
The  joys  and  horrors  of  their  peace  and  wars. 
And  now  wUl  see  the  Gods*  state  and  the  stars/ 

1  See  V,  i,  141-50 ;  IV,  v,  89-136 ;  V,  i,  134-40. 

*  Kem*8  remark  that  in  IV,  v,  80-136)  Cato  defends  the  Christian  doctrine 
of  the  resurrection  by  the  Aristotelian  conception  of  the  necessary  barmonv 
between  form  and  matter,  a  conception  familiar  to  Chapman  from  his  uni- 
versity training,  seems  to  establish  the  identity  of  Cato  and  Chapman* 


66tf  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY 

There  is  no  place  here  for  pathos.  '  Nothing  is  for  tears*  nothing  t(% 
wail/  the  lines  of  Samson  Agtmistes  rise  instinctively  to  the  lips.  In 
Cato's  end  as  in  Samson's  there  is 

Nothing  UA  weU  and  fair, 
And  what  ntay  quiet  us  in  a  death  so  nobis. 


iJ 


C^SAR  AND  POMPEY 

NOTES 

DSDXOATXOH.  The  Earl  oi  lUddleiez  :  Lionel  Cranfield,  1575-X645,  first 
Earl  of  Middlesex.  A  London  citizen  remarkable  for  his  administrative 
abilitVy  he  was  presented  to  James  I*s  attention  by  Northampton,  and  rose 
rapidly,  not  only  by  his  own  merits,  but  by  the  favour  of  Buckingham.  He 
became  Treasurer,  and  was  made  Earl  of  Middlesex  in  1622.  Incurring 
Buckingham's  displeasure  during  the  latter's  absence  in  Spain,  the  Duke 
induced  the  Commons  to  impeach  him  in  1624.  He  was  convicted,  though 
apparently  on  slight  evidence,  of  mismanagement  and  corruption,  heavily 
miedy  and  remanded  to  private  life.  He  retired  to  his  country-place,  Copt 
Hall,  in  Essex,  where  in  Fuller's  phrase  he  '  entertained  his  friends  bountifully, 
neighbours  hospitably,  poor  charitably '.  I  find  no  other  trace  than  this 
dedication  of  his  connexion  with  Chapman. 

Oaiueleflaly  impair  it :  derogate  without  just  cause  from  its  aesthetic  worth. 

Scanical  representation  :    performance  of  a  play  on  the  staj^e. 

The  oni^  section  •  •  .  thus  mach  :  '  the  mere  fact  of  its  division  into  acts 
and  scenes  makes  me  insist  upon  to  such  a  degree '. 

Numerous  elocution  :    metrical  lanjguage,  poetry. 

Some  work  :  it  is  not  likely  that  this  refers  to  any  particular  work  of  Chap- 
man's. At  any  rate  he  published  nothing  between  1 63 1,  which  we  may  assume 
as  the  date  of  this  dedication,  and  his  death  in  1634. 

Dramatis  PsRSONiB 

Bextns  t  the  younger  son  of  Pompey,  present  with  his  mother  at  the  murder 
of  Pompev. 

Athenodoms :  a  Stoic  mentioned  in  CatOf  10.  Cato  visited  him  in  Pergamus, 
and,  In-inging  him  back  to  Rome,  installed  him  in  his  house,  where  he 
spent  the  rest  of  his  life,  Strabo,  Geography^  XIV,  v,  14.  He  takes  the  place 
in  Act  V  of  ApoUonides  the  Stoic  and  Demetrius  the  Peripatetic,  who  were 
with  Cato  during  his  last  days  in  Utica,  Cato,  65,  67,  69,  70. 

Statilins  :  mentioned  in  Cato,  65,  as  *  a  young  man  who  aimed  at  being  an 
imitator  of  the  indifference  [i.e.  the  stoicism]  of  Cato  \  He  fell,  along  with 
Brutus  and  the  younger  Cato,  at  Philippi. 

Cleanthes:  a  freedman  of  Cato,  who  acted  as  his  physician,  Cato,  70. 

BUnnttns:  Minutius  Thermus,  a  colleague  of  Cato  and  MeteUus  in  the 
tribunate,  63  b.c. 

Hotellnsi  Q.  Metellus  Nepos,  an  adherent  of  Pompey,  elected  tribune  in 
63  B.C.  Chapman  makes  him  a  tool  of  Caesar,  but  in  Plutarch,  CaiOt  20, 
26-29,  he  appears  as  an  advocate  of  Pompey,  assisted  at  this  time  by  Csesar. 

KuoeUiis.    It  is  not  possible  to  determine  what  character  Chapman  had 
in  mind,  since  this  personage  appears  only  in  one  scen^  I,  ii,  ana  does  not 
open  his  mouth  there.    A  MarceUus  is  mentioned  in  Caio,  18,  as  a  friend  of 
Cato's  from  his  boyhood ;   ۥ  Claudius  Marcellus  was  consul  in  49  e.g.  the . 
year  in  which  the  war  between  Cesar  and  Pompey  began,  Pompey,  58. 

QaUnins :  Aulus  Gabinius,  '  a  man  from  the  lap  of  Pompeius ',  Cato,  33. 
In  67  B.C.  he  proposed  the  law  which  gave  Pompey  command  against  the 
pirates,  Pompey,  25. 

YiUns :  L.  Vibullius  Rufus,  taken  prisoner  by  Caesar  at  Corfinum  and  axain 
in  Spain,  and  dispatched  by  CiBsar  as  a  bearer  of  terms  to  Pompey,  CivU 

663 


664 


CAESAR  AND  POMPEY 


War,  Illt  to.  Plutarch  calls  him  'lov^toc,  which  probably  accouiits  for  Chap- 
man's use  of  the  fonn  Vibius, 

Demetrini:  not  a  Roman  noble,  but  a  freedman  of  Pompey,  Pompey,  40. 
Chapman  makes  him  a  stoic  philosopher  (IV»  iii),  and  an  eye-witness  of  Pom- 
pey^ murder,  neither  of  which  corresponds  to  Plutarch's  account. 

The  two  LentnU  :  mentioned  in  Pompey ,  73,  as  taken  on  board  with  Pompey 
on  his  flight  to  Lesbos.  Chapman  makes  them  attendants  of  Cornelia  at 
I.esbos. 

Oraniiiiiii :  Caius  Crassinius,  or  Crassinianus  {Casar,  44 ;  Pompey,  71)^ 
a  centurion  in  Casar's  army. 

Adlini :  an  Adlius,  a  soldier  of  Cassar's,  is  mentioned  in  Ct^sar,  x6,  as 
distinguishing  himself  in  the  sea-fight  off  Massilia ;  but  he  could  hardly  have 
been  present  in  the  campaign  against  Pompey.  Marcus  Acilius  is  mentioned 
in  the  Civil  War  III,  16,  as  a  Ueutenant  of  CaBsar. 

Achillas  :  an  Egyptian,  who  sat  in  the  council  that  decided  on  the  murder 
of  Pompey,  and  superintended  the  execution  of  the  deed,    Pompey,  77,  7S. 

Septiminf :  a  centurion  in  the  Egyptian  arm^,  who  had  formerly  served 
under  Pompey,  the  first  of  the  murderers  to  strike  htm,  Pompey,  78^  79. 

Salvini :  a  centurion  in  the  Egyptian  army,  associated  with  Septjmias  in 
the  murder  of  Pompey,  Pompey,  78-9. 

Maroiliiis  :   a  slave  of  Cato.    The  name  is  not  mentioned  by  Plutarch. 

Bntai  :  Kern's  emendation  for  Bruhis,  Cato  employed  him  as  '  chief  in 
all  public  matters  ',  Cato,  70. 

lirnfiis  :  a  mute  character  who  only  appears  in  the  stage  directioo  before 
V,  1.  As  he  is  introduced  with  the  maids  of  Cornelia,  I  take  him  to  be  her 
servant,  but  no  such  name  appears  in  Plutarch's  narrative. 

Ophioneni :  see  note  on  II,  i,  57. 

The  two  ooubqIi  :  the  consuls  for  the  year  49  b.c.  were  L.  Combos  Les- 
tulus  and  C.  Claudius  Marcellus. 

Oomelia  :  daughter  of  Metellus  Scipio,  betrothed  to  the  younger  Crassos* 
who  was  slain  by  the  Parthians,  and  later  the  wife  of  Pompey. 

Cyril :  Chapman  seems  to  have  invented  this  strange  name  for  Pompey's 
daughter.  A  daughter  by  his  third  wife,  Muda,  was  called  Pompeia ;  the 
infant  daughter  of  his  fourth  wife,  Julia,  died  a  few  days  after  her  mother's 
death  in  childbed. 

TelBBiUa  and  Iinlia :  mute  figures  who  appear  only  in  V,  i,  apparently  the 
serving-maids  of  Cornelia. 

Tho  Argument :  both  the  consuls  sk^ughtered  with  (heir  own  kattds.  This  is 
an  invention  of  Chapman's.  Lentulus  was  murdered  in  Egypt  shortly  after 
the  death  of  Pompey ;  nothing  certain  ia  known  as  to  the  death  of  MaroelluSi 
but  he  seems  to  have  fallen  in  the  war.    See  Cicero,  Philippic  XIII,  14. 

I,  L  The  place  is  evidently  Cato's  house ;  the  time  immediatdy  before  the 
outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  ;  but  Chapman  borrows  some  details  from  an 
earlier  period.    See  note  on  U.  40-4. 

I,  if  18.  Cross  .  .  .  aquiline  virtue,  A  cross  is  a  coin  stamped  with  the 
figiure  of  a  cross.  Chapman  uses  the  word  aquiline  as  a  laudatory  epithet 
in  contrast  with  the  puttochs,  L  14,  nourished  by  Caasar's  boimty. 

I»  i«  18.*28.    Cf.  An  Invective  against  Ben  Jonson: 

their  hhod  standing  lakes, 
Green'beUied  serpents  and  black-freckled  snakes 
Crawling  in  their  unwieldy  dotter^d  veins. 

Poems,  p.  43«. 

I>  i*  40-4*  This  account  of  the  anxiety  of  CaW*a  fcie&ds  and  f amfly  is  taken 
from  Cato,  37.  It  belongs  properly  to  a  time  hmg  before  the  outbreak 
of  the  Civil  War,  when  Cato  was  praparing  to  oppose  the  suggestion  of 
Metellus  to  recall  Pompey  and  his  army  from  Asia. 

I,  !•  48.  Castor  and  Pollux  Temple  :  a  temple  on  the  south  side  of  the  Forum, 
where  the  people  were  to  meet  to  vote  on  the  proposal  of  MeleUus. 


NOTES  665 

I,  i,  68.  The  Bench :  Chapman's  translation  of  Plntarch's  ^n^^,  used  here 
for  the  Latin  tostta  from  which  speakers  addressed  the  assembly  in  the 
Forum* 

I,  i*  87-70.  This  passage  is  translated,  as  Kern  has  shown,  from  Hutarch, 
De  SuperstUitmet  3 :  Qui  decs  metun^  omima  mctwi^  tenamt  ware,  aitttv^ 
caelum,  tenebras,  Jucem,  rumorem,  sUenUum,  somntum.  It  is  interesting 
to  note  that  Chapman  has  inserted  the  phrase  f<fr  auard  of  awy  goodMe9$ 
to  explain  the  nature  of  the  'fear  of  the  gods*  which  he  is  speaking  of,  ie. 
distrust  in  their  protection  of  goodness. 

I,  U  80-8.  '  May  this  fear,  or  distrust  of  the  gods'  watchful  care  of  goodness» 
no  more  infect  your  mind  than  the  gods  themselves  are  infected  by  fear 
in  their  defence  of  the  good '. 

I»  !•  88.  MinuUus  Thermus,  Cato's  CQUeagU|%  roused  him  from  sleep  and 
accompanied  him  to  the  Forum!on  the  occasion  of  his  opposition  to  Metellus. 

If  iL  This  scene  is  a  compound  of  Plutarch's  account  of  the  session  of  the 
Senate  immediatdy  before  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  Cassof,  30,  and 
of  the  debate  in  the  Forum  on  the  proposal  of  Metedius,  Cato,  27-9* 
Chapman  barrows  many  incidents  from  the  latter  to  give  distinction  to 
the  person  and  behaviour  of  Cato,  who  does  not  seem  to  have  played  a 
conspicuous  part  in  the  former. 

I9  ii*  1^  Casar  appears  to  have  supported  the  proposal  of  Metellus,  Cato, 
27 ;  but,  as  the  time,  62  B.C.,  was  four  years  before  his  command  of  the 
army  in  Gaul,  without  the  ulterior  purpose  that  Chapman  here  assigns  him. 

1^  ii,  liD-17.  '  When  Cato  saw  the  temple  of  the  Dioscuri  surrounded  by 
armed  men  and  the  steps  guarded  by  gladiators  ...  he  turned  to  his 
friends  and  said  :  '*  O  the  daring-  and  cowardly  men  to  collect  such  a 
force  of  soldiery  against  a  single  man  unarmed  and  defenceless  " ',  Cato,  27. 

I»  ii,  iJB.  With  this  ironic  speech,  cf.  Monsieur's  words  in  The  Revenge  of 
Bussy,  I,  i,  180. 

I»  ii,  80.  The  stage  direction  in  this  line  comes  .from  Cato,  27,  as  are  the 
applauding  voices  in  the  lines  immediately  following. 

I,  ii,  M-l.    Cf.  Bussy,  III,  ii,  25-26. 

]» ii,  84-48.  The  alleged  reason  for  the  proposal  of  Metellus  was  that  Pompey 
should  protect  the  city  from  Catiline,  Cato,  26 ;  but  the  chief  conspira- 
tors had  already  been  executed,  so  that  the  reference  to  their  imprison- 
ment, H,  38-39,  is  one  of  Chapman's  deliberate  inaccuracies. 

1^  ii»  40.  Cato's  speech  in  favour  of  punishing  the  conspirators  is  mentioned 
by  Plutarch,  Cato,  23.  As  reported  by  Sallust,  CatUinCf  52,  it  has  little 
likeness  to  the  speech  in  the  text. 

I,  ii*  78.  Beat  one  sole  path :  cf.  Monsieur  ly Olive,  I,  i,  z6:  the  only  ring  our 
powers  shoidd  beat. 

I»  ii,  78-180.  Oesar's  speech  in  favour  of  imprisonment  rather  than  death 
for  the  Catilinarian  conspirators  is  mentioned  by  Plutarch,  CatOt  22,  and 
Casar,  7 ;  but  Chapman  appears  aiso  to  have  taken  a  hint  from  the 
oration  as  reported  by  Sallust.  Compare  IL  81-84  with  Catiline,  51. 
His  long  eulogy  of  his  own  deeds  was,  of  course,  never  delivered  in  public, 
but  Chapman  has  taken  the  statistics  given  in  U.  zio~ii6  from  Casar,  15. 

I»  ii,  117-»^«  A  difficult  passage  which  may  be  paraphrased  as  follows  : 
'  This  service  which  I  have  just  recounted  may  show  that  I  love  my  coun- 
try enough  to  be  acquitted  of  any  suspicion  of  selfish  interest,  contrary 
to  the  public  good,  in  the  proposal  I  make  for  dealing  justly  [Le.  by  im- 
prisonment rather  than  death]  with  the  accused.  This  motion  is  for 
justice  in  an  individual  instance,  and  the  general  power  of  the  state  is 
maintained  by  just  dealing  in  individual  cases.  Yet  my  proposal,  im- 
prisonment rather  than  death,  is  only  incidents  in  order  that  the  cause 
assigned  by  MeteUos  for  bringing  back  Pompey's  army  [i.e.  to  crush  the 
conspiracy]  may  not  seem  of  too  great  importance  to  permit  the  sparing 
of  the  prisoners'  lives.  And  if  these  are  spared,  we  find  in  them  a  £[ood 
reason  for  bringing  back  Pompey's  army '.  Chapman  has  probably  given 
an  intentionally  obscure  and  casuistical  turn  to  this  speech. 


666  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY 

1^  il^  lt6-<8«  '  He  loves  his  country,  as  I  strons^y  hope,  too  well  to  wish  to 
role  her  as  a  monarch,  since  the  task  of  government  appears  hard  enough 
when  performed,  as  at  present,  by  so  many,  Le.  by  the  Senate  and  the 
elected  officiab '. 

|»  lit  151.  Not  suspecUd  the  sffea :  *  the  effect  is  not  to  be,  should  not  b^ 
suroected '. 

1^  lit  lto4.  *  Would  put  my  supposed  desire'  for  absolute  rule  into  the  power 
of  others  [Le.  by  allowing  them  to  vote  against  the  means  to  accomplish 
this  desire],  and  my  powers  [i.e.  my  army],  unforfeited  by  any  fault  of 
mine,  under  the  control  of  the  will  of  others  '. 

t,  ii,  107.    My  sdf'love  :  the  object  of  to  quit  [i.e. '  acquit ']  or  think  of,  1.  z6o. 

I»  id  181-t.  Thru  triumphs  .  .  .  Asia:  Pompey  celebrated  three  triumphs, 
first  for  his  victories  over  the  Marians  and  their  adherents  in  Africa,  then 
for  his  victories  in  Spain,  and  lastlv  for  his  conquests  in  Asia.  Plutarch, 
Pompey,  45,  says  :  ^  It  was  the  chief  thing  toward  his  ^ory,  and  what 
had  never  before  hai>pened  to  any  Roman,  that  he  celehrat«l  his  third 
triumph  over  the  third  continent.  For  though  others  before  him  had 
triumphed  three  times,  Pompey  by  having  gained  his  first  triumph  over 
Libya,  his  second  over  Europe,  and  this  the  last  over  Asia,  seemed  In  a 
manner  to  have  brought  the  whole  world  into  his  three  triumphs'. 

1^  ii.  187-74  Plutarch,  Ds  Fortuna  Romanorum,  6,  says  this  was  the  belief 
of  Ca»ar  himself  :  Adeo  certus  animi  erat  Cmsar,  Fortunam  sibi  naviganti, 
peregrinanti,  betUgeranU,  adem  instruenti  adesse :  cuius  essent  partes  mari 
troHquiUtatem  imponere,  aestatemhiemi,  ceUritatem  iofdissimis,  vires  segHissi- 
mis,    I  owe  this  reference  to  Dr.  Kern. 

I,  11,  180.    Tfansferr*d  with  affectation:   transported  by  desire. 

I»  11, 191-M.  Caisar's  proposition  in  these  lines  is  based  upon  the  proposal 
contained  in  the  letter  read  by  Antony  before  the  Senate,  Casar,  30.  See 
the  same  paragraph  for  the  vote  in  the  Senate  as  to  Pompey  and  Cassar's 
dismissing  their  armies. 

I»  ii.  198.  To  take,  etc,:  'in  taking  away  my  office  and  the  army  which 
accompanies  it,  etc*. 

1, 11, 808-lJB.  Here  Chapman  once  more  reverts  to  the  debate  on  the  proposition 
of  Metellus.  The  speech  of  Metellus,  the  objections  of  Minutius  and  Cato» 
and  the  stage  direction  after  1.  209,  come  from  Cato,  28,  except  that  it 
was  Cato  who  snatched  the  bill,  and  Minutius  who  laid  his  hand  on  the 
mouth  of  Metellus  to  prevent  his  speaking.  Cttsar's  command  to  bear 
Cato  to  prison  comes  from  another  part  of  Cato*s  career,  when  he  was 
opposing  the  agrarian  lavrs  introduced  by  Cttsar  as  consul,  Cato,  33. 

I»  ii,  81B-19.  Were  form  .  .  .  place :  '  were  the  upright  form  of  Cato's  mfaid 
equipped  with  the  titles  and  offices  it  deserves  ' — so,  at  least,  I  understand 
the  passage. 

1, 11,  884-8.    Cf.  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  55. 

I,  ii.  841^.  The  allusion  to  Csssar's  temperance,  and  the  disease,  epHepsy, 
which  necessitated  his  frugal  diet,  is  from  Casar,  17.  The  explanation 
of  the  cause  of  this  disease  in  IL  246-56  seems  based  on  a  somewhat  con- 
fused rememlnrance  of  the  theory  of  Hippocrates  in  De  Morbo  Sacro,  where 
also  the  statement  occurs  as  to  the  frequency  with  which  goats  are 
attacked  by  epilepsy,  1.  256.  See  De  Morbo  Sacro,  pp.  47-9,  edited  by 
Dietz,  Leipzig,  1827. 

1^  ii,  878*7.    Cf.  A  Justification  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda: 

I  oft  have  read  of  one 
So  sharp-eyed  he  could  see  through  oah  and  stone. 
Another  that  high  set  in  Sicily 
As  far  as  Carthage  numbered  with  his  eye 
The  navy  under  sail,  which  was  dissite 
A  night  and  day's  sail  with  winds  most  fore^ghJt. 

Poems,  p.  197. 
The  source  of  these  lines  is  Plutarch's  De  Communibus  Notitiis,  44,  5  : 
Lynceus  ille  dicitur  visu  per  saxum  et  quercum  penetrasse  ;  et  quidam  in 


NOTES  667 

spicula  Sicilioi  sedans  conspexU  Carthaginier^sium  naves  e  Porfu  enavigattUa, 
diH  noctisque  cursu  inde  disiantes.  The  mention  of  Lynceus  in  this  passage 
gives  Chapman  his  adjective  LyncMti  in  L  282. 

I,  ji«  284.    Flora's  connexion  with  Pompey  is  mentioned  in  Pombey^  2. 

It  %  &B6.  Galha  and  Sarm^ntus  :  parasites  mentioned  by  Juvenal,  Salire  V, 
3-4.  Chapman  translated  this  satire  in  or  before  1629^  when  it  was 
published  along  with  his  JusUficoHon  of  a  Strange  Action  of  Nero, 

It  n,  288.  Agamemnon  .  .  .  king  of  men :  it  should,  of  course,  be  '  king  of 
kings '.  Ahenobarbus  applied  this  title  to  Pompey  before  the  battle  of 
Pharsalia,  Pompey,  67. 

I,  il,  898.  /  hear  it  thunder:  Pompey  dissolved  the  assembly  which  was 
electing  Cato  prsstor  under  the  pretence  that  he  heard  thunder,  Cato,  4a. 
As  often  Chapman  here  borrows  an  incident  from  a  quite  difietent  con- 
nexion to  heighten  this  scene. 

I,  il,  SB7-800.    The  speeches  of  the  consuls  are  from  Pompey,  58-9. 

n^  L  This  is  the  most  i)erplexinK  scene  of  the  play.  It  is  almost  im- 
possible to  reconcile  with  the  idea  that  Chapman  wrote  this  play  with  no 
view  to  a  sta^e  performance.  Not  only  do  the  elaborate  stage  directions 
contradict  this  idea,  but  the  whole  tone  of  the  scene  is  that  of  comic  relief 
of  such  a  nature  as  was  demanded  hy  the  audience  in  an  early  period  of 
the  Elizabethan  drama.  Fleay,  Btog,  Chron,^  i,  65,  thinks  that  this 
scene  has  been  retained  from  the  old  play  mentioned  by  Henslowe.  This 
[  would  seem  to  be  supported  by  the  fact  that  a  great  part  of  the 
scene  is  written  in  *  hasty  i>rose ',  which,  according  to  the  Dedication, 
Chapman  avoided  in  writmg  this  play.  Yet  the  diction  of  the  scene  is 
on  the  whole  strongly  reminiscent  of  Chapman,  in  the  prose  as  well  as 
in  the  verse  portions.  The  opening  speecn  is  certainly  his  ;  the  name, 
Ophion&us,  and  the  allusion  to  the  old  Stoic  Pherecides,  point  to  Chap- 
man ;  and  the  comment  on  the  diversity  of  religions,  11.  38-41,  must  be 
his.  Cf.  Revenge  of  Bnssy,  V,  i,  17-23.  Fleay  suggests  that  the  old  play 
itself  may  have  been  by  Chapman  ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  of  this. 

On  the  whole,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  this  scene  represents  Chap- 
man's hasty  rewriting — ^much  of  the  prose  sounds  like  blank  verse  in  the 
roufh — of  some  old  scene — ^his  own  or  another's*- of  farcical  conjuration, 
su^  as  the  comic  scenes  in  Dr,  Faustusm  If  so,  he  must  have  meant  it 
as  a  bit  of  comic  relief  in  a  tragedy  destined  for  the  stage,  but  afterwards, 
perhaps  when  he  gave  up  the  notion  of  offering  this  play  to  the  actors,  he 
dropped  the  idea  of  lightening  his  play  in  any  such  manner.  This  would 
account  for  the  complete  disappearance  of  Fronto  from  the  action  after 
this  scene. 

t  1*  20.  Knacks  to  know  a  knave :  the  anonymous  play,  A  Knack  to  Know 
a  Knave,  was  acted  at  the  Rose  on  June  10,  1592.  Fleay  holds  that  wa 
have  here  an  allusion  to  this  play.  To  follow  the  usual  practice  and  fix 
[  the  date  of  this  allusion  shortly  ajter  the  production  of  the  pla^  to  which 
it  alludes  would  be  to  throw  C(tsar  and  Pompey,  or  this  bit  of  it,  at  least, 
back  to  the  very  beginning  of  Chapman's  career.  This  seems  manifestly 
impossible,  and  I  am  indmed  to  think  that  we  have  here  no  allusion  to 
the  anonymous  play,  but  simply  a  casual  use  of  the  common  phrase  which 
served  as  its  title. 

It  it  57.  The  old  Stoic  Pherecides :  Chapman  refers  to  this  philosopher  in  his 
Gloss  to  The  Shadow  of  Night,  Poems,  p.  9.  He  was  one  of  the  oldest  of 
Greek  philosophers,  anticipating  by  several  centuries  the  sdiool  of  tha 
Stoa.  His  lost  work,  Pentemychos,  seems  to  have  bee^  a  theogony  tracing 
the  development  of  all  things  from  Zeus.  In  the  progress  of  this  evolntion 
Zeus  contended  with  and  overcame  certain  evil  forces,  amoog  whom  was 
a  secpent-god  Ophiuneus,  Ch^man's  Ophioneus,  who  was  cast  do^n  intoi 
the  under-wcrUU  There  is  a  good  account  of  the  teaching  of  Pherecydes 
in  Gomperz,  Greek  Thinkers,  1,  85,  seq. 

II»  i»  89.  Fronto  ?  A  good  one :  the  proper  name,  Fronto,  means  '  one  who^ 
has  a  broad  forehead  * ;  but  since  one  of  the  meanings  of  frons  is  '  impu- 
dence \  this  name  would  be  a  good  one  lor  such  a  rascaL 


66d  C«SAR  AND  l>OMt>EY 

n,  1,  78.    The  plover,  like  so  many  other  birds,  the  goose,  the  woodcock,  the 

ninny-hammer,  etc,  seems  to  have  served  at  one  time  as  a  type  of  foUy. 

II»  i,  70.    CoUs-foot ;  an  infusion  made  of  the  leaves  of  the  plant  of  this  name. 

In  The  Nice  VaUmr,  III,  ii,  it  is  spoken  of  as  a  beverage  popular  with  young 

men. 

n,  i,  144-6.    According  to  Rabelais,  II,  30,  Epistemon  saw  Alexander  in  hell 

'  amendmg  and  patdiing  on  clouts  upon  old  breeches  and  stockings,  whereby 

he  got  but  a  very  poor  living '.    Cfyrus  was  a  cowherd  in  hell.    The  idea 

goes  back  to  Lucian*s  Mentppus ;  but  the  union  of  the  names  Alexander 

and  Cyrus  may  show  that  Ciiapman  had  read  Rabelais,  who  tells  how 

Alexander  stole  a  crown  that  Cyrus  bad  received  as  an  alms  from  Epictetus. 

IL  it  1^1«    Roses  :  ribbons  gathered  in  a  knot  in  the  form  of  a  rose  and  worn 

on  the  shoes.    See  Johnson's  note  on  HanUet.  Ill,  ii,  288. 
n,  IL    I  think  this  scene,  in  which  a  Nuntius  after  the  fashion  of  Seneca 
r^orts  what  has  happened  off  the  stage,  may  have  been  written  as  a  sub* 
stitute  for  the  preceomg  scene.    Its  prefer  place  would  seem  to  be  at  the 
beghming  of  the  act. 
IL  iif  5-11.    '  Those  who  were  without  Rome  hurried  from  all  parts  and 
crowded  into  the  city,  and  the  inhabitants  of  Rome  hastened  to  leave 
the  city.  .  .  .    The  consuls  fled  without  even  making  the  sacrifices  which 
were  usual  before  wars  *,  Pompey,  61. 
IL  ii«  80-M.    This  long  simile  is  from  the  Iliad,  XX,  164-73 : 

As  when  the  harmful  hing  of  beasts  (sore  threat^d  to  be  slain 
By  all  the  country  up  in  arms)  at  first  mahes  coy  disdain 
Prepare  resistance,  but  at  last^  when  any  one  htUh  led 
Bola  charge  ufon  him  with  h\s  dart,  he  thsn  turns  yawning  head  : 
Feu  anger  lathers  in  his  jaws,  his  great  heart  swells,  his  stem 
Lasheth  his  strength  up,  sides  and  thighs,  waddled  with  stripes  to  learn 
Their  own  power  ;  his  eyes  glow,  he  roan,  and  in  he  leaps  to  hill. 
Secure  of  hilling. 

Chapman's  Iliad,  pp.  341-2. 

See  also  Pharsalia,  I,  205-13,  where  the  simile  b  applied  to  Qesar. 

IL  ii*  i4--M.  The  reference  is  to  Pompey's  successful  attack  on  Caesar  at 
Dyrrachium,  Pomfey,  65,  a  further  account  of  which  is  given  in  the 
succeeding  scenes. 

n,  iiif  ItHMIi  Caesar's  speech  Is  based  upon  the  reflections  ascribed  to  Caesar 
by  Plutarch  during  the  night  after  this  battle,  Casar,  39.  The  phrase, 
bearing  before  me,  vs  somewhat  obscure,  but  is  explained  bv  the  original : 
'  Considering  that  he  had  before  him  a  goodly  country,  rich  and  plentiful 
of  all  things '. 

n,  ili»  fll'TS.  This  interview  with  Vibius  is  an  instance  of  the  freedom  with 
which  Chapman  sometimes  handles  his  source.  Plutarch,  Pompey,  65, 
only  states  that  Cassar  sent  Vibius,  a  friend  of  Pompey,  with  a  proposal 
for  peace  equivalent  to  that  in  11.  61-6.  This  message  was  apparently 
sent  before  the  fight  at  Dyrrachium.  Chapman  has  invented  the  capture 
of  Vibius,  Caesar's  dismissal  of  him  without  a  ransom,  and  his  interview 
with  Pompey  in  the  next  scene. 

IL  iiif  87.  Quich  in  his  engagement :  alive  and  engaged,  or  entangled,  among 
his  enemies.  With  this  use  of  engagement,  cf.  Bussy,  V,  iv,  9,  wherr 
engt^ed  is  the  reading  of  Qi. 

IL  iiif  »HI1.  '  Caesar  said  to  his  friends  as  he  was  retiring,  "  To-^y  the 
victory  would  be  with  the  enemy,  if  they  had  a  commaxtder  who  knew 
how  to  conquer  "  ',  Ccesar,  39. 

IL  iiif  S6.    Put  on :  venture,  like  a  stake  on  the  l>oard. 

IL  iUf  tt>  Mine  own  sta^s  practice :  an  obscure  phrase,  whidi  is  the  Ught 
of  the  ooiUext  may  be  taken  as  equivalent  to  ^the  exercise  of  my  stead- 
fastness '. 

IL  ittf  86.'  Sabinus,  a  general  fa  Casar's  army.  The  name  does  not  occur 
in  this  ooonexion  in  Plutarch's  Lives,  but  in  the  De  Fortuna  Romanorum, 
6,  he  is  mentioned  as  conmiaiiding,  with  Antony,  the  forces  at  Brundusium. 


NOTES  669 

U,  ill*  llZ-4^  This  is  only  an  inflated  wav  ol  wishing  for  the  speedy  oosiing 
of  the  night  in  which  Casar  may  undertake  his  dangerous  voyage. 

Uf  !▼•  4-^  Plutarch,  Casar,  39,  gives  the  number  of  standards  taken  by 
Pompey  as  thirty-two  ;  and,  in  Pompey,  65,  the  number  of  slain  as  3,000. 
Elsewhere,  Casar,  41,  he  speaks  of  Cato's  grief  for  the  slain  :  '  After 
seeing  those  who  had  fallen  m  the  battle  to  the  number  of  a  thousand,  he 
wrapped  up  his  face  and  went  away  with  tears  in  his  eyes '. 

Uf  !▼•  Y-M.  The  speeches  of  Gabinius  and  Demetrius  represent  the  com- 
plaints made  by  Pompey's  adherents  that  he  did  not  follow  up  his  first 
success.  It  is  rather  curious  that  Chapman  did  not  make  use  of  some  of 
the  striking  sarcasms  recorded  by  Plutarch,  Casar,  41.  The  brief  speech 
of  StatiUus  seems  to  be  Chapman's  own  comment  on  the  situation.  The 
speech  of  Pompey  is  drawn  almost  verbally  from  Casar,  40. 

IX»  iv,  40-4.  Cato's  request  is  based  upon  Plutarch's  account  of  a  resolution 
of  the  Pompeian  Senate,  following  a  proposal  of  Cato»  Pompey,  65,  and 
Caio,  63.  The  latter  chapter  records  Cato's  belief  that  terms  of  recon- 
ciliation would  be  offered  oy  C»sar,  cf.  U.  50-2. 

1X9  !▼•  82-70.  Cato  did  not  depart  for  Utica  before  the  battle  of  Pharsalia, 
but  was  left  by  Pompey  in  charge  of  the  stores  at  D3aTachium,  Cato,  66. 
Chapman  has  departed  from  history  to  make  Cato  a  more  independent 
figiure.  He  has  also,  as  Kem  notes,  altered  the  attitude  of  Pompey  toward 
Cato  from  that  of  jealous  suspicion  to  one  of  absolute  confidence,  in  order 
to  exalt  the  character  of  Pompey  to  the  plane  of  Cato  himself. 

Hf  iv,  88-111.  The  interview  between  Brutus  and  Pompey  is  built  up  from 
a  brief  mention  m  Plutarch,  Pompey,  64  :  '  Brutus,  son  of  the  Brutus 
who  was  put  to  death  in  Gaul,  a  man  of  noble  spirit  who  had  never  yet 
spoken  to  Pompey  or  saluted  him  because  Pompey  had  put  his  father  to 
death,  now  took  service  under  him  as  the  liberator  of  Rome  '.  Cf.  1.  109. 
Earlier  in  the  same  chapter  Plutarch  says  that  Pompey's  cavalry,  '  the 
flower  of  the  Romans  and  Italians,  was  seven  thousand,  distinguished  by 
family  and  wealth  and  courage  '.  There  is  no  mention  of  its  being  brought 
to  him  by  Brutus ;   this  is  an  invention  of  Chapman's. 

XU  iVt  117.    This  is  the  well-known  dictum  of  Protagoras. 

1X9  iVi  180-7.  Chapman  invents  five  kings  to  represent  the  many  kings  and 
princes  who  assembled  in  Pompey's  camp,  Pompey,  64.  He  makes  a 
somewhat  curious  choice  of  names*  as  Epirus  and  Cilicia  were  at  this  time 
Roman  provinces. 

IX»  !▼,  188-48.  This  elaborate  simile  is  taken  direct  from'  Plutarch's  De  For- 
tuna  Romanofum,  4.  Chapman  has  another  version  of  it  in  Pro  Vere, 
Autumni  Lachryma,  1632  : 

O  England,  let  not  thy  old  constant  tie 

To  virtue  and  thy  English  valour  lie 

Balanced  {like  Fortune*s  faithless  brevity) 

*Twixt  two  light  wings  ;  nor  leave  eternal  Vere 

In  this  undue  plight.    But  much  rather  hear 

Arms  in  his  rescue  and  resemble  her 

Whom  long  time  thou  hast  served  {the  Paphian  Queen) 

When  {aU  ashamed  of  her  stiU-nglet  spleen) 

She  cast  away  her  glasses  and  ner  fans 

And  habits  of  tW  effeminate  Persians, 

Her  ceston  and  her  painiings  ;  and  in  g^ace 

Of  great  Lycurgus  took  to  her  embrace 

Casque,  lance^  and  shield,  and  swum  the  Spartan  flood, 

Eurotas,  to  hts  aid* 

Poems,  p.  348. 
With  1.  139  cf.  Byron's  Tragedy,  I,  i,  141-2. 
n.  !▼•  146-M.    The  tempest  described  in  these  lines  is  introduced  merely  to 
prepare  the  way  for  the  next  scene ;  hardly,  I  think,  as  an  omen  foret^ing 
the  fall  of  Pompey,  as  Kem  seems  to  take  it. 
JX,  y«    Chapman  has  added  to  the  dramatic  intensity  of  his  work  by  placing 


670 


C^SAR  AND  POMPEY 


^  Ossar's  attempt  io  cross  the  sea  to  fetch  the  rest  of  his  army  after  his 
defeat  at  Dyrrachinm.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  preceded  this  battle,  and 
is  so  described  by  Plutarch,  dgsar,  38.    The  stage  direction,  Casar  di^ 

risedy  is  from  this  chapter,  as  is  also  the  description  of  the  River  Anius, 
24-33,  and  C»sar*s  words  to  the  Master,  11.  44-5-  Chapman  wisely 
omits  the  circumstance  that  Cassar  was  after  all  farced  by  the  storm  to 
return.  On  the  other  hand,  he  puts  into  Caesar's  mouth,  IL  37-8,  a  saying 
of  Pompey*s  ia  somewhat  similar  circumstances  :  *  It  is  necessary  to  sail ; 
there  is  no  necessity  to  live  ',  Pompey,  50. 
til  V,  8-4.    Cf ,  Hymnus  in  Noctem : 

Then  like  fierce  bolts,  well  ramm'd  with  heat  and  odd 
In  Jove's  artillery. 

Poems,  p.  4, 

and  Bussy,  IV,  ii,  36-7. 

B,  V,  7-11.  These  lines  are  somewhat  obscure,  but  may,  I  think,  be  para- 
phrased thus  :  '  O  Night,  jealous  of  all  the  beauties  and  glodes  in  which 
the  gods  have  strudc  [i.e.  struck  out,  evoked]  the  four  elements  from  thy 
chaos  [i.e.  the  primeval  chaos  of  Night],  blush  that  you  drown  them  thus 
[Le.  bring  back  chaos  in  thy  storm]  in  this  hour  which  Fate  has  fore- 
ordained for  Caesar*.  With  the  use  of  digestions  and  chaos  in  1.  9,  cf. 
Revenge  of  Bussy,  V,  i,  1-3. 

m,  i,  17.  '  That  whatever  decay  has  been  brought  about  by  my  advancing 
years '. 

m,  U  86.    Cf.  The  Widhw*s  Tears,  V,  iii,  45-6  : 

Truth*  pace  is  aU  upright,  sound  everywhere. 
And,  like  a  die,  sets  ever  on  a  square, 

and  Chabot,  II,  iii,  112. 
m,  i,  88-0.    These  lines  rh3moed  in  Elizabethan  pronunciation. 
n,  C  68.    So  past  a  man :  this  phrase  modifies  served,  1.  51. 
m,  i,  89.    We  both  concluded :   the  sense  would  be  plainer,  if  we  read  were 

for  we ;   but  perhaps  the  passage  may  be  understood  as  follows  :    '  We 

[i.e.  Cssar  and  I]  both  came  to  an  agreement  in  his  free  remission  of  my 

ransom '. 
HI,  i,  70.    For  your  respect :  *  out  of  his  regard  for  you '. 
U^  U  88-4.    These  numbers  are  from  Pompey,  69,  where  Cassar^s  troops  are 

given  as  22.000,  and  Pompey's  '  somewhat  more  than  double  *.     In  GtEsar, 

42,  the  infantry  alone  is  reckoned  as  22,000  with   Cffisar,  45,000  with 

Pompey. 
in,  i,  98.    Cato  prophesied:    Pompey  is  said  to  have  remarked  this  on  an 

earlier  occasion,  when  Oesar  first  entered  Italy,  Pompey,  60.     Here  the 

reference  is  to  Cato's  words  in  II,  iv,  50-2. 
m,  i,  07-8.    A  sleight  of  some  hid  strategem :  possibly  we  should  read  a  sMgJU 

or  some,  etc. ;   but  the  passage  is  intelligible  as  it  stands. 
m,  i,  116-7.    Ward,  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature,  II,  427,  n.,  calls 

these  lines  an  ingenious  misquotation  of  Lucan  : 

Vicirix  causa  deis  piacuit,  sed  vicia  Caioni. 

Phanaha,  1,  128. 

in,  i,  110-82.  These  lines  are  from  De  Fortuna  Romanorum,  zz,  a  section 
which  Chapman  had  ahready  plundered.  See  note  on  Byron*s  Tragedy, 
V,  ii,  178-271.  The  passage  runs  as  follows  :  Nimirum  magnus  ilU  Ro- 
manorum genius,  non  ad  diem  unam  spirans,  aut  exiguo  tempore  vigens,  ui 
Macedonum ;  tuque  in  terra  tantum  poiens,  ut  Laconum ;  aut  mart,  ut 
-  Atheniensum  ;  tuque  sero  commotio,  ut  Persarum  ;  tuque  subito  sopitus,  ut 
Colophoniorum :  sed  jam  inde  a  principio  cum  urbe  adolescens,  uneique 
crescens  et  augens  remf>ublieam,  constanier  adfuit  terra  marique,  in  beUis 
et  pace,  adoersus  barbaros  et  Gracos, 

m,  ii,  8-88.  The  Soothsayer's  account  of  his  sacrifice  and  his  inference 
therefron^  is  enlarged  and  altered  from  Casar,  43. 


NOTES  671 

nip  ii,  88-C    Ci  the  parallel  passage  in  The  Tears  0/  Peace,  1609: 

But  as  Earth's  gross  and  demenial  fire 
Cannot  maintain  itself  ,  biU  doth  rehire 
Fresh  matter  sHll  to  give  U  heat  and  light  ; 
And  when  it  is  enflam*d  mounts  not  upright. 
But  struggles  in  his  lame  impure  ascent, 
Now  this  way  works,  and  then  is  that  way  bent. 
Not  able  to  aspire  to  his  true  sphere 
Where  bums  the  fire  eternal  and  sincere. 

Poems,  p.  123. 

m,  ii,  84-6.  *  There  was  seen  in  the  heavens  a  fiery  torch,  which  seemed 
to  pass  over  Caasar's  camp,  and  assmning  a  brj|^ht  and  flamelike  appear- 
ance to  fall  down  upon  the  camp  of  Pompev  \  Ctesar,  43  ;  cf.  IV,  i,  ia-13. 
This  omen  is  also  mentioned  in  Pompey,  08. 

in,  ii,  40-7.  *  At  daybreak  as  CsBsar  was  going  to  move  to  Scotussa  [a  place 
in  Thessaly  north  of  Pharsalla]  and  the  soldiers  were  engaged  in  taking 
down  the  tents  ...  the  scouts  came  with  intelligence  that  they  spied 
many  arms  in  the  enemy's  encampment  moving  backwards  and  forwards, 
and  that  there  was  a  movement  and  noise  as  of  men  coming  out  to  battle. 
After  them  others  came  announcing  that  the  vanguard  was  already  putting 
itself  in  battle  order  »,  Pompey,  68. 

in,  lit  AShlU^  This  account  of  the  panic,  alluded  to  again  In  IV,  i,  8,  is  ,from 
Casar,  43. 

m,  ii,  69-65.    This  omen  is  mentioned  in  Casar,  47. 

m,  ii,  76-82.  The  dialogue  between  Casar  and  Crassinius  occurs  in  Pompey, 
71,  and  Casar,  44,  with  slight  verbal  differences.  I  quote  from  the  latter  : 
*  CaBsar  .  .  .  said  :  **  What  hopes  have  we,  Caius  Crassinius,  and  how 
are  our  men  as  to  courage  ?  "  Crassinius  .  .  .  said  :  "  We  shall  hkve  a 
splendid  victory,  Casar ;  «nd  you  shall  praise  me  whether  I  survive  the 
day  or  die  "  '. 

III»  ii«  9&-0.  '  Casar  observing  that  the  expected  da^  had  arrived  on  which 
they  would  have  to  fight  against  men,  and  not  a^amst  hunger  and  poverty, 
quickly  gave  orders  to  hang  out  in  front  of  his  tent  the  purple  colours 
[rbv  ^oivticovy  x^"^^"^  1*6.  the  vexUlum],  which  is  the  signal  for  battle 
among  the  Romans  *,  Pompey,  68. 

m,  fl,  101-7.  CsBsar's  plan  of  battle  is  from  [Casar,  44.  The  word  battle 
in  I.  106  IS  equivalent  to  '  main  division ',  or  '  centre  ',  as  in  the  original. 

HI,  ii,  107.  The  stage  direction  in  this  line  comes  from  Pompey,  68,  imme- 
diately after  the  passap^e  cited  above. 

m,  U,  116-88.  The  allusion  is  to  the  geese  that  saved  the  Capitol  when  the 
city  of  Rome  was  held  by  the  Gauls,  Livy,  V,  47. 

IV,  L  As  Kern  has  pointed  out,  this  scene  stands  in  sharp  contrast  to 
the  first  scene  of  Act  III.  There  the  Pompey  of  Chapman's  invention, 
the  calm,  self-controlled  Stoic,  decides  quietly  and  cheerfully  to  hazard  the 
decisive  battle  with  Cassar.  Here  we  have  the  Pompey  of  Plutarch, 
driven  against  his  will  by  the  taunts  of  his  followers  to  risk  a  contest,  of 
whose  successful  issue  he  has  little  hope,  in  order  to  free  himself  of  the 
charge  of  cowardice. 

lY,  i,  19-80.  '  Rejecting  the  clear  warning  omens  of  the  gods  with  the 
nauseous  humours  of  a  rude  and  mad  mmtitude '. 

lY,  i,  81-8.  An  obscure  passage.  I  think  it  means  that  Pompey's  followers 
indulge  in  wild  anticipations  of  easy  victory  because  of  their  previous 
slight  success,  one  poor  fortune,  over  Casar*s  small  force,  few  when  com- 
pared even  with  half  his  present  army.  According  to  Chapman,  Casar's 
army  has  been  increased  since  the  first  fight  by  the  force  left  at  Brun- 
dusium. 

lY,  i,  84-8.  These  lines  are  expanded  from  a  remark  of  Plutarch,  Casar, 
39,  as  to  the  savage  temper  and  endurance  of  the  enemy,  ie.  Ossar's 
troops,  *  as  if  they  were  wd  beasts'. 

IV,  i,  87-9.     From  Pompey,  67.    Domitius  is  L.  Domitius  Ahenobarbus 
Spinther,  Lentulus  Spmther,  one  of  the  two  LerUuti  of  the  Dramatis  Per* 


672 


CiESAR  AND  POMPEY 


9(ma ;  aod  Sdplo  b  Metdlm  Sdpio,  father  of  CocneUa^  Pompey's  ^dfe. 
Umoef^  bishtf,  h  30,  is  Chapman's  rendering  of  Ponhfex  Maxwmus,  an 
office  hdd  by  Cosar  icac  many  yean. 

IV,  it  40-4.  '  Fompey  approved  of  the  i>hy6ici2n  who  never  gratifies  the 
desires  of  his  patients,  and  yet  he  yielded  to  military  advisers  who 
were^in  a  diseased  state,  through  fear  of  offending,  if  he  adopted  healing 
measures*,  Pompey,  67. 

IV,  i,  61-4.  An  obscure  passage.  The  first  clause  is  an  ejacalation,  ShaU 
I  bear,  etc,  and  is  marked  as  such  by  the  question  mark,  equivalent  to  an 
exdamatioQ  mark,  in  the  Q.  I  take  the  pnrase,  enlarge  .  .  .  self'forttmes, 
to  be  the  protasis  of  a  conditional  sentence,  meaning  *  let  the  risk  of  lives 
and  fortunes,  in  which  my  own  are  included,  be  twice  as  great '. 

IV,  i,  60.  GootL  my  lord:  Kern  holds  that  these  words  are  addressed  to 
Vibius,  but  they  are  more  probably  directed  to  Brutus,  the  natural  leader 
of  the  '  young  Patricians  \  of.  II,  iv,  92-3.  The  order  of  battle  in  these 
lines  b  £rom  Pompey.  69,  except  that  Brutus  takes  the  place  of  Domitins 
as  leader  of  the  cavalry  on  the  left  wing. 

IV,  11,  4    Cf.  note  on  IV,  iii,  7-14- 

IV,  ii»  7-11.  See  note  on  the  Argument,  p.  664.  The  charM  that  Casar  gave 
is  mentioned  in  C(3sar,  4S»  where  it  is  said  that  he  bade  his  soldiers  thrust 
their  javelins  at  the  eyes  and  faces  of  the  young  patricians. 

IV,  ii,  18.  The  death  of  Crassinius,  as  described  in  the  stave  direction  after 
this  line,  is  from  Casar,  44.  On  the  other  hand,  the  hand-to-hand  combat 
of  C»sar  and  Pompey  is  Chapman's  invention,  evidently  with  an  eye  to 
the  entertainment  of  the  audience.  This  is  one  of  the  many  proodEi 
derived  from  the  stage  directions  that  this  play  was  at  one  time  meant  for 
public  performance.  Cf.  also  the  direction  for  the  removal  of  a  corpse 
at  the  close  of  the  scene. 

IV,  £L  lO.    His  broken  eyes :  cf.  V,  i,  48~9« 

IV,  Ii,  15-80.  Casar's  speech  over  the  body  of  Crassinius  and  his  extempore 
epitaph  seem  to  be  Chapman's  invention. 

IV,  m.  The  allusion  to  a  disguise  in  the  stage  direction  at  the  beginning  of 
this  scene  is  from  Pompey,  72.  For  the  most  part,  however^  the  scene  is 
Chapman's  invention,  and  the  stoical  temper  exhibited  by  his  Pompey  in 
defeat  is  in  strong  contrast  to  the  lethargy  of  despair  described  by  Plutarch. 

IV*  iii,  7-14.  These  lines  are  built  up  on  scattered  hints  from  Plutarch.  In 
Pompey,  66,  he  says  that  after  the  battle  at  Dvrrachium  some  of  Pompey's 
followers  were  sending  their  slaves  and  friends  to  Rome  to  get  possession 
of  houses  near  the  Forum  with  the  intention  of  becoming  forthwith  can- 
didates for  office.  In  Pompey,  72,  there  is  a  description  of  the  Pompeian 
camp  which  corresponds  almost  verbally  to  Chapman's  lines. 

IV,  iii,  84.  I  take  it  tnat  in  this  line  Pompey  first  mterrupts  the  reproachfid 
speech  of  Demetrius,  and  then,  recovering  his  fortitude,  bids  him  continue. 

IV,  iii,  86-54.  The  speech  of  Demetrius  and  the  answer  of  Pompey  may 
have  been  suggested  to  Chapman  by  Plutarch's  report  of  a  conversation 
between  Pompey  and  the  philosopher,  Cratippus,  after  PharsaUa,  in 
which  Pompey  *  expressed  some  doubts  about  Providence ',  Pompey,  75. 

IV,  iT.  This  short  scene  is  mainly  built  up  from  Casar,  46  :  '  When  Casar 
saw  the  bodies  of  the  slain  and  the  slaughter  still  going  on,  he  said  with 
a  ^oan  :  "  They  would  have  it  so  ".  .  .  .  Asinius  Pollio  says  that  the 
chief  part  of  those  who  were  killed  were  slaves  .  .  .  and  that  not  more 
than  six  thousand  soldiers  fdl.  .  .  .  Casar  pardoned  many  men  of  dis- 
tinction, among  whom  was  Brutus.  .  .  .  Casar  is  said  to  have  been 
very  much  troubled  at  his  not  being  found,  but  when  Brutus,  who 
had  escaped  unhurt,  presented  himself  to  Casar,  he  was  greatly 
pleased  *. 

IV,  iv,  9.  The  obscure  phrase,  that  left  their  bloods  to  mth,  means,  I  suppose^ 
'  whose  spilled  blood  moves  you  to  pity '. 

IV,  !▼,  40-1.  '  That  it  is  not  my  fault  that  I  have  lost  the  one,  i.e.  their  love, 
nor  is  it  in  the  true  Roman  spirit  that  they  have  lost  the  other,  i.e.  their 
Uves,  inasmuch  as  they  sacrificed  them  needlessly '« 


NOTES  673 

IV,  iv,  46.  Your  father,  Caio :  i.e.  father-in-law,  as  in  IV,  i,  63.  Brutus  had 
married  Portia,  Cato's  daughter. 

IV,  ▼.  With  this  scene  the  centre  of  interest  shifts  from  Pompey  to  Cato, 
who  has  been  absent  from  the  stage  since  II,  iv.  OrganicaUy  this  scene 
should  belong  to  the  fifth  act,  which  is  mainly  devoted  to  the  death  of 
Cato,  and  the  first  scene  of  that  act,  which  concludes  the  story  of  Pompey, 
should  come  here ;  but  the  practice  of  interlacing  threads  of  interest  Is 
common  in  Elizabethan  dramaturgy. 
The  stage  direction  at  the  beginning  of  the  scene  is  from  Cato,  68. 

IVf  ▼,  16b  The  book  mentioned  in  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  was  Plato's 
Dialogue  on  the  Soul,  i.e.  the  Phaedon,  Cato,  68. 

IV,  V,  2D-86.  These  lines  are  a  mere  versification  of  the  answer  of  Cato  to 
the  Utican  senate,  who  wished  tb  supplicate  Casar  on  his  behalf  :  '  Cato 
said  .  .  .  entreaty  belonged  to  the  vanquished,  and  deprecation  of  ven- 
geance to  those  who  were  wrongdoers  ;  that  he  had  not  only  been  unvan- 
quished  all  through  life,  but  that  he  was  victorious  as  far  as  he  chose  to 
be,  and  had  the  superiority  over  Casar  in  things  honourable  and  just, 
and  that  Casar  was  the  party  who  was  captured  and  conquered,  for  what 
he  used  to  deny  that  he  was  doing  against  his  coimtry  long  ago  he  was 
now  convicted  of  and  detected  therein ',  Cato,  64. 

IV,  ▼•  89-42.  An  obscure  passage,  but  it  may  be  paraphrased  thus :  His 
[Cassar's]  parts,  which  are  so  much  admired,  are  outward  shows,  tonpie, 
show,  falsehood,  which  lead  to  bloody  death  ;  they  are  vainglory,  vUlamy, 
and,  rated  at  their  best,  they  could  be  maintained  with  what  a  truly  worthy 
man  would  cast  away  as  insignificant,  parings,  Mr.  Brereton  suggests 
that  parings  means  '^the  fragmentary  good  qualities  of  Casar,  scraps 
from  the  manhood  that  once  was  his '. 

IV,  ▼,  46.  The  long  philosophical  argument  which  begins  with  this  line  and 
goes  on  till  the  dose  of  the  scene  is  founded  on  Plutarch's  brief  report  of 
the  debate  on  the  evening  before  Cato's  suicide  :  *  After  supper  the  drink- 
ing went  on  with  much  gayety  and  enjoyment,  one  philosophical  subject 
after  another  taking  its  turn,  till  at  last  the  enquiry  came  roimd  to  the 
so-called  paradoxes  of  the  Stoics,  that  the  good  man  alone  is  free  [cf.  1.  47} 
and  that  all  the  bad  are  slaves.  Hereupon  the  Peripatetic  making  objec- 
tions. .  .  .  Cato  broke  in  with  great  vehemence,  and  with  a  loud  tone 
and  harsh  voice  maintained  his  discourse  at  great  length,  and  displayed 
wonderful  energy,  so  that  no  one  failed  to  observe  that  he  had  resolved 
to  end  his  life ',  Cato,  67.  Chapman  has,  however,  greatly  expanded  the 
argument,  and  after  putting  into  Cato's  mouth  a  genuine  stoical  defence 
of  suicide,  U.  54-66,  goes  on  to  a  statement  of  views  on  the  immortality 
and  resurrection  of  the  body  which  would  have  astounded  any  philosopher 
of  classic  times.  There  can  be  little  doubt,  I  fancy,  that  U.  90-136  embody 
Chapman's  interpretation  and  defence  of  the  dogma  of  the  resurrection. 

IV,  ▼•  67-78.  This  idea  of  the  superiority  of  the  '  just  man  '  to  the  law  made 
for  the  common  herd  is  a  commonplace  with  Chapman.  It  receives  its 
most  emphatic  statement  a  little  later  on  from  Cato,  V,  ii,  8-10. 

IV,  ▼,  106.    Full  creature:  cf.  Bussy,  V,  ii,  41,  the  reading  of  Qi.     Seep.  568. 

IV,  V,  llS-4.  The  sense  of  these  lines  may  easily  be  misunderstood  :  which 
refers  not  to  the  soul,  but  to  the  parts,  1. 112,  i.e.  soul  and  body  ;  otherwise 
means  here  '  in  the  contrary  case ',  i.e.  if  it  is  not  absolute  and  beastlike 
death  to  which  man  is  subject ;  retains  is  the  so-called  northern  plural, 
agreeing  with  its  subject,  parts, 

IV,  V,  107.  Him  that  sings :  Homer.  The  two  following  lines  are  a  condensa- 
tion of  a  passage  in  the  Iliad,  VIII,  18-26  : 

Let  down  our  gold&n  chain 
And  at  it  let  all  dsities  their  utmost  strengths  constrain 
To  draw  me  from  the  earth  to  heaven :  you  never  shall  prevail. 
Though  with  your  most  contention  ye  dare  my  state  assail,  "^ 

But  when  my  will  shall  be  disposed  to  dram  you  all  to  me, 
Even  with  the  e(frth  itself  and  se(ts  ye  shaU  enforced  be, 
'   '  Chapman's  Iliads 

C,D.W,  ^  X 


674 


CiESAR  AND  POMPEY 


Lines  Z30-6  are  a  curious  specimen  of  the  allegorixing  treatment  of 
Homer,  popular  among  scholars  of  the  Renaissance^  as  it  was  among  later 
Greek  ooounentatorsi  Chapman  gives  another  mterpretation  of  this 
passage  in  The  Shadow  of  Night,  Poems,  p.  6.  There  is  a  naive  pride  in 
the  way  Chapman  puts  into  the  mouth  ot  Athenodorus,  IL  X37-9,  an  en- 
cominm  on  Chapman*s  own  excellence  as  an  allegorizing  commentator. 

IV»  ▼»  148.  With  this  line  Chapman  drops  the  argument  and  reverts  to  his 
source.  After  having  depressed  the  company  by  his  evident  intention  of 
suicide,  Cato  attempted  to  cheer  them  up  and  divert  their  suspicions  by 
talking  on  other  subjects.    Cf.  Cato,  67. 

T»  L  This  scene  is  laid  in  the  island  of  Lesbos,  where  ComeUa  and  Sextos 
Pompey  had  been  staying  during  the  campaign  of  Pharsalia.  Chapman 
gives  her  as  attendants,  m  addition  to  her  maids  and  the  slave,  Dnisps, 
the  two  Lentuli,  who.  as  a  matter  of  fact,  only  came  to  Lesbos  along  with 
Pompey  after  Pharsalia,  Pompey,  73.  But  tms  departure  from  history,  is 
slight  in  comparison  with  other  freedoms  that  Chapman  has  here  allowed 
himself.  In  the  first  place,  in  order  to  obtain  unity  of  place  and  of  effect, 
he  places  the  murder  of  Pompey  at  Lesbos  immediately  after  his  reanioa 
witn  Cornelia  instead  of  on  the  shore  of  "Egypt.  Again  he  has  totally 
transformed  the  character  of  Cornelia.  Instead  of  the  passionate  emo- 
tional  woman,  swooning  at  the  sight  of  her  husband  and  tn-eaking  out  into 
wild  lamentations,  as  is  recorded  by  Lucan,  Pharsalia,  VIII,  50-108,  and 
Plutarch,  Pompey,  74,  he  has  made  her  a  philosophress,  1.  147,  of  the  Stoic 
school,  and  a  fit  match  for  Pompey,  as  Chapman  pictures  him  in  the  latter 
part  of  this  play. 

T»  u  7-^    That  highest  heaven,  etc. :  the  '  primum  mobile  *. 

T»  U  14*  These  liters :  '  the  pleasing  intelligence  that  she  [Cornelia]  had 
received  both  by  report  and  by  letter  had  led  her  to  hope  that  the  war 
was  temunated  near  Dyrrachium,  and  that  all  that  remained  was  for 
Pompey  to  pursue  C«sar  ',  Pompey,  74. 

T»  U  HO-^  This  passage  is  very  obscure,  and  as  it  is  punctuated  in  the  Q. 
and  in  S.  is  quite  unintelligiDle.    I  give  first  the  Q.  reading  : 

Why  write  great  learned  men  ?  men  merely  rapt 
Wifh  sacred  rage,  of  confidence,  beteefe? 
Undaunted  spirits  ?  inexorable  fate 
And  all  feare  treading  on?  *tis  aU  but  ayte, 
If  any  comfort  be,  His  in  despaire. 

I  think  if  we  consider  the  situation,  and  disregard  the  punctuation  of 
the  Q.,  we  may  arrive  at  a  fairly  satisfactory  interpretation.  Cornelia  has 
just  received  good  news  of  her  husband,  news  that  inclines  her  more  than 
ever  to  trust  the  gods,  11.  ts-g,  *  Why  *,  she  exclaims,  *  do  learned  men 
ri.e.  the  sceptical  philosophers],  rapt  with  sacred  r^igo  [i.e.  carried  away 
by  enthusiastic  conviction  of  their  own  teachings],  write  concerning  eon* 
fldenoe,  belief,  and  the  undaunted  spirits  that  trample  upon  fate  and  fear, 
that  all  these  things  are  vain  as  air,  and  that  there  is  no  comfort  save  in 
despair  [i.e.  in  absolute  negation  of  Providence] '.  I  have  repunctuated 
to  Dring  out  this  meaning.  My  friend.  Dr.  Kennedy,  suggests  another 
interpretation  :  '  Why  do  learned  men,  rapt  with  sacred  rage^  undannted 

?>irits,  treadmg  on  fate  and  fear,  write  concerning  confidence  and  belief. 
hese  are  vain  as  air ;  in  despair  alone  is  man's  true  C(»ufort '.  This  is 
a  possible  interpretation,  but  it  does  not  seem  to  me  to  suit  the  context, 
ncr  can  I  believe  that  Cornelia  in  her  present  mood  of  jo3^ul  hope  woidd 
say  that  man's  only  comfort  is  in  despair. 

Tk  i,  87-48.  Cf.  IV,  1,  34-^.  The  Phaonius  of  1.  41  is  Favonius,  *  Cato's 
ape ',  who  appears  repeatedly  in  Plutarch's  Pompey,  60,  67,  73,  althoogii 
there  is  no  mention  of  nis  having  been  a  candidate  for  office.  The  speUing, 
Phaonius,  is  found  in  North's  Plutarch. 

y»  U  W-168.  This  whole  passage  telling  of  the  meeting  of  the  dtsauised  Pom- 
pey and  his  attendant  with  Cornelia,  their  dialogue,  and  Corneua's  dieerfol 
meptm  oi  hv  husbs^id,  is  as  4ifferent  as  possil^l^  front  the  aocoqnt  in 


NOTES  675 

Plutarch,  Pompty,  74,  75.    Here,  axain.  Chapman  departs  from  hii  aoiuroe 
to  exalt  the  Stoic  fortitude  of  his  characters. 
T»  i,  179.    '  That  a  resit  or  balance,  might  remain  due  from  God  to  them  \  a 
striking  anticipation  of  the  last  lines  of  Browning's  The  Patriot: 

*  Paid  by  the  world,  what  dost  thou  owe 
Me  *  ?    God  might  question  ;  now  instead, 
*Tis  God  shall  repay :  I  am  safer  so. 

%  i,  we-a.  cf.  n,  i,  153-4. 

V»  !•  811-&  A  difficult  passage.  I  take  that,  1.  211,  as  the  subject  of  rarefies, 
1.  az3,  and  for  earthy  greatr^ess  as  equivalent  to  '  foe  the  sake  of  mundane 
greatness '. 

T»  U  817-81.  Kern  points  out  that  this  story  of  Empedodes  Is  found  in  Plu- 
tarch's De  curiosotate,  i,  Empedodes  vero  pkysicus  quodam  montis  hiaiu, 
unde  gravis  et  iftsalubris  in  pianitiem  exhalabat  ouster,  obturato,  creditus  est 
pestem  ea  regione  exclussisse.  The  same  story  reappears  in  Adversui 
Coloten,  32. 

V»  i,  MS.  The  characters  introduced  in  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  are 
the  murderers  of  Pompey  as  named  by  Plutarch,  Pomtey,  78. 

?•  i,  244.  iligypt :  ie.  Ptolemy,  the  King  of  Egypt.  His  lather,  Ptolemy 
Auletes,  had  been  restored  to  his  throne  by  Gabmios,  Pompe/s  friend,  a 
few  years  previously.    Cf.  1.  245. 

▼,  I,  868.    The  stage  direction  after  this  line  is  from  Pompey,  79. 

V*  U  869.  '  See,  heavens,  what  you  suffer  to  be  done '.  So,  at  least,  I  under- 
stand the  passage. 

Tt  I,  864.  After  the  murder  of  Pompey  his  head  was  cut  off  to  be  shown  to 
Cassar,  and  his  trunk  left  lying  on  the  shore,  Pompey,  80. 

Vt  ii«  The  last  scene  of  the  (frama  connects  logically  with  the  last  scene  of 
the  i^eceding  act.  Now  that  the  wars  of  Cassar  and  Pompey  are  over 
and  Ponipey  is  disposed  of,  Chapman's  interest  reverts  with  redoubled 
force  to  Cato,  the  true,  if  not  the  titular,  hero  of  the  play,  who  has  been 
too  long  kept  off  the  stage.  For  lofty  thought  embodied  in  noble  and 
sonorous  verse  this  scene  surpasses  all  others  in  the  play.  It  is  based, 
naturally,  upon  Plutarch's  account  of  the  last  hours  of  Cato's  life,  but 
Plutarch  supplies  only  the  framework.  Chapman,  while  on  the  whole 
following  his  source,  rearranges  or  alters  incidents  to  suit  his  own  purposes 
and  the  noble  poetry  of  Cato's  monologues,  and  of  the  speech  of  AUieno- 
dorus,  11.  70-86,  is  Chapman's  own.  llie  whole  purpose  of  the  scene  is  a 
defence,  in  dramatic  form,  of  the  thesis  which  Chapman  put  on  the  title- 
page  of  this  play  :  Orily  a  just  man  is  a  free  man,  and  this  purpose,  it  seems 
to  me,  the  poet  triumphantly  accomplishes.  Had  the  whole  play  beai 
written  in  this  vein,  it  would  have  been  worthier  at  once  of  Chapman's 
genius  and  of  his  noble  subject. 

Y,  ji,  8*  Give  it  off :  '  give  up,  renounce  my  claim  to  be  master  of  my  own 
life  and  death '.    Cf.  the  use  of  give  over  in  1.  63. 

▼»  lit  10.    Their  subjection :  the  forced  submission  of  the  outlaws  of  1.  9. 

▼•  ii,  16.    With  this  use  of  idol,  Le.  tc^oXov,  '  image ',  cf.  Bussy,  IV,  i,   16. 

¥»  tif  17-8.  To  dispose  .  .  .  rogues :  *  that  we  may  order  all  our  affairs 
according  to  the  pleasure  and  after  the  fashion  of  errant  rogues '. 

▼•  ii,  81H(.  Cato's  noticing  the  absence  of  his  sword  and  his  inquiry  as  to 
who  had  removed  it  come  from  Plutarch,  Cato,  68* 

▼,  ii*  8C    Keeps  the  store :  possesses  all  abundance. 

¥,  ii,  91-4L  Chapman  has  properly  enough  softened  down  his  source  here. 
Plutarch,  Cato,  68,  relates  that  when  the  sword  was  not  brought,  after 
some  delay  Cato  called  his  slaves  one  by  one  and  demanded  it,  and '  striking 
the  mduth  of  one  of  them  with  his  fist,  he  bruised  his  hand,  being  in  a 
great  passion,  and  calling  aloud  that  he  was  surrendered  defenceless  to 
the  enemy  by  his  son  and  his  slaves '.  The  phrase,  PU  breah  your  lips 
ope,  seems  to  be  Chapman's  intentional  substitute  for  the  blow  reoocded 
by  Plutandi. 

f;  ii,  78,    TM  mnAt^fPA.'  ie^  to  reform  the  wodd. 


676 


CiESAR  AND  POMPEY 


?,ti,88.  Pressed  to  a  Upmg  death.  Cf.  the  line  in  Bynm's  Tra^^y.  V,  rr,  58. 
repeated  in  Ths  Tears  of  Peace : 

A  slave  bound  face  to  face  to  Death  till  death. 

Poems,  p.  124. 

T,  ii*  01-100.  Cato*s  inquiry  for  Statilius  is  recorded  by  Plutarch  at  a  some 
what  earlier  period  than  here»  Goto,  66.  The  answer  given  in  Plntaich, 
namely,  that  Statilius  had  declined  to  abandon  Cato,  is  quite  differeoi 
from  that  in  the  text,  which  is  apparently  given  to  provide  a  strQdDf 
entrance  for  this  character,  a  little  later  on,  stage  direction  after  L  163. 
The  three  hundred  Romans^  1.  92,  are  the  three  hundred  Roman  merchants 
and  moneylenders  whom  Cato  had  constituted  as  a  senate  in  Utica,  Cats, 
59,  repeatedly  mentioned  by  Plutarch.  Lucius  C«sar  was  a  kinsman  d 
Ji:dius,  and  was,  no  doubt  for  this  reason,  sent  from  Utica  to  obtain  tenos 
for  the  city  after  Casar's  victory  at  Thapsus.    See  Cato,  66. 

Tf  iif  100-17.  Cato's  advice  to  his  son  is  an  expansion  of  the  brief  statement 
of  Plutarch,  Cato,  66,  that  he  forbade  his  son  to  meddle  in  political  matters, 
*  since  circumstances  no  longer  allowed  him  to  act  like  a  Cato^  and  to  act 
otherwise  was  base  \ 

Vf  ii,  100.     That  may  fit  my  freedom.    See  Text  Notes,  p.  681. 

V>  ii*  107-00.  This  speech  on  recognition  in  the  next  world  and  the  immo^ 
tality  of  the  individual  soul,  no  doubt,  expresses  Chapman's  own  opiniaBS. 

T»  li.  161-0.  '  The  sword  was  sent  in  by  a  child,  and  when  Cato  received  it 
he  drew  it  and  looked  at  it.  Seeing  that  the  point  was  entire  and  tlie 
edgepreserved,  he  said,  "  Now  I  am  my  own  master  "  *,  Cato,  70. 

V»  y,  lOi.  The  stage  direction  after  this  line  and  the  ensuing  dialogue  b 
far  as  L  172  represent  a  slight  alteration  of  the  source  on  Chapman's  pait 
fcr  the  sake  of  stage  effect.  Plutarch,  Cato,' 70,  relates  that  Cato^  '  having 
some  difficulty  in  dying,  fell  from  the  bed,  and  made  a  noise  by  overtonung 
a  little  abacus  that  stood  b^,  which  his  attendants  perceiving,  called  out 
and  his  son  and  his  friends  immediately  ran  in '. 

y,  ii,  17^7.  This  is  taken  direct  from  Cato,  70,  except  L  77,  which  is  Chap- 
man's paraphrase  of  the  Stoic  paradox,  debated  at  supper  on  the  ni^t 
before  Cato's  death,  that  the  good  man'  alone  is  free,  and  that  all  the  bad 
are  slaves. 

▼•  ii,  170-06.  CiBsar's  entry  and  speech  are  founded  on  Cato,  72  :  '  As  Casar 
made  most  account  of  Cato,  he  advanced  his  force  by  quick  mardies. 
When  he  heard  of  his  death,  it  is  reported  that  he  said  this  :  "  Cato,  I 
grudge  thee  thy  death,  since  thou  hast  grudged  me  thy  safety  " '.  CI. 
also  il.  213-4. 

T,  ii,  107.  Plutarch,  Brutus,  40,  relates  that  just  before  the  battle  of  Philippi 
Brutus  told  Cassius  that  he  had  formerly  blamed  Cato  for  killing  himsett, 
as  thinking  it  an  irreligious  act,  but  that  now  he  was  of  another  mind. 

V,  ii,  100-812.  In  order  to  round  off  his  play,  Chapman  brings  the  murderas 
of  Pompey  into  Ca»sar's  presence  at  Utica.  According  to  Plutarch,  Pom- 
pey,  80,  Ciesar  turned  away  from  the  man  who  brought  him  the  head  of 
Pompey  as  from  a  murderer.  He  put  to  death  Pothinns,  the  eunuch 
who  had  been  an  accomplice  before  the  fact  in  the  murder  of  Pompey, 
not  for  this  deed,  however,  but  because  of  a  later  oonspiracv  against  Casar. 
while  the  latter  was  in  Alexandria.  Achillas,  the  chief  01  the  mnrderen, 
was  murdered  in  the  course  of  the  Alexandrian  war.  Cf.  Casar,  49,  and 
Pompey,  80.  Chapman's  statement  that  Caosar  ordered  the  murdoers  to 
be  tortured  to  death  is  an  invention  of  his  own  to  satisfy  the  Elizabethai 
demand  for  poetical  justice. 

▼,  ii*  211.  *  Let  the  treatment  of  my  slaves  serve  as  a  precedent  '•  Fram 
this  it  would  appear  that  certain  ^aves  of  Brutus  had  been  put  to  extra- 
ordinary tortures,  which  he  suggests  as  a  precedent  for  those  to  be  inflicted 
on  the  murderers.  I  find  no  mention  of  the  torture  of  Bnitus's  slaves  in 
Plutarch. 

?,  ii,  218-24.  Caraar's  charge  to  the  Uticans  comes  from  Plntardi,  Cato,  71 
but  according  to  the  biographer  the  citizens  did  not  need  any  such  order 


NOTES 


677 


Before  CasBar  entesred  the  city  they  gave  Cato  a  splendid  funeral,  and 
interred  him  near  the  sea,  *  where  a  statue  ol  him  now  stands  with  a  sword 
in  his  hand '. 

TEXT  NOTES 

There  are  two  early  quartos  of  this  play,  both  of  the  year  1631.  The  first, 
represented  by  the  Malone  copy  at  the  Bodleian  and  by  a  copy  acquired  in 
X907  for  the  British  Museum,  has  the  title-page  :  The  Warres  of  Pompey  and 
Casar.  Out  of  whose  events  is  evicted  this  Proposition,  Only  a  just  man  is  a 
freeman.  By  G.  C.  London.  Printed  by  Thomas  Harper,  and  are  to  he  sold 
by  Godfrey  Emondson  and  Thomas  Alchome,  MDCXXxI.  The  second  has 
the  title-page :  C<Bsar  and  Pompey :  A  Roman  Tragedy,  declaring  their 
Warres,  Out  of  whose  events,  etc.,  as  in  the  former  copy,  except  that  the 
author's  name  is  given  in  full,  George  Chapman.  The  freshness  of  the  blocks 
seems  to  show  that  the  former  was  the  earlier  impression,  and  as  I  have  not 
found  any  variation  between  the  two  in  the  text,  I  take  it  that  the  title-page 
alone  was  changed  as  the  edition  was  going  through  the  press.  The  former 
is  much  the  rarer  of  the  two.  The  play  was  republished  in  1653,  with  a  title- 
page  exactly  corresponding  to  the  second  of  tne  two  forms  ahready  noted  as 
far  as  the  word  freeman,  after  whidi  it  reads  :  As  it  was  Acted  at  the  BUtch- 
Fryers.  Written  by  George  Chapman.  London.  Printed  in  the  Yeare  1653. 
By  the  true  Copie.  No  name  of  publisher  or  salesman  appears  on  the  title- 
page,  and  so  far  as  I  can  see,  this  edition  does  not  represent  a  new  imprint, 
Dut  simply  presents  the  old  sheets  bound  up  with  a  new  title-page. 

Cctsar  and  Pompey  was  next  reprinted  in  T?ie  Comedies  ana  Tragedies  of 
George  Chapman,  vol.  ill.  Pearson,  1873.  This  is  f>rofessedly  an  exact  repro- 
duction of  the  original,  but  it  contains  some  few  mistakes.  I  shall,  as  usual, 
refer  to  it  as  P. 

The  next  and,  up  to  the  present,  the  latest,  edition  is  that  of  Shepherd  in 
Chapman^s  Works — Plays.  This  is  a  modernization  of  P.,  difiering  at  times 
for  the  worse.     I  refer  to  this  edition  as  S. 

In  general  the  text  of  this  play  is  rather  troublesome.  There  are  evidences 
of  revision  and  omission,  and  a  number  of  printer's  errors,  some  of  which  I 
trust  that  I  have  been  able  to  correct.  The  play  is  divided  into  acts  only ; 
at  the  beginning  of  each  appear  the  words  Scene  I ;  but  there  is  no  further 
division,  and  naturally  no  mdication  of  place.  I  have  attempted  to  indicate 
the  natural  division  into  scenes,  and  to  indicate  the  place,  of  each.  The  list 
of  Dramatis  Personae  given  in  the  present  edition  is  the  first  ever  printed. 
In  it  I  have  given  the  correct  forms,  Sextus,  for  the  son  of  Pompey,  and  Sep- 
timius  for  his  murderer.    See  text  note  on  Act  V,  Scene  I. 


I,  i.  IS.  Q.  For  faU  of  his  ill-disposed 
Purse.  A  syllable  has  evi- 
dently dropped  out  of  the  line. 
Brereton  jioc.  ciL^  proposes  to 
read  \s6\  ul-disposed;  I  suggest 
fallings,  i.e.  '  droppings '. 

89.  I  msert  the  stage  direction 
[To  Athenodorus]. 

41-8.  In  Q.  the  parenthesis  in* 
dudes  the  words  from  for  to 
danger,  L  44.  But  it  is  plain 
that  the  phrase,  his  wife  .  .  . 
mourn,  depends  on  knew,  1.  40, 
and  belongs  outside  the  paren- 
thesis. 

88.  Possibly  we  should  read  more 
that  for  the  Q.  more  then;  but 
see  the  preceding  note  on  this 
passage,  p.  665. 


It  iL  In  the  stage  direction  before 
this  scene  I  have  substituted, 
as  throughout  the  play,  the 
modem  form  Antony  for  the  Q. 
Anthonius. 

1^  lit  1  and  4.  I  have  marked  the 
speeches  beginning  with  these 
Imes  as  asides.  The  whole  dia- 
logue as  far  as  1.  15  is,  of  course, 
an  aside  between  Casar  and 
Metellus. 
18.  Q.  Hold,  keep  oui.  Q.  assigns 
this  speech  to  i,  which  S.  ex- 
pands to  15/  Co.,  as  if  15/  Consul, 
cf.  1.  X97.  This  is,  of  coarse, 
wrong,  as  the  Consuls  are  friends 
of  Cato^  and  the  speaker  is  evi- 
dently trying  to  prevent  his 
entrance,  cf.   I,   i,,  5x-5*    1*he 


678 


CiESAR  AND  POMPEY 


Speeches  in  this  passage  assigned 
in  Q.  to  I,  2,  3,  4*  5>  «od  6  [U. 
18,  19,  20,  2^,  2$f  and  27]  are 
by  various  characters  not  pre- 
asely  designated ;  i  is  appar- 
ently one  of  the  ruffians  of  I,  i, 
51 ;  2,  one  of  the  people ;  3  is» 
perhaps,  a  senator  addressing 
the  ruffians;  4,  5,  and  6  may 
also  be  senators,  or,  perhaps, 
rather  citizens.  S.  designates 
them  all  as  1st.  2nd,  etc.,  Co. 
I  think  it  simpler  to  designate 
them  as  citiz&ns,  a  term  which 
includes  at  once  the  ruffians 
and  Cato's  friends  among  the 
people  and  Senate. 

80.  1  have  inserted  the  stage- 
direction  rising. 

110-L  Q*  includes  the  words  / 
sUw  to  soldiers  within  the  paren- 
thesis, putting  a  semicolon  after 
them. 

m.  Q.  To  take.  Perhaps  we 
should  read  You  take,  and  put  a 
period  after  his ;  but  see  pre- 
ceding note  on  this  passage, 
p.  660. 

8OL  Perhaps  we  should  read 
armies  for  Q.  armes ;  but  if  arms 
be  pronoimced  as  a  dissyllable, 
the  metre  will  be  correct. 

MB.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction,  he  snatches  the  bul, 
from  the  source,  Plutarch,  Cato, 
28. 

$18.  Come  down,  sir.  Q.  assigns 
this  speech  to  Gen. ;  but  there 
is  no  character  in  the  play  to 
whom  this  abbreviation  will 
apply.  Following  a  suggestion 
of  Mr.  Brereton,  I  take  it  to  be 
a  misprint  for  5«».,  i.e.  Senators. 
The  words  are  then  addressed 
to  CcBsar,  who  has  drawn  his 
sword  on  Cato.  The  stage  direc- 
tion ia  U.  212-3,  He  draws  and 
all  draWf  comes  in  Q.  after  the 
two  lines  into  whiui  1.  2x3  is 
there  divided;  S.  shifts  it  to 
come  after  Pompev's  words, 
thus  making  him  the  first  to 
draw.  But  it  is  plain  from  the 
context  that  Cosar  draws  first, 
and  his  *  mercenary  ruffians' 
follow  his  example. 

800.  Q.  subjed'sU  S.  alters  to 
subject  \  but  the  double  super- 
lative should  be  retained. 

868.  Q*  infteniously.  See  note  on 
Bmsy,  III,  ii,  Z07,  p.  565. 


Q.  UUm'd.  I  take  this  to 
mean  belieo'd,  Le.  tmsted  in; 
but  there  may  be  some  coinip- 
tion  in  the  text. 

88L  Q.  My  Lords  ;  S.  needlesslv 
alter  to  My  lord.  Cato  Is  ad- 
dressing both  C»sar  and  Pompey. 

887.    I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction  to  Ctesar. 
n,  i,  18.    Q.  ihinke  I  am  hnaoe.    & 
inserts  the  a  which  has  dropped 
out  before  knave. 

85-88.  Q'  prints  this  passage  as 
if  it  were  verse,  but  it  is  plainly 
prose. 

88.    Q.  i4  viUain$\    P.  misprints 

0  vfUaine. 

60.  Q.  command  the  eUmenis. 
This  is  plainlv  wrong.  We  may 
read  ^tner  i  command,  or  com- 
manding.    I  prefer  the  latter. 

74.  I  have  supplied  the  stage 
direction  aside. 

77^  Q<  as  if  there  were ;  S.  need- 
lessly alters  were  to  was. 

81-86.  This  speech  is  assigned  by 
Q.  to  Fro.    P.  misprints  Gro. 

88.    Q.  has  a  dash  [ — ]  in  this  line. 

1  take  it  that  a  cut  has  been 
made  her&  which  has  left  the 
line  imperrect. 

86-8.  Q.  prints  as  verse,  the 
lines  ending  with  profession,  coat, 
and  on.  S.  prints  the  last  two 
of  these  lines  as  one.  But  I 
think  the  passage  is  prose. 

107-17.  Q>  prints  this  passage  as 
doggrel  verse.  I  take  it  to  be 
prose.  The  same  holds  good  of 
the  following  speeches  of  Ophio- 
neus  to  the  dose  of  the  scene. 

154-6.  Q.  Though  thou ;  P.  mis- 
prints Thou  thou. 
IX,  11,11.  Q.  bloody  frights.  P^haps 
we  should  read  sights,  fiMs,  or 
rites  for  frights ;  but  I  have 
preferred  to  let  the  text  stand. 

48.    After  this  line  I  have  inserted 

Exit   NunHus,    and   marked  a 

new  scene. 

n,  iii,  1-8.    Q.  Crass.  Stay  cowherd, 

fly  ye  Cmsar's  fortunes  ? 

Cas.    Forbeare,   foolish    Crassi- 

nius,  we  contend  in  vaim. 
Context  and  metre  show  that 
we  should  read  cowards  and 
transpose  foolish  from  I.  2  to  1 1. 
.  Q.  CounsaHes.  S.  prints 
counsels ;  but  I  think  the  sense 
demands  councils,  ie.  of  war. 
So  also  in  L  42. 


NOTES 


679 


68.    Q.  'Tis  offerd.  Sir,  *bov0  ihs 

foU*    S.  emends  abovi* 
78.    This  prepares.    Q.  prints  as 

the  first  words  of  the  next  line. 
106.    Q.  what  suspection.    For  this 
very  doubtfol  word   I  suggest 
suspect,  a  noun  used  elsewhere 
by  Chapman  {GentUman  Ushsr, 
Iv,  iv»  103),  which  also  restores 
the  metre. 
110-8L    The  passage  as  punctuated 
in  Q.  is  voy  confusing : 
Th^r  stay  is  worth  their  ruine, 

should  we  live, 
If  they  in  fauU  were  ?  if  their 

leader/  he 
Should  dye  the  deaths  of  all  ; 
S.  retains  the  question  mark  in 
1.  in,  but  this  merely  indicates 
an  exclamation,   and,   like  the 
exclamation  mark  in  the  same 
line,  is  meant  to  give  emphasis 
to  the  passage* 
US.    After   eM   Q.    has   only   a 
comma. 
XL  iv*  64.    Q.  Lost  no;   so  S. ;   but 
it  seems  clear  that  we  should 
read  Lose  no, 
68.    After   this   line   I   have  in- 
serted the  stage  direction,  going. 
76.    I  have  inserted  to  Athenodorus 
to  make  it  plain  whom  Pompey 
is  addressing. 
86.    In    the    stage    direction    Q. 

misprints  Sat.  for  Sta. 
X64.    Q.  ingenious.    Cf.  note  on 
I,  il,  258,  above. 
II»  ▼•  60.    Q.   were  all,  yet  more? 
As  in  11^  iii,  in,  the  question 
mark  merely  denotes  emphasis. 
So  in  1.  40  Q.  has  ntaster  ? 
M.    Q.  fraight.    S.  prints  straight, 
but  I  think  it  is  a  mere  variant 
for  freight, 
QL  i,  18.    Q.  as  the  time  encrease. 
Read  increased.    Chapman  pro- 
bably wrote  encreast,  nrom  whidi 
the  misprint  of  the  Q.  would  be 
easy. 
80.    Q.   we  both  concluded.    Per- 
haps we  should  read  were  bo^ ; 
but  see  note  above,  p.  670. 
80-1.    Come  .  .  .  mucn.    Q.    and 
P.  print  these  words  as  one  line. 
P.  and  S.  omit  mucK  following 
some  copies  of  Q.  [^Malone,  241, 
and  Brit.  Mus.,  C.   12,  ^.    5}. 
But   the  word   appears  m   all 
other  copies  that  I  have  seen, 

1  One  ofthe  copies  at  the  Bodleian. 


and  is  evidently  required  by  the 

context. 
88.    P.  misprints  Tom.  for  Pom 
^jpey]. 
86.    Q.  gives  the  first  part  of  this 

line  to  Omn[es] ;  but  it  is  plain 

that  Brutus  does  not  join  with 

the  Consuls  in  these  wcrds. 
88.    Q.    Of    some   hid.    Perhaps 

we  should  read    Or  some.    In 

some  copies  of  Q.  the  /  is  faint ; 

in  ^  Malone,  164,  it  is  wanting. 
188.    Q.  crown'd.    So  P.  and  S. ; 

but  the  context  seems  to  require 

crown  to  correspond  with  drown 

in  L  136. 
m,  li,  76.    Q.  in  an  spirii.    P.  and 

S.  print  any,  which  is,  no  doubt, 

rignt. 
80.    Q.  assigns  this  line  to  Anth, 

P.  misprints  Cnth,  and  S.  alters 

to  Cr[assinius]. 
101.    I   have  inserted  the  stage 

direction  To  Antony. 
108.    Q.   A   blest    even.    P.   mJs- 

rts  O  blesL 
Q.    fowles.     P.      misprints 
/owles,  and  S.  alters  to  souls ; 
but  see  note  above,  p.  671. 
187.    Q.    blest   means.    S.    need- 
lessly alters  to  best. 
IV.  U  W.    Q.  ruder;    S.  emends, 
metris  causa,  to  rude. 
48.    After  patients  Q.  has  a  ques- 
tion   mark,    but   the  clause  is 
not  interrogative;  who,    1.    41, 
refers  to  Pompey.    See  note,  p. 
672,  above. 
68.    After  self-fortunes  Q.  has  a 
question  mark,  but  this  seems 
plainly  an  error,  perhaps  caught 
from   the   question  mark  after 
own,  1.  S2,  which  I  have  alteKd 
to  an  exclamation  mark. 
iy»  lit  4.    Q.  puts  a  question  mark 
after   showed,    but    this   makes 
nonsense  of  the  sentence. 
87.    Q.    soule    of    funeral;     the 
emendation  scroll,  i.e.  'inscrip- 
tion,' I  think  makes  sense  of  an 
otherwise  unintelligible  passage. 
IV»  111,  89.    Q.  puts  a  question  mark 
after    ruiwd;     but    it    plainly 
belongs  after  detraction,  1.  31. 
84.    Q.  puts  a  question  mark  after 
you,  but  I  think  a  dash  is  better, 
as  Pompey  interrupts  this  speedi. 
67-8.    Q.    puts    question    marks 
after  own,  1.  67,  me,  1.  6S,  and 
acceptance,  1.  69.    Only  the  last 
is  needed. 


68o 


CESAR  AND  POMPEY 


84.  Q*  acuptedj  S.  emends  ex- 
cepted, which  is  plainly  right. 

90.  Something  seems  to  have 
dropped  out  of  this  line. 
lY,  iv,  9.  The  copy  in  the  Advocates* 
Library,  Edmburgh,  has  blood-, 
all  others  bloods,  which  I  have 
therefore  retained. 

14    Q.  Of  aU  slaine,  yet,  if  Brutus 

only  liv'd.    S.  cancels  the  comma 

after  yet;    I  think  it  better  to 

cancel  the  comma  after  slaine. 

IV»v,128.    Q.  Holds  their  proportion. 

P.  misprints  Holds  thts» 
F,  L  In  the  stage  direction  at  the 
beginning  of  this  scene  Q.  has 
Septimius.  S.  retains  this,  but 
I  have  altered  to  Sextus  as  the 
context  shows  that  this  is  the 
son  of  Pompey,  not  his  mur- 
derer. The  latter  enters  after 
1.  243  where  Q.  has  Enter  Achil- 
las, SepHus,  Septius  is  an  evi- 
dent abbreviation  for  Septimius, 
and  I  have  made  the  necessary 
alteration.  It  is  not  at  all 
likely  that  such  a  scholar  as 
Chapman  confused  Sextus  Pom- 
pey  with  Septimius  the  murderer. 

6»    After  full  Q.  has  a  period. 

18.  Q.  making,  an  evident  mis- 
print for  waking,  which  P. 
prints. 

48.  In  this  line  Q.  has  the  stage 
direction  Septimtus  [read  Sextus] 
with  a  letter.  This  does  not 
indicate  an  entrance,  but  only 
that  Sextus  comes  forward  and 
joins  in  the  dialogue. 

6L  Q.  Lost  in:  so  S.  But  I 
think  we  should  read  Left,  Le. 
'  left  off,  broke  off '. 

67.  After  this  line  I  have  in- 
serted the  stage  direction  Enter 
a  Sentinel.  S.  does  not  note 
this  entry,  and  assigns  the 
speeches  in  U.  6o,  63-4,  etc,  to 

'  Se.,  the  same  abbreviation  that 
he  uses  for  Sextus,  thus  making 
a  confusion  which  does  not  exist 
in  the  Q.,  which  assigns  them 
to  Sen. 

7S.  Q.  yeL  So  S. ;  but  I  feel 
sure  yet  is  B,  misprint  for  that, 
probably  written  yL 

79.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  I  have  inserted  the  word 
disguised. 

89-8.  Q.  prints  as  verse,  the  lines 
ending  the,  comming,  and  letters. 

84-6.    Q.  prints  as  verse,  th«  lines 


ending    seemes,    by    their,    and 
husband. 

94.  Augurs,  madam  .  .  .  aUas. 
P.  prints  these  words  in  italics 
They  are  roman  in  Q. 

180-1.  P.  wrongly  assigns  this 
speech  to  Corinelta].  In  L  zao  S. 
reads  possess  for  Q.  profess,  an 
error  which  has  crept  into  this 
text. 

1(9.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction.  Revealing  himself. 

161-5.  These  lines  of  regular 
verse  are  printed  as  prose  by  S. 

178*  Before  ever  Brereton  would 
insert  hath.  This  seems  to  me 
unnecessary ;  more  may  be  pro- 
nounced as  a  dissyllable. 

196-7.  Q-  has  a  comma  after 
quiet,  and  a  semicoloa  after 
farre.  I  think  the  sense  de- 
mands a  transposition  of  these 
points. 

811-4.  Something  may  have  been 
lost  in  1.  211.  After  piecemeal, 
1.  212,  Q.  has  a  period.  I  pre- 
fer a  comma,  taking  for  as  a 
preposition.  See  note,  p.  675 
above. 

944.  Instead  of  Achlillas]  as  in 
Q.,  P.  prints  Arch,  as  the  name 
of  the  speaker. 

866.  I  have  inserted  the  sta^ 
direction.  Exeunt,  etc,  after  this 
line. 

859.  Q.  prints  Su  heavens  wfw 
sufferings.  This  is  inteJligiWr, 
but  I  think  the  context  shows 
that  Pompey  is  appealing  to  the 
heavens,  and  I  have  punctuated 
accordingly. 

865.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
djitctiaa,  Exeunt  Murderers  with 
Pompey,  after  this  line. 
▼,  ii,  46.  Following  Dr.  Kem*s  sug- 
gestion, I  have  altered  the  name 
m  the  stage  direction  after  this 
line  from  Q.  Brutus  to  Butas. 
See  Colo,  yo ;  so  also  in  U.  59, 
162,  I73i  178- 

180-1.  Q.  Have  I  ever  showne  Loves 
least  defect  to  you  ?  or  any  dues. 
The  question  mark  after  you 
destroys  the  connexion,  since 
dues  is  in  the  possessive  plural 
after  defect. 

187.  Q.  assigns  this  speech  to 
Por[tius].  P.  misprints  Cor., 
and  S.  abbreviates  Co.  I  have 
inserted  the  stage  direction  in 
this  line. 


NOTES 


68i 


ItO.  Q.  that  may  fit.  Perhaps 
we  sEould  read  that  may  1st,  Le. 
hinder. 

151.  Q.  Lay  downe,  S.  emends 
Lay*i  [i.e.  the  sword]  down,  I 
doubt  a  this  is  necessary. 

168.  Q.  receive  her  heaven.  So 
S.,  but  plainly  Cato  is  invoking 
heaven  to  receive  her^  i.e.  his 
soul. 

177.    I  have  inserted  the  stage 

direction  Dies. 
181.    Q.    are   hasted.    P.    blasted, 

which  is,  no  doubt,  correct. 

188.  In  the  stage  direction  alter 
this  line  Q.  has  AchUius,  S. 
reads  Acilius,  confusing  the 
soldier  of  C«sar  with  the  mur- 
derer of  Pompey,  Achillas. 

189.  I  have  inserted  thru  after 
AU  to  show  that  it  is  the  three 
murderers  who  kneel. 


18»-e.    Q. 

to  torture 
Them  with  instant  rapture. 

Evidently  something  has  been 
lost  before  Them.  Brereton  sug- 
gests Bear.  I  think  the  word 
with  may  have  originally  begun 
the  line,  and  have  been  struck 
out  by  a  proof  reader  who  took 
it  for  an  anticipation  of  the 
with  before  instant. 

801.  Q.  gives  the  words  cruel 
Casar  to  Omn[es].  I  read 
Omnes  ^,  as  in  1.  i^6. 

808.  It  is  just  possible  that  the 
phrase  Hale  them  out  which  is 
pnnted  as  a  stage-direction  may 
have  been  meant  as  a  speech. 
It  occurs  in  Q.  in  the  middle  of 
the  line,  but  m  italics,  so  that  it 
is  probably  a  stage  direction, 
and  I  have  accordingly  trans- 
ferred it  to  the  margin. 


ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

INTRODUCTION 

Alphonsus  Emperor  of  Germany  was  published  in  1654,  twenty 
years  after  Chapman's  death,  with  the  following  title-page :  The 
Tragedy  of  Alphonsus  Emperor  of  Germany.  As  it  hath  been  very 
often  Acted  (with  great  applause)  at  the  Privat  house  in  Black- 
Friers  by  his  late  Majesties  Servants.  By  George  Chapman  Gent. 
L*ondon,  Printed  for  Humphrey  Moseley,^  and  are  to  sold  at  his  Shopp 
at  the  Princes- Aims  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard  1654.  It  is  prob- 
ably to  be  identified  with  a  play,  Alfonso,  performed  at  Blackiriars 
before  Queen  Henrietta  Maria  and  the  Prince  Elector,  i.e.  Charles 
Lewis  of  the  Palatinate,  son  of  Elizabeth,  the  '  Winter  Queen  ',  on  May 
5,  1636,  mentioned  in  a  list  of  plays  extracted  from  the  Books  of 
Enrollments  by  Cunningham.'  This  performance  was  almost  two 
years  after  Chapman's  death,  and  can  have  no  bearing  on  the  author- 
ship of  the  play,  as  Cunningham's  statement  that  Alfonso  was  by 
Chapman  is  not  supjported  by  anything  in  the  list  he  prints,  but  sunply 
expresses  his  own  identification  of  the  play  with  tnat  published  by 
Moseley  as  a  work  of  Chapman's. 

In  the  age  of  the  Restoration  this  play,  so  lately  printed,  seems  to 
have  attracted  some  attention.  Langbcune  '  assigns  it  to  Chapn^an ; 
Winstanley  *  to  Peele  ;  Anthony  k  Wood,'  with  a  fine  impartiality 
to  both  Peele  and  Chapman.  The  attribution  of  this  play  to  Peele  by 
Winstanley  and  Wood  has,  perhaps,  more  value  than  has  usually  been 
ascribed  to  it.    From  Langbaine's  statement,*  '  I  am  not  ignonuit 

*  For  Moseley's  activity  as  a  publisher,  see  Massoo,  Life  of  MiUon,  voL  vi 
400-4011.  His  enthusiasm  for  the  drama  seems  to  have  outrun  his  discrimina- 
tion, for  he  attributed  the  anonymous  Merry  Devil  of  Edmonion  to  Shake- 
speare (entry  in  S.R.,  September  9,  1653),  Massinger's  Parliament  of  Love  to 
William  Rowley  (entry  in  S.R.,  June  39,  1660),  and  The  FaUhfnl  Friends  to 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  an  ascription  rejected  by  all  critics  but  Oiipbant. 
Further,  he  ascribes  to  Shakespeare  in  collaboration  with  Davenport  a  play. 
Henry  I  and  Henry  U  (entry  of  1653),  doubtless  the  same  as  the  Henry  I 
licensed  ei^ht  years  after  Shakespeare's  death  by  Herbert  as  a  play  of  Daven- 
port's, April  10, 1624  {Variorum  Shakespeare,  vol.  iii,  229,  where  Malone  speaks 
in  a  footnote  of  Moseley  as  a  fraudulent  bookseller),  and  to  Shakespeare  alone 
three  lost  plays,  iphis  and  lanthe,  Duke  Humphrey,  and  King  Stephen.  It 
looks  very  much  as  if  Moseley  were  read^  to  put  the  name  of  a  famous  poet 
on  the  title-page  of  a  play  with  but  little  inquiry  as  to  the  authenticity  of  the 
work,  and  in  view  of  this  we  can  give  but  little  weight  to  his  ascription  of 
Althonsus  to  Chapman. 

"  Printed  in  his  Extracts  from  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  Shakespeare 
Society,  voL  vii,  p.  xziv. 
'  Account  of  the  English  Dramatic  Poets,  pp.  59  and  401. 

*  Lives  of  ike  Most  Famous  EngUsh  Poets,  p.  97. 

>  Aihenae  Oxonienses,  under  the  lives  of  Peele  and  Chapman  respectively. 

*  Op»  tUnt  p.  401. 

en 


684   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

that  .  .  .  Alphonsus  is  ascribed  to  him  [Peele]  in  fonner  catalogues. 
[i.e.  bookseller's  lists  of  plays  printed  or  in  MS.]  which  has  occasioo'd 
Mr.  Winstanley's  mistake  ;  but  I  assure  my  reader  that  that  play  was 
writ  by  Chapman,  for  I  have  it  by  me  with  his  name  affixt  to  it ',  two 
things  are  dear,  first  that  a  tradition,  certainly  older  than  the  publica- 
tion of  the  play  in  1654,  ascribed  the  play  to  Peele,  secondly  that  the 
only  authority  for  Langbaine's  positive  assertion  of  Chapman's  author- 
ship was  the  title-page  of  Moseley's  edition.  If  we  consider  the  rdative 
fame  of  Chapman  and  Peele  at  the  time  of  the  publication  of  the  play, 
we  shall,  I  think,  be  inclined  to  lean  rather  toward  the  tradition  than 
toward  Moseley's  ascription.  Peele  had  so  nearly  vanished  into 
oblivion  that  Phillips  ^  could  speak  of  him  as  '  a  somewhat  antiquated 
English  Bard  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  date,  some  remains  of  whose  pretty 
pastotal  poetry  we  have  extant  in  a  collection  called  England's  Heii- 
con  *  :  whereas  Chapman,  teste  the  same  Phillips,  still  ranked  as  *  not 
the  meanest  of  English  poets  of  that  time  ',  i.e.  of  the  age  of  Elizabeth. 
There  can  have  been  no  ulterior  motive  for  the  tradition  ;  the  motive 
which  induced  Moseley  to  put  Chapman's  name  on  the  title-page  of 
Alphonsus  was,  no  doubt,  the  same  as  that  which  led  him  to  ascribe 
the  Merry  Devil  to  ShaMespeaxe,  the  desire  to  set  ofE  an  anonymous  play 
with  the  name  of  a  famous  playwright. 

After  Langbaine  the  play  seems  to  have  been  completely  forgotten 
for  a  century  and  a  half.  It  was  not  included  in  any  of  the  collec- 
tions of  old  plays,  and  was  apparently  unknown  even  to  sndi 
an  inde&tigable  student  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  as  '  Lamb.  It 
was  Elze's  edition,  Leipzig,  1867,  with  its  elaborate  introduce 
tion  that  first  brought  Alphonsus  before  the  modem  reader.  Elze's 
interest  lay  naturally  enough  in  the  '  wonderfully  accurate  know, 
ledge  of  the  political  organization  of  the  German  Empire  and 
.  .  .  the  details  which  vividly  pourtray  the  public  and  domestic 
life  of  Germany '.  He  takes  Chapman's  authorship  for  granted, 
though  he  beUeves  the  poet  must  have  been  aided  by  a  German 
friend  or  one  of  the  comedians  who  had  performed  in  Germany, 
and  asserts  that  '  the  play  is  written  throughout  in  Chapman's  well- 
known  manner ',  This  statement  can  only  be  answered  by  a  complete 
and  peremptory  denial.  Alphonsus  is  not  written  throughout  in  Chap- 
man's manner,  nor  are  there  any  detached  scenes  or  isdiated  passages 
which  in  any  way  recall  his  manner.  The  student  of  Chapman's  works 
is  confronted  on  almost  every  page  with  Chapman's  fondness  for  cer- 
tain ideas,  similes,  and  turns  of  phrase.  I  have  already  drawn  atten- 
tion to  numbers  of  these  in  the  notes  on  the  preceding  plays  in  this 
volume.  This  trick  of  repetition  makes  it  easy  to  identify  the  work 
of  Chapman ;  it  is  by  this,  in  large  part,  that  the  anonymous  Sir  Giles 
Goosecap  '  has  been  assigned  to  him.  In  Alphonsus  1  have  not  been 
able  to  find  a  single  parallel  to  a  passage  in  one  of  Chapman's  undis- 
puted works.    There  may  be,  although  personally  I  cannot  believe  it 

*  Theatrum  Poetarum,  1675,  P-  zvii. 

*  The  anonymous  author  of  an  article  in  the  Retrospective  Reviem  in  182 1 
(vol.  iv,  p.  381)  must  have  read  Alphonsus,  He  speaks  of  it  as  *  a  bloody  and 
clumsy  production ',  but  was  discriminating  enough  to  note  what  no  one 
teems  to  have  done  before  him,  that  it  was  *  entirely  divested  of  the  descrip- 
tive and  didactic  poetry  which  so  often  graces  the  [other]  plays '. 

s  The  Authorship  of  Sir  Giles  Goosecap,  Modem  Philol^,vol  fv,  pp.  45-37 


INTRODUCTION  685 

a  bare  possibility  that  Alphonsus  is  a  work  of  Chapman's  youth, ^ 

*  written  before  he  had  found  his  own  tragic  style  ',  ot  the  product  of 
his  old  age,'  '  when  the  fire  of  his  imagination  had  cooled  and  left  him 
calm  and  collected  for  the  arrangement  of  the  business  and  incidents 
of  the  drama ' ;  but  either  hypothesis  must  be  defended  by  other 
arguments  than  those  of  styUstic  resemblance  to  Chapman's  undoubted 
work,  and  such  arguments,  apart  from  the  ascription  of  the  play  to 
Chapman  by  its  first  publisher,  I  have  as  yet  been  quite  unable  to  dis- 
cover. In  fact,  in  recent  years  there  has  been,  with  hardly  an  exception, 
a  general  consensus  that  the  play  is  spurious.  Herford'  confesses  to 
'  grave  doubts  whether  it  was  Chapman's  work ' ;  Fleay  ^  ascribes  it 
to  Peele ;  Koeppel  ^  produces  strong  internal  evidence  against  the 
authorship  of  Chapman  ;  Ward  *  suggests  that  Chapman's  share  may 
have  been  limited  to  a  revision  of  a  play  originally  composed  by  a 
German  writer — ^a  view  for  which  I  see  no  evidence  ;  Boas  '   finds  it 

*  hard  to  believe  that  Chapman  had  a  hand  in  it ' ;  Robertson  '  holds 
that  the  play  '  can  be  shown  to  be  almost  certainly,  in  large  part, 
Peele's ' ;  and  finally  Schelling,*  while  rejecting  the  ascription  of  the 
play  to  Peele,  believes  that  it  is  unwisely  attributed  to  Chapman  and 
that  its  authorship  is  indeterminable. 

Of  all  these  writers,  Professor  Koeppel  alone  gives  a  tangible  reason 
for  his  disbelief  in  Chapman's  authorship.  He  points  out  first  that 
not  only  is  no  source  known  for  this  play,  but  also  that  the  remarkable 
license  with  which  the  playwright  handles  a  well-known  period  of 
history  implies  the  probable  absence  of  any  source,  points  to  a  free 
play  of  invention  on  his  part,  and  stands  in  sharp  contrast  to  Chap- 
man's dose  adherence  to  the  sources  of  his  tragedies.  Of  the  truth  of 
this  last  statement  the  notes  and  introductions  to  the  preceding  plays 
in  this  volume  have  given  abundant  evidence.  Barring  Bussy  D'Am- 
bois,^^  for  which  no  source  has  yet  been  discovered,  Chapman's  method 
in  tragedy  is  to  choose  some  historic  theme  capable  of  tragic  treatment, 
to  transfer  it  from  the  narrative  m  which  he  found  it  to  the  dramatic 
form,  retaining  many  of  the  details  and  often  much  of  the  diction  of 
his  original,  making  few  alterations  in  the  order  or  sequence  of  events, 
and  these  few  always  for  a  plainly  discernible  dramatic  purpose.  In 
spite  of  his  disclaimer  in  the  Dedication  to  the  Revenge  of  Bussy  that 
a  poet  is  not  bound  to  preserve  the  historical  truth.  Chapman  never 
departs  far  from  his  source.  His  original  contribution  to  the  tragedies 
is  to  be  found  in  the  philosophic  conception  which  underlies  and  directs 
his  treatment  of  the  borrowed  plots,  in  his  grandiose  presentation  of 
certain  striking  incidents,  such  as  the  death  of  Byron,  and  most  of  all 

^  Ward,  English  Dramatic  Literature,  vol  ii,  p.  428. 

■  Retrospective  Review,  iv,  337,  followed  by  Elze.  p.  36  and  apparently 
by  Swinburne,  Chapman's  Works — Poems,  p.  xlix,  and  Stoll,  John  Webster, 
pp.  94,  213. 

»  Literary  Relations  of  England  and  Germany,  p.  172,  n. 

*  Biog.  Chron,,  voL  ii,  p.  156. 

»  Loe,  cU.,  p.  78.  «  Op,  cit,,  vol.  ii,  428. 

1  Boas,  Bussy  D^Atnbois,  p.  viii. 

s  Did  Shakespeare  write  TUus  Andronicus,  p.  126. 
>  9  Elisabethan  Drama,  voL  i,  136,  228,  437. 

^^  Even  in  Bussy  it  is  not  unlikely  that  for  the  main  outline  of  the  story 
Chapman  followed  some  unknown  source.;  his  account  of  Bussy's  betrayal 
and  death  is  in  the  main  the  same  as  that  given  by  later  historians. 


696   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

in  the  highly  imaginative  and  didactic  verse  with  which  he  iUustiatet 
and  comments  upon  the  story. 

How  does  it  stand  with  Alphonsus,  and  how  faa  has  the  anthar  d 
this  tragedy  preserved  the  truth  of  history'?  A  brief  outline  of  the 
plot  will  make  this  clear.  Alphonsus  of  Castile,  i.e.  Alphonso  X,  the 
Wise,  married  to  Isabella,  daughter  of  King  John  of  England,  has 
been  elected  Emperor  of  Germany.  His  rule  has  been  mailed  by 
t5rranny  and  bloodshed  to  such  a  degree  that  ^  four  of  the  seven  Electon 
have  decided  to  depose  him,  and  have  invited  his  brother-in-law, 
Richard  of  Cornwall,  to  come  to  Germany  to  take  the  throne.  The 
position  of  Alphonsus  is  critical  in  the  extreme,  since  a  majority  of  the 
Electoral  College  wishes  to  depose  him,  and  the  remaining  three  are 
by  no  means  warm  friends.  He  succeeds,  however,  in  bribing  the 
Elector  of  Ment2  to  propose  to  the  College  that,  instead  of  electing 
Richard,  one  of  their  own  number  be  elected  as  joint  Emperor  with 
Alphonsus.  In  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  irreconcilables,  the  Pala- 
tine and  the  Duke  of  Saxony,  this  suggestion  is  accepted,  and  the 
King  of  Bohemia  is  installed  as  partner  with  Alphonsus.  The  latter, 
however,  has  only  accepted  this  arrangement  as  a  device  to  gain  time, 
and  at  once  begins  a  series  of  machinations  which  lead  to  the  death  of 
his  partner,  of  the  Palatine,  and  of  his  tool,  Mentz.  He  wins  over  the 
Duke  of  Saxony,  who  defeats  Richard  in  a  pitched  battle  and  takes 
him  prisoner,  but  at  the  very  moment  of  his  trhimph  Alphonsns  is 
murdered  by  his  accomplioe  in  these  plots,  Alexander  of  Cyprus,  where- 
upon Richard  is  set  free  and  formally  installed  as  Emperor.  In  addi- 
tion  we  have  a  sub-plot  dealing  with  the  adventures  of  Edward,  Prince 
ol  Wales,  later  Edwaxd  I,  who  comes  to  Germany  with  his  uncle, 
ntarries  Hedwig  of  Saxony,  loses  his  bride  through  the  machinations  of 
Alphonsus,  falb  into  the  latter's  hands,  and  is  in  danger  of  death, 
only  to^  be  freed  at  the  last  moment  by  the  sudden  death  of  tiie 
tyrant.* 

A  few  words  will  demonstrate  the  extraordinary  liberties  which  the 
play-wright  has  taken  with  the  facts  of  history.  Alphonso  X  did  not 
marry  Isabella  of  England,  but  a  Spanish  princess.  Although  elected 
Emperor  bv  a  minority  of  the  College,  he  never  came  to  Germany,  bat 
contented  himself  with  attempting  to  secure  the  imperial  possessions 
in  Italy.  He  was  not  a  tyrant,  but  a  wise  and  just  ruler.  He  did  not 
perish  by  the  hands  of  an  assassin,  but  outlived  his  rival,  Richard, 
and  resigned  his  claims  upon  the  Empire  after  the  election  of  Rudolf 
of  Hapsburg.  The  relative  positions  of  the  Electors  to  the  rivals  are 
quite  distorted  by  the  playwright.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Electors 
of  Saxony,  Brandenburg,  and  Trier  supported  Alphonso  from  the  be- 
ginning ;  while  the  Electors  of  the  Psklatinate,  Mentc,  and  Cologne 
supported  Richard.  The  King  of  Bohemia,  who  himself  aspired  to 
the  Empire,  held  sdoof  at  first,  and  actually  voted  by  proxy  for  both 
candidates,  but  later  acknowledged  Richard.  He  never  occupied  the 
position  of  joint  Emperor  assigned  to  him  in  the  play,  was  not  poisoned 
by  Alphonso,  but  was  slain  in  1278  at  the  battie  of  the  Maichfield  by 
Rudolf  of  Hapsburg.    Mentz,  instead  of  deserting  Richard,  was  his 

^  There  seems  a  slight  contradiction  between  tlie  ^eech  of  Alphonsus.  I, 
i,  1^19,  and  the  statement  of  Richard  that  he  was  invited  to  Germany  with 
the  consent  of  all  the  Electors,  11,  i,  12-14 ;  but  this  is  probably  due  to  tht 
carelessness  of  the  playwrights 


INTRODUCTION  687 

iidthfttl  and  consistent  supporter.  As  regards  the  sab-plot^  Edward  I 
was  never  in  Germany,  and  did  not  marry  a  German  princess,  but  as 
his  first  wife,  Eleanor  of  Castile,  sister  ol  the  Alphonso  who  is  painted 
so  black  in  this  play,  and  as  his  second  a  French  princess.  The  play- 
wright seems  to  have  confused  him  with  his  cousin,  Henry  of  Almadn, 
son  of  Richard,  who  accompanied  his  father  to  Germany  and  attended 
his  coronation  at  Aachen,  but  Henry  did  not  marry  a  Gennan  pcincess* 
bat  Constance  of  Beam. 

The  motive  that  lay  at  the  back  of  all  this  wild  distortion  of  the 
facts  of  history  is  plain  enough  to  the  student  of  Elizabethan  literature. 
It  is  the  fierce  anti-Spanish  and  anti-Papal  prejudice  that  burnt  so 
hotly  in  England  from  a  few  years  before  the  coming  of  the  Armada 
till  some  time  after  the  death  of  Elizabeth.  To  an  Englishman  steeped 
in  this  prejudice  the  mere  ^t  that  a  Spanisxd  had  once  been  the  rival 
of  an  Englishman  for  the  Imperial  throne  was  enough  to  warrant  the 
assumption  that  the  Spaniard  was  a  villain  of  the  blackest  dye,  a  per- 
jurer, a  poisoner,  a  stabber,  in  short,  the  perfect  Machiavellian ;  and 
the  picture  of  Alphonsus  in  this  play  has  been  drawn  in  perfect  con- 
fovmity  with  this  prejudice.  Now  it  is  a  fact  of  some  significance  in 
detemuning  the  authorship  of  Alphonsus  that  Chapman,  among  the 
older  Elizabethan  dramatists,  was  notably  free  from  this  prejudice. 
A  staunch  patriot,  the  friend  of  Raleigh,  the  eulogist  of  Vere,  he  never 
shows,  even  in  such  poems  as  De  Guiana  and  Pro  V&re  where  the  very 
subject  would  seem  to  invite  it,  this  common  anti-Spanish,  anti-Papal 
animus.  On  the  contrary,  the  apology  for  the  Duke  of  Guise  and  the 
eulogy  of  PhiHp  II  which  he  puts  into  the  mouths  of  Clermont  and 
Byion  ^.  respectively  show,  at  the  very  least,  that  he  possessed  the 
faculty^  rare  enough  at  all  times,  naturally  and  notably  raxe  in  his 
age,  of  seeing  both  sides  of  a  great  wozld-struggle.  To  me,  at  least,  it 
is  quite  incredible  that  Chapman  should  have  drawn  such  a  hateful 
caricature  of  Alphonso  X,  poet,  scholar,  and  legislator,  as  appears  in 
Alphonsus  Emperor  of  Germany,  There  was,  on  the  other  hsuad,  one 
dramatist  of  Chapman's  day  whose  hatred  of  all  things  Spanish  carried 
him  beyond  the  bounds  of  truth  or  decency.  George  Peele,  who  did 
not  hesitate  to  slander  the  fair  fame  of  the  good  Queen  Eleanor,  would 
not  have  scrupled  for  a  moment  to  pervert  the  character  of  Alphonso^ 

Koeppel's  second  argument  against  Chapman's  authonhip  of  this 
play  is  on  the  basis  of  dramatic  style.  He  points  out  with  indisputable 
truth  that  in  the  genuine  plays  of  Chapman,  '  the  poetical  tone,  the 
poet's  wealth  of  words,  ideas,  and  imageiy  overloads  and  hinders  the 
development  of  the  action ;  the  action  is,  in  fact,  ot  secondary  interest 
to  Chapman.  The  dialogue  is  his  main  concern.  In.  both  the  doubtful 
tiagedaes  [i.c.  Alphonsus  and  Revenue  for  Honourl  the  dramatist,  or 
nuuer  the  play^wiight,  intent  upon  stage  efiects  and  coups  de  tkSMre^ 
pushes  the  poet  into  tiie  background.  The  action  of  the  play  is  his 
chief  concern,  not  the  poetical  decocatioii  of  the  dialogue  \  It  would 
hardly  be  too  much  to  say,  i  think,  that  Chapmajn  was  a  moml  and 
philosophic  poet  who  wxdte  tta^edies  because  the  drama  was  the  most 
popidaoDand  paying  fpim  o£  literature  in  his  day,  and  that  the  author 
o£  AtpkofiSUs'^vrBJA  by.  insthict  atkl  training-  a  playwright  who.  wrote  in 
verse  nnply  because^  biaiik  veiae  had  become  since  Bfariodre's^  6ky.  tiie 

^  See  ttmm^  of  Bmsui^  l\  i,.  3oo-334»  and  The  Tragedy  of  Byrofki  l^%\k 


688   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

accepted  and  conventioiial  vehicle  for  serious  drama.  Certainly  the 
author  of  Alphonsus  was  not  impelled  by  any  inner  necessity,  as  we 
may  imagine  to  have  been  the  case  with  Marlowe,  Shakespeare,  and 
Chapman,  to  express  himself  in  this  noblest  of  English  metres.  He 
is  one  of  the  most  prosaic  of  Elizabethan  dramatists.  I  have  as  an 
editor  read  and  re-read  Alphonsus  much  oftener  than  the  inherent 
value  of  the  play  could  justify,  and,  with  the  exception  of  an  isolated 
line  or  phrase,  I  think  it  would  be  difficult  to  point  out  a  single  passage 
of  pure  poetry  except  the  simile  put  into  the  mouth  of  Edward  in  the 
ast  act: 

Let  guilty  minds  tremble  at  sight  of  death  ; 
My  heart  is  of  the  nainte  of  the  palm, 
Not  to  he  brohen,  till  the  highest  bud 
Be  bent  and  tied  ufUo  the  lamest  toot. 

V,  i,  i37-^«a 

If  we  compare  such  a  simile  as  this,  .the  highwater  mark  of  the  author 
of  Alphonsus,  with,  for  example,  the  elaborate  figure  of  the  home- 
coming ship  in  the  first  speech  of  Bussy,  I,  i,  20-33,  ^'^  sh^  see  how 
gravely  Elze  erred  in  saying  that  this  play  was  written  in  Chapman's 
well-known  style. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  prosaic  author  is  a  play-wright  of  no  mean 
merit.  Alphonsus  is  not,  of  course,  a  tragedy  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word ;  it  is  crude,  superficial,  and  notably  devoid  of  characterization 
or  internal  struggle  ;  but  it  has  many  of  the  merits  of  first-class  melo- 
drama, an  interesting  story  clearly  told,  vigorous  dialogue,  tTiHllmg 
climaxes,  and  a  catastrophe  at  once  surprising,  overwhelming  and 
wholly  satisfactory  to  the  popular  demand  for  '  poetic  justice  '.  It  is 
impossible  to  determine  accurately  the  date  of  Alphonsus,  but  it  must 
certainly  have  been  written  many  years  before  the  performanoe  of 
1636.  The  style  of  the  blank  verse,  the  choice  of  subject,  and  the 
dramatic  treatment,  all  point  back  to  a  time  not  much  later  than  the 
epoch-making  work  of  ]^^lowe.  Now  if  we  compare  Alphonsus,  as,  to 
obtain  a  true  conception  of  its  merits  as  well  as  defects,  we  should  do, 
with  the  tragedies  signed  or  unsigned  of  that  period,  with  Locrine,  SeU- 
mus,  the  Battle  of  Alcaxar,  and  The  Wounds  of  Civil  War,  we  shall  feel,  I 
believe,  that  its  author  had  a  stronger  grip  upon  the  fundamental 
principles  of  playwriting  than  most  of  his  contemporaries.  And  if  we 
compare  it  with  the  most  vigorous  of  Chapman's  tragedies,  the  most 
casual  reading  will  ^ow  that  it  is  as  superior  to  Bussy  D'Ambois  in  all 
the  qualities  that  go  to  ms^e  an  efEective  melodrama  as  it  is  inferior 
to  it  in  depth  of  tibought  and  nobility  of  expression. 

It  seems  to  me,  then,  that  a  negative  is  easily  proved  and  that,  on 
thte  basis  of  Professor  Koeppel's  arguments,  weaie  justified  in  declaring 
that  Alphonsus  is  not  and  cannot  be  the  work  of  Chapman.  To  prove 
an  affinnative  and  assign  with  any  degree  of  positiveness  this  play  to 
any  known  author,  is  another  and  more  difficult  task. 

The  only  other  name  than  Chapman's  viiich  has  been  connected 
with  Alphonsus  is  that  of  Peele.  And  there  is,  I  beUeve,  something 
to  be  said  for  Peele's  authorship  of  the  play.  In  the  first  place  the 
tradition  which  ascribed  it  to  hun  is,  as  I  have  already  said,  of  mors 
value  than  the  publisher's  assignment  of  the  play  to  Chapman.  In 
the  second  place  the  fierce  prejudice  of  the  play  corresponds  more 
closely  to  Peele's  own  anti-Spanish  animus  tituuci  to  that  ca  any  other 


^  INTRODUCTION  689 

possible  author.  Mr.  Robertson,^  has  made  a  vigorous  attempt 
to  demonstrate  Peele's  authorship.  He  points  out  that  the  archaic 
endings,  such  as  ion  [i.e.  the  dissolution  of  such  terminations 
as  ton,  ean,  etc.,  into  two  syllables]  are  in  the  normal  style  of 
Peele's  plays  and  of  his  period,  and  that  the  classical  allusions  '  are 
in  the  same  case.  This  goes  to  show  what  I  firmly  believe,  namely, 
that  the  play  was  originally  composed  at  the  time  when  Marlowe, 
Greene,  Kyd,  and  Peele  dominated  the  stage,  i.e.  nearly  fifty  years 
before  its  one  recorded  performance ;  but  it  does  not  distinctly  assign 
it  to  Peele. 

Further,  Robertson  calls  attention  to  the  presence  in  this  play  of  '  a 
score  of  Peele's  favourite  or  special  words»  such  as  Emperess,  grattUate, 
policy,  sacred,  solemniied,  suspect  (noun),  underbear,  and  zodiac.  To 
these  I  might  add  a  few  others  such  as,etnpery,  unpartial,  and  exclaims 
(noun).  I  must  confess,  however,  that  I  look  with  much  doubt  upon 
the  argument  from  diction.  Until  we  have  concordances  for  all  the 
Elizabethan  dramatists,  as  we  have  for  Shakespeare  and  for  Kyd,^ 
it  is  dangerous  to  describe  any  words  as  the  '  £ivourite  or  special ' 
words  of  one  author.  Empery,  for  example,  which  occurs  three  times 
in  Aiphonsus  aild  four  times  in  Peele's  undoubted  work,  is  found  also 
in  Byron* s  Conspiracy  and  Casar  and  Pompey  ;  gratulate'-^  is  found  in 
Bussy.  Underbear  is  found  in  King  John,  underbearing  and  underbome 
in  Richard  II  and  Much  Ado.  All  I  have  been  able  to  learn  from  a 
careful  study  of  the  diction  of  Aiphonsus  is  that  it  is  archaic,  including, 
for  example,  such  forms  as  for  to  and  for  why  (the  latter  of  which  occurs 
lour  times  in  Peele,  the  former,  I  think,  only  once),  and  on  the  whole 
much  more  nearly  resembles  Peele's  usage  than  Chapman's.  Hardly 
of  more  importance  are  a  pair  of  phrases  common  to  Peele  and  Aiphon- 
sus :  bloody  banquet  {Alph,,  V,  i,  39  ;  Battle  of  Alcazar,  IV,  i,  6)  and  vital 
blood  [Alph,,  V»  i,  37  ;  David  and  Bersabe,  sc.  ii,  45,  sc.  iii,  14),  though 
there  are  two  instances,  pointed  out  in  the  notes  on  III,  i,  337,  359, 
where  Aiphonsus  seems  plainly  to  echo  in  rhythm  and  diction  a  line  of 
Peele's.  Finally  such  repetitions  as  are  noted  in  V,  i,  18 1-3  and  V, 
i,  1 92-6  are,  to  say  the  least,  akin  to  Peele's  manner.  It  is  worth  noting 
that  these  phrases  and  these  echoes  and  these  repetitions  occur  close 
together  in  Aiphonsus,  possibly  indicating  old  sections  of  the  play  left 
untouched  by  a  later  reviser. 

On  the  other  hand,  some  of  the  most  striking  features  of  Peele's 
work  are  noticeably  absent  in  Aiphonsus,  Robertson  himself  remarks 
that  it  runs  strikingly  less  to  alliteration  than  David  and  Bersabe  or 
The  Battle  of  Alc€uar.  He  accounts  for  this  on  the  ground  of  its  being 
a  later  work.  But  in  Peele's  poems  Descensus  Astrea,  1591,  Honour 
of  the  Garter,  1593,  and  Anglorum  Feria,  1595,  all  of  later  date  than 

*  Op.  cU.  pp.  123-131. 

s  Certainly  the  classical  allusions  are  not  in  the  least  in  Chapman's  manner. 
They  consist  mainly  in  a  parade  of  proper  names  from  Greek  and  Roman 
history  and  mythology :  Atd,  Athamas,  Menoetiades,  Phalaris,  Rhadamanth, 
etc.,  whereas  Chapman,  as  I  have  shown  elsewhere  {The  Nation,  New  York, 
April  15,  Z909),  makes  large  draughts  on  his  favourite  classic  authors  for 
sentiments,  similes,  etc. 

*  Crawford's  Concordance  to  Kyd  in  MaterioHen  xur  Kunde  des  SUeren 
Englischen  Dramas  is  now  complete, 

*  Also  in  three  plays  representing  three  different  periods  of  Shakespeare's 
work,  Richard  III,  Henry  V,  and  CymbeHine. 

C.D.W.  yjy 


690   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

any  of  his  known'plays,  we  find  enough  instances  of  alliteiatioii  to  asson 
08  that  Peele  did  not  abandon  this  trick  as  he  grew  older.  I  cite  a 
lew  oases  at  random : 

Guarded  wiih  graces  and  wiih  gracious  trains, 

Dese,  Ast^  22. 
Graced  by  a  King  and  favoured  of  Ms  feres. 
Famed  by  his  foUowers, 

Gmier,  X04-5. 
Lead  England^ s  lovely  shepherds  in  a  donee 
O'er  hill  and  dale,  and  downs  and  daisy-plots. 

AngL  Fer.,  44-5. 

Moreover,  the  rhythm  of  the  verse  in  Alphonsus  seems  to  me,  in  the 
main^  distinctly  different  from  that  of  Peele.  It  is  less  moootoooiis, 
and  makes  a  ft-eer  use  of  doable  endings.'  It  lacks  Peele's  peculiar 
bombast,  his  trick  of  bolstering  out  a  line  with  swelling  epithets.  It 
lacks  also  one  of  Peele's  peculiar  charms,  the  Ijnical  note,  which  sip- 

SiATS  not  only  in  his  lighter  work,  but  abo  in  such  chronicle  plays  as 
avid  and  Bersabe  and  Edward  7.  The  dialogue  is,  for  the  moat  part, 
livelier  and  more  realistic — ^in  a  word,  the  diak^e  of  a  dramatist  rather 
than  of  a  poet.  And  this  brings  me  to  the  last  and,  I  think,  the  strong- 
est argument  against  Peele  as  the  '  substantial  author ',  to  bonow 
Robertson's  phrase,  of  Alphonsus  as  it  now  stands.  I  have  already 
spoken  of  the  comparative  excellence  in  plot  and  structure  of  this 
piay ;  it  occupies,  considered  from  this  aspect  and  from  this  alone,  a 
place  among  its  contemporaries  not  far  behind  the  masterpieces  ol 
liarlowe  and  of  Kyd.  But  Peele  has,  I  should  say,  less  sense  of  plot 
and  structure  in  his  serious  work  than  any  playwright  of  his  day.  No 
play  of  the  time  is  emptier  of  context  than  the  Botffe,  less  coherent 
than  Edward  7,  more  clumsily  arranged  than  David  and  Bersabe,  Fresh 
from  a  reading  of  Peele,  undertaken  with  the  special  view  of  comparing 
his  style  and  method  with  that  of  Alphonsus,  I  can  only  say  that  it 
seems  to  me  incredible  that  he  should  ever  have  attained  such  power 
of  dramatic  handling  of  a  subject  as  this  play  shows. 

What,  then,  is  to  be  our  conclusion  as  to  Peelers  authorship  of  Al- 
phonsus ?  For  it  we  have  the  old  tradition,  the  presence  of  his  spedal 
anti-Spanish  animus,  and  a  certain  similarity  of  diction,  combined 
with  a  few  cases  of  pronounced  echoes  or  imitations.  Against  it  we 
have  the  absence  of  some  of  his  special  characteristics  and  the  presence 
of  a  power  of  dramatic  composition  to  which  he  can  lay  no  claim.  The 
most  that  we  can  grant  Peele  is,  I  think,  to  admit  the  possibility  that 
he,  perhaps  in  collaboration  with  another  author,  composed  an 
old  play  on  this  subject,  which  has  been  subjected  to  so  thoroagh  a 
revision  as  to  leave  only  a  few  traces  of  his  hand. 

At  what  date  such  a  revision  was  undertaken  and  by  whom  it  was 
performed  are  questions  to  which  with  our  present  knowledge  we  can 
return  no  satis&ctory  answers.  I  venture,  however,  on  a  suggestion 
which  may  perhaps  serve  as  a  working  hypothesis  for  future  investiga- 
tion.    Alphonsus  is  unique  among  Elixabethan  plays  for  the  knowledge 

'  Robertson,  pp.  192,  198,  notes  that  the  first  act  of  Alphonsus,  which  he 
confesses  cannot  be  wholly  Peele*8  work,  has  about  15  per  cent,  of  double 
endings  as  compared  with  7  per  cent,  and  6  per  cent,  in  the  first  acts  of  David 
and  Bersabe  and  the  Battle  respectively.  Such  a  partial  comparison  is  not, 
of  coiprse,  decisive,  ba(  it  adds  force  to  my  assertun^. 


INTRODUCTION  691 

it  reveals  of  Gennan  life  and  inaaBeis,  and  for  its  frequent  and^  idioma- 
tic  use  of  the  German  language.  Not  only  are  characters  introduced 
who  speak  nothing  but  German,  but  German  words  and  phrases  ar6 
sprinkled  plentifully  throughout  the  dialogue.  I  cannot  believe  with 
Robertson,  pp.  130-1,  that  an  actor  who  had  travelled  in  Germany 
for  some  time,  like  Pope  or  Bryan  of  Shakespeare's  company,  could 
have  acquired  any  such  familiarity  with  German  life  or  any  such  com- 
mand of  the  German  language.  I  would  rather  hold  with  Ehee  that 
the  evidence  points  to  a  collaborator  of  German  birth  and  education. 
And  such  a  collaborator,  not  in  the  original  composition  of  the  play, 
but  in  the  revision  which  I  have  assumed,  might,  I  beheve,  be  nmnd 
in  the  person  of  Rudolf  Weckherlin.^ 

Bom  in  1 584  of  a  respectable  family  in  Wflrtemburg,  Weckherlin 
studied  law  at  T&bingen,  and  spent  some  three  years  in  England  bew 
tween  1607  and  16 14,  where  he  came  to  know  such  men  of  letters  as 
Daniel,  Sylvester,  and  Sir  Henry  Wotton.  He  married  an  English 
■lady,  and  shortly  before  1624  settled  permanently  in  England,  where 
for  over  sixteen  years  he  served  as  an  under  secretary  of  state.  He  is 
known  to  have  spent  the  summer  of  1636  at  Court,  and  it  is  characteris- 
tic of  his  busy  and  officious  disposition  that  it  was  said  of  him  that 
like  Bottom  he  wished  to  play  Pyramus,  Thisbe,  and  the  Lion  all  at 
once.  He  composed  verses  not  only  in  German,  but  in  French  and 
English,  an  ode  dating  from  161 8  has  German,  English,  French,  and 
Latin  strophes.  His  German  poems  have  been  reprinted  in  the  Biblio^ 
theh  des  Litterarischen  Vereins,  vols.  199-200,  but  of  his  English  verse 
only  a  translation  of  some  German  songs  has  been  preserved,  although 
a  pageant  in  honour  of  Lord  Hay  was  extant  in  MS.  as  late  as  1845. 
We  have  therefore  little  material  by  which  to  judge  Weckherlin's 
mastery  of  English  verse,  but  he  may  well  be  presumed  from  his  long 
residence,  marriage,  and  occupation  in  England  to  have  been  thor- 
oughly conversant  with  our  language.  Is  there  an3rthing  incredible 
in  the  supposition  that  in  1636  Weckherlin,  desirous  of  treating  his 
countryman,  the  Elector  Palatine,  to  a  theatrical  performance  by  the 
King's  Players  dealing  with  a  theme  chosen  from  the  history  of  their 
common  fatherland  and  marked  by  an  anti-Spanish  spirit  which  the 
son  of  Frederick  of  Bohemia  could  not  choose  but  share,  should  have 
hit  upon  the  old  play  of  AlphonsuSy  which  he  may  perhaps  have  seen 
during  his  first  visit  to  England  ?  In  his  hands  alone,  or,  more  likely 
in  collaboration  with  some  playwright  of  the  day,  this  play  would  then 
have  undergone  the  revision  which  has  given  it  its  present  form.  Hie 
presence  of  a  German  like  Weckherlin  at  the  revising  playwright's 
elbow  would  easily  account  for  the  marked  German  colour  of  the  play, 
and  Weckherlin  was  certainly  capable  of  writing'  the  German  dialogue. 

There  are,  moreover,  one  or  two  small  bits  of  evidence  which  seem 
to  me  to  point  to  Weckherlin  in  this  connexion.  One  of  these  is  the 
fact  pointed  out  by  Elze,  p.  27,  that  the  boors,  Hans  and  Jerick,  speak 
a  Low  German  dialect  akin  to  that  used  by  the  servants  and  clowns 
in  the  plays  ofHeinrich  Julius,  Duke  of  Brunswick.'    No  English 

^  Weckherlin  has  been  already  suggested  as  a  possible  collaborator  by 
Ward,  English  DranuUic  LUeratute,  vol.  ii,  p.  428,  n.  I  have  done  little  more 
than  follow  out  his  suggestion. 

'  Heinrich  Julius  of  Brunswick,  1564-1613,  was  the  author  of  eleven  plays^ 
aU  dated  in  the  eariy  nineties  and  showing  marked  English  in^u^ce. 


Ufi       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

author  of  ifae  tune,  however  thorough  his  knowledge  of  German,  can 
be  supposed  at  all  likely  to  observe  such  a  fine  distinction  as  to  make 
his  courtiers  talk  High  German  and  his  peasants  the  conventional 
Low  German  assigned  to  such  r61es  by  the  Duke  of  Brunswick.  Bat 
this  is  exactly  the  sort  of  a  thing  that  a  somewhat  pedantic  Gennan 
.of  Weckherlin's  type  might  be  expected  to  do. 

FurUier,  the  word  scherghin,  which  occurs  in  IV,  iii,  70  in  the  sense 
of  '  darling '  is  apparently  unknown  in  Gennan ;  it  is  not,  at  any  rate, 
recorded  in  Grimm's  Worterbuch.  But  we  do  find  there  the  corre- 
sponding South  German  form,  scherzUin  or  schertzeUin,  and  the  sole 
example  given  of  the  use  of  this  word  in  this  sense  is  taken  from  a 
poem  by  Weckherlin.  Would  not  the  substitution  of  the  North 
German  diminutive  -kin  (for  -chen),  to  suit  the  speaker,  a  North 
German  princess,  be  a  piece  of  pedantry  exactly  akin  to  the  imitation 
of  Duke  Julius  noted  above  ? 

Eke  has,  to  be  sure,  attempted  to  anticipate  such  a  hypothesis  as 
I  have  suggested,  by  the  statement,  p.  32,  that '  the  Gennan  elements 
are  so  inseparably  blended  with  the  plot  and  character  of  the  tragedy 
that  they  must  necessarily  be  considered  of  simultaneous  growth  with 
the  play  itself ',  and  not  a  later  addition.  It  is  difficult  to  judge  how 
much  weight  should  be  attached  to  such  a  statement.  For  myself  1 
believe  that  it  is  possible  to  conceive  an  Ur-Aipkonsus  which,  while 
detaining  the  main  outline  of  the  plot,  should  be  almost  entirely  lacking 
in  the  German  elements  which,  naturally  enough,  seemed  to  EUe  the 
most  important  and  interesting  things  in  the  play. 

The  only  other  objection  that  I  can  see  is  that  the  diction  and  metre 
of  the  play  are  remarkably  archaic  for  any  such  thorough  revisicm  as 
I  have  suggested  about  the  year  1636.  But  the  origiiud  play  is,  as 
has  been  said,  much  older,  and  the  reviser  may  have  preferred,  quite 
properly,  to  retain  the  old  style  rather  than  to  tack  on  purple  patches 
in  the  manner  of  Fletcher  or  Massinger.  It  is  merely  a  question  of 
the  thoroughness  of  the  revision  and  of  the  influence  of  the  Gennan 
collaborator  upon  the  final  and  present  form  of  the  play. 

I  cannot  avoid  the  feeling  that  this  is  a  somewhat  lame  and  impo- 
ttot  conclusion  to  the  hours  of  study  spent  upon  this  play.  The  only 
certainty  that  I  can  offer  the  reader  is  a  negative,  that  Chapman  does 
not  appear  to  have  had  any  connexion  with  its  composition.  For  a 
positive  conclusion  I  can  only  submit  a  hjrpothesis  which,  though  it 
seems  plausible  to  me,  may  offer  more  points  of  attack  than  I  am  at 
present  aware  of.  I  shall  feel,  however,  that  I  have  done  something 
tor  our  knowledge  of  Elizabethan  drama,  if  this  hypothesis  leads  to 
further  investigation  of  the  origin  of  a  unique  and  from  the  historicsl 
point  of  view  peculiarly  Interesting  play,  and,  perhaps,  in  the  end  to  a 
final  settlement  of  the  long  debated  problems  it  has  suggested. 


■i 


I 


.  ^ 


ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

NOTES 

Dramatis  PsRSONiB 

Alphonsiis  :  Alpbonso  X  of  Castile,  titular  Emperor  of  The  Holy  Roman 
£]m>ire,  I257-73' 

Ibe  Sue  of  Bohemia  :  ^  Ottocar  II,  KSbm  of  Bohemia,  1953-78. 

Blihcv  of  Uenii :  Archbishop  Gerhard  of  Mainz. 

Biahop  of  CtoUen  :  Conrad  von  Hochstaden,  Archbishop  of  Cologne. 

Biaho^  of  Trior :  Arnold  von  Isenburg,  Archbishop  of  Trier. 

Palatiiie  of  tho  Bhein :  Ludwig  II  of  Bavaria,  County  Palatine,  a  leader 
of  the  Hohenstauffen  partv  in  Germany,  and  a  supporter  of  Richard. 

Doko  of  Saxon :  Albrecnt  I,  Duke  of  Sacbsen- Wittenberg.  ' 

Xaraneis  of  Brandenburg.  The  Margraviate  of  Brandenburg  was,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  shared  at  this  time  by  two  brothers,  Johan  I  and  Otto  III. 
The  latter  was  himself  suggested  as  a  candidate  for  the  Empire  before  the 
elections  of  Richard  and  Alphonso,  but  declined  the  honour. 

Prinoe  Edward  :  the  eldest  son  of  Henry  III,  later  Edward  I. 

Bicliard :  Richard  of  Cornwall,  younger  brother  of  Henry  III,  and 
Emperor  from  1257-^2. 

Lorenio  de  Oy^hu.:    an  imaginary  character,  as  is  his  son,  Alexander. 

Iiabella :  dau^ter  of  John  of  England,  actually  tho  third  wife  of  the 
Emperor  Fredenc  II,  Stupor  Mtmdu 

Hsdawiok :  an  imaginary  character.  No  German  princess  was  ever  mar- 
ried to  Edward  I. 

Jeriok  :  i-e.  J5rig,  or  J  org,  the  Low  German  form  of  George. 

I»  i»  A.  Hot  at  hand :  quick  at  the  beginning.  See  Nov  English  Dicttonary, 
$ub  Hand,  25  c,  and  cf .  a  similar  phrase  in  Julius  Casar,  IV,  11,  23,  usually 
misinterpreted  by  the  editors. 

I»  I,  68.  The  word  ahft  in  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  probably  indicates 
that  the  bed  of  Lorenzo  was  placed  in  the  balcony  overhanging  the  staffe. 

I»  !•  68.  Una  arbusta  .  .  .  erithacos :  a  proverb  going  back  as  far  as  tne 
scholia  on  Aristophanes,  Wasps,  hQ22  :     ov  rftd^i  fiU  Xoxm  <vo  ifuBaxovt. 

It  U  100-108.  As  Meyer  has  pointed  out  (MachiaveUi  and  The  Elizabethan 
Drama,  p.  134),  this  maxim  is  taken  directly  from  Gentilet's  summary  of 
the  principles  of  MachiaveUi  in  his  Discours  sur  les  Moyens  de  bien  gou^ 
vemer  .  .  .  Contre  Nicholas  Machiavel,  1576.  The  twelfth  maxim  of  thi; 
third  part  of  Gentilet,  as  given  by  Meyer,  p.  12,  reads :  '  Le  Prince  doit 
ensuyure  la  nature  du  Lyon,  et  au  Renard :  non  de  Tun  sans  Tautre  *. 
This  is  derived  from  //  Principe,  chap,  xviii :  Essendo  adunque  un  prin- 
ctpe  necessitato  sapere  bene  usare  la  bestia,  debbe  di  ^uella  pigliare  la 
-  volpe  ed  il  leone ;  perchd  il  leone  non  si  difende  dai  laca,  la  volpe  non  si 
difende  da'  lupi.  Bisogna  adunque  essere  volpe  a  conoscere  i  lacci,  e 
lione  a  sbigotttre  i  lupL  Coloro  che  stanno  semplicemente  in  sul  lione 
non  se  ne  intendono :  '  A  Prince  then  being  necessitated  to  know  how  to 
make  use  of  that  part  belonging  to  a  beast,  ought  to  serve  himself  of  the 

^  Th«  proper  namet  given  to  the  aavea  Electors  by  the  dramatist  in  I,  ii,  z-40  axe  his  aim 
nyc&tte    I  have  here  given  the  real  nanes  of  the  Blectcn  in  the  year  1357. 

fta  • 


694        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

oonditions  of  the  Fox  and  the  Uon ;  for  the  Lion  cannot  keep  himsdf 
from  snazes,  nor  the  Fox  defend  himself  against  the  Wolves.  He  had 
need  then  be  a  Fox,  that  he  may  beware  of  the  snares,  and  a  Uod  that 
he  may  scare  the  wolves.  Those  that  stand  wholly  upon  the  Lion,  mider- 
stand  not  well  themselves' — translation  of  Dacres,  1640  (Tudor  Trmu* 
kUions,  vol.  xxxix,  pp.  521-2).  The  original  of  this  passage  appears  to  be 
Plutarch,  Lysander.  vii,  s  :  *  Lysander  said,  **  When  the  lion's  skin  will 
not  serve,  we  must  help  it  with  the  case  of  a  fox  " '.  A  dose  parallel  to  the 
comment  of  Alphonsus  on  this  maxim,  11.  X03-7,  occurs  in  the  anoaymous 
play  SsUmus,  15941  11.  2733-4  • 

/  Uke  Lysander* s  coumsl  i}assing  wett; 
,  '  //  that  I  cannot  spud  vfiih  UoWs  force, 

To  clothe  my  complots  in  a  fox*s  skin '. 

With  the  second  maxim,  11.  109-11,  we  may  compare  Gentilet  B,  1 
(Meyer,  p.  zo) :  '  Un  prince,  sur  toutes  choses,  dolt  appeter  d'estre  estim^ 
devot,  bien  qu'il  ne  le  soit  pas  '.  Cf .  also  Gentilet,  C,  21  (Mejrer,  p.  is) : 
'  Le  Prince  prudent  ne  doit  observer  la  foy,  quand  robeervatioQ  lay  en 
est  dommageable,  et  que  les  occasions  qui  la  luy  ont  talt  promettre  aont 
passees  *. 

With  the  third,  11.  zz7-8,  cf.  Gentilet,  C.  6  (Meyer,  p^  12) :  *  C*est  folie 
de  penser  que  nouveaux  ■  piaisirs  f acent  oubUer  vieilles  oSttaces  aux  grands 
Seigneurs  *.  This  goes  back  to  II  Principe,  chap,  vii,  last  sentence  but 
one  :  '  Whoever  believes  that  with  great  personages  new  benefits  blot  on 
[sic]  the  remembrance  of  old  injuries  is  much  deodv'd '  {Tudor  TrmnsU' 
tions,  p.  288). 

With  the  fourth  maxim,  l.z  57,  cf.  Gentilet^  C.  9  (Meyer,  p.  xa) :  '  Mieux 
vaut  ii  un  Prince  d'estre  craint  qu'aim6 ',  a  distortion  of  MachiaveDi*sstat» 
ment,  Pr^ipe,  xvii,  that  it  is  much  safer  to  be  feared  than  to  be  loved.  The 
form  in  the  play  is  evidently  nearer  the  original  than  it  is  to  Gentilet. 

The  fifth  maxim,  11.  162-4,  i$  &  liberal  expansion  of  Gentilet,  C  18 
(Meyer,  p.  Z2) : '  Le  Prince  ne  doit  craindre  de  se  perjurer,  tromper  et  dis- 
simuler :  carle  trompeur  trouve  tousiours  qui  se  laisse  tromper^.  Meyer 
remarks,  p.  z^d^  that  the  poison,  murder,  and  all  hind  of  viUaniss,  of  our 
text  show  the  mfluence  of  Marlowe — in  his  tremendous,  but  wilfully 
distorted,  embodiment  of  Machiavellismin  Barabas — ^andof  the  subsequent 
dramatic  tradition. 

Of  the  sixth  maxim,  1. 173,  Meyer^  p.  x^6,  remarks  :  '  This  is  not  to  be  found 
exactly  as  stated  either  in  Machiavelli  or  Gentilet,  but  must  have  been 

Eervected  by  the  dramatists  [sic]  from  Principe  xxiii ',  i.e.  the  chapter 
eaded,  in  Dacres'  translation,  That  Flatterers  are  to  he  aeoyded*  Gentilet 
sums  up  this  chapter  in  maxim  A,  2  (Meyer,  p.  10} :  *  Le  Prince,  pour  eviter 
flateurs,  doit  defendre  a  ceux  de  son  conseil,  qu'ils  ne  luy  parlent  ne  don- 
nent  conseil,  sinon  des  choses  dont  il  leur  entamera  propos,  et  demandera 
avis '.  It  is  evident  that  the  maxim  of  the  play  represents  an  advanced 
stage  of  Machiavellism  as  understood  bv  the  English  public  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  The  dramatist  probably  gave  it  its  present  shape  to 
account  for  Alphonsus'  miirder  of  Lorenzo  at  the  close  of  the  scene. 

ly  it  120.  This  statement  is  an  invention  of  the  dramatist  to  motivate  the 
feud  between  Alphonsus  and  the  Palatine.  It  has  no  more  foundation  in 
history  than  the  statement  in  1.  Z23,  that  Alphonsus  sought  to  banish  the 
Duke  of  Saxony. 

%  i»  186-41.  I  find  no  authority  for  this  statement.  Young  victorious  Otho 
i^may  be  Otto  der  Kind,  Herzog  zu  Braunschweig  uad  Liineburg,  but  he 
does  not  seem  to  have  warred  on  the  Elector  of  Mainz.  The  story  of 
Mainz's  captivity  and  ransom  is  an  invention  of  the  dramatist. 

tf  i,  148l  Holiness :  Elze  notes  on  the  use  of  this  title  in  I,  ii,  Z39  that  *  from 
the  times  of  St.  Boniface  the  Archbishop  of  Mentz  was  always  considered 
the  highest  dignitary  of  the  Church  next  to  the  Pope ;  his  was  a  Hdy 
See  {heiliger  SMQ  like  the  Popei's,  whilst  the  other  Archbishops  were 
styled  Archbishops  of  the  Holy  Qti^hedrals  of  Colleo,  Itier,  etc '.    The 


NOTES  695 

tflte  of  '  Holiness '  is  applied  to  Ments  tfacou^hout  this  play ;  onee  also 
to  Collen,  IV,  i,  p. 
I»  U  M.    AemMs*  pilot:  Palinurus.    The  story  of  his  fatal  sleep,  dne  to  the 
god  Somnus,  is  told  by  Virgil,  Aeneid,  V,  833,  ssq. 

t»  U  MI-MS.  AlphonsQS  here  compares  himself  to  an  actor,  who  has  des- 
troyed bis  part,  i.e.  the  notes  which  Lorenzo  has  just  dictated  to  him. 
Some  may  tnink  that  he  has  been  over  hast v  in  so  doing,  but  to  prove  that 
he  studies  sure,  i.e.  gets  his  part  by  heart,  he  will  tnake  a  backwatd  repeti- 
tion, i.e.  repeat  it  backwards.  The  last  maxim  was  that  a  prince  should 
always  be  jealous  of  those  who  knew  his  secrets^  and  Alphonsus  now  puts 
this  mto  practice  by  poisoning  his  privy  councillor,  Lorenzo. 

I,  iL  The  scene  is  laid  in  the  Capella  Regia  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Church  in 
Frankfort.  The  action  is  closely  modelled  after  that  prescribed  by  the 
Golden  Bull  as  the  due  form  for  the  election  of  an  Bmperor,  but  the  author 
has  fallen  into  several  slight  errors.  He  gives  a  wrong  order  of  the  Bleo- 
tors  in  11.  10-40.  According  to  the  Golden  Bull,  diap.  i,  the  order  was 
as  follows  :  Bohemia,  Cologne,  Trier,  the  Palatine,  Saxony,  Brandenburg  ; 
Mainz,  who  had  summoned  the  Electors,  apparently  acted  as  host,  since 
it  is  expressly  stated  that  he  is  to  lead  in  tne  others.  The  order  in  votings 
was  somewhat  different.  Mainz,  who  called  on  the  others  to  declare  their 
choice,  had  the  privilege  of  voting  last ;  the  author's  statement  in  I,  i,  155 
and  I,  ii,  1x5  is  mcorrect.  The  voting  order  was  Trier,  Cologne,  Bohemia, 
Palatine,  Saxony,  Brandenburg,  and  Mainz. 

Further,  the  author  has  oonrased  the  offices  of  several  of  the  Electors. 
Bohemia  was  not  Sewer  to  the  Emperor  (1.  12),  but  Cupbearer,  Archipin- 
cema ;  the  Palatine  was  not  exactly  Taster  (1.  19),  but  Seneschal  or  Chief 
Sewer,  Archidapifer — Comes  etiam  Palatinus  cibum  afferre  tenebitur.  Golden 
Bull,  chap.  iv.  Cologne  was  not  Chancellor  of  GaUia  fl-  29),  but  of  Italy  ; 
and,  vice  versa.  Trier  was  not  Chancellor  of  Italy  (1.  37),  but  of  Galha,  i.e. 
of  Burgundy  and  Axles.  Finally,  the  author  seems  to  have  mi^ranslated 
the  Latin  title  of  the  Margrave  of  Brandenburg,  ArckicaiMrarius.  This 
might  mean  Treasurer  (I.  40),  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  means  High  Cham- 
berlain. The  function  of  Brandenburg  is  specified  in  the  Golden  Bull, 
chap,  iv :  Brandenburg  aquam  lavandis  Imperatoris  .  •  .  manibus  mims- 
tramt, 

I>  ii,  5.  The  seven  piUars.  Elze  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  this  epithet 
is  taken  from  the  Golden  Bull,  chap,  xii :  Sacri  Imperii  Principes  Blectores 
.  .  .  qui  solidi  bases  Imperii  et  cotumnce  immobiles,  etc. 

I,  ii,  16.  Duke  of  Pomerland,  i.e.  Pomerania.  Gerhard  of  Mainz,  who  sup- 
ported Ridiard  of  Cornwall,  had  no  connexion  with  Pomerania.  The  state- 
ment that  the  Archbishop  of  Trier  was  Duke  of  Ixirraine  (1.  37)  is  equally 
unhistorical. 

I»ii,M.  Palestine*  Richard  had  taken  the  cross  as  early  as  1236.  He  sailed 
for  Acre  in  1240,  along  with  Simon  de  Montfort  and  other  nobles,  but  only 
remained  there  a  few  months. 

I»  ii,  77-70.  According  to  the  Golden  Bull,  the  Electors  were  bound  to  choose 
an  Emperor  before  leaving  Frankfurt,  and  if  the  election  was  deferred 
beyond  thirty  days  they  were  to  receive  but  bread  and  water  until  they 
haa  reached  a  dedsion.  There  seems  some  reference  to  this  custom  in 
Bohemia's  remark. 

L  iif  1XL  By  a  fuU  c&nseiU :  by  a  imanimous  agreement  ol  the  Eleetocs. 
This  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  facts. 

I,  iii  185.    Him:  Alphonsus. 

L  iit  M4L  The  Earl  of  Leicester  and  the  barons.  The  reference  is  to  Simon 
de  Montfort,  Earl  of  Leicester,  and  the  barons  who  leagued  with  him  to 
obtain  redress  of  grievances  from  Henry  III.  The  '  Mad  Parliament '  in 
which  they  compelled  him  to  accept  the  Provisions  oi  Oxford  was  held 
in  the  year  after  Richard's  electifw,  1258.  Later  when  war  broke  out 
between  the  King  and  the  Barons,  Richard  joined  his  brother  and  was 
taken  prisoner  at  Lewes,  1264.  The  play  seems  to  regard  the  quarrel-  as 
already  raging  in  1257. 


696       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

I»  li,  81ft.    I  have  not  noted  any  instance  of  the  archaic  /or  tfky  in  Chapmim'* 
tragedies. 

It  ii«  286.  For  age  and  age :  forever  and  ever.  See  The  New  En^Uh  Dic- 
tionary, sub  Age,  10. 

I»  ii,  286.  i4  .'  a  common  Elizabethan  abbreviation  for  '  he '.  It  is  not,  I 
think,  used  by  Chapman  in  his  tragedies. 

I.  ii,  268.    Casar  s  :  the  reference  is  to  the  Emperor  Alphonsos. 

I,  ii,  261.     Wehrhaftig :   capable  of  bearing  arms. 

I,  ii,  261-5,  There  seems  a  reference  here  to  the  so-called  SckwabenaUer, 
It  was  said  by  way  of  derision  of  the  lethargic  and  thick-witted  Snabians 
that  it  took  a  bo]^  forty  years  to  grow  up  to  manhood  among  them  Ei» 
Schwab  braucht  vierxig  Jahr  um  Mug  xu  sein.  The  custom  of  promoting 
a  boy  to  manhood  by  giving  him  a  box  on  the  ear  and  girding  htm  with  a 
sword  is  an  old  German  one.  Elze  calls  attention  to  a  passage  in  Grim* 
melshausen's  Simplicissimus  (ed.  Keller,  vol.  ii,  p.  179),  where  the  disguised 
virgin  Lebuschka  is  so  promoted  by  her  master :  dannenhero  erkiaU  itk 
bald  van  ihm,  dass  er  m$r  einen  Degen  schenchU  und  mieh  mit  eintr  Mami^ 
tasche  Wehrhafft  machte. 

n^  L  86.  Conmt  Mansfield:  probably  a  reference,  with  the  characteristic 
Elizabethan  disregard  of  anachronism,  to  Count  Ernest  Mansfield,  son  of 
Count  Peter  Ernest  who  appears  in  Byron*5  Conspiracy,  I,  ii,  182-90. 
Count  Ernest  had  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  senrmg 
first  under  Frederick  of  the  Palatinate.  He  had  visited  England  in  1624 
to  stren^hen  the  Protestant  Alliance  against  the  Lea^e.  He  died  in 
1626,  rismg  from  a  sick  bed  to  put  on  full  armour  and  die  standing. 

H,  i,  46.  The  Emperors  :  i.e.  Alphonsus  and  Bohemia  himself,  who  has  been 
made  joint  Emperor,  I,  ii,  165-78. 

n,  ii,  50.  The  Arnbidexter :  the  Vice,  or  comic  character  in  the  old  play  of 
Cambises,  printed  1569-70,  the  work  of  Thomas  Preston  of  CamDridge. 
It  seems  to  have  been  well  known  for  many  years  after  its  first  appearance, 
as  it  is  referred  to  by  Shakespeare  in  x  K.H.  IV,  II,  iv,  42$ :  I  mnst  speak 
in  passion  and  I  will  do  it  in  King  Cambyses*  vein.  The  Vice,  Ambidexter, 
enters  *  with  an  old  cap-case  on  his  head,  an  old  pail  about  his  hips  for 
harness,  a  scummer  and  a  pot-lid  by  his  side,  and  a  rake  on  his  shoulder '. 
In  accordance  with  his  name,  he  constantly  plays  a  double  part  in  the 
action: 

My  name  is  Ambidexter,  I  signify  one. 
That  with  both  hands  finely  can  play  ; 
Now  with  King  Cambises,  and  by  and  by  gone, 
Thus  do  I  run  this  and  that  way. 

It  is  to  this  duplicity  that  the  Prince  refers  when  he  says  that  Mentz  wil 
play  the  Ambidexter  cunningly.  The  allusion  to  so  old  a  play  as  Cambises 
IS  one  of  the  proofs,  I  think,  that  Alphonsus  in  its  onginal  form  must 
belong  to  the  sixteenth  century.  The  allusion  would  hardly  have  been 
familiar  in  1636  when  it  was  performed  at  Blackfriars.  There  is  a  similar 
allusion  in  tb^  old  play.  Sir  Clyomon  and  Sir  Clamydes,  formerly  ascribed 
toPeele(Bullen*sfKbrA5o/  Peele,  vol.  ii,  p.  131) ;  but  by  Kittredge  {Journal 
of  Germ.  Phil.,  vol.  ii,  p.  8)  to  Preston. 

n,  ii,  88-91.  '  Look  you,  that  is  not  the  custom  here  !  My  God,  is  that  the 
English  fashion  ?     May  [the  devil  take]  you '. 

n,  ii,  84.  His  country  fashion.  The  old^Engllsh  custom  of  greeting  guests  oe* 
strangers  with  a  kiss  excited  much  comment  from  foreigners.  The  locus 
classicus  regarding  this  fashion  is  the  letter  of  Erasmus  to  Andrelini  {Epis^ 
tola,  no.  zo^,  edited  by  Allen,  1906) :  ^  Est  prcsterea  mos  nunquam  satis 
laudatus.  Sive  ^uo  venias,  omnium  osculis  exdpieris  ;  sive  discedas  aUquo, 
osculis  dimittens;  redis,  redduntur  suavia;  venitur  ad  te,  fropinaniur 
suavia;  disceditur  abs  te,  dividuntur  basta;  occuritur  aUcubi,  basiaiur 
affaUm  ;  denique  quocunque  te  nufveas,  suaviorum  plena  sunt  omnia.  Qua 
st  tu,  Fauste,  gustasses  semel  quam  sint  mollicula,  quam  fragrantia,  profedo 

1  See  Hewlett's  charming  tnuulttiOQ  of  this  passage  «t  the  twrinnlng  of  TkiDvchsss  of 
None  io  LMt  No9tk  of  ItOy 


NOTES  697 

cufsres  non  decmiUum  solum  ,  ,  ,  sed  ad  morUm\usqiu  in  AngUa  per^ 
gritMri. 

U,  &•  117-B.  '  May  [the  devil  take]  you  1  Must  I,  poor  child,  be  put  to 
shame?' 

n*  ii,  12S^-4.  '  Ah,  dear  lady,  take  it  in  good  part ;  it  is  the  English  manner 
and  custom '.    '  Your  Grace  knows  well  that  it  is  a  great  shame  to  me '. 

n,  ii,  12S-7.    '  Gracious  lady,  forgive  me ;   I  will  never  do  it  again  '. 

n^  ii»  128.  Upsy  Dutch :  Elze  explains  that  '  this  phrase  is  a  corruption 
either  of  the  Middle  Dutch  op  syn  dietsch  Or  of  the  Low  German  op.  syn 
dUtsch.  It  means  "  in  his  German  ", "  in  German  ",  or,  as  the  Germans  say, 
auf  gut  Deutsch,  and,  from  the  language,  has  been  transferred  to  German 
manners  altogether '.  Here  the  phrase  refers  to  the  German  fashion  of 
kissing  one's  own  hand  in  salutation. 

n^  ii«  188-42.  '  In  truth,  [it  is]  no  shame '.  '  Gracious ,  highborn  Prince 
and  Lord,  if  I  could  speak  enough  English,  I  would  in  truth  give  your 
Grace  a  snub ;  but  I  hope  I  shall  sometime  learn  enough,  so  that  you  mav 
understand  me  '.  The  word  fiU,  1.  141,  is  the  same  as  the  EnfUsh  '  felt ' , 
'  stufi  \  but  it  is  used  in  the  idioms,  fUx  geben,  austciUn,  etc.,  m  the  sense 
of  '  snub  '  or  *  reproof '.    See  Grimm's  WdrUrlmch,  sub  Filz. 

H,  y,  158-0.  Saxon  had  given  Isabella  full  power  to  conclude  the  marriage 
arrangements  of  his  daughter. 

n^  ii,  lv7~70.  '  Is  your  Grace  content  with  this  ?  '  '  What  your  Serene 
Highness  wishes,  my  father  wishes,  and  what  my  father  wishes  therewith 
must  I  be  content^. 

n,  ii,  198.  •  His  lifers  reproach :  reproaches  heaped  upon  his  life. 

II,  ii,  281.    Selected :  this  word  modifies  Emperor's,  not  Electors. 

IZ,  ii»  288-0.  The  corporate  body  of  the  seven  Electors  is  stigmatised,  in  the 
language  of  popular  theology,  as  the  whore  of  Babylon  seated  upon  her  seven- 
headed  beast,  Revelation  xvii,  z-o.  Such  a  reference  is  not  at  all  in  the 
manner  of  Chapman,  but  quite  lixe  Peele,  the  '  true-blue '  Englishman. 

Q,  ii*  286-802.  Possibly  we  have  here  an  allusion  to  the  old  Hamlet  and  the 
Ghost  which  cried  so  miserably  at  the  Theatre  '  Hamlet,  revenge '. 

n^  ii,  806.  Gripping  at  our  lots :  Elze  notes  this  as  a  Germanism,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  usual  English  phrase  '  draw  lots  \ 

n,  ii,  814.  For  to  help :  I  have  not  noticed  any  instance  of  this  archaic  form 
of  the  infinite  in  Chapman. 

n^  ii,  821.  See  Text  Notes,  pp.  706-7.  I  interpret  the  emended  lines  as  follows : 
'  Dutch  boors  are  devilisn  rogues ',  etc.  Towsandt  schelms,  I  intm>ret,  on 
the  analogy  of  such  phrases  as  '  Tausendsassa '  —  '  Teufelskerl ', '  Tausend- 
kiinstler '  »  '  Teufel '  as  equivalent  to  *  the  devil's  own  rogues '. 

n^  Ii,  824.  By  your  Highness :  This  seems  to  me  rather  a  Germanism  than 
idiomatic  Elizabethan  English. 

Q,  ii,  82S.  This  clumsy  device  smacks  of  the  earliest  period  of  Elizabethan 
drama.    A  similar  one  is  preserved  in  Titus  Andronicus,  II,  iii. 

Q,  ii,  846.  Rhadamant :  Rhadamanthus,  one  of  the  three  judges  of  the  dead 
along  with  Minos  and  iGacus.  He  appears  frequently  m  Elizabethan 
drama  in  this  r61e ;  cf.  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  I,  1,  33. 

n,  iii,  8.    A  plumper  boor :   *  a  lubberly  j^easant ',  Elze. 

n,  iii,  28.    A%x:  Aix-la-Chapelle,  the  city  m  which  the  Emperors  of  the  Holy 
•  Roman  Empire  received  the  crown  of  Germany  from  813  to  1531. 

I^  iii,  88-80.  Come  here,  Hans ;  where  art  thou  ?  Whv  art  thou  so  sad  ? 
Be  merry  I  You  may  earn  much  money ;  we  will  kill  him,  by  gad '. 
'  Let  me  see  the  letters '. 

n,  iii,  89-41.  '  Hans  and  Jerick,  my  dear  friends,  I  pray  keep  it  a  secret^and 
kill  the  Englishman.' 

B,  Iii,  58-100. 

Jer.    What  say  you,  wiU  you  do  it  ? 

Hans.    What  will  I  not  do  for  money  !    Look,  by  gad,  there  he  is. 
Jer»    Yes,  by  gad  zookers,  it's  he.    Hallo,  good  morning,  good  luck, 
gentleman  I 
Hans,    Gmtleman*  the  devill  he  is  a  boor. 


698   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

Rick.    Yoo  an  a  raacal,  keep  o£f ! 

Ta^.  Hallo,  hallo,  are  you  so  proud  ?  Sir  boor,  come  here,  or  ttw  deril 
take  you. 

Rich,    I  am  a  Prince ;  don't  lay  hands  on  me,  you  rogues,  you  traitocs  ! 

Boih.    Strike,  strike.    We'll  treat  you  like  a  prince. 

Rich.    O  God,  receive  my  spirit  hito  thy  hands. 

Jer,    O  excellent,  fine  1    He  s  dead,  he's  dead.    Let  ua  see  what 
he  has  on  him.    Hidlo,  here's  enouah,  quite  enough ;  there's  lor  you, 
there's  for  me,  and  this  I'll  take  mto  the  bargain. 

Ham,    HofT  so.  Jack  fool?    Hand  me  over  the  chain. 

Jer,  Yes,  liJce  ftm  1  This  chain  looks  fine  on  my  neck ;  I'm  going  to 
wear  it. 

Hans,  The  falling  sickness  Uast  you  t  Yon  shall  never  do  that,  you 
rogue. 

Jer,    What,  do  yoa  call  me  rogue  ?    Take  that  1 

Ham.  A  hundred  thousand  devils  take  you  !  Wait  a  bit,  I'll  leara 
you  ! 

Jer,    WiU  you  strike  or  thrust  ? 

Ham,    I'D  strike  fair. 

J^,    Very  well ;  there's  my  back,  strike  away. 

Ham,    Take  that  I    And  here's  my  back. 

Jer,  Once  more  I  O  ezoeUent,  are  you  down  ?  Now  rU  have  every- 
thmg,  money  and  chain,  and  the  whole  lot.  O  fkne^  cheer^up,  j<^y  I  Now 
I'm  a  fine  gentleman. 

Rich,  You  villain,  rogue,  murderer,  turn  here,  do  you  see  mc  ?  Give 
me  the  chain  and  the  money  back. 

Jer,  What,  are  you  come  to  Ufa  again  ?  Then  I  most  defend  myself. 
Wfll  you  thrust  or  strike  ? 

Rich,    That's  what  I'll  do,  you  rogue  1 

Jer.  Wait,  wait  a  bit.  II  you're  a  honest  fellow,  fight  fair.  O  I'm 
dyin^,  I'm  dying.    Let  me  live. 

1?mA.  Tell  me  then  who  wrote  the  letters.  Don't  lie,  but  speak  the 
truth. 

Jer,  O  my  honourable,  good,  noble,  wocahipful  gentleman,  there  is  the 
money  and  the  chain  back  again ;  you  AaU  have  it  all  back,  but  who 
wrote  the  letters,  that  I  don't  know  upon  my  soul. 

Rich,    Lie  stiU  there,  still,  I  say. 

«  •  •  •  * 

So  die,  rogue  I 
Jer,    O,  I'm  dyuig,  oh,  oh,  oh  I    The  devil  fiy  away  with  you  ! 
Sax.    Fie  upon  you,  wretched  villain,  have  you  killed  your  comMide  ? 
Pal,    Let  us  seize  the  villain. 

&iii»  US.  Bitiu :  an  old  German  contraction  for  hist  du,  art  thou, 
i,  10.  Wait  up :  £lae  takes  this  phrase  as  a  Germanism  equivalent  to 
aufwarten,  Le.  attend. 
m,  i,  8L  The  Fool  rides  thee.  It  seems  to  have  been  a  oommou  practice  in 
the  old  drama  for  the  Fool,  or  Vice,  to  be  carried  off  the  stage  by  the  Devil. 
Cushman  {The  Devil  and  the  Vice,  p,  X3o)  points  out  that  suda  an  exit  for  the 
Vice  occurs  in  onlv  one  surviving  play,  Like  WUl  to  Like  ;  but  a  passage  in 
Jonson,  The  Devil  is  An  Ass,  V,  iv,jMoves,  I  think,  that  the  practice  was 
well  known.  When  Iniquity,  the  Vice  of  Jonson's  play,  tafite  Pug,  the 
Devil,  upon  his  shoulden^  he  ezdaima 

The  Devil  was  woni  to  oOfry  asvay  OU  Evil, 
But  now  the  Evil  outcarries  the  Devil, 

The  phrase  the  Evil  in  these  lines  is  evidently  «  synonym  for  the  Vice, 
nir  i*  88.    Reinfal :  a  southern  wine,  highly  prieed  in  Germany  in  the  Middle 
Ages.    Grimm,  W drier buoh,  says  that  the  oldest  German  form  of  the  word 
is  raivul,  from  mmtm  rivale.    The  attempt  to  fix  the  spot  whence  tMir^sort 
of  wine  came  does  not  appear  to  baVe  Wen  suoewtftiH  althot^  Tarious 


NOTES.  699 

plaAesy  »uch  as  Rivooljo  in  Istria,  Rivoti  in  the  tenitory  of  VerooBi  Rivallo 
west  of  Trieste,  and  others,  have  l>een  suggested. 

ID,  i,  88.  Elze  fandes  that  something  has  been  lost  before  this  roeech.  But 
it  is  not  necessary  to  assume  this.  The  connescion  between  the  speech  of 
Alphonsus,  II.  26-31,  and  the  reply  ol  the  Empress,  ttes  in  the  phrase, 
imexpected  league,  1.  31.  The  Empress  remarks  that  Edward  like  a  true 
bridegroom  is  too  rapt  in  the  contemplation  of  the  bride  to  revel  lusty 
upsy  Dutch, 

n  If  46.  Es  giU :  an  expression  used  in  drinking  a  health,  equivalent  to 
'  here  is '. 

n  !•  48.  '  God  help  me,  it  shall  be  a  welcome  pledge  to  me '.  Sam, 
according  to  Grimm's  Worterbuch,  occurs  regularly  in  such  phrases  ai 
Sam  mir  Gott,  i.e.  so  wahr  mir  GoU  helfen  mo^e,  Sam  mir  a^  neilige 
Grab,  etd.  Professor  Schick  informs  me  that  m  Wiirtemburg  Sam  GoU 
is  still  a  common  colloquial  response  to  Prosit,  the  word  which  accompanies 
the  drinking  of  a  health. 

nit  i,  88.  TroU  out,  Elze  did  not  understand  this  phrase  (see  Text  Notes, 
p.  708) ;  but  it  is  a  not  uncommon  idiom.  See  Tempest,  III,  ii,  126,  troU 
the  catch,  and  Paradise  Lost,  XI,  616.  troll  the  tongue, 

n  i,  68.  'To  that  end  here's  another  health,  Your  Majesty '.  ' God  help 
me,  let  it  come*. 

n^  U  81-8.  This  custom,  spoken  of  here  as  a  purely  local  Saxon  custom,  is 
the  well-known '  Toby-night ',  or  *  nights  ',  ordained  as  a  rule  of  the  Churdi 
by  the  Council  at  Carthage,  a.d.  398.  The  rule  was  authorized  by  the 
example  of  Tobith  (Toby),  who  spent  the  first  three  nights  of  his  maniage 
in  prayer  and  so  escaped  the  death  whidi  had  befallen  his  brothers.  But 
this  custom  of  abstinence  for  the  first  night,  or  nights,  never  seems  to  have 
been  so  prevalent  in  Germany  as  in  France,  where  absolutions  from  its 
observance  were  actually  sold  by  priests  to  eager  husbands.  See  on  this 
subject,  Karl  Weinhold,  Die  deutschen  Frauen  in  dem  'MttUlaUerj  p.  268, 
and  Du  MerU  Edelstand,  Etudes  sur  quelques  points  d^Archiologu,  p.  7a- 

n^  i,  81-8.  '  Will  you  sleep  with  me  to-night  *  ?  *  God  forbid,  I  hope 
your  Majesty  will  not  ask  it  of  me  % 

m,  i,  87.  ^  facob*s  staff :  an  astronomical  instrument,  formerly  used  for 
taking  the  altitude  of  the  sun.  It  is  mentioned  by  Webster  {The  White 
DevU,  I,  ii,  Z02),  Nash  {Piers  Penniless),  and  Overbury  {Character  of  an 
Almanaeh-maher) ;   but  nowhere  with  the  implied  meaning  it  has  here. 

IIX,i,180L  We^UdrinhabouL  Elzerefers  to  thisasaGerman  custom,  H^mm 
irinken,  but  something  very  similar  was  known  in  England  in  Elizabethan 
times  and  even  later.  Cf.  the  *  round  '  of  healths  m  All  Fools,  V,  i^  53- 
76. 

n^  I,  118.  HOpsch  boor^maihins :  i.e.  hiibsche  Bauer-madchen,  pretty 
peasant  girls. 

m,  i,  188.  Sets  my  teeth  an  edte :  i.e.  gives  me  an  appetite ;  cf .  the  use  of  this 
phrase  in  Winter*s  Tale,  IV,  iii,  7.  This  use  is  to  be  distinguished  from 
the  better  known  phrase,  '  to  set  one's  teeth  on  edge ',  i.e.  to  cause  an 
unpleasant  tingling.  It  is  in  this  latter  sense  that  Shakespeare  uses  the 
phrase  set  my  teeth  onedge  ini.K.H.  IV,  III,  1, 13^,  where  the  oldest  editions 
(all  the  Qq.,  except  3  and  4»  and  Fi)  read  an  edge, 

m,  1, 18L  Thou^  wy  robes  be  homely :  Isabel  is  dressed  as  a  chambermaid ; 
d.  II,  ii,  z6. 

Bit  U  188.  In  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  the  Hnks  or  puddings  are, 
of  conrse,  sausages.  The  mitre  was  probably  a  hiah  peaked  hat.  The 
eorances  are  chaplets  or  garlands,  German  ITfafir.  Cf.  the  reading  of  the 
quartos,  crants,  m  HamM,  V,  ii,  255,  where  the  folio  has  rites, 

UJtU  14(^-1.  Dorp:  village,  thorpe.  Cf.  German  Dorf.  Schinhen^JMOO, 
oc,  as  the  stage  direction  above  has  it,  '  a  gammon '. 

m,  i,  144.  Nippitate :  good,  prime,  an  adjective  formed  from  nippUate,  or 
mpfdtaio,  '  good  ale '.    3ee  Knight  of  the  Burning  PestU,  IV,  ii. 

n^  i,  148.  Rommer  dantxen :  *  rommer  or  rummer  is  a  coiruption  of  herum  *, 
Eke.    The  phrase  means  *  dance  aronnd  '• 


7M       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

IXI»  i,  161.  An  Almoin  and  an  upspring :  an  Almaiii  is  a  danoe  taking  its 
name  from  the  coimtnr  of  its  origin, '  Almaine  \  i.e.  Gecmany .  It  seems  to 
have  been  a  slow  and  stately  measure ;  see  the  stage  direction  in  Peele*s 
Arraignment  of  Paris,  II,  i,  i6i :  Nine  knights  in  armour,  treading  a  wariike 
almoin,  and  Morley's  definition  of  the  *  Alman ',  a  form  of  dance-music, 
as  a  heavier  dance  than  the  galliard  {Introduction  to  Music,  1597,  pt.  Ill, 

1>.  307).    The  upspring,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  German  Hiuifauf,  '  the 
ast  and  wildest  danoe  at  the  old  German  merry  makings ',  Else. 

n  U  16S.    The  dance  represented  in  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  j^ 

?ears  to  be  a  form  of  the  '  Aknain '.    The  foredance  is  the  German  Vifrlanx. 
he  New  EngUsh  Dictionary  gives  no  instance  of  this  word. 
m^  1, 167.    '  Away,  peasant,  and  make  love  to-morrow '.    Ldffeln  frequently 
occurs,  Elze  says,  in  German  writers  of  this  date.     Grimm,  Worttrtueh^ 
says  it  is  originally  a  piece  of  students*  slang ;  cf .  our  slang  i)hrases  '  to  be 
rooons  on ', '  spoony  .    To  house :  home,  a  Germanism,  equivalent  to  the 
German  phrase  xu  Haus,  *  at  home ',  or  '  home '. 
VSf  U  181-4.    '  Here's  to  you,  peasant '  !    '  God  help  me !     Oh,  maidoi, 
'    help  me  then  {    Oh,  maiden,  drink.    Here's  a  health,  good  friend,  a  meixy 
draught '. 

VJt  U  164.  There  is  a  close  parallel  to  the  poisoning  indicated  in  the  stage 
direction  after  this  Une  in  Antonio's  Revenue,  I,  i,  66-70,  where  Piero  t^ 
how  after  drinking  to  Andruglo  he  dropped  poison  in  the  cup  and  handed 
it  to  him  to  return  the  pledge. 
n^  i,  178.  Pepper'd,  Alexander  had  been  the  first  to  taste  the  cup,  I.  x6i, 
so  that  if  it  should  be  poisoned,  he  is  '  done  for '.  The  use  of  '  peppet^d ' 
in  this  sense  is  common  in  Elizabethan  English,  see  the  New  EngUsk 
Dictionary,  sub  Pepper,  5. 

m,  i,  176-7.  '  What  is  it,  what  is  it,  what  will  you  do  to  me  ?  '  •  Drink 
out,  drink  out,  or  the  devil  fly  on  with  you  .  '  Oh,  content  you,  I'll 
gladly  drink '. . 
tn,  i,  179.  Spanish  flies  :  the  popular  name  of  the  beetles  which  furnish  the 
drug  cantharides,  used  here,  with  reference  to  the  native  country  of  Alphoo- 
sus,  as  eouivalent  to  '  poison '. 

n^  1, 180.  This :  i.e.  the  reappearance  in  disguise  of  Saxon  and  Palsgrave, 
who  had  seceded  from  the  conclave  of  the  Electors,  cf.  I,  ii,  loi. 

nX,  L  SOI.  Fear  myself :  i.e. '  fear  for  myself ',  a  not  uncommon  Eli^bethan 
idiom ;  cf .  Richard  III,  I,  i,  137  :  His  physicians  fear  him  mightily,  and 
All*s  WeU,  III,  V,  31 :  You  shall  not  need  to  fear  me.  I  owe  these  refer- 
ences to  Mr.  Daniel. 

n^  !•  827.    For  to  unlace :  cf.  note  on  II,  ii,  314. 

m,  U  871.  Lanshnights  :  one  of  the  various  forms  of  the  EngUsh  rendering 
of  the  German  Landsknecht ;  others  are  '  launceknights ',  a  popular  ety- 
mology, and  the  commoner  '  lansquenet ',  through  the  Frexich.  Aooord- 
ing  to  Grimm's  Wdrterbuch,  both  the  word  and  the  thing  date  from  the 
wars  of  Maximiliam  I,  1580-90.  Strictly  a  Landsknecht  was  a  foot  sol- 
dier of  German  nationality  as  opposed  to  a  Swiss  or  other  foreign  mer- 
cenary. 

m,  i,  889, 891.    For  the  assignment  of  these  speeches,  see  Text  Notes,  p.  709. 

JSJ,  U  888.  B^  night  all  cats  are  grey.  Elze  calls  this  '  a  German  proverb 
whichj  I  think,  will  be  nowhere  else  found  in  EngUsh '.  It  occurs,  faow^ 
ever,  m  the  Proverbs  of  John  Hevwood,  1562,  Part  I,  chap,  v,  'When all 
candles  be  out,  all  cats  be  gray.'^ 

JSSt  i,  887.  As  Robertson  {he.  cit.,  p.  X27)  points  out,  this  line  is  an  echo  of 
one  in  Peele's  AffM^ment  of  Paris,  il,  i,  176 : 

To  ravtsh  all  thy  beating  veins  with  joy. 

Us,  U  848.    At6  .*  the  goddess  of  mischief. 

n^  i,  868.  Cf.  I,  i,  179-82  ;  but  there  is  no  need  of  assuming  that  the  two 
poisons  are  the  same. 

Xn,  i,  869.  Cf.  Peele,  Edward  /,  sc  xzv.,  1.  zxs:  The  wanton  baUs  that  mads 
me  such  my  bane. 

Uk  it  878.    Traoants :  an  English  reodoting  of  the  German  Trabant^  »gaaxd»- 


NOTES  7(W 

man.    I  doubt  whether  the  word  oocors  elsewhere  in  English ;  it  is  not 

given  in  the  CenUsfy  Dictionary, 

Elze  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  an  indlgxiity  similar  to  that  offered 

the  Empress  in  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  occurs  in  Bussy,  V,  i. 

This  is,  however,  no  proof  of  Chapman's  authorship  of  Aiphonsus  ;    a 

similar  indignity  occurs  in  Ford's  *Tis  Pity  She's  a  Wkoref  IV,  iii,  but  no 

one  has  yet  suggested  that  Ford  wrote  Aiphonsus. 
m,  i»  884-5.    Like  a  strumpet,  etc. ;   probably  a  reference  to  the  story  of 

Rahab,  Joshua,  ii,  1--Z5. 
IV,  i*  88.    Clown*s  attire :  the  reference  is  to  the  boors'  or  clowns'  disguise 

worn  by  Saxon  and  Richard  on  their  return  to  the  Court,  III,  i,  13a,  stage 

direction. 
17,  i»  88.    Suspicious  of :  the  context,  I  think,  shows  that  this  means  '  sus- 
pected by '  and  so  in  danger  from,  Aiphonsus ;  but  the  phrase  might  be 

taken  in  its  usual  sense. 
IV,  i,  88-94.    *  But  say,  dear  daughter,  where  wast  thou  this  past  night '  ? 

'  Where  ?    Where  should  I  be  ?    I  was  in  bed '.    '  If  thou  wast  alone,  thou 

wast  greatly  frightened '.    *  I  had  no  other  purpose  than  to  have  slept 

alone,  but  about  midnight  my  bridegroom  came  and  slept  with  me,  till 

we  were  waked  with  the  uproar '. 
17,  i,  100.    Did  she  run  together :  Elze  suggests  reading  did  [you]  run  together, 

but  the  phrase  looks  to  me  like  a  Germanism,  lief  sie  mit,  i.e.  did  she  run 

along  with  you? 
17,  i,  118-8.    '  Hedewick,  the  Prince  says  he  did  not  sleep  with  you '.    '  It 

pleases  him  to  say  so,  but  I  felt  it  well  enough '. 
17,  i,  110.    *  Bh,  dear,  why  should  you  ask  ?  ' 
17,  U  184.    '  That  hast  thou  done,  or  the  devil  take  me '. 
17,  i,  140.    Pack  thee :  Elze  reckons  this  reflexive  use  as  a  Germanism,  but 

it  occurs  in  English  as  early  as  Kennedy's  Flyting,  1508,  and  in  Chester's 

Lov^s  Martyr,  i6oi. 
17,  i,  188.    Cf.  similar  archaic  forms  in  II,  ii,  3i4»  and  III,  i,  227*    Note 

also  an  archaic  for  why  in  1.  203,  like  that  in  I,  ii,  215.     Underbear  does 

not  occur  in  Chapman's  plays,  but  is  found  in  Peele,  Garter,  Prologue,  1. 26, 
and  Angl.  Fer.,  1.  202. 
17,  i,  800.    And  not  revenge :  This  absolute  use  of  revenge  as  a  verb  in  the 

sense  *  inflict  punishment ', '  take  revenge  upon ',  is  rare,  but  not  unknown 

in  English ;   see  New  English  Dictionary,  sub  Revenge,  5. 
17,  ii,  7.    Tartarian,  of  Tartary.    As  a  rule  the  adjective  sigoifies  '  pertaining 

to  Tartarus ' ;   thus  Paradise  Lost,  II,  69  ;  but  Marlowe,  i  Tamburlaine, 

III,  iii,  151,  has  the  white  Tartarian  hills,  a  line  which,  as  Robortson  {op* 

ciL,  p.  132)  points  out,  is  imitated  here. 
17,  ii,  9-10.    Koeppel  {loc.  cit,  p.  79)  sees  so  close  a  resemblance  between  the 

simile  in  these  hues  and  a  passage  in  Shakespeare  as  to  indicate  imitation 

on  the  part  of  the  author  of  Aiphonsus.    CL  King  John,  V,  vii,  30-4 : 

Thsre  is  so  hot  a.  summer  in  my  bosom. 
That  all  my  bowels  crumble  up  to  dust: 
I  am  a  scribbled  form  drawn  with  a  pen 
Upon  a  parchment,  and  against  this  fire    ' 
Do  I  shrink  up. 

17,  ii,  89.  The  cold  swift-running  Rhein :  Elze  in  his  note  on  this  line  remarks 
that  *  the  Rhine  coiild  hardly  be  better  characterized  in  so  few  words  than 
by  the  mention  of  its  two  pre-eminent  features ',  and  surmises  (p.  25)  that 
these  epithets  proceed  from  the  writer's  personal  knowledge. 

17,  ii,  74.    With  these  words  Aiphonsus  feigns  a  recurrence  of  his  pains. 

17,  ii,  84.    The  speech  is  interrupted  here  by  a  feigned  swoon. 

17,  ii,  98.    /  have  wrong :   I  am  wronged.    Cf.  Venus  and  Adonis,  I.  329  : 
The  heart  hath  trAle  wrong. 

17,  iiL  The  appearance  of  Hedewick  wOh  the  Child  at  the  bM[inninff  of  this 
scene  furnishes  one  of  the  most  amusing  instances  of  the  Eiisabethan  dis- 


702   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

regard  for  the  unity  of  time.  The  child  was  begotten  on  the  ni^t  after 
the  marriage  feast  celebrated  in  III,  i ;  and  from  that  time  the  action  has 
been  continuous,  for  the  death  of  Bohemia  mentioned  in  IV,  ii  must  take 
place  on  the  day  foUowin|,  see  III,  i,  357-8,  and  437.  Consequently  we 
are  forced  to  imagine  an  mterval  of  time  sufficient  for  the  gestation  and 
birth  of  the  child  between  IV,  ii  and  IV,  iii,  that  is,  between  two  scenes 
which  on  the  Elizabethan  sta^e  were  played  consecutively,  and  without 
interval.  It  is  against  absurdities  of  this  sort  that  Sidney's  attack  in  the 
D^fetus  of  Poesie  is  directed. 

IT,  iilt  1«  Mag  of  misery :  picture,  or  image  of  misery.  Cf.  Monsieur  lyOHo^ 
I,  1,  |03 :  Farewell,  the  true  map  of  a  gull. 

A  closer  parallel  occurs  in  Titus  Andronicus.  Ill,  ii,  12,  where  the  phrase 
Thou  map  of  woe  Jis  applied  to  a  distressed  lady.  This  scene  of  Tiius 
is  lacking  in  the  Qq.  and  was  almost  certainly  written  by  Shakespeare. 

IV»  iii*  9-11.  *  O  my  dear  father,  I  have  in  these  long,  long  forty  weeks, 
which,  it  seems  to  me,  have  been  forty  years,  learned  a  little  English,  and 
I  hope  he  will  understand  me,  etc. '. 

Vff  iii*  85.  Lamps :  Elxe  compares  the  phrasing  of  the  Engfa'sh  translation 
of  the  Golden  BuU,  16x9 :  '  The  seven  Electors  by  whom  as  by  seven 
candlesticks  .  .  .  the  holy  empire  should  be  illuminated  '.  But  the  meta- 
phorical use  of  '  lamp '  to  denote  a  source  of  moral  or  intellectual  light  is 
much  older  than  this.    See  New  English  DicHonary,  sub  Lamp,  3. 

!▼•  iii»  SO-8.  The  text  is  confused  here,  probably  owing  to  the  .haste  and 
confusion  of  the  writer.  There  are  three  generations  of  the  Saxon  Nooi 
present,  Saxon.  Hedewick,  and  the  child  ;  but  only  two  of  them  fare  ^de- 
scended from  Saxon's  loins,  and  it  is  only  by  a  figure  of  speech  that  the 
newborn  babe  {cf.  1.  x6o)  can  be  represented  as  hneeling  to  its  putative 
father. 

I?,  iii»  €1,  Athamas  :  Athamas  was  driven  mad  by  a  fury  sent  against  hhn 
by  Juno,  and  in  his  madness  seized  and  dashed  out  the  brains  of  his  infant 
son.    His  story  is  told  in  detail  by  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  IV,  4x6-562. 

!▼•  Hi,  70-8.  '  Ah,  my  sweet  Edward,  my  sweetheart,  my  darling,  my  dear 
and  only  beloved,  my  dearest  husband,  I  prithee,  my  love,  locdc  kindly 
upon  me;  good  sweetheart,  tell  the  truth*. 

IT,  iU  7S-0.  *  For  I  am  thine,  and  thou  art  mine,  thou  hast  given  me  a 
little  child ;  oh,  Edward,  sweet  Edward,  have  pity  on  him ',  AlUrKevest, 
ii-  7z»  73,  corresponds  to  the  BngUsh  '  alder-hefest ' ;  see  «  K*H.  VI,  I, 
i,  28. 

IV«  iii*  78.    '  Dear  Edward,  you  know  I  am  your  dearest  wife '. 

nr,  iilt  SMI.  '  Oh  my  dearest  highborn  Prince  and  Lord,  think  that  our 
Lord  God  sits  in  the  throne  of  Heaven,  and  sees  the  heart,  and  will  well 
avenge  my  cause*. 

IV»  ill,  86.  Hold  me  .  ,  ,  up:  Bhe  takes  this  as  a  Germanism,  equivalent 
to  halie  mich  auf,  I  oan  luid  no  exact  parallel  to  it  in  English,  out  it  is 
nearly  akin  to  '  hold  in  suspense '. 

IV,  Uif  94-8.    '  O  iather,  oh,  my  (father,  spare  my  child  !    O  Edward,  oh,  * 
Prmce  Edward,  speak  now  or  nevermore.    The  child  is  mine,  it  must  not 
die'. 

IV,  ill,  118-9.  '  Ah,  father,  give  me  my  child,  the  child  is  mine '.  *  I  know 
that  well ;  he  says  it  is  not  his '. 

IV,  iii,  181.    *  O  God  in  his  throne  !    O  my  child,  my  child  ! ' 

IV,  Iii.  184^.  '  Alas,  alas,  and  woe  is  me,  why  said  not  your  Exoelleney  so 
before  now,  now  'tis  too  late,  our  poor  child  is  killed '. 

IV,  iii»  188-41.  '  My  father,  I  beg  upon  my  knee,  let  me  rather  die.  Fare- 
well, false  Edward,  false  Prince,  I  desire  it  not  [i.e.  to  live  with  thee]  '. 

IV,  ill*  148.  Hammer  in  thy  head  :  Mr.  Robertson,  op,  dU,  pp.  47-^  notes 
that  this  phrase  is  used  by  Ixxlge  ( Wounds  of  Civil  War)  and  Greene  {OrUmda 
Furioso  and  various  prose  works).    It  does  not  appear  to  be  used  by  Peele. 

IV,  iii,  147.    *  O  Lord  God,  take  my  soul  into  Thy  hands '. 

IV,  iii,  148-^MI.    '  O  Lord  of  Sabaoth,  may  my  innooence  come  to  light '. 

IV,  iii,  l(f8,    That,  i.e.  tliat  wl^c^. 


NOTES  703 

?»  i  M«    Fw  to  dweri :  another  ii»tanoft  of  Che  irdude  infioitjye. 
▼•  U  81.    Triumph :  For  the  accentuation  cf.  Ill,  i,  34  and  1.  2S3  below. 
▼•  I,  88.    Carry  not  thai  conceit :  do  not  imagine. 
^  I,  87f  88.     Vital  blood  ;  bloody  banquet :  see  Introduction,  p.  689. 
Vf  X  M.    The  metre  seems  to  demand  the  pronunciation  CoU/n.  here,  cf. 
modem  English  '  .Colo'gne ' ;  but  in  1.  79  below  we  have  O/ttsn,  as  usual 
in  this  play.    I  doubt  whether  anv  inference  as  to  various  authorship  can 
be  drawn  from  this  apparent  difnrence  in  pronunciation. 

▼•  L  98.  Objects  For  this  word  Elze  suggests  aspect ;  but  the  meaning  given 
in  the  Nem  English  DicHomuy  under  Object,  I,  3,  b,  *  something  whidi  on 
being  seen  excites  a  particular  emotion ',  exactly  fits  this  passage. 

▼•  i,  75.    ChiUhren :  a  trisyUable. 

T»  !•  188.  Rose-corance.  Cf.  note  on  III,  iL  133.  Elxe  notes  that  *  in  Ger* 
many  a  "  Rosenkrans  **  served  as  a  symbol  of  virginity  and  therefore  in 
old  popular  songs  it  often  denotes  maidenhead  itself '. 

▼•  1, 188.  Count  not  of  a  dignify,  Elze  suggests  'count  it  of  a  dignify,  i.e. '  I 
think  it  a  disnity '.  But  this  seems  to  me  a  misunderstanding  of  the 
passaf  e^  whida  means.  I  take  it,  *  I  do  not  take  account  of  my  dignity '. 
See  New  English  Dichonary  under  Count,  S,  *  to  think  much,  or  little,  of, 
to  care  for ',  and  cf.  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  II,  i,  63  :  no  man  coueUs  of 
her  beauty, 

V9  i,  186.  Alphonso :  This  form  occurs  only  in  this  line  and  in  1.  4x5  below. 
Elsewhere  we  have  Alphonsus. 

Vt  U  181-8.    See  Introduction,  p.  689. 

▼»  I,  848b    Secrets :  a  trisyUable. 

▼•  U  878.  JustfuL  This  word  occurs  nowhere  in  Chapman's  plays,  and 
the  repetition  rightful,  fustful,  is  very  much  in  Peele's  style. 

▼•  I,  880.  The  Princes :  i.e.  Saxon,  Tner  and  Brandenburg,  who  have  just 
defeated  Richard  and  Collen. 

▼•  i  886-8.    The  repetition  of  victory  in  these  lines  is  in  Peele's  manner. 

▼•  U  868-84.  The  condition  imposed  upon  the  Emperor,  his  acceptance  of 
it,  and  Alexander's  mimler  en  him  thereafter  with  the  intent  as  sending 
his  soul  to  hell,  all  find  a  close  parallel  in /MJ^H^ilton  (Nash,  Worhs,yolAi, 
pp,  325-6,  McKerrow's  edition).  A  similaijstory  occurs  in  the  German  novel, 
Stmpiieissimus.  already  referred  to,  I,  i,  14,  p.  0.  Langbaine's  references 
in  this  connexion  are  to  works  published  too  late  to  be  the  source  of  this 
passage. 

▼•  It  887.  Take  my  heels :  The  usual  idiom  is  *  take  to  one's  heels ' ;  but  this 
phrase  occurs  m  Comedy  of  Errors,  I,  ii,  94,  and  CymbeUne,  V,  iii,  67. 

▼•  C  846.  The  coasts :  Elze  says  *  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  coasts  the  poet 
has  been  thinking  of ' ;  but  coasts  may  mean  '  tract ',  or  *  region '  which 
is  probably  the  sense  here.    See  Nem  English  Dictionary,  sub  Coast,  6,  c. 

▼•  i.  Mi    My  lord :  i.e.  Trier. 

▼•  I,  868.  Menmtiades :  Patrodus.  The  reference  is  to  Achilles'  slaughter 
of  twelve  Trojan  captives  upon  the  pyre|of  Patrodus,  Iliad,  XXIII,  zyw. 

▼•  U  886-8.  Robertson,  op.  -cit,  p.  129,  calls  attention  to  a  j>araUel  in  Titus 
Andronicus,  V,  i,  65  ;  complots  of  mischief,  treason,  villofnes. 

▼•  It  480.  Robertson,  p.  127,  cites  this  line  as  showing  Peele's  trick  of  repe- 
tition. 

▼•  it  448-8.  Cf.  Laocoon  ardens  summa  decurrit  ab  arce  {Aeneid,  II,  41). 
Troy's  overthrow  is,  of  course,  the  wooden  hocse. 

¥tf  i,  460.  Phalaris :  the  tyrant  of  Agrigentum,  infamous  for  his  hollow 
bull  of  brass,  in  which  he  roasted  his  victims  alive.  He  is  mentioned 
by  Phidar,  Pytkia,  I,  185. 

▼»  I,  471*  474r6.  The  barbarous  mode  of  mmishment  described  here  seems 
to  have  been  common  in  Germany  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  to  have  endured 
even  into  the  eighteenth  century.  Elze  refers  to  Gruelin,  Abhandlung 
von  den  besonderen  Rechten  der  juden,  f  35  (TJibingen,  1785),  who  sa^ 
'  that  in  former  times  Jews  guilty  of  theft  were  in  many  places  hanged  by 
the  feet  or  toes  between  two  dogs.  Jurists  were  divided  as  to  the  legality 
pf  the  practice,  ai)4  in  Gruelii^'s  times  it  h^  been  aba9idoiie4.    See  $|^q 


704   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


i 


Qaestorp,  Grundsitu  der  deutschm  peinlichen  Ricklia,  voL  i,p.  89  (IMpdi 
X794)- 

TEXT  NOTES 

There  is  but  one  old  edition^  of  AlphonsitSf  that  published  by  MostAej  m 
X654.  I  jeler  to  this  edition  ms  Q.  The  play  was  first  reprinted,  with  an 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Kari  Elce,  Leip^,  1867.  Elze  took  very  eon- 
siderable  liberties  with  his  text,  often  altering  or  omitting  words  without 
comment  or  real  justification.  I  call  attention  to  some  of  the  more  noticeable 
of  his  changes  in  the  following  notes,  referring  to  his  edition  as  £. 

Alfhonsus  next  appeared  iaThe  Comedies  and  Tragedies  of  George  Chapman, 
Lonaon,  187^.  This  is  a  professedly  exact  reprint  of  the  quarto,  and  is  on 
the  whole  fairly  reliable.  I  have,  however,  noted  a  few  errors.  I  refer  to 
this  edition  as  P. 

In  1874  Alphonsus  appeared,  for  the  last  time  up  to  the  present  date,  in 
The  Worhs  of  George  Chapmain^Plays,  London,  1874-  The  editor,  R.  H. 
Shepherd,  follows  E.  so  closely  that  his  work  possesses  no  independent  value. 
Where  necessary  I  shall  refer  to  this  edition  as  S. 

The  most  puuding  feature  of  the  text  of  Alph»i%sMS  consists  in  the  Gennan 
speeches.  Tnese  seem  to  have  been  originally  oonmosed  in  a  fairly  oorxect 
High  German,  except  the  speeches  of  the  *  Boors ',  for  which  see  the  Intro- 
duction, p.  691,  and  an  occasional  Low  German  word.  The  original  German 
was  barbarously  mangled  by  Moseley's  printer,  and  any  attempt  at  restora- 
tion is  confronted  with  serious  difficulties,  since  it  is  not  always  possible  to 
decide  whether  the  mistakes  in  the  text  are  due  to  the  printer  or  to  the  author. 
On  the  whole  I  have  followed  £lze*s  lead  in  this  matter,  departing  from  his 
reading,  however,  where  it  seemed  that  in  his  desire  to  secure  correct  German 
he  was  altering  what  was,  perhaps,  the  orimnal  text.  My  aim  has  been  to 
restore,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  original  German  as  I  conceive  it  to  have 
been  written,  since  the  very  mistakes,  if  they  are  the  errors  of  the  author, 
may  throw  light  upon  the  question  of  the  authorship.  In  this  restoratioa 
I  have  been  greatly  aided  by  the  friendly  advice  of  my  colleague,  Dr. 
G.  M.  Priest,  of  Princeton  University,  to  whom  my  special  thanks  are  due. 
In  the  following  notes  I  reproduce  exactly  all  German  words  and  phrases 
altered  in  my  text,  so  that  the  reader  may  determine  for  himself  how  far  my 
changes  are  justified.  I  have  published  a  careful  study  of  the  text  of  this 
play  in  Anglia,  vol.  xxx,  pp.  349-379,  to  which  the  student  is  referred  for 
further  information,  especially  for  criticism  of  the  changes  introduced  into 
the  text  by  Elze. 

DRAMATIS  PXRSONJS 

This  list  appears  in  Q.,  where  Lorenzo  appears  as  Lorento  de  Cipres;  E. 
emends  de  Cyprus,  In  I,  ii,  240,  the  same  character  is  spoken  of  as  Lorenw 
de  Toledo,  His  son  is  introduced  in  the  stage  direction  preceding  Act  I  as 
-  -      -.  |<3h  E.  h 


Alexander  de  Trif>es,  an  evident  misprint  for  Cipres  whidi  E.  has  corrected. 
Alexander  again  appears  in  the  sta^e  direction  after  I,  ii,  228,  and  in  III,  i,  4, 
as  Alexander  de  Toledo.    These  variations  point,  I  think,  to  a  revision  of  the 
play. 
In  Q.  the  play  is  divided  into  acts,  but  not  into  scenes. 

I»  i,  1.    Q.  Boy,  give  me  the  Master  nunciation  intended,  but  I  pre- 

Key  of  all  the  doors.  fer  not   to   emend   merely   to 

E.  omits  Boy.  regularize  the  metre. 

2.  Q.  Bxit  Alexder.  In  the  stage  direction  after 

6S.  Q*    unhoh'd.       E.    mUoohed,  this  line  E.  omits  the  word  ahfi. 

which  may  represent  the  pro-  60-8.   Q.    prints    as    two    lines, 

^  I  have  based  the  present  text  open  this  edition,  consolting  the  oomes  at  the  w**'^'*»tn 
(Mekme,  241)  and  the  British  Museum  (C  12 .  g.  6  and  644.  d.  50),  morWniiing 


andpunctuadon  as  usual.  Lowndes.  Mamtal,  voL  i,  p.  411,  notes  a  copy  of  this  play,  dating 
1648.  I  have  found  no  trace  of  this  and  fancy  it  must  be  a  misprint.  Throughout  tbass 
notes  I  havt  nied  CbreadflB  type  to  represent  the  black-)et(ec  of  the  od^nal. 


NOTES 


705 


ending  ardmmiy,  wfitUn.  E. 
alters  Whaes  this  to  What  is 
this,  It  se^ms  to  *t  seems,  and 

?:ints  as  three  lines  ending 
ushf  is,  written,  I  print  as 
three  lines,  but  reject  £.'s  ar- 
rangement and  his  alterations  of 
the  text. 

In  the  stage  direction  after 
1.  62  £.  prints  Lorenrn's  for  Q. 
his. 

68.  Q.  Una  arbusia  non  alit  duos 
Erithicos,  £.  emends  Unum 
arbusinm  ;  but  the  form  arbusta 
occurs  in  mediaoval  Latin,  see 
Thes,  Ling.  LaL  £.  also  emends 
erithacosy  noting  that  Q.  reads 
SfUhicus  ;  but  the  copies  at  the 
Bodleian  and  the  British  Museum 
have  Efithdcos, 

60.  The  Bodleian  copy  has  the 
misx>rint  own  for  down.  The 
British  Museum  copies  are  cor- 
rect. 

75-6.  Q*  prints  as  prose. 

116.  I  have  ventured  to  insert  the 
word  and  in  this  line.  Without 
it  the  metre  of  the  line  is  rougher 
than  seems  natural  in  the  case 
of  a  writer  usually  so  regular  as 
the  author  of  this  play. 

lS7-t4.  By  a  palpable  mistake 
Q.  assigns  this  speech  to  ^^ 
phon  [sus].  £.  emends,  giving  it 
to  Lorenso.  In  1.  127  Q.  has 
Bohemie.  The  pronunciation 
was  probably  dissyllabic,  Bemya, 
cf.  the  German,  Bohmen. 

147.  Q*  ten  tun.  £.  emends  ten 
tons.  1  print  ton,  but  perhaps 
tun  should  be  retained,  as  the 
reference  is  probably  to  measure 
rather  than  to  weight. 

lM-6.  Q.  prints  as  two  lines,  ending 
election,  next  £.  corrects.  Inl. 
154  Q*  reads  victorious,  which 
£.  retains.    But  the  epithet  ap- 

'  plied  to  Mentc,  whose  defeat  and 
captivity  have  just  been  men- 
tioned, IS  manifestly  absurd.  I 
suggest  vainglorioust 

171.  Q.  set  down.  S.  has  sit  fol- 
lowmg  an  ori^final  misprint  of 
£.  corrected  m  later  impres- 
sions. 

188*  Q>  iweniy  days.  E.  twenty 
hours,  identifying  the  poison 
with  that  mentioned  in  III,  i, 
3^8.  But  discrepancies  of  this 
kmd  should  not  be  removed 
from  the  tost  by  an  editor. 

C.D.W. 


184.  9.  This  an  infection.  S. 
This  ?  an  infection,  following  an 
unnecessary  emendation  by  £. 
rejected  in  later  impressions. 

190.  Q.  For  stirring,  £.  retains,  but 
suggests  From  stirring.  This  is 
unnecessary.  I  have  inserted 
the  stage  direction  after  this 
line. 

806.  Q.  renting;  perhaps  this 
variant  of  rending  should  be  re- 
tamed 

808.  Q.  To  put  them  out  of  doubt  I 
study  sure.  £.  alters  /  to  PU 
and  puts  a  semi-colon  after  sure, 
instead  of  the  comma  as  in  Q. 
These  chang^es  show,  I  think,  a 
complete  misconception  of  the 
passage.  See  note,  p.  695,  and 
my  comment  on  Eize's  change 
in  the  article  ixi.Anglia,yci.  xzx. 

808.  £.  inserts  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

814.  I  follow  £.  in  beginning  a 
new  scene  after  this  line. 
I,  li.  89.    Q.    Chanedor   of  GaUia. 

87.  Q*  Chancelour  of  ItaUe.  £. 
reads  in  1.  20  Chancellor  of  Italy  : 
in  1*  37  Chancellor  of  Gallia. 
But  such  mistakes  (see  note, 
p.  69s)  should  only  be  pointed  out 
by  an  editor,  not  removed  from 
the  text. 

48«  Q.  Empress.    £.  emperess* 

88.  Q'  /  thtnk  he  never  said  prayer. 
£.  /  tkifih,  he  n^er  said  prayers. 

166.  Q.  your  Sister.  E.  your 
daufMer.  E.'s  emendatiooi  is, 
no  doubt,  ooirecty  but  possibly 
the  Q.  reading  points  to  an 
earlier  form  of  the  play  in  which 
Hedwig  was  the  Duke  of  Sax- 
ony's sister,  not  his  daughter 
as  now. 

100.  Q.  And  Daughters  Ktng^.  E. 
changes  And  to  His. 

178.  £.  inserts  the  stage  direction 
in  this  line. 
.    101.  In    the    stage    direction    E. 
alters  Pals  [grave]  to  Palatine. 

818.  Q*  their  resolutions.  E.  his 
resolutions ;  but  the  reference 
is  to  both  the  competitors. 

886.  Q.  the  Winds.  E.  the  minds. 
£.*s  emendation  must  be  ac- 
cepted, as  the  context  will 
hardly  allow  a  figurative  use  of 
winds  for  passions. 

886.  Q.  for  age  and  age.  E.  for 
aye  and  aye. 

88L  Q.  wthnaffig.  E.  wtfmhafftig. 

zz 


7o6   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


U,U90.  I  insert  Bx&mU  omnes  here 
in  acoordanoe  with  I  i^g,  lei  us 
Uaoe  this]  place,  and  with  £. 
b^nn  a  new  scene. 
U,  ii,  li.^  £•  adds  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line.  I  have  added 
similar  directions  in  U.  20,  23, 
26,  36,  4a,  46,  47,  and  71. 
After  1.  72  for  Q.  She  opens,  etc 
I  read  Hedwig  drams,  opens,  etc 

Tl*  I  have  added  the  stage  direc- 
tion. 

8»-M.  Q.  flee  dodh,  dMi  iit  Ite 
k0i&  girtiwuifthi 
MMn  Got  ill  dMi  dk  Sogiiioh 
maator,  dan  dloh. 

I  follow  E.'s  emendations. 

94.  Q-  Country  fashion.  £.  cowh 
trys  fashion. 

110.  Q.  fnock  her  in  her  mirth.  £. 
emends  your  mirth. 

lit.  £.  suspects  some  OGRuption 
in  this  line,  and  the  Nem  English 
Dictionary  gives  no  meaning  for 
'  leave '  that  will  fit  this  passage. 
Mr.  Daniel  suggests  beoirs  it,  i.e. 
carries  it  awa^ ;  cf .  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  11,  iii,  227. 

116-8.  Q.  Chiedigef  InwUn. 
Dmi  dioh.  muft  ioh  ame 
Undt     ra    aahOTdwi    gMnaoht 


£.  emends  mim  and 
W-4.  Q.  By  UrlMf  Inwlin  nim  M 

aU  fu  gntti 
Bi  iat  die  »«§«■«*  mauler  Viid 

gehraoolie. 
Bwer  gnaden  weiffti  woll  ea  lit 

mjF  aia  groaaa  ■«*hfi"<i*- 

£.  emends:   Kebea,  nampt, — 

which  seems  unnecessary — gtttia 

— I  prefer  fttt»— fehnuioh  and 

wteta — ^I  prefer  waiaa  ea. 

196-7.  Q.  Onadigea  Irawlin  varga- 

M  nma»  Ioh  wiUa  nimmamehr 

thnan.    £.   emends   mir'a   and 

wffl'a. 

198*  Q*  prints  upsy  in  black  letter. 

196.  Q.  vargaM  mlraa  ioh  willa. 

£.  emends  mir*!*  ioh  will'i. 
198-49.  Q.  For  wahr  kain  aohaadt 
Onadigar    hoohgahomar    Fniat 

undt  harr 
Wan  ioh  konta  ao  vil  aogUaoh 

ipraohan  Ioh  wolt  ewer  Onadan. 
For  wahr  ain  lllta  gaban,  ioh 

holla  abar  Job  woSk  ainmahl 
80  fial  tanan  daaa  Dia  mioh 

vaatrhan  aoIL 

E.    emends    Fttrwahr,    fttrat» 
ktaia— I  read  kfloaia— Mrwahi; 


and  aia  and  fwitahan.    I 
further  waon  for  ipan*  and  vial 
for  vil  in  IL  139-40. 
144.  Q.  O  excellent  young  Pfinee, 
I    take    0    excelieni    as   the 
ejaculation,    which    oocuia   re- 
peatedly in  this  play,  see  II,  ii, 
309 ;  II,  iii,  66. 
196-7.  Q'  reads  woU  in  both  lines. 

£.  emends  woihL 
168-70.  Q.  Waaa  ihr  dnrlaAcUit- 
keit  daaa  will  daaa  will  OMin 
valtar  nndt 
Waaa  main  vatiar  will  daimit 
iok 


The  text  is  plainly  cuuupt. 
'    I>iiroblauditigkait,  - 


£.  reads 

aerts  will  after  this  wocd,  and 

cancels   the   second    daaa   wHt 

Elainly  a  printer's  repetitioa.  if 
ave  used  the  modem  tons 
Dorehlaaetatigkaitv  and  alteced 
darmil  to  damit. 

178.  Q*  feverL  £.  to  avert.  The 
Nem  English  Dictionary  gives 
'  evert '  m  the  sense  of  '  turn 
aside*. 

188.  Q.  This  day  this  breath  of  Ufe. 
£.  his  breath.  Mr.  Daniel  sug- 
gests the  breath.  Neither  change 
seems  necessary  as  this  brem 
of  life  means  '  this  vital  air '. 

199.  Q.  his  Hoes  reproach.  £. 
reads  his  lif^s  reproach,  but 
suggests  the  reading  '  his  life 
reproach '  (probably  a  misprint 
for  '  reproaiched  '),  dttng  Meas- 
ure for  Measure,  V,  i,  425-6. 

819.  £•  wrongly,  I  thiiik,  omits 
the  question  mark  at  the  end  of 
this  line. 

98L  Q.  selected.    E.  elected. 

94L  Q.  With  pierifd.  £.  cornets 
Which  pier^d.  a.  Byron's  Tm- 
eedy,  FV,  ii,  256. 

969.  Q.  What?  mhat  the  Empress 
accessary  to?  U,  alters  to  VrM? 
mas  the  empress  accessary  to*t? 
The  only  change  necessary  is 
the  shiftmg  of  the  first  question 
mark  and  the  modernisation  of 
lo  to  loo  as  in  the  text. 

967.    Q.  That  9.  the  greatest. 
£.  That  the  nieu  greatest 

879.  Q.  And  in  my  heart.  £.  That 
in  my  heart.  A  better  sugges- 
tion is  Mr.  Daniel's  As  in  my 
heart ;  but  I  doubt  if  any  change 
is  needed. 

917.  Q.itisemmgh.    E.*luMOMft. 

99L  Q.  Dutch  bomrt  as  i 


NOTES 


W 


schelms  and  gold  to  tempt  them. 
B.  notes  that  the  line  is  corrupt, 
but  suggests  no  change.  I 
think  as  is  plainly  a  misprint 
for  are  ;  to  may  be  a  mistake 
for  doth.  Mr.  Daniel  suggests 
with  instead  of  and. 

8M.  Q.  by  youf  Highness,  This 
may  be  a  Germanism.  Mr. 
Daniel,  however,  suggests  that 
'  by  has  been  caught  from  the 
next  line,  and  that  we  should 
read  m  or  with. 

no.  Q.  This  one  nayl  helps.  I 
am  strongly  of  the  opinion  that 
we  should  read  Thus  one,  etc,, 
a  change  which  Mr.  Daniel  ap- 
proves. 

Ml.  Q.  Such  credulous  young  mo- 
vices  to  their  death?  £.  omits 
their.  As  often  the  question  mark 
denotes  an  exclamation. 

846.  I   follow   E.    in   marking   a 
new  scene  after  this  line. 
A  iilf  ^    Q*  pastimes,    E.  pasttme, 

88.  After  this  line  Q.  hte  a  sta^e 
direction.  Enter  two  Bowrs.  This 
is  an  anticipation  of  the  proper 
entrance  after  1.  32,  and  t  have 
therefore  cancelled  it. 

88-0.  Q-  Kom  hler  hani  wore  biit 
dow,  wwiimb  blit  dow  10 
tnwriek  P  biu  froliek  kta  wel 
gelt  verdieneB,  wir  wil  Uiii  bey 
potti  taweandt  todt  ichlagen. 
Let  niioh  die  briefle  fehen. 

£.  emends  wor  for  wore, 
kaiiit  for  kea»  and  tel  [i.e. 
fieQ  for  weL 

88.  Before  this  line  Q.  has  only 
the  stage  direction.  Reads  the 
Letter,  without  any  name  of  the 
reader ;  but  from  1.  44,  where 
Q.  has  Jerich  reads,  I  take  it 
tnat  he  should  do  so  here. 

8iMl.  Q.  Hani  and  Jeriek,  metn 
Hebe  treinde,  fob  Mtte  lasaet  ei 
bey  enob  bleiben  in  geheim,  and 
loblaget  den  KngeTlander  la 
todt 

E.  emends  ueineb  freiindea  and 
ftagelUnder. 

48.  Q.  friend.    E.  emends /fMriis. 

44-S.  Q.  Hear  weiler,  den  er  iit 
kein  bowre  nloht,  er  iat  ein 
Ynnoker,  nnd  hatt  fiel  gelf  ond 
Uelnofhen  bey  iloh. 

B.  retains  Hear — ^it  should, 
I  think,  be  Hdr* — and  alters  den 
to  denn,  gelt  to  goH— I  prefer 
flMb    i.e.    money — and    reads 


Ueinotea,  where  I  would  prefer 
kieinodien.  i.e.  jewels. 

48.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction  after  weiter. 

48-80.  Q.  ibr  iolt  sokihe  gelegen- 
beit  mcbt  venahmen,  ond  wan 
ihr  getban  habet,  ioh  will  eneh 
lagen,  was  ioh  Inr  ein  gater 
Karl  bin,  der  enob  raht  gegeben 
babe. 

E.  alters  venahmen  to  trer- 
lasmen— I  prefer  venlitunen — 
ibr  to  Ibn  fLe.  'ibr  ee'] 
— ^which  seems  unnecessary — 
and  reads  will  ioh  for  ioh  will, 
kerl  for  karl,  and  rath  for  raht. 

88-100.  In  this  long  passage  of 
German,  I  cite  the  onginalonly 
where  it  differs  from  £.'s  text  or 
mine,  disregarding  mere  varia* 
tions  of  speiUng. 

64.  Q.  nioh  for.    E.  nloht  ftlr. 
Q.  lee.    E.  lieh. 

8ft.  Q.  and  E.  dar.    I  prefer  dor. 

88.  Q.  ilapperment  E.  nvper- 
nient. 

57.  Q.  inter.    E.  gnten. 

58.  Q.  divelL  £.  d1i?el  a  Low 
German  form. 

00.  Q.  hoftertiok.    E.  retains  this, 

but  I  prefer  hofliirtiff. 
81.  Q.  ielleaoh.    E.  toll  enoh. 
88.  Q.  bried.    £.  berttrt 
08.  Q.  Torrahten.    E.  ferrihter. 

I  prefer  verriither. 
04.  Q.  and  E.  81a    to.    I    prefer 

the  Low  German  form  tan*    So 

also  in  1.  80. 

07.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

08.  Q.  dor.  £.  dar.    I  follow  Q. 
00.  Q.    and    E.    darto.    I    read 

dortan. 

70.  Q.  gene.    E.  gebe.   I  read  gey. 

75.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

78.  Q.  WUtnd.    B.  inita. 

80-1-8.  Q.  and  E.  dar.  I  read 
dor. 

81-8.  I  insert  the  stage  directions. 

88.  Q.  aDe  ndt    E.  allee  mit. 

88-7.  Q*  prints   as  prose.   E.  in- 
serts quidem  after  Hercules. 

88.  Q.  kehre.  E.  webre^  probably 
influenced  by  wehreii»  I.  91,  but 
the  change  does  not  seem  neces- 
sary. 

00-1.  Q.  labendig.  B.  lebendlg. 
Q.  mni  iifli  meren:  B.  mom 
vuk  ^Miftij  nyiehreD* 

08-0.  I  insert  the  stage  directions. 

08.  Q.  karle.    B.  kerl 
flfbt    £.  Ooht 


8: 


ToS    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


97.  Q.  and  E.  dir.    I  read  dor. 

99.  Q.w«t    £.wteL    Ireadwtit 

100.  Q.  dor.    £.  dar. 

Q.  ftiUiohtaf.    £. liUl ate ioh. 
104.  Q.  aterb.    £.  atirb. 
100.  Q.  ly  dtoh  ta.    £.  Ffni  dlch 


Q.  dain.  £.  dainaii.  I  have 
left  the  bad  grammar  ol  the 
original  unimproved. 

100.  Q.  iMt  Hi.    £.  Laaat  ima. 

100.  Q.  wcSMbM.    £.  aobetaB. 

HO.  Q.  bisium  more,  £.  histu 
mote, 

114.  Q.  That  thou  ati  so  mttck  ms 
are  wUnessss. 

£.  For  that  thou  art  so  much  m^re 
mituessss. 

164i  I  insert  the  stage  direetion. 

liO.  Q.  has  only  Exeunt^    I  add 
the  rest  of  the  stage  direction. 
m.  i  10.    Q.  miihor  end.    £.  neAer 
end* 

17.  Q.  Exit.  I  read  Exit^ma, 
since  Alexander  does  not  leave 
the  stage  till  1.  21. 

29.  Q.  SMuh  bowls  of  RHnfal- 
£.  puts  a  comma  alter  Schiuh ; 
I  tikt  it  to  be  a  form  of  Schety- 
hen,  to  pour  out.  In  my  study 
of  the  text  of  this  play  in  AngUa, 
vol.  XXX,  p.  364, 1  suggested  the 
reading  Rheif^pfaU,  out  now 
prefer  to  retain  the  old  text. 

40.  Q.  ei  gelt  £.  'a  gMt  I  read 
ea  ^t 

40.  Q.  fl»lii  Got  aa  ioU  mlr  en 
Hebe  drunk  aeia. 

£.  emends  Bun,  ein,  liaber, 
and  tranok.  I  am  not  sure  that 
one  should  emend  the  grammar 
of  the  Prince's  German ;  he  may 
have  been  meant  to  speak  in- 

.  correctlv.  I  have  therefore  al- 
lowed llabe  to  stand. 

00.  Q.  Tfoml  ouL  £.  Drawl  out. 
This  change  is  for  the.  worse ; 
irowl  is  a  mere  variant  of '  troll '. 

64.  Q.  Oain..   £.  Aim. 

66.    Q-  spohen.    £.  spohe. 

07.  Q.  fallace.  £.  fallacy.  But 
faUace  occurs  in  Caxton  and 
Hakluyt ;  see  New  English 
Dictionary. 

01.  Q'  dis  nieht  ban  mae  aehlapen. 
£.  dif  Djudit  bey  me  aehlapen. 

09.  Q*  miiti  begiartB.  £.  nioht 
begeren.    I  read  begehren. 

00.  Q.  unto.    £.  to. 

100.  Q.  We  drink.  £.  emends 
W^tt  drinh. 


101.  Q.  say.    E.  says. 

110.  Q-  A  hdpse  bowr  maikins. 

B,.  And  hUpsch  ftogr-mfltWiif, 
I  read  boor  for  bowr. 

117.  £.  inserts  the  stage  directioD. 

106.  Q.  Away  Marshal  bring  them. 
EMwayfand  bring  thsM,manhali 

100.  Q.  an  edge.  £.  on  edge.  See 
note,  p.  699. 

100.  9.  holds.    £.  hoUL 

141.  Q.  schinkA.    £.  sddrdun. 

140.  Q.  epeO,  daonsan. 

£.  spiel,  dftatmi,  te.  txB- 
MO.  £.  says  that  Q.  reads 
dMmtMi;  but  the  copies  in  the 
Bodleian  and  the  Brit.  Mus.  read 
dausen. 

160.  I  insert  the  stage  directioa. 

161.  Q.  skelt  bowie.  £.  "0  gatti 
bowr.    I  read  '0  gilt.  bMUt. 

lOe.  Q.  flAin.    £.  flftin. 

Q.  hdpe  mich  dooh  aln  Jnag- 

fmw  dnmok. 
£.  emends  help   mloli  doekl 

Cy  Inngfraw,  dzinek ! 
100.  Q.  Bs  gelt  gnter  fosDodt   «iB 

trolookan  drink. 
£.   reads  fromidt,   frOUiolMB 

and  tmnok.    I  read  gitt  lor  gelt. 
104.  Q.  flgnu  [not  Baiib  as  in  P.] 

and  fmndt 

176.  Q.  does  not  give  the  name  of 
the  speaker.  £.  rightly  assigns 
it  to  Pakd.^  l.e.  the  Palsgrave. 
Q.  Wkas  ist  wkas  ist  vrat  wiD 
yon  ant  [not  mit  as  in  P.] 
maehen,  £.  reads  Was 
was  .  .  .  wbai— I  prefer 
and  mit 

177.  Q.  gab  .  .  .  gein  drink.  £. 
reads  gebt  gam  triaidcaiu 

179.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

100.  Q.  Saxon  and  Palsgrave,  this, 
etc.  I  take  the  first  words  as 
an  ejaculation,  and  punctuate 
acconiingly. 

100.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

100-9.  Q.  ends  these  lines  with 

rrsaf    and  well   respectively, 
prints  as  three  lines,  ending 

youfself,    metMnhs,    well.    The 

rhyme  shows  that  a  couplet  is 

required. 
190.  Q.   schuce.     £.    juice';    but 

it    IS    plainly   a    misprint    for 

'scuse  ,  i.e.  excuse. 
000.  £.  inserts  not  after  is. 
004.  Q.  Bride-Chamber.    £.  bridal 

chamber. 
840.  Q.     Princess.      £.    emends 

princes.    For  aU  at  0/1^0   Mr. 


NOTES 


709 


Danldl  suggests  att  and  one,  but 

no  diange  seems  necessaiy. 
M8.  I    have   inserted    the    stage 

direction,     AUxander     conceals 

fniiteelff  e(c* 
08.  E*  inserts  Oien  before  your. 

After  this  Une  £.  begins  a  new 
r  scene.  There  is  no  change  of 
i       place,  however,  and  I  think  the 

action  is  continuous. 
888.  Before  this  line  Q.  has  Enter 

Alphonsus,  to  which  £.  adds  and 

after  him  Alexander,    But  this 

does  not  dear  up  the  difficulty. 

If  11.  289-90  are  spoken  by  Al- 

Ehonstts,  as  in  Q.,  it  is  he  who 
as  overheard  uie  '  plot ',  and 
not  Alexander.  But  the  follow- 
ing passage,  11.  295-314,  shows 
that  Alphonsus  is  ignorant  of 
the  details  of  the  plot  while 
Alexander  knows  them.    It  is 

Slain,  therefore,  that  it  is  Alexan- 
er  who  has  played  the  eaves- 
dropper, and  I  have  therefore 
inserted  a  stage  direction  to  this 
effect  after  I.  248.  The  direc- 
tion in  the  Q.,  Enter  Alphorisus, 
is  an  anticipation  of  his  proper 
entrance  after  1.  290,  to  which 

\  place  I  have  removed  the  direc- 
tion. As  a  result  of  this  anti- 
cipation, 11.  289-90  are  mistaken- 
ly assigned  in  Q.  to  Alphonsus. 
I  have  inserted  the  proper  stage 
direction  and  transferred  these 
lines  to  Alexander,  thus  clearing 
up,  I  think,  a  passage  that  in 

'.    the  ori^al  was  confused  and 

^contradictory. 

887-8.  Q.  prints  Intends  .  .  . 
chambers  as  one  line. 

880.  Q.  He  hath.    E.  Hi^s, 

878.  The  line  is  imperfect ;    per- 
haps me  has  been  lost  at  the  end. 
1.  Q.  ^gestus.    E.  jEgisthus. 
L    Q.    your    friends.    E.    you 
friends. 

406.  The     stage     direction     was 
added  by  B.    Mr.  Daniel  suggests 
f       that  Thus  and  thus,  1.  408,  imply 
blows. 

il8.  The  line  Is  imperfect ;    per- 
haps a  dissyllable,  like  '  guUt- 
r      less ',  has  been  lost  before  head. 

418.  I    have   inserted    the    stage 
direction. 
!▼•    U    10.    Q.    Crossier   Staff.    E. 
eroMter's  staff. 

98.  I  hare  inserted  the  word  betote 
in  th«  stage  dfreotioo. 


88.  Q.  8wt  iorh  IIOlMt  doiflBr  lAo 
Wirt  dow  dioieiUnuUL 
£.  8iff  dooht  Hebe  dooht«r,  wo 
Wirt  dow  dienlbt  moht  f 
I  print  toohier,  wmt,  and  dn. 

00.  Q.  All  who  who  lolt  ioh  Mm. 
'    E.  emends  wo,  wo,  and  wiii  f 

01.  Q.  Wert  dow  lUrin...  Wirt  dow 

...  ▼onohrookoiL 
B.  Wtftdow.ifleiB  ...  wvtdow 
...  ¥onolirookeiL 
I  prefer  Wirtt  do  in  both  cases. 
08-4.  g.  Ioh  hi  milt  iidM  ge- 
ttitaii  dim  dif  Ioh  wott  lUrin 
geililiflne    hiboiif   ibnr     nmb 
mlttenulit  kim  miliier  bride- 
groom bindt  iiiliflei  .  .  .  ge- 
tmrnooL 

£.  emends  hib  aloht  mdirit 
dim.  lUaliL  fonhlilBiL  iber. 
mtttaniioht,  moiner,  indt  Mhli- 
flotf  gotoiniiel. 

I  follow  £.  except  for  some 
slight  variations  in  spelling. 
118.  Q.  Hit  mitt  bo  dhr  ioSjaflii. 
E.  emends  hitt  aieht  bei  .  .  . 
geortiltiiin 
118.  Q.  Bi  gefelt  .  .  .  sum  ngim 
.  .  .  hibai  won  0erlnlet 

E.  emends  gifeUt,  la  ngm. 
hib  Of  wol  gtHttot 
I  print  gofillt,  wohl  geltthlet 
118.  Q.  Lib  ioh  Un  you  gatbli- 
pen.  £.  emends  H^  and  b^ 
118.  Q.  I  left  wirun  inlt  ihn 
fnilpni.    £.     emends    By    loC» 
folt,  fmgw  P 
I  print  Bi  Hot,  and  Ihr'i. 
184.  Q.   Dii  hifto  gethm  ordor 
hollo  mioh  dor  4MIL 
E.    emends  odor  kolo,  dflvoL 
I  print  hiita  -  hiit  do. 
188.  E.  adds  the  stage  direction. 
166.  Q*  No  Saxon  hnom,    etc.  E. 
reads  No,  Saxon,  no,  etc.    I  see 
no  reason  for  this  change. 
178.  I  have  added  Saxon  and  ike 
others    [i.e.    all    but    Richard, 
CoUen,  and  their  men]  to  the 
stage  direction. 
104.  Q.  remedie.    P.  misprints^ 

medie. 
817.  After  this  line  E.  marks  a 
new  scene. 
nr,  IL  In  the  stage  direction  at  the 
beginning  of  the  scene  Q.  reads 
the  Couch.    E.  alters  a  Couch. 
88.  Q.  th'unpaftial  fates  afflict.     E. 
alters  the  impartial  fates  inflict. 
For  this  use  of  afflia  cf.  V,  i,  187. 
n.  Q*he  pouUe^    E.  Death  points. 


710   ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


16.  I  maik  this  Hue  as  an  aside. 
S.  alters  the  Q.  kmew,  retained 
by  £.,  to  knom ;  bat  knt»  is 
the  sid>ji]nctive  in  a  condition 
contrary  to  fact ;  see  Abbott, 
Shakespeofum  Grammar,  §  361. 

•8b  Q.  foins,  £.  pain,  to  agree 
with  1.  77  below,  but  the  change 
is  unneoessaxy. 

Q,  Live  long  m  happiness  to 
revenge  my  death,       .  . 
Upon  my  Wife  and  aU  the  English 

bfood» 
My  Lord  of  Saxanie  your  Grace 
hath  cause. 

E.  alters  to  read  happiness  I 
To  revenge  .  .  .  hrood,  •  •  . 
cause.  This  seems  to  me  an 
unwarranted  interferenoe  with 
the  text.  All  that  is  needed  is 
a  dash  aftctr  cause  to  show  that 
the  speech  is  broken  ofi  here. 
Probably  Alphonsus  pretends  to 
swoon. 

After  this  line  £.  inserts  the 
stage    direction    stabs    him.    I 
place  this  after  1.  90,  and  insert 
drawing  here. 
t.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

Of.  Q.  so  gating.    £.  gating  so. 

118.  £.  adds  bearing  off  Ments  to 
the  stage  direction. 

148.  After  this  line  £.  marks  a 
new  scene.  An  interval  of  forty 
weeks,  U.  p-io,  has  elapsed,  so 
that  logicaUy  scene  iii  should  go 
with  the  fifth  act. 
▼,  iii,  0-18.  Q.  daare  vattar  .  .  . 
dis  .  .  .  88.  weekan  .  .  .  dmio- 
k0t  .  .  .  48.  jahr  .  .  .  tin  litta 
.  .  •  ne  vsntohn*  E.  emends 
deir,  diae  [i.e.  dieae]  ^iertiig 
waokan  (suggested  by  the  40 
fafar  of  I.  10),  dmikat,  Itttt,  and 
mich  vanttdm.  I  read  dis  (for 
this)^  dttnJrat,  and  me  viratahn  (for 
vwsiaben).  The  English  words 
which  dose  the  speech  are 
printed  in  Q.  in  black  letter. 
>he  mixture  of  English  and 
Gennan  in  Hadewick's  speeches 
in  this  scene  is  probably  inten- 
tionaL  I  retain  the  German 
form  Itttta,  Q.  titte,  before  pity, 
where  E.  reads  UtUe. 

88.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction. 

86.  Q.  aUyed.    P.  misprints  a  lyed. 

7D-4.  Q.  Ah  myiia  aaeta  .  .  . 
allarleiTaat  ...  I  praedae  main 
laaia  .  .  .  friaadlidh  ona^  good 


aaala  harte  id!  da  Iral  . 
left  .  .  .  dyne  aBarleifcirt 
.  *  .  da&  ioh  •  .  . 


nysa  .  >  . 

E.  emends  Aeh 
aUarUevaat,  vr*ytheo  [sie"],  lave, 
freindlich  an,  iweatheazt,  feeO  lbs 
truth,  least,  dain  aOocHavart 
child,  dain,  main,  stifBa  and  ar- 
barme.  I  have  kep4t  somewhat 
closer  to  the  original,  which 
occasionally  seems  aiming  to 
represent  a  German  pronuncia- 
tion of  English,  as  in  jtaada^ 
tnit*  and  sehild.  I  also  read 
damn  idi  for  dan  ich,  and  retain 
the  Q.  eriMrmet 

77-8.  Q.  doe  yow  aioallanda  .  .  • 
iaata  Edonart  yow  wooto.  (P. 
misprints  Iaata  and  swaate.)  E. 
emends  does  yooreiDalleiiGV  .  .  . 
SiiMa  Ednart,  yow  waai.  I  piint 
do  yow,^  Idava  Bduvt,  and  wait 
(for  weiist). 

88-4.  Q.  hiabocna  .  .  .  diiiek  .  .  . 
iltts  .  .  .  dat  hart  .  .  .  mil 
nokan.  £.  emends  hl^  boo, 
danok,  sitit.  iha  hart,  wol  loehaSi 
The  speech  is  a  hopeless  con- 
fusion of  German  and  English. 
I  print  denk,  iita,  dftt  liaart 
wohl  rftcban. 

91.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

94*-6.  Q.  0  myna  Vsttar .  .  .  myna 
IdDdt  .  .  .  fpraak  .  .  .  diekindt 
...  it  sou. 

£.  emends  mainVatter,  mdn 
Kindt,  ipeok,  dies  Kindt,  aa  aoD. 
I  print  da  (for  the)  Kind,  it 
aoll. 

117.  £-  inserts  this  between  is 
and  thine. 

118.  Q.  gave  .  .  .  dia  kiiid  isL 
E.  emends  g aba^  daa  Kindt  I 
print  da  Kind,  as  in  1.  95. 

18L  Q.  in  sainam  trona.  E.  al- 
ters to  in  dainam.  This  seems 
unnecessary. 

188.  Q.  /  will    E.  riL 

186.  Q.  ist  to  lata,  miser  anna 
Undt  ist  kOt 

E.  emends  is^t  too  latei  miser 
armaa  Khidt  is  kilPd.  I  retain 
the  German  ist  before  too. 

188-41.  Q.  ich  mark  .  .  .  ieh 
sholdt  .  .  •  mains  knee,  last 
.  •  .  taksa  *  .  .  bagidira. 

£.  reads  I  mark,  ioh  shonU, 
mataia  knia,  lalsa.    I  print  ieh 

1  I  have  been  milled  by  P.'t  w^aadaX 
leali.   The  Inie  leading  Is  r~ 


NOTES 


711 


maik,  ioh  ihOQU,  maiiie  knte* 
Ian,  and  basehi'i. 

147.  Q'  in  detnar  hendan. 

£.  emends  in  daina  handa. 

148.  E.  adds  the  stage  direction. 
14fMW.  Q.  Baboto  .  .  .  mooht  E. 

emends  Baliaot.  mdoht ! 

lilO.  Q.  newly  born-    £.  neohbom. 

176.  Q.  the  Father  and  the  Grand 
sires  heart.    E.  the  father's,  etc. 

m.  To  the  stage  direction  of  Q., 
Exeunt,    £.    adds    bearing    off 
the  dead  bodies. 
¥»  I,  S.    Q.  Sim  set.    E.  sunset.    I 
take  set  to  he  3^  verb. 

10.  Q.  spohen.    E.  spohe. 

14.  Mr.  Daniel  suggests  that  we 
should  add  on  the  walls  to  the 
stage  direction.  This  seems 
plausible,  as  Alphonsus  and  his 
party  probably  entered  '  above '. 

81  40,  44.  I  add  the  stage  direc- 
tions. 

86.  Q.  Vis.    E.  Videlicet. 

107.  Q*  Or  wherefore.  £.  0  where- 
fore.   This  seems  uncalled  for. 

180.  Q.Sh'haih.  E.Sh^s.  I  keep 
the  old  grammatical  form,  read- 
ing Sh'ath. 

188.  I  add  the  stage  direction. 

146.  Q.  curst  heart.  £.  cursed 
hearL  I  prefer  the  original  form 
with  its  implication, '  sl^ewish  '. 

160.  Here  and  in  1.  4x3  below  Q. 
has  Alphonso.  E.  alters  to  i4^ 
phonsus. 

187.  Q-  Afflicted,  speedy,  etc.  E. 
notes  that  Afflicted  seems  a  cor- 
ruption, but  suggests  no  change. 
Mr.  Brereton  suggests  A  strict 
and  speedy.  I  prefer  to  read 
Afflichng  in  the  sense  of  'in- 
flictina  *.    Cf.  IV,  u,  3a. 

888-0.  S.  prints  entrap  as  the  first 
word  of  1.  229 ;  but  I  prefer  to 
let  the  old  reading  stand,  since 
fictions  may  well  be  trisyllabic. 

866.  E.  suggests  reading  No<  that 
I  do  believe  it  steadfastly.    S.  in- 


serts now  after  /,  and  Mr.  Daniel 
suggests  not  after  do.  I  follow 
Q.,  which  seems  to  be^'quite  in- 
telligible. The  first  foot  shows 
syncopation. 

867.  I  add  the  stage  direction. 

888.  Q.  Empress.    £.  emperess. 

888.  Q.  Saxon  triumphs  over.  E. 
And  Saxon  triumphs  o'er.  This 
change  obliterates  the  old  ac- 
centuation, triumphs. 

814.  Q.  sfit  in*s  face.  E.  spit 
him  in  nis  face.  Thb  does  not 
seem  idiomatic  English. 

810.  E.  believes  this  verse  should 
be  assigned  to  Edward.  This 
is  possible;  but  I  prefer  to 
follow  Q. 

817.  S.  puts  a  dash  at  the  close 
of  this  line.  This  seems  an  im- 
provement on  the  period  of  Q. 

884.  E.  adds  the  stage  direction 
Stabs  him.  I  prefer  Kills  him, 
as  Alphonsus  never  never  speaks 

880.  Q*  You  have,  etc.  Mr.  Daniel 
suggests  Who  have,  etc.,  but  no 
change  seems  needed. 

842.  Q.  Alexander  haih  slain.  £. 
Alexanders  slain. 

847.  E.  adds  the  direction  Exit 
Brandenburg. 

880.  Q.  And  if.    £.  An*  if. 

401.  £.  gives  the  speech  Proceed 
to  Saxon.  I  follow  Q.  in  as- 
signing it  to  Brandenburg. 

417.  Q-  Twixt  jest  and  earnest  was 
made.    S.  omits  was. 

488.  Q.  nan^.  S.  Hu/ng.  I  pre- 
fer to  retam  the  old  form. 

460.  Q.  the  deceit  .  .  .  over.  E. 
my  deceit  .  .  .  o*er. 

481.  £.  omits  the  stage  direction 
of  Q.  Exit  Alex.  I  restore  it 
and  add  guarded. 

The  Q.  closes  the  play  with 
the  word  Finis,  omitted  by  E. 
There  is  no  direction  for  the 
final  exit  of  the  characters. 


REVENGE   FOR  HONOUR 

INTRODUCTION 

'  On  November  29,  1653,  R.Marriott,  an  enterprising  publisher  of 
the  Commonwealth  period,  enteired  in  the  Stationers*  Registers  seven* 
teen  plays  which  had  come  into  his  hands.  Among  these  was  '  The 
Paraside  or  Revenge  for  Honor  by  Henry  Glapthome '.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  Marriott  published  Revenge  for  Honour,  doubtless  the  same 
play  as  that  entered  in  the  Registers,  but  ascribed  the  authorship  to 
Chapman.  The  double  title  which  appears  in  the  entry  led  1^. 
Fleay  *  to  identify  this  play  with  one  licensed  by  Herbert,  May  27, 
1624,  for  the  Prince's  Company,  then  playing  at  the  Red  Bull,  under 
the  title  of  -The  Parracide. 

I  am,  as  a  rule,  inclined  to  look  with  suspicion  upon  the  identification 
of  pla3rs  merely  because  they  happen  to  have  the  same  or  similar 
titles,  but  the  entry  in  the  Registers  is  so  strong  a  link  between  the 
play  licensed  by  Herbert  and  that  published  by  Marriott  that  it  would 
seem  an  excess  of  scepticism  to  deny  the  probability  of  their  identity. 

The  question  of  the  authorship  of  this  play  is  the  fitst,  in  fact  the 
only  important;  question  that  demands  consideration.  In  itself  the 
play  is  so  slight,  so  unreal,  so  devoid  of  high  poetry,  or  true  charac- 
terization, that  it  might  well  pass  unnoticed  among  the  minor  products 
of  the  decadent  drama.  But  if  we  accept  Chapman's  authorship,  as, 
for  example.  Dr.  StoU  '  does,  we  are  forced  to  modify  very  considerably 
our  conception  of  Chapman  as  a  man  and  as  a  poet,  to  attribute  to 
him  a  versatility  in  style  and  tiechnic,  an  imitative  quality,  and  a 
disregard  of  the  ethical  aim  of  the  drama,  which  is  at  variance  with 
all  that  we  know  of  his  life  and  work.  For  his  authorship,  the  sole 
piece  of  objective  testimony  is  the  publisher's  assertion  made  twenty 
years  after  the  poet's  death.  I  have  spoken  above,  pp.  683-4,  of  the 
value,  or  lack  of  value,  of  such  assertions,  and  in  this  particular  case 
Marriott's  testimony  seems  to  me  quite  invalidated  by  the  fact  that 
he  had  formerly  described  the  play  as  by  Glapthome.  Had  the 
reverse  been  the  case,  had  Marriott  entered  the'  play  as  by  Chapman 
and  published  it  as  the  work  of  Glapthorne,  we  would  be  justified  in 

^  Biog.  Chron.,  voL  u,  i>.  326.  Herbert's  licenoe  is  reproduced  by  Fleay, 
LondonStaget  p.  304.  INothing  further  is  known  of  the  stage  history  of 'this  play 
except  Langbaine's  statement,  p.  64,  that  he  saw  it  acted  at  the  Nursery  in 
Barbican.    For  this  place,  see  Pepys  (Wheatley's  edition,  voL  vii,  p.  255*  *»•)• 

*  John  Weltster,  p.  213,  Stoll  accepts  this  conclusion,  and  asserts  some* 
what  dogmatically  that  '  our  noble  poet  is  here  leaving  his  old  *'  Senecal" 
vein  of  Bussy  and  Byfon  for  the  new-fang^  airs  of  the  Jacobean  court-poets'. 
But  Dr.  Stoll  accepts  without  investigation  Marriott's  ascription  of  the  play 
to  Chapman.  See  also  StoU's  later  utterance* in  Modern  L9Hgua$e  Not99 
voL  XX,  p.  2o8. 

718 


714  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

ascribing  tlie*alteiation  to  further  information  and  honesty  of  poipose 
on  Marriott's  part.  But  as  it  is»  I  do  not  see  how  we  can  believe  other- 
wise than  that  he,  like  Moseley  ^  in  the  case  of  Alpktmsus,  put  Chap- 
man's name  on  the  title-page  merely  for  advertising  purposes,  abusing 
the  reputation  of  a  great  poet  to  sell  a  comparatively  worthless  play. 

Swinburne,  the  first  critic  to  discuss  this  play,'  came  to  the  concln- 
sion  that  it  was  impossible  to  resolve  the  question  of  its  authenticity. 
He  saw  '  no  definite  reason  to  disbelieve  it  the  work  of  Chapman,  and 
not  a  little  reason  to  suppose  that  it  may  be  '.  Had  Swinburne  been 
aware  of  the  entry  in  the  Stationers'  Registers,  or  known  of  the  inter- 
nal evidence  which  connects  this  play  with  Glapthome,  it  is  to  be 
presumed  that  he  would  have  expressed  himself  otherwise.  Even  as 
it  was,  he  was  too  keen-sighted  not  to  notice  and  too  frank  not  to  admit 
the  striking  differences  in  diction,  versification,  and  ethical  power  be- 
tween this  play  and  the  body  of  Chapman's  work.  It  belongs,  he 
admits,  rather  to  '  the  school  of  Shirley  than  that  of  Chapman  '. 

Since  Swinburne's  essay,  with  our  increasing  knowledge  of  Eliza- 
bethan drama  in  general,  and  of  Chapman  in  particular,  the  doubt  as 
to  Chapman's  authorship  has  deepened  until  we  may  say  that,  with 
the  single  exception  of  Dr.  Stoll,  no  one  believes  the  play  to  be  genuine. 
Fleay,  Biog.  Chron,, yoL  ii,  p.  327,  declares  that  he  knows  no  author  to 
whom  he  can  assign  it,  and  dares  not  '  imitate  the  rashness  of  those 
who  set  value  on  Marriott's  statement '.    Bullen  in  his  articles  on 
Chapman   and  Glapthorne  in  the  Dictionary  of  National  Biography 
declares  that '  Chapman  had  certainly  no  hand  in  it,  but  it  may  have 
been  revised  by  Glapthorne  *.    Ward,  History  of  Dramatic  Literature, 
vol.  ii,  p.  431,    says    that   'if   by  Chapman,    Revenge  for  Honour 
must  be  reckoned  among  his  later  plays/     Koeppql,   Quellen  und 
Forschungen,  1897*  P*  79*  is  strongly  inclined  to  doubt  the  ascription 
of  the  play  to  Chapman  in  his  old  age,  and  would  ascribe  it  as  well 
as  Alphonsus  to  some  unknown  and  youthful  author.'    Boas,  Bussy 
D'Atnbois,  p.  viii,  points  out  the  difference  in  the  theme  and  versifica- 
tion of  this  play  from  Chapman's  known  work,  but  thinks  it  maybe  his 
on  account  of  the  presence  of  certain  parallels  ^  of  phrase  and  thought. 
Schelling,  Elixabethan  Drama,  vol.  i,  p.  448,  speaks  of  it  as  a  play  *  by 
some  inconsiderately  assigned  to  the  pen  of  Chapman '. 

The  most  careful  study  of  this  play  is  by  D.  L.  Thomas  in  Modem 
Philology,  April,  1908,  and  to  this  I  refer  the  student  fpr  a  detailed 
and,  I  believe,  quite  convincing  presentation  of  the  evidence  against 
Chapman's  authorship.  I  shall  content  myself  here  with  re-stating 
his  main  points,  adding  occasionally  what  further  evidence  I  have 
been  able  to  discover. 

^  See  above,  p.  684.  Dr.  Thomas,  in  the  study  referred  to  on  this  page, 
points  out  that  Chapman's  name  was '  desirable  for  title-page  use  '  as  is  shown 
by  the  reprints  of  sussy  in  1641,  1646,  and  1657,  by  the  re-issue  of  C«sar 
and  Pampey  in  1653,  by  the  '  continuous  popularity '  of  his  Homeric  trans- 
lations (see  Dryden,  Dedication  of  Examen  Poeticnm  as  to  the  '  incredible 
pleasure  and  extreme  transport'  with  which  Waller. and  the  Earl  of  Molgrave 
read  these  works),  and  by  Moseley's  ascription  to  him  of  Alphonsus  in  1654. 

'«  George  Chapman,  pp.  123-^. 

'See  also  Koeppel's  later  utterance  repeUing  the  criticism  of  Dr.  StoQ. 
Beihlattgur  AngUa,  voL  xviii,  p.  18. 

*  I  have  been  able  to  discover  very  few  of  these,  none  that  seem  to  me  in 
the  least  indicative  of  Chapman's  authorship. 


I       INTRODUCTION  715 

In  the -first  place,  the  choioe  ol  8nb}ect  and  method  of  treatment 
are  wholly  different  from  Chapman's  genuine  work.    Professor  Schick  ^ 
has  pointed  out  that  Revenge  for  Honour  is  in  part  at  least  derived  from 
KnoUes'  History  of  the  Turks*  1603.     There  we  hear  of  a  young  prince, 
Mustapha,  who  'so  possessed  the  minds  of  all  men  in  general,  but 
especially  of  the  men  of  war,  that  he  was  reputed  the  glory  ot  the 
court,  the  flower  of  chivalry,  the  hope  of  the  soldiers,  and  the  joy  of 
the  people  ',  a  description  which  would  suit  to  a  nicety  the  character 
of  Abilqualit  in  our  play.    He  is  universally  regarded  as  the  heir- 
apparent  of  the  empire ;  but  an  enemy  arises  against  him  in  the  person 
of  Roxolana,  the  favourite  wife  of  his  father,  Sol3anan,  who  wishes  to . 
secure  the  throne  for  one  of  her  own  sods.    In  alliance  with  a  Bassa, 
Rustan,  Roxolana  succeeds  in  persuading  Solyman  that  Mustapha  is 
plotting  against  his  life  and  throne.     Finally  a  proposed  marriage 
between  Mustapha  and  a  Persian  princess  brings  about  the  crisis. 
Solyman  marches  at  the  head  of  an  army  into  the  province  where 
Mustapha  is  stationed,  summons  the  prince  before  him,  and  on  his 
arrival  orders  him  to  be  strangled  without  delay.    The  order  is  carried 
out,  the  cruel  father  crying  to  the  mutes  who  were  struggling  with  the 
prince,  'Will  you  never  dispatch  that  I  bid  you  ?    Will  you  never 
make  an  end  of  this  traitor  for  whom  I  have  not  rested  one  night  these 
ten  years  in  quiet  ?  '    Mustapha's  death  was  followed  by  a  mutiny 
among  the  soldiers,  who  broke  into  Solyman's  tent  with  drawn  swords. 
Solyman  addressed  them  *  stoutly ',  but  was  forced  to  promise  an 
inquiry  into  the  charges  brought  against  his  son,  and  to  banish  Rustan« 
The  youngest  son  of  Roxolana,  who  had  accompanied  Solyman,  was 
presented  by  his  father  with  all  the  treasure  of  the  slain  prince,  but 
refused  to  receive  it,  reproached  Solyman  for  his  unnatural  murder, 
and  slew  himself  over  his  brother's  body. 

This  tragedy  of  court  intrigue  among  the  Turks  seems  to  have 
furnished  the  author  of  the  Revenge  for  Honour  with  the  figure  of  the 
heroic  and  calumniated  prince,  the  stem  and  suspicious  sultan,  and 
the  execution  of  the  prince  by  the  hands  of  the  mutes  of  the  palace 
in  the  presence  of  his  father.  But  there  are  many  incidents  in  the 
play  for  which  no  source  can  be  found  in  the  history,  and  at  least  one 
striking  alteration  which  points  to  another  possible  source.  In  KnoUes 
the  accuser  of  the  prince  is  his  step-mother  Roxolana  ;  in  Revenge  for 
Honour  it  is  his  younger  brother,  Abrahen,  a  villain  of  the  type  of 
Richard  III  or  Edmund.  It  is  possible  that  this  alteration,  is  due  to 
a  reading  of  the  tragedies  of  Fulke  Greville.  One  of  these,  Mustapha, 
deals  with  the  very  story  told  by  Knolles,  the  other,  Alaham,  for  which 
no  source  has  yet  been  discovered,  offers  a  series  of  very  striking 
parallels  '  yrithReveTige  for  Honour.  It  presents  two  brothers,  the  elder 
virtuous,  the  younger  a  villain,  sons  of  an  aged  Oriental  monarch, 

^  BeibkUt  tur  Anglia,  voL  xviii,  p.  22. 

*  In  the  account  of  Sol)rman  the  Magnificent,  pp.  757-65  of  the  edition, 
of  1621. 

*  These  parallels,  to  some  of  which  Koeppel  had  already  called  attention, 
were  pointed  out  to  me  by  my  colleague  Dr.  CroU,  author  of  the  thesis, 
The  Works  of  Fulke  GreviUe,  Philadelphia,  1903.  Dr.  CroU  also  calls  my 
attention  to  certain  similarities  of  thought,  especially  in  the  appeal  to  Nature 
as  against  human  standards  of  morality.  As  Alaham  was  not  printed  mitil 
z  633,*  the  author  lof  Revenge  for  Honour — ^if  this  pUy  is  to  be  identified 
mthj^TheJ*anacideoi  1624— must  have  read  GreviUe's  work  In  MS. 


7i6  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

and  tells  of  the  plot  of  the  ^Miii^er  agiftinst  his  ffttber  and  brothnr, 
of  the  blinding  and  execatlon  oz  the  father  and  brother,  of  the 
amours  at  the  villain's  wife,  and  of  his  final  death  at  her  hands  by 
means  of  a  poisoned  robe.  The  similarities  between  the  two  plays 
are  apparent,  the  differences  such  as  might  be  easily  due  to  ddiberate 
alteration  bv  the  later  pla3rwright. 

But  the  tale  of  borrowing  is  not  yet  complete.  Dr.  Stoir(o^.  cii.  p.  2 1 3) 
has  pointed  oat  a  number  of  extremely  close  parallels  between  Revenge 
for  Honour  and  the  Beanmont  and  Fletcho:  play,  Cupid's  Revenge, 
produced  as  early  as  161 2.  Cupid's  Revenge,  as  is  well  known,  goes 
back  in  turn  to  the  Arcadia,  but  there  is  one  very  striking  incident 
common  to  the  two  plays  which  is  wanting  in  the  Arcadia,  the  stabbing 
of  the  hero  at  the  close  of  the  action  by  the  woman  whom  hs  had 
seduced,  and  whose  reputation  he  had  lied  to  preserve.  There  can  be 
little  doubt,  I  think,  tl^it  the  surprising  and  extremely  effective  catas- 
trophe of  Cupid's  Revenge  was  '  lifted '  by  the  author  of  the  Revenge 
for  Honour, 

It  needs  no  demonstration  to  any  student  of  Chapman  that  this 
ingenious  system  of  adapting  and  re-arranging,  this  mosaic  work  of 
borrowed  stage>effects,  is  not  his  method  of  dramatic  composition, 
particularly  in  the  field  of  historical  tragedy.  We  have  but  to  recall 
the  Byron  plays,  Chabot,  and  Casar  and  Pompey,  to  assure  ourselves 
that,  if  Chapman  had  ever  chosen  the  story  of  Mustapha  as  the  theme 
of  a  tragedy,  he  would  have  kept  much  closer  to  the  facts  of  history, 
used  time  and  again  the  very  words  of  his  source,  and  wrought  ont  ci 
the  story  some  lofty  moral  lesson.  But  the  author  of  Revenge  for 
Honour  cared  for  historic  truth  as  much  and  as  little  as  he  cared  for 
the  moral  element  in  tragedy. 

Again,  as  Thomas  has  pointed  out.  Revenge  for  Honour  presents  a 
wh<^ly  different  system  of  dramaturgy  from  that  of  Chapman.  Chap> 
man's  technic  is  archaic  and  Senecan.  He  employs  the  Nuntius 
and  the  Umbra  of  the  Senecan  tradition ;  he  introduces  omens,  pre- 
sentiments, and  prophecies ;  he  abounds  in  epic  narrations.  All  this 
is  markedly  absent  from  the  modem  and  facile  technic  of  Revenge 
for  Honour.  The  author  stands,  not  upon  Seneca,  but  upon  Beanmont 
and  Fletcher,  and  uses,  not  unskilfully,  all  the  well-known  devices  of 
their  school,  the  interweaving  of  love  and  politics  into  a  tangled  In- 
trigue, comic  relief,  not  as  a  separate  underplot,  but  in  occasional  dia- 
logues of  careless  and  often  obscene  jesting,  and  more  especially  the 
exploitation,  not  to  say  abuse,  of  the  trick  of  surprise,  the  sacrificing 
of  genuine  tragic  effect  for  the  sake  of  securing  an  unexpected  and 
sensational  coup  de  thidtre.  Nothing  in  the  work  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher^  is  quite' so  startling  as  the  sudden  resurrection  of  Abilqualit 
in  IV,  i,  unless  it  be  the  absolutely  unmotivated  murder  of  the  prince 
by  his  dying  mistress  in  the  last  scene. 

Furthermore,  the  diction,  general  style,  and  versification  of  Revenge 
for  Honour  are  as  different  from  the  genuine  work  of  Chapman  as  can 
be  well  imagined.  There  is  no  trace  in  this  play  of  Chapman's  pedantic 
choice  of  words  and  deliberate  obscurity  of  exi»ression,  of  his  large 
and  full-mouthed  rhetoric,  of  his  elaborate  and  often  magnificent 
imagery.    The  diction  and  style  of  this  play  point,  like  its  choice  of 

*  I  use  this  term  loosely  to  indicate  the  body  of  plays  that  passes  under 
their  n«miet  without  pronounciog  on  the  vext  question  of  the  authorship. 


,  INTEODIJCTION  717 

subject  and  technic  of  composition,  to  a  writer  of  the  new  school, 
a  poet  who  sought  for  clearness  of  speech,  simplicity  of  construction, 
and  fanciful,  rather  than  imaginative,  imagery.  Only  in  his  fondness 
for  similes  does  the  author  of  the  Revenge  approach  Chapman,  and  his 
similes  are  for  the  most  part  briefer  and  more  properly  dramatic  than 
Chapman's.  They  lack  the  elaboration  and  epic  expansion  of  the 
older  writer's. 

Finally  the  versification  differs  at  every  point  from  that  of  Chapman. 
The  influence  of  Fletcher  is  very  apparent,  not  only  in  the  freqaency 
of  double  and  triple  endings,^  but  m  the  employment  of  the  genuine 
FJetcherian  cadence  :•' 

When  you  in  peace  are  shrouded  in  your  marble. 

IV,  i,  59. 
and  the  use  of  the  characteristically  Fletcherian  monosyllabic  '  and 
stressed  eleventh  syllable : 

Though  he  doih  hnow,  as  certainly  he  must  do. 

Ill,  i,  112. 

Chapman's  versification  is  so  consistent  and  characteristic,  so  inde- 
pendent of  outside  influence,  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  mistake  for 
his  the  work  of  such  a  patent  imitator  of  Fletcher. 

We  may  sum  up  the  whole  matter  in  the  words  of  Dr.  Thomas: 
'The  only  hypothesis  that  can  explain  Chapman's  authorship  of  a 
tragedy  so  different  from  the  rest  of  his  work  is  that  late  in  life  .  .  . 
he  decided  to  write  a  tragedy  resembling  those  being  constructed  by 
some  of  the  successful  dramatists  of  the  younger  schooL  This  means 
that  he  chose  a  subject  of  a  kind  not  found  elsewhere  in  his  works — 
of  oriental  court  life— treated  his  sources  in  a  new  way,  built  up  the 
structure  much  on  the  plan  of  one  of  Fletcher's  plays,  wrote  contrary 
to  his  avowed  theory  of  tragedy  [i.e. '  elegant  and  sententious  excitation 
to  virtue  and  deflection  fnun  her  contrary ']  excluded  omens,  presenti- 
ments, and  supernatural  agencies,  foreswore  his  allegiance  to  the  Kyd- 
Seneca  tragedy  .  .  .  reversed  his  whole  hohing-forward  method  to 
the  hohing-bachward  method  of  surprise,  constnicted  smoothly  and 
regularly,  expressed  himself  with  ease  and  grace,  employed  the 
Fletcherian  versification,  and  in  general  cast  off  like  a  garment  all  that 
had  been  most  distinctive  of  him,  whether  of  strength  or  weakness,  li^ny 
of  these  differences  are  not  superficial,  but  fundamental,  and  seem  to 
represent  differences  in  genius  and  taste,  in  inclination  and  training. 
That  even  a  poet  of  much  less  pronounced  and  individual  manner 
than  Chapman  and  of  less  advanced  age  could  so  completely  have 
changed  is  improbable  almost  to  the  degree  of  impossibility  and 
absurdity '. 

Abandoning,  then,  as  ^uite  discredited  the  idea  that  Chapman  was 
In  any  way  concerned  with  Revenge  for  Honour,  we  turn  to  see  what 
positive  evidence  there  is  of  authorship  by  any  other  known  writer. 
The  entry  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  points  at  once  to  Glapthome. 

^  Elste,  Der  Blankvers  in  den  Dramen  Chapmam*  HaUe,  1892,  finds  44 
per  cent,  of  double  endings,  and  4-4  of  triple,  in  the  Revenge,  as  compared 
with  31*2  and  x>i  in  Casar  and  Pompey,  which  of  all  Chapman's  plays  ex- 
hibits the  highest  percentages.  Byron's  Conspiracy  shows  only  24*3  per  cent, 
and  0'5  per  cent  reroectivdy. 

•  a.  also  II,  i,  a^ ;  IV,  i,  46,  60,  136. 


7iS  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

Practically  nothing  is  known  of  the  life  of  Henry  Glapthome.  The 
biography  ptefixed  to  the  collected  edition  ^  of  his  wozIes  gives  ns  in 
default  of  all  material  infonnation  as  to  his  life  a  series  of  extracts 
from  a  critical  review  of  his  work  and  a  Ubellous  pamphlet  more 
amusing  than  instructive,  containing  the  charges  brought  against  a 
certain  loose-living  and  hard-sweanng  George  Glapthome  *  by  his 
scandalized  Puritan  neighbours  of  the  Isle  of  Ely  in  1654.  ^ven  the 
industry  of  Mr.  Bullen  has  been  able  to  discover  nothing  more  definite 
for  the  DUHonary  of  National  Biography  than  the  vague '  fioreai  1659/ 
Five  plays  of  his,  however,  have  come  down  to  us,  ail  printed  in  1639 
or  X640,  and  Mr.  Bullen  >  reprinted  in  1882  a  play.  The  Lady  Mothir, 
that  had  ranained  in  MS.  until  that  year  Two  other  plays  entered 
in  the  Stationers'  Registers  September  9,  1653,  ^A«  Duchess  of 
Femandina  and  The  Vestal,  have  been  lost. 

In  addition  to  his  plays  we  have  a  thin  volume  of  poems  pnUished 
in  1639,  and  Whitehall  a  poem,  with  Elegies,  published  in  1642.  This 
latter  volume  was  dedicated  to  Glapthome's  noble  friend  and  gossif^ 
Captain  Richard  Lovelace '.  As  Wit  in  a  Con^able  was  dedicated  to 
Strafiord,  it  is  easy  to  see  on  what  side  oi  the  great  struggle  that  put 
an  end  to  his  play-writing  Glapthome's  sympathies  lay.  Nothing 
whatever  is  known  of  him  after  1642.  He  may  have  perished  in  the 
Civil  Wars  or,  like  his  friend  Lovelace,  may  have  b^  reduced  to 
poverty  and  obscurity  in  the  Commonwealth.* 

The  internal  evidence  which  points  to  Glapthome's  connexion  with 
Jievenge  for  Honour  is  more  convincing  than  the  enbry  d  his  name  as 
author  in  the  Stationers'  Registers.  It  consists  of  a  series  of  parallel 
passages,  first  pointed  out  by  Dr.  Thomas,  to  which  my  subsequent 
reading  of  Glapthome  has  enabled  me  to  make  some  additions,  though 
none  quite  so  striking  as  those  he  first  noticed.  These  passages  are 
printed,  with  a  few  exceptions,  in  the  following  notes,  where  tbey  are 
quoted  from  the  sole  edition  of  Glapthome  by  volume  and  page.  Some 
of  the  most  striking  examples  may  be  found  on  pp.  723, 724,  and  725. 
But  the  value  of  evidence  of  this  sort  is  cumulative,  and  pai^iM«  insig- 
nificant in  themselves  become  valuable  when  membera  of  a  series.  These 
parallels  are  far  too  close  to  be  the  result  of  mere  accident.  Thefy  either 
unply  deliberate  plagiarism,  or  repetition  on  the  part  of  the  original 
author  of  favourite  images,  ideas,  and  phrases.  Plagiarism  cannot  in 
this  case;  I  believe,  explain  the  parallels.  They  are  too  numerous,  and 
connect  Revenge  for  Honour  not  with  one  or  two  of  Glapthome's  plays^ 

^  The  Plays  and  Poems  of  Henry  Glapthome,  London,  1874. 

*  That  this  George  was  a  kinsman  of  Henry  there  is  not  a  tittle  of  evidence, 
but  the  enterprising  biographer  insists  on  making  them  brothers,  and  draws 
a  pretty,  but  quite  ima^ary,  picture  of  the  loving  companionship  of  the 
refined  poet  and  his  roistering  brother. 

<  In  Old  English  Plays,  vol.  li.  It  was  licensed  in  1635,  in  which  jear  also 
Glapthome  wrote  The  Hollander.  This  may  be  taken  as  the  t>eginniiig  ol 
Glapthome's  career  as  a  dramatist,  which  enoed,  so  far  as  we  can  tell,  in  1639 
or  1640,  just  before  the  closing  of  the  theatres. 

*  Two  at  least  of.  Glapthome's  plays  were  revived  after  the  Restoratioo, 
Pepys  saw  Ar gains  and  Parthenia  at  the  Theatre  on  January  31,  x66i,  '  the 
house  exceeding  full,'  and  Wit  in  a  Constable  at  the  Opera  on  May  23,  1662, 
*  the  first  time  that  it  was  acted '.  The  first  of  these  plays  is  mentioned  by 
Downes  in  a  list  of  old  plays  revived  between  1663  and  1683  ;  the  second  in  a 
list  of  plays  acted  in  Davenant*s  theatre  between  1662  and  1665 ;  see  Genest, 
The  En^h  Stage,  voL  i,  pp.  343  and  63. '  , 


INTRODUCTION  719 

but  with  all  of  them.  I  have  counted  nine  jparallels  more  or  less  close 
with  WalUnstein,  four  with  the  Ladies'  Priwege,  three  each  with  Th0 
Lady  Mother  and  The  Hollander,  two,  not  very  satisfactcny,  with 
Argalus  and  Parthenia,  one  or  two  with  Wit  in  a  Constable,  and  one 
with  Glapthome's  Poems  ;  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  this  list  could 
be  increased  by  any  one  who  cared  to  make  a  close  analysis  of  Glap- 
thome's  work.  Now  it  is  quite  incredible  that  the  author,  or  reviser, 
of  Revenge  for  Honour  should  have  set  himself  deliberately  to  pillage 
the  work  of  a  dramatist  so  little  known  as  Glapthome.  To  do  so  he 
must  have  had  all  Glapthome's  works  lying  before  him  as  he  wrote, 
and  transferred  his  borrowings,  word  by  word  at  times,  from  the  printed 
to  the  written  page. 

Repetition,  on  the  other  hand,  gives  us  a  perfectly  satisfactory  ex* 
planation.  Mr.  BuUen  remarks  in  his  introduction  to  The  Lady  Mother 
on  '  the  bland  persistence  with  which  certain  passages  are  reproduced 
in  one  play  of  Glapthome's  after  another '.  And  there  are  certain 
tags,  '  ^ers '  we  might  call  them,  used  to  begin  or  round  o£E  a  verse 
w^h  form  part  of  Glapthome's  stock  in  trade.  Even  a  cursory  perusal 
of  his  plays  sets  the  reader  to  work  marking  cross  references  on  the 
margin,  and  when  one  passes  from  the  signed  plays  of  Glapthome  to 
Revenge  for  Honour  one  simply  carries  out  the  process.  In  fact,  I 
should  be  inclined  to  believe  that  more  parallels  to  Glapthome's  signed 
work  can  be  found  in  this  play  than  in  any  one  of  them  to  any  other — 
more,  I  feel  sure,  than  can  be  foimd  in  The  Lady  Mother,  which  Bullen 
published  as  Glapthome's  on  the  strength  of  such  parallels. 

To  Glapthome's  authorship  of  Revenge  for  Honour  there  are,  howevd, 
certain  objections.  In  the  first  place,  if  the  play  is  to  be  identified 
with  The  Parracide  of  1624,  Glapthome  can  hardly  be  the  author,  for 
there  is  nothing  to  show  that  he  began  writing  for  the  stage  before 
1635.  But  this  identification,  while  probable,  is  not  absolutely 
cerlain. 

Again,  Revenge  for  Honour  differs  in  certain  respects  from  Glap- 
thome's signed  plays.  Dr.  Thomas  holds  that  '  in  choice  and  treat- 
ment of  subject,  in  dramatic  structure  and  devices,  and  in  character- 
treatment,  no  striking  resemblance  appears'  between  them.  The 
versification  also,  he  holds,  is  unlike  *  Glapthome  uses '  a  much  smaller 
proportion  of  feminine  ^  endings  .  Finally,  Revenge  for  Honour  is 
generally  pronounced  too  good  a  play  for  Glapthome,  and  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  in  construction,  sustained  interest,  and  startling 
effects,  it  is  distinctly  superior  to  his  one  triagedy,  Wallenstein,  which 
is  a  curiously  old-fkshioned  chronicle  play  to  have  been  written  after 

1634- 

All  these  difficulties  will  disappear,  however,  if  we  think  of  Glap- 
thome, not  as  the  original  author,  but  as  the  reviser  of  Revenge  for 
Honour,  We  may  than  identify  it  with  The  Parracide,  and  assume  that 
play  to  have  been  written  by '  an  apt  and  gifted  pupil  of  Fletcher's  ',* 

I  I  am  not  Insure  that  jl  should  lay  much  stress  on  this  point ;  it  'seems 
to  me  not  unlikely  ""that  Glapthome's  verse  might  have  developed  in  this 
direction ;  indeed  Wit  in  a  Constable,  probably  his  last  play,  seems  to  show  such 
development. 

*  Hardly  by  Fletcher  himself,  as  Kr.  Thomas  suggests,  who  would  not 
have  been  writing  for  any  other  company  than  the  Kis^s  Men  in  X624,  while 
The  Parracide  was  licensed  for  the  Prmoe^s  Company.  Dr.  Thomas's  attempts 
to  discover  a  possible  author  of  this  play  among  the  writers  for  this  company, 


7«Q  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

and  to  have  been  revised,  either  for  the  stage  or  for  the  press,  by  Glap- 
thome.  If  Glaptiiome  lived  into  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth,  he 
may  well  have  been  reduced  to  such  straits  as  to  have  been  glad  to 
patch  np  an  old  playhouse  MS.  for  pubUcation. 

As  to  the  extent  of  Glapthome's  revision  we  cannot,  I  believe,  obtain 
any  satisfactory  evidence.  No  scenes  stand  out  as  peculiarly  his; 
IV,  i,  which  contains  the  greatest  number  of  parallels,  does  not  seem 
to  me  to  di£Eer  particularly  in  substance  or  form  from  other  scenes  of 
the  play.  I  should  imagine  that  the  revision  was  fairly  thorough  and 
that  Glapthome's  facile  and  imitative  vein  led  him  to  throw  his  addi- 
tions ana  revisions  into  the  marked  Fletcherian  metre  of  the  originaL 
I  doubt  whether  the  closest  analysis  could  differentiate  the  old  from 
the  new  matter  in  this  play. 

After  all  it  does  not  greatly  matter.  If  we  have  freed  Chapman 
from  the  charge  of  having  written  so  theatrical  and  insincere  a  piece 
of  work  as  this,  and  established  a  connexion  between  it  and  an  obscure 
playwright^  of  the  last  days  of  the  decadence  of  the  drama,  our  task  is 
done.  J^svgnge  for  Honour  is  not  without  interest  as  a  specimen  of 
the  melodrama  current  in  the  days  of  Fletcher's  greatest  popularity, 
but  in  an  edition  of  Chapman's  works  it  has,  I  fear,  already  ^iken  up 
more  space  than  it  deserves. 

Dekker,  Day,  Sampson,  Ford,  Broome,  and  Ifiddletoa,  have  met  with  no 
success. 

^  Mr.  Brereton  {Sydney  UniversUy  Library  PublicaUons,  No.  2)  has  advanced 
the  ingenious  theoiv  that  Revenge  for  Honour  is  an  elaborate  hoax  perpetrated 
by '  Chapman  and  bis  associates '  on  some  amateur  actor, '  perhaps  the  stage- 
stmck  proprietor  of  a  popular  tavern '.  I  doubt  whether  Mr.  Brereton  himsdf 
takes  this  seriously.  Tne  connezions  existing  between  Revenue  for  Honom 
and  other  Elizabethan  dramas  go  far  to  show,  I  think,  that  the  play  was 
written  in  pood  faith  by  Its  author,  or  authors,  and,  after  all,  it  is  too 
characteristic  a  specimen  of  late  melodrama  to  be  taken  as  mere  burlesque. 


J 


■'   '  REVENGE   FOR  HONOUR 

NOTES 

^locii«»l.  19.    In  another  sphere :  Fleay,  Biog.  Chron,,  vol.  ii.  p.  32^1  takes 

this  phrase  to  allude  to  the  change  of  the  Fdnce's  Company,  for  whom  The 

Parradde  was  licensed,  from  the  Curtain  to  the  Red  Bull  in  August,  1623.  The 

speaker  in  this  case  would  be  refenlng  to  the  applause  he  had  won  in  the 

fooner  theatre.    Bftr.  Breieton  thinks  that  the  phrase  implies  that  the  speaker 

is  '  a  gentleman  who  hopes  to  win  on  the  boards  approval  equal  to  that 

which  he  has  gained  elsewhere '. 

I,  i,  5-11.  There  are  two  parallels  to  this  reference  to  the  sutler's  wife  in 
WtMertsUin,  vol.  ii,  pp.  25,  45.  ^,   , 

I,  i,  10.  The  iraOer  of  the  puissant  pihe ;  the  phrase  is  borrowed  from  Shakes- 
peare's TraiFst  thou  the  puissant  pihe,  K.H.  V,,  IV,  i,  40.  It  occurs  also 
ki  Wil  in  a  Constable,  voL  i,  p.  932. 

I,  U  18-19.  An  evident  rendering  in  the  Oriental  dress  proper  to  this  tragedy 
of  the  well-known  English  saying  '  to  dine  with  Duke  Humphrey  *,  i.e.  to 
go  dinnerless.  According  to  Stowe  {Survey,  p.  125,  ed.  1876),  the  '  fair 
monument '  of  John  Beauchamp  in  St.  Paul's  was  commonly  '  misnamed ' 
Duke  Humphrey's.  A  man  too  poor  to  pay  for  his  dinner,  who  loitered 
in  St.  Paulas  while  others  wece  at  meals,  was  said  to  *  dine  with  Duke 
Humphrey '.  This  saying  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  Elizabethan  litera- 
ture.   The  first  recorded  mstance  is  in  G.  Harvey's  Four  Letters,  1592. 

I,  !•  28.    Wear  the  huff:   go  naked. 

]^  i«  S6.    DuU  as  dormice :  the  phrase  is  repeated  below,  III,  ii.  8-9. 

I^  C  66.    Simanthes  is  called  Hennes  on  account  of  his  busy,  intriguing  nature. 

I,  U  66-7.  The  ovens  in  Egypt :  a  reference  to  the  practice,  dating  back  to 
the  earliest  times^  of  artificial  incubation  in  Egypt. 

It  U  77-80.  One  of  the  countless  allusions  in  Elizabethan  literature  to  the 
practice  on  the  part  of  army  officers  of  abusing  the  compulsory  impress- 
ment of  soldiers,  common  under  the  Tudors  and  early  Stuarts,  by  selling 
immunity  from  military  obligation  to  those  able  and  willing  to  pay  for  it. 
The  locus  classicus  on  the  subject  is  2  K.H.  IV,  III,  ii. 

I,  U  118.  Enucleated:  extracted.  This  unusual  word  does  not  occur  in 
Chapman's  plays.    I  have  found  it  in  Glapthome,  voL  i,  p.  189. 

I,  i*  120.  Flatus  hypochofulfiacus :  probably  the  'hypochondriacal,  or  windy 
melancholy,  proceeding  from  the  head  alone ' ;  cf.  Burton,  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy,  I,  ii,  memb.  I,  subs,  i. 

1^  l»  128-4.  Averroes,  the  famous  Spanish- Arabian  philosopher  and  ph3^cian 
of  the  twelfth  century. 

Avicen,  or  Avicenna,  a.o.  980-X037,  a  corrupt  form  of  Ibn  Sina,  the 
most  celebrated  of  the  Arabian  physicians  and  philosophers. 

Abenhuacar,  Samuel  Ibn  Wakar,  or  Huacar,  physician  to  Alphonso  XI 
of  Castile  in  the  fourteenth  century,  said  to  be  the  author  of  a  tract,  Caa- 
Hlian  Medicine. 

Baruch,  possibly  Isaac  ben  Baruch  Albalia,  a  Spanish  Jew  of  the  eleventh 
centurv,  bnilosopher  and  astrologer. 

Abolafft;  Thb  old  reading  AbofUi  is  an  evident  mistake  for  AbolaM, 
itself  a  corruption,  perhaps  under  Italian  influence,  of  the  name  of  a  dis- 
tinguished fa&iily  01  Spanish  Jews,  Abulafia,  from  which  the  Italian  name 
BoUffi  is  derived.  Abraham  ben  Samuel  Abulafia  was  a  famous  cabalist 
C.W.D.  »»  3  A 


722  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

of  the  thirteentk  century ;  Meir  ben  Todxos  ha-Levi  Abolafia  was  a  Talmii' 
dist  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth.  I  doubt  whether  the  dramatist  had 
any  individual  in  mind. 

I.  U  149-61.  Probably  an  allusion  to  the  abolition  of  monopolies  by  the 
Parliament  of  1624^  although  it  may  refer  to  the  earlier  attack  on  them 
in  the  Parliament  of  1621 ;  see  Modern  Language  Noies,  voL  xz»  p.  308. 

I^  U  848.  Its  own  Mars :  its  own  presiding  deity.  Mars  is  spoken  of  as  the 
Genius,  or  Angel,  of  Abilqualit. 

I.  U  858.  Viperous  wickedness:  an  allusion  to  the  old  belief  that  young 
vipers  ate  their  way  through  the  bowels  of  their  mother,  whence  '  is  as- 
signed \  says  Sir  Thomas  Browne, '  the  reason  why  the  Romans  pmiished 
Parriddes  by  drowning  them  in  a  sack  with  a  viper '.  For  an  elaborate 
discussion  of  this  belief^  see  Browne,  Vulgar  Errors,  III,  26.  A  passage 
in  Glapthome  agrees  with  the  text  in  likening  ambition  to  the  viper : 

That  he  should  do  this 
And  Uke  the  viper's  young,  devour  thai  heart 
That  bred  and  nomish'd  him, 

WuUensimHt  voL  U,  p.  n. 
Cf.  also  below  IV,  i,  2za-Z4. 
U  i,  880-8.    Cf. 

The  big  mars 
That  make  ambition  virtue. 

OtheOo,  III,  iii,  349-50- 

I,  U  860-L    Cf.  Dulce  beOum  inexpertis,  Erasmus,  Adag^^  p.  A33,  ed.  1583. 

(  i»  858-8.  The  simile  is  from  the  Arcadia  (ed.  1867,  p.  3x5) :  '  Tlie  very 
cowards  no  sooner  saw  him  but^  as  borrowing  some  of  his  spirit,  thej  went 
like  young  eagles  to  the  prey  under  the  wing  of  their  dam '.  It  is»  per- 
haps, worth  noting  that  this  passage  occurs  m  Book  III,  which  contains 
the  story  of  Argalus  and  Partnenia.  Glapthome  dramatized  this  story  in 
his  play  of  that  name  published  1639.    CI.  also 

An  eye 
Piercing  as  is  an  eaglets  when  her  danh 
Training  her  out  into  the  serene  air. 
Teaches  her  face  the  sunbeames. 

The  Lady  Mother,  p.  109. 

I,  i»  877*  To  inform  succession :  to  tell  posterity.  This  peculiar  use  of  the 
word  succession  occurs  again  in  IV,  i,  129.  I  have  not  found  it  in  Chap- 
man's work ;  but  it  occurs  at  least  twice  in  Glapthome,  The  Ladies'  Privi- 
Uge,  voLpi,  pp.  92,  153- «y 

1, 1,  888.  Regardless :  i.e.  unregarded ;  I  have  not  noted  the  word  used  in 
this  sense  in  Chapman's  plays. 

I,  U  404-5.  '  Your  opinion  of  me  is  higher  than  my  gratitude  can  ever  think 
of  repaying ';  ^ 

I,  U  4S7S.  '  The  fact  oi  my  youth  will  free  me  from  being  suspected  of 
such  a  subtle  device.'  This  use  of  ^1;^,  in  the  sense  of  '  acquit '  or  '  free ' 
occurs  in  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  96,  Chabot,  IV,  i,  261,  and  elsewhere  In 
Chapman. 

I^  i*  81-8.  The  young  of  the  lapwing  run  from  their  nest  on  the  gromid 
almost  as  soon  as  they  are  hatched.  There  is  repeated  reference  to  this 
fact  in  Elizabethan  literature ;  see  Bamlet,  V,  u,  193-4,  and  the  note 
thereon  in  the  New  Variorum. 

O^  L  94.  Many-headed  beast,  the  people;  the  phrase  seems  bocrowed  from 
Shakespeare's  the  many-headed  multitude,  Coriolanus,  II,  iii,  x8. 

I^  U  108.  This:  probablyequivalent  to  '  this  is ',  as  Brereton  suggests  (see 
Text  Notes,  p.  727) ;  but  perhaps  the  phrase  AH  ,  ,  ,  truOi  might  be 
taken  in  apposition  with  It,  the  subject  of  confess*d. 

Ut  U  158.    People,  a  possessive  case  without  the  usual  temaioatioiL; 
Text  Notes,  p*  727. 


NOTES  733 

I^  i,  18S.  Impale  your  glorious  brow :  cf.  *JmpaU  ths  fonhead  of  the  g^uA 
King  Mon$t&uf*,  Bussy,  III,  ii,  380. 

O^  U  wi-^  The  idea  expressed  in  these  lines  is  practically  the  same  as  that 
in  Ths  Reoenge  of  Bussy,  IV,  v,  38-43,  but  a  comparison  of  the  phrasing 
and  consimcUon  of  the  two  passages  will  show  how  much  Chapman's 
style  differs  from  that  of  the  author  of  this  play. 

I^  U  2M.  '  Throw  aside  that  quality,  his  love  for  his  children,  which  makes 
him  indeed  our  father*. 

O^  i^  890-L  Pliny/  Natural  History,  zzxvi,  34,  says  of  the  stone  GagaUs, 
I.e.  jet,  accendttur  aqua,  oUo  restinguitur.  Thi^  explains  the  somewhat 
confused  text;  fet  on  fife  is  '  burning  jet '  and  extinguish  is  used  intransi- 
tively. 

n»  U  SKMS.  a.  2  Tamburlaine,  IV;  L  65-a. 

B^  ilt  S-7.    With  this  passage  cf. 

Themodssi  turtles  which  .  i 

In  view  of  other  more  lascivious  birds 
Exchange  their  innocent  loves  %n  timorous  sighs, 
Do  when  alone  most  prettily  convert  * 

*'  Their  chirps  to  hilHng  ;  and  with  feather*d  arms 

Encompass  mutually  their  gaudy  nechs. 

The  Ladies*  Privilege,  voL  ii^  p.  99. 
Cf.  also 

Do  I  ^hinh 
When  I  behold  the  wanton  sparrows  change 
Their  chirps  to  billing,  they  are  chaste? 

The  Lady  Mother,  p.  134. 

Hf  lit  88-9«  Mr.  Crawford  gives  me  a  couple  of  parallels  which  illustrate  this 
passage,  the  first  from  Webster's  Monumenttd  Column : 

Resembling  trees  the  more  they're  ta'en  with  fruit. 
The  more  they  strive  and  bow  to  hiss  the  ground. 

The  second  from  Massinger: 

/  will  lihe  a  palm  tree  grow 
Under  my  [own]  huge  weight. 

Believe  as  you  List,  I,  i. 

II»  ii»  88-S8.  In  her  unioQ  oi  ambition  and  sensual  passion  Caropla,  as  Thomas 
has  shown,  is  clearly  modelled  after  Evadne  in  The  Mai^s  Tragedy, 

nil  i,  ei-8.  Cf. 

/  will  go  to  death, 
In  full  peace  as  does  an  anchorite  ihaPs  assured 
Of  ail  his  sins^  forgiveness, 

Wallenstein,  voL  ii,  p.  6x. 

in.  U  88.  Cifcular  fire.  The  phrase  must,  I  think,  be  used  for '  circling  fire  '* 
perhaps  with  a  reference  to  the  ring  of  fire  about  a  martyr  at  the  stake* 

in.  U  158-8.  The  author  is  fond  of  dwelling  on  the  horror  of  the  supposed 
rape :  cf.  below.  III,  ii,  126-8,  IV,  i,  11-13,  aad  IV,  i,  74-5. 

m,  i,  184-8.    With  these  Hues,  cf . 

Your  entreaties 
Are  cast  on  me  as  fools  throw  oU  on  fire. 
Striving  to  extinguish  it, 

Wallenstein,  voL  ii,  p.  6z. 


and 


and 


You  will  ra^e  more  than  unlimited  fife 
In  populous  ctties* 

Ladies'  Privilege,  vd.  U,  p.  zos. 

The  passage  of  unlimited  fire 
In  populous  cities. 

Wallenstein,  vcd^ii^  p.  j^, 

3B 


724  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

The  offgind  of  the  phrase  is  probably  Shakespeaire : 

As  wheHf  by  mgfU  and  negHgeftee,  the  fife 
Is  spied  in  populous  dHes, 

(HheWf,  1,  i,  7^. 
ni,  i,  BS8.    Blood,  i.e.  nearness  of  blood,  kinship. 
m,  L  VIL    This  simile  Is  a  favourite  with  Massinger;    Boyle,  En^tiMtAe 

Siudien,  vol.  iz,  pp.  319-35,  points  out  three  passages  containing  it.    An 

older  instance,  perhaps  the  one  from  which  Massing^  drew  his  phrasing 

is  in  Chapman's  Gentleman  Usher,  III,  ii,  ii-iS. 
tSU  ^  ML    Bal^fowling:   a  method  of  catching  birds  by  night  by  daziiic 

them  with  a  light,  and  then  knocking  them  down.    The  term  is  used 

here  jestingly  to  describe  the  supposed  nocturnal  adventures  of  Al)rahea. 

Wagtails  is  a  familiar  or  contemptuous  term,  applied  especially  to  harioti^ 

Lethe  uses  it  to  the  country  wench  in  Michailmas  Term,  III,   i,  211. 
m,  ii,  tt.    Hoodwink  men  Uke  tuUen  hamhs:  the  allusion  is  to  the  *  hood' 

which  the  trained  hawk  wore  on  coming  abroad  before  she  was  'nn- 

hooded '  and  flown  at  her  qnarry. 
HL  iit  18S.     The  sta^e  direction  after  this  line  is  the  soke  preparation  we 

have  for  the  suipinsing  revival  of  AbUqnalit  after  his  supposed  death  in 

IT,  i,  li-19.    With  these  lines  cf . 

/  will  quite  Put  off 
The  name  of  father,  tnke  as  uttle  noOcp 
Thou  Oft  my  offspring,  as  the  surly  North 
Does  of  the  snow,  which  when  it  has  engendered 
Its  wild  breath  scattefs  through  the  earth  forgotten, 

WaUenstein,  voL  i^  p.  57. 

iy.i.n.  Cf. 

//  /  were  now  creeping  into  my  marble, 

WaUenstein,  voL  ii,  pu  79^ 

!▼•  i*  70-0.    This  passage  seems  a  composite  of  two  passages  in  GU^thon^ 
One  of  these  has  already  been  pointed  out  by  Thomas : 

Suppose 
I  had  wUh  patience  borne  this  scandalous  name 
Of  a  degenerate  coward,  I  not  only 
Had  nipped  the  budding  valour  of  my  youth, 
As  with  a  hillmt  frost,  but  l^  a  shime 
Inherent  to  our  family,  disgradd 
My  noble  father's  memory,  defam*d, 
'  Nay  cowarded  my  ancestors,  whose  dust 
Would  'a  broke  through  the  marbles  to  reoenge 
To  me  this  fatal  infamy. 

The  Ladies*  FrivH^e,  voL  ii,  p.  r4i. 

The  other  presents  an  even  closer  Ukeness.    As  in  the  text,  it  is  the  speech 
of  a  father  rebuking  a  son  for  having  disgraced  his  rank : 

Young  sir,  your  honour 
Is  not  your  own,  for  it  you're  but  my  factor. 
And  must  give  me  account,  a  strict  account 
Of  the  errors  you  run  in;  to  the  dust 
Of  my  great  ancestors  stand  I  accountant 
For  all  my  family,  and  their  blest  ashes 
Would  break  their  marble  lodgings  and  come  forth 
To  quarrel  with  me,  should  I  permit  this  bar 
'  To  stain  their  glorious  hertOdry. 

WaUenstein,  voL  ii,  p.  58. 

I?,  i,  116.    Precede  his  nature  :  get  the  upper  hand  of  his  natural  love  to  his 

son. 
IVt  U  185**^  ^  The  similifity  between  this  passage  and  one  in  Tha  Mm^t 

f    • 

"  1 


NOTES  725 

Tragedy,  IV,  ii,  has  been  pdnted  out  by  Dr.  StoU.  In  both  cases  the 
hero  repeatedly  makes  certain  avowals  to  another  character,  which  «re  at 
once  reported  to  the  Kin^  and  promptly  denied  by  the  hero.  The  serio- 
comic  effect  in  a  tragic  situation  is  the  same  in  both  plays. 
I¥a  it  188.  The  Mutes  have  apparently  completed  half  their  task  of  blindii^ 
AbQqualit.  At  least  it  appears  so  to  Abrahen,  who  is  ignorant  that  his 
brother  has  arranged  with  the  Mutes  to  go  throu^  a  mere  form  of  execi^ 
tion. 
XV,  1*  SSS-?.  These  lines  present  another  close  parallel  with  WalUnsUin, 
There  a  son  says  to  a  father,  who  has  just  commanded  a  deed  which 
involves  the  son's  death : 

You  afe  such. 
So  merciUss  a  tyratU,  as  do  love 
To  feed  on  your  own  bowels, 

WaUenstein,  voL  ii,  p.  61. 
A  similar  figure  occurs  In  Chapman,  but  in  quite  difierent  phraseology  : 

Whai  is  a  father?    Turn  his  entrails  gi/^lfs 

To  swaUow  children  when  they  have  begot  them? 

The  Gentleman  Usher,  V,  iv,  54-5. 

IT,  if  845-7.    Another  dose  parallel  with  Glapthome.    Cf. 

With  what  impudence 
Canst  thou  behold  me.  and  a  shivering  cold. 
Strong  as  the  hand  of  winter  casts  on  broohs, 
Not  freeze  thy  spirits  up^  congeal  thy  blood. 

The  Hollander,  voL  i,  p.  Z03. 

There  Is  a  general  likeness  also  between  this  whole  speech  and  that  of 
WaUenstein  after  the  death  of  his  son,  WaUensteinj  vol.  ii,  p.  63. 

IT,  i*  868.  Weep  till  we  be  statues :  partly  an  aUusion  to  Niohe  turned 
into  stone  on  accoimt  of  her  mourning  for  her  children,  partly  referring 
to  the  ornamental  statues  of  fountains.   Webster,  Devil's  Law  Case,  I,  ii, 

^  says  oi  a  weeping  woman,  '  You  would  have  thought  she  had  turned 

■"'  fountain  *. 

nr«  ii,  16-19.  There  is  a  certain  similarity  between  this  passage  and  one  in 
Glapthome.    There  as  here  the  lines  are  addressed  to  a  weeping  lady  : 

So  violent  rain  weeps  o*er  the  purple  heads 
Of  smiling  violets,  till  its  brachish  drops 
Insinuate  among  the  tender  leaves. 
And  with  its  weight  oppress  them. 

The  Hollander,  voL  i,  p.  Z03.    . 

!▼•  ii«  84-6b  The  oomparison  of  death  to  a  welcome  rest  after  sickness  or 
watching  is  cofnmon  in  Glapthome.    Cf. 

/  shaU  go 
As  willingly  to  death  as  to  my  rest 
After  a  painful  ehUd-birth, 

The  Lady  Mother,  p.  19Z. 
In  Wallenstein  Isabella,  when  menaced  with  instant  death,  speaks  in  the 
same  vein  as  Caropia  does  here: 

Should  your  fury  riot  on  my  Hfe, 
'Tufould  not  affright  me,  I  should  meet  my  death 
As  willingly  as  1  should  do  my  rest 
After  a  tedtous  watching, 

Wallenstein,  voL  ii,  p.  60. 

Thomas  cites  further  a  passage  from  The  Ladies*  Privilege,  vol  ii,  p.  133, 
which  is  closely  parallel  to  the  last  quoted; 
IT,  Ii.  18i-7.    This  seems  a  reminiscence  or  the  welt-known  passage  in  Othello  : 

Like  the  base  Indian,  threw  a  pearl  away 
thicker  than  all  his  tribe, 

WheOo,  V,  ii.  34ML    ' 


726  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

V,  i^  99-1.  a.  Ill,  li,  48-9  above.  It  may  be  more  than  a  coijicidence 
that  Newman,  who  plays  in  WaHUnsUin  much  the  same  rdle  as  Sdinthiis 
in  this  drama,  that  of  the  *  honest  and  merry '  (i.e.  foul  mouthed)  lord, 
addresses  a  yomig  soldier  as  '  my  Myrmidon ',  WaUensteint  voL  ii,  p.  35. 

▼t  L  54-6.  '  Love,  thy  flames  burst  out  in  the  presence  of  the  beloved  one ; 
m  her  absence  they  exist  in  desire  for  her  . 

▼,  tt,  14-16.  Of  this  simile  Swinburne  says  (George  Ckafmum,  pp.  123—4)  : 
'  Only  in  one  image  can  I  find  anything  of  that  quaint  fondness  for  remote 
and  eccentric  illustration  in  which  the  verse  of  Chapman  resembles  the 
prose  of  Fuller.  .  .  .  Even  here  the  fall  of  the  verse  is  not  that  of  Chap- 
man '.  Aelian,  De  Nat.  4nimaL  IV,  31,  reports  that  the  elephant  wm 
not  drink  clear  water,  but  I  have  not  found  a  source  for  the  cause  assigned 
in  the  text. 

?•  ii,  86-7<    A  favourite  allusion  of  Glapthome's.    Cf. 

Happy  Arabianst  when  your  pjkcenix  dies 

In  a  swed  pile  of  fraffrant  spiceries, 

Out  of  the  ashes  of  the  myrrh-burn' d  mother. 

That  you  may  stiU  have  one,  springs  up  another, 

Argalus  and  Parthenia^  voL  U  p.  65. 

Cf.  also  The  Hollander,  vol  i,  p.  zoa,  and  Poems,  vol  ii,  pp.  179,  182, 185. 

▼•  ii,  MMO.  Intends  my  will.  I  believe  an  acceptable  meamng  may  be  given 
to  this  passage  if  we  take  intends  in  the  sense  of  'expands,'  '.dilates? ;  see 
New  English  Dictionary,  sub  Intend.  Abrahen  meanj»  that  his  passioa 
for  Caropia  has  passed  the  bounds  set  by  reason,  and  has  expanded  his 
will  into  an  unalterable  determination  to  possess  her. 

▼t  ii  li^^    Thomas  points  out  a  parallel  in  Glapthome : 

,^  And  let  their  words,  oaths,  tears,  vows,  pass 

"^  As  words  in  water  writ,  or  slippery  glass. 

Argalus  and  Parthenia,  voL  i,  p.  43. 

In  this  passage,^  however,  the  words  are  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  woman 
railing  at  the  inconstancy  of  men.  The  original  is  probably  the  well- 
known  passage  in  Catullus: 

MuUtr  eupido  quod  dieU  amanU, 
In  vento  et  rapida  scribere  oportet  aqua. 

Carmen  Isx, 

Y,  ilff  878.    After  inhaling  the  poison  of  the  handkerchief  Abrahen  expends 

I  his  last  breath  in  a  kiss,  raises  his  head  to  curse  his  brother,  and  dies. 
Y,  il*  890.    Caropia's  sudden  and  wholly  unexpected  murder  of  Abtlgualit 

is  patterned  after  Baccha's  murder  of  Leontes  in  Cupid^s  Reoenga,  V,  iiL 

Cf.  Introduction,  p.  716. 
▼•  ii,  991.    That  fata!  instrument :  the  poisoned  handkerchief. 
SpQogiM,  L  14.    Hang  up  the  poet:    Brereton  thinki  that  this  line  was 

spoken  by  the  actor  for  whose  gulling  the  whole  play  was  written,  and 

was  meant  to  make  him  still  more  ridiculous.    See  Introduction,  p.  790, «. 

TEXT  NOTES 

Reoenge  for  Honour  was  first  printed  in  1654.  Ttro  copies  of  this  edition 
are  found  in  the  British  Museum ;  one  of  them  (£.  231)  has  the  foUowing 
title-page :  Revenge  for  Honour,  A  Tragedie,  by  George  Chapman,  London, 
Printed  for  Richard  Marriot,  in  S.  Dunstan's  Churchyard,  Fleetstreet,  1654. 
The  other  (654.  d.  51)  has  a  slightly  different  title-page,  showing  after  the 
word  London  only  the  phrase.  Printed  in  the  year  1654.  A  second  editfoo, 
of  which  copies  exist  in  the  Museum  and  at  the  Bodleian,  appeared  in  1639^ 
published  by  Moselev.    It  was  not  reprinted  until  1873,  when  it  was  wifjmlwi 


emendatioQS|  some  of 
which  I  have  adopted.    I  refer  to  this  edition  as  $• 


NOTES 


727 


The  text  of  R§o0ng§  fof  Honour  presents  few  difficulties.  I  have  followed 
the  first  quarto,  comparing  it  in  doubtful  cases  with  Moseley's  edition,  Qi. 
As  I  have  not  noticed  any  differences  between  thisse  editions,  I  use  the  symbol 
Qq.  to  denote  an  agreement  of  the  first  and  second  quartos. 

The  metre  of  this  plav  is  loose  and  irregular,  and  the  fines  have  been  care- 
lessly arranged  by  the  old  printer.  I  have  tried  to  restore  the  proper  arrange- 
ment wherever  possible,  and  have  called  attention  to  such  changes  in  the 
notes. 


Irologiie.    1.  17.  Qq.  The;   P.  mis- 
prints Whs.    S.  corrects. 
1.  18.  Qq.    main;    P.     misprints 
mean.    S.  corrects. 
It  U  17.    Qq.    ancouge;     S.    'mong. 
49.  Qq.  close  the  line  with  Prince. 
Brereton  {Modern  Language  Re- 
viete,    Octobert    1907)    suggests 
[the']  Prince.    I  am  inclined  to 
bdieve  that  the  proper  name, 
AbilipuUit,  has  dropped  off  the 
end   of   the   line,    and   emend 
accordingly. 

OS.  Qq.  Court;  P.  misprints  Count. 

88-57  Qq.  print  as  five  lines, 
eadkig  nalure,  gofmenis.  Supper, 
thanks,  brother.  S.  prints  the 
n>eech  of  Sel.  as  prose,  and 
Brereton  roeaks  of  the  passage 
from  Well  then  to  brother  as 
bianh  prose.  But  it  is  easv  to 
arrange  it  as  verse,  and  I  have 
done  so  in  the  text. 

87«  Qq.  honors.  S.  reads  hours, 
but  this  is  unnecessary  for  the 
sense,  and  the  metre  of  the  play 
is  throughout  very  irregular. 

09.  Qq.  oppress  marts  soul;  Brer, 
suggests  [a]  man's  soul. 

108.  Qq.  to  any  of.  S.  inserts  one 
before  of.    I  prefer  man. 

117-19.  Qq.  print  as  four  lines, 
ending,  numaniiie,  read,  virtues 
and  then. 

184.  Qq.  Abenbucar,  AboflH.  I 
emend  Abenhuacatr,  Abolaffl, 
See  note,  p.  731. 

187*  Qq.  print  A  want  ot  as  the 
last  words  of  1.  126. 

188-6  Qq.  arranges  as  three  lines, 
ending  brief.  Use,  Physician. 

180.  Qq.  expaUat;  S.  emends 
expattaie. 

140.  Qq.  Catum;  S.  reads  coUum. 
1  prefer  coition, 

147.  I  insert  the  stafe  direction. 

174r0.  Qq.  print  Abu.'^s  speech  as 
two  Imes  of  prose. 

181-8.  Qq.  print  |/^  .  .  .  /  a^  one 
line. 

IM^-  Qq.  print  as  four  Unes, 
ending  trust,  oommand,  creature 
Lord* 


tM>  Qq.  said;   S.  emends  .5<ui. 

881-8.  The  text  is  somewhat  per- 
plexing. S.  suggests  the  reading 
Endeavour  if  it  be  good,  to  assist 

you, 
Or  to  reclaim,  if  HI,  from  your 

bad  purpose. 
I  prefer  to  keep  the  original 
oraer,  and  to  enclose  the  words 
or  to  good  in  parenthesis. 

868.  Qq.  sirUesse^  harmlesse;  S. 
reads  sin  less  harmless,  which 
seems  to  me  nonsense. 

877.  Qq.fa^d.  I  keep  the  original, 
but  would  suggest  found  as  a 
possible  reading. 

880.  Qq.  ye;  S.  emends  he,  Per- 
haps we  should  read  /. 

880.  Qq.  what;  S.  reads  That, 
but  this  is  unnecessary. 

800.  Qq.  Uad;  P.  mi^rints  iead, 

404.  Brereton  suggests  dropping 
You,  This  womd  give  a  plainer 
sense,  but  see  note,  p.  733. 

400.  Qq.  deceive.  Deighton  {Old 
Dramatists,'p.  144)  su([gests  read- 
ing deserve,  but  this  is  unneces- 
sary. 

460.  Qq.  with  people.    S.  inserts 
the  before  people, 
ll,i,17.  Brereton  thinks  'probably, 
but  by  no  means  certainly,  we 
should  omit  them.* 

48.  Brereton  would  read  cause*, 
a  possessive  case  like  people  in 
1.  15a  below.  I  prefer  to  take 
it  as  an  objective  in  apposition 
with  danger, 

68-0.  Qq.  print  as  five  lines,  ending 
religious,  thanks,  AbHfualit,  say, 
creature. 

74  ^hforious ;  &  emends  ivories, 

106-0.  Qq.  print  as  three  lines, 
ending  once,  truth,  applauses. 

100.  Qq.  a;  S.  alters  to  as.  But, 
as  Brereton  says,  this  ■■  '  this 
is*. 

168.  Qq.  PeopU;  S.  peoples,  an 
unnecessary  cdiange  which  has 
crept  into  the  present  taxt. 

170-1.  Qq.  print  as  three  lines, 
ending  expedition,  us.  Lord. 

188.  Qq.  cast;   I  emend  casts. 


728 


REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 


I  insert  [«ni#].  Brareton 
pfopoees  to  vead  Akmtt  Tks 
smgmt;  but  I  think  we  may 
retain  the  original,  and  interpret 
*  The  engine  (te.  hie  de^^) 
works  by  itself  *. 

tMk  8.  reads  Forc€  you  maimt; 
but  this  violent  alteration  of  the 
text  is  quite  uncalled  for. 

80ii.  Qq.  have  ytm  as  the  last 
word  of  this  Une. 

tU«  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction  after  this  line. 

88S.  Qq.  wiXh;  P.  mispiints  wUh, 


whether;     S.     emends 
whiiher, 

88S.  Qq.  has;  S.  He  has,  which 
is  unnecessary,  as  an  easily  under- 
stood subject  is  often  not  ex- 
pressed.   Cf.  I,  i,  169. 

tlo.  Qq.  he  takes;  S.  he  may  take. 
I  do  not  think  such  regularizing 
of  the  characteristically  loose 
old  construction  is  permissible 
to  an  editor. 

8t7-&  Abrahen's  speech  is  printed 
as  one  line  in  Qq. 

171-0,  Osman's  q^mh  is  printed 
as  one  line  in  Qq. 

88S.  Qq.  march;  P.  misprints  maireh, 
O^  iif  84.  Brereton  would  put  a 
comma  after  to  boast,  thus  mak- 
ing the  infinitive  depend  upon 
woo'd,  1.  33  ;  but  it  seems  sm« 
pier  and  more  in  accordance 
with  the  context  to  take  to 
boast  as  depending  upon  desif*d 
In  1.  2a. 

45-7.  Qq.  print  as  three  lines, 
ending  made  it,  from  the,  dream, 

1SL  Qq.  end  this  hue  with  mis- 
fortune, printing  we  as  the  first 
word  of  1.  5«. 

6S-0O.  Qq.    print     as    six  lines, 
ending   together,   but,   approach, 
happinesse,  forces,  iitUmations, 
TO,  1,  L    I  have  inserted  the  dicec^ 
tion  [wUhout]. 

9.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction. 

S4.  Q.  count;  S.  emends  commit. 

108.  Qq.  print  That  as  the  first 
word  in  1. 103. 

188.  Qq.  print  And  ^  aA  the  first 
words  «fl.  Z291 

184.  I  have  inserted  [siside], 

188.  The  stage  dhrecticm  Enter 
Mufa  ooctts  4n  1.  tS5  iu  Qq.  and 
shtffM  be  printed  here  in 
parenthesis,  not  in  braokets. 
Cf.  p.  146,  U.  87,  90. 


184.  Qq.  print  tin  words  whad . . . 

violate  m  paraitheais. 
888.  Perhaps  him  has  droptied  ofi 

the  end  of  this  line. 
811.  Qq.  print  This  miiebussa  as 

the  fiurst  words  of  1.  azs. 
818.  Qq.  befit;  S.  befits. 
UL  iif  1*    Qq>  ^<>  which  S.  retains. 

Brereton  emends  less. 
48.  Qq.  who  gathered;    S.  instcts 

have  after  vAo. 
88.  Qq,  became;  S.— fiends  Becoau. 
88.  Qq.  print  hse  as  the  first  word 

of  1.  63. 
78.  Qq.  less;  S.  wzx>ngly  alters  to 

Lest. 
81.  Qq.  print  oh  him  as  the  first 

worn  of  1.  93. 
87.  I    have    supplied    the    stage 

direction  after  this  line. 
188.  Qq.  print  so  pray  as  the  first 

words  of  1.  131. 
188.  Qq.  asit  got.    S.  inaerts  had 

after  it. 
188-8.  Qq.  print  Abil.'8  speech  as 

one  line. 
188.  Qq.   print    This  waermU  as 

the  first  words  of  1.  r4o. 
141.  I  have  inserted  laside[. 
148.  Qq.   accustom*d.    S.    emends 

unacciustom*d.      The       context 

shows  this  to  be  necessary. 
141-8.  Qq<    print    as    six    Unes, 

ending  of  it,   they,   accustomed, 

neere,  resoltfd,  defend. 
147.  Qq.      Carpoia%    width     P. 

silently  corrects. 
IT,  i.  44-8.  In  Qq.  only  the  words 

from  thou'rt  to  Empire  are  in- 
cluded in  the  parenthesis. 
84.  Qq.    exemplar;  S.   exempimry. 

The  change  is  unnecessary.     In 

Shirley's   Cardinal,    III,   li,    we 

find  a  parallel,  exemplar  justice. 
84.  Qq.    according;    P.    misprints 

accordii^, 
110.  Qq.  the;   S.  emends  thy.    I 

have  accepted  this,  although  it  is 

possible  that  the  artlde  is)  used 
tor  the  possessive  pronoun.     ^ 
118.  Qq.  too;   I  emend  *Twere. 
188.  I  have  inserted  the  aside  in 

this  line  as  in  11. 171,  178  below. 
188-8.  Qq.  print  these  two  lines 

as  one,  and  read  fures,  wliieh 
S.  emends  furies. 
188.  I    have   inserted    the    stage 

direction  in  this  line. 
180.  Qq.  is;  P  misprints  his. 
188-8.  Qq.  prints  as  three  Bnes, 
ending  bhmtiess,  troitbted^  frentie.